“Held in Ransom,”

Wairarapa Daily Times, 30 November 1926, Page 7

“Held in Ransom,”

—BY—GERALD CUMBERLAND. Author of 11 The Cypress Chest,” - f ‘Set Down in Malice,” > '-■ “The Prisoner,” etc., etc.

(COPYRIGHT.)

Cl 1 APTEIi V—Contimio(l. ' “Please hand me over all your cart ridges. 'How many rounds have you?’ He tore from his pocket all the am munition lie carried and gave it to her “This completes my humiliation,” h said. “I don’t wish t* humiliate yous»M Mi-ehelle. “But. you •force me to di so. The light between us is not : battle of our wills or of our intellect; It is purely physical. And pliysica contests are always degrading and hu initiating. But, as I was saying, tin hour of your payment of the £IO,OOI depends upon yourself. I hope, fo: your own sake and more particularly for the sake of Hiss Stunsnjorc tlia you Ayill prove reasonable.” • He made a gesture of angry repudia tion. “You dare not touch Miss Stans more,” lie said. “ Dare? That is a word unknown t( me and to those for whom I work. Wt ‘dare’ do anything. But we like, at far as possible, to be —shall 1 say hu manitarian? For myself, I detest vio lence. Particularly should I dislikt having to order my servants to be vio lent towards one whom, like yourself I respect.” “Your threats leave me absolutely unimpressed, .'Princess. What is -wrong •with you is that you fail to idealise how extremely foolish your behaviour is. Wc are not living in the days of Ivanhoe, Your dark threats mean nothing.” She rose to her feet and walked slowly towards him. When she had reached his chair, she stopped before him; her arms were dropped in front of her, and her hands gripped each other so tightly that the bones of her lingers seemed on £he point; of bursting through the skin. She was strangely agitated. Her breath came in thick, short gusts. “Oh, but Mr Mi-chelle, Mr Mi-chelle, I assure you most solemnly that what I say- is true. Terrible Hangs will be done to you—and to her —if you arc not obedient. Terrible- things have been done before and in this room. Things I dare not tell you. I hate it all!—I hate ‘it!—l shrink from it! And yet—and yet I must go through it. I must —I must. I cannot tell you—no —it is impossible. 1 run a great risk even by' talking to yon like this. So I beg you, I .pray', to consent, to this payment.” ■She stopped speaking and, as sinstopped, began to tremble. Then, with it quick movement, she turned away from him, covering her face \yith her hands. He sighed uneasily. “You seem to have some sympathy for me, Princess,” he said; “but tinworst of it is, I cannot, believe a word you say. You ought to be on tli.e stage, for you are a. consummate actress. You have deceived me once, and J. never allow myself to be deceived twice by the same woman. And, in any; case what is your sympathy * worth, admitting that it; is genuine ? It is worth nothing. You declare in the same.breath tliat you hate putting your threats into practice and that y;ou are resolved to do so. ” “You despise me,” she said, “I . know you do.” “I do. I think you evil.” She uncovered her face and turned upon him resignedly. “Very well, then. I cannot help your thoughts. I’m sorry 1 made any appeal to you. You shall be dealt with in the same manner as the rest.” “Good. That is as I desire to be dealt, with.” She went over .to the divan in the corner of the room, took a cigarette from, the table at her side, lit .it, loaned back against tbe cushions, and knitted her brows in thought. After a time, she began to speak; her tone and manner were those of" a powerful employer giving orders to*his clerk. “ You will write to your Bank,” she said. “ You will.indicate what stock you wish to sell —your Great Western {Railways, for example, and your Leeds Corporation, and perhaps your Mydclhoy Gold mines. But you yourself will know which of vour stock c;ju most quickly be realised. For time is the chief consideration. In, writing to your Bank you will insist upon this. You will mark your letter ‘Private and Confidential, and you will provide' plausible reasons for wishing to have so large a sum of money in gold. You will write on Hotel Splciulide notepaper, and you will authorise your bank to pay over the money to the bearer of your letter whom y.ou will introduce to your bank manager as an old and trusted friend.” £ She stopped as though expecting Frank to make some remark. But he remained silent. , She looked at him. An inscrutable smile was playing about; his lips; it angered her; she felt she was being treated with contempt. “You heard what I said?” she asked. Still smiling, he inclined his head. “Very well, then. You will find writing materials on the desk by your side. Also a supply of Bote] Splendid e note-paper. I. will leave von for half-an-hour. It is very late and perhaps you are tired; nevertheless, you must write your letter at once, for every hour is precious.” He turned to the desk .-is though willing to obey her orders and, as he did so, she slid off the divan and walked slowly to the door. He turned his head to watch her. What grace there was in her every movement! Wliaf qucenliucss and beauty! Who could guess that in that head, with its luminous', candid eyes, there lay so much vileness and cruelty? Yet was she entirely evil? Perhaps not. .Perhaps as she herself had insisted, she did indeed

