The Steel Dutchman

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXVI, Issue 20364, 23 July 1934, Page 14

The Steel Dutchman

A GREAT STORY OF ADVENTURE ON LAND AND SEA

(Author of “Paradise Orchid,” “The Green Hat,” etcA

By

Vincent Cornier

CHAPTER XXVI. Another Victory. When Hardisty announced to the Sloughstowe men that Cleone had escaped, he had taken good care that .she had plenty of time to make the first part of her flight into a substantial lead. For a man of such limited mind, ’Arry had quite a fair sense of strategy and also some considerable idea of the way in which to play an actor’s role. Dick Haggerston, his face distorted by rage, turned on Hardisty like someone demented. It \Vas clear to be seen that his suspicions had been aroused. As Merlincote suspected, Hardisty’s last effort at dissembling had not been altogether a success; it had been overdone. Now Haggerston roared out his certainty of that. “Y’ dirty underhand rat, ’Ardisty! Y’ let her go . . . y’ let her go, I say! I’ve had .me ’spicions on ye fer a while now, an’ I warns y’ there’s balm t’ be a hell of a mucky reckonin’ fer y’, when \an Klaus gets hissen back! If lie cuts v’ damned throat it'll nobbut sarve ye right!”

let her go?” ’Arry ’Ardisty put i*i» a. convincing show of indignation. “What for should I liev owt t 5 do wi’ her ganging her ways? Why, v’ soapy heeded blurry fule y’—if 'it hadn’t bin that ye were so ta'cn up wi’ y* mouthin’ an’ scrappin’, she’d niver liev had a dog’s chance o’ leavin’ t’ place!’ ? He simulated a rage that was more convincing than his indignation. Suddenly he slashed his doubled fist across Haggerston’s already battered cheeks. “Big as ye are—y’ll noan git away wi’ that, Dick ’Aggerston! I’ll nawp thee fust—” The others pushed their ways between Haggerston and Hardisty. Even while the giant was rocking * with the unexpected blow, they bumbled him to one side and yelled out instructions to keep himself in check. Hardisty was grasped and flung aside like a sack. There was no time for further squabbling; damage enough had been done. Merlincote saw no reason why he should not take advantage of the* confusion. As yet Haggerston’s orders to “rope him” had not been complied with —still he had those terrible fists of his to make for ugly trouble. He suddenly jumped among the moiling and indecisive fellows and hammered away to his heart’s content. Not only had he the advantage of surprise, but there had grown in the Slo’stoweians an almost terrifying respect for those heavy mitts. Again their cross-breeding let them down . . . that remote Spanish strain was not one that could stand to rights before the handfigliter A knife, a cudgel in the dark, a sandbag-and-bludgeon affray—yes, in such circumstances the men of secret Sloughstowe were valiants beyond all mention. But set in front of six feet two inches of fourteen stone manhood, revengeful, maddened and almost blood-lusting in the intensity of his anxiety for his woman’s safety —they merely wilted.

What Van Klaus and the. skinny American Joe had suffered; what Haggerston had recently had to endure, was all as nothing to this pummelling rain that deluged the gang. They scattered! 1 and held their ears and crouched and

And, although he had not been touched, the egregious ’Arry ’Ardisty also rolled over on the rocky earth and yowled like a tormented eat, exhorting Merlincote by all the gods, to leave him alone. The phenomenon of this gave Merlincote to pause. It was so utterly ridiculous, so futile, so —then he saw: the grovelling ’Arrv was proving a master in the arts of duplicity. Down there on the ground he was wildly stubbing a thumb backwards over his snoukier —pointing to a tall and. cofunlike passage which Merlincote could just discern as opening into the living wall of the gallery leading to the-cavern. He growled out something about “making an example of you, m’lad,” and grabbed down as though to clutch the squealing ’Arry by the scruff of his neck. As his hand caught the muffler Hardisty wore, Merlincote hissed out: “Now then—did she go down there ?” “\ r is,” came the swift reply. “After ’er; an’ keep alius t’ tli’ left —t’ th’ left. ...” The Sloughstowe men were massing for a concerted rush when Merlincote apparently took a vicious kick at the seat of the unfortunate ’Arry’s pants, then jumped over liis scuttling figure and dived into that passage. “After ’im after *im lads,” roared the redoubtable ’Arry, “the swine’s gotten dahn tlieer —” And to prove this whole-hearted fervour in the chase, ’Arrv scrambled to his feet and dashed straight down the gallery after Merlincote. Ilad they seen what he did before they gained on him, the gangsters would have settled ’Arry there and then . . . for he got to Merlincote, and, as the barrister reached that secondary opening which Cleone had so painfully retraced her steps to find, he pushed him bodily into it . . . and ran on down the slope yelling, “Theer he gangs—oway lads, step it oot; collar him!”

