THE BAMNANTYME SAPPHIRES

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 791, 11 October 1929, Page 5

THE BAMNANTYME SAPPHIRES

& BY

FRANK HIRD

CHAPTER XLII. “When my wife told them Jacques had given us the key of the painted door Santo imagined you knew as much about things as we did, because he was convinced that you had been responsible for our meeting with Jacques,” Meredith explained. “When you telephoned, they got the wind up completely. Santo was sure you had informed the police. That was the finishing stroke after the jeweller’s message to Wryce. They packed up bag and baggage, and were off.” “Leaving you to die of starvation?” “Yes,” said Meredith, “and but for a very clever wife, who didn’t lose her head, and a bottle of oil. we should both be down there now, tied up and helpless.” “Something can be said. too. about a clever husband who*didn't lose his head.” Patricia said, runnivg her fingers through Meredith’s dusty hair. “What’s that?” she cried in sudden alarm. “There in the kitchen!” Flaxton opened the dining-room door, and looked out carefully. “It’s not in the kitchen,” he told them. “Santo’s hammering on the door upstairs. I think lie’s trying to break it. down.” That evening, as the steamer for Marseilles passed through the Gulf of .Ajaccio toward the sea, Meredith and Patricia stood on the deck, watching the gorgeous panorama of water and mountain, as they had watched on the morning of their arrival. But now, as the little group of islands at the mouth of the gulf—the lies Sanguinaires—came into view, all their attention was fixed on the Villa Varato, which they could see, standing out whitely on the hillside. above its groves of olives and orange trees. Meredith took out a pair of field glasses. “He’s there/' he said. “I can see him on the terrace.” He handed the glasses to Patricia. Through them she could see Flaxton on the terrace of the villa, leaning on the parapet above the opening to the loggia. "Yes, yes,” she cried. “And now he s waving his handkerchief!” “Then that brute Santo will be free in an hour.” Meredith waved his handkerchief vigorously. "I wonder if he'll find out we’ve got away?” "I don’t think he will go near the cellar. I’m sure he and Maria are so frightened by what Mr. Flaxton said that directly he lets them out they will bolt into the town, and catch the first train to the mountains. Patricia was right. When Flaxton went up the kitchen stairs he found one of the panels of Canto’s- bedroom door already split from top to bottom. Blows were h p ing rained on it furiously. “Santo!” he called. The blows shopped instantly. “It is I, Monsieur Flaxton, speaking. 1 have not yet informed thd police oC what I know. But unless you remaiQ quietly in your room until l let you out I shall telephone to them immediately. I have heard a strange story, [f i fi ni i there are secret rooms } n this house, where stolen jewels are I shall send for the police. If 1 find there are no such rooms, then f shall unlock the door.” There was a silence: then Santo called out: ‘‘There are no secret rooms in the bouse, Monsieur.” "That remains to he seen. If wha» >ou say is true, you will he free —bu‘ only if you remain quiet.” Flaxton said sternly. “Any attempt to get out, and send for the police.” ‘Monsieur is wholly mistaken, but will be quiet.” came the surly answer through the door. ‘Santo has swallowed the bait.” In* sa kl, joiniug Patricia and Meredith Jno had been waiting anxiously in the •fining-room. "He is afraid of what I ®ay find out. That’s what I meant *fini to be.” Santo and Maria locked in neir room, it was possible for Pa* ncia and Meredith to have sreatly . needed baths. change 'heir dirty. torn clothes. and hack. Flaxton helped Meredith to arr y their luggage down through the 2a rden to his car. then took them str hight to the quay, where the Earner for Marseilles already had its st eam up. On the way they slopped at the post mc f» where Meredith sent a telegram 0 Orelkin in the code the latter had

