HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times-Advocate, 1933-11-02, Page 6THE EXETER TIMES-ADVOCATETHURSDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1933
I TINY CARTERET I
The beer came and, with great ra
pidity, was gone, And after awhile
Tiny began to feel drowsy. Period
ically a car passed along the hot,
airless street, but of the big Renault
there was no sign. And with in
cerasing frequency his head fell for
ward as he dozed. Which perhaps
was just as well for his peace of
mind. For had he been his usual
alert self he might have noticed a
strange phenomenon in the window
of a house some thirty yards away.
For curtains do not move suddenly
when there is no wind unless some
one is touching them. And had that
elementary fact penetrated Tiny’s
brain, he might have seen a small
object which lay on the sill, circul
ar and black: an object which bore
a strange resemblance to the muzzle
of a gun when pointed at the ob
server. And had he got as far as
that he might have looked even
closer. In which case he might
have caught a glimpse through the
opening of the curtains of a black-
bearded face peering motionless
and patiently over the sights of a
rifle. And the analogy of the tiger
and the goat might have struck him
unpleasantly. But none of these
things happened: he dozed.
A hand on his shoulder awoke him
with a start: the hotel proprietor
was standing at his side.
"Monsieur,” he said gravely, "I
fear I have some bad news for you.
Is your name Carteret?”
“It is,” said Tiny, getting up.
"What’s the matter?”
•And then he noticed that behind
the speaker a monk was standing.
"There has been an accident, sir,
a bad accident.”
With a gesture he indicated the
monk.
"My son,” said the latter in a deep
voice, "you must prepare for a shock
Early this morning there were
brought to the monastery two men
and two women. One of the men
was dead, and one of the women: the
others were badly injured. It ap
peared that their car had overturned
at a dangerous corner, and fallen
some thirty feet into a ravine. Two
hours ago the injured lady recover
ed consciousness. She could barely
speak, but she kept saying, ‘Monsieur
Carteret, Brigue. Monsieur Carteret,
Brigue.’ So the Brother in charge
sent me to see if I could find you.”
"Get a car quick,” said Tiny curt
ly.
“My son,” answered the monk,
"we have a car at the monastery. It
is outside now.”
"What about a doctor?”
“A doctor is with her now.”
"Is there no hope?”
The monk crossed himself.
“It is in the hands of le bon Dleu.
Come: the car is on the other side of
the hotel.’
Almost stunned by the unexpect
edness of it, Tiny followed the monk
Mary dying: the thing was impos
sible.
"But how did it happen?” he cried
distractedly.
Laboriously the monk wound up
an ancient Fiat, and climbed in.
“On the road to Gletsch, my son,
are many dangerous' turnings. More
over, in places it i3 very narrow.
Last night in the mountains there
was rain, and one stretch In particu
lar became greasy. It was there
that it happened. The car must have
skidded: that is all we can think.”
"Can’t you get some speed out of
this cursed machine?” muttered Tiny
"My son,” said the other gently,
"we are only a poor order. What
little we have is given to les pauvres
—not used in buying a new car.”
"Sorry,” grunted Tiny. "Only, you
see I happened to be engaged to the
lady. Do we pass the place where
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the accident occurred?"
"No. It is a mile beyond our
doors. The villagers carried the
bodies to us.”
They drove in silence, till they
came to a place like the side of a
cliff, up which the road zigzagged.
And it was when they were half way
up that, looking down, Tiny saw be
low them another car with a solitary
man in it. The driver’s face was
hidden by his hat, but a glance told
him that the car was a Landa, and
therefore .capable of some three
times the speed of his present con
veyance.
"There’s a man behind us in a
fast car,” he said, "Do you mind
if I ask him for a. lift when he over
takes us?”
“Certainly,” answered the monk.
"I understand what you must be
feeling. We will stop him when he
passes us.”
But though Tiny, glancing back
from time to time, could see the
other car it never appeared to get
any closer. The driver seemed to be
deliberately regulating his speed by
the Fiat, and after a while he re-
signd himself to his present convey
ance. And then, at last, when he
felt he could bear it no longer, his
companion spoke.
"Nearly there,” he said. "That
building on the left is* the monas
tery.”
