THE WADE KIDNAP CASE

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 60, Issue 104, 12 February 1940, Page 7

THE WADE KIDNAP CASE

By LESLIE CARGILL.

' CHAPTER 1. CLUE OF THE BROKEN ORCHID. Major Mosspn was hurrying along tho corridor to his department tucked away in the rabbit warren of offices which make up the interior of that much-criticised architectural curiosity known as Now Scotland Yard. It was not unusual for him to he seen moving at a smart pace, for, like most consistently unpunctual people, he was generally trying to make up’ for lost time.

Presumably the Major’s. executive duties were important, though it was a standing joke .that nobody knew what they were, particularly the departmental chief.

Somebody was just coming out of the Assistant Commissioner’s room as lie passed, and the Major muttered a brief apology to mark tho occasion of a collision narrowly missed. Captain Caythers came to the door at that moment and stood watching his recent ■caller stalk away. And that was exceptional, though it might indicate parting with a close friend—or perhaps moan that his suspicions were aroused. "Late again,” he quizzed. As his face cleared at the sight of Major Mosson there was apparently no intention of serious complaint. “Come inside a minute, will you? That is if

your pressing work can affert’d to wait a little longer!”

“As a matter of fact I have rather a lot to do, but ...” “But'you don’t mind procrastinating if a suitable excuse can be found, eh? Seriously, I’d like to have a little chat.”

He led the way back into his barelyfurnished office and began pacing up and down, while Major Mosson made himself as comfortable as possible on a chair that was not designed to tempt callers to overstay their time. “That fellow you barged into outside was Bellnir Broome,” Caythers remarked, frowning. “Thanks!” “Eh!” “I thought you were contributing a new specimen to my collection of odd names.” “That’s- a, queer hobby. First time I’ve heard about it. Hang it, you’re trying to bo funny.” Mosson grinned. “Well, it was a trifle queer to be dragged into your august presence and presented with an apparently inconsequential scrap of information. Now I am here, wouldn’t it bo as well to get it off your chest at once.” “That is the idea,” Caythers said “Somehow or other you always stimulate my thought processes. Goodness knows why?” “Sort of stooge, old man. All great detectives need a Dr. Watson. “M’yes! Maybe that’s right. But Broome has come here with a story which, frankly, I find incredible. You’ve heard of Sir Timothy Wade?” “Tim^Wade, the teaman?” “That’s him, though it isn’t a good descriptive nickname. Ranks as one of the wealthiest of our comlhercial princes. Consistently refuses to accept higher honours than a knighthood . .”

"Because a peerage would cost more to keep up!” "Maybe! Anyway, lie isn’t in tbe front rank of philanthropists, although noted as a good employer, because it pavs to have satisfied workpeople. Not that all these details have anything to do with the business. Suppose,- however, that he was kidnapped?” "Has he been?” Monson demanded, visibly startled. "I don’t know. Bellair Broome thinks so.’’

"Huh! Another crank with a fancy yarn!” ' "He didrilt strike me that way. VVe get dozens of imaginative stories told us here most days, as you know. But somehow it is always possible to tell the crazy creatures by the way they look and behave. Broome betrays none of these symptoms. I saw him without hesitation as he is Wade’s confidential secretary, and he insisted on coming straight to the fountain head, so to speak.” "Thanks ‘for letting me be the basm in which your precious splashes drip, Mosson murmured. Caythers flung himself down in his swing chair so heavily that it sprang back alarmingly. "I’m not in a mood for joking,” lie snapped. "If there s anything in the story there’s going to he*the devil to pay! If there isn’t it will stir up trouble, anyway. That’s where you come in. Wade wasn’t even in our effective area, but down at his place in Surrey, so 1 can’t delegato one of the. regular officers to the job. "Why not take a few.days off and nose around. Strictly unofficially, of course, although as a Scotland Yard executive you’ll be readily acceptable to Broome. But don t make a mess of things by antagonising the local force. You know how they hate us butting in without invitation.” “Now isn’t that nice of you! First I’m appointed stooge-in-ordinary, then I’m promoted to the position of -whipping boy. If anything goes wrong you can blame the poor inquisitive semiamateur, but if all is well, AssistantCommissioner Caythers gets the praise.” BERENICE STEPS IN. "That isn’t quite what I intended.” Caythers hastened to explain. "You’ve got tact and a natural flair for detective work, or else luck walks beside you when you poke your finger in the police pie.” . "The metaphor is somewhat mixed, but I see what you’re driving at,” Mosson replied. "Not that you need apologise. Obviously, a, fellow so eminent as Tim Wade is entitled to special attention. As for mo, I’m always ready to turn my back on my collection of filing cabinets, with or without due cause. Tell me some more !” "There isn’t much. Wade is a notoriously methodical man, yet ho

