THE Flambards Mystery

Sun (Christchurch), Volume I, Issue 180, 4 September 1914, Page 2

THE Flambards Mystery

By Sir William Magnay, Bt.

" The Maste:

r Spirit." etc,

[copyright.]

CHAPTER VI. (Continued.) v WALLACE RIXON'S STORY. /■Vrr. Rather to my surprise, he did not *|show -the relief at my speech which I './ looked for. gloomily. ;(r * 'You left for town agaiji in the Your uncle told me so," I * argued. • ; A "Ah, he thought I did, but I didn't," CRixon replied. "I. can trust you, Mr Crof ton. My eousin said you would Mstand by and advise me." "Of course I will," I assured him. ; "You may trust me implicitly." "Thanks," lie responded, with a relieved look. "Well, then, I'll tell you just what happened, and how it makes my position precious awkward." He rose and began pacing the room, evidently in sheer inability to face the crisis calmly/ "I came down here to ask my uncle for an allowance,'' lie began, iwith signs ■of fighting against a growing excitement. "NoJ a very unreasonable request," he interpolated, with a deprecating laugh, '' considering he had always led me to believe I was his heir. Well, the old man worked himself , into a raving rage at the idea that I wasn't earning a living—which, in commercial .circles anyhow, Mr Crof ton, isn't such a,n easy matter nowadays. So I had to . "come down to asking him for twenty 'pounds to go on with, but lie would j*ive me only ten. I took the tenner for fear he might change his mind for ■the worse about that, i/.id went off. terribly disgusted with my luck. "Well, I found there were two hours to wait for the next up-train, and that ; a slow one you may imagine I was pretty sick altogether. The , Jiote would not be much-good to me, and, thinking this over, ,1 resolved" to go back and see whethei 1 I'could not ,find my uncle in a better temper, and -get at least a promise »f something more but of him.. rt Accordingly I returned to Flamliards and hung about the garden, irresolute and half afraid to meet the old jnan., / Presently my cousin, Rose, came ' along. We had a talk together, and she .'•said she would go and speak to her ■uncle and see what she could do to '■soften him in my favour. We made an ' engagement .to meet a . couple of hours .later. I hung about for that time, and we were . both punctual at the appointment. •, My cousin told me that Uncle Xmke was obstinate as ever, and,_.for

: i ear of making matters worse by arguing with him, she thought it best to leave him alone on realising.how hopeless it was to try to soften, him then. She advised me to write him a nice . letter in a day or two, preparatory to

Author of " The Heiress of the Season, The Red Chancellor,

nothing else for it, so we presently good-bye.'. Just as we were parting, the old man surprised us; and, as he did not approve of our being on affectionate terms, you may guess the sight of us together was not exactly soothing to him. He sent my cousin off, and bade me come into the house with him.

, "I anticipate*:!® an awful row, but that, our last, interview did not last ten minutes. My uncle was just grimly determined in what he had to say. He told me that he had no time to waste over me, but he would merely .let me know,' once for all, that if I ever came down there again or spoke to my cousin Rose without his permission I should never see another sixpence of his money. With that lie bundled me off, and as it was clearly quite useless to attempt to argue or expostulate with him, I took my departure, with nothing more than a word of protest. "When I had gone a little way towards the railway station in, as. you may imagine, no very enviable state of mind, it occurred to me that there Would be a good while to wait for the next up-train. Something impelled me to turn back towards Flambards; I dare say it was the idea that I might see something of my eousin Rose. It is true our future meetings had been forbidden, but I was just tlren too angry at my uncle's treatment.-to care a snap for his prohibition.. In fact, my attitude of mind was rather defiant than otherwise. So while the time of waiting lasted I hung about the place, without, however, seeing anything/ of Rose, although once I fancied she appeared for a moment at one of the upper windows.

