The Gold Magnet

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 27, 23 April 1927, Page 16

The Gold Magnet

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T.C.Bridges,

) Author of '* The Whip Hand** Price of Liberty” “ The Home Her Father*,” &c., &c.

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS CHAPTERS L to 111. a reroclous fare, pressed against the window of a train, frightens a mysterious passenger, Stuart Eger ton, and just afterwards the train is wrecked. Bruce Carey gets Egerton out of the wreck, but the man is dying. He gets Bruce to promise that he will deliver a bag which contains an invention to his daughter, Silvia. James Lurgan, 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. to Vlll—Having no alternative, Bruce hands over the bag. After the interruption the two men reach Silvia’s home. When Bruce tells her of the robbery of the invention she says it is useless without the directions, which are in her possession. When Bruce is returning from a visit to Silvia Lurgan steps out of a wood. He proposes a half share in the new Gold Recovery Syndicate. Bruce tells him that he would sooner go into partnership with the devil. CHAPTERS IX. to XIIL—A strategic step is made by Claude, who cultivates the" friendship of Duggan, one of Lurgan'e henchnen. Bruce sets out to make the raid on Lurgan’s place single-handed. He forces iron bars apart and gets Egerton's bag from the strong room. The burglary is discovered and Bruce is pursued and shot at. He trips on an obstacle and becomes unconscious. CHAPTERS XIV. to XX.—Bruce wakes up to find himself trapped, hurgan renews his offer of a partnership and Bruce refuses though he is threatened with imprisonment not only for burglary but for manslaughter, our hero having knocked down and killed a man who tried to stop him from escaping. At the inquest the jury brings in a verdict of murder. Silvia is in her bed when Lurgan calls. He says that the only chance of saving Bruce is to form a partnership of the three of them Though Silvia feels the hypnotic power of Lurgan she refuses his offer. CHAPTER XXI. to XXIV.: Bruce comes up for trial. Lurgan gives his damning evidence. Bruce’s barrister tells the whole story of the magnet. The weak points in the defence are attacked and the jury brings in a verdict of guilty and Bruce is sentenced to seven years’ penal servitude. Silvia bears up bravely and all Bruce’s friends decide to do their utmost to get him released. If they could find the man who stole the bag thev realise that he would be a great help. CHAPTERS XXV. to XXIX: The conference of Lurgan, Orme, Grane and stroud has just decided that Silvia will have to be held in order that they may get the papers, when the others discover that Stroud is a fake. With the aid of a smoke-bomb, the masquerader —Colt—gets away. Silvia visits Bruce in prison and the engagement is celebrated jvhile the warder turns his back. Lurgan renews his offer of assistance. Silvia's refusal wins her the villain’s admiration. Afterwards she suggests that if he should find the witnesses of the robbery of the handbag, an

arrangement might be come to. Lurgan says this is impossible. CHAPTERS XXX. to XXXIII.—WhiIe motoring to Dartmoor, Silvia and Claude help to save the life of Jack Trant, a warder at the gaol, who had fallen into a torrent. Lurgan again turns up and offers to arrange Bruce’s escape for a half share in the profits of the invention. Silvia consents and on the morning chosen for the escape, Colt arrives back from New York. Silvia and Colt watch the attempt. CHAPTER XXXIV.—A LAG AND A LADY. There was no explosion, but from a dozen places in the long belt of gorse smoke leaped up. There followed a crisp crackle of flame and almost instantly the whole gorse was blazing furiously. “Gee, but' Lurgan’s done the job properly,” muttered Randolph. “And, by gum, the wind is sending the smoke right down across the field.” Even in the finest weather there is always a breeez on these heights, and a westerly draught carried the smoke in a great rolling cloud down towards the line of men working in the ditch. Whistles began to shrill, the warders were calling their charges together. “They must realise that something is wrong,” said Silvia in Randolph’s ear. “I bet they do, but that don’t make any difference. Watch out now for the big car.” “But the smoke—the smoke. I can’t see anything,” said Silvia, in a shaking voice. She had gone very white and was trembling. “I can see it all right,” Randolph told her. “What’s more, there’s a fellow running through the smoke towards the road. I’ll bet it’s Bruce.” “Stop, or I’ll shoot,” came a loud shout, and after a momen’t pause a carbine cracked. "Oh, they have shot him,” wailed Silvia. “Not by a jugful, they haven’t,” snapped Randolph. “There he is in the car. Watch, she’s off.” Through the eddying drifts of stinging smoke came the deep boom of a powerful engine, and next instant Silvia and Randolph saw the big car shoot out of the smother and, gaining speed with every yard, go roaring down the hill in the direction of Tavistock. A man galloped furiously down the field parallel with the big car. It was Parton. But his pony was utterly outdistanced, and long before he reached the gate at the end of the field the car was past it and away. “Is he safe —are you sure he is safe?” demanded Silvia of Randolph. “See for yourself,” said Randolph cheerily. “Gosh, but that car’s doing fifty already.” He looked round. “Great Christopher, but there’s a mixup in that field. Listen to them shouting. Say, Silvia, we’d better get out of this. We don’t want warders asking questions.” He switched on the engine and moved slowly off the grass on to the road. The smoke was so thick that the stone walls on either side were hidden. The car was barely

