THE GOLDEN SANDS RIDDLE

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 61, Issue 270, 27 August 1941, Page 7

THE GOLDEN SANDS RIDDLE

by ALEXANDER CAMPBELL.

CHAPTER Yin

MR XOSA INTERVENES.

Within a few minutes of bidding goodbye to Quayle, Peter found himself confronted in the hall of the Orient, by the little Bantu, Mr Xosa. Mr Xosa was dressed, as was his custom, in a white linen suit. His black face rose above a starched white collar, ami his tie would have put a rainbow in the shade. His brown eyes beamed good-naturedly behind the large spectacles on his fat nose when he saw Peter. His first words administered a shock. “You have told the truth now?” ho inquired amiably. Peter frowned down on him. “What do you mean?” Mr Xosa wriggled his plump body in an ecstacy of abasement. “A thousand pardons! Words are sharp nails, the wise man taps them softly. But I observed you driving with Inspector Quayle. He * was looking pleased. Manifestly the sun shone for him, and the little birds sang. 1 deduced that you had told him the truth.” “I think you deduce too much,” said Peter grimly. do you know about all this?” “Too little,” said Mr Xosa. mournfully, “and perhaps too much. You remember our first meeting?” Peter frowned. “I almost bumped into you—” “On my way out of the hotel once more,” said Mr Xosa regretfully, “for -I was speedily ejected, i saw you and the late Mr Monte talking in your car. Therefore deduced that you knew him. Therefore regretted when, you decided later to lie to the inspector in this regard. The inspector is a butcher-bird; his vision is keen, and he strikes like the lightning. Suggest that you instruct me to act for you in this, matter.”

Peter gaped at him. “Act for me?” Mr Xosa nodded briskly. “I am. a " quite considerable detective. Recently 1 restored to Sir John Oarr his wallet, and achieved incarceration of evil man , Tickey Charlie, thus effecting release of my own brother, wrongfully suspected. Cases are similar, are they not?” Peter laughed. “You may bo clever at finding lost wallets,” he said, “but this is murder. I think you’d better run along, before Mr Orion spots you. I rather gather that you and he are /hot exactly soul mates.” ‘ « “Mr Orion a crook,” said Mr Xosa dispassionately. “AskMr Quayle. You will not accept my humble services, then? I am sorry. But you may change your mind. He who never deviates from straight line falls over precipice. Reflection bring? wisdom. My brother works here. His name is Kwana Xosa. White people call him Chocolate. That is a jest,” added Ml* Xosa solemnly. ‘Should you want me, t inquire from him. I will come with all / speed.” /He bowed, settled his white hat on his kinky head, gripped his black stick firmly, and went out into the sunshine. / Peter shrugged his shoulders and turned to the lift. He found Lucy and Terence Parry .together oh- the sun terrace, consuming 1 cool drinks. Lucy looked worried. 5 Terry said: “Been having a seance •‘with the law?” “It seems to be no secert,” said : Peter a trifle bitterly. V. Lucy leaned forward and laid a hand on Peter’s- arm. She said softly: “Peter, you’re in trouble. We —Terry and I—want to help.” 1 Terence Parry said: ‘ ‘Mind my butting in, Lucy?” Then, turning to Peter: “I’m going to be frightfully blunt. You’rb rather fond of Lucy, aren’t you?” Peter found himself going red. ' “I don’t see—- —he began swiftly. “Oh, for the love of Mike!” Terence Parry’s handsome face was animated. “Let’s stop beating around the mulberry bush. You’re fond of tho girl. Any goof could see that.. And she’s fond of you—shut up, Lucy! You agreed to let me speak my little piece! And I’m fond of her— in my own quaint way. “And I rather like you,” Terry continued. Lucy likes you. Sir John likes you. That makes it unanimous. “Well, we suspect that something’s up. You suddenly come into a fortune. A mail is killed. And you are taken for a ride by the policeman in charge of the case. Not to speak of the guilty, hang-dog look you’ve been wearing since this fortune of yours turned up. The fact is, Peter, you’re no actor . . . • “So what about sharing your troubles with us? Item, we don’t believe you are the sort of merchant to get mixeci up in any dirty work. Item, three heads are better than one. So what about it?”

“Yes, my lad, what abcmt it?” .Sir John Carr stood surveying them with a ■grim smile. The smile relaxed into a grin as they stared at him. His sudden appearance had disconcerted them all.