given him before leaving London: n “Big luggage goes by Aquitania from Cherbourg next week. Find out date of sailing.” Meredith’s one fear, now, was that Santo might discover their escape when Flaxton released him and Maria, or perhaps, tired of the long waiting, burst the door. That would mean word going to Wryce. Flaxton himself thought there was little fear of this, but to make certain of this he would not unlock the bedroom door until after the steamer had passed the villa. He would go there straight from the quay, and wave his handkerchief from the terrace as the ship went by, to show them that the pi-is-oners were still locked in. All this was settled on board. When the “all ashore” bell rang, Meredith and Patricia went with Flaxton to the gangway. “Without you, Flaxton, I don’t know what we should have done,” Meredith •said. grasping his hand warmly. “There would have been nothing for it but to holt into the town just as we were.” “1 should not have been there if it hadn’t been for Jacques,” Flaxton began. “Oh, Jacques’” interrupted Patricia. “What has happened? Has he got away?” “That’s what I came to the villa to tell you about,” Flaxton replied. "Yes, he’s got .away. I arranged with a fisherman to take him to Sardinia. From there, with the papers I got for him at Bastia, he will be .able to cross to Italy without any question. I’ve advised him to go to South America as soou as he can. He will find plenty of good gardening jobs out there. If it hadn't been for you two, I could never have saved Jacques, so shall we cry quits?” “But. he added, as he took Patricia's hand, “I’m really your debtor, because you and Meredith took a serious personal risk, and In helping you today I took none. Jacques and I will never forget what you did for him.” “And have you heard how his wife is?” asked Patricia. “Yes, thank goodness, she’s pulled through, ancl is getting rapidly well.” “And the man he shot?” inquired Meredith. “He, too, is recovering, so Jacques is no murderer,” replied Flaxton. “And when his wife is well I’m going to try to bring them together. Jacques left a wonderful letter of contrition and love for her, and if she forgives him I shall persuade her to .go and join him.” “You are a real benefactor, Mr. Flaxton,” said Patricia, with deep feeling. “Helping others brings its own reward, Mrs. Meredith.” With that, the plump elderly man took his leave, and went down the gangway. The last they saw of him was striding along under the palm trees, militantly British in his tweed suit and thick brogued shoes. CHAPTER XLIII After they had passed the villa both Patricia and Meredith were silent as the boat sped toward the Islands covered with crimson weed, at the entrance to the Gulf. Both had the same thoughts in their minds. How little they had anticipated these happenings, these dangers, and. above all. their plumage beneath the surface of Corsican life, when they had sailed past these shores that radiant morning so short a time ago. All they had expected then was to wait for Maxwell Wryee’s visit to the villa, report to Grelkin, and depart. "At. any rate we’ve got the necklace,” said Meredith, answering Patricia’s thought and his own. “Here, in my inside pocket, all wrapped up in cotton wool and wash leather.” Patricia squeezed his arm . “That was our biggest stroke of luck.” she said, “and won’t dear Alice be delighted! But hasn't it occurred to you, Guy. that but for Jacques she would never have seen that necklace again ?” “I don't quite see that. How?” “Well,” she answered, “if Jacques hadn't told us about Santo and the jeweller, and given us the key. we should never have seen the necklace. And. even after we got it. we might not have been able to escape from the villa if Mr. Flaxton hadn’t come there to tell us about Jacques. So really it is all Jacques.” "I see what you mean, but what about somebody’s ‘feminine intuition'?” Meredith asked slyly. “Should 1 have bothered about Jacques if you hadn't swept me off my feet, and

