THE BANNANTYNE SAPPHIRES

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 786, 5 October 1929, Page 26

THE BANNANTYNE SAPPHIRES

BY

FRANK HIED

CHAPTER XXXIII (Continued.) But, as he was to discover later, the position of the underground rooms was of supreme importance to both of them. / A careful search of the villa and the odds and ends of gardening tools in a corner of the open space under the terrace produced nothing even remotely resembling a screwdriver. Meredith suggested breaking off the point of one of the cooking knives they found in a drawer in the kitchen, rubbing the edge down on a stone, and trying to unscrew the boxes with this improvised tool. “It would -only be a waste of time,” said the more practical Patricia. “The knife would splinter on the first screw. No, the only thing we can do is to go into the town and buy a screwdriver.”

Meredith agreed, but here lay another disappointment. It was already growing late. If they went into the town and returned, it would be dark before they could finish opening the cases, and' they would have to use the torch to find their way back to the villa Maria and Santo might return at any time. If they chanced to see a light moving about in the grounds, close to the house and the secret hiding place, their suspicions would be aroused at once, and that had endless possibilities of awkwardness. Therefore they both agreed theie was nothing for it but to take the car back to its garage, buy a screwdriver, dine in Apaccio, and go to the secret rooms the next morning, when Maiia and Santo had gone into the town for the daily shopping. This plan they carried out, Meredith buying a small crowbar as well as two screwdrivers —this was Patricia s suggestion. They had tea, loitered about the town and the quays, and then went to dinner at the restauiant recommended by Santo. They found a table had been reserved for them under a wide awning stretching half across the pavement. “Monsieur Andrucci told me Monsieur and Madame would honour us this evening,” said the niaitre d hotel, “and at seven o'clock. Dinner is quite ready. And I was to tell Monsieur and Madame from Monsieur Andrucci that he hears the cinema is excellent this week, in case they would like to go there after dinner.” “Santo seems very anxious about our dinner and our evening" Meredith said after the waiter had gone, “just as if he did not want us to be at the villa.” . The dinner was excellent. A delicious trout had been served when Patricia said: “Don’t look for a moment. Santo is on the other side of the Place, watching us!” Pretending to read the menu, Meredith looked across the Place. “To the right of the second palm tree,” Patricia explained, her eyes fixed on her plate.

Meredith saw Santo standing close beside a palm tree on the farther side of the Place, in the middle of a throng of people walking up and down, looking in the direction of the restaurant. He put down the menu, and Patricia, who could see Santo without having to turn her head, whispered a few moments afterward:

“Guy! Guy! An Englishman has just come up and spoken to Santo, and they’ve gone away together. It’s Bartwell ! ”

What was Bartwell doing in Ajaccio, this footman whom Maxwell and Julia AVryce placed so skilfully as a spy in the houses they intended to rob — this man who helped Julia Wryce to steal Alice Bannantyne’s necklace from the false bookcase at Brentland? What could it mean? Had Maxwell Wryce sent him to collect the jewels hidden at the villa, instead of coming himself ? Had Santo invented the story of visiting his relations in the town, so that he might meet Bartwell? And if so, why?

Question followed conjecture and conjecture followed question as Patricia and Meredith sat discussing the man’s startling appearance. Meredith summed them all up with: “It’s mighty uncomfortable, and I’m convinced Santo wanted us to be out of the villa tonight. He forced us to dine here by the story of his relations, and I'm certain the message to the waiter about the cinema was simply to keep us away from the house as long as possible. We’ll go back at once.” They found everything at the villa as they had left it. Meredith brought a small lamp from the saloon and put it on the table on the terrace. “If we sit out here,” he said, “we are bound to see Maria and Santo come back. There’s no other way for them to get in.” An intense stillness hung over the garden, and the stars glittered from what seemed a vast canopy of dark blue velvet. They could have heard the least sound. But one hour became two, and still no sign of Maria and Santo. Patricia, tired by the excitement of the day, could scarcely keep awake. Meredith’s yawns became more and more frequent. At length Patricia’s head sank forward. She was fast asleep. “Let’s go to bed,” Meredith said, gently shaking her by the shoulder. “Those two will have to knock us up when they come back.”

They went to bed, Meredith locking the French window leading from the saloon to the terrace, and the front door. They both fell fast asleep, and knew nothing until they were awakened the next morning by Maria throwing open the jalousies of their bedroom window.

