THE GREAT LAROCHE

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 57, Issue 255, 9 August 1937, Page 7

THE GREAT LAROCHE

SERIAL STORY

By SYDNEY HORLER.

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CHAPTER XVIII. THE LACQUER BOX. Laroche stood transfixed. “What does this mean?” ho demanded. The tramp kept him covered as he replied: “If you put any value on your life at all, Laroche, you will unlock my friend Jacquard’s handcuffs. Quickly, now!” he continued in a tone there was no misunderstanding. “All right, Renton;” snarled the expriest; “I shall remember this.” The disguised young British Secret Service agent bowed ironically. “Thanks for the nuts—” By this time the Frenchman had his hands free. He crossed the floor and now stood by his rescuer’s side. “You’re in charge, mon vieux,” ha stated: “what would you like me to do?” “See that I’m not interrupted,” Renton replied; “there is another very important matter I wish to discuss with our friend here.’’ As Jacquard moved away to the right, the direction fi om which any disturbance might bo expected to come, Peter turned his attention once again to Laroche. “Where are the girls?” he inquired. “The girls?” repeated the other :n a tone of surprise; “are you accusing me of keeping an immoral house?” Into the expression of his face flushed a look which few people had seen. “You know me, Laroche,” replied Renton; “you know that when I say a thing I mean it. And when I say that unless you tell me where my sister and Miss Norris may be found, I’ll shoot you like the dog you are—'’ Be stopped. “I know they haven’t left here with Von Staltheim because I watched him drive away a few moments before I came into the house. Where are they, you swine?” he cried glancing into the room. “First of all tell me what has happened to Kuhn.” “At the moment he should be lock ed in one of the kitchen cupboards—but he may break out, of course— m which, case he will be in time to run into the arms of the police, who are due here at any moment.” Scarcely had the words left his mouth, before a terrific hammering was heard from outside. “There they are,” continued Renton. “Do you mind going down and letting them in, Jacquard?’* And' as the Frenchman obeyed the order he turned once again to his enemy. “The place is surrounded, Laroche,” he said. “You haven’t an earthly. But if you. tell me where I can find the two girls before the police arrive, I’ll promise not to paint too black a picture about you past. Is it a bet?” Laroche shrugged. “You’ve got me beaten, Renton,” he admitted. “The two young women are in a cellar below this room. Your sfister was captured by a former associate of mine, Horst ” “I knew all about that,” he was told sharply. “I don’t want to waste any time on past history. Where’s they key to this cellar?” The ex-priest pointed to a shabby black lacquer box on a side table. “In there,” he said, “can’t you give me a sporting chance to get away??” “I might— if I felt sure yem weren’t lying,” he said. “I swear to God I’m telling you the truth,” came the fervent protestation. “All right—come with me to the cellar, show me the girls, satisfy me that no harm has come to either of them —and then I’ll see.” With that Peter put out a hand to lift the lid of the box—and then, sensing a possible trick, withdrew it. “We shall have to be quick!” cried Laroche. “The girls have been quite safe up to now, but one of my men is down there with them and if he hears the police moving about he may get nasty. I don’t want to have to answer a charge of accessory for murder.” Peter looked at him steadily. “You’re trying to fool me, Laroche,” he said sternly. “Don’t be an ass!” exploded the other, “do you think I should be trying to play the fool at a time like this? Quick, give me the key!” “No!” By this time they could both hear the heavy tramp of feet on the stairs. “Please yourself—but always remember I warned you.” Peter reached out his hand again. He lifted the lid of the shabby black lacquer box. As he did so there was the sound of a slight and instantly small cloud of dense yellow vapour belched into the room. It filled his mouth and nostrils, making him choke. It got into his eyes causing him such intense agony that he was forced to close them. Whilst he was thus temporarily blinded he heard a laugh and then came a noise like the opening and closing of door. The man who had instrduced himself as Detective Inspector Kentish of Scotland Yard shook his head. “A clever trick, sir,” lie said, how are the eyes?” “Better,” replied Renton shortly. “I might have known . • is there any trace of the girls?” The police officer shook his head, for the second time. “I’m. afraid not, sir, they must have been taken aw.jy beforo we arrived.” “And Laroche?” “There is no sign of him, sir—he probably escaped through the trap door in the floor of that room upstairs. T should explain that it was the Assistant Commissioner himself who sent us

along here, Mr Renton; we got the address from Sir Harker Bellamy.” “Yes .. . yes,” replied Renton abstractedly. “Well, I’m grateful to you, Inspector.” “We haven’t entirely failed, sir,” was the reply, “we’ve arrested that neen’o and another man. ' „ * * *