" Well, dusk came on, with the time for my departure if the next train was to be caught, so, shaking my fist at the house, I turned my back on it, and made:£pr. the road. I bad not gone far when I overtook a hurrying man carrying a small leather bag. When we were abreast he turned and enquired whe-* ther was likely to reach the station in time for the 4.44. I told him we should catch it if we didn't loiter, and we walked on together. , * Presently he, asked me if I knew 'old Rixon,' as he called him, and my answer was that I knew something\of him. Perhaps some unavoidable bitterness in my tone led him to think L had not much opinion of the old .man; .ianyhow, he remarked, 'Queer custodier, that., As Irard as nails. I have.j;just repaid him a sum of eighteen liuxidred pcjunds lent oh mortgage, and have had to bring it" in- notes all v the way from Stanbridge. Glad to get rid of the responsibility, I can tell you. You should have seen the old man examine every note as though it was likely to be . a

flash one. And do you suppose he offered me a glass of wine or spirits'? Not lie; nor so much as a cup p±" tea.' " 'I can well believe it,' I said, and turned the subject. '' That's my story, Mr Crofton, and it is good of you to have listened to it so patiently. I caught the 4.44 up to town, only to hear last evening of the terrible deed which must have been perpetrated soon after our departure. Now you can see how I might possibly find myself in a rather awkward, not to say dangerous, position." "I appreciate that, Mr Rixon. Still, it is unlikely that suspicion would in the circumstances point to you for long, You could, no doubt, prove that you actually did travel by the 4.44." "Oh, yes. I and my acquaintance with the'bag were the only passengers from Morningford Road.'' <'' Then I should say you need not worry. The man with the bag was probably the last man, bar the actual murderer, to see your uncle alive." Young Rixon made a rueful grimaqe. "Yes.* It is unfortunate, though, that I overtook him, as it happened, and not he me. I might just as well have started five minutes earlier. Do you think my uncle .was killed for the ready money ? " "It is quite likely. But I have heard nothing as to that. I mean whether the money has been found in the house or not. But the fact that they have got Rolt down here, the smartest detective in the country, investigating the case, is all the better for you, if you have nothing to fear," • I suggested. <' He is not likely to suspect the wrong man. No>w I should advise you to get hold of him and tell him your story as you have told it to me. You_can have nothing to lose by being quite frank. Rolt is no ordinary detective, and won't jump to wrong conclusions." He promised to take my advice without delay, and I rose to go. "I am calling at Morningf ord Place," I said, "and if I hear any news I will let you or Miss Archer know." In the hall Rose Archer waylaid me. I could see that in spite of her deadly anxiety she was at a loss how to question me. ■ "Your cousin has told me his story," I said, answering the pathetic enquiry in her look; "I have given him the best advice I could, and don't see that he has anything to fear." It was good to see the look of inexpressible relief which came into the girl's eyes. ■ ■ ' ou really think that ?'' she asked, brightening. "You don't believe Wallace knew anything about the affair ?" The explanation dawned, upon me of much that had puzzled me in the girl's manner. Nevertheless, the mystery was by no means clear. With an assurance that I saw no reason to suppose her cousin had not told me the truth, I took my leave, glad to have brought her. to a less apprehensive state of mind. But, as I say, the mystery which exercised my thoughts was as great as ever, and before the evening was out a* strange occurrence was - to have the effect of deepening it still further. "; CHAPTER; VIP. '.•; ; ' '*> ' A AT 'JtTRBY 'S v The Jurbys had .me, to Jcome up to tea that afternoon if I had nothing better to do, and consuinihg; curi?osity to keep myself posted with what .was going on determined me to go. For Jurby, who seemed rather a busybody, would probably know as much as,

outside tlie police authorities, was to be known. Also, it would be an opportunity to leave cards after dining there. Accordingly, on quitting the Rectory I took my way towards Morningford Place.