Meredith was so surprised that he sat bolt-upright. “How on earth—?” he began, when a warning squeeze on his arm from Patricia stopped him. CHAPTER XXXIV “Did you have a pleasant time with your friends, Maria?” Patricia asked quickly. “Yes, indeed, Madame, and we stayed talking so late that Monsieur and Madame were already in bed when we returned,” the woman answered. “Would Monsieur and Madame excuse us again? We must go to the town this morning to see our relations off at the railway station. I will put the petit dejeuner on the terrace before I go, if you would not miud having it so much earlier than usual. But I shall be back in

time to cook tlie luncheon. AVhat would Madame like?”

Meredith glanced at his wrist-watch. Maria had called them an hour earlier than usual, and while Patricia and Maria discussed the luncheon he reflected that whether the relatives existed or not this early departure of the woman and Santo to the town gave him and Patricia at least an hour longer for their search among the wooden cases.

Each morning since they had been at the villa Patricia and Meredith had gone down to the terrace in their dressing-gowns for their coffee and rolls; but now, to gain even more time for their search, they dressed.

Meredith had just finished shaving when Maria’s voice under the window called out:

“All is ready, Madame. We are going now!”

He looked out. She was standing on the terrace dressed exactly as she had been the day before, but carrying two bags ■which she always took on her daily shoppings—one of string, the other of black American cloth. Santo was waiting for her at the bottom of the terrace steps. Meredith noticed that he had a batteredlooking despatch-case in his hand. The table was in its usual place in the corner of the terrace, close to the end window of the salon, the only spot of shade at the time they took tlieir petit dejeuner. But today, as they were an hour earlier, the sun was shining ruthlessly from one end of the terrace to the other.

“This is insupportable,” Meredith said after they bad taken their places. “We shall be grilled alive. Let’s move the table into the salon.” “But that’s so stuffy with all the jalousies closed. Why not down in the loggia?” Patricia suggested.

The loggia was underneath the terrace, a cool and pleasant place even in the hottest part of the day, but they had always preferred to sit on the terrace because of the view of the sea and the opposite coast. Looking through any of the three arches of the loggia which supported the terrace you only saw the upper part of the garden. There was a table ii? the loggia, and to this Meredith transferred the coffee and rolls, pushing it close to the back wall out of the sun, which streamed across the sanded floor through the archways. This back wall was painted with a yellow and brown fresco, in a design of large Maltese crosses reaching from the floor to the roof.

It was cool and pleasant here, away from the hot sun, and at any other time both ■would have sat on, but every moment Maria and Santo were out of the house was precious.

“Don’t bother to come back to the house,” Meredith said, after he had swallowed his second cup of coffee. “I’ll run up and get the screw-drivers and the crowbar, and we’ll start at once.”

As she sat waiting for Meredith’s return, looking casually at the yellow and brown wall, Patricia wondered why Maxwell and Julia Wryce, whose taste was impeccable, should have had the wall painted, and since it had been done, why they should have chosen hideous colouring and the equally hideous design. The Maltese crosses were certainly well-painted, and from a distance looked as if they were deeply cut in the wall. This effect, she saw, examining one of the arms of a cross on a level with her head, ■was gained by the clever use of shading in yellow paint—the points of the crosses were all in brown. But this shading was absent in the arms of the crosses higher up; there the paint ■was bright yellow, but not on every arm.

As she glanced along the line of crosses close to the roof Patricia saw' the yellow paint only on the sides of the left-hand arms. That was odd, she thought, and looked in the opposite direction. Here, she saw the yellow paint only od. the sides of the right-hand arms. She stood up and examined the upper crosses more closely. They were painted in exacts the same way as the crosses below, "with the same light and shading on the sides of the arms.

She was puzzled, and as she went through the centre archway to join Meredith, whom she heard running down the terrace steps, looked back. The sun Avas streaming through all three archway's, its light stretching nearly half across tlie yellow sanded floor of the loggia. “Of course,” she said to herself, “it’s the reflection from the floor.”

When they came out from the garden gate the white, dusty road by the shore, to right and to left, was empty, and as they climbed the steep track to the arbutus bush not even a goat was visible. “I wonder if we shall find Alice’s necklace?” Patricia whispered as Meredith put the key in the lock of tlie painted door. “If it’s here I’m sure we shall. Only I hope we shan’t have to open all those cases.”

As he spoke Meredith touched the switch outside the swing door, and pushed the door open. But as he turned the handle of the second door and opened it, they both uttered an exclamation of surprise. The room was brightly lighted.

