THE SECRET AGENT

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXVI, Issue 20648, 24 June 1935, Page 14

THE SECRET AGENT

(Author of “ Solution or a Mystery,” “Murder at AVritles & Park,” “ Who Killed Alfred Snowc?” etc.)

■r

J. S. FLETCHER,

CHAPTER XI. The Typist. I don’t know if the Princess believed that *he had been successful in her attempt to head me oil the line of pursuit of . Mademoiselle Lantier, but, as a matter of fact, I had so little satisfied with her story that I had made up my mind as to my future—and immediate—course before ever I left the flat. And &o, anxious to lose no time, I went straight from the Princess* presence to the presbytery attached to the church, and, sending in my card, requested an interview with one of the priests. Within a few minutes I found myself closeted with an astute-looking ecclesiastic, whose eyes, as he inspected first my professional card and then its presenter, showed a good deal of interested curiosity. % Knowing that I could speak with absolute confidence, I told him what I was after and detailed my interview with' the Princess Sarentzoff. He nodded, at the mention of her mmc; evidently he recognised it. And he nodded again when I spoke of Mademoiselle Lantier. “You wish to speak to Mademoiselle Lantier?'* lie asked. “To see her personally ?’* “It is absolutely necessary,” I said. “I must know if she mentioned anything that she knew of this Sarentzoff - Esmore transaction to any other person. It is. of the highest importance.’* “Well, Mr. Camberwell,” he said, “I can help you. The fact is, I had a letter from Mademoiselle Lantier this morning. And this letter—it is merely to say that she left London very hurriedly a day or two ago, and makes apology for not calling to hid us good-bye. That is all —except,” lie added, with a significant smile, “that the letter is headed by mademoiselle’s present address.” “That is exactly what I want,” I exclaimed. “If your reverence feels justified in giving it to me —” “After what you have just told me 1 think I am,” he answered. “Fully justified. Mademoiselle Lantier is such a good, honest little soul that 6lie must not lie under any suspicion. I will write down the address.” He turned to a writing desk in the corner of the ropm, and picked up a blank card. But as he put pen to paper he turned to me. “Mademoiselle Lantier is a very shy, retiring being,” he said. “I think it might he as well if I gave you a note of introduction to her?” “If your reverence will l»c so good,” I responded. “I shall be infinitely obliged. And I don’t want to alarm Mademoiselle Lantier.” He wrote down the address, handed the card to me, and proceeded to write a letter which he presehtlv gave me in an unsealed envelope. “That will open mademoiselle’s lips,” he remarked, smiling. We shook hands and parted. I looked at my watch as soon as I got outside the presbytery; it was just three o’clock, and I had therefore a whole hour in which to make my small preparations before catching the four o’clock train from Victoria to Paris, •'by Dover and Calais. A hurried dash to our office, a brief explanation to Chaney, and I snatched up the suitcase, which ahvaj’s lay ready for a sudden need of its contents, thrust my passport into a pocket, and set off. And soon after eleven o’clock that night I was driving through the Paris streets to a favourite hotel, and by midnight was in bed there. I drank my coffee I took the priest’s letter of introduction and the card ou which he had written Mademoiselle Lantier’s address from my pocket hook and read them both. The letter informed mademoiselle that I was a person of reputation to whom one might speak with full confidence; the card told me (hat Mademoiselle Lantier resided at .337, Rue Verriere, Neuilly. And to NeuiJJy about nine o’clock I took my way, and, being arrived at the house I wanted, sent in my card—this time my private card—and the priest’s letter of introduction. A few minutes later I found mvsclf with a little, plain-fea-tured, bespectacled woman, of probably thirty-five or forty years of age, who let me see plainly, in spite of the letter of introduction, that she was infinitely surprised at my presence. “I must apologise, mademoiselle, for calling upon you at a time like this,” I began. “I trust that your mother’s illness' is not so serious ” But I paused there, seeing the look of blank astonishment which came over her very serious face. “My mother, monsieur!” she exclaimed. “My mother has been dead many years! Are you not making some mistake, monsieur? Still, this, letter—” “I was informed by the Princess Sarentzoff that you had left London very hurriedly in conseqjencc of the sudden illness of your mother, mademoiselle,” I replied. '‘That you had been obliged to make a quite sudden departure—” She checked me by a look and pointed me to a chair. Quite composedly she took another, facing me, and gave me a very keen inspection. “So. monsieur, the Princess told you that, did she?” she said quietly. “Very well—that, of course, was not true. But why do you £vish to see me, monsieur? This letter, ,f> she went on, “tells me I may speak to you in absolute eonfi. dence. I will —where it is nccessarv. But, again, what is it you want?” I had taken the precaution to bring with me my cuttings from the London papers, and I now selected and handed to her that contaiiWig a very full account of the inquest at Middlesmoor. She gave me another look, took the newspaper cuttings, and quietly and steadily read through the account of the inquest. She made no sign, spoke no word, until she had finished. Then she laid the cuttings on a table between us. “Monsieur,” she said, “I know nothing whatever of the transaction between Princess Sarentzoff and this Mr. Esmore. Beyond this, at any rate—once, some, little time ago, the Princess did tell me that she possessed some valuable jewellery and that it was in the care of Mr. Esmore. I remember his name now it is recalled to me by what 1 have just read. But beyond that no — I know nothing!” “You never knew what the Princess suggests, in her evidence, that you did know ?” I asked. “I? Never, monsieur!” “Did you cvpr—have you ever mentioned to any third person that she had some jewellery in Mr. Esmore’s keeping?” 1 inquired.

