The Fellow Passengers:

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 504, 17 January 1906, Page 2

The Fellow Passengers:

OUR BRILLIANT NEW STORY.

NOW FIBST PUBLISHED.

A Mystery and Its Solution,

BY; RIVINGTON PIKE, Author of 'The Man who Disappeared,' 'London of the Past,' &c, &o

OUB ARRANGEMENTS WITH THE AUTHOR ARE THAT WE ALONE IN AUSTRALIA HAVE THE RIGHT TO SERIAL PUBLICATION.

CHAPTER X.—(Continued.) A passenger giving the name of Walter Buckle and the address 32, Edinburgh-terrace, Widdon, whose behaviour immediately after the collision was somewhat eccentric, is suspected of complicity. . . .. It ia reported that the police have clues, both as to the further movements of this person, and as to the whereabouts of the deceased's luggage, in which the missing bonds are probably bestowed.' Charlie read the whole account through with an unmoved face. 9 It's a deuced funny coincidence,' he remarked, referring apparently to the co-operation of blind chance with the police force in cutting short Bent's career. Bob was disgusted at his friend's lack of penetration. ' It's not that I mean,' he said excitedly. 'Look here! Read this other passenger's name and his address.* Charlia read them again. ' Walter B.pekle, of 32, Edinburgh-terrace, Widdon.' The sight of this last word enlightened him as to Bob's possible meaning. * Oh! Widdon man!' he remarked, airily. ' I see now. Yes, of course—you're a Widdon man, aren't you? Hot shop, Widdon! that's quite evident.* The sarcasm fell unheeded on Bob's ears. * Ycu don't quite understand—yet,' he said in a scared voice. ' That address the man gave is my friend's address; and the name is a bit like his name.' Charlie's fun disappeared in a moment He gave vent to a low whistle. ' The deuce! . . . You don't think it's him, do you?' he added. Bab stared blankly in front of him. ' I don't know what to think,' he exclaimed. 1 But I thought your friend was a 'good' sort,' Charley remonstrated. • Strait-laced, I mean, and all that.'

I suppose you could ges a local train on from WarriDgton ?' • Oh, yes.' ' You couldn't do better, then, than that,' said Charlie. Bob concurred gloomily, and decided to go. Charlie asked, in a considerate tone, if he wanted money, but Bob said he had plenty. It was then agreed that Charlie should see him off from Euston. CHAPTER XI. Early on this Saturday morning, Scotland Yard was duly apprised by Manchester that the Bent case was under investigation. And later on, as already mentioned, Inspector Marsh sent in a preliminary report of his discoveries—first, as to the luggage having been left behind in London, and secondly as to the movements of Mr« Walter Buckle.' The arrival of the latter at Euston, just before four o'clock a.m., by the Scotch mail, was easily established. The detective sent to follow up his track found that Buckle was seen to walk quietly out of the station. There were cabs at hand, but he did not take one; neither did he make use of the company's hotel. His only luggage at the time was the black Gladstone bag which he had brought from Gulby. Once outside the station, though, all trace seemed lo3t. Inquiries were made at numerous hotels, of policemen in the streets, and of cabmen; but nothing resulted. It appeared as if_ : Buckle had vanished into thin air, or rendered himself invisible, immediately he got outside the company's portals. Not much greater success attended another investigation, which was made concurrently with this—one, namely, into the whereabouts of the two trunks. Cabin-trunks are not rarities at Waterloo—not even when decorated with gaudy labels. Hencei the difficulty of a satisfactory identification was great—even though exact descriptions of trunks and owner were furnished, and though the arrival took place by a specified train.

