“BROCKLEBANK'S ADVENTURE”

Wairarapa Times-Age, 6 August 1940, Page 10

“BROCKLEBANK'S ADVENTURE”

COPYRIGHT. PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

By

R. A. J. WALLING

(Author of “The Man With the Squeaky Voice,” etc.)

CHAPTER XI.

r (Continued). r “Lot me have a good look at you. Mr - William Brocklebank. If all this is ’> true, how did you find out about me — s my address—even my nickname? Tell s me that.’’ “Quite simple. When Pamela was . spirited away—she- left her things at the hotel —Felton’s, where we were to .’ have met her uncle. A note written at this address apparently before she , started her journey—of course it must • have been, was rammed into the pocket —and it was signed 'Kat,’ telling her that the awful man was calling at half past four in the afternoon. I took it to be a warning to keep away if she wished to avoid him. that it had been left for her by ‘Kat,’ and that therefore she probably lived here ” “And I was beginning to think you honest!” interrupted Miss Emmerson. “Continue to think so, Miss Emmerson. But tell me had Pamela given you any idea that she was doing a dangerous thing on that journey of hers?” “Dangerous? She said she was going to bulldoze—but, no, Mr Brocklebank, I’m not going to answer.” “I'll complete the answer for you. Going to bulldoze some comic old politician out in the East. As for the danger, I suppose Pamela rather likes a spice of danger. She did the bulldozing all right. Then the yellow dog and his cronies got busy. I saved her from one attempt at kidnapping when they’d doped her and were taking her off unconscious —well. I'd better tell you the whole thing. Then perhaps you’ll believe me honest.” Brocklebank got away from Nottingham Gardens at half past eleven. By that time he had a certificate of honesty from Miss Emmerson, and answers io his three questions: Pamela at home in London shared this flat .with her. No letter from a foreign place had reached Nottingham Gardens while she was away: Herr full name was Pamela Harri-son-Clifford, and her uncle was Mr George Harrison-Clifford, of Bystock - House, Caterham, a mining engineer, who had made a lot of money broad. He told his news excitedly to Tolefree, who waited for him at Felton’s. A good piece of work, Tolefree thought. The identification of Harri-son-Clifford might prove to be important — "I should jolly well think so!” grumbled Brocklebank. But Tolefree had news more important still. He had identified the chief • conspirator. It was easy enough, and it explained everything. The myster- ; ious Henry of Wolston Manor was sim- ’ ply Henry Worth, the son of his father. “Well, I’m damned! And old goggle- 1 eyes is not only in the swindle, but 1 it’s a family enterprise?” , 1 “Clearly. A travelled and adventurous person, Mr Henry Worth, with : much experience of the Near East. 1 Gained some of it in the company of '■ the pseudo-Harrison. We’ll get on their 1 track in next to no time, Brocklebank.” < “But—Gravesend —” “Ah. yes. ■ Gravesend. Well. I slept at the Royal Victoria. Made a few enquiries. Charles was there yesterday 1 afternoon, waiting for a telephone ' message —which he received ” ' “Then he must have given some ■ name!” said Brocklebank. ! “Stubbs —naturally. Henry arrived at nine o’clock--” 1 ‘But, Pamela?—and her uncle ?” ■ “We agreed, didn’t we, that he couldn't s take his prisoners to a public hotel? ' In fact, he came to call for Charles, and they went away together im- I mediately. Couldn’t get any further 1 trace of them.” 1 “Oh!” said Brocklebank, bleakly. 1 “Fact is, I didn't try very hard. 1 That’s for later. No time. I’ve come 1 to a conclusion, Brocklebank. It’s a ' nasty one. I'm going to try it out. In my opinion, the key to his conundrum : is Sir Arthur Ackerton. What we can 1 discover about Ackerton will be de- c cisive.” s “But, Tolefree! You said yesterday, I Ackerton’s no use to us because we ' can’t get at him, and you didn’t think 1 this was in his character.” 1 “Yes, all true. But our friends have t negative as well as positive uses. And • the next item in the programme is a ( quest for information: what's Ackerton ( doing in this galley? Evei’ hear of ‘ Lord Brownwood?” Brocklebank had 1 a vague idea that Lord Brownwood was something in the Government. Tolefree nodded. “We're going to lunch with him in Grosvenor Square." ' “What! You can't plant me on an 1 eminent statesman in Grosvenor Square ” “Why not? Lord Brownwood’s a for- ' mor patron of mine. I’ve a great ad- 1 miration for him. I assure you he’s 1 quite anxious to meet Mr Brocklebank. ! You’ll see one of the most charming ( men in London —and, more to the ' point, one of the astutest.” ' Brocklebank had to admit the charm. I The tall, silver-haired man who rose from his study chair to shake hands I had all the charm there was. As to t his astuteness. Brocklebank was to I judge as they sat at a small dining table in a big. sombre room and drank coffee and smoked cigars. c “Well, yes, Tolefree —I have met Sir Henry Worth. You can't be in the City at all without knowing something c about that —er —ornament of Capel 1 Court, can you? But you aren't seriously asking me for a character sketch 1 of Worth? The mystery to me is that any one can make so much money . within the ordinary rules of meum and tuum —I mean the rules that govern us ordinary folk. You must know s much more of him than 1 do." ( Lord Brownwood swung his eye- ( glass on its ribbon and looked quiz- j zically at Tolefree. ( “Yes, of course in some ways 1 do," r Tolefree replied. “But I wondered |- whethcr you'd heard any whisper [ about him —say. that he was crossing c the Rubicon ”

