The Vengeance of Larose

I—The Mystery of Marle House-1

I—The Mystery of Marle HouseOne evening, just as dark was falling, in a many-windowed room of a long, low building standing within the shelter of a cliff high up on a lonely mountainside, were seated three men. The building was the only structure in that profound solitude, and was so high and so far removed that from the habitations in the village below it required a good pair of binoculars to pick up with any accuracy the beginning of the winding road which led up to it.

The three men were talking earnestly and, although they must have been aware that by no possibility could they be overheard, their voices, as if from force of habit, were pitched in low tones.

"And with all their hypocritical diplomatic correctness," scowled one of them who, from his bearing, appeared to be in authority, "they are allowing their press to become more and more insulting to us every day. Were we not referred to last week as a gang of blackmailers with the morality of a pack of thieves?"

"That is so, Your Excellency," nodded the suave, good-looking man, seated opposite to him, "and it was said, too, that most of us ought to be behind asylum bars."

"But that's mild compared with a letter which appeared in the 'Daily Messenger'," boomed the third man, big and stout, with dark, piercing eyes under very bushy brows. "The writer said Your Excellency was an unbalanced mental degenerate and that you had degraded our race to the level of a band of thugs. He said you were teaching the people that wholesale murder and pillage should be their national ideals and he went on——"

The face of the one they had addressed as Your Excellency reddened in anger; and he interrupted sharply. "And there are two members of their Cabinet, particularly, who are responsible for allowing all this. Lord Michael and Sir Howard Wake. They have repeatedly defended this venomous, so-called freedom of the press." He turned frowningly to the good-looking man. "You have made representations about it many times, von Ravenheim?"

"I have, Your Excellency," was the reply, "but it has not done the slightest good. As for these two men, in every way they continue to be our greatest stumbling block. They are——"

"I know, I know," exclaimed His Excellency testily. "Their influence in that cursed country of theirs is continually thwarting our plans. More than anyone, it is they who are keeping Britain in her present state of preparedness."

The stout man spoke again. "Since Lord Michael has been at the War Office," he commented, "they never sleep, and Sir Howard is a man of untiring energy and of great vision, too." He nodded. "Yes, as Your Excellency says, at the present moment they are more to be feared than anyone."

His Excellency spoke scornfully. "Then is it in accord with our general policy to let these two men stand in our way any longer? We should have no scruples at all how we deal with them, for we are as much in a state of war with England now, as if we were nightly bombing her cities into dust." His eyes flashed. "The whole world knows our open hostility is only a question of our choosing our own time, when we can catch them unawares."

A short silence followed and then von Ravenheim said slowly. "For many months now we have been searching for some means of discrediting these two men, and have, accordingly, gone most minutely into their private lives. But we can find no scandal anywhere, and——"

"Find no scandal!" scoffed the other contemptuously. "That's not what you must do! Have them shot! Pay someone to put a bullet in them! That's the only way of settling things; for at all costs we must prevent Lord Michael from going to New York next month. We can't have those muddle-minded Americans stirred up again."

Von Ravenheim looked uncomfortable. "But the risks would be terrible, Your Excellency. Their deaths by violent means would shock the whole world, and if there is the slightest suspicion against us, we——"

"But there mustn't be the slightest suspicion," was the angry interruption, "and there is no reason there should be. Why, only last week I read that that precious member of Parliament of theirs, Sir Derek Sandy was processioning with thousands of other fools to protest against the moneys which were being spent upon defence and, in the speeches which followed, it was insisted that Lord Michael and Sir Howard, more than any other members of the Cabinet, were responsible. Well then, why shouldn't it be thought that some of this peace-loving horde had shot them to save greater bloodshed?"

"It will be most difficult to arrange, sir," said von Ravenheim reluctantly. "They are always so well-guarded, wherever they go."

The other looked amused. "Pooh, by two or three fat policemen in private clothes. I saw their kind twenty years ago when the then Prince of Wales was visiting Cannes. They looked like superannuated butlers, full of English beef and beer, amiable unsuspicious creatures with no imagination. No, go to that man in Great Tower street we are having dealings with. Pay him well—give him £10,000—and there should be no difficulty. Give him part of the money down. He seems reliable and has always delivered the goods up to now."

"Very well, Your Excellency," said von Ravenheim. "I'll approach him myself."

"Good!" said his superior. He turned to the third man. "Don't you think this the best way of dealing with the matter, General?"

"Certainly, sir," replied the stout man, "and if they do suspect we've had a hand in it, their Government will never dare to say so." He guffawed hoarsely "They may have stiffened their backs a bit lately but they still think they can buy us off by being polite. They bleat like the lamb in the presence of the wolf."

A short silence followed and then the man who had been so peremptorily issuing his orders leaned back in his chair and laughed softly. "And now I'm going to surprise you, gentlemen. I'm going to give you a great shock." He paused a moment to enjoy the puzzled expressions upon the faces of his audience, and then rapped out, "I'm going over to England myself! I'm going to see this wonderful London of theirs, incognito."

