THE SILK ENIGMA

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 58, Issue 41, 27 November 1937, Page 9

THE SILK ENIGMA

5 :: SERIAL STORY :: ;j

5 By J. R. WILMOT ’ i‘

5 :: Copyright :: |j

CHAPTER XXIII. TORTURE CHAMBER. Son Yat Soh instructed Ling Foo to watch and report on the young man’s movements. It was possible that the young man—if it were one and the same person—was looking for the girl. But if that were so how did he come to be making inquiries in this part of the world How did the young man know where to look ? Life was becoming -highly complicated far the sagely philosophical Sen Yat Soh. Ling Foo had given an order to the little Tartar who had been sent to warn Peter Oxton that he must shadow the young man who had just called. The Tartar had never liked coming to England. Life was too circumscribed, and since a strain of banditry ran .rather rough-cut through his nature he was impatient to be back again in the East. He accepted Ling Foo’s order with ill grace. Nevertheless, he left the house discreetly, and saw a young man answering to Ling Foo’s description sauntering along the lane. The Tartar was an adept at concealment. Ho wriggled hi& lithe yellow body along the ground like a. snake and Philip was totally unaware of the man’s presence.

The sight of that face at the small barred window had disturbed him. Phyllis Varley had disappeared. There was a definite Chinese association between the death of Nolescue and succeeding events. What if Phyllis was incarcerated in this house?. It certainly had not been Phyllis’s face, but what of that? Philip felt that he must make a ‘desperate bid to gain access to the house without the occupant’s knowledge. At first he toyed with the idea of telephoning Superintendent Beck and giving him the “low-down,” but he decided that there would be time enough for that later, when he had solved the mystery, and Philip was quite convinced that he was going to do that.

It was now mid-day and Philip felt hungry. He realised that it would he senseless to attempt to enter the house in daylight and that he must/ wait for the cover of dusk.

With this thought in mind he retraced his steps to the main road, watched by the unseen eyet of the Tartar, and made his way back to the village. At the little old-world inn ho lunched well and drank local-brewed nut-brown ale from a pewter pot. Luring thte afternoon he* wandered about the neighbourhood asking casual questions from field and farm workers concerning the present tenants of The Beeches. All the information ho gathered was that some foreigners—yellow fellows—had taken the place, and that little, if anything, was ever seen of them. One farm-hand confessed that since he had to pass that way at night he had frequently seen a big black saloon car coming and going Lon-don-wards at all sorts of hours. As for the house, only an occasional light showed there after dark.

Before returning to the vicinity of The Beeches Philip paid another visit to old Bob Prentiss in his general store, and he surprised the old man by asking him to do him a favour.

“I>know it will sound unusual to you, Mr Prentiss,” he said, “but if 1 don’t head up here again by mid-day tomorrow I want you to hand this letter to the village policeman. You’ll see it is addressed to Superintendent Beck at Scotland Yard. He’s a friend of mine, and 1 want you to impress the village policeman with the fact that I want the contents of that note telephoned to Scotland Yard immediately. It may be a matter of life and death.” Bob Prentiss blinked unbelievingly. “You mean that jou are likely to be in danger from them yellow-skins?” “I may he,” Philip smiled, “but I’m sorry I can’t tell you more just yet. i just ask you to trust me." “Hi trust you all right, young sir. And what’s more, if I were a year or two younger I’d be along side o’ you; specially if there’s a chance of a scrap. I did a bit of that in my young days, sir.”

Philip thanked him and departed. The blanket of dusk had drawn itself around the house, and the night was incredibly still. He had previously marked a point where ho felt it would be easy to gain access to the ground's over the wall with the aid of an elm whose branches tipped the top of the wall. He climbed the tree without difficulty, and the next moment he had jumped lightly down into the grounds of The Beeches.

Not a light was showing, hut the house itself loomed blacker than the night ahead of him. Jde had noted a window on the ground level almost opposite the elm tree, and he felt that it ought not to be difficult to force this open. The window, however, needed no forcing. It Avas obligingly unlatched. Silently Philip pushed up the lower half of the sash frame and scrambled over the sill. The torch he had picked up in Oxton’s the previous night Avas still in his pocket. Cautiously he sAvitched it on, and in the light saAV that he Avas looking into a small stone-flagged room Avhose floor Avas beloAV ground level. It had probably been used at one time as a flour store, for there were several empty sacks in the far corner. He loAvered himself into the room and closed the AvindoAV behind him. The ■door stood ajar, and opening it Avider he found himself confronted by a nartoav flight of stone steps. That same peculiar sense of fear sAvept him again, but he. fought doAvn the emotion and stole silently up the stairs, having removed his shoes and left them beside the AvindoAV of the room he had just left.

The door at the head of the flight of steps Avas also obligingly open and he found himself in a second but shorter corridor leading to tho hall and' the staircase. A small buish-green light burned from a stand-lamp providing the sole illumination. The place was as silent as a vault, and the young man

was about to step forward towards the staircase when the blood seemed to freeze in his veins. From somewhere at the top of the house a woman screamed. It was no ordinary scream; it was the scream of a soul in torment. For a moment he stood there horrified. Ho remembered the woman’s face he had seen at the window. The time for action had come.