“I’m not surprised at you being shocked by Terry’s forthrightness,” he told Peter. “Stronger men than you have been overcome. But for once his method of approaches quite right. This is no time for beating about the bush. Suppose you make yourself comfortable, and tell us the whole story?” Peter did so. No one could have resisted that invitation, or not gratefully responded to the warm sympathy of the three of them. Peter reflected ruefully that he had disliked Terry, and gone in awe of Sir John. But that was before he got to know them. “All right,” he said briefly. “Here

goes.” Once again he went over the familiar ground, much as lie had gone over it with Quayle a few minutes before. That earlier recital made the telling all the easier. He talked fluently, and they listened wide-eyed. He told them, as he had told Quayle: “I don’t expect you to believe it. f admit it’s the most l'antas ” “I believe every, word of it,” Sir John interrupted him. “Your Inspector Quayle may pride himself on distinguishing lies from the truth. But he hasn’t made a large fortune 'out of the knack. I have. I’m accustomed to backing my judgment. I’m backing it now. I’m with you. Terry, what about you ? And you, Lucy?” j . Terry .nodded. “Rings true ter me, all right.” . “Of course I believe you, Peter, said Lucy l indignantly. “What made yon think I wouldn’t?” . “Thank you, all of you,” said I eter earnestly. “You hardly know me, really Jf

“Stuff! What’s there to he grateful about?” said Sir John loudly. ‘‘* ou are telling the truth, aren’t you. The mining magnate was pacing the terrace. He spoke his thoughts aloud. “Tho two vital questions are: Why did Monte give a valuable tip like that, and the money to back it, to a perfect stranger? And, how did he know about JQolden Deeps himself?”

Mystery, Detection and Romance.

(Copyright).

Sir John smiled grimly. “It may interest you to know, young man, that for a wild moment I toyed with the thought that- Avon had got that information about Golden Deeps by breaking into the portfolio you carried for me yesterday! You see, your about just getting a hunch about Golden Deeps rang a great deal falser to me than the story you’ve just told. I knew about Golden Deeps, but I’m pretty certain no one else did. Anyway, tin portfolio hadn’t been touched. Sc Monte didn’t get his information that way . • “YVe’re so confoundedly handicapped by not knowing anything about the man!” he Avent on irritably. Can’t you remember anything he said to you that might throw some light on his motives?”

Peter put his head in his hands, and thought. When he looked up again there Avas a light of disbelief in his eyes.” . “You’ve thought of something?” said Sir John eagerly. Peter’s head Avas spinning. A sentence from Monte’s rambling discourse had recurred to him—a sentence that sent an unpleasant quiver doAvn bis spine. Fortunately he was saved the necessity of ansAA'ering. A black man in the white tunic and red sash, Avhich Avas the livery of the hotel, had come on to the terrace. His eyes quested and then lighted on Peter, lie hurried forward.

“I beg your pardon, sir, he said, in a deep, pleasant voice. “Mr Crawsby?’.’ Something about the mild broAvn eves was familiar. Peter nodded.

“I has a message for you fraivm my brother, sir,” said the man. “My brother, Mr Xosa. Here it is, sir.” He produced a folded note from hk pocket of his tunic, and Peter took it. The man retreated. Peter unfolded the note. Mr Xosa’s handwriting Avas large, careful and spidery. In green ink he had Avritten: “I can tell you tho name of an acquaintance of ’Air Monte. Would you please meet me outside the hotel in half-an-hour ?”

DON’T FAIL ME OR ELSE—! Peter found Mr Xosa patrolling the sunlit promenade in front of the hotel, his stick grasped in hands clasped behind his back, the Avide brim of his soft Avliite hat flapping in the sea breeze, his mild broAvn eyes speculative behind the large glasses. He turned to Peter with a smile that revealed strong white teeth.

“When the scent is high, the bloodhound comes quickly.’’ It Avas with, difficulty that Peter had broken away from his friends. He had felt impelled to keep to himself what was in Mr Xosa’s note; the reason being a sudden train of memory had warned him Avhat Mr Xosa might he about to reveal. The attempt to explain the note aAvay, ancl his oavii consequent departure, had not been entirely successful. He Avas Avorried by tho expression of doubt and growing fear that had been in Lucy’s eyes Avhen he vaguely exettsed himself and left them.

