THE GREAT LAROCHE

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 57, Issue 246, 29 July 1937, Page 7

THE GREAT LAROCHE

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| By SYDNEY HORLER. |

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CHAPTER IX

It was now Laroche who hesitat’d He had no suspicion of the cheque itself; what irked him was the knowledge that the matter was now going to bo taken out of his hands. Still, it had been a.n easy day’s work and the payment was satisfactory. ‘Til take your cheque—make it out to ‘bearer,’ ” he said. “Atnd now,” stated the visitor, when he had passed the grey slip of paper across the table, “I should like to see the prisoners.”

“Prisoners?” echoed Laroche. “Surely Kuhnreich does not want to be bothered with the girl and Kenton?” “My strict instructions were to take all three back with me to Pe,” was the quick reply. “As you say yourself, this young fellow Renton has given us a great deal of trouble in the past, and it is time the account was squared.” The speaker pulled out his watch. “I can spare no further time” he said. “The air liner I have chartered leaves within an hour.”

Laroche’s quick-working mind made him ask yet another question.

“Can you manage them all on your own?”

“Easily. I presume you have taken ordinary precautions?” “I have put handcuffs on all of them, if that is what you mean.”

“Good. Then we will get to business. Lead tho way, please, my dear Laroche.”

It was so unlike Oscar von Staltheim to evidence any sign of graciousness that the ex-priest stared. “I Will call the chief warder,” he said with a grin that answered the smile on the other man’s face. A few seconds later Kuhn showed himself.

“And who tho devil do you say this is?” thundered Von Staltheim. It seemed that the, unexpectedness of meeting such an apparition had momentarily shaken his nerve. Laroche bowed like an impresario.

“This, my, dear Von Staltheim, is my major-domo, my chief of staff, my cook, my head warder, and on occasion my ‘personal persuader’?”

“Talk sense—what do you mean ‘personal persuader’?” “Call it torturer and you will not be far wrong,” was the answer. “Tell him to go flint,” was the military attache’s comment. * * * * The prisoners stared as the three men entered. The eyes of the gul lacked lustre, those of the inventor were haggard; only Peter Renton of tho trio showed defiance. “It seems that I am under the painful necessity of losing you, my dear people,” announced Laroche in his most oily tone. “This gentleman,” glancing at Von Staltheim, who was standing a little behind him, “has come here to- night to take you off my hands. Aren’t you curious t-o know your next destination, Mr Renton?” the speaker went on goadingly. But Renton was not to be drawn. He continued to stare not at Laroche but at tho stranger. This man whom the ex-priest was introducing as a typical specimen of the Ronstadtian military caste; no mercy to be expected from that quarter. Laroche went on with his talk.

‘ ‘Since you are not interested, Renton, I will pass on the information to you companions, I am sure, Monsieur Marve, that you will be delighted to know that before twenty-four hours have passed you will be in the presence of the Dictator of the great country I serve. You are, in short to be taken to Pe where His Excellency, Herr Kuhnreich, is awaiting you with, some impatience. I had hoped—alas for human aspirations—to have extracted

the necessary information concerning your formula myself, but it was not to be. However, 1 pass j r ou over to Major Oscar von Staltheim ” ‘'You fool,” blazed the man standing at his back; “no names,, please!” “But why,” returned the other sweetly; “you must ha-ve made your arrangements so admirably that no hitch can possibly occur. And a good many people in England besides these three poor unfortunates are aware that you are Major Oscar von Staltheim, military attache for the Ronstadtian Government at the Court of St. James’.” .

His listener showed increasing impatience. “Enough of this,” he growled—“please send that man,” pointing to the gigantic negro who had been eyeing Peter Renton with close attention, “outside to see that the coast is clear,” Somewhat surprisingly, Laroche stopped his conversational flow. “I will go myself,” he stated. Directly the door had closed behind the two, the military attache held up his hand.