Discarding caution as if it had been a cumbersome coat Philip dashed towards the stairs and raced upwards. Ho had not the smallest idea where he was going or into what danger. .Reaching the first landing he paused, listening. The scream had not been repeated. He found himself faced with four doors. He placed his ears to each, but heard nothing. On the second landing ho fared better. Tho landing was in darkness and from beneath one of tho doors came' a faint ribbon of light. Ho waited for a moment uncertain how to act. His mind was immediately made up by the sound of another heart-rend-ing scream and there was no mistaking the direction. It came from the door opposite him. Philip flung the door open without hesitation and stood staring at a strange sight. A woman was lying fully clothed on what appeared to be a small wire mattress on the floor. Beside the mattress stood an evil-visaged Chinaman, while beside the opposite wall one hand controlling a master electric switch, transformer and rheostat stood the man who had answered his inquiry at the door that morning. Philip understood the significance of the scene. It was a modern form of Eastern torture. These fiends had sought the assistance of electricity and the woman on the wire frame was being subjected to various forms of electric shocks.

“You swine,” cried Bnilip launching himself into the room like an arrow from a bow.

The man bending over the woman had turned at the sound of the door being flung open, but his face during those seconds remained inscrutable. Whether he had been anticipating Philip’s attack it was impossible to tell, but he was noli quick enough to prevent tiro young man’s list crashing against Ins unprotected jaw. Sen Yat Soh spun sideways like, a top, hut the fact that there had been little resistance to the blow was fatal for Philip who, unable to control his momentum, found himself falling on to tho electric torture frame on the floor.

Ling Foo at the wall switch saw his opportunity. He swung the rheostat handle sharply over. The woman on the frame uttered, another piercing scream before she passeci into unconsciousness. Philip felt as if a dozen mules had kicked him in the head simultaneously. He felt utterly incapable of movement and looked up into Sen Yat Soh’s evil face without hope. MORNING OF MANY MOODS. Peter Oxton sat in his office frowning across at Superintendent Beck. “I think, Superintendent,” he announced, “that I’m gi’owing somewhat weary of this business. I had imagined that the whole affair would have been cleared up days ago, but what have you done? So far as I can see, Mr Beck—and you must forgive mo if I speak plainly—you have done nothing. First a valuable member of my staff is murdered; then another equally valuable employee disappears, and now, this morning, I hear that young Slater is missing. If affairs continue like this 1 shall have no staff left. I’m afraid 1 must ask you for some assurance in this matter, Mr Beck.” The Superintendent had every reason to he irritable, and oh this occasion it was not due to a cut chin or to cold bacon. He had been informed by ten o’clock that Philip Slater had not turned in to work; that an inquiry at the address where he had-a room had elicited the information That Slater arrived home late last night and had left again very early without giving his landlady any explanation for his early rising. Now he was being rated by Oxton because, it appeared, he had done nothing about it. What did the fellow expect him to do? He’d done everything he possibly could regarding the girl’s ’disappearance. and he couldn’t reasonably he expected to do anything more. But that Uxton should—more or less—• charge him with neglect of duty . . . well, he certainly liked that! Of course, he’ realised that it must be disconcerting for Oxton, but if it was disconcerting for Oxton, how much more disconcerting was it for himself. Oxton wasn’t answerable to a superior authority. He was a private citizen, not a public servant. Beck leaned forward. “I can understand how you feel, Mr Oxton,” he began, “but let me first of all point out to you that, at your own request, I withdrew police protection from these premises. By doing so I broke one of our regultions and laid myself open to reprimand and, possibly, dismissal. I did that because the safety of jmur daughter had been threatened. \ery well, I think I can say—and with some certainty—that had I been allowed to go about this job in my own way, neither Miss Varley nor Mr Slater would be, at this moment, missing. Neither, too, would some unauthorised person have entered these premises last night and taken away a quantity of your Chinese silk. You have to admit, Mr Oxton, that under the circumstances you have only yourself to blapie. You speak of talking plainly.' So do I. No other course is left open to me, but whether you like it or not, I’m going to proceed with this case along my o\\ n lines. What happens as a result of that, I, and I alone, will assume responsibility.” Peter Oxton’s face, that a moment ago had been outrageously red, paled somewhat.

“But Avhat about the threat?” he demanded, nervously. “You loioav Avhat the threat Avas. If anything should happen ...” “Nothing Avill happen if I’m left to do tho job in my oavu way. I Avas a fool to take any notice of you before. But then I’ve ahvays had an absurdly soft heart and I’ve realised before.' today that it Avould he my undoing before very long. Now about the affair last night. What quantity of silk Avas taken ?”

Peter Oxt-on consulted a report that lay on his desk in front of him. “Three rolls of Suclaoav silk,” he announced. “It’s value Avas in the neighbourhood of fifteen pounds.”