hate her life aiul all the sordid luxury it entailed. ’ As she (turned the handle of the door, she gave him a look in which therdHks a curious tenderness a look > almdSTof self-surrcader. The door closed behind her. On the instant, he was on his fuel. Quickly i and noiselessly ha moved abomt the , room, drawing aside the tapestries that i draped the walls. To every prisonei, L his place of conlincment is a matter of supreme interest, for he always hopes i there is a way of escape. It was for a i way of escape that Prank Mitchell ■ was now looking. In less than a minute he had had ■satisfied himself there were no 'lidows. It was as he had thought. Near the ceiling were two small apertures by means of which the room "was ventilated. Nor was itihere any other door. The only means of exit, it was quite evident, was the door by which he had entered. And that door was, no doubt, locked in some secret manner. ■He returned to *he desk and sat down. Escape, it seemed, was impossible. Well, it did nor. very much matter. He fully intended, of course, to write the letter, for only by .that means could ho communicate his whereabouts to the outside world; but he recognised it. would be unwise to write it without iirsft: offering «*nsidera.b'le resistance, for if he (Fid so his complaisance might very easily excite the suspicions of Princess Wareski. But already he had, in iiis own mind, begun to frame the letter in order that, when the time for writing had arrived, he would beable to introduce his code with natural ■ case and quickness. The silent entrance of the Princess interrupted his mediation. ‘■‘You have finished, 1 see,” she said, coming,to his side. “No,” lie answered, “I have not begun.” “You liml the letter difficult?” “1. find it more than difficult. it is impossible for me to write iff” He rose. “I am very tried,” he said. “Do provide your victims with sleeping apartments? Is so, perhaps one of vour fellow criminals will show me mine. ’ ’ He had expected an outburst of anger; indeed ,his contemptuous,-amused tone had 'been purposely assumed ii order to provoke it. But she answer etl him with a note of real sadness am regret in her voice. “I am dreadfully sorry,” sue said “I am sorry because you will have t( suffer. it is foolish of you, Mr Mi cholic. Before you sleep, that lette: must be written.” “What do you intend to do?” h< said. “You will soon know. You will giv< way—you will obey. They all do.” “ We shall see.” She hovered a, few minutes by hi: side, hoping he would relent. But lit made no sign. “Very well, then. What must be must he.” Again she left him. And now the spirit of light was aroused within him He did not 'believe for one moment, that they would touch Audrey; indeed, lie felt convinced she was still in England, for the difficulties in the way of abducting her across the Channel were stupendous. No, they intended to torture him. Very well. He would resist, to the last: ounce of his strength. He was soon to learn that his conjecture was right. He was in the act of taking off his coat when the two deaf mutes he hail already seen entered the room; they were accompanied by a typical bruiser—a great, hulking fellow with the face and chest of a bulldog. He closed the door. The three men watchfully approached Prank, fvlio stood regarding them with amused indifference. Not a word was spoken. The bruiser came first. When within a couple of yards of. his victim Frank leapt at him with it he swiftness and fierceness of a tiger. Catching him a clean uppercut on his chin that sent him -staggering backwards, Prank, •without a second’s..pause, followed up the attack with a crushing 'blow between the eyes with his left. The suddenness of the. assault took the deaf and dumb men so much by surprise that, for the moment, they were helpless; 'but they quickly realised the situation, and in a flash were upon, our hero. But Prank, quick as lightning leaped over the chair which, an hour ‘before, had imprisoned him, and snatching up and gripping a huge brass' statuette from the mantlepieee, raised it aloft, ready to strike. The bruiser, snarling like a wounded animal, recovered himself. He pulled his two confederates aside and signed t o them to leave him to fight Prank alone. They obeyed him at once, standing in readiness to give their help should it prove necessary. Frank had the advantages of youth, fitness and highly-trained skill; his antagonist was flashy and flabby with over-eating and over-drinking, Unit he had enormous breadth of shoulder and depth of chest, and liis sheer brute strength was collossal. (To be Continued.) j