The Gold Magnet

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 9, 1 April 1927, Page 14

The Gold Magnet

*K*

T.C. Bridges.

) Author of " The If 'hip Hand/' Price of Liberty/* " The Heme Her Father*/' &c., &c.

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS CHAPTERS I. to HI. —A ferocious face, pi esaed against the window of a train, frightens a mysterious passenger, Stuart Egerton, who is interested in Malayan tin mines, and just afterwards, the train is wrecked. Bruce Carey gets Egerton cut of the wreck, but the man is dying, lie gets Bruce to promise that he will deliver a bag. which contains an invention, to his daughter, Sylvia, who holds the key. A pitiless enemy, James Lurgati, who has ruined Bruce s half-brother, also wants the invention. Bruce finds an American friend, Randolph Colt. The motor in which they are travelling to Silvia’s cottage is held up by armed men. CHAPTERS 111. (Continued) to V.— The man pressing the revolver’s muzzle into his side tells him it’s the real thing. A man on the left bank is turning a < ineina camera. Randolph Colt whispers, “ James has got us. Give it up, Bruce." Bruce hands over the hag containing the magnet. The two men reach Deeping Cottage. Colt remains in the car whilst Bruce makes the acquaintance of Silvia F.gerton, a beatuitful girl of about 20. When Bruce tells her of the robbery of the invention entrusted to him she says it is useless without the directions, which are in her possession. He vows to re-f-over it from Lurgan. Silvia warns him that he is up against desperate men. She him the papers relating to the magnet to place in a safe deposit. Bruce re jo ns Colt. 49, Duke’s Gate, is a fine house near Hyde Park. Guests begin to arrive after 11 p.m. Claude Bryson finds his way to the gambling apartment, seats himself at a poker table, and is soon in full swing. Finally he flings his cards into the centre of the table. “Too rich for me, I die.” Bruce Carey says to his lmlf-brother. “ You ought to.” Fiercely questioned by Crane, Bruce says that he and his accomplice, Stroud, are swindling Bryson. Colt breaks in by sayitfg that in America they lynch men who play that sort of game. Crane shouts to his boys to handle those two men. All four make a combined rush at Bruce and Colt. CHAPTERS VI. to VIIL—A roughn -id-tumble of four men against two. f'laude wakes up suddenly and comes to tiie rescue of his brother’s friend. The final victory is with Carey and Colt. They leave, Claude with them. The taxi drops Colt at Artillery Mansions, Claude taking Bruce to his own digs. Bruce tells his brother about Egerton and Lurgan. and adds that Claude is to keep out of it; then he walks back to Artillery Mansions. where Colt is waiting for him. The American says that Lurgan will come along offering a fifty-flftv partnership. Bruce is indignant, but Randolph advises him to exercise diplomacy. The next day Bruce travels down to Mortimer, where Silvia dwells, to attend Egerton’s funeral Afterwards he goes to Deeping Cottage. He expresses his anxiety about Silvia’s future, and she assures him that she has an independency, inherited from her mother. Bruce gives her Colt's idea as to what Lurgan is likely to do, then takes leave, as he intends walking back to .Beading. On the way Lurgan steps out *’* wood and joins him. He proposes a h.tlf share In the new Gold Recoverv Syndicate. Bruce tells him that* he would bv dev!l er ®° illt ° P artne rsh»l> with the CHAPTER IX.—A strategic step is made by Claude, who cultivates the iemlship of Duggan, one of Lurgan’s nchmen, and finds out where Lurgan ves. A raid on the villain’s house is |gg|l contemplated.

CHAPTER XI. —PREPAHATIOXS. They say that even a professional burglar suffers from nerves when engaged in his risky vocation. Bruce, though as healthy and hard-bitten a young man as you would find in a long day’s march, was annoyed to find, as he dressed next morning, that his nerves were not in their usual condition, and that the difficulties and dangers that were before him kept cropping up in his mind. The first difficulty was that he had to get awav to Reading without letting Randolph have any inkling of his purpose. Bruce was no saint. Like most of us, he could tell a good round lie when definite need arose. But, of all people, Randolph was the last he wanted to lie to. Yet the chance of Lurgan being away from home was far too good to be missed and in spite of all his qualms, he never faltered for one moment in the resolution he had made during the previous night. He decided to have breakfast before seeing Randolph, and to use the time to invent a good excuse. But a letter which he found in the hall solved this first difficulty. It was from Silvia, who wrote that if Mr. Carey could spare a few hours she would be grateful for his help in going through her father’s papers. There might, she thought, be letters referring to the magnet. It was a simple little letter, quite short, and signed “Yours sincerely, Silvia Egerton.” yet Bruce read it again and again, and at last put it away reverently in his breast pocket. Then he went up to talk to Randolph. The latter had had some sleep, and was a little better, but the whites of his eyes were yellow, he had no appetite. and Bruce realised only too clearly that the doctor was right, and that it would be several days before the patient was on his legs %gain. “Do you mind if I desert you today. old chap?” Bruce asked. “That depends on where you are going,” replied Randolph. “To Reading.” Bruce answered. • ?Jiss Egerton has written to ask me to come down and to help her go through her father’s papers.” Randolph smiled. “Sure, go. and God bless you." "I may be late,” said Bruce. “In fact. I may stay the night in Reading.” “Stay as long as you have a mind to. I’ll be all hunky. Nurse Dainton tends me like I was made of glass.” He smiled. “Miss Silvia is sure a nice girl,” he said. “I wish you luck.” Bruce’s cheeks went brick-red “Good gracious, Randolph—why, 1 have only met her twice!” he exclaimed. “I guess once was enough—judging by the symptoms,” replied Randolph quietly. “Some folk have all the luck,” he added with a sigh. But Bruce was not happy as he left the room. Even the joy of seeing Silvia again could not compensate for the feeling that he was tricking his friend. The first thing he did was to wire Silvia to expect him early in the after-