“Rubicon!—'' I “Yes, the river that divides Capel -1 Court from Whitehall.” 5 “Ah,” said Lord Brownwood, “so - many do, don't they? I myself, for I instance ” “But that wasn't quite what I meant. ; Perhaps I should have asked whether you’d heard anything about a raid across the Rubicon.” “A raid —predatory?” "Yes, distinctly predatory,” said Tolefree. “How very interesting!” exclaimed Lord Brownwood, dropping his eyeglass and looking more seriously at Tolefree. "But clearly you'd have more reliable information than I could get on such a matter, Tolefree. Straight out of the horse's mouth, no doubt. Have some more coffee?” “However.” said Tolefree. "Sir Henry Werth's only by the way. Mr Brocklebank is more concerned to know something about a person who crossed the Rubicon some years ago—a friend of his late father. Sir Arthur Ackerton. “Ackerton? Dear me! Why yes. of course, Ackerton was in the City. I remember. What do you want to know about him, Mr Brocklebank? I believe he’s now abroad.” "I met him last week in France, said Brocklebank, “the first time in five years. I've been away in America. The meeting was in peculiar circumstances. I didn't know Sir Arthur had left the City. He gave me some advice, and I didn’t take it ” “Ah!" murmured Lord Brownwood, “that was probably a pity. Very sound adviser, Ackerton.” “It’s just that,” Tolefree intervened, “about Sir Arthur’s soundness. The peculiar circumstances Mr Brocklebank mentions —they were what brought him to me —led him to suspect Sir Arthur was mixed up in a shady piece of business ” “Ackerton? Surely not!” “Well, if my theory of his reason for crossing the Rubicon's correct, that suspicion was a delusion, and Sir Arthur is immixed, so to speak, for perfectly respectable reasons.” “I should say so. Undoubtedly, Tolefree,” said Lord Brownwood. “Then, I’m going to make a bold guess. If, when Ackerton deserted the City for the West End he did so in order to join the Secret Service, that might account for Brocklebank stumbling on him in these suspicious circumstances.” “Hypothetically undeniable,” Lord Brownwood said. “Hypothetically, mind you!” “Quite! We needn’t pursue that. On such a hypothesis, if Ackerton hinted to Mr Brocklebank that he was on his way to the Atlas Mountains when he had no intention whatever of going near them, that would be quite a permissible prevarication?” “Would it?” Lord Brownwood considered the end of his cigar. “Or you could assume, I suppose, that in the Secret Service one’s plans may change from one moment to the next, and that if the Atlas Mountains were perfectly < true today, they might not necessar- ( ily be true tomorrow.” J “Obviously. So we absolve Acker- I ton from any association with a shady ' business and from 'any deliberate de- ' ception of Mr Brocklebank. And then, ‘ Lord Brownwood, if Ackerton —I’m still proceeding hypothetically—if Ac- j kerton played his part as we should ( expect him to play it, any feai‘ Mr ] Brocklebank might have about the 1 success of the shady business would be baseless.” “You know, Tolefree, on the hypothesis I think that’s a very neat syllo- , gism of yours. Just what I should expect from you, of course. It would be very interesting to me, Tolefree. to know a little more of this shady business and Mr Brocklebank’s concern in it.'"

“I was coming to that,” Tolefree said. “Hoping, in fact, for counsel from you. Mr Brocklebank, by an accident too long to relate, was commissioned to escort a young lady from Marseilles to London, for the protection of a certain document she was believed to be carrying, but was, in fact, not carrying, since she had the sense to post it to herself in England. Some attempts to deprive her of it were spoilt by Mr Brocklebank, and he actually did get her safely to London; but here, within an hour, she was kidnapped under his very nose." “Kidnapped? Here?—in London? Tut, tut!" “You no doubt ask why the police were not called in at once. Lord Brownwood?" "Do I? But —well, go on, Tolefree?" “There were reasons, arising out of the terms of Mr Brocklebank’s commission, why he could not call in the police. But he also has a suspicion that if his present efforts to find her fail, some alarming results may follow—not for her. perhaps, but results which you yourself would—er—deplore." “Ah—you think so?" said Lord Brownwood. "Meaning. I imagine, that the shacty business would be brought to a shady conclusion?” "Exactly." “But—how interesting. Tolefree! Go on.” “I hesitate to go on,” Tolefree declared. “Stop me if I’m indiscreet. Hypothetically, as we’ve agreed, the business would have to fail, because Ackerton would have seen to that." “Well, that was the argument, wasn’t it?" “If there was a last day on which success could possibly be achieved, and that day was next Thursday, and, therefore Friday would be too late, and if the event betokening success had to take place in the Eastern Mediterranean, then nothing that might happen between now and Thursday in' London River —say at Gravesend —i could affect it?" | (To be Continued).