“HE WHO FIGHTS”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 74, Issue 112, 14 May 1931, Page 10

“HE WHO FIGHTS”

SERIAL STQRA'

(BY

LORD GORELL)

CHAPTER XXVII. (continued). “ Bah.” responded Guitard cheerfully, “you tell me I do not like work, you see. It is necessary that I show you the contrary.” “ How. work? But you say you continued our little holiday?” “I say so, yes: I make work my little holiday; it is my habit. Besides, I have the curiosity." “I have the Indigestion,” remarked Ramonet with thoughtful regret. As soon as they reached Paddington. Guitard hurried his not unwilling friend to Soho where at a French restaurant they made a vrey hearty meal. During this Guitard expanded and Ramonet became docile. They emerged in high humour and great friendliness a little before 9 o’clock and made their way round the corner to the little street in which stood the restaurant described by Madame Anatole. . Having received his instructions, Ramonet in his very Imperfect English approached the commissionaire and inquired if by chance he had noticed a tall, angular, elderly Frenchwoman gazing in at the window on the previous evening. The commissionaire looked at his questioner doubtfully until Ramonet, taking Guitard’s card of authority and identity, explained what an important personage his friend was. The commissionaire became human instantly. I thought there was something queer about it," he said, “ From Paris, are you? French detectives, eh? We’ve had our police here asking about a blooming foreigner with moustaches, and now you’re after the old woman. Yes, I’ll tell you what I saw; but It isn’t much. Just here she stood; seemed as if she thought of dining and then didn’t like it. All of a sudden she gave a start and said something to herself, flerce-llke, under her breath. I couldn’t catch it; but I had a look at her, and I thought she was going to tumble down in a fit. So I came up to her and asked her in a friendly way if she was ill; and, my word, she gave me such a look as if I’d been insulting her and makes off like as if she’d got ’em again. Not all there she was, if you understand what I mean.”

Ramonet did not understand, at least not at all clearly, but he grasped enough to translate ana in consequence to be kept at it energetically by Guitard. In the course of several more ’ questions sufficient was elucidated to | place Guitard in possession of all the essential facts, especially Madame Anatole’s exact position. Of the foreigner with moustaches the commissionaire had seen nothing; he had not come in by ihe door just a little ahead of the woman or indeed at all. Nodding, well satisfied, Guitard pushed open the door and entered the restaurant. As he had calculated, the hour was propitious; the flow of diners had almost ceased, though the waiters were still about their (business—to his joy he found them French. Ramonet’s linguistic contortions were now superfluous; in a moment Guitard had turned the tap of a waiter’s spluttering torrent of language. Yes, he had seen the compatriot last night, very fine moustaches; he had admired them as he served him. The. compatriot had not come back again; the management were to mrorm the police at once if he did, and a police constable was on duty for that purpose. The compatriot had sat there, at the table "Aha,” murmured Guitard gently—-it was at one of those that obliquely and not indirectly faced the window from which Madame Anatole bad gazed. “And his hat?" Guitard queried innocently, looking round for a peg. “But he had no hat, -m’sieur. He rest in the hotel and come in through that door yonder when he has the hunger.” “Aha,” again murmured Guitard. “You are sure?” “Quite sure, m’sieur; it is my business.” “You have the intelligence,” an- ! swered Guitard, much pleased. “It will [ be necessary now’ for me to see the ' management." I The management was a keen-eyed, buxom daughter of France. It did not take Guitard many moments to get on terms of cordiality with her. She was charmed at his appearance, all the afternoon she had been discomposed by unvocal, stolid, English police, she averred. They bad asked after a certain mad fellow who had dined in the restaurant on the previous evening. 'He rest here, J think?" suggested Guitard. "Ab, mon dieu. yes!” exclaimed the management. "He take a room and he dine, snd then go off in a rage late at night.” “Aha," a third lime murmured Guitard Would it be presuming on MaI dame's graciousness 10 tell him why? I "I will show you," she said. They passed from the restaurant through the. door that led to the hotel and up the sleep little staircase; Guitard noted the respective positions of the restaurant door, the door to the slreet, and the stairs with animation, but made no remark. ' Voile.” said the management, wg open the door of the room G: '” <■ had briefly occupied. "He was mad. my countryman. He ring bis bell In a rage last night and told I ’Toiuetle in a voice of thunder that i siie was a thief. The poor gSU she | scream and be apologise; but he oonj tinue to say some one enter his room. | i come and lam very angry also. Re- | gardez.” I With Ihs supreme gesture of an i outraged housewife she exhibited the | mattress of the bed. It was slit in every direction. i.iiitard gave it one glance, a casual, ; almost indifferent glance it seemed, and | then said placidly, "You have right, Madame. A mad fellow. | "Ah, It was terrible! He roar, and I | tell him he is a very wicked rascal, and I Toinette weep. . >n Dieu. but we I made strange music together! Then I lie cry out. that be go at once, he will i not stay to be robbed and insulted. 1 I tell him 1 will >ot keep him, no, not I if ho beg to remain, tout 1 demand ; payment for his foolishness. And then be make the great swear and say j he have no money, and he give me a push and 1 tumble down, and he run I out quickly and 1 do not see him again. Ah, m’sieur, 1 weep with rage; I and ’Toinette, she weep too. And this | afternoon the police come and they

ask inc about him. But I tell then: nothing. I say he is gune and I de not know anything more. 1 do noi say that he accuse my hotel like that no. What is the use.? They are verj stupid, these English, and It is nol good for me that they hear those things.”