Besides the lamp hanging from the centre of the ceiling the three candle-lamps on the bench were lighted, one in the centre and one at either end. And three of the rushbottomed chairs were close to the bench, one in front of each greenshaded lamp. As Patricia and Meredith, utterly amazed, stood just within the doorway they saw that each lamp shone upon a pile of jewels. Before each chair was a large square of wash-leather. On the right of each square was a small heap of tiaras, hair ornaments, brooches, bracelets and necklaces; on the left of each square was a cardboard box half-filled with broken and twisted settings; and in front of each square was an indiarubber tray, such as photographers use in developing negatives, half-filled with glittering stones. Between each square of wash-leather small tools—delicate pliers, microscopic hammers and chisels —were scattered upon the bench with small bottles of variously coloured liquids. Beside each square stood a fairly large bottle of yellow oil.

Neither Patricia nor Meredith spoke. This sudden discovery de-

prived them of all sensation except j wonder. Suddenly Patricia pointed to the lamp at the end of the bench j nearest the door. Beneath it was Mrs. Bannantyne’s | necklace, the two rows of sapphires joined by the network of diamonds, and the five great pendant pearshaped stones, lying spread out over several strings of pearls. Patricia thought that even on Alice Bannantyne’s white skin the sapphires had never shone so brilliantly; had never been so liquidly blue. “We’re just in time,” Meredith whispered. “They’re beginning to break the things up.” He stepped up to the bench, his hand sretched out to take the necklace, when a muffled exclamation came from the opening in tlie wall leading to the inner room. Meredith and Patricia turned quickly. A man stood in the opening. He remained for an instant, looking at them, his face in the shadow. Then he came forward into the light. It was Maxwell Wryce.

The meeting was so utterly uuexpected that all three were silent Wryce was the first to speak. “What are you doing here?”

As he spoke he came directly under the light. Patricia, involuntarily, put her hand on Meredith s arm. This was a Maxwell Wryce she had never seen before. The laughing blue eyes were hard and glittering, the smiling mouth was set in a straight, cruel line, the florid cheeks were sickly white. The man’s whole aspect set thrills of fear tingling through her veins. But if there was menace in his eyes, fear was sharp and dominant in his voice. “We came for this,” Meredith answered, picking up the sapphires. "Alice Bannantyne’s necklace, which your sister and Bartwell stole at Brentland.” CHAPTER XXXV. Wryce squared his shoulders as if he had just received a blow in the face. He leant heavily against the bench, staring at Meredith, so amazed and thrown off his guard that he could only mutter: —"My God, how did you know that?” “I heard her tell you at Brentland, that night she came to your room when she was so rattled about Grelkin.” Wryce’s face grew even paler. He put his hand to his throat, iiulling at his collar. “So you were spying upon us?” he said, his eyes narrowing. “No. By the merest chance I heard voices in the fireplace of my bedroom. The sound came down the chimney. When I found out what you and Julia were talking about, I listened.” “Then you know everything?” Wryce broke in wildly, as he realised what Meredith’s knowledge must be. “Yes, I know everything,” Meredith replied, his face and voice eloquent with the contempt he felt for this man who had made friends with people only to rob them. “You and your sister have been living a life of humbug and thieving for years, deceiving the Bannantynes, us-—everybody.” Little beads of perspiration broke out on Wryce’s forehead, but he regained his self-control, and said quickly :—“You knew this? Yet you asked me to lend you the villa. Was not that odd, in the circumstances?” Meredith detected sarcasm in the question. “Not at all,” he replied, hotly. "Everything is fair against criminals. Z wanted to —”

He stopped on the verge of giving the actual reason of their visit to the villa —the warning of Grelkin whenever Wryce himself came there. He must give no hint, he reflected, that Grelkin would be watching the brother and sister’s future movements. So, after a momentary pause, he added:—

“We wanted to get back Alice’s necklace. And we are just in time,” he added, looking along the bench at the trays half-filled with loose stones and broken settings. “You seem to have broken up most of your swag. I wonder how many robberies all this represents?”

Wryce stood upright, asking quietly. —“Does Baunantyne know what you know?” “No, he does not. But he will when we return to England.” “Does anybody else know besides you two?” Wryce’s voice was still quiet. “That is my affair,” replied Meredith. "How did you get in here?” “That, too, is my affair. I can't do anything to stop you selling these jewels,” Meredith continued, “but you are not going to have this.” He picked up Mrs. Bannantyne’s necklace and began to roll it round and round, preparatory to putting it in his pocket. “Put that down!” Meredith, still rolling up the necklace, took no notice.