If Peter Renton had not stepped heavily on her foot the girl would have given a shriek denoting excitement; as it was, she stared at the stranger as though, instead of being very solid flesh and blood ho had taken on the trappings of a ghost.

Renton did not speak; but his next action was eloquent enough; ho turned round and so displayed his manacled wrists.

The mystery-man nodded as though he appreciated the position, but before he could do anything Laroche had returned, The ex-priest was 4 smiling evilly. “The car is waiting,” lie stated, f'tTioro is no moon and silence and solitude abound. In short, the conditions would appear to bo propitious for your leave taking. But my dear von

Staltheim,” coming closer and staring into the other’s face, “I have had a. change of heart as well as a change of mind.”

“What in the devil’s name are you talking about now?” roared tho other.

Instead of replying immediately, Laroche made a sign to Kuhn, who took up a position by the door. It was not until the negro had thus constituted himself as a formidable harrier to tho outside world that Laroche made any attempt to explain himself. And when he did so he dwelt ,so lovingly on every word that he might have been said to caress the very syllables. “I said a minute ago that I bad had a change of heart as well as a change of mind. It is true; when I stood on tho riverbanlc just now and saw once again bow beautiful nature was, how magnificent, bow elevating, bow inspiring—l felt, my dear von Staltheim that I must make some attempt to reform my methods and to change my life. It was a solemn moment, I can assure you.” “Come to the point,” was the impatient rejoinder. “And undergoing this change of heart, I experienced also a change of mind—but I believe I have said that before. In any case, I felt bow wrong it would be for me to deliver up these three defenceless creatures —who are human beings like ourselves, my dear von Staltheim —so that they could bo maltreated at the hands of the Ronstadt Secret Police.”

“A traitor, eh?” “No, not a traitor, my dear von Staltheim. Call me instead a reformed character. The brief communion I had with nature just now convinced me that I had dwelt in the ways of sin too long ...” He shot a question over his shoulder. “You felt that way too, Kuhn, didn’t you?” The hideous negro grinned from ear to ear..

“Sure, boss.” Laroche smiled—and to the keenly watching Renton it seemed the most treacherous distortion of the human face that he had ever known.

“In short—?” snapped von Staltheim.

“In short, my dear von IStaltheim, I am not going to give these three persons up to you. On the other hand £ intend to communicate immediately with tho British Government, to make complete confession of my previous misdoings and to throw myself on to His Britannic Majesty’s mercy. I am sure —especially in view of the information I can give the British Intelligence Department, at the head of which is my old friend Sir Harker Bellamy—that I shall be treated leniently.” If he expected the other to burst into a tornado of rage he was disappointed. On the contrary, von Staltheim became almost conciliatory. “I am afraid your change of heart has come a little late in the day, Laroche,” he stated. “I would point \ out to you the following facts. One, that you have recently committed a most serious crime on British soil—l am speaking, of course, from the English standpoint—two, that you have a long record of what you call ‘misdoings’ against you, and three, that you have in your possession a cheque signed by me valued at over twenty thousand (pounds. Moreover —and you appear to have forgotten this point—the arm of Kuhnreich is long; it can reach you in any part of the world. Have you ignored that?” “I have ignored nothing,” was the answer. “Then you still persist?”

“I still persist.” “Very well. Then, because I have to cover myself, I will ask you to do just one tiling.” “And that?”

“I want you to sign a paper testifying that, although I came down here as arranged, you refused to hand me over the prisoners.” By this time, the speaker had taken from a waistcoat pocket a bulky-look-ing fountain pen. “My dear von Staltheim—” Laroche got no further. A scream of agony broke from his lips. For the fountain pen held by the supposed Major von Staltheim had turned itself into a tiny revolver loaded with an invisible but deadly gas. The next moment pandemonium reigned.

(To he continued.)

The characters in this story are entirely imaginary. No reference is intended to any living person or to any public or private company.