THE BANNANTYNE SAPPHIRES

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 788, 8 October 1929, Page 5

THE BANNANTYNE SAPPHIRES

BY

FRANK HIRD

CHAPTER XXXVIII (Continued) “Perhaps they might not,” Santo answered, ‘‘because there i 3 only one key besides that of Monsieur Wryce. That key was mine, and these people have used it. But although the police biay not find these rooms, of a surety they will know they are here, and they wait and wait, watching. If Monsieur Wryce had not decided to go, in bones I believe you all three would have been shut up here for many days, unable to get out. And perhaps you "ould all have starved, if the police suspected me and Maria and took us away.’*

“I never thought of all that.” Bartwell gathered up the remaining Jewels in Santo’s attache case hurriedly and threw them into the tin. “h makes me feel sick,” he said. “In a U these years we’ve never been in a niess. ,f

.Ke leant across the bench and Puked up the strings of pearls lying a nove Meredith's head. ,‘And never a word of the police, ‘he quicker we’re out of this the better*’ s he added as be doubled the strings of pearls in two and crammed into the tin. His hands were trembling. Obviously he was afraid. That's everything, isn’t it?” he a sked Santo, taking up the lid of the

Monsieur Wryce, said all that * as left on the bench.” bartwell moved the pearls, looking in~ ri ? eath them. Patricia, watch,nS his every movement, held her Had he remembered the necklace? With intense reshe saw he was arranging the *Wf>ii ery underneath the pearls, so at they should lie level, when Wryce and Leofalda returned e biscuit box was neatly tied up in Japer*

, Bartwell explained that they could find nothing except the biscuit box. I “Have you put all the stuff I told i you to in it?” Wryce asked. “Yes,” replied Bartwell. “I’ve put in everything that was left on the bench. What are we going to do,

"You, Bartwell, will go hack to the inn in the town, and stay there until this evening. Then you will take the train to Bastia and cross to Leghorn. Stay there two days, and then come to Paris. Mr. Leofalda and I will motor to lie Rousse, and take the boat there to Nice, and be in Paris a day before you. There must be nothing to show the police here that we three have been together. There’ll be a clear week In Paris to get rid of ail this stuff before we go to Cherbourg to catch the boat for America Now, vou’d better get back into the town. You know the way Santo brought you.”

Wryce went out with Bartwell. When he came back Leofalda asked him: — , ... "What are you going to do with these people?” "Leave them where they are! They can tell no tales then,” Wryce said. “You swine!” Meredith shouted from the floor.

“You've only yourselves to blame, Wryce replied, picking up the attache case and the bfceuit box “And X, Monsieur? What shall I

do? Am I to face any trouble alone?” Santo stood in front of Wryce with outstretched hands. “There can be no trouble,” Wryce replied quickly. “But” —he looked down at Meredith, and then across at Patricia —“it would be better, perhaps, if you and Maria took a fortnight’s holiday. If the villa is closed there will he no one to answer awkward questions, and in a fortnight—” He shrugged his shoulders, looking from Patricia to Meredith. “In a fortnight—well, you understand?”

Santo’s tanned and weather-beaten cheeks took a yellowish tinge. “Yes, Monsieur, I understand!” he said in a low voice. “Monsieur is right. It is the only way for safety.” “I will send you the other instructions from Paris,” Wryce said. "Now we must go. We can rely absolutely on the chauffeur?” he added.

Santo took the attache case from Wryce, saying, as he moved to the d oor:

“Absolutely, Monsieur; he Is my cousin. He has been waiting in the wood all the morning. I will come and help you with the cases.” He went into the narrow passage. Wryce followed, taking no notice of Meredith and Patricia. But as Leofalda came after him he stooped over Meredith, and said, with honeyed politeness: “You will remember, Mr. Meredith, that on one occasion I told you it was a mistake in business to give people time to think!” Meredith turned his head as far as he could and looked up at the mocking olive face bending over him. He could feel the necklace pressing against his chest. “Yes, Mr. Leofalda,” he replied with equal politeness. “You are right. It is a mistake to give people time to think—in business! ” CHAPTER XXXIX. There was the sound of the swing door closing. Then there was silence. But only for a few moments. A sound of returning footsteps was followed by the crashing of big bolts being shot into their sockets. “Do you think Santo will come hack?” Patricia asked. “No, the brutes mean to leave us j here to starve to death,” replied Mere- j

