“ANNOUNCER’S HOLIDAY”

Wairarapa Times-Age, 2 January 1941, Page 10

“ANNOUNCER’S HOLIDAY”

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT,

By

VAL GIELGUD.

(Author of "Africa Flight." "Outpost in China,” etc.)

CHAPTER IX. (Continued). But he had received visits that evening. A cloth-capped gentleman, apparently travelling in sewing-mach-ines. had called, and rather surprisingly had been given the opportunity to discuss his business for more than half an hour. Another, in the uniform of the River Police—-to which he had no right whatsoever —had looked in after dinner. Two tradesmen had been much further into the house that the threshold of the back door. Casimir Konski, in short, had been receiving the weekly reports of the heads of an extremely efficient intelligence service. And those reports dealt with matters, compared with which Prince Xavier’s unfortunate entanglement was the merest bagatelle. Geoffrey Allardyce, had he not been otherwise engaged, might have put two and two together. For one of the aforesaid tradesmen —who were not tradesmen—bore an astonishing resemblance to the fat apple-eater of the Soho shop where he had bought his corkcrew, and where all the trouble had started accordingly.

Casimir smoked and reflected. And across that sophisticated, cynical, finely polished mind, there fitted a thought-sequence like a news-film across the screen of a cinema theatre. He thought cf the Europe he had known as a young man; the Europe of empires, and gold lace, and good manners, and privilege. He recalled the collapse of that Empire under the shock of war; the carving up of the old Austria in whose Foreign Otfice he bad served, among squalid modern republics; the sequestration of his own estates. and close of his career; his gradual descent into the backwaters of subterranean politics, as an impenitent servant of lost causes, a persistent dreamer of revenge. His rather large, square hands moved restlessly over the kitten's sleek fur. and his teeth bit savagely into the cigar butt. Twice ne had played for the Great Stake —the renewal of a Europeanwide conflagration in which all the modernity he loathed might well be consumed. in the flames of liquid fire and clouds of poison gas. once with von Reichenberg—whose name he had now assumed—in the conspiracy of “The Broken Men"; once when drove the exiled Archduke Ottokar Maximilian to his doomed attempt to recover the throne of Styria and the Islands. Twice he had failed, and almost alone of the authors of a great conspiracy had escaped unscathed. Now for a third time he would make the throw. And this time he was playing—not for an orgy of sheer destruction with ■■The Broken Men”; not for the restoration of a petty monarchy—but for a stake no less than the continued might, majesty, dominion, and power of the British Sovereign and His Dominions.

The house was very still—it usually was. when Lucia was out of it. Somewhere away an the river a tug hooted dismally. The kitten stretched itself and curled back into an even tighter ball of fur. Casimir tossed the stub of his cigar into the fire, drew his chair up to his desk, and picked up a pen. He smiled a little. It suddenly struck him as amusing; one stoutish, elderly ex-diplomat, armed with a fountainpen and kitten, drawing up a plan of campaign against the greatest power of the civilised world: Then he heard the knocker beaten against the front door, and echoing through the hall below; Lucia's knock. He pressed the spring beside the desk which communicated with the front door, and began to draw little lines and circles on the sheet of paper in front of him.

•■You're back early,” he said, without looking round, after a minute or two.

‘■Yes," said Lucia from the doorway, i Something strange in her tone struck , Casimir's sensitive ear. He turned in his chair. I "Anything wrong”' "No." "Was it amtning? You look lovely tonight, my dear. I hope the young man appreciated his good fortune.” "He appreciated Greta's loveliness! — more to the point, isn't it," "What is it.. Lucia?" "Wil! you tel! me something'.”' "Of course.” "Did you try to have Greta killed tonight?" Casimir's thick eyebrows shot up. "Did ’-what? I'm not a tool. Lucia I don’t like that sort of compliment. What happened?" Lucia blurted mil the story of what had taken place in the theatre. Casimir laughed. And you thought I would do a thing like that! I’m surprised at you. This young man isn't good for you, my dear." Lucia reddened. "He's got nothing to do with it 1 " she said angrily. "And if you're not telling me the truth, you may find that I'll have nothing to do with it either!"; ' l.ueia'" : aid Casimir, frowning. But !hv girl did not wait t<> heat \ more. Her evening cloak twirled n-J the doorway. the d..-«>r bunged. and, Casimir wa< left tn stare at hn beet of 1 paper. Dear me" |<■ -ighmi, a .iijem.; Cam- ur!" But h.- only acti.-n was t<» a. little bi .. k fr.>ni mu- of the drawers 111 \ his desk. It contained a list »f names, j against <-;wh of which stood one <»r nrnre I a .■ Lucia's name came; second < n the list, mid Casimir Kmv-ki t now drew lite neatest of (iise-itiun-1 . > 1 1 marks against it' --m red ink CHAPTER X Jus', al. >ut the same time that C i 1-: mir was marking off im, daughter as ' something of a doubtful qua’:’:!" in h!s seb.< mes 1',.-. dies A 11.,: d> < o a.r.m mg queries With CegUid to tile y. jin; ' lady Charlo Blami It a dill cult ihai.j Js-m d - H<- h.v! j: ' been *.:-.-<-d by Luma tor ■thmg Am! 1 I-■. < s'.'-; . , > t<i lic• lirve that whne dees snu

tell, one is doubly bound not to be kissed and tell. And while he had found Lucia most attractive, he was not even faintly in love with her. and he had begun to mistrust her profoundly. Finally, Miss Mahler’s sappharine eyes had played havoc with his feelings It did not help him to find that Charles was inclined to treat the matter frivolously. “Hand her back to me. and stop worrying!" was all Charles would say. ■'She picked me in the first place—not you! Let me take her on from now—and you run home.” "But Lucia apart,” said Geoffrey, fiddling with an unlit pipe. “What does one do now?”