Tiny took a deep breath: in a few’
moments now he would know the
worst. Was she still alive? Was
there any hope? With a .creaking of
brakes the car pulled up, and he
dashed to the door. ■
"Patience, my son,” said the deep
voice behind him. "We have rules
in our fraternity which must be obey
ed.”
Chafing with impatience Tiny
waited while the monk knocked
three times on the door. And so com
pletely impervious was he to every
thing save the thought of Mary, that
he did not even notice mat the Lan
cia had pulled up some twenty yards
away, while the driver peered under
the bonnet as if to discover some de
fect.
At length a small panel slid back
and he saw a pair of eyes looking at
him. Then his1 .companion said
something in a language he did not
know, anl the door was opened.
"Is the lady dead?” he cried in an
agony of apprehension.
Once again there was a remark in
an unknown tongue, and then the
monk who had driven him turned
to him with a smile.
"No, my son; she is not. And the
doctor is most hopeful, Follow me.
He led the way along a stone cor
ridor, with Tiny at his heels, until
he came to a large vaulted room—a
room which was divided into two
parts by a steel grille.
."Wait here,” he said. "I w,ill
find the doctor, and bring him to
you.”
His footsteps echoed on the stone
flags, till they died away in the dis
tance. Any Tiny, fuming at the de
lay strode up and down the room.
Suddenly he paused. From the di
rection of the front door had come
a short stifled groan. He listened
intently: it was not repeated. And
then, for the first time, he became
aware of the deathly silence of the
place. Not a sound of a voice: not
a sound of any sort. The building
was like a tomb. He walked over
to the steel grille and examined it:
it was let into the stone-work on
each side, and reached right up to
the ceiling. In each half of the
room were a table and a chair, and
he concluded that it must be the
place where the monks interviewed
callers.
He turned around: would the doc
tor never come? A grill similiar to
the one he had been examining was
slowly .closing across the entrance to
the room. For a moment he stood
rigid—too amazed to move: then,
with a shout, he dashed at it. And
even as he reached it, it clanged
home,
He tugged at it desperately: it
was as immoveable as the one in the
centre of the room. And suddenly
he realized the truth: the whole
thing was a trap into which he had
not only walked, but had galloped
at full speed. Instinctively his
hand went to his pocket, and 1/e curs
ed savagely. His revolver was in
his bag at the hotel.
"That simplifies matters, doesn’t
it, Mr. Carteret,” came a sauve voice
and he swung round.
Standing on the other side of the
central grille was another monk—
a monk with pale-blue unwinking
eyes. He was face to face with Za
vier himself.
"Had you had your revolver I
might have had to forego the pleas
ure of a little, chat with you,” con
tinued Zavier genially. Dodging bul
lets in a room like this with nasty
stone walls is not a pastime I care
about.”
“Damn you,” said Tiny between
his teeth. “How is Lady Mary?”
“As far as I know, in the very best
of health,” answered the other. ‘But
whether she is still in Paris, or has
returned home to London I cannot
tell you.”
"So the whole thing has been a
lie from beginning to end.”
A futile rage had seized him,
which even the knowledge that Mary
was safe did little cairn.
"Naturally,” laughed Zavier. ‘But
really, Mr. Carteret, you were a
little too easy.. I mean one does
like a certain amount of run for
one’s money.
“What the devil are you going to
do with me? Murder me, I sup
pose, like the others, you damned
swine.”
“I fear that that is your ultimate
end undoubtedly,” agreed Zavier.
"You see, my dear Mr. Carteret, I
have the gravest objection to people
being at large who know me: or
rather, I might put it, who associate
me with my activities.”
"Get it over with, for God’s sake,”
shouted Tiny. "You can play me
like a setting hen if you want to.”
"True: very true. But at the
moment I don’t want to. As I said
before, I should like a little chat. It
is so rare, Mr. Carteret, that one has
the chance of discussing things with
one’s adversaries in safety. And I
have little pardonable vanity, you
know. Nnow the first time I met
you was in the sleeper just after
that foolish Demeroff had paid the
just pealty for his offence.”
"So you were the monk, were you?
said Tiny, interested in spite of him
self.
"I was the monk. And my object
in visiting your compartment, my
dear fellow, was not, believe me, to
breathe a prayer over the dear de
parted, but to make’ quite sure that'
the right one of you had departed.
By the way, that reminds me. From
information I have received I am
given to understand tnat consider
able doubt exists in the minds of the
authorities as to how these regret
table accidents take, place. Am I
Tight?”
"■Go to hell,” grunted Tiny.
"Well, if you won’t answer, you
won’t. Still, my information is gen
erally reliable. To turn to another
subject. What do you think of this
idea of mine for disguise puproses?
■ You have no idea how free from sus
picion a monk or a nun remains. If
one twiddles a few beads, and mut
ters hoarsely under one’s breath, the
police of two continents hold up the
traffic for you. Besides, on occa
sions, when the attentions of those
who one wishes to avoid become too
pressing, and ports are being watch
ed and things like that, I have found
that little difficulty in prevailing
..pon the master of some small tramp
to smuggle me on board. I plead
'xt.e.ie poverty and thereby touch
his heart. However, I fear I shall
have to adopt something new in the
suture.”
He sighed, and lit one of his little
cigarettes.
"Yes, I shall have to think of
something fresh, I could not destroy
that cassock at the Fifty-Nine Club,
and it can’t be long before your ad-
TONE HP ■
FLABBY MUSCLES
something could be done, but his only
hope lay in keeping cool.
His eyes fell on the table. It was
a big one with a stout top. Suppos
ing he was to use it as a shield. True
it wouldn’t keep out a bullett, but if
Zavier had intended to shoot him
surely he would have done so al
ready. He turned it on its end, and
placed it so that it shielded him from
the aperture. Then getting a chair
he sat own and lit a cigarette. Now at
any rate he only had one opening to
watch—the door in his half of the
room.
The minutes dragged on; the sil
ence seemed to grow more intense.
And after a time a very natural psy
chological reaction set in. He fought
against it, but it became stronger
and stronger till he knew that short
ly he would be unable to resist it.
Wliat was happening on the other
side of the table in that part of the
Toom he could not see? The thought
became a craving: he must know.
He stood up, and moved cautious
ly back from his shield, thereby
bringing more of the room into view
But there was still a large area that
was hidden: to see that he would
have to put his head round the
table. After all, if it had to come,
it had to—and the sooner the better.
He could -not go on for the rest of
time in his present position. And he
had just made up his mind to chance
it, when he heard a peculiar scratch
ing noise. It come from the other
half of the Toom, and for a moment
or two he listened intently.
Suddenly there came a grating
sound, such as a leg of a chair might
make when moved slightly on a
stone floor. And with a pricking
in his scalp Tiny realized that the
crisis was at hand. Somebody or
something was in the room.
Cautiously he approached the
table: to know whot it was had
now become an imperative necessi
ty. He would thrust his head out
quickly, and have a snap look. Then
back again under .cover to form hi^
plan. He did so, only to remain
staring at what he saw.
"Well, I’m damned,” he remark
ed: then he began to laugh. Seated
on the back of the chair with its
head cocked on one side was a small
mnnkey, solemnly waving a toy
Swiss flag, and dressed in a tiny
coat.
"You funny little beast,” he said.
"Where in blazes have you sprung
from?”
Like most men of his type he ador
ed animals, and the ridiculous es-
pect of the situation struck him.
There had he been sheltering behind
heavy, barricades, and the foe turned
out to be a diminutive grey .monkey!
"Come on, you little blighter,” he
cried, holding out his hand, and sud
denly it put the end of the flagpole
in a pocket of the coat so that its
hands were free, ran down the .chair
and came sidling across the floor to
wards him. It got through the
grille with ease, chattering hard.
And he was on the point of stroking
it when there came a frenzied shout
form behind him.
"Don’t touch it. For God’s sake
—don’t touch the monkey. Kick it
away.”
And the voice was the voice of
Ronald Standish.
Sart'led—the monkey paused, and
as if jn a dream Tiny aimed a kick
at it with his shoe. With a startled
squeak of anger it scuttled away,
back through the grille, and still
half dazed with the sudden develop
ment, Tiny saw that Zavier, his face
suffused with rage, had returned.
And then things happened quickly:
so quickly that looking back on it
later Tiny was hard put to it to re
member their exact order. The mon
key darted to Zavier, who had re
moved his monk’s disguise, and
swarmed up one of his legs. Then it
seemed to wave the flag. And the
next instant Zavier was staring at
one of his hands, with terror in his
eyes. On it was a long scratch.