“Put it down. If you don’t, I’ll make you! ” Now Wryce’s voice, still quiet and restrained, was menacing. Meredith shrugged his shoulders. He knew that, for all his inches, AVryce was in no sort of condition, and hadn’t been for years. He even got puffed after a round of golf. “You!” Meredith said contemptuously, "you couldn’t!"

-> “Here, both of you—there’s danger!” AVryce called out in Spanish. There was a sound of hurrying footsteps from the inner room, and Leofalda came through the opening in the wall, followed by Bartwell. Directly they saw Patricia and Meredith, both men stopped dead behind Wryce, Leofalda’s protuberant eyes starting from their sockets, Bartwell with wide-open mouth.

AVryce said something in Spanish to Leofaida, but so quickly that Meredith could not follow it. “Put that down!”

Again Patricia felt a thrill of fear. Wryce’s voice was brutal. A patch of crimson had come upon either cheekbone; the eyes and mouth -were desperate.

“Oh, no,” said Meredith, his hand moving toward his coat pocket. “I’m going to take this hack to Alice Bannautyne.

At a sign from Wryce, Leofaida stepped forward. The next instant Meredith’s right wrist was in a grasp of steel. His arm was jerked upward and outward, and the sapphire necklace shot into the air, falling on top of the string of pearls from which he had taken it.

Meredith tried to wrench his wrist free, but Leofaida, with a sharp move-

ment, brought it down to his side and held it there. The young man, exerting all his strength, tried to raise his arm, but Leofalda’s plump fingers, with their shining, highly-manicured nails, might have been so many circles of iron pressing into the bone. The Mexican’s face, close to his own, was as impassive as when he came to Meredith's London office to discuss the buying of the Sangolanto mine, and as then there was the cloying smell of some perfume. To be held helpless by this flabbylooking, scented adventurer maddened Meredith. Clenching his left fist he struck at' the impassive face. But he had scarcely raised his arm when he uttered a cry. AA'ith a deft movement Leofaida had twisted the young man’s right arm behind his back. The pain was excruciating.

“If you move, Mr. Meredith, I will break your arm,” said Leofaida, as civilly as if he had been asking bis victim to have a cup of tea. Meredith knew he was helpless. The grasp on his wrist, the sudden twisting of his arm, told him he was in the hands of a ju-jitsu expert. The next few minutes were the most agonising in Meredith’s life. Any possibility of physical danger to Patricia or himself in their search for Mrs. Bannantyne's necklace had never occurred to him. Now they were in the power of three absolutely desperate men, and as he listened to the rapid conversation in Spanish which ensued between AVryce and Lea falda he grew sick with apprehension. He looked at Patricia. She was standing against the wall, very white, her dark blue eyes, dilated with fear, fixed on AVryce and the Mexican. “Thank God!” Meredith thought. “She doesn’t understand what they’re saying.” Instinct told Meredith he must give no sign that he himself understood Spanish—perhaps this was their only chance. “Bartwell and I thought you were talking, to Santo,” Leofaida began. “How did these people get in here?” "I don’t know,” replied AVryce. “Santo will have to explain that. It must be his fault. The question is, what are we going to do with them? If they leave this place we’re absolutely finished in England.” Rapidly, AVryce explained how Meredith had overheard his conversation at Brentland between his sister and himself, and the reason why they had asked for the villa. He ended by saying: “They know everything. Directly they get back to England, Baunantyne will knew; everybody in the City will know. It’s utter smash and ruin! ” “How is that possible?” For once Leofalda’s impassiveness was broken. He threw up both his hands in amazement. But Meredith’s arm was so numbed and cramped that before he could move it the steel-like grasp was again upon his wrist. “They must not return to England,” Leofaida cried. “I, Manuele Leofaida, say they shall not return! ” . AVryce did not answer. “We must do something, quickly, quickly!” Leofaida went on. “I cannot stand holding this man all day. We must tie him up.” “AVe’ve nothing to tie him up with,” Wryce said, “except string. That’s no good.” “Then it’s the other." Leofaida deftly changed his hands upon Meredith’s wrist. His right hands moved to his hip pocket. “I will take him into the other room.” he said, slowly. “Then the woman will not see, "Oh, my God! Mr. Wryce, sir! Not that! We’ve never done that before! Not murder!” Bartwell was on to Wryce’s arm, his face white and convulsed, babbling out his words in English. It was only when Bartwell cried out "Not murder!” that Patricia realised the horrible significance of the movement of Leofalda’s hand to his hip pocket. As he drew it out, a small revolver glittered in the light. Patricia darted forward and with all her force struck Leofaida on the hand. The revolver fell clattering to the floor. But before she could move, Wryce put his foot on it. “Bartwell’s right,” he said to Leofaida, “I’ve thought of a better way.” Patricia was standing close to Meredith swaying slightly, her breath coming in hurried gasps. He was afraid she was going to faint and put his free arm around her. “Go back to where you were before,” Wryce ordered. CHAPTER XXXV.

