THE Twelfth Crime A Mystery of Modern London

Sun (Christchurch), Volume I, Issue 132, 10 July 1914, Page 11

THE Twelfth Crime A Mystery of Modern London

i f ■ ... . 3y SETON GROSS . Author of " The Stolen Governess,', " Queen of the Ballet, "The Mill Girl's Secret," etc.

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PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS. OLIVE BOYD, ward of Peter Holgate, a retired contractor, who lives at Chapham. DAVID M'EWAN, proprietor of a curio shop. M'Ewan is dibcovered brutally murdered in his room. FRANK .GORING, M'Ewan's assistant, who falls deeply in love with Olive Boyd. He discovers by means of a cypher that M'Ewan's housekeeper has a son, and that, Treversh is .that spn. PHILLIP WHEELER, reporter on the ''Evening Record," with a reputation fdr "snfielling out" sensations. The journalist discovers a woman's lace handkerchief behind a Buddha iti the old man's shop. The handkerchief was marked "0 Boyd." Wheeler discovers <rom M'Ewan's old housekeeper, Martha Pattinson, that both Olive Boyd and Treversh had visited M'Ewan previous to the murder. TREVERSH, a saturnine individual, a friend ot Olive, whom Wheeler detects peering out of the side door in M'Ewan's shop. He hopes to marry Olive.

. CHAPTER XX. HEARD THROUGH THE GRATING. For some considerable time after Wheeler's acute analysis of Peter Holgate's story neither he nor paring Spoke. Both were occupied with their, own thoughts, though in different ways. : ■Goring's were mainly retrospective, and he sought rather to find explanations for past event's than to deviseiflans for meeting possible fresh ones. He was not of that intellectually V1 | 0r "; cms tvpe which, seizing upon some fact or probability, forces the topical developments and schemes to forestall them. Left to himself, he resorted to the commoner and clumsier method or awaiting.for things to happen, and then, if they proved contrary to his hopes and wishes, seeking some way to remedy or frustrate them. The journalist's thoughts, on the othfer hatid, were constructive and anticipatory. Past events were only of value to him in so far as they assisted liiin to foresee future developments, on the principle that like causes produce like effects.

Though he was probably unaware of it himself, Wheeler, was approaching the problem of . Olive's disappearance in juuch the name manner that a mathematician approaches a difficult algebraical (equation. Certain things were known *nd certain things had to be found out, and only by careful study of the former eould he hope to arrive at any satisfacpory conclusion with regard to the lat-

•ter. The difficulty in his case was that instead of dealing with units of definite value he was dealing with human beings, influenced in every act by evervarying motives and passions. ' 1 It seems to me,'' he said at. last, i i that we nlust keep watch on the house at Camden Town. At least, you must, for I can't leave this confounded room for some days." "But surely the first, thing is to find Olive," objected Goring;. "Precisely my idea, too; but it's no use rummaging about in a haphazard fashion on the off-chance of picking up a clue. Let's follow up some definite, plan of action." ( "I don't see how we're going to form, a definite plan. We haven't the faint-i est idea of where Olive is, unless, as! you suggested, she's concealed in thei house."

"I didn't really mean that seriously," answered the journalist, with a laugh. '' The objections to it are too obvious. But, granting Olive has been got out of the way, what is the most likely thing that Holgate and Treversh would do with her, bearing in mind the important fact that Treversh intends to marry her?" "Send her into the country," suggested Goring. "Very likely, but the country's a big place, and we can't very well search it. It may help us a bit, though, if we assume that she's in charge of a woman." "Come to that, you might as well assume she's in charge of Treversh." . "Not a bit of it, my son. Treversh,; whatever he may be in reality, is de-j sirous of conforming outwardly to the; dictates of his! immunity from suspieiou largely depends upon that. Look at his trim, modest villa, his neat clothes, his unostentatious, if somewhat irritating, manner. He must not, for his own sake, offend the canons of convention. We may also dismiss any idea of Olive being placed in charge of a man other than a relative, since Treversh would certainly not permit that." "Possibly you're right, Phil," replied the other, thoughtfully, '' but it doesn't get us very much nearer a solution of the problem." "At any rate, it narrows the field of our enquiry,'' went on the, journalist. "Now, if I thought that Treversh trusted Holgate implicitly, I should favour the notion that Olive had been sent up to the old man's native town and was being looked after by some elderly relative. But I don't believe

,that. Treversh .does trust him. We know that he used threats towards the old chap, and it's seldom one trusts a person one's threatened." '' Then that leaves us with the other alternative —-a woman." .

