The Gorgon

Waikato Times, Volume 108, Issue 18170, 7 November 1930, Page 4

The Gorgon

I Serial Story |

| (By J. Lindsay Hamilton.) | | (All Rights Reserved.) a

- SYNOPSIS. Colonel Dalnton Is concerned about the disappearance of his brother-in-law, Jim Rowson, the vagabond millionaire. He consults Dr. Farrer, an eminent nerve specialist, who describes how Rowson called on him six weeks ago in a state of nervous collapse, -leaving in his care,a remarkably hideous mummy. Colonel Dalnton confides in his daughter Helen and her friend Peter Southwark, and tells them his fear that Rowson has met with foul play, as it is known that he drew from the bank £BOO,OOO prior to his disappearance.

During the night the Colonel’s manservant, Jenkins, is found brutally murdered.

Andrew Eden, of the Foreign Office, is secretly working to destroy a criminal organisation ruled by a mysterious being known as “The Gorgon." He believes the latter to bo responsible for Rowson’s disappearance and the murder of Jenkins. A cable advises the Colonel that Celia, Rowson’s daughter, is on her way from America. Eden insists on the importance of meeting her at Southampton. While waiting at the landing-stage, the Colonel’s attention is drawn to a nervous little man.

CHAPTER VII. The Convalescent Home. As the ambulance drew steadily away from the landing-stage a lohg, low saloon car might have been observed to glide out from a near-by goods yard and proceed leisurely in the same direction. Its occupant was hidden from view by the partially lowered blinds, a precaution which was effective without at the same time advertising itself at significant. Eden, for it was he, leaned back, and a gentle smile played over his features. Only his eyes, coldly aloof, startlingly grim, presented a . striking, contrast with his general air of innocent amusement.

He had guessed and guessed aright. But Eden’s guesswork was no happy-go-lucky plunge in the dark. If they had only known it, many a man now sewing postal bags at His Majesty's pleasure might reasonably have guessed the uncanny accuracy of Eden’s guesses. Colonel Dalnton, he had at once perceived, was being closely watched. To thriist himself unnecessarily under that vigilance when he had reason to believe he had so far eluded it would have been to invite possible failure, or at the least uncomfortable complications.

i And so he smiled. Things were 1 going exactly as he had surmised. The simplicity of the scheme was ' admirable —Celia drugged by a confederate on the boat; an , ambulance all ready and waiting. As for the man shadowing Colonel Dainton, he anticipated no trouble in that quarter. He was there to provide against the ; possibility of any hitch in the proceedings. Moreover, he had been his own precautions for the Colonel's safety. \oung Stevens was a bright young fellow, a little over-eager in some ways, but quite up to a job of that nature.

And what next? he wondered. It was too much to hope that the ambulance would lead him direct to one of the Gorgon’s lairs. That would be too simple altogether, and he could hardly imagine so astute -an organiser taking such unnecessary risk.

The ambulance had taken the road to Bournemouth. Darkness had fallen, and the little saloon, with side lamps only alight, crept up to within a hundred yards of its quarry. Eden leaned forward and spoke to the driver.

“You have lived here, haven’t you, Hardy? Are there any hospitals or nursing homes along this way?” he asked.

“Only one that I know of,” ha answered. “There’s the Leaverbrooke Convalescent Home about a mile further on.” “That’s about it,” Eden mu9ed. “What could be simpler—a hospital instructed from some authoritative source to collect a patient from the boat? Once there, she is removed by supposed friends, and the trail is lost. . Infernally cool, and as safe as houses.” He grinned with reluctant admiration.

His surmise proved to be correct, for a few minutes later the ambulance turned sharply through a large iron gateway and proceeded up the drive to a long white building, unmistakably a hospital. Eden’s saloon ( came to a stop almost simultaneously behind the ambulance. He leaped out, and brushing past two attendants on the steps, entered the reception hall. - A tall, thin-faced woman of uncertain age and commanding appearance was sharply rating a trembling nurse. Her acid tones penetrated the hall. Eden smiled. He was in luck.

"Are you the matron?”' he asked, blandly interrupting the monologue.

She turned round with majestic dignity and fixed Eden with a coldly penetrating eye. “I am,” she said slowly. “And, pray, who are you?” Her manner clearly implied . that that his insignificance was only too apparent, but the dignity of her position demanded that she must await proof of the fact from his own lips. “Splendid I” said Eden, cheerfully ignoring her hostility. “The patient who has just arrived is Miss Celia Rowson. Her uncle is expecting her in London to-night. Please do all you can for her. We start in ten minutes.” The matron raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know who you are,” she remarked frigidly. “But I am not accustomed to take orders from strangers. If you are interested in the patient you had better return in the morning." ’

Eden shook his head deliberately. “No,” he said, with a quiet smile. “Too late. She goes with me tonight. You want to know my authority, of course. There are, 100, a few questions I must ask you—but not here.” , Without' another word the matron turned and led him to her private room. The hostility of her manner had, if anything, increased; but Eden’s quiet persistence and the hint of an underlying threat in his words had decided her to hear what he had to. say.

A few minutes later she was a badly shaken woman. Her dignity was impervious, but struggling up through to the unruffled, surface

were signs of astonishment and “Of course, Mr Eden, I must accept your 1 authority, but I can’t accept your story. It is absurdly fantastic. You will find ydu have ma'de a mistake. Sir Eric Desmond is not the man to lend himself to such villainy.’’ “Who is Sir Eric?” Eden-asked.

‘Hie is one of our Governors, and a most highly-respected and charming man."

Eden looked at the telegram he ■held in his hand. It ran: “Send ambulance collect patient from Caronia, Southampton. Instructions follow. —Desmond.”

“A Governor of the hospital. Of course. Tiiat explains it." “He made a note of Sir Eric’s address on the back of the telegram and slipped it into his pocket-book, j “And now,” he said briskly, “let us take a look at the patient. The ten minutes is nearly up.” They found Celia lying on a bed, dressed still in her outdoor garments. Under the ministrations of a nurse she had struggled back to consciousness, but the puckered forehead and strained eyes told their own tale of the pain of her awakening. “Good!” exclaimed Eden, eyeing her dispassionately'. “I’m taking you through to London, Miss Rowson, now—right away. You must have a shocking headache, and I hate to disturb you, but the need is Imperative.”

Celia returned his gaze critically. What she saw evidently satisfied her. She asked no questions. For the time she was unequal to any mental effort. She tried to raise herself, and lay back with a groan. "In a few minutes," she agreed wearily.

For answer Eden stepped forward with the utmost composure, and, slipping his arms under her, raised her gently and carried her out to the .car. . , i

Celia’s eyes flashed with anger, but she was too weak to resist or offer any protest against such cavalier treatment.

“I might have been a sack of coal or a piece of furniture," she told Helen some time later.

She had to admit, however, that he did everything possible to make her comfortable in the car, with cushions and wraps. And later, as the proofs of his considerate foresight became self-evident, she was almost persuaded to fprego her vows of vengeance. " \

As they left the grounds of the home an incident, . trivial enougli in itself, ■'•sddmed : .;'; f to afford Eden intense . interest. V and no' little surprise. A luxurious limousine came to rest outside the great iron, gates, and for a: moment the headlights of Eden’s rakish.. ; •little: saloon were turned direct upon it. Eden caught a glimpse of a long, thin face/ and ; a . dark, lanky figure pressing back , into the furthest corner of the car. .But it’was enough. He phrsed liis lips as though to ' ... « pluperfectly respectable Egbert, > by all a that’s wonderful,” he muttered. “Dious® Egbert • Bromilow, of .Brornilowh; and . Steele! Steele I could understand. He’s a wrong 'un, I know. But dear Egbert—hospital visiting at 7.30 in the evening! This begins to look ii. teresting.” Celia emerged a little from her wraps.

"It must be,” she said very sweetly, "frightfully interesting, but perhaps you Will, tell me what it Is all about. I might be interested too. There is quite a lot I want to know. I go to sleep in a, liner and wake up in a hospital with a perfectly awful head, and And myself at the mercy of a complete stranger who treats me as if I were a bargain he had acquired at an auction sale. Really, I think you owe me an explanation.” Eden gi'inned amiably, not in the least abashed.

"Of course you want to know,” he agreed soothingly. “Bargain snatching.” The idea seemed to tickle him. “I have done quite a lot of it from time to time. You’ll have to see my collection of old ivories some time. Bht never before——” He laughed openly, and Celia felt angrier than ever.

“Well,” she cut in coldly,; "I’m waiting to be enlightened.” “Yes, of course. But first try some of this wonderful black coffee. It will clear your head.” He produced a thermos flask and a small tray, with a dainty little cup and saucer, from a leather case. "I know it’s wonderful. I made it myself, and coffeemaking is one of my greatest attainments,” he admitted cheerfully.

Celia would dearly have liked to snub this complacent young man, but the aroma of the coffee was too tempting. She capitulated and began to sip it with evident enjoyment. "It certainly is wonderful,” she admitted generously. Eden then told her briefly that he was engaged in trying to trace her father; that her arrival had added complications which he did not attempt to explain; that his insistence on an immediate departure was only a wise precaution for her own welfare.

But Celia was not to be put off lightly.

“Then it is true that father is in danger? What you mean is that I, too, am running into the same danger. Now, Mr Eden, you will please tell me everything and stop treating me like a child. lam here to find father, and would undertake any risk to do it. Tell me all. I think I can be useful—even to a man of. your attainments," she ended with a spice of malice.

"I admire your courage," was all Eden said, and Celia glowed at the warmth of his. praise, and then felt annoyed -with herself for the weakness.

Forthwith, in proof of the sincerity of his remark, he plunged into the story, withholding nothing, minimising neither the difficulty of finding her father nor the extreme danger to herself.

“The anonymous letter was a trap,” he explained. , “Mother Katey, who, by the, way, will be arrested to-night, made a touching picture walking beside the stretcher. In -her own motherly way she would contrive to make herself useful to you on the boat, I suppose.” “She was a perfect nuisance,” Celia agreed. “But I put up witii it because it seemed to give her so much pleasure to do little tilings for me.” (To be continued.* .