“I suppose the rolls Avould haA'e been fairly substantial?” “No, not very. One man could have taken them out Avithout much trouble'. Of course, he might have been noticed Avalking through the streets.” “He wouldn’t,” snapped the Buperinteftdent. “He’d have- a car parked nice and handy. How did he get in?” Peter Oxton shook bis head. “I sup-

pose in the same way that Nolcscue’s murderer got in,” he said, weakly. “The watchman says there’s no sign of anything being out of order.” “It w r as probably the saine man,” decided Beck, dismally. “Now if I’d had my men on duty as I’d arranged . . “Yes, i know,” protested Oxton, “but can’t we do something about itr It’s not the silk I’m worrying about; it’s my staff. J can’t think they’re concerned in all this.”

“They’re not,” said Beck, decisively. “1 believe that their disappearance has some connection, though ; particularly that of Miss Varley. As for Slater, i dont know what to think. You may be interested to know that round about midnight last night ho ’phoned The Yard and left a message for me. That message has been worrying me for hours. From what i gathered he must have seen someone in the store and went alter the fellow. He said something about being trussed up for his pains, but managed apparently, to free himself. Then he informed the desk sergeant that he was following up » clue and' that when he found anything he would let me know.”

Peter Oxton’s face .visibly brightened. “Then it’s not so bad after all. lie's a smart young fellow, Slater, it; would be soind hing o! a leather in bis

i;■ ji if in' mii'id it. off under the noses of Scotland Yard. What would you say about that. Superintendent?” ' The Superintendent grimaced. He felt that Dxtou was now laughing r.i

him and such conduct was tinforgiv able.

“I may as well tell you. Mr Oxton, that j asked Slater to keep an eye on the place as often as he could. 'I hat was because, at your request. 1 had no men. on duty. I like young shier. He’s a good type of kid, but all the same I’m worried about him. If he’d only told me what the clue was he was following, I’d be feeling a whole heap happier at this moment. You see, Mr Oxton, the amateur detective can do incalculable harm to a case of this kind unless lie’s very, very careful. He might get himself into serious trouble, too. My own view is that we’re dealing with a gang of highly dangerous fanatics who are wanting to get hold of some information by way of the Sucliow silk you have in this store. They are that type of fanatic that stops at nothing to get what they want. We’ve had one murder already, and I don’t mind admitting that I’m uneasy. However, I can’t see what more we can do at the moment, but whether you like it or not, Mr Oxton, my men are now on duty in and around the store. They won’t he in anyone’s way. They’re good fellows who know their respective jobs. wo of them will remain behind here to-night when the store closes. You need not worry about them; they will be as unobtrusive as shadows. There ii be others outside the store. I’m

;ng this purely as a precautionary measure. I don’t imagine that any other members of your staff need fear abductioin. My Only regret is that it’s rather like closing the stable door after the horse has cantered away. I’m going back to The Yard. If Slater turns up here, let me know immediately. And you might deal gently with him, remembering that I’m responsible for his absence this morning.” Peter Oxton passed a hand across his eyes and nodded. ' When Beck returned to his office he was surprised to hear that Professor Karmen was waiting to see him,and he hurried to his room.

The Professor was not alone. He was accompanied by a tall, gaunt-looking Chinaman. “Ah, good-morning, Mr Beck, allow me to introduce an old friend of mine, Professor Kan Fu, who has just arrived from China.” The Chinese professor ( bowed elegantly and smiled, displaying a set of perfect teeth. “And what can I do for the two professors?” questioned the Superintendent with a smile.

Professor Karman answered. “You remember, Superintendent, our little talk the other day about The Five Eyes of Medichus. Well, Professor Kan Fu is the head of the temple sect who are the rightful owners of the jewel, and it has come to the professor’s knowledge that powerful counter-influences are at work in London at this very moment in a desperate effort to obtain possession of the secret. “He tells me that the head of the organisation at present operating and the one without doubt responsible for the murder of Nolescue—is none other than the great bandit Sen Yat Soh, whose name alone in certain parts of China is sufficient to strike terror into the hearts of his opponents. He tells me also, that Nolescue was employed by the Golden Eagle Tong, rivals to Sen Yat Soh, and that having investigated' at first hand the assassination of Lao Ti, the silk weaver at Suchow, he is convinced that on a certain roll of Suchow silk, which was consigned recently to London, the secret has been woven in the form of a trademark to escape detection.” Professor Kan Fu nodded his head in agreement as his friend finished his narrative. “And what am I expected to do about it, Professor?” asked Beck, helplessly. “It’s quite the most amazing tangle I’ve ever encountered.” Professor Karmen had little idea what he ought to suggest. He had been confident that having substantiated their early theory concerning the death of Nikolas Nolescue, the Superintendent would immediately put his official machinery into motion to secure the arrest of Sen Yat Soh and his gang. “I thought it might not be so difficult now that we are certain,” he suggested, lamelw. (To be Continued.)