CRIMSON CLOAK.

Ashburton Guardian, Volume 63, Issue 220, 28 June 1943, Page 6

CRIMSON CLOAK.

SERIAL STORY. A Thrilling Story Centred Round the Activities of a Mysterious Woman. THE GIRL IN THE

(Copyright).

(By J. R. WILMOT.)

CHAPTER XX. “I WANT DAYNTON FOLLOWED” Mannisher was heartily thankful to get out into the air again. He felt that he had done a good afternoon’s work. He would not, however, have been quite so easy in his mind had he known what, was .taking place, in that dim and dirty'room he had recently left. The big man was pouring out a glass of beer for himself and for his companion who had entered almost as soon as Mannisher had left.

“It’s a cinch, m’boy,” he was saying. ‘‘This bloke Mannislier’s a sucker if ever there, was one. All we’ve got to do is to locate the looney and the girl who’s supposed to be pulling off the job for ’im, get the goods and clear right out. If the stuff’s as good as I think it is, it’ll be a long, long time before we’re back in clear old London.”

The newcomer was in striking contrast to the big man. He was smaller . . . move stocky and, oddly enough more refined in speech and manner. “You sure lie’s on the level, Boss? No phoney stuff?” “Level or nothin’,” growled the big man. “Just you let me touch the sparkler that’s all.”

“When do we start?” “You’ve got the passports?” “All Okay, Boss.” “That’s fine. Pop along and squint at the time-tables. Dover-Ostend you know."

The other nodded, crammed a black hat on his head and left the big man to his beer.

Meanwhile Superintendent Ash at Leverton was growing more and more irritable.

Inspector Sumpter had returned from his London visit with a report from the makers of the electric burglar alarm that was far from being encouraging.

“They say that they cannot account for the movements of all their employees on the night in question,” lie announced in a voice redolent of futility. “In fact, sir, they were inclined to be highly indignant at the smallest suggestion that any member of the staff could be in any way under suspicion.” “So we’ve been wasting the taxpayers’ money sending you to London, Sumpter. Is that it?” Ash made a wry face as he sat in one of Gervaise I everton’s lounge chairs and filled his pipe.

“That’s what it looks like, sir. I called at The Yard and saw Inspector Murdoch. He’s had no reply yet to the all-stations call about the diamond.” Asli grunted again.

“You know, Sumpter,” he confessed, in a low voice. “I’ve got a very unpleasant feeling that someone here’s holding out on us. I don’t think we have been given tlie full facts.” Asli struck a match and applied it to his pipe. “There’s another thing, Sumpter. A nephew’s arrived down here. Nice boy. In the Sudan police so he says. You might get through to The Yard again and check up on him. His name’s Daynton—Gerald Daynton. I fancy he’s okay, but I haven’t yet tested his alibi for the other night.” When Sumpter had again taken his leave, Superintendent Ash pulled at his chin. The action Avas symptomatic of his perplexity and irritation. It ivas a queer life, he reflected, and this just about the queerest of all cases he could recall. He lifted the telephone and asked for the Chief number. The Chief ivas out, but it Avas arranged that the Superintendent should make his report to the Chief at eight o’clock that night. It AA'ould, of course, depend on Avhat the Chief’s reactions were just how far he Avas inclined xo leave the matter in the hands of the Superintendent, or whether he Avould decide to call in the assistance of Scotland Yard.

For himself, Superintendent Ash normally considered himself fully competent to deal with the most difficult of cases Avitliout intervention from Scotland Yard experts.

But. noAv as he left the room that Leverton had unhesitatingly placed at his disposal he began to wonder Avhether he might not persuade the Chief to relieve him of the responsibility of further investigation. As Ash opened the door leading into the hall he was surprised to see Gerry Daynton complete with hat and coat, descending the staircase. “Hullo,” greeted Ash Avith au undisguised elevation of his dark eyebrows. “Going for a stroll before dinner?” ,

Gerry Daynton smiled as he shook his head.

“I’m packing up,” he announced, quietly. “There’s a train to London at six-thirty. I thought I’d catch that.” “What’s the big idea?” asked Ash, secretly annoyed that Daynton Avas clearing out before those alibis had been tested.

“Didn’t I tell you I suspected I Avas not exactly Avelcome?” queried Gerry. “Well, I’m not one to remain Avhere I’m not Avanted. That’s Avhy I’m go-

ing.” Ash pursed his lips. He A\ r as telling himself that he didn’t like the look of things. “That the only reason?” he inquired.

It Avas iioav Gerry’s turn to feel surprised. He resented the Superintenden’s question. It sounded a little bit too much like a cross- examination.

“I haven’t thought of any other, retorted the young man.

“I thought you’d made up your mind to stay on here and lend me a hand?” The Superintendent’s voice sounded as if he were complaining, and that he was also labouring under a sense af grievance.

Gerry’s native instinct warned him to be on his guard.

“That had been my intention,” he replied, quietly and with a. steady voice. “I feel, however, that I can’t hope to contribute much in the way either of assistance or suggestion.” Superintendent Ash was never a man to mince words.

“That means that you’ve been ‘gotat’ by the family,” he decided without suggestion of finesse. “Well, I suppose it can’t be helped, but I always imagined, Daynton, that a police officer, whether on holiday or not, was above coercion.”

An ugly gleam flashed into Gerry Daynton’s eyes. Ash noticed it instantly and did not know whether he ought to feel pleased or sorry. (To be Continued).