promised to help Flaxton without a ! ‘nay’ or a ‘yea’ from me? So really | it was all your doing.” “But l felt right’ inside my bones i something would happen through Jac- i j ques.” “I bow to feminine intuition,” he i said, gently, pressing her hand in both ! his own. “My God! Where’s the Bannantyne ’ necklace?” Side by side upon a table in the j sitting-room of a Paris hotel were the secret trays from the suitcases in : which Patricia had watched Maxwell Wryce and Leofalda place the jewels, all broken from their settings in the underground room at Villa Varato. Beside one tray was a pile of brace-i lets, brooches, pendants, rings and strings of pearls. This pile Wryce was turning over and over with increasing anxiety. “Where’s the necklace?” he cried again. “It ought to be among this lot! They were all in the biscuit tin! i You packed them, didn’t you, Bart- [ well?” Julia Wryce, Leofalda, and Bart well! were sitting at another table, all three I busy with jewellers’ tools, removing the stones from a superb diamond j j riviere, which had been cut into i several pieces. Bartwell turned his head, saying, “I | packed everything there was on the ! bench.” Then he resumed his work. “But the necklace was on the bench, lying Oil the top of these pearls.” Wryce picked up several' strings of pearls from the pile, holding them in both hands. “Are you sure you packed It?” “Perhaps it is in tha.t lot,” Leofalda said, pointing to another heap of jewels at the farther end of the table. “No,” Wryce retorted. “All those were in the attache case. Don’t you remember when you were packing it. Bartwell handed you the Bannantyne | necklace and these pearls, and you said you would put them in on the top? Then we found there was too much stuff for the attache case, and Bartwell and Santo fetched the biscuit ■ tin. I saw the necklace and those pearls at the end of the bench when I 1 left the room.” “Of a surety, so did I.” Leofalda go.t up, and went to the second heap of jewellery, turning it over and over. “You see, it isn’t there, and it isn't | here,” Wryce cried, pointing to the first heap. “Bartwell, don’t you remember packing it?” “I can’t say that I do.” “But you couldn’t forget a big thing like the necklace,” WTyce cried angrily. “I don’t remember what I did pack, after you and Mr. Leofalda had gone. All I know was that I picked up every- ' thing on the bench, and me and Santo I shoved them into the tin.” Bartwell spoke sullenly, j “I was in such an upset, all of a I dither, after what had happened, -that J I didn’t notice anything.” i Wryce put up his hand in peremptory warning, but Bartwell added, “I can’t get it out of my mind! I don’t believe I ever shall!” “Can’t get what out of your mind?” Julia Wryce asked the question sharply. When Bartwell made no reply she looked at her brother, and said:

'Maxwell, what does lie mean?” There was silence. Wryce looked out of the window; Leofalda bent over the pile of jewellery; Bartwell kept his eyes fixed steadily on the pad of waskleather in front of him. “Maxwell, wliat does he mean?” she repeated. “Oh. there was just a little fuss at the Villa,” he answered, trying to speak lightly. “That jeweller chap at Ajaccio to whom we used to send the stuff has got some absurd idea about the police, Santo lost his head, expected us all to be arrested at any moment. So we had, practically to make a bolt for it. Bart well got the wind up thoroughly and hasn't got over it yet.” As her brother was speaking Julia Wryce was looking intently at Bartwell. When he had joined Wryce, Leofalda and herself at the hotel in Paris, where she had waited whilst the others had gone to Ajaccio, she thought the man was oddly changed. He appeared years older, and his usually healthycoloured face was tinged with grey. As she watched him now she saw an uncontrollable twitching of his lips. He had said: “I can’t get it out of my mind! I don’t believe I ever shall!” A man wouldn’J; say that, a man wouldn’t look as Bartwell looked, simply through fear of being arrested in Ajaccio. She rose quickly from her chair, and stood facing her brother. “There’s something more than that. Maxwell. I’m convinced of it!” she cried. “My dear girl, don’t be silly—” he began. “Directly you and Leofalda came back from Ajaccio X saw something had happened,” she went on, “something serious. Maxwell, what is it?” “Just what I said,” he answered, with an impatient movement of the head. “I don’t, lielive you! I knew from your face, your whole manner, when you came into this room three days ago that, something serious had happened. And I’ve felt it ever since.” She moved closer to him. “Do you know, Maxwell, your face Is positively haggard. And look at Bartwell! he can’t keep his lips still. No, you are not telling me the truth. Whatever happened at Ajaccio has made you and Bartwell afraid.”

