SERIAL STORY THE GREAT LAROCHE

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 57, Issue 254, 7 August 1937, Page 9

SERIAL STORY THE GREAT LAROCHE

By SYDNEY HORLER.

Copyright IWUWWWWWYWW!

CHAPTER XVII. A CONFERENCE AT SCOTLAND YARD. It was one of the favourite private jests of Sir Harold Lellant, assistant enwraissioner of the Metropolitan Police that his old friend Sir Harker Bellamy never paid him a visit at Scotland Yard unless he was in trouble of one kind or another. And. on the principle ;■ that many a true word is spoken in jest, the statement might be said to have more than a glassing element of accuracy. Harassed as he was by many problems of his own, Sir Harold nevertheless looked up with a smile as the Chief of Q.l. was announced. “Well. Sunshine,” he smiled, “what’s your particular worry this time?” Bellamy grunted q.s he slipped into the proffered chair. Then, before he vouchsafed any further comment, he pulled out pipe and tobacco pouch and filled a battered briar. “Still smoking that drain-pipe?’’ inquired the assistant-commissioner. “In that case I must take counter measures.’’ And, pulling; open a drawer in his desk, he produced a long, black cigar and lit it with every indication of relish. He had not taken more than three puffs,. however, before his mood changed. It was all very well for Bellamy and he to have their private jokes, but his old friend was looking very down in the mouth. “What’s the matter, old chap?” he now asked. Bellamy smoked steadily for a .full minute before answering. 'Tm up against a very difficult problem, Harold,” he then stated—and without further preamble, he narrated the whole course of events that had taken place since Paul Marve had announced his intention of coming to London. “I’m’very fond of this boy Renton — he’s one of ray favourite agents.” he wound up. “4nd, naturally, I must do everything I possibly can to find his sister and get her out of the clutches of the swine who calls himself Edward Horst. By the way, what do you know about this man?” Lellant immediately fang for a de-tective-inspector. The latter, after lis tening intently, returned some minutes later with a file. “You’ll find certain details in here, sir,” he stated, “he is mixed up with the white slave gang, of which Claude Boisset was one of the leaders.” “My God!” ejaculated Bellamy under his breath. When tho inspector had gone, he , turned again to Lellant. “I want your help in this business, old man,” he pleaded. “And you shall have it! What have you done yourself, so far?” “I have sent every available man to Soho to make an inquiry; I am expecting a telephone message at any moment. But I want your assistance as well.” “If Horst is in London, our men will find him,” confidently announced the Assistant Commissioner. There was a knock at the door. “Yes?” i The same detective-inspector who had been called into the conference a minute before, now announced a visitor. “Mr Peter Renton,” he said. Lellant, who had met Renton on several previous occasions, extended a hearty welcome to the young man. “I went along to the office, sir,” the latter informed Bellamy, “and they told he that I should find you here. I hope you don’t mind, Sir Harold?” looking at the assistant commissioner. “I’m very glad to see you, my boy, ’ was the reassuring answer. The telephone on the speaker’s desk rang. “Excuse me,” murmured Lellant and took off the.receiver. A couple of seconds later he turned to Bellamy. “This is for you,” he said. The Chief of Q.l. listened intently to the words that came to him ovor the wire. Then, shaken out of his usual gravity, he cried excitedly: “My men have found him— Peter Renton then did an unprecedented thing. Without first making his apologies, ho tore the receiver out of his superior’s hands and took charge of the proceedings. “This is Renton,” he stated ; “where are you speaking from?” A couple of minutes later, he replaced the receiver and stood up. “I’ll see you later, Chief,” he announced, and was rushing towards the door before either of the older men could stop him. Sir Harold Lellant, who, for all his outward jocularity, was a great stickler for the correct thing, frowned as the door banged. “An impetuous young man,” he ;c----marked. “He has every reason to be at the moment,” was the reply. “Now listen, Harold ——” It was not until another ten minutes had passed that Sir Harker Bellamy, looking 10 years younger, walked out of Scotland Yard. * » * Laroche continued to look at his distinguished prisoner. “I’ve got a propostion to make to you Jacquard— and I think it would Ve worth your while to listen caiefully to what I have to say.” “I have no objection to that,” returned the Frenchman. “In the course of a. somewhat full life,” went on the ex-priest, “I have