"Exactly, and, pursuing the argument, what more likely than that Olive should have sent to Martha? She's Treversh's mother; he ean trust her; and, what's more, she's as close as an tyster." Goring, who would have been quite incapable of weighing the motives and antagonisms of the two men as Wheeler had done, was quick enough to follow the latter's argument when it was explained to him bit by bit. "There's no doubt about it," he exclaimed, enthusiastically. '' Olive's with Martha at Camden' Town;"

"Don't be too sure of anything," replied the other, warningly,: "or you'll come a cropper. There is always plenty of room for doubt in a case like this; all we can do is to adopt what seems the most reasonable course." "I.believe we're on the right track." '' So do I,'' answered Wheeler, ' (and, anyhow, we can't be far off it. Now you must go to Camden Town, watch the house, and try to find out whether the girl's there. If she is, you may have an opportunity of letting her know you're about, though I don't think that's at all likely. Above all things, don't let Martha or Treversh see you." "I'll start at once,'' said Goring, jumping to his'feet. "The sooner I'm on the-spot the better." It was nearly 7 o'clock when he reached Camden Town, and the evening was already drawing in. He walked past the house where he had seen Martha, and noticed that there were no lights except in the downstairs room; as the blinds were drawn lie could get no glimpse within. Nothing was to be gained by merely loafiag about in the neighbourhood, so he started to reconnoitre. The garden at the back of the house, he discovered, abutted directly on the piece of enclosed park whence he had watched earlier in the day, while the walls, though. topped with broken glass, did not appear excessively high. In a few moments he had decided on a plan. The public garden was still open, though, as it was drawing near the time when the gates would be locked, there was nobody about except, two or three courting couples. He went in and, awaiting a favourable opportunity, crouched down behind a thick dump of evergreens, where he would escape the observation of the attendant when the latter came round to lock the gates. Then, with no one to question or interrupt him, he could scale the wall of "Mr Beamish's" house .and drop into the garden on the other side. About half an hour later . Goring heard the bell which warned people that .the grounds were about to be closed, and saw the attendant pass by with his keys. But it was still too light to put his plan into execution, and, being cramped; amidst the bushes, he longer as fervently for night to come as did Wellington on a certain historic occasion. At last, after what seemed hours of weary waiting, he decided that he might make the attempt in comparative safety. Creeping from his hiding-place, he took off his coat, flung it over" the garden wall to serve as a protection against the broken glass, and then prepared to climb over. The task, howlever, proved much more difficult than he anticipated, for the top of the wall

was just beyond his reach, and there were no crevices in the brickwork to offer the slightest foothold. At last, after several failures and with enough noise, he feared, to rouse a graveyard, he succeeded in reaching the top of the wall, though not before his hands and knees were severely cut, his -coat having proved a very inadeauate shield against the fragments of glass.He dropped down on the other side instantly, for fear that he should be seen silhouetted against the sky, and and remained quite still for some moments. Apparently the noise of his cljmbing. had not . reached the ears of anyone within the house, for. everything was as silent as ever. Before he could go. any farther, however, he had to. tear his handkerchief into strips and bind up two nasty gashes',which were not pnly very: painful, but also troublesome owing to profuse bleeding.. This done, lip crept fprward cautioas : ly in the direction qf the house. now. he was not quite clear as..to what he should do when he reached it. He stopped once or twice to listen, but there, was no sound save tljat which lie made himself, and the house —rfrom this side, at all events —-was in dark J ne^s.