in the road before a man flung himself over the right-hand wall and dashed towards them. “Oh!” gasped Silvia. “Oh, it’s Bruce.” It was Randolph who acted. “Get in,” he snapped. “Here, in front. Lie right down and pull this rug over you.” Bruce was in like a flash and was quickly hidden. Not more than ten seconds elapsed from the time that Silvia first saw him until the car was slipping away down the steep slope heading for Two Bridges. The smoke, drifting before the south-westerly wind, covered the whole road for at least a couple of hundred yards, and aided by the slope, Randolph was able to drive quite silently. Yet he had presence of mind enough not to put on speed but to keep at a moderate twenty miles an hour. Silvia sat perfectly still, but now she was steady again. “The other car must have picked up another man,” she said, quietly. “Sure thing,” said Randolph. “Say, how far is it to that bridge at Two Bridges?” “Just two 'miles.” “Not more. Then I guess we are all right. They are all chasing away down the Tavistock Road and if we can cross the bridge before any of the mounted men go that way we’ll have no cause to worry. Watch out behind, Silvia, and tell me if you see anyone following. I dare not go fast for fear of making anyone who happens to bq watching suspect us.” Nothing more was said until they had crossed the next rise and were coasting down the long, crooked hill* toward Two Bridges. As they turned out of the triangle road into the main Princetown-Exeter Road they were able to at last see the bridge. “There’s a man there,” panted Silvia. “I see him,” replied Randolph calmly. “But he’s no warder. See, he’s carrying a fishing rod.” Still keeping to the same steady pace they reached the bridge. The man with the fishing rod waved to them. “I say,” he said, excitedly, "what’s happening up at the prison? The bell's ringing like blazes.” Randolph slowed up but did not stop. “A lag’s escaped,” he said. ‘Someone’s picked him up in a car and gone off down the Tavistock Road. There’s- hell popping up there.” He accelerated as he spoke, shot past the hotel and rushed the steep bit beyond on top gear. Another minute and they were on the Powder Mills Road with not a single vehicle in sight. “I reckon we are past the worst of it,”

said Randolph in his familiar drawl. “For which all thanks to you and Silvia,” came Bruce’s voice from under the rug. “Silvia was right, those fools picked up the wrong man and I’d have been properly in the soup if I hadn’t found you. But what’s to be done? Lurgan had some place fixed up for me, but there’s no getting there now, I suppose.” “Sit tight,” replied Randolph, easily. “Silvia has a place for you all right.” He turned to Silvia. “Wefe got to put the car away. Is it safe to take Bruce to Powder Mills?” “We shall have to. I can absolutely trust the Trants, but all the same it would not be fair to take Bruce into the farm for every house within miles will be visited before night. We will drop him at the brook and he must crawl up the bed of it until he reaches the wood behind the farm. He can wait there until we join him.” “You have sure got a plan to fit everything,” said Randolph admiringly. “Tell me where to stop.” They turned into the cart track and Silvia pointed to the rough wooden bridge spanning the brook. Randolph stopped and looked round carefully. “0.K.,” he said. “Slip out easy, Bruce, and when you get into the brook go right up stream till you reach the wood. We’ll be there before you.” Silvia had a bad five minutes while Randolph . put up the car and she fetched a few necessaries from the house. She was desperately afraid lest some wandering Moorman might spot Bruce, in which case he would, of course, go after him in order to claim the five pound reward given for the arrest of an escaped prisoner. Mrs. Trant was in the kitchen. “My friend, Mr. Colt, has arrived unexpectedly,” Silvia told her. “He and I are going for a walk across the Moor. Don’t trouble about lunch for we are taking cake and chocolate.” “Have you got some grub?” was Randolph’s question as Silvia joined him outside. “Yes, and a coat and cap for Bruce. That’s all I could manage to bring, but there is a complete change up at Brim Tor.” “Fine!” said Randolph. “And I’ve got a flask. I guess we shall need it, for it’s almighty hot to-day.” As he spoke, they were walking quickly up toward the wood. Silvia was almost running, but Randolph checked her. “Not a thing in sight but ponies,” he told her, “and they ain’t looking.” Bruce was waiting in the wood, and muddy and wet as he was, Silvia