A Story of Mystery and Romance.

(Copyright). |

leaves home Unexpectedly and secretly, sending a note several hours later saying he’s decided to take a holiday. Might be a whim of a middle-aged person who suddenly tires of the daily round. We got dozens of such instances.”

“Usually an excuse to get away from the family, eh?”

“But Wade happens to ho a bachelor.” 4 ,

Mosson whistled. “That’s different, he agreed. “‘No family or financial handicaps. What about the note?” “Might bo forged. There’s another explanation.” “Written under threat, you mean? Quito a customary resort of kidnappers, I believe!’’

Caythers scowled ferociously. “Such crimes are rare in this country,” _he said. “Personally I have never dealt with, one involving an adult. But I believe in other countries where they arc more common the method you suggest is used. Anyway, here’s the message; read it for yourself.”

“Is it the original?” Mosspn asked, taking the sheet of paper held out for inspection. “Yes. There is a matching envelope.” “I see! Good quality paper. Expensive, by the texture. Written with a fountain pen by the look of the consistent lettering. No sign of quaver . . ” “Wade isn’t the sort of chap to get into a funk,” Caythers remarked. “By the way, you seem to be able to make quite a lot out of that note. Rather more than I had, as a matter of fact.” “Must he my natural flair coming out. You can’t attribute, it to sheer luck this time.” He read the brief note aloud: “Dear Broome, —Have decided to cut adrift for a few days and take a holiday. Please carry on as usual until you hear from pie.—T.W.” “Quite friendly,” he commented. “The initials, I take it, are customary in. writing to Broome?” “Every darned thing is normal except the truancy and Odontoglossom. Berenice Farlane.” “Ah, cherchcz la femme.” “Odontoglossom,” Caythers said severely, “is the botanical label for some sort of orchid.”

‘Somebody’s been telling you!” “Broome. That happens to he one of the points he makes. Wade has one passion and that is the cultivation of orchids. The Berenice Farlane is a newly acquired specimen, very rare and expensive, and the apple, of his eve The hanging basket in which it grew was found on the floor of the hot-house, apparently having been torn away from its hook.”

“You can’t go and hag a fellow out of a greenhouse,” Mosson objected. “Most awkward place to stage a crime. Too many windows.” “Don’t jump to conclusions. We don’t know that a, crime has been committed yet.” “Oh, but there has,” the major said gently. “Hunches have no place at Scotland Yard.”

"You forget I’m not a pukka,detective, hut only the amateur who comes in to show yon experts where to got off. Miss Berenice persuades me. Besides, I’ve just had a squint at the envelope lying on your desk. The stamp is stuck with a darned sight too much geometrical nicety in the corner. Just like I should stick it if I wanted to affix an already cancelled stamp steamed off another letter. You don’t notice then that the postmark doesn’t go round and round in a complete circle.”

Caythers snatched up the envelope and examined it intently. "One up on you,” he remarked. "Of course we’d have spotted it later, hut I hadn’t submitted it to close inspection. These old-fashioned date stamps arc only used at the smaller offices, so we can check up on your idea. Posted in—in—Bentonforks, or something like that.” "Benton, Yorks,” Mosson amended. "Little village right up beyond Richmond. The Yorkshire Richmond, of course. And didn’t you say something about this letter having been delivered a few hours after W ado left the hpuse?” "Same afternoon.”

