“ANNOUNCER’S HOLIDAY"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 11 January 1941, Page 10

“ANNOUNCER’S HOLIDAY"

published by special arrangement. copyright.

By

VAL GIELGUD.

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

CHAPTER XX. (Continued}. Adolf—of the swastika-scarred cheek —might perhaps have qualified for a place in the records of a very suspicious police. His expression was not really that of a peaceful citizen. His body was unusually powerful. And he was an exceptionally fine shot with a rille. But Benito would have seemed entirely in place with a napkin over his arm in any cheap restaurant. While Josef and Franklin had been born to pass in any crowd. It would have needed something in the nature of a miracle to persuade the charming and competent lady, who is the chatelaine of the island of Sark, that her demesn’e harboured on that sunny afternoon four of the most experienced murderers in Europe. Yet so it was.

Josef stretched himself out at full length: titled the brim of his hat so as to keep the sun out of his eyes, and concentrated his attention on a pair of gulls wheeling between sea and sky. • “How much longer have we got to wait. Adolf?" he asked. “We're getting fat."

“It's in the lap of the gods,” said Adolf.

Franklin picked up a pebble, and flung it over the cliff with the overarm swing of one who bowls a cricket ball—or throws a hand-grenade.

"You mean." said he. "that it's in the hands of Casimir Konski?" “If you like.”

“That's just the trouble. I'm not sure that I do like. I don’t trust Casimir. Adolf. What do you say. Benito?” The little Italian —he was actually a Corsican —licked his rather thick lips. “I trust nobody.” he said. "Five years in the Lipari Islands does not increase one’s confidence in one’s fellow men. But Casimir is risking his skin, too. He can’t throw us down without ruining himself into the bargain.” “He has a way of getting out. when his friends go to gaol,” grumbled Franklin, a New York Neapolitan, who had graduated to political murder from a gang run by one of Capone's rivals, and was in consequence a specialist in the use of the sub-machine-gun. “He knows the ropes in London.” said Adolf calmly. “We don't. The organisation must use what tools it can find. No one has yet questioned Casimir's ability.”

“And what about the ability of the English police?” persisted Franklin “Those boys have a reputation to lose so I’ve been told."

"And they're go’ng to lose it," said Benito, and added delicately. "Not losing your nerve, are you. Franklin?" The other snarled wolflshly. and his hand went automatically to his left arm pit.

“Quiet!” said Adolf decisively. “We're not carrying weapons. Franklin and if we were you know the rule of organisation —no private quarrels till the job’s done!" “I know all right," said Franklin, and dropped his hand sulkily enough. "But all this hanging around and waiting for the balloon to go up is liable to get me steamed up a piece!" Adolf sat up and crossed his arms across his knees. "Listen to me for a moment," he said. "I want to talk quite seriously. We have all waited years for this message from London. For years the organisation has waited for the dictators to leave their countries —to go to some place where they cannot be surrounded day and night by precautions and body-guards. And during those years I have been beaten and tortured, and Benito has been beaten and starved, and Josef has endured the hell of a Siberian salt-mine and Franklin has done ‘solitary’ in San Quentin. Each of us in turn escaped from our several hells, and the organisation has made us men again. We are surely not going to be schoolboys and throw away the chance we have earned with our blood and our sweat, just because we cannot endure to wait fur a few days longer in the sunshine?" There was no reply. His three listeners were all staring out to sea. But not one of them, at that moment saw the English Channel or the wheeling gulls. For Benito was back on the Islands cf Lipan, sweating in the midsummer heat of the Mediterranean, looking through bars at the black silhouette cf an Italian destroyer patrol; and Josef was working frost-bitten, shivering and emaciated, in the bowels of a Siberian salt-mine, and Franklin lay, huddled and semi-conscious in a pitch-black cell in the prison of San Quentin, while jeering warders deluged and bruised him With ice-cold watet from hoses. "Well"” said Adolf at last. He got no answer. But now lie needed none. There was that visible upon the faces of the other three, which rendered reply in words quite unnecessary CHAPTER NN I The second meeting with Superintendent Moresby in the shop in Soho pr-. Vi-d a sufficiently tame affair f. r Ge.!lr<-y and Charle.- Bland Thee found the -ctive curt, • ificial. am! uncommunicative H<* merely told them that he wanted if by any mean: it was possible, pvn umd commumc Hion to be re-established with Casimir Kun ski It appeared that that worthy had quitted h: establr hment in Limeh< u • just bef. re th... Ro,, r Police hud entered it, "And 111 bet <ld (‘avendr.h t<> just ‘s 1 iMlg ’ ■ let himself be p.-f“Uaded rmd it." md Chari-- wr.--, •.•rent!:-. You're i.n duty n -w. Mr Bland" was the Stij erinb mh-nt' .1, -.i• »i * ? -.1 ’• •‘H '"•’ j ’ •• ; r ’ •. • • ' ‘ ‘ ' < ’ ' f -..1t;. ; h-'id .’l ? I ft’' d V/hut V.‘ -'jb/ , * i t’h’r"*

“That's your bustnes," was all Moresby would say. locking from one to the ether with the sort of expression that a tyro at any job would dislike. "I needn't tell you two that you're our only, or even our main, thread in this business. But I can tell you that it's dam’ serious." .And he added privately to himself that it was a lot more serious than he liked to admit, and growing worse with every hour that passed. For the distinguished foreigners had made official announcement of their intention to start on their travels to the new Peace Conference. And already armies of workmen had cluttered up open spaces along the route between Buckingham Palace and St. Paul’s Cathedral with the scaffolding which in due course would turn into public stands from which the State procession would bo viewed. And Casimir Konski —in spite of all the eyes that had been on the look-out for his bulky. though elegant form —had vanished into the thinnest of thin air

The big policeman turned up his collar. pulled down the brim of his hat. and went on his way. “Well?" said Charles Bland. “Your move I’m afraid. Charles." “Meaning?” “You'll have to contact Lucia, and so by easy stages to our Casimir." "Thank you for nothing!” “I thought you found her attractive. Charles.” “My dear Geoffrey, I find her adorable. That’s precisely why I hardly fancy using her as a sort of decoyduck for her papa. It won't exactly improve my chances —if any. What about you and the fair Greta?” Geoffrey Allardyce tightened his lips. “All washed up," he said curtly.

“Oh. I'm sorry,” murmured Charles, a little blankly. “I’m afraid I must know how you stand, if I'm going to do any rushing in.” “All right, curse you! I've got to h t you carry on. Charles, because I'm out of it for the simple reason that Greta believes I made up to her at Casimi-'o orders! I’m suspect all ends up! Incidentally Lucia knows Um a temporary spy. She probably knows you are. too " "That’s the deuce and all!"

"You've said it.' Geoffrey agreed. “Why on earth I ever left my peaceful Fat Stock Prices "

“Yes,” said Charles. “And just at the moment when there are likely to b" some nice juicy news bulletins going bogging!" They looked uneasily at each other. Then Charles thrust out his jaw. “Come along—action, action!” he declaimed heroically. “I’ll go to the theatre and see if I can do anything with Greta Mahler. You go to the flat and stand by for a telephone call. I have a feeling that we may find our- ’ selves bound once more for Limehous- 1 ! Can you find your way back?” "1 think so." said Geoffrey. "SK; long.” And he departed for Soho in a most • uneasy fame of mind. But he was not to spend long on the rack of apprehensive wailing. He ha i hardly had time to climb the stairs to! his flat, pour himself a drink and light' a pipe when the telephone bell rang. "Hello—you Charles?”

“Yes, listen. Geoffrey. I believe something’s up. I wont to the theatre —Greta’s not playing tonight. There’s a notice up saying she’s ’indisposed”' "She may be. She was looking rotten this afternoon. "May be. 1 don't believe it. I rang the hotel. They said she was out." "Obvious excuse —she probably wanted not to have to talk to you. 1 expect she thought you were an embassy from me." "No. Geoff. I know the head porter —as the prodigal son of my father he thinks it sound to bo nice to me. She did go out. I don’t want to upset you, Geoffrey " Geoffrey laughed bitterly. "Get on, man!" "She went out in that great limousine—the porter noticed that black driver." “I see." He felt that he had expected it. but it was a pili for Geolfrey all the same ''Well',’" he demanded. I don t think I want to say any more on the telephone. Meet me at the Charing Cross Underground bookingOilscc as quickly as you can get there. And bring the burglary outfit .with you! I anticipate a dirty night, and dirtier work at the cross-roads." "Right you are." And Geoffrey rang off Fur a moment he toyed with the notion of ringing Scotland Yard and seeking Moresby's counsel. But the Superintendent had appeared busy, so noxious to leave them io work on their men. that he shrank from being snubbed as an incompetent amateui requiring nures-muiding S>> instead he mushed his drink, filled the p-a-ket.'. •‘t fi.-' trench rest with v.'irimi-i . ddmen's that might be weful. and set mt for Charmg Cro-m. most unc'-mh-ruibly burdened and bulging about the waist He fmmd Charlo- Bland, hmkrng trained and anxious, and fidgetim; fr-.rn no f, tu the other. 1 believe the hunt’s uj said that ■-'■'■h,'- ' I dnq p.-d ni at th.- h !<-l’ : my way and blued a c .iiple .f quid m bribery and corruption Greta g ■ ■ all rifht She's paid her bill ami thing ■ and left jm arid: <• ■ -•■■■ Geotfr.-y avagely. ‘ ‘! *j• <" fr•*j j » ■ *; Lit); V•■’ '■ ■ 1 *-1* ‘ > *i • the fir st stage back t , Vienna ■ j e ■ y ■; - (To be Continued).