many times verified the truth of the proverb, ‘Every man lias his price.’ Now, please be patient enough to listen without interruption to what is in my mind. “You are due, as I told you just now to make an immediate journey io Pe. Your reception there will depend on the report that I shall either give m person or send in writing.” “Very interesting,” commented Jacquard, “but I don’t quite see ” “You will in a minute,” ho was assured. “The thought has just occurred to me that you might- like to go to Pe as a friend instead of an enemy—as an honoured guest instead of a captive for whom various forms of humiliation and physical distress—l will put it no higher than that-—are destined. “We have been personal enemies up till now, my dear Jacquard,” continued the mellifluous voice, “but I see no reason why this antagonism should be continued. In short, my friend, why not join us?” The mobilo face of the Frenchman became a mask of controlled feelings. “Is it your intention to suggest that I should become a traitor?” he asked. “The circumstances are somewhat peculiar, as you, with your intelligence, wil appreciate. I offer you life and a good position against death and—but we will not go into that,” returned the ex-priest. A slight smile flickered over the face of tho listener. “May I inquire what has caused you to evidence such consideration on my behalf?” asked Jacquard; “at the best, it is very sudden, surely, this change of attitude?” Laroche conceded the point. “I am actuated by the best of motives —humane principles,” was the answer. Insteading of laughing out loud—as he strongly inclined to do—the prisoner bowed. “I appreciate that,” he said. Had his hands been free instead of being confined in a pair of manacles his reply 'might have taken a very different form. As it was, it gave him secrot amusement to lead the other on. “Supposing I were ready to consider your terms—what then?” he asked. “Then I should be compelled to express my admiration for your sound eommonsense.” “And the price of my—going over?” “It would be a handsome one—but exactly what I ata not authorised to say.” “I’ll think it over.” What tho other had at the back of his mind Jacquard could not tell; but, in any case, considering tho perilous position .he was in, he considered that it was quite within the rules of the game to mako this answer. At this moment, the door opened and a voice made an announcement: “There’s someone to see you, boss.” “Who is it?” “He says he comes from the Religious Homes”—mentioning a big organisation in London which combined social upliftment with practical philanthropy. The ex-priest turned to Jacquard. “I’m afraid that I shall have to be alone for a few minutes,” he announced and left his prisoner to his reflections. Opening the door on the right, Laroche passed through into a small anteroom. But not before he had given the man who had announced the viistor instructions to keep the Frenchman well watched. After that, he seated himself at a small table in the centre of the room and awaited his visitor. This proved to be a down-and-out of the type in which the Religious Homes organisation specialised. This particular specimen looked, as though he had not shaved for at least a fortnight; he was dressed in a nondescript assortment of garments and appeared half-starved. Nevertheless, the ex-priest regarded him favourably. This was the type of recruit that he liked. Men of this description could generally be relied upon to do any dirty work—with not too many questions asked . He began his interrogatory. “Your name?” “John Smith, sir.” “Do you come from the Religious Homes?” “Yes, sir,” producing a crumpled and soiled piece of paper. Laroche studied this carefully. It was in the nature of a certificate and bore testimony to the fact that the bearer, one John Smith, had received food and lodging at the Edgware Road branch of tho Religious Homes and had been sent on to “Arthur Morrison, Esq.,’’ in the hope that the latter would be able to provide him with steady work. Many months before Laroche had started a wood-chopping yard not far from where ho was now sitting, and so far the system had worked very well. Always bearing in mind the possibility that his Ronstadtian paymaster might call upon him quite suddenly to provide'a large number of men who might be detailed for sabotage work in the event of Great Britain being invaded, he had looked ahead. “Yes, this seems quite satisfactory, he stated, placing the certificate on the table, “but the trouble with so many of you men, you know, is that you are really not looking for work, but——” “I’m looking for work right enough,” returned the other; ‘♦you just try me.” “Well, what can you do?” “Anything. I’m right up against it. sir, as 3 T ou can see for 1 yourself. I’d do anything—short of murder.” “You musn’t talk like that,” came the remonstrance. “Well, I don’t know that I’d stop even at murder if the pay was good enough—and it was safe. I tell you I’m desperate, sir ” The ex-priest regarded him intently for a couple of minutes. At the end of that time he made known his decision “Well, perhaps I can find yoa work,” he said. “In the meantime yoa can go down to the kitchen and my servants will give you some food. After that wo’ll have another talk.” The derelict stood up. “Thank you, sir, I’ll never forget your kindness.” “That’s all right,” he was informed. Tho speaker rose and walked to the door. “Kuhn!” he called loudly. Thero was no answer. “Where can the fellow be?” Laroche asked himself. Turning to the

visitor he said: “Wait here, my man, and I’ll get my servant to take you down to tho kitchen.” Directly his footsteps were heard walking along the passage outside, a strange change came over the down-and-out. Opening the door of the communicating room, he looked round to see that the other apartment was empty and then whispered: “Jacquard.” Tho Frenchman stared at him as though he could not believe the evidence of his eyes. But before the derelict could enlarge ; on his subject, lie had scurried back into tho ante-room. The reason was that he had heard returning footsteps. When Laroche returned accompanied by the gigantic negro, the erstwhile receiver of “Religious .HJomes” charity sat hunched in his chair the very picture of desolate humanity. “Take this poor fellow below, Kuhn, and give him something to eat and drink.” “O.K. bos9.” At the touch of the black man’s hand on his shoulder, the down-and-out rose and shuffled to the door. “I’ll never forget your kindness, sir,” he whined before disappearing. Feeling quite pleased with himself, the ex-priest went into the room and resumed his talk with the prisoner. “I was sorry to break off our conversation just now, my dear Jacquard,” he said, “but I had a little matter of business to attend to. I don’t know if in the course of your investigations concerning my work you discovered that I ran a charitable institution in these parts. Oh, but that’s by the way. Let us,” he continued, “concentrate on tho essentials. I think you will agree that I hold most of the cards at the present time: I have you hero whilst in an even safer place are the two young ladies Susan Renton and Elsie Norris.” “This is a very serious matter and 1 am afraid I shall want even more time to consider it,” ho was told. Tho manner of the other changed. “I’m afraid you will have to decide at once, Jacquard—in a few minutes Major von Staltheim will be leaving and ho will require a decision before he goes. Five minutes, I am afraid, is tho utmost limit. You merely,” taking a fountain-pen out of his waistcoat pocket, “sign a paper to the effect that you are prepared to work exclusively for Ronstadt in the future and ' J The prisoner shook his head. “There must be no written proof of my becoming a traitor,” he said firmly. Vs though convinced that the other would remain adamant Laroche’s face flushed with fury. “Wo will see about that,” he returned and, going to the door, called in a loud voice, “Kuhn!” Tho reply was unexpected. “Put up your hands!” said a voice that struck him as being familiar. There, standing in the passage, a revolver in his right hand, was the tramp. (To be continued.) The characters in this story are entirely imaginary. No reference is intended to any living person or to any public or private company.