“No, indeed, monsieur! Why should I? It was no affair of mine!” she answered. “As regards all this —monsieur, it is untrue!” There was a spot of colour on her check as she said this —Mademoiselle Lantier was becoming indignant. So I 'pressed for information. “Do you mind telling me how it was you left the Princess a day or two ago?” T asked. “I gather that you did leave in rather a hurry!” “It was a very hurried departure, monsieur,” she rejfiied. “The Princess —what is it they say in England?— packed me off! She came home —I suppose from this place in the North, where this inquiry was held —told me she was leaving for America, for New York, she said, there and then, and that I should just be able to catch the night train for Paris. She paid me the salary clue, helped me to pack my trunk, and saw me off at the station —Victoria. That was the night before last—l only arrived in Paris at half-past five yesterday morning. Thene were peoplefriends —I should have liked to say goodbye to in London, but I had no opportunity. However, on the way between London and Xewhaven I did write a very hurried note to the priest whose letter you have just brought me—otherwise you would not, I understand, have been able to get my address.” “How long is it since the Princess engaged you?” I inquired. “About a year ago, monsieur. That was here in Paris, where she then lived. I was with her some time ih Paris. Then we went over to London where site took the fiat at which von no doubt saw her. You would observe, monsieur, if you went there, that she was not known as the Princess Sarentzoff ! ” A sudden recollection of the board at the foot of those interminable stairs flashed across me, but I tried to show nothing. “Oh ?” I said. “How was she known, then ?” “As Mrs. Sorrenson. She did not wish to be known as the Princess Sarentzoff. Did you not see the name Mrsl Sorrenson on the board in the hall, monsieur?” “Oh, well, I may have done!” I answered, “but I didn’t pay attention to it. You see, the Princess had given her address at those flats —number twelve, so I went straight up. Mrs. Sorrenson, eh? An assumed name.” “It was the name she went by at those flats, monsieur,” replied JMademoiselle Lantier, “but few people knew her in London, even by that.” I was silent for a minute or two —• thinking. What was it that goodlooking parson had ,said when lie came down the stairs and saw me puzzling over the address board. “The Princess took over that suite from a previous occupant, and the name has not been changed.” Well, he knew the Princess, anyway! I began to wonder about a good many things. “Few people knew her in London, you say, mademoiselle?” I said, resuming my question. “Did no one call on her?” “Not many people, monsieur—very few indeed. They were not encouraged —she wanted to get on with her memoirs.” “You saw the people who did call, I suppose ?” “Sometimes, monsieur. It is a very small flat.” “Did you ever see a clergyman there • —a good-looking man?” “Never, monsieur. A clergyman? You mean, I suppose, what you thcra call an Anglican? No —the Princess is of the Russian Church. I never saw any of her clergy there, either.” “Did you ever see Mr. Esmore there?” “I saw Mr. Esmore just once. 1 remember him —a little, elderly man. And there was a lawyer—Mr. Palethorpc—he came there once or twice. He too was elderly.” “One more question, mademoiselle, and I will then, make my adieu, with my profound gratitude for the help you have given me. It is this. From your knowledge of her, would you consider the Princess Sarentzoff to be a very rich woman ?” Mademoiselle shook her head—with decision. “Indeed no, monsieur!” she replied. “I should not! Neither in London nor "hen I was with her here in Paris did the Princess show any signs of wealth. Her menage, such ns it was, ran on very economic lines, monsieur.” I said farewell on that, and hastened back to Paris. The morning was still little advanced, and 1 had lio difficulty in catching the noon train at the fiare du Nord. Bv soon after seven o’clock that evening 1 was back in London. (To be continued daily.)