During the short walk my thoughts were naturally busy with what I had just heard. I could now understand Rose Archer's anxiety on her cousin's account. If she w r as in love with him, as might well be, her keen anxiety was easily comprehensible. Had she, I wondered, believed him guilty of the deed? That was not improbable; and in that case she was a girl who, one might feel sure, would be staunch. I could not help agreeing with Mr Wallace Rixon, that his position was un-, enviable enough. Of course, his story as told to me might have been very far from the whole truth; at the same time I was disinclined to conclude that lie had been lying. I wonder how far the astute ]\£r Rolt will accept it, I to myself, as I turned into the drive at Morningford Place. It was now quite dark, and as I drew near the house the streaks and patches of light escaping through chinks in the drawn curtains made a suggestion of inviting clieerihess. On being shown into the drawing room I found the whole house party assembled there with the exception of Mr Errington. The Jurbys greeted me heartily; in fact, showed me more attention than in my more or less Bohemian life I was quite accustomed to. But it was pleasant to forget the chilly darkness without in the warmth and light of that luxurious room, with a blazing fire _at each end, its brilliant lights and cOsily drawn curtains.. I was soon settled down with a refreshing cup of tea, and taking part in the conversation which my entrance had interrupted. The subject was naturally the allabsorbing topic of thg affair at Flambards, and I was scarcely surprised, though perhaps a little concerned, to find the general opinion in the room to be that there was no need to look beyond Wallace Rixon for the author of his uncle's death." Jurby, in his rather big iriahiier, called " upon me 'for my theory, and it seemed rather to astoiiish the company when I declared my very great doubt whether the nephew had anything to do with it. "You have a theory, then, of your own, Mr Crofton," Fitz-Bichard suggested. "I am sUre w'e should like to hear it."

He was, as I have said, a man ■ of rather noticeable appearance;' of a type not uncommon in . the West End; middle-aged,; smartly- dressed, ! exactly a gentleman; at any rate one whose calling was not easy to guess with any certainty. He struck me as being nOt quite the cut of a city man; in Regent Street, where I seemed to have encountered him more than once. I should have set him down as a prosperous moneylender, , a theatrical speculator, a smart betting man, a sleeping partner in a successful shop, certainly a lounger with a touch Of man-of-the-world viciousness, and one who had rather more than casual acquaintance with the seamy side of London life. His" speech was rather studied; lie pronouneed his weirds with a deliberate carefulness which caused me to doubt the depth of his education. I replied to his question by saying thkt Wallace Rixon had' arrived in Morningford, that I had just come from an interview with him, 'and my impression'was that he had no guilty cognisance of the deed at Flambards.

'' You didn't expect him to take you into his confidence and make a confession, did you?'Fitz-Richard remarked with something like , a sneer, and I noticed he looked objectionably sinister when he sneered. ' '

! "I aim not going so muck by what young Eixon told me, "I replied, ''as by the opinion his appearance and manner enabled me to form of his character. I can't convey this to you who have not seen him, but can only say-1 shall be very much surprised if he turns out to be the guilty party." "We shall see," Jurby observed, with an .air resting confidently upon his own theory. De la Oour cut in. " You are faced by this difficulty. If it was not this Wallace Eixon, where are you going to look for the guilty one?" ' • That,'' observed Jurby, ' 1 of course is' the difficulty. The old man lived alone with his niece; No one, so far as . the police can ascertain, went near the house that evening except a Mr Finching, who went to pay Exxon a sum of money, and whose movements can.presumably be accounted for. Now the nephew was known to be in the neighbourhood; it , can be proved, I gather, that he left by the 4.44 train that afternoon.'' •He admitted that to me himself," I put in. Jurby shrugged. "One can't help thinking appearances are against him. Let us hope he will be able to clear h'imself from suspicion, but at present it looks as though an ugly case could be made out. At least, I fancy, the police hold that opinion." "Is that Eolt's opinion, Mr Jurby?" I asked. Jurby, who was lighting a cigarette, started round and looked at me keenly. "Bolt?" he repeated in a curious tone of incredulity. "What has Rolt got to do-with it? How should " "Isn't he here? Hasn't he the case in hand?" I replied, wondering whether my informant at '' The George'' might not have been mistaken. Jurby was no longer looking at me, but from Fitz-Bichard to Be la Oour. "Bolt, here?" he said. Then, in a more casual tone to me, "You mean the well-known detective?" "Yes. I may be wrong, but I understood he was here." "By Jove!" Sir Albert exclaimed. "He's a good man. He'll get to the bottom of the mystery if anybody can." Jurby now lighted his cigarette, which act my remark had hindered, and settled himself at ease again. "Why, what made you think Bolt was here?" lie asked me casually. All the late flash of excitement had left his tone. * "A man was pointed out to me at 'The George' as Mr Eolt." Jurby was silent for a moment, then jerked back his head with a simple "Oh?" "This is interesting," Fitz-Bichard observed. "What sort of man was he?" I described liim. But my questioner made no comment, or suggestion that he recognised the detective from my portrait. "Curious," remarked Jurby reflectively, "that the fact of his being here was not mentioned to me to-day. I was up at Flambard's this morning, and had a long ('jack with my friend Sergeant Weaver. ' He spoke in a rather aggrieved tone, as though calling upon his friends to bear witness to his unfair treatment. De la Cour had risen and was pacing the room, smoking his cigarette in short, sharp puffs." "I can hardly believe," he said with his foreign accent, and speaking in a tone which seemed, absurdly enough, to be one of sarcastic annoyance. "I can hardly believe that they would bring &