"Come home to roost at last, Za
vier, has it?” cdme Ronald’s quiet
voice. "The reward is just.”
Tiny forced himself to turn round.
Standing in the doorway behind the
grille, in the garb of a monk, was
the man he had believed dead and
buried. (Continued next, week.)
mirable police appreciate its signi
ficance. In fact, I wouldn’t be sur
prised if your friend Mr. Standish
hadn’t spotted the truth before his
regrettable end. Burned to death.
Pood fellow!”
"You nauseating hypocrite,” snarl
ed Tiny. "You know perfectly well
he was not burned to death. You
murdered him, as you murdered
young Denver.”
“Come, come, Mr. Caterert, believe
me you are wrong there. True, the
young man died, but I can assure
you that it was the 'last thing I in
tended. You see, I happened to.
know that you and Standish propos
ed to pay Blake a visit, and it was
for you that the scene was laid. And
then your young frend Denver went
and butted in in front of you.”
"How did you know Standish and
I were going there?”
"My dear sir, you under-estimate
my resources. For what other reas
on would you wire Lady Mary to get
Blake out of his house from eleven j
to one. Useful, that wire—very use
ful. It gave me a specimen of your
of your handwriting, which came in
very handy for my little note to Lady
Mary.”
"Well, you’re damned wrong there
Zavier. Standish wrote that wire,
and signed it with my name.” -
"Dear me! You don’t say so.” lie
seemed genuinely upset. “You can’t
believe how I dislike anything that
savours1 of a blunder. So that letter
to Lady Mary was in Standish’s writ
ing. You surprise me. Why then
did she go to Paris?”
“To try and run you to earth,”
said Tiny savagely. "She knew it was
a trap . . .”
“And she deliberately walked into
it,” said the other with an amused
smile. "Plucky, but foolish. And I
fear rather useless. Well, wliat
message shall I give jstgnor Beren-
dosi from you? strange, isn’t it,
what a lot of trouble has been caus
ed by such s small thing as that.”
With a mocking laugh he held up
the negative, and Tiny looked at it'
moodily. Heavens! what a consum
mate fool he had been. Looking
back now he marvplled how he could
ever have believed me so-called
■clerk’s story in Paris for a second.
And yet, at the time, it had seemed
to ring true. And then the next one ■
about the accident.
"Cheer up, Mr. Carteret,” cried
Zavier. "Admittedly you haven’t
been very bright, but though I say it
myself I am a little bit above your
form. And you have had a charm
ing trip to a very delightful part of
the .country. I shall be leaving you
shortly, and I don’t quite know when
anyone will find your . . . er . . |.
body. You see this place has served
its purpose. From information I have
received Mr. Standish was not the
only person who had located my little
home as being in Switzerand. And
even as near as that, my dear fellow,
is too near for my liking. So you will
soon have the place entirely to your
self.”
"So you definitely mean to kill
me,” said Tiny quietly.
"For what other reason do you
suppose I have gone to the trouble
and worry of bringing you here,”
answered Zavier. "Had I had the
time I should have done it in Lon
don. . But I didn’t: things were get
ting a little too hot. iSo it became
necessary to devise some other meth
od, though I frankly admit I never
dreamed it would come off quite so
successfully as it has. Well, au re
volt, Mr. Carteret. You made me
run very fast at the Fifty-Nine Club,
but I bear you no ill-will.”
With a wave of th<* hand he pass
ed through a door which up till then i
Tiny had not noticed. He left it i
ajar, and Tiny stared at the aper-1
ture fascinated. It commanded the !
Whole of his half of the room, and
it was through there, he felt .certain, j
that death would come.'But how; In
what form. ' |
(Suddenly an overmastering rage
gripped him; lie would not be but
chered like a rat in a trap. He went
to the grille that blocked the door,
and hauled on it with all his great
strength, Unless! the thing wds a
fixture, and he cursed savagely,
Theii he pulled himself together;
was no good losing his head. Surely
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"Minnie, what is a peninsula?”
the teacher disked.
"A rubber neck,” was the quick
response.
"No. no!” corrected the teacher.
“It’s a neck runnhng out to sea.”
"Well, isn’t that a, rubber neck?”