If Pierre Laroche could have seen Peter Renton’s face at that moment his evil mind would have gloated: the young British agent felt as though the earth had fallen on him. But Laroche himself was too occupied with the task in hand to be able to devote any time to what be had left behind. The instant he saw his enemy suffering discomforture, he pulled aside the carpet, raised the ring of the tiap door so cunningly concealed in the floor, pressed a button, and got into the small lift which came up to meet him. He descended in this until the cellars were reached. Pressing a concealed button in the wall, be passed through a solid piece of masonry that swung sideways and entered a room that might have done justice to an old-time prison. “Quick set out 1” he ordered the man who rose at his entrance; “the house is being raided by, the police. Go out the secret way which leads to the river and take those two,” pointing to the crouching girls, with you. “One word from either of you,” he proceeded to threaten the captives, “and it will be the last sound you will make on this earth.” Susan nudged the girl by her side to be silent. Although she felt herself to be bursting with indignation, she knew that this was not the time to be precipitative: Laroche was in a dangerous mood; ho would not think twice about cutting their throats if he were afraid that they would betray him. As for' Elsie Norris, she was content to leave herself in the hands of the other girl—the sister of the man she loved. It was the strangest coincidence that fate should have thrown them together in this way—and she was still optimistic enough to believe that there must have been a purpose in it. i , , . So, obeying the unspoken order, she remained silent. « * * * Laroche, this task done, had other business to see to. Whilst the thick walls of this ancient Deptford house prevented any sound from above coming to him, he descended a rope ladder hanging from what had once been a garden wall. From the bottom rung of this, he stepped into a boat. The darkness was so intense that it was not until he had switched on a powerful electric torch that he was able to see his immediate surroundings. On either side of him were the walls of a tunnel against which he had to push with his hands in order to propel the small boat. After adventuring in this way lor some considerable time, Laroche saw some faint gleams of moonlight shining through an arch ahead. This was where the sluice ran into the river, and he was not sorry when he reached the spot; it had been a nightmare journey; huge grey rats had glared venomously at him as he had passed, and the slime of the tunnel walls caused him to shudder each time his flesh touched it. At’ the entrance to the arch there were a number of steps. Before giving the boat, for which lie had no further use, a vigorous shove which he knew would carry it downstream by the tide, now running strongly, ha jumped ashore. Climbing the steps, he made for a house, backing on to the river, whose windows were brilliantly lit. As he knocked three times on the Iront door, the sound'of dancing and other revelry crashed against his eardrums. An iron grille, in the upper portion of the door clicked, and Laroche saw a pair of eyes scrutinising him. Then the door itself was opened. Laroche, with a nod to the guardian of the pass, walked into a huge room, measuring forty feet by thirty or so. This was filled with as heterogeneous a mass of humanity as could be imagined. There were sailors, it would seem, from all the ports of the world dancing with painted girls to the strains of an electric piano. Blousy waitresses and ever more frousy-look-ing waiters, darted hither and thither carrying trays heavily loaded with food and drinks. Glaring lights lit up a scene that might have been fashioned out of the drug-ridden brain of a degenerate artist. The arrival of the visitor was the signal for the proprietor of this sailors’ night-dive, a greasy-faced Greek named Kolykos, to come forward. “Where are my men?” demanded Laroche. The Greek almost bent himself double. ‘ “In the back room, Mister Laroche,” be replied, in an obsequious whisper. “Thank you, Kolykos. And here s a tip for you—clear the place; the police are hanging around.” Without waiting to vouchsafe any further information, the speaker passed through the crowd of revellers —narrowly escaping being knocked down by a one-legged man who was swaying to the music of the concertina he was playing whilst propped up by a crutch into the further room. Here he found a number of his gang dallying with a yet further supply of painted women. “Out of this!” lie curtly ordered. “The police have raided the house.” * * * * Twenty minutes later when the police arrived at “The Green Sailor,” Kolykos presented a picture of injured innocence. “Mister Laroche?” lie repeated to a stern-faced detective; “no, 1 know no such person. And why should he come hero in any case?—all my trade is gone through the interference of you policemen; an honest man can no longer earn a. living in England. Where is the justice of it all?” “Not so much gab, funny-face,” was the coldly-insulting reply; “there’s plenty of justice about all right—if only you know where to look for it; and one day it’s going to send you to clink and keep you there. Meanwhile go and have a bath —you smell l” (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.