THE SILK ENIGMA

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 58, Issue 40, 26 November 1937, Page 3

THE SILK ENIGMA

ij By J. R. WILMOT |i

gj g I; :: SERIAL STORY :: ij

Copyright :: ;! S 3 S 3

CHAPTER XXII. Upper Donningham proved to be little more than a cluster of red-roofed houses flanking a main road with a shop here and there. He looked in vain for a post office and at length decided to make an inquiry at the little general store just past the church. A benign and bespectacled old man with a white apron folding his girth, smiled a welcome from behind the little counter laden with a variety of produce that would have done credit to a multiple store. “Good morning to you, young sir. And what is it I can be selling you?” “I wonder if you know a house in these parts called The Beeches?” Philip inquired, after acknowledging the greeting. The old man leaned against the counter and scratched his head 1 . “The Beeches, now,” he repeated, “it’s funny you should ask that because I’ve been wondering about that house for a week or more. You’re friendly with the people, sir?” Once again Philip sensed danger. “I’m afraid I’m not. As a matter of fact,” he prevaricated, “I came down to deliver a message to a Mr Stillman who I’m told lives there.“ The old man laughed, “That’s a good ’un, young sir. Old Mr Stillman’s been dead' these past five months. I followed him to the churchyard myself. Nice old fellow, Stillman. Many’s the big order I’ve had from him in my time when he did his bit of entertaining. It’s funny you not knowing,” he chuckled as though he had no intention of allowing so rich a joke to slip away from him. “I’m afraid I didn’t know the gentleman personally,” went on Philip. “Only in the . way of business, you understand.” “Well, if you be wanting to discuss business with Master Stillman, young sir, old Bob Prentiss can’t be certain of his present address,” and 1 “Old Bob” went off into another frolic of droll laughter. “But you could direct me to the house, I’m sure,” cajoled Philip. ‘Of course I could, and will,” smiled Mr Prentiss, “but I doubt if you’ll be told anything about Mr Stillman,” he added. “You see they're foreigners at The Beeches—yellow foreigners. Chinese I should say. Not that I’ve any objection to foreigners, sir. It’s not their fault, but what I do say is they might patronise the local shops and not send into Tonbridge for their needs.” Philip’s interest was aroused to concert pitch, and he told himself that he was probably right, after all in deciding to* take a chance on the address he had found in the store. “Have they been here very long?” he asked, ixi a voice that sounded far more matter-of-fact than he actually felt. “About a month, I should say. Not that we see much of them,” he added. “Perhaps they’re shy and rather sensitive. I think I should he if I were in .foreign parts. Oh, I’m forgetting again. You want to go up to ‘The Beeches’! Well, about three hundred yards down the road on the left you’ll find a narrow road. The finger post says Middleham. You take that road for half a mile and on your right you’ll come to a house standing all on its own among as fine a collection of beeches as ever you did see. That’s old! Mr Stillman’s place; that was, that is.” Philip thanked Mr Prentiss and left the shop. He found the road indicated to Middleham and walked leisurely along wondering exactly what he was going to do now he had got this far. Ho told himself that he could, of course, make some pretext for inquiring about Mr Stillman, since the village innkeeper had supplied him with the details. As Mr Prentiss had said, the beeches were wonderful; particularly the copper variety, although the autumn was beginning to take toll of their foliage. He could pick out the house among the trees and soon came upon the big iron gate between the two grey posts. The gate was not locked and he decided that he might as well make his inquiry for Mr Stillman as well make his inquiry for Mr Stillman and see what sort of a person answered that inquiry. The old oak door opened slowly, almost furtively and Philip found a pair of almond eyes in a yellow face scrutinising him. “I was wondering if you could tell me where Mr Stillman now lives?” ho questioned. “He used to live here, I understand.” For a moment the Chinaman did not speak. Ling Eoo was suspicious. “If Honourable sir would mind waiting for a moment I will inquire,” he said and Philip noted that lie closed the door as he turned away, leaving him standing in the wide porch. Ling Foo returned a few moments later. & He was sorry but Excellency did not know anything of former tenant. Perhaps the agents . , . Philip felt, as he walked down the drive to the gate that he had learned nothing at all except that apparently the present tenants were „Chinamen. , , ....... Outside in the road again he decided to make a detour. He had an idea that the back of the house might bear inspection. Unostentatiously lie made his way across a field, hugging the hedgerows until he came to a gap which gave bun a view ol the house again. For a moment he stared, unbelievingly. At one of the tiny upper windows that appeared to he barred after the fashion of a child’s nursery, was a face—a woman’s face pressed against the glass, and as he saw it a nausea of fear crept upon him as it had done last night. INSIDE INFORMATION. iFen Yat Soli was not in the best of tempers. Last night’s failure to discover anything of value among the bueliow silk at Ox tons bad been distressing to his mind. He realised now that the forces pitted against him in this mtncate battle of wits and tactics must

