“ANNOUNCER’S HOLIDAY”

Wairarapa Times-Age, 21 January 1941, Page 10

“ANNOUNCER’S HOLIDAY”

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

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VAL GIELGUD.

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

j: CHAPTER XXVII. (Continued). I “But, father ’’ I “No. my dear. We’re not going to tell I any more lies, or make silly pretty j speeches to each other. 1 think it is be- ; cause I am rather old and very tired, i But 1 expect tomorrow to see my finish I —and I don’t really care any more. I ; think 1 have outgrown like, life every- ; thing else. I am only going to ask you ! one thing—not to gc out into the streets I to watch the procession." I "You mean ?’’ i “I mean just that, Lucia. It would re- ■ lieve my mind, that is all, if you would ' promise me that." Lucia stood up. "I promise,” she said. It was very difficult to speak somehow, with a great lump in one’s throat ' that would neither move up nor down. I “Thank you. my dear." said Casimir. ! "But what arc you going to do?" she ' asked, as she stooped and kissed him. ; i “I am ’going.” said Casimir, "to take a | . little sleep, before I get up early and j go to see the procession." 1 “But you said ” | "Ah, that’s different for me, Lucia, i i You see I have a reserved scat. One ; should never waste a reserved seat on i an historic occasion. Can you let your- ' self out? I wish I had persuaded you lof my fatherhood before. I think we i ’ would have got on rather well." Lucia walked rather unsteadily to: the door. “I wish—Oh, I don’t know what I j wish she cried suddenly, and ran j out of the room. CHAPTER XXVIII. It was certainly a singular quartet that had been eollected in Greta Mahler’s former sitting-room at the Cosmopolis Hotel. So queer indeed as far as appeaarnces went, that but for the chaperonage, of Detective-Superintend-ent Moresby, it is more than doubtful if the other three would ever have been allowed to remain. It is true, as has been mentioned before, that the Honourable Charles Bland had a "pull" as well as "a way with” the head porters of the more fashionable hotels of the Metropolis. But even the porter of the Cosmopolis —who, believe it or not. has had experiences besides which all the invention of all the writers of fiction pale—was inclined at first sight to draw the line at re-admitting to her room a young lady connected with the stage, who had quitted that room the previous evening, who seemed almost in ai state of collapse, and who was aeeom- ■ panied by two young men, both of; them apparently the worse for wear, and one of them whom he suspected—unjustly, owing to the purler’s lack of experience of the after-effects of gaspoisoning—of being tile worse for drink. . . Moresby actually found the trio in the vestibule. Greta was arguing with the porter. Charles Bland, very grey in the face, was leaning rather helplessly against the back of an armchair,! while Geoffrey Allardyce was hovering;' in the background. “Thank heaven vou're here!" ox- ; I 1 claimed the latter as the massive figure; of the detective appeared through then swing-door. h “How on earth did you work out that j ' you’d find us here?" Moresby grinned. .And there was | something enormously consoling ami : heartening —even to Greta—about that j grin.

“A trifle of that deduction you’re so fond of. Mr. Allardyce." said Moresby, and addressing himself to the porter. That worthy ceased from troubling with a quite remarkable alacrity at sight of Moresby’s official card, and almost before they had realised it. they found themselves all safely escuneed in Greta’s sitting room, and provided with hut coffee anti sandwiches. "Well?’’ demanded Geollrev. “Well," repeated Moresby, blandly enough. There was a little silence. Then Greta burst mto tears. Moresby, surprisingly enough, went across to her and put a large hand on her shoulder. "There, there. Miss Mahler," he said with a sincerity that quite outweighed the inadvqum-y ,-f his words, "you’ve had a trying time of it. know. But yo.u’vc !:■ tiling more to worry about." The girl caught at the lapels of his coat. "You’ie i l( >t going to anvil Geotfrey. I are y. u’.'" she said pitifully •He never lulled Xavier was an accident -- we • “Of cour-i- not," ..nd Moresby, brirquvly I don't want him—l want his information." C.rela st..; i ;,.-<.i c rying Gc’ilrcv stared and Charles Bland laughed a mile hy - <h-> llrt-y. After that I lost hm: Y’ l " ye •■-i;-i ?.>■'iw; by ....iliii;,;!-. it v.U VoU ’J.thi <-'.»*• !>'.<• !< h - Great Se.,t:' lmi ;i ( ; .. u 1( ■ i • ng'- m inv i..,:,d, mv. Then what a:.- y. gmg.g to d.. ’ ' I don’t thud-: 1 need bothci y. v. i'. 1 . share. Y’uti stay and care > I i;. ,■ .ji ..... .....i ( . • lamer A: ■ | • th..:.;., d .‘