Dike a fragment of an infantry charge, the Sloughstoweians rushed past the second aperture, following the viewhalloo of the false-hearted 'Arry. Merlincote permitted himself the luxury of a grin. Hardisty was a man of decidedly steadfast purpose. Behind all this mummery of voice and action was a very real danger lo himself. Bur for all that, he had done and dared it —simply to cry “quits” for that chance of freedom that had been given him on the night of Van Klaus’ attack on the Bainbridge encampment. But hero tlie debt was paid. Aye, paid in tenfold fashion. Merlincote coni 1 not hope for any more aid from Hardisty; the queer fellow had done ail that would ever be possible to him. . . And. somewhere at the back of Merlincote’s rioting brain, a kind of prayer went fleeting, that the ugly little beggar might not come to harm from his companions. As Cleone had done, so Merlincote did. Telling hmself in a monotone—“left—to the left—left”—at first he groped and then he speeded along, Tinder the growing green glow that lie was to prove, again as Cleone had proved, came from the gigantic cavern where the wind was ravening and where the dark and horrific underground lake lapped at the pebbled shore of agates and of*.onyx and black nodules of hard jet.

CHAPTER XXVII. To Freedom Again. His’arrival in that vast rock temple, that was a hollow gutting of the cliffs, was opportune beyond all mention. He stepped on to that narrow and curving beach only to find himself five yards behind men in greasy dungarees who trailed after Cleone. He looked at them and grinned bitterly. After what he had gone through in the other cave he was in fullest feather for the encounter that promised here. For one thing, his relief at seeing Cleone was like an access of powerful wine to his blood; for another, he had the mounting scores of the day still to be paid. So. as the men began to make a silent onrush, he snarled and fell among them like a wolf leaping down into a sheepfold. There was hardly any more to do . . . The shock of this sudden apparition and the weight of it, absolutely confounded the trackers. One dropped his spanner—Merlincote dived arid grasped it and Struck with it all in one movement. The fellow groaned and slumped to the ground. The others lied. Merlincote panted and gained Cleone’s side. “Thank God,” he gasped. “You’re all right, aren’t you?” “Except for a few bruises,” sbe laughed. “And you?” “Never felt in better fettle since the rear dot!” With all a strong man’s exultation in the supremacy of his bodypower, Merlincote suddenly stretched up his arms and threw back his head and laughed in purest joy and victory. “I’ve had enough scrapping to last me through all the hoary age I shall have to spend sitting like a mummy on that judge’s chair I’m often telling you I shall attain, some day!” “Oh, you precious idiot!” Cleone snuggled close to him and lifted her lips.

Already they could see, through a cleft in the face of the cavern wall, a faraway picture of green-gray waters and long and sagey reed-beds —Hartncss Slems. And in a matter of four minutes more they were standing together on the top of the knoll which was called Hunter-End, signalling to the police who manned the piratical nest of Sloughstowe.

As Cleone’s common sense had informed her, a reply was almost instant. With startling suddenness a light streaked up into the bright morning air and fell in a fierce plume of violet fire—a day-shown rocket, meaning, “Signal understood, coming to your assistance” . . .

Guy Merlincote looked back once as they descended the dangerous slope of Hunter-End. Xo face had appeared as yet in the cleft through which they had escaped. It seemed that pursuit had been given up. Merlincote very soberly told himself that would be a necessary step for the baffled Slow’stoweiqns to take . . . All their remaining energies would need be concentrated on making good their own escape—from the horde of police who would be surely on the scene within an hour or so. r l*he secret of the hollow cliff was in the hands of the enemy. One more of Van Klaus’ plans had gone agley.

One more . . . but only one . . . For, even as Cleone Bainbridge and Guv Mcrlincote stepped down to the beach and were surrounded by the police—a strange and ugly looking vessel went creeping along its. sea path, some two miles out from the dangerous shore, looking for all the world as though she were about to run her snout on to the hidden reefs of the Loden Scar, a patch of rocks straight off from the cliffs.

Only one plan . . . Here, approaching, was the dreadful consummation of another. For the shabby looking drifter with the limping gait was quite unrecognisable as a piratical yaclit called the Fliegende Sehaum; a vessel of incredible speed, manned by a crew of eighty souls and skippered by Mynheer Ryjer van Klaus, called by sailors over half the world—tlie Steel Dutchman. (To be continued daily.)