"What do you want to do?” "See Greta Mahler as soon as 1 can and put her wise,” said Geoffrey honestly. ••Wen?" “Yes—but on my own. Lucia ” "Cramps your style?" said Charles delicately. "1 can believe that.” "Oh, style be hanged. Charles! The point is, what’s her name? It looks as if she’s double-crossing her reputed papa, whom she’s admitted isn’t her father at all. Why? And why did she bother to find out that I wasn’t you?"

"rm afraid." said Charles Bland, “that her motive looks horribly personal to me.” “You mean?” “Vulgarly speaking, the poor girl’s fallen for you I’m sorry—for her. But there it is. She'll probably spill the whole works io you for love. The foreign spy has been fatally entrapped by the stirring in her life for the first time of feelings of pure love." "Shut up! Il’s not funny!" “It isn't even original. And if you don’t happen to have fallen for her, as I gather you haven’t, it may become dangerous. She's that dark luscious type, who ought to carry a stiletto in her garter." “Do be serious, Charles.” “What’s tfie good? Tackle the fair Greta, and leave this fatal vamp to me! Give her an appointment for the night you go to see the Mahler, and I’ll keep it." , Geoffrey began to hunt about the room for his tobacco. “I can do that of course," he admitted . “What does Moresby really think?” ”O —you’ve forgiven me for blowing the gaff to the Yard?” “I suppose so." “Well, he’s taken on a watching brief. But, of course, like all professionals, he subconsciously resents butting-in by amateurs, however charming or goodlooking we may be. And he’s bound accordingly to pretend to believe, even if he doesn’t really believe, that we’re suffering from overheated imaginations. He couldn't help being impressed by Casimir Konski’s dossier. But I don’t think ho believed a word of that yarn of yours about the submachine guns."

Geoffrey stopped by the mantlepiece. "So he didn't didn’t he? Are you too tired for a walk?”

"I’m so stiff after that infernal gallery at the theatre, walking would be a pleasure," said Charles. "Where do we go? Land's End for breakfast?” "I thought we might have another look at that shop, where I bought the corkscrew.” Charles Bland got to his feet. "It's nearly two in the morning,” said he. “D’you expect to find it open?" "No—but we might—'effect an entrance' is. I believe, the expression.” "And gel two years. I suppose we might. After all I believe old Moresby would go bail for us at a pinch.. Give me another drink, lend me that Cossack knife off your wall, and I'm on!” "What do you want the knife for?" "Not to fight machine-guns with cold steel, my gallant Don Quixote. But we may have to open windows, or even ' packing cases. And I don’t suppose' you've a supply of jemmies in tinflat. have you?” i "Not yet,” grinned Geoffrey, un-: hooking the knife from the wall. It was about 18 inches long, with a . leather sheath, a birchwood handle, and both a point and one cutting edge. Charles .slipped it into his pocket. "Avanti!” Ise exclaimed, and picked’ up his hat. They went out into Soho Square, ■ whose trees against a moonlight sky I sec.-med qucerly negative of ail London and walked quickly along deserted; pavements to the place Geoffrey remembered,

"Lucky it's not one of those disreputable foreign capitals," murmured the incorrigible Charles, "or we should find quite a few people realising that the night is far more agreeable that: the day for most occupations, and we should have to do our burgling under the eyes of a vast crowd." Gcoflrey did not answer. To be strictly truthful, he was wishing that he hadn't embarked upon this pm-ucu. lar piece fu insanity It would h.ok pretty if he came out in the impers as having .titcinpied burglary during hilt av<-’ One thmg the 8.F5 C wmild probably enter a plea of presutnptive un-<>f nund on his bchiHf . . . I.;»■ lhri*c furtiw High*-w;ilkvr-- ■ .ulcii past. A eat investigated orangcpwl supercHiously in a gutter From - -me Miblcrraiwatt night-club emue the ■< Ui .d <f a J ..ano vd.-ly played. A itegro tags ■!<•:• . ~t . f a d" : way. ;.r;.: lurch.-J away along opt (.'.-apt, n And her.- we are'” ...aid <p, That ' repl;, <f Chari.Bland !:;< ->l i!:‘.vre--!:j;g Y'oil're sure'”* "Of CoUi-.e Pm ' D« a hot under th<- r filar! iTat purr. .( fed Jike Gtoiijoy !<■< [,e<j He did not purr He re Ik 'W..:o 7. :!h foehn}’ ami m .!}? i'j F :■ tin Wind ~f tlse ■-*■■■ P -mired Plata. empty if the eve., eg,-* ■ f ,t ;.',U At. I «,.Ver the t.|< <S;‘ a pewpt | aitj’cd board hi. • n.d T() LET " (To be Cvnti:n;<-d».