“You have right. Madame.” repeated Guitard. “But do not discompose yourself; our compatriot will not return. lie is restless, by mv faith 1” ■ He made the management his best bow and. taking Ramonet who was growing bored, passed out into the street. “I go to !bed,” announced Ramonet. “In a minute, my friend,” answered Guitard. He led the way across the little street, surveyed the hotel and restaurant, and then looked around him generally with an air of great satisfaction. “Tiens,” he said to himself rather than to Ramonet; “It has the simplicity, my little idea. Let us reflect. I am walking along, I am thinking of my big, foolish Pierre, I am wondering when he will return to me and what he will bring. Hold, I see him? He is hurrying, is he not? Ah, he has the little appointment without me, perhaps. I follow, then. He goes in there.” Guitard waived his hand to the hotel door. “Aha, that is well. I hide myself. Where do I hide?" Guitard took two steps and flattened his podgy, little figure as best he could into the niche in the wall Immediately opposite the hotel door. “I am thin and tall, you understand,” he went on, grinning. “I watch; I see everything. My big, foolish Pierre has the ■ hunger; he descends to cat. He has laid aside his hat, is it not so? But I cannot see him very well. What is it I shall do?” “I do not know,” interjected Ramonet with decision, “but 1 am going to bed. lam fatigued. I do not like standing in this ugly little street.” “It is very interesting, nevertheless,” rejoined Guitard. “But you have not the temperament, my friend. Eh bien, it is enough; it has the simplicity.! Shall we, then, go to bed as you so wish?” CHAPTER XXVIII. Rehabilitation. Madame Anatole returned to London, after she had finished giving her evidence to Col. Morpeson, in almost as high a state of ill-humour as on her first journey back from Devon, and she proceeded with the utmost despatch to shake off the dust of this horrible England from her feet and regain her beloved Paris. She was oppressed with a most irritating consciousness that «he had made a very poor appearance before the chief constable. She had not created the impression she had intended; she had most annoyingly been thwarted in her movement towards the centre of the stage. That was in part the fault of Guitard; but, inconsistently enough, Madame Anatole felt no special resentment against Guitard. He was her compatriot, he was the old, well-known, and declared enemy; his position was normal, his intervention professional. Madame Anatole’s feeling for him was that of clear, reasoned animosity, tinged with admiration. She woudl have preferred him as an ally; as a foe he was to be respected. And it had only been his fault in part; the major portion of the blame she laid at the door of that blond, slender Englishman, Christopher Frayne. Madame Anatole had been filled with irritational antipathy towards Frayne from the moment she first set eyes on him; he represented everything that she most detested. He was typically English, for one thing; he was wellbred, for another; he was young, for a third; above all, he was loved and in love—he was odious. She had not al first fully comprehended what he had to do with the affair, but she had watched his grasp of the wildly happy Barbara with the deep aversion to romance of the spiritual pauper; unconsciously she was pierced with envy—they had a heaven from which she was for ever barred. Later, as the whole case was revealed to her, she supported her antipathy by reasoning to herself tliat in reality Frayne had been responsible for her husband’s failure; his coming had aroused Gregoire's ferocity, even If it had not actually awakened his vigilance. Frayne, then, was the cause both of the evil that had befallen the hitherto invincible Pierre and of her own inability to arrest atteuton. It was a comforting thought; It went a long way towards rehabilitating her to herself as regards Pierre’s misadventure and absolving her from an error in judgement in returning to Devon. She could not have known of all these complications. Not many days after her return sli received the unsolicited distinction of a visit from Lucien Guitard. The little man called in on her saying casually that he was passing that way on important business; he mentioned that he had been right as usual. “They go to find Gregoire that evening,” he said. “They telegraph to London, vous voyez. But it was as I said. Gregoire was restless; he does not wait for Englishmen, no. by my faith! Here in Paris it is different, eh?” “It has the difference indescribable,” agreed Madame Anatole succinctly. “That is true. 1 enjoy my little holiday, but I am glad I am returned. You have heard no more of Gregoire, Madame?” The question was dropped out casually and answered as anticipated. "No,” she replied, and added nothing more, closing her lips tightly. "Eh bien, he loses himself. It is no matter; he will discover himself again—not to the English, but to us, rest assured.” With a bow he parsed on his way, well -satisfied; he placed more reli- j ance on his intuition than on proof, and he murmured !o himself, as he went along, that his intuition had not been deceiving him; Madame Anatole had something to conceal. (To Le continued.}.