Bob nodded dispiritedly. •" Ah, they're always the worst when they do go wrong,' said Charlie consolingly. • Look, for instance, at old a—' Bob jumped op with an oath whioh startled his friend. * yon,' he ejaculated. 'Stow that rot. You're on the wrong tack this time. It may be Walter the police want, but I'll lay my life he's innocent There's some mistake somewhere.' Charlie opened his eye 3 a little wider than usual 'All right—all right!' ha exclaimed. ' Keep your hair on I There's no need to get so excited.' «Look here, Charlie,' said Bob, in a voice of strong emotion. ' This is how the case stand?. ..." He ran rapidly over the main facts, insisting specially on the seeming connection between Walter's absence and the suspicions of the police; touching also upon his own close connection with the suspected man' 3 sister. ' Now, if you were me, what would you do,' he demanded, at the finish. Charlie pondered. *I don't see what you can do. If he's innocent, the police ' ' Oh, they may not and out their mistake for day 3,' said Bob impatiently. «They're so slow. I can't stand by and do nothing. Basides, I want to satisfy myself.' 'Weill' 'I can only see one thing—to go down to Widdon, and find out how things are.' Charlie did not seem to disapprove. •H'm—when?' ho asked. 'Ton:ghi?' ' If there's a train.' Charlie got, momentarily, more approving. ' I've an A B C 'here,' he said willingly. • I'll loo'--.* Bob sank wearily into a ehuir. •Train at ten o'clock,' Charlie announced. He glanced at his watch. ' That would be rather a tight fit,' he continued. * However, there's another at twelve. Gets to Warrington 5.15.

At length, a porter was found who remembered such a man as Bent, encumbered with just such luggage as tbat described. Tha passenger, he said, was alone, and in a great hurry —wanted to get to Charing Cross before 029 o'clock. The gentleman, too (this porter said), spoke with a distinct American accent. Altogether —barring the wish to go to Charing Cross, the correspondence was exact, and it seemed to the detective that he had struck the right trail. Happily, the porter knew the cabman who had driven this person away. It took time to find cabby, but he was unearthed at length.

Being questioned about his fare—and the luggage—he corroborated the porter in every detail. The description, too, that he gave, coincided very fairly with what was known of Bent's appearance. The detective quite expected to find, on questioning cabby, that the porter was mistaken in giving Charing Cross a3 the American's objective—or, else, if the latter had really mentioned Charing Cross to the porter, that he had done so a3 a blind. To the oilicial's astonishment, though, cabby also said Charing Cross. And, moreover, stoutly asserted that Bent and bis two boxes were actually landed there, in the courtyard of the South Eastern Company's station. Here was a dilemma. Bent certainly reached Euston Station just before half-past one. Yet there was evidence, seemingly weighty evidence, to the effect that he drove first to Charing Cross, with his luggage, reaching there about 12 -10. Ifc would be possible, of course—just possible, and not much more—to go on from the latter station to the former within the time. But where was the object —beyond the vague, just conceivable one of throwing pursuers (who, at that moment, did not exist on this

side the Atlantic), off the scent P The detective felt puzzled. 'And you left him at Charing Cross ?' he asked. 'He didn't obange his mind, and go on ?'

• No. He didn't.' 'His trunks were taken into the station ?'

,* They were—by one of the porters waiting outside.'

'And he himself went into the station after them ?' * He did—or else before them.' * Did you see any more of him, or of his boxes?' ' Of neither.' * Didn't see him speak to any one, I suppose?' ' Not except the porter.' ' H'm! . . . Stay long in the yard?' ' Hardly a second.' 'Ah 1 that explains it,' said the detective, with a gesture of relief. 'Well now, I think, if you don't mind, I'll get you to drive me to the same spot.'

The conversation had taken place inside Waterloo Station. Within ten minutes, the inquisitive official was deposited in the courtyard of the S. E. company's terminus, and was requesting the cabman to point out, if he could, the porter who had handled the luggage. Cabby was not sure. But after a little consideration he pointed to one of the men. ' I think that's him,' he said. ' Though, I don't swear to him.' As it happened, be had guessed right. And the porter, being an intelligent man, recalled the circumstance.

'Certainly,' he said, 'I remember the gentleman well. He was alone, and said he was going by the 1.5 to Dover—fast train for the Ostend boat. I wanted to take his boxes right away to the platform, but he wouldn't have that. Said he was waiting for a friend to turn up, and might change his plans. So then I put 'em down in a corner, oat of the way. I was called away then, but meant to keep an eye on 'em. Last I saw of him, he was going into the first-class refreshment room.'

'Well. