THE GREAT LAROCHE

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 57, Issue 251, 4 August 1937, Page 7

THE GREAT LAROCHE

:: SERIAL STORY ::

By SYDNEY HORLER.

:: Copyright ::

CHAPTER XIV

ELSIE BREAKS DOWN.

Peter’s embarrassment was almost overwhelming; this was the last thing he had expected would happen. “It’s all right,” he said in an attempt to soothe the sobbing girl, “it’s silly to say it was your fault. No blame could possibly be placed on you —it’s just that the luck has been against us; that’s all.” But the words produced fresh sobs. “I can’t stand any more,” she >'eplied, “my uncle knew what he was doing when he came to Loudon, but I never thought I should bring all this trouble on you. Don’t you really know what has happened to your sister?” she went on to ask. “Stop that crying !” ordered Denton in a tone of semi-humorous rebuke. “Had you finished talking to Sir Harker when I came in ” “Yes ... I think so. He must be almost as w r eary of me as you are.” Peter gently shook her. “Who said I was weary of you?” he returned. “You haven’t put it into words, I know—but your face showed it when you came in.just now.” Although he had never felt less like jesting in his life, Peter made a mild joke. “You musn’t blame me for my. face, Miss Norris—l didn’t have much say in its making, you know.” “I think it’s a very nice face,” was the unexpected comment; and then, as though this spontaneous remark had caused her acute confusion, she went on: “I must go; I shouldn’t have worried Sir Harker at all if it hadn’t been that his name and address were on a card which my uncle—” here she stopped for a moment and choked back a fresh sob—“gave me before all this started. My uncle told me that if anything happened to him and I was in any difficulty I was to go straight to Sir Harker.” “Exactly! That’s just what this place is for—to help people in difficulties.” He was thankful the Mole wasn’t within earshot; if Bellamy ever heard him give expression to such sentiment he would go up in flames. At the same time, he had gathered from the Chief’s manner that he would not be sorry if he found the girl gone by the time he returned to the room. Which was why, ' when Elsie Norris picked up her bag from the chair on which she had been sitting, he made no further attempt to detain her. “Where are you going?” He felt he had to know this, however. During the last few minutes he had seen another side to this girl. Before, she had infuriated him on occasion, but now all that was gone. If only—but he told himself not to be a fool. Back to the nursing home; my uncle is dying.” “Dying? Surely not?” She bit her lip. “The Specialist they called in says there is no hope. Sir Harker practically told me so before we came along here this morning.” Renton did not know what to say beyond the conventional “I’m terribly sorry . . . If I can do anything.” “Thank you.” By this time she was at the door. “Can I come with you?” he proffered. IShe shook her head. “Sir Harker will be wanting to talk to you . . . Goodbye.” She was gone before he could say anything in reply to this. Bellamy returned so quickly that he might have been an actor waiting in the wings for bis cue. “Where’s that girl?” he snapped. “She seemed to have the idea that you wanted her out of the way, sir a nice child,” Peter added, as though speaking to himself. “At the moment she’s an infernal nuisance,” was the older man’s retort. “She’s no information worth a damn regarding the work her uncle may 01 may not have been engaged on, and what is to happen to her when he dies —as ho may do at any moment, according to Sir Robert Pertwee, the specialist who has been called in—l do not know. Perhaps you would take on the responsibility?” he added with a sly smile. Before Peter could answer, the speaker’s manner had changed yet again. There was no hint of humour in Bellamy’s voice as he went on: “But you came here to tell me about Susan. Have you heard anything?” “Yes, sir—something pretty damnable, too.” When he had told the story of the two voices on the telephone the night * before, Bellamy frowned. “Jacquard may be right,” he stated. “In any case I will have Soho combed to-day for this man Horst. And now go away and rest —if any news should come in on either side we will let each other know.” «e Jie * * Elsie started to walk down Whitehall feeling that she was in a mental maze. An extraordinary thing had happened to her: without any effort on her part, she had fallen in love with this young Secret Service agent, Peter Renton. That in itself would have been bewildering enough—but the situation was further complicated by tlie knowledge that Renton not merely despised, but now had reason to hate her! Ho had forced himself to be polite just now, it was true, but that was merely superficial courtesy. He was not likely to forget—bow could he?—that tlie sister be almost idolised had been placL ed in a position of terrible danger through her instrumentality.