genius like the great Mr Rolt down to an obscure place like this to unravel a case which so far looks plain enough." "I was told," I said, "that Bolt happened to be in this part of the country, enquiring into a big robbery of jewels which took place about a week ago not far from here." - - "So!" De la Cour ejaculated. "You seem to want exercise," Jurby said to the Frenchman, who was still restlessly walking up and down. 'Would you like to come for a turn before dinner?" De la Cour gave a short laugh and sat down suddenly. "Yes in the snow?" he returned in the same nettled tone. "It is not snowing, is it?" Jurby replied, going quickly to the window and thrusting aside the heavy curtain. Almost simultaneously with the swift action, he uttered a sharp exclamation.; "There is someone outside there!" he ; cried. Then, almost before I could, realise what was happening, he let fall" the curtain, turned and made a rush to. the door. At his cry Fitz-Richard and De la Cour had instinctively, as it were, jumped up and. followed, the three men reaching the door almoist together. Next moment Sir Albert Woodville and I were left alone with the three ladies. They had risen from their seats, and were no'fr standing with faces expressive of varying stages of alarm. I don't suppose my nerves are abnormally strong, but the whole proceeding seemed to me "highly absurd. "Surely there is nothing to be alarmed about," I said reassuringly. '' Oh, no. But one gets so nervous with these horrible things happening at one's very door," Mrs Jurby replied, with what seemed a fairly successful effort to master her fear. The reticent and statuesque Madame De la Cour seemed to have a strong tendency to hysterics. ' 1 Tees horriddark country places," she almost moaned. '' zey are enof to mak' anyone fearful." And in ,her agitation she took up her husband's late fit of restlessness, and began walking about the room. I was curiously watching Mrs Erringjton, whom of the three I knew the best. She showed the least agitated •. exciteiment of them all, yet I could see she iwas struggling with a sharp —and to me unaccountable—fear. She caught my'j eye, and forced-a laugh. - ! "I hope there is Mot someone going about this* charming {Morningibrd in evening'killing people," She said, ''wit# an affected shudder. , r "A mania.c perhaps;" Madame De la Cour suggested. "More likely one of the gardeners," Sir Albert remarked. ' f Mrs Jurby held' up-her hand, and we all kept silence for a few moments and listened. Nothing was to be heard. Then there came, just audible, a sharp sound, like the faint report of a firearm. "Ah!" From one. of, the wonien came affright--' eiied'exclamation.' J "I will go and see what is happening,' ' I said, hurrying to the door. "No, no, Mr "'Ofof tori!" Mrs Jurby cried apprehensively ; but I iofot to be staged, and Went out into'the hall, and so to. the front door. . As I reached it there were sounds of footsteps on the gravel and of men talking in low voices. 'The three were returning indoors. ! ' " Was anything wrong? Did : you see the fellow?" I enquired, takings a step outside. .. The three men were coming quickly towards me, De la Cour slightly in front of the others. At the sight of me he turned quickly round to Jurby, who was then jugt. opposite the drawing-room iwindows. , The* curtain which he had pulled aside had fallen, leaving a gap through which the light streamed out. It shone at this moment on something bright in Jurby's hand, an object which, as De la Cour turned to him, he hastily thrust into his pocket. • But hot before I had seen what it was. A revolver. (To be Continued.)