For the first time since he set out on his adventure fear assailed him —the fear that everyone had left the place and that, despite all his trouble, his errand would prove fruitless. Stiil, it would not do to give up yet, he reflected, ard moved forward again. Suddenly he T stood stock-still, as the sound of voices—a man's and'a woman's—reached his ears.

For a few seconds Goring stared about him in the darkness, utterly bewildered. The sound came, not from the house itself, apparently, nor even from the garden, but right under his very feet! There could be no mistake, for the nearest window was still some distance away and there was no trace of a light within. He dropped on his hands and knees, determined to try and solve the mystery, and, to his astonishment, the voices became plainer still. With a vague idea that he must be immediately over some underground chamber, he felt about with his hands, thinking to find a trapdoor or other entrance, when suddenly his fingers came in contact with something which felt like an an iron grill. In a flash he understood.

Concealed in the rank grass was a ventilator grating, evidently connected; with the room, the windows of which: looked out upon the garden. It was! clear, therefore, that the sound of the occupants' voices was carried through the sliafe, much in the same way as though it were a speaking tube. Could the speakers be sitting in the dark? he wondered. He went closer to the window, and then saw , that there were heavy wooden shutters closed across it on the inside, and these, no doubt, effectually prevented any light from getting through. ! This discovery, though of no particular significance, strengthened Goring's beiief that Olive was really in the house. If sheiwefe not, he argued, why should Treversh take such precautions to prevent anyone looking inside? The shutters, too, might, be an additional safeguard against people outside catching any sounds from within, for the tell-tale ventilator was the sort of thing which would naturally be overlooked, even by the most careful perAt any rate, whatever might be.the motive, that did not concern him now.

He must try antl catch the ; drift of the conversation going on inside, for so far he had been able only to assure himself that the speakers were a man and a woman. , _ What if they were Olive and Treversh? He lay down' at full length on the grass and placed his ear against the giating. At first the sounds seemed incoherent. as though both speakers were frying to talk at once, and for a little which Goring was unable to distinguish the man from the woman. Presently end of the two relapsed into temporary silence, and then he recognised Martha's voice, raised in shrill tones. "What did you want to be such a long time for?" she ■ asked, angrily. "What have you done?" , There was a .sound as of a kaife and fork at work on a plate, and Martha repeated her in a more strident voice. , •, "Let me get my food in peace,; came the impatient answer; "I'm starving. I'll tell you all afterwards." It was Treversli! '' You can tell me > while you 're eat ing," said the old woman. ■ f < Well, •' answered her son, '' I met Holgate again, and we decided the best thing was to get the girl out of the way. Give me some more tea.," There was a rattle of crockery as Martha supplied his wants. Treversh's statement puzzled Goring. How, he wondered, had Holgate contrived to communicate ,with the scoundrel, and when? ."What then?" asked Martha.

"The old fool wouldn't hear of it; but —well,. I 've got an argument or two that'll beat down any of his objections." . There was a burst of laughter in which both joined.. ; "We had a bit of trouble with the girl herself at first," went on Treversh. "We got her off all right at last, though." "No one saw her?" "Not a soul. I took good care of that,'' came the answer. '' Those two clever young fools next door are none the wiser." "What about the newspaper man?" asked Martha, and there was a note of real malice in Treversh's voice as he replied: "He's safe enough. I heard that he got knocked over the head last night. I wish it had killed him. He's out of the way for the present." . "Where did you take Olive?" was the old woman's next question. '' To the last place in the world that anybody would dream of suspecting,'' answered the man, with a firm laugh. "You've not ''

At, that moment a dog in the room whined, and Goring was alarmed, for the sound was so near and distinct that it seemed not unlikely that the animal had scented him through the shaft. It was not impossible if the inside ventilator were near the floor of the room, and there was a good draught, as was probably the case. There,was silence for a moment, and then the dog began to bark lou<lly ami insistently. "What's the matter with tlie brute?' Goring heard Martha say. "Anybody about?" she asked anxiously, lowering her voice. , . There came a noise as of a chair being pushed back, and then Treversh spoke. "I'll go and see/' was all he said. But Frank shivered at the tone in which lie uttered those four words. (To be continued to-morrow.)