“I shall stay here where I am,” Patricia replied defiantly. “If you don’t go where AVryce tells you I shall break your husband’s arm,” Leofaida said, raising Meredith's wrist slightly as he spoke. “He’s doing it, the brute!” Meredith muttered, his face contorted with pain. This was intolerable. Patricia crossed to the wall and sank down on the rush-bottomed chair standing against it, covering her eyes with her hands.

“You move from there at your peril!” AVryce said to her, and then in Spanish to Bartwell:

“Go into the villa and get a couple of sheets from one of the beds.” Meredith expected to see the man pass them, and go through the passage to the painted door, but he went out through the opening in the wall to the inner room.

In the brief interval before his return, from the rapid conversation between AVryce and Leofaida, Meredith learnt what was to befall Patricia and himself. They were to be tied up with the sheets and left in this underground place when the three men went away with the jewels. A chill of horror came over him. Better Leofalda’s pistol than this. I£ only he could get his arm free he could at least make a fight for It. Involuntarily he made a movement. Instantly Leofalda’s pressure on his wrist was redoubled, and again his arm was slightly raised, and he felt the sickening pain. AA hen Bartwell returned with the sheets he and AA’ryce began to tear them into strips, Leofaida calling to them to hurry because he was tired of holding Meredith.

h ?“ , the , sheets were torn up Leofalda took charge of the binding opera-

Se “ tly hulling Meredith’s right wrist outward, he forced the : un . s . ma n to kneel down. Then seizhif bark 6 * 1 Wr ' St ’ he drew st behind wrist AVI,u rOS r Slng u OTer bis right writ's ~, Leofaida held the two , a f as P w bich Meredith .trusted -vainly to shake off. Wrvce and or StriP SheGt round a °d end- and ° ver them ’ knotting the falda sffd 1D a “ d again ' N ext. Leoiaida said, a strjp must be wound round Meredith’s body, j us t above the

elbows, fastening his arms down to his sides in case he got his hands free. This was done. “Now another round his aukles, so that he can't kick. And see." said Leofalda, pushing Meredith over on his side, “if we fasten bis ankles to the leg of the bench he can't move."

Taking a strip of sheet from Bartwell Leofalda slipped it under the strip already knotted round Meredith's ankles and tied it securely to the leg of the bench. He lay facing the wall, and could not see what was happening to Patricia, but he realised from her protestations and Wryce's angry orders directing her to keep still if she didn’t want to be hurt, that they were tying her to the chair. He could not turn his head sufficiently round to

But one thing he could see, and that was the end of Mrs. Bannantyue's necklace hanging just over the edge of the bench, and exactly above him. When Leofalda had jerked it out of hand it had partially unrolled and fallen across the strings of pearls. He could see the light through the big sapphire which was part of the clasp. “Now we are safe,’* he heard Leofalda say. “Neither of them can stir. Have we got everything out of the boxes?" “Yes," said Wryce, “everything is here except what Santo is bringing from Ajaccio. He ought to be here soon. Bartwell, finish those." He pointed to the jewels besides the square of wash-leather at the farther end of the table. Bartwell drew' up one of the rushbottomed chairs and, sitting down, began to break the settings and take the stones from a magnificent diamond bracelet. From where she sat, her feet tied to the legs of her chair, and her arms bound to her side by a wide strip of sheeting which went two or three times round the chair back, Patricia could see Bartwell -working. He was deft and skilful in the use of the delicate tools, but she saw that the unsetting of each stone was a slow' process. Leofalda had sat dow r n before the centre square of wash-leather, but his back was tow’ard her, and she could not see what be w'as doing. Wryce had gone into the inner room. He came back with two suitcases. These he placed on the floor between Meredith aud Patricia’s chair. He opened one. It was full of clothes. Taking hold of either side he pulled out what appeared to be the inside of the case. This, packed full of clothes, he put on one side. Then Patricia saw T that the case had a false bottom. It was divided into squares by lines of black tape fixed across white velvet, and in each square of velvet were rows of little holes. Patricia soon discovered their object. (To be continue# on Monday.)