She put her hand on his shoulder, saying pleadingly: “Maxwell, whatever it is I ought to know. Have I ever failed you'? If there is any danger then I ought to share it. Do. do tell me what hapi pened at Ajaccio.” Before Wryce could answer Leofalda, who had been turning over both piles of jewellery, shouted out a curse in Spanish. “You are right!” he cried, turning to Wryce. “The necklace is not here. That triple devil, Santo, must have taken it!” “Santo wouldn’t be such a fool,” Wryce replied. “He would know he couldn't get rid of it. Besides, he's never touched a thing since he’s been with me.” “But he must have taken it. he must!” Leofalda insisted, his “s's” more sibilant than usual. “There was no one else. You and I both see the necklace on the bench with the i string of pearls when we leave that

room. Bartwell and Santo pack all that is left on the bench in the tin box after we are gone. The strings of pearls are here, but there is no necklace! Therefore, Santo must have taken it. There was no one else. That interfering fool Meredith and liis wife couldn’t have touched it. I tied them lip too well for that!” Julia Wryce looked at her brother, her blue eyes wide with amazement. “Guy Meredith and Patricia!” she exclaimed. “Tied lip! But Maxwell, you told me you never saw them!” CHAPTER XLIV. Julia Wryce saw a curious pallor creep over her brother’s face, intensifying the little lines about his eyes and mouth, which she had only noticed since his return from Corsica. Then, with quick feminine intuition, she cried: “Ah, then whatever happened at the villa had something to do with Guy and Patricia!” “They shouldn’t have interfered!” Leofalda broke in. ‘‘You’d better tell her, Wryce. She will have to know sooner or later.” An odd sound, half wail, half sob, came from the table behind her. Julia Wryce turned quickly. Bartwell was crouching in his chair, his face hidden in his hands. She looked at her brother; then at Leofalda. Both men averted their eyes. Again there came the wailing, sobbing sound from Bartwell. “And it’s something . . . something horrible!” Julia/s voice was so low they could scarcely hear her. “Tell her,” said Leofalda brutally to Wryce, “and get it over! It was either them or us! Come along!” he added, touching Bartwell ou the shoulder. “We can finish this job afterward! ” Bartwell got up and followed Leofalda to the door. “We’ll be in the cafe just down the street on tlie right when you want us,” the Mexican said over his shoulder as he turned the key in the lock. The two men went out. For an instant Wryce stood motion- j less. Then he crossed to the door and locked it. Wryce had no intention of ever telling his sister of the scene in the underground room at Villa Varato. In all tlieir years of successful crime there had been no violence, no, even in his thoughts, Wryce shrank from the word “murder.” But now, Leofalda’s blurting out that Meredith and Patricia had been tied up in the underground room, and his sister’s quick intuition that “something had hap- j pened” to them gave him no chance. Elis first thought was to disguise the full horror of Meredith and Patricia, tied and bound—helpless—slowly starving to death in the secret chamber. But, as he told his story, he realised that if he said they were only tied up in order to give him, Leofalda. and Bartwell a chance to escape, and would be released by Santo, his sister would know the full truth when Meredith and Patricia never appeared iu the world again. Besides to disguise the horror would make it impossible for him and Julia to live in England. If she thought Meredith ancl Patricia were alive she would know they would tell the story of the board of stolen jewels at the villa. And the Bannantynes and all : their friends would know who had stolen the sapphire necklace. Consequently, she would refuse to return to England from America. No, he reflected, it was better that j Julia should know the whole truth rather than they should live in perI petual exile because of "her fears of exposure by a man ancl woman who •all the while were lying dead in the stone chamber underneath the villa. Wiyce began his story from the moment when Meredith and Patricia had walked into the secret room. He. Leofalda and Bartwell, he explained, had worked all the previous night in breaking-up the jewels. For fear that by some chance either Meredith or Patricia should.see them go into the ravine or hear any sounds as the jewels were beiug unpacked from the wine cases, Santo and Maria had made up the story about seeing relatives in Ajaccio. This meant that Meredith rnd Patricia dined in the town. While they were away he and Leofalda had unpacked all the jewels. When he described how Meredith had discovered Julia .Wryce* s and Bartwell’s theft of the necklace, how every word the brother and sister bad spoken in the upper room in the tower at Brentland had been heard in the room below, Julia threw up her hands—a gesture of despair, fTo be concluded tomorrow.)