' "Mr. Bland." he said, "there’s no time ; for me to go into explanations and i such. As you’ve said, today is the day. ' and I've plenty of work to do. But i there’s no particular mystery about the j chauffeur. Casimir Konski had a very • mixed bag of desperadoes working for : him—and at some time he must have i let it drop that the prince was on no : account to be allowed to leave London | without a showdown. That murder was . regular dago-work—the knife in the j back under the shoulder-blade. Crooks i always exceed their instructions—that's i how we catch ’em."

He blew his nose resoundingly. "As soon as Miss Lucia turns up." he concluded. "I'll make myself scarce." Geoffrey groaned.

“If she turns up." he said. “That devil Casimir —I daren't think what may have happened to her " “I think you will find that she’ll put in an appearance all right." said Moresby.

And as he spoke the telephone rang. Charles answered it.

"By George, she's here now!" said he. "Precisely."

“Well then—-

“Now listen." said Moresby incisively "I want to say about throe things, and then I'll go. The procession leaves Buckingham Palace at noon precisely.

Miss Mahler and Miss Lucia are to remain here. Mr. Allardyce. I want you to meet me at the Kingsway entrance to Bush House —so that you can identify our scarred friend at the Temple Bar stand —at half-past eleven. Mr. Bland, if you want to be in at the finish, report at New Scotland Yard a little before ten. Your orders will be wailing for you." “Right.” said Charles. “But how are you going to cope with the swine?" asked Geoffrey.

"Just leave that to us .will you?" retorted Moresby. 'Only don't fail to meet me. That's vital." And he went out of the room, only pausing to shake hands rather clumsily and absurdly with Lucia as she came in.

The four gazed awkwardly at each other. Each of them was thinking much the same thing: that they had travelled an astonishingly long distance in an incredibly short time. But, that generalisation aside, Lucia was thinking of her father; Greta was thinking of Geoffrey; Charles was thinking that when it came to an early morning aften an emotional and physical crisis it was amazing how much better a brunette stood up to it than any blonde however good-looking; and Geoffrey was realising with a sort of bewildered happiness that ho did not care tuppence about murder-plots, or the death of Xavier, or the fact that he was unshaven and grubby, or indeed about anything, if only Greta would go on looking at hint like that, when she did not know that ho could see that she was looking at him.

It was Geoffrey who spoke first, and he spoke to Lucia. "Can you forgive me?" he said, "for leaving you in the lurch like that’.’"

"1 think so.” she answeit’d quietly and turned to Charles.

"Oddly enough. I feel hungry." she went on. “I think I'd like to have breakfast down in the restaurant — if your reputation will stand it!” "It will stand it." said Charles, "if I have to prop it up!" “But Lucia ” Greta began breathlessly. "N<>t now. darling. See you later.” “But I don’t understand.” “Y’ou will." said Lucia. And she took Charles by the arm and leii him into the corridor. Behind them they left a silence only to be termed tremendous. “Greta.” "Geoffrey." "My darling!" “Greta, my sw<-»-t! Does this really mean that we’re going to live happy ever after?" • Yes—O yes!" “And yrni don’t believe that I She pu'. a hand over his bps. “Were never going to think abou’ that again—-it's just one of those nightmares which made me erv when I v.;r a child.” “Greta dear - I h-ve v,,u so much " j “I know." “And you’.”’ ’ Of uoiin e “ The perfection of that .-xquisiw' moment was :m rc;!<-- |y violated by the telepiu ne bell “Mr. Allardyce’.'" Y’e:-." “Moresby speaking—sorry to worry; you I want you pl, , r; ,. j Th.- er,.waN m the streets are terrific I I daren’t risk v.,.ir g.-.mm held up’ ■ “ "High: y.-u ar.-, Moresby - Geoffrey rang off He turned to f: c<- j Grcui. wide-eyed cheeks • hands shaking a< she lifted them :< cut- ht L.er p•< • **)-?'•’ He e.';dd b.'.u’ e. h/J; ; in y rt*■ *a.;: .c,: ( ’i-a’ It Bku ; d ajul Ima T u’r<’ e’. v V ijo; r;<., .**>♦’ V AHar-’ ‘ I f.'i'’ '*■- -■ 4 ■ f’H(Ta be O nUnuedh