A deep hush filled the room von Ravenheim screwed up his eyes and turned his head sideways, as if he were rather deaf and had not caught the words aright, while the general's lips parted and he stared hard and incredulously.

"Yes," went on His Excellency quietly, "I have never seen this country which is now so occupying all our thought, and it has been long in my mind that I would like to go there." His voice rose passionately. "I want to visit their London before it is destroyed. I want to see their beautiful old buildings before they are in ruins, and I want to mix among their crowds and get their mentality first-hand before they are a conquered people." He pointed to a row of books upon a shelf. "So with that idea in my mind. I have been at work upon their dreadful language for more than six months, I have had three English tutors here, and can now talk quite quickly with this last one, and understand everything that he says." He laughed lightly. "Well, what do you think of it, my friends?"

Von Ravenheim shook his head emphatically. "It is impossible, sir."

"Impossible! But I intend to do it!"

"It would stagger the world!"

"But the world will know nothing about it. I shall go straight to London as a private individual, and no one but you two will be aware that I have left our country. As you know, I speak French fluently, so I shall pass as a Swiss. I shall be absent for only a few weeks, and it will be given out I am still on holiday here. You, von Ravenheim, will find me a quiet hotel in London, and I shall keep in touch with you all the time, in case anything should happen which I must deal with at once."

"But your face, sir!" protested von Ravenheim. "It is one of the best known in the world. You will be recognised at once."

His Excellency shook his head. "No, that is not likely, for I intend to shave off my moustache; and, in civilian clothes, I shall appear just like any ordinary citizen of our country. If anyone does happen to remark upon the resemblance between the sight-seeing Herr I shall then be, and the person I really am—they will only regard it as a joke. They will know it is impossible we can be one and the same person."

"But what about those tutors who have been teaching you English?" asked von Ravenheim uneasily. "Can you trust them?"

"I don't," laughed the other, very amused, "and have accordingly taken all the necessary precautions. Numbers 1 and 2 have gone upon a long journey, and No. 3 will soon join them." He spoke carelessly. "What do three lives count in times like these?"

General Meinz cleared his throat. "I don't approve your going, sir," he began, "and I——"

"Then I must do without your approval," was the smiling comment, "for I am determined to go." He rose to his feet to cut short the interview. "So both of you will return here on Sunday. Then I will make known my final arrangements;" and, with a wave of his arm, he dismissed the two men who clicked their heels, and after a solemn salute left the room.

* * *

Now there would seem to be no possible connection between the great autocrat of that lonely building upon the mountainside and an insignificant looking little convict in a prison in far off England. Yet, at that very moment Fate, like a malignant spider, was starting to weave a web whose threads were destined ultimately to entangle them both.

Gilbert Larose, the one-time international detective, and now the husband of the wealthy widow of Sir Charles Ardane was holding a brief conversation in the foyer of a big London restaurant with Brigadier-General Haines the governor of one of England's largest penal settlements.

"And you are the very man I wanted to meet, Mr. Larose," exclaimed the Brigadier genially, "for, as a former associate of the criminal classes, you can now, perhaps, do one of their order a good turn!"

"Oh," smiled Larose. "What's the idea? Do you want me to arrange the escape of some poor devil who's suffering under your tender mercies?"

"No, there's happily no need for that," laughed the Brigadier, "as the man comes out on ticket of leave next week. He's been my guest for just over six years and now has to face the world again, with not a friend or a relative to look after him I want you to get him a job."

"Who is he and what's he in for?" asked Larose. "The crowd at your place are generally a tough lot, and I draw the line at gentlemen who have been scotched for crimes of violence."

"Well, he's by name of Bracegirdle, and he got ten years for shooting a gamekeeper. He was caught red-handed in Lord Jevington's preserves, and put up a fight to escape arrest. In the struggle his gun went off and the gamekeeper was killed. Of course, Bracegirdle says it was accidental; and the jury were obviously inclined to believe him, as they added a strong recommendation to mercy. From what I've seen of him, I, too, believe he was speaking the truth, as he's not vicious by nature. He was just a man bursting with energy; and his poaching was only an adventure."

"What was his occupation before it happened?"

"He was a motor mechanic, and, at the trial, his employers came forward and gave him an excellent character."

"Hum!" remarked Larose. "I happen to know a relative of my wife is looking for a good man for his motor launch. Well, when could I see this chap?"

"Why not run down tomorrow? It would only take you a couple of hours, and if you show interest in the man it may be the salvation of him. He's just in that state of mind when he might easily drift into a life of crime, and I want to prevent that. He's very bitter against everyone, and says he did not have a fair trial. He is sure it was Lord Jevington's influence that got him convicted on the major charge. Yes, you come down to lunch tomorrow and I'll give you some Barsac that will be well worth the journey. Can you manage it?" and Larose, moving off to greet two ladies who had just entered the foyer, nodded an affirmative reply.