THE SILK ENIGMA

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 58, Issue 43, 30 November 1937, Page 7

THE SILK ENIGMA

ij By J. R. WILMOT jj j| :: Copyright :: ;! 3 WHWWWMWWWWWWW 3

|j :: SERIAL STORY :: ;|

CHAPTER XXV. “YOU LIE!” Philip heard the grating of a key in che lock. A yellow light glowed through the tiny room. Ling Foo stood in the doorway. “You will come with me, and you will make no attempt to be violent. If you are you will be placed in irons, uncomfortable irons, Mr Slater. Irons that are connected with the power unit. You see wo are thoroughly up-to-date in this establishment. We use modern inventions.”

Philip decided that, after his previour experience, the fellow probably meant eyerythiing he said and he realised that if he was able to get free of the house again he must not be impeded with irons, so he preceded along the passage and down the staircase.

ISen Yat Soh w T as waiting to receive them. There was a note of impatience in his almond eyes. “So, Mr Slater, you are from Oxtons. Employed in the office. Doubtless you know something about the consignments of Suchow silk that have arrived in London in the past four weeks. Is that not so?”

Philip felt that the Chinaman had become possessed of accurate information in the shortest possible time, since he had appeared not to know who he was less than an hour ago.

“Up to a point you’re right. I have seen the invoices and the delivery notes for the silk you mention.” Sen Yat Soh rubbed his hands. IDs ancestors had been pleased to be kind to him to-night. Without any plotting this young man, who might easily prove to hold the key to the secret, had actually walked in on him. But Sen Yat Soh was much too hardened a campaigner to take too much for granted. He was secretly intrigued to know how the fellow came to discover his hiding-place. “Tell me,” the Chinaman went oft obliquely, “how came you here ... to this house?” ■. “Just strolling around,” said Philip lamely. “Not good enough, Mr Slater. Can t you think of something more in keeping with your undoubted intelligence? Or maybe you require a stimulant to your memory?” Philip understood that he was dealing with no ordinary Chinaman. This fellow was as clever as a bagful of monkeys. “As a matter of fact, I was given the address.” “How interesting! Yet you lie, Slater. Your tongue is an adept at it. Think again.” Philip decided that verbal fencing was getting him nowhere, so he told just as much as he wanted the man to know. When he had finished, Sen Yat Soh said: “I see. It was careless of my man to lose that scrap of paper. I must make quite sure that he is not careless a second time. And yet, I don’t know that I would have had it different. Providence—or call it what you will—works strangely. Now about the silk in which I am interested.” Philip Slater’s brain worked swiftly. “Of course,” lie explained,, “you mustn’t imagine that the entire consignment to Oxtons actually went into the store. Only about half the quantity did that. The remainder is still in stock in the stockroom, in the basement.”

“Ah!” Sen Yat Soh’s exclamation was one of infinite satisfaction, but suddenly the pleased expression on his face changed. “How. do I know 7 you speak the truth—you of a thousand lies? How do I know?” “Why not go and see?” suggested Philip, secretly hoping that the man would agree to the suggestion. “Perhaps there is another way,” said Sen Yat Soh, slowly, touching the concealed bell inside the room. Ling Foo came in answer to it, and stood just inside the room. “Bring Miss Yarley to me,” he said, slowly and without looking at Philip. At the mention of the girl’s name, Philip took an involuntarily step forward.

“Did you say Miss Yarley?” Sen Yat Soh nodded. “Charming girl,” he commented, tonelessly. “But not very helpful—as yet.” Philip stood there clenching his fists and breathing quickly. “If you’ve tried any of your swine tricks on her ” He broke off as the door opened and saw Phyllis standing there w 7 ith Ling Foo behind her. “Philip l” The girl almost leaped across the room and clung to him. Sen Yat Soh smiled. “Pretty scene!” he said. “I like romance and sentimentality in an attractive setting, but I’m afraid this is no moment for love-making. We have work to be done.” “What’s this swine been doing to you?” Philip demanded of her. “Nothing—yet,” Phyllis faltered. “Only —Misss Lennard.” “Look here.” stormed Philip, “we-ve got to put an end' to this farce. If w'e don’t it’s going to be unfortunate for you. Before this time to-morrow the police will be here. You here what I sa y—the polype—Scotland Yard—and that’will be the end—of you!” Sen Yat Soh was still smiling from his chair.

“So, the police will be here—that is interesting, Mr Slater. I should hate your police to have this journey for nothing. But again you He,” lie charged. “Why should the police w 7 mt until to-morrow ? If they know you are here, why are they not here, too? You are very clever, Mr iSlater—but you are not quite clever enough. There is something lacking—just a little something. But we are forgetting the business in hand.” He turned to the girl who was still clinging to Philip’s arm. “Mr Slater lias been telling me about your supply of Suchow 7 silk. Would you be good enough, Miss VarTey, to tell me where your supplies are kept?—apart from those on the store-shelves. I mean.”

Phyllis felt the pressure of Philip’s hand on her own and heard, him whisper one word—“ Cellar.” “Why, in the store-room, of course,” she told him.

“And where is the storeroom ?” “In the cellar,” she replied, simply. “So! The silk is in the cellar. Yet it wasn’t there last night, or my agent would have found it. You lie, both of you! To-morrow—or perhaps to-night,” he reflected, “I shall learn the truth. As for your police, who am I that I. should be afraid of thorn? They do not know I am in England, you poor helpless fools!” TWELFTH HOUR. Superintendent Beck read and re-read the message lie had received from the police station at Tonbridge. Ho scratched his head rather inelegantly many times during the process. The message which had been transmitted ran: “Received the following from shopkeeper named Prentiss at Upper Donniiigham: To Superintendent Beck, Scotland Yard. Come at once to ‘ The Beeches,’ Upper Boiininghaiii, near Tonbridge. lam going to get into the house, but do not know what 1 expect to find there. House tenanted by Chinamein—Slater.”

Inspector Graves scanned the message, too, when Beck handed it to him. “What do you make of that?” asked the Superintendent. “The young man said he was following up a clue, didn’t he. I suppose We’d better be getting down to Tonbridge.” “There can’t be any harm in it,” admitted the Superintendent. “How about the men in case we want to raid the place.” “1 should say that we’d he able to rake up a few from Tonbridge if wo send a message through.” Beck agreed and added: “We’d better get them to keep an unobtrusive eye on the place until we get there.” The instruction was sent through immediately and Beck and Graves climbed into a squad ear. The time was three o’clock in the afternoon.

At five-thirty the Superintendent was closeted with the District Superintendent at Tonbridge. 1 “You don’t know anything about these people at ‘The Beeches?’ ” inquired Beck. Superintendent Morrosing had to admit that he did not except that since the message had been sent they had ascertained that they were Chinamen. “You see,” he explained, “they haven’t been there very long and we don’t usually inquire too closely unless there’s anything queer going on.” Beck sighed. “Your men have been watching the place since two-thirty, you say?”' “That is so, Mr Beck. I’ve got half a dozen men down there with strict instructions to take no action until wo arrive.” “Then we’d better he geting along, suggested Beck, eager to probe the mystery of Philip Slater’s message. Half an hour later found them on the outskirts of Upper Donningham and Beck stopped the car so that he could have a few words with Bob Prentiss, the shopkeeper. As a result Superintendent Beck had no doubt at all in his own mind that it had- been Slater who had handed the old man that message. That was Yhat. There was no danger of their walking into a carefully prepared trap. It was twilight when they looked at the house through the trees. It seemed peaceful enough. Not a breath of wind stirred the leaning branches of the beech trees. To all intents and purposes the house appeared untenanted. “We’re going to make a few inquiries,” Beclc explained to Superintendent Morrosing who led the local men. “Keep a sharp look out for any funny business and should you hear three blasts from my whistle, make a concerted raid.” Beck and Inspector Graves marched quietly up to the door of The Beeches” and knocked. It was 'Ling Foo who opened the door and inquired their business. Beck handed in his card. “I want to make a few inquiries of the people living here,” he -explained, brusquely and to the point. , TT . Ling Foo bowed. “I will acquaint His Excellency of your visit, sir.” The Chinaman moved as though to close the door, but Graves anticipating that move had the toe of his boot ready. “We H have the door left open,” lie said, as the Chinaman found the progress of the door restricted. With an eloquent shrug of his shoulders Ling Foo disappeared within. “This looks good to me,” whispered Beck. “I wonder who His Excellency can lie? Never heard of him.” Ling Foo returned a moment later. If the gentlemen would accompany him His Excellency would grant them a few moments interview. His Excellency was very busy. Beck winked at Graves and as the two men followed the Chinaman down the hall, both kept a hand in thenpocket in case' of emergency. _ Sen Yat Soh received them with much bowing and many bland smiles. “I am honoured, gentlemen,” lie began. “What is it that so august a body as Scotland Yard wants with a bumble Chinaman?” “Wo believe that some time yesterday a young man called on you here—a young Englishman, inquiring I think, for a Mr Stillman. We happen to be particularly interested in that young man’s movements, and we naturally thought that you might be able to help us. J A smile played intriguingly about Sen Yat Soh’s lips. The alarm he had experienced when Ling Foo had brought in the card was evaporating. All they were looking for was a young man. That was good— very good. “I take it—Mr Beck, that this young man for whom you are looking is—how you say? —wanted by the police?” “I most certainly want him,” Beck admitted shrewdly. . . “I had no idea he was a criminal, went on the Chinaman, sententiously. “He certainly did not look like one.” “Then he did call here,” snapped Beck. “Most certainly, Mr. Beck. He did indeed inquire for someone the name of Stillman, but he was told that we could give him no information concerning that gentleman since we liav6 none to give.” Beck grunted. The fellow- was obviously stalling. “And you have not seen, him since?” he inquired, meeting the Oriental’s gaze sharply. “Certainly not Mr. Bock. He was a stranger to us and he went on his way.” Bock turned, to Graves at his elbow. “That seems good enough, inspector. It appears that we have had a journey for nothing.” As he said this he transferred his gaze quickly from Graves to the Chimaman’s face and was satisfied to notice the look of undisguised relief there. “It would seem that way sir,’’ Graves admitted, on a note of disappointment. “I suppose we’ll have to try and pick up his trail somewhere else.” Scarcely had the words fallen from

his reluctant lips than a sharp cry came to their ears followed swiftly by the sound of someone falling. Beck swung round swiftly. “What’s that?” he demanded, looking back on the complacent face of Sen Yat Soh.