fairly threw herself in his arms. “My dear, my dear,” she cried, “to think that you are free at last.” “Guess the freedom won’t last very long, eh, Bruce,” said Randolph, with a twinkle in his eyes. “What do you mean, you old ruffian?” demanded Bruce,- as he took Randolph’s hand. “Why—that you’ll be prisoner to Silvia instead of to the British Government,” grinned Randolph. “A mightily long sentence —and no remission for good conduct. But stick on this coat and cap, then you are going to have a chunk of cake, a drink from my flask, and one cigarette. After that we’ve got to hike.” “Walk, he means,” said Bruce, munching chocolate. “Some day we’ll teach him to speak English.” The reaction from the fearful strain of the previous hour made them almost merry, and when they started out again the need for intense watchfulness kept them silent and serious. “There’s not really much risk,” Silvia said, “for at a. little distance Bruce looks just like anybody else.” “And warders won’t be looking for a lag escorted by a lady,” replied Bruce smiling. He was smoking his cigarette to the bitter end, and it almost hurt Silvia to see how intensely he enjoyed it. An hour later, and they were over the hills in the heart of the great Moor, miles from the nearest road or house. CHAPTER XXXV. —UNDER FIRE The heat was intense, and they rested for a little under the shade of a great pile of boulders. “Looks to me like there’ll be a storm,” said Randolph. “How much further is this here Brim Tor place, Miss Silvia?” “Not very far. Shall we push on before the storm comes?” Randolph nodded, and they went on. But the clouds gathered rapidly, and presently a deep rumbling of thunder came muttering across the lonely land. “Guess we’re in for a wetting,” said Randolph briefly. But none of them expected such fury of tempest as presently broke upon them. The rain fell in solid sheets, and through it flashed lightning, yellow, white and blue in blinding chains and forks. The worst of it was that they were in the open, with no shelter near, and there was nothing to do but plod steadily onwards. “This is rotten for you Silvia,” said Bruce unhappily. “My dear, as if I minded.” replied Silvia. “All the same, I wish that it would stop, for I can’t see my way a bit.”

But it was an hour before at last the clouds broke and the watery gleam of sunshine lighted the soaking Moor and its three dripping inhabitants. Silvia stopped and gazed round, and Randolph noticed a puzzled look in her eyes. “Guess we’re a bit off the track,” he suggested. “I —I am afraid we are,” said Silvia. She turned to Bruce. “Oh, Bruce,” she exclaimed miserably. “I have lost my way.” “Small blame to you, in that storm,” replied Bruce, stoutly. “But you don’t understand,” said Silvia. “If I can’t find the cave, what are we to do? Your clothes, food and everything are there.” Randolph cut in. “I don’t reckon we can be a long way off the place,” he said. “Take a good look round, Miss Silvia, and see if you can’t get your bearings.” Silvia obeyed. At last she pointed to a hill. “That looks to me like Brim Tor,” she said doubtfully. “Then we’ll just shove along and look it over,” said Randolph. “The ground here is dreadfully open,” said Silvia, unhappily. “We could be seen from a long way off.” “There’s no one to see us,” replied Bruce. “That storm must have choked off any tourists.” “I’m not afraid of tourists,” said Silvia. “It’s the warders I am thinking of.” “I guess they are still chasing the other car,” said Randolph, but Silvia shook her head. “They will have found out their mistake by now, and be searching the Moor. Oh, I wish I knew which was Brim Tor.” *‘We will find it all right,” said Bruce confidently, and started forward. As Silvia had said, they were very much in the open. They were crossing a high tableland with patches of bad bog which they had to carefully avoid. The ground was covered with bents and coarse heather that made walking very difficult. Here and there were curious pits in the peaty soil. They were large and circular and most of tnem full of water from the recent storm. Silvia was very anxious and Randolph, though he pretended cheerfulness, shared her anxiety. Suddenly Silvia spoke. “Don’t look round. There are two men on the high ground to the west of us, and I am nearly sure they are following us.” “Are they warders?” questioned Bruce. “I do not think so, for one is in light clothes.” “Then they are not warders,’ said Bruce.

“But they are following us,” replied Silvia. “They sure are following us.” said Randolph presently. “Say, I believe they are Lurgan’s men.” “That’s just about the size of it,” said Bruce. “Those chaps must have been scared stiff when they found how they had blundered, and now they are trying to make up by finding out where I went.” (To be Continued.)