noon; the next to tukV the Under- | ground from St. James’s in an easterly i direction. One advantage of an engineer’s training is that he knows where to buy all the tools of his trade and a few others into the bargain. Within an hour or so Bruce was equipped with an outfit such as Bill Sykes himself certainly never possessed. His next purchases were a rough suit such as a workman might have worn, an old tweed cap and a false beard and moustache which could be stuck on in a minute with a little spirit gum. Clothes and tools together he packed in a cheap second-hand bag. Twelve o’clock found him at Paddington,'where he had a mouthful of lunch in the restaurant. Then, carrying his bag. he got into the 12.30 p.m. train which landed him at Reading at a quarter-past one. On the way down lie had been considering how best to arrange things, and when he got out of the train the first thing he did was to put his bag into the cloak room. Then he secured a taxi and ordered the man to drive him to Mortimer. There was not going to be any concealment about the first part of the proceedings. That would come later. The weather was not so fine as it had been. A thin veil of cloud covered the sky and the air felt damp and muggy. It looked as if it would rain before night. So much the better, thought Bruce, for a wet jacket was a small' price to pay for a distinct degree of added safety during his midnight enterprise.

As the taxi approached Mortimer Bruce began to forget his worries in the prospect of seeing Silvia again. It almost frightened him to realise how keen he was to meet her once more. When he reached the cottage gate he paid his driver, ordering him to come back in time to catch the 6.30 p.m. back to town. “It will help to work up an alibi in case anything goes wrong,” he said to himself as he walked up the path to the house. Silvia was waiting for him at the door. “How good of you to come so quickly, Mr. Carey,” was her greeting. “The goodness was yours in asking me,” replied Bruce, and simple as the words were, Silvia flushed a little as she led the way into the drawing room. “Here are the papers,” she said, pointing to a table piled with bundles of letters, each neatly done up with elastic bands and docketed in plain, clear, firm writing.

“It seems to me you have done all the work already,” said Bruce with a “You will not say that when you have looked through them,” replied Silvia. “I have not read half of them, myself.” The sat down and began. As a matter of fact there was not much of any real importance in the papers, and practically no useful reference to the magnet. Yet, Egerton’s letters served to give Bruce a far clearer idea than he had previously had of the brilliant brain of Silvia’s father—brilliant, that is, from the inventive point of view, yet unpractical from the point of view of business. What Bruce chiefly searched for was any’ reference to Lurgan, but there was none—nothing, at least, to clear up the mystery of how the man had got upon the track of Egerton’s invention. The time passed like magic, and Bruce could hardly believe his ears when the little silver clock on the chimney-piece chimed the hour of five, and Mrs. Morris came in with tea. At tea the two talked, yet both instinctively avoided the subject of Lurgan. Silvia spoke of her father, told little stories of him, and Bruce realised how devoted father and daughter had been one to the other, and was glad and grateful that Silvia was able to talk so freely to him. Her mother, Silvia told him, had died nearly fifteen years earlier, and she had no brothers or sisters. Her only near relative was an aunt who was married and living in Canada. Again time slipped by so swiftly that Bruce got a fresh shock when he saw the cab draw up at the gate. “And we haven’t half finished the papers,” said Silvia regretfully. “I am not sorry,” Bruce answered boldly. “It gives me an excuse to come again.” “You do not need any excuse, Mr. Carey,” said Silvia frankly. “I shall be glad to see you whenever you can spare time to come down.” She meant it —Bruce saw that she really meant it. “Be careful,” he said a little thickly. “You—you don’t know what you are saddling yourself with.” Silvia looked at him. “I am not afraid,” she said softly, as she gave him her hand. truce's heart was thumping. . It was all that he ‘could do to resist the temptation to catch her in his arms and tell her that his one desire in life was never to leave her again. But the

time was not yet. He had his job to do first, and, until that was brought to a successful conclusion, no right to say anythng definite to Silvia.. Yet in spite of what was before him during the coming night, Bruce went away treading on air. Never before had he felt so utterly exalted, so preposterously happy. CHAPTER XII.—A LONELY VIGIL. Bruce’s plan was to return to Reading Station, recover his bag, then instead of taking the train back to town, slip out on the opposite side of the station, get some food jin the town, then hire a bicycle and use that as a means of reaching Friars Bank. The country in that direction was well wooded, so he did not think there would be any difficulty in finding some sheltered spot where he could hide the bicycle and change his clothes. Everything went excellently, and the only change he made in his plans, was that instead of hiring a bicycle, and leaving a deposit, he bought a rusty, but still useful, second-hand machine for the sum of £3. This seemed an improvement on his original idea, for in this way he would be able to avoid returning to Reading. He could make for Wellington or Slough, or even cycle right back to London. Just as he had expected, it began to rain a thin, desolate sort of drizzle which brought down the dusk half an hour earlier than usual. Except for the fact that he had carefully mugged up the road froifi a half-inch scale Ordnance map he would certainly have lost his way. As it was, he managed to get through without being obliged to make inquiries, and a little before eight was on the top of a low. ridge, looking down from behind upon a house which he felt sure was Friars Bank. Although the twilight was thickening there was still light enough to get some idea of the place. “Lurgan’s got more taste than I gave him credit for,” said Bruce below his breath. “There’s nothing new or blatant about it. It’s old and it’s good.” He was right. Frairs Bank, so far as he could see, was of the date of Queen Anne or of George I. It was built of mellow red brick with beautiful old twisted chimneys, and the* building had been either very well kept or most carefully restored. (To be continued.)