What could she do? She wanted to do something very badly—but the sense of futility was overwhelming. It was whilst she was still walking in this kind of dream-state that, unnoticed by her, a car drew up at the kerb. A man without a hat jumped out and caught her by the arm. “Excuse me, Miss Norris—you are Miss Norris, aren’t you?” he inquired anxiously. “Yes—l’m Elsie Norris.” “I’m from the nursing home; we knew you’d been to see Sir Harker Bellamy and ” She interrupted him. “What’s the matter. Is my uncle “That’s why I’ve come in this car, pointing to it, “I’m Doctor Martin, I should explain—one of the consultativ e medical staff. Sir Robert Pertwee, who is still at the home, is afraid that the end is quite near. That’s why I came to fetch you.” In spite of her prostrating sense of grief, Elsie found time to murmur her thanks. • , “That’s most awfully'kind of you, doctor,” Behind her back the man flashed the driver of the car a significant smile. Once the door had been closed behind her, the car shot off at a tremendous speed. Elsie might have wondered at this dangerous paste had not an explanation been rendered beforehand. Yet it was not until she felt a sharp prick in her arm and turned quickly to see “Dr Martin” leering at her in a suggestive manner that she realised that the world had turned upside down, instead of being a friend, this man was an enemy! Then the powerful drug which had been sent into her body through the hypodermic needle, began to take effect. Within a few seconds she was unconscious. She awoke to find a, face that filled her with fear staring inflexibly at her. By what calamitous mishap had she fallen again into the hands of her uncle’s enemy she did not know—it was sufficient that this appalling truth was brought home to her. “You have given a great deal of trouble, young lady, and for that, of course, you must expect punishment. But in the first place I want you to tell me exactly what has happened to you since you were on my houseboat. Omit nothing; I want to hear every detail.” What was the use of her holdyag out? That would not do any good. 'So, quite simply and as clearly as her still befogged brain would permit, she narrated the chain of incidents that had occurred since the escape from the hideaway on the River Hamble. And she wound up with these words: “I know nothing about my uncle’s work, as I told Sir Harker Bellamy this morning. Consequently I could not give you his secrets, even if I wanted to. As for my uncle, he is in a dying condition—but you must have known that yourself otherwise you would not have been able to play off that trick on me. What worries me more than anything is the fact that Mr Renton’s sister has been kidnapped by one of your men.” Laroche, who had been playing with some pencils on the table before him, now stopped this activity. “What’s that you say?” he demanded. Elsie repeated wha.t she had previously said. “I know nothing about this, ” replied the man to her astonishment, “but I will make inquiries. In the meantime, you will stop here.” “But why? I’ve already told you I don’t know anything.” , “I have heard you,” was the answer, “but that is not to say I believe you.” It was useless for Elsie''to protest; before she could say anything more, a man had entered in response to a summons from Laroche, caught her by the arm and had dragged her out of the room. 9 The ex-priest scowled as he continued to sit at his desk. His reaction to the last item of news that the prisoner had given him was extremely annoying. He rang the desk bell again. “Yes, boss?” said the vallainouslooking man wlio appeared so quickly he might have been shot out of a. trapdoor. “What’s the last you bear’d about that swine Horst?” inquired his superior. ' Stokes (Stowisky in the original) scratched his head. “Last I heard, boss, was that he’d gone across to Paris.” “It’s a lie! I don’t believe it. He’s in London somewhere and you’ve got to find him! Don’t let him know you’re trailing him—but telephone directly you have any news. And don’t forget this is important.” “0.K.,” boss. (To be continued.)