“Wo’vo only, got your word for it that the scout is high,” Peter reminded the little’Bantu. “But your note sounded promising. You seem to no a fast worker.” Ho hesitated. It might be necessary to know. “Does la spector Quayle have this information?” Mr Xosa shook his head. “It is locked in hero.” He .solemnly tapped his black forehead.

“Right.” Peter looked round. “There’s my car.” He Avas borfoAving tho idea from Quayle. “Wo can drive and talk at the same time. That ensures absolute privacy.” Mr Xosa nodded agreement. “Privacy,” he said, “is essential. Certain persons Avould give much for the information,”

They got into Peter’s two-seater. Mr Xosa folded bis hands tranquilly over his plump stomach. His black face was olive-smooth. The brown eyes were soft and untroubled. He settled himself comfortably, leaning back against the cushions. • “Ah !” he said, with a sigh of ecstacy. “An automobile! How T should like to own one.” They drove through tho town, past pavements thronged with bronzed holidaymakers in summer garb, the women’s frocks making brilliant splashes of colour, past the main shopping centre, past the high school and the Presbyterian Church, and into quiet suburbs. Attractive villas sheltered discreetly behind green walls of hedges flaming with crimson blossoms. Peter dropped speed. “Now,” he said. Mr Xosa watched the villas flow soitly. past. He sighed appreciation and his dark face glistened in the strong sunshine.

“Tracks in sand must often cross-,” lie said. “When they do, two stories are told instead of one. Sir John Carr lost a notecase. You have heard?”

Peter’s jaw tightened. An incredible suspicion was about to be confirmed. “I heard that you recovered it for him,” he said sharply. “What lias that got to do with—the other matter?” “I recovered Sir John’s note-case,"

ho agreed, after a pause. “It had been stolen by a notorious black crook called Tickey Charlie, employed as night porter at hotel. Very’strange,” he added softly, “that Mr Orion does not know until I tell him that Tickey Charlie is crook. He has my brother arrested instead . . . No matter for the moment. Investigate later, perhaps. “When I return the note-case to Sir John,” he continued, “I ask him if all contents are present and correct. That is the proper phrase? Yes. My English is very good, I. think,” ho said complacently. “To continue. Sir John examines wallet’s contents carefully, a.iu says, ‘Yes, Mr Xosa, thank you . very much. All is present and correct.’ But it wasn’t,” concluded Mr Xosa abruptly. Peter staved. “It wasn’t?”

“No.” Mr Xosa shook his beau mournfully. His mild eyes dwelt thoughtfully on a little, green , park which the car was circling restlessly. Between tho. trees they could glimpse the blue shimmer of the sea. “One item was missing. This.” With a conjuror’s sleight of hand gesture, ho produced a slip of white pasteboard. Peter took it lrmn him. On one side a few words had been scrawled in pencil. “MeetT me in the lounge at midnight. And this time don’t fail me, or else—!” He turned the,card over. On the other side was the printed inscription'. Mr Guy Monte. “You—-kept this? You found it in the wallet?” , Mr Xosa nodded. “It is interesting, is it not? Ot course, Sir John might have forgotten that he had had this in the note-case

when it was stolon. On the other hand, he has denied all knowledge of late Mr Monte. That is strange?”

“Why did you keep the ■ card?” Peter’s voice was harsh.

•Mr Xosa shrugged. “The little twig that has snapped tolls the hunter « story. I am a hunter. I thought:' ‘Here is a strange spoor. will: follow it, and see what happens.’ The message on the card is—not friendly.”

Peter unseeingly at the little park which they wore still circling. It was what lie had suspected—and, ironically enough, it was Sir John Carr who had himself implanted that suspicion. He had been so insistent that Mr Monte could not have known of the Golden Deep discovery. He had stated that he himself was almost the only person in possession of the information. And ho had asked Peter—had asked with some anxiety, the young man seemed now to recall—if there lmd been nothing in Mr Monte’s conversation to suggest how In* had got the precious information. And there had been. Even as .Sir John put the question, a couple of pregnant sentences floated into Peter’s head. Referring to the Carrs, Mr Monte had said: “'Don’t worry. I’m a sort oi friend of the family. Of old Carr himself, anyway.” There had boon a sort of jeer in his voice as he had said it; a note that oven at the time Peter had disliked. At the time, he had put it down to Mr Monte’s coarse mannerisms ; but now he read a. different significance into it. {To Be Continued).