dith. “That’s why Santo and Maria are to go away for a fortnight and leave the villa empty.” Patricia shuddered. “Guy, do you think we can get out of this place?” “I’m goiDg to have a jolly good try, at any rate. If only I could get these beastly knots undone!” Meredith had freed his right hand and was tugging at the knots on his left wrist. Patricia uttered a little cry. She had moved her legs and was certain that the bands fastening them to the chair were not so tight as they had seemed to be. “Guy, I believe I’ve loosened ! them,” she cried. “Look!” | She shuffled the chair toward him. | Each time she pulled at the seat she j felt both chair-legs slip slightly upI wards. ! Meredith sat up and twisted his ! right hand in front of him, saying i eagerly as he watched the chair’s slow movement, across the. floor: | “Darling. I believe you’re right, i Gome as close as you can. Perhaps i can undo the knots.” j Patricia manoeuvred the chair until Meredith could reach the linen round | her ankles. With only one hand it was difficult to loosen the knots, but gradually the linen yielded to his repeated tugging and one foot was free. The other took even longer, and it was only at the end of half an hour that Patricia could shake both, her feet. “Oh. Guy,” she cried, “if you could j only get at the knots at. the back of the chair. Bjit I’m afraid they’re too high.” She stood up. lifting the chair b-v j the seat. ! Both sides of the chair-back were i curved, and Meredith noticed that the : bands of linen which fastened \ Patricia’s arms to her sides went j | round the broadest cart of these j i curves. If only the bands of linen j ; could be slipped upward be believed they would come right over the top ] of the chair-back. He told Patricia to let go of the chair seat. This left the whole weight I of the chair hanging on the linen i bands. By Meredith's direction she j repeated this dropping of the seat but j found no difference in the tightness of j the bands. “We must get them off.” Patricia \ cried desperately. “Look here, Guy. i if I stoop down as far as I can, could j

you pull at tlie bar between the back legs of the chair?” “That might move it if you pull in the opposite direction,” he said. “It’s only about a couple of inches before the curve begins to narrow.” Patricia stooped until Meredith could reach the chair-rail. He pulled; she pushed with both her hands on the seat, but the bauds did not move. Patricia could not restrain a sob of disappointment. “Don’t- get upset,” Meredith said soothingly. “I can’t get a steady pull this way.” He turned over on his left side. “Give me the rail again,” he said. “Now, you pull. I’ll just hang on. That will make a dead weight.” Patricia exerted all her strength, pressing her feet hard on the floor, and both her hands on the seat. The liuen band round Meredith’s arms and chest cut into the flesh, but he held on grimly. It was their only chance. Patricia stopped, panting for breath. “Go on.” he said. “Go on. It’s beginning to move.” Patricia pulled again. Pie set liis teeth because of the pain. But the linen was moving. Yes, distinctly it was moving. “Twist your shoulders, that may work it up on one side. Yes, it is—on the right,” he cried, as she twisted her shoulders, now this side, --now that. “Oh, Patricia, another half-inch and it will be over the curve!” He slipped his hand to the end of the bar, close to the leg of the chair. Patricia pulled and pushed as bard as she could on the right. Slowly, slowly the linen slipped upward. The edge reached the place where the chair-back began to narrow. “Keep it up. my darling,” Meredith panted, oblivious of the pain in his arm. “Keep it up!” Patricia could no longer push on the chair seat; it was already beyond reach of her hand. She twisted her right shoulder again; then pulled. The next moment she would have fallen upon her face but for Meredith’s hand upon the bar.

The linen had slipped suddenly over the curve of the chair-back, and she could move her right hand and arm. All she had to do was to get her arm under the three bands of linen which had fastened her to the chair, slip them over her head, draw out her left arm, and she was free. In an instant she was kneeling by Meredith’s side. The first thing was to unfasten the bands across his chest and back, pinioning his arms to his side. But the knots were immovable. Meredith’s straining to reach the necklace and to hold the chair, had drawn them into tight lumps upon which she could make no impression. She looked along the bench, but all the delicate tools had gone, thrust by Bartwell into the biscuit box. "I know!” she said. “The little screwdriver!” “It's in my inside pocket, with the other one, and the crowbar. And they’ve been beastly hard to lie on, especially the crowbar. The end has been sticking into my arm.” The crowbar was about a foot long, with a sharpened edge. Patricia felt this, and the edges of the two screwdrivers. The small one was the sharpest; but it had no effect upon the knots. Then her housekeeping knowledge came to her aid. Linen, even strong line, like these sheets, will tear easily across the “straight.” Picking up the bauds which had tied her in the chair, she held a piece of linen close under the light. Here was luck! The “straight” ran across the width and not the length of the strips Wryee and Bartwell had torn from the sheet 3. It would, therefore, be the same with

| the bands round Meredith’s chest and j arms. To cut the edge of each band by rubbing the end of the small screw- ! driver backward and forward upon it I and then rip the linen across was the ! work of a few moments. She found it ! easier to apply the same process to the j bands round Meredith’s ankles than |to attempt untying the knots. Then | Meredith, too, was free. 1 “There!” she cried in triumph, as she pulled the last hand away. “Maxwell Wryce and that Mexican brute never expected we should be so clever.” Meredith struggled to his feet with a glad cry. “Darling, I know we’re safe now!” said Patricia, putting her arms round his neck. "We’ll have a good try for It, any how,” Meredith said, kissing her and holding her as tightly as his numbed and strained arms would let him. She stooped down and picked up the sapphire necklace which was lying on the ground at their feet. They rolled the necklace round aud round in the linen bands which had fastened Patricia to the chair, and Meredith slipped it into his pocket. Then they had a council of war. Both felt it would he unsafe to leave by the painted door, as, even if the ; other three men had gone, Santo might be somewhere about. Obviously, there was a communication between the inner room and the yilla, be- ■ ! cause of Santo and Maria’s appeari ; anees apparently from nowhere, and : : the goings and comings of Wryce, Bartwell and Santo during the tyingup process and the packing of the | jewels. The question was to find it. (To be Continued Tomorrows