.have been gaining ground. "What lio could not understand as be sat sulking in liis apartments was that, according to the most reliable information the secret of the silk was to be found in a consignment that bad already arrived at Oxtons.

The girl Varlcy bad told him that little had been sold of that new consignment. Ho believed that she was speaking the truth. On the other band lie was not prepared to bo over sure about Miss Lennard. He had made something of a fool of himself over Miss Lennard. He realised, now, that he had told her too much. He had whetted her ample appetite to such an extent that lie could no longer now be quite sure whether Miss ’Lennard had actually bought Btichow silk from Oxtons or not. Miss Parley had supplied the address. That, to Sen’s mind was significant. If iuiss Varley was not telling the truth liow did she know that Miss Leonard lived at that address in Battersea she had given him. Yet he had searched the flat high and low for the missing length of Sucliow silk. So far as the expert searching had gone, it wasn’t there. Miss Lennard had suggested that, provided she was turned at liberty she would find the piece for him, but the Chinaman knew 'that, once either of these girls was set free, his own liberty would be immediately imperilled. Wu Ti had done well in going back to Oxtons last night, but once again he had fallen into trouble. He had met someone in the shop and had been compelled to leave him trussed up. Wu Ti had learned his lesson. Sen Yat Soli had decreed that there must be 110 more killing, and thanks to that decree Philip Slater was still, alive, for Wu Ti himself was partial to quick dispatch. He operated on the principle that dead men tell 110 tales, but so long as Sen Yat Soh wanted 110 more trouble with the police, that was well. It did not occur to the strange mentality of Wu Li that by going back to Oxtons to search for silk he might be running his neck into a noose*. The fact that he had murdered Nolescue did not affect him in the least. Killing was a nasty necessity sometimes, like having a tooth extracted. 111 short Wu Ti was an excellent example of a philosopher. But Sen Yat Soh .was not such a fool as to believe that because Wu Ti‘ had not been caught that the police had given up the hunt. It was their very inactivity that alarmed him; that, and the fact that the secret of the silk at Oxtons was as carefully guarded as ever. ■ To any man other than Sen Yat Soh the position wcAild have been abandoned and he would have made his exit as gracefully as he might. Not that Sen Yat Soli’s line of retreat in the event of emergency was not well covered. Ten miles distant there was an aeroplane a small and very fast machine on which he had an expensive option for six weeks. But the Oriental had no desire to utilise the services of that ’plane unless lie had in his possession the secret he had come to London to obtain. Ling Foo had received no further information concerning the operations of their rivals in the hunt for the secret, and to Sen Yat Soh’s way of thinking no news was not good news. He was growing anxious. He wanted to know who it was Wu Ti had met in the store last night. It was wise, of course, of Wu Ti to clear out as quickly as possible with the silk in his possession, hut Sen had an idea that the man in the store might have been on a mission similar to that of Wu Ti and it was a pity his identity was not known. That morning, too, there had. been the visit of a young man inquiring for the late tenant. Ling Foo had not been sure, hut he thought that the young man resembled one of the assistants at Uxtons . . . the one who had chased him from the store. (To be continued.)