"Well, it would take at least a day to make the journey between Benton and London. Incidentally it’s the first mention made of this being a morning job.” ' . "We hadn’t got so far as admitting anything was wrong. Now it really does begin to look fishy.” Mosson was studying the stamp with tbe aid of a powerful magnifying glass. "Date too smudgy to be helpful,” bo announced. "HIS WARD AND I.” Major Mosson heaved himself to his feet, ruefully, rubbing a leg which had acquired pins-and-noodles. "A really efficient kidnapper, or gang of kidnappers, would, watch points likte that,” he said softly. "Unless I’m out of mv depth you won’t find that postmark any good as a clue. There are other ways of getting used stamps than by making a long trip to post a letter from an obscure village. Picking a suitable specimen from a collection of waste, for instance. And talking ol waste reminds me that’s what I’m doing with time.”

He had the. door open before the Assistant Commissioner called him hack to mention that Sir Timothy Wade lived at Epworth. "That, cr, flair,” he added, "comes in handy at times but it won’t lead you to places by instinct.”

"I’d have asked a policeman, if I could have found one round about this place,” Mosson retorted, and ducked outside smartly.

Epwortli wasn’t so easy to find, even with the aid of a large-scale road map. The village was one of those little clusters of houses right away from the beaten track such as one still comes across in Surrey, in spite of the over

questing tonacles of London's suburbs. Major Mosson was glad he had driven, down in his own car because there was no railway station nearer than two miles, and the Wade residence was at least a mile farther away from

the village. Getting off tho main road was like slipping hack to the pre-war age. Instead of the familiar tarmac, his wheels hummed on old-fashioned waterbound macadam, and there were high untrimmed hedges on both sides. Judging by the excellent surface little traffic passed that way. Later he was to find that the highway, though a public thoroughfare, was virtually a drive to “Fairclough,” the handsome Victorian home of Sir Timothy Wade. Not that it merely finished at the lodge gates, for, serving a few widelyseparated farms, it meandered on to join the main Leatherhead road another mile or so away.

An unexpected obstacle to immediate investigation presented itself on tho Major’s arrival for Bellnir Broome had not yet come back from London. Hewn,s expected on the mid-day train, a car having already gone to Epworth station to moot him. Mosson did not wish to state his business, so ho merely said that lie desired to see Mr Broome rather urgently.

A footman ushered him into a pleasant apartment overlooking a sweep of turf bounded by well tended flower beds. Presently a maid offered whisky and soda, a hospitable gesture he gratefully accepted. While the Major was still enjoying the drink an enormous motor-ear came arrogantly up the drive, which could be seen to the right of the lain ins, and, a. few moments later, the man ho had nearly collided with outside the assistant commissioner's room came to greet him.

Bellnir Broome was as unusual as his name. Tall, but well built, he had the bearing of an athlete. There was nothing of the studious type often associated with private secretaryships. His handclasp was firm and his keen eyes were rock steady. Not the sort of man to betray a. confidence, by the look of him.

The niajo ’ was favourably impressed, though the police wbrk made him realise that likeable! looking- individuals could not always he taken on thei,r face value-. For the time'being he was prepared to keep an open, mind After all, Broome had raised the matter of possible foul play, which was in his favour. But if Sir Timothy Wade had been spirited away the time must inevitably come when it would be turned to- account.

“A detective must have/ a naturally suspicious mind,” Capt-J Caythers had once laid down as an axiom. Mosson had never forgotten that. Straight away he saw what advantages might a coy no from, approaching the police at this stage. First, it would lead the scent away from any implicated insider. Second, it would open up ransom proceedings. Third, it ooukl he a blind if Wade himself had some ulterior motive for. disappearing. As soon as ho'allowed these; suspicions to enter his mind, Mosson countered them with ready objections. Fur thef secrecy might be an asset to either criminals or an absconding financial magnate. A .ransom might be expected to be negotiated by a third party with the police kept strictly out of the picture. Belair Brocme was regarding the visitor quizzically. “I see,” lie remark ed, easily, “that you arei already siz ing me up What your conclusions are don’t worry me iii the" slightest. Sir Timothy is, to me, something mpre than an employer.” -’' ■ “A friend?”

"I’m not sure. To veil the truth I am in love with his niece and ward, Miss F’cilicitc fDelbos. ’ ’

(To be continued)