“ANNOUNCER’S HOLIDAY"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 20 January 1941, Page 10

“ANNOUNCER’S HOLIDAY"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

By

VAL GIELGUD.

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

CHAPTER XXVI. (Continued’/. Then he swore at himself and dashed int the telephone box in the comer. There was the Commissioner. Moresby, the Yard, and now the 8.8. C. itself —all in the deuce of a flat spin because ne, Geoffrey Allardyce, had vanished into the blue. Presumably Charles had told Moresby of the even’s of the night before. . .

! Ana then, as ho slipped his tuppence 1 into the slot, a second hideus thought ’ struck him. Was it that Moresby didn't ; want his information at all? Could 11 .be that the police wanted him tor ! murder? For the wilful murder of I Prince Xavier, with his own sword- ! stick? Had the police found that hor- ; ribly twisted corpse with Geoffrey's • finger prints on the stick? -Damn it, stop jittering!" muttered Geoffrey to himself, and asked hoarsely for Whitehall 1212. -Whatever it was, it wasn't wilful murder. It was dam' : well self-defence—in front of witnesses at that. Get hold of yourself —O—Scotland Yard? This is—er Mr. Allardyce—yes, Allardyce—l want to speak to Superintendent Moresb — M-o-re-s —S for sausages—can't you hear? That's right." Followed an endless pause. Geoffrey looked back into the saloon. But the door between the two bars was closed, and he could see nothing of Adolf. Still he must be quick, . . -That you, Moresby? Listen —the birds you want came in by 'plane last night. Four foreigners—German, Italian. Italian-American, and Russian, and call ’emsclves after their national dictators: Adolf. Benito. Franklin. Josefgot that? Yes. Heaven knows where the ethers are. but I'm on Adolfs tan here, and I'll keep there. No, he’s being pleasant enough. I'm his guide to London already. They're out for the procession all right—seats in the Temple Bar stand, on the north side of road. Q 13 something or other —I only saw the ticket for a second. I must go —l’ll ring you when I get him a bit nearer civilisation. Moresby. Charles all right? Fine. And — and Miss Mahler? O—er thanks. So long." He rang off. and wiped his forehead. Well, so far so good, and it was like manna from heaven to feel in touch with old Moresby again. It almost; looked as if he'd pulled it off after all. Old Charles was all right. So was Greta apparently—thank God! It was pretty difficulty to believe that it didn’t really matter to him whether Greta was all right or not. No, damn it! of course it mattered —more than anything else in the whole shootingmatch. It had been a bit dim of him not to have even inquired after Lucia! .And then he remembered that Lucia had been with him on the river, that she might be at the mercy of Casimir Konski at that moment, that he really owed Lucia quite a good deal—everything, if things now went well. Yes. he was certainly a brute of the first water not to have asked after Lucia. He left the telephone box. Mr. Food was still playing. Presumably the Chief Announcer was at that momety descending with dignity and address to the restaurant to choose and eat his lunch. Probably Moresby was throwing his considerable weight all over Scotland Yard. . .

Geoffrey pushed open the door dividing SALOON from PRIVATE once more, and went in. The barman stood alone by the bar, polishing glasses with meditative concentration. Geoffrey looked round wildly. Adolf was gone. No, the barman hadn't seen no blinkin' furriner with a scar: no. he had better uses for his time than to keep his eyes open; and he'd thank you to mind your own business, and let him mind his —the barman in short was neither helpful nor polite. Geoffrey groaned, and bolted out into lhe street. CHAPTER XXVII It was with a boating heart tha’ Lucia watched Geoffrey Allardyce and the .man called Adolf walk away into the darkness. She, made a tentative movement towards leaving the boat at the same time, but Casimir had called her back, saving that Luke would need someone to help him lock up. The las', thing that sb- wanted was to spend any more of that night with Casimir and Luki* Barnes. She had little or no confidence in her coat ami cap disguise*, i r she had t<> fac<- h-r father at cluse quarters and in any kind of light. At the same time to make a bolt for it w.m impossible And though she longed no re thiip anything in the world to fol). Geoffrey, she realised that to d,. so would only result in giving him away without doing herself any good. So - he set her teeth and stayed where she was To her immense surpr; ■<* the end <,f the voyage stood revealed as that samei ram-hackle quay from which they had set <>ut. Was it conceivable that Ca-n--idn* v.np; tnL’inj-J ' > fi.s htiti'ic afwr all'.' Apparently it wa- H<- eiammm-d ashore, turned tmmid ami b-ekotied !<e "I want you to come with me," he! "Barne? .an 1 I ,*.!•. t the 1 at G< od-night, Barnes " Barnes merely grunted mmimuibly, and the bi.-at chugged awi.y up river ’ill* boa’. Wm .o.jmed by the rive: am! I’a; ■■ ■ ‘ md hi tt * h nya I On !•. • th’* ‘*4 ;’iR ;<k' ’■ u,T c of’ p-. Lt. and L’du-•

she could, dug her chin as far down as I possible into the collar of the big duffle ' coat, and wondered how on earth she

i was going to disguise her voice. I "I think. Lucia." said Casimir, pull- ; ing out his cigar case, "that you'd bet- : ter take off your coat before we go 1 upstairs. You don't want to get over- ; healed and catch a chill!" ; Lucia stood quite still and quite silent.

"Let me help you" said Casimir gently, and took the coat from her shoulders.

"So you knew?" she said at last. "I knew. 1 usually do. Not at first, my dear. Until we started back 1 had no idea. I had other things to think about. But on the way back I knew quite soon. 1 congratulate you on your nerve."

-Thank you." said Lucia. "Why? I; is something of a compliment. After all lam your father. You

should possess nerve.’’ "If you were my father —yes. Why keep it up any longer?” “But I assure you 1 am.” said Casimir. "Why else should I have kept you with me all this time? .As a professional • vampire on my staff? Believe me, my I dear. you make a very indifferent ; specimen—" | "You might have had another rea--1 son.” flashed Lucia. j "You mean for my own baser pur- ; poses? Alas. 1 am no longer as young }as all that, my dear Lucia, besides—- ! how long have you been with me?” "Three years.” Exactly’—a little more to be precise. And your virtue is still intact? Rather a long period for seduction, don't you think?” "I don’t understand," said Lucia. She felt suddenly very young and bewildered. and quite desperately tired. Casimir took her arm and led her up the staircase to his library. On the threshold the girl pulled herself together again. “We can’t go in there." she said, "it's still full of gas—and Xavier was killed —" Casimir turned to face her. What do you mean? That gas was the most harmless type of the dentist variety. D’you think I wanted the death of any of those young fools? I'm I not a butcher, Lucia.” ( The girl stammered out how Xavier! had met his death, and how she had re- ■ leased Charles and Greta Mahler J through the secret door. "You would seem to have done a full nights work," said Casimir with a wry! smile.

Then he opened the door of the library and walked in.

It was empty. So was the secret room when he looked into it.

"Your young friends must have called in the police after you left," said Casimir. "After two visits they are unlikely, 1 feel, to return." And he sat down in his favourite chair by the writing desk that was still disordered from Greta Mahler having been laid upon it. Lucia flopped down into an armchair. She was almost at the end of her tether beyond feeling of any kind, even of surprise.

"Why didn't you do something about it on the river, if you knew who 1 was’.’" she asked after a little.

Casimir shrugged slightly. "Our companions were four of the most dangerous criminals in Europe.* he said. ‘Wott are my daughter." "I see.’

"Do you 1 I doubt it, Lucia. You think I’ve treated you strangely I suppose. But what was 1 to do with von

once you were grown up? I am like Job’s Satan, my dear, I walk up am! down the earth, troubling it Yet I could hardly* leave* you alone in Italy You see —I loved your mother." So that was it. thought Lucia. Th< quiet dispassionate tones carried absolute conviction. She believed Casimir absolutely, perhaps now for the first time since she had known him. S-> fit* was human after all—-eould hat- and love like other people, so that at long last he would risk the sucres*. of his greatest coup for the sake of a sentimental memory' of a woman many years dead She found that there were tears in her eyes and that Casimir*: face was blurred as she looked at him She wondered what was really passing l behind the broad forehead beneath the scanty r< d hair. And Casimir himself. 1 He was not thinking of Lucia at all and h<* was many mile:- from Limehouse and Lond< River He was back in Naj le sitting on th— terran* of a little cafe in the hot southern sunlight looking out aerm-s th.- bay ;<.* -he outline of Caps" Ami opposite him. m-ross two lorn; , gla of vermouth sat another v. / man in a dress long out of fashion: a ! grmofu! •.■•■■man with a creamy white si::!,. deep brown eye- the blackest i f black n.-ur. and a pmk friliv gara'iil iw had alwus - firn,-d that } ', ar ; t ht . i emembi-rec -ai:<.f she would never -igne-e '.ha! ■’ real!-, irritated turn A little smile twisted his he re- ' n.ftni'l :,-l that m tho(jays hi* had. iio.'-o a re-,per table member of “ member of ih- Austrian Diplomatic i s<-rvK-e. ;>.■ <i a coming nan He hud loved Luria's mother- -but he find loved 111-. t • %-«- TVI. ’ > « - . iis'-d him thm marriage at that p< * ...t ' ‘ have - f filed that career. S ■ !;■* had *: >■ married. mM I. 00., no, liad tii—d of l.m .a a**:i .■> hl I;! t t. -S Vi-'i' k , ..... ... ■ - hm after all v..- .■ - , TM''- }’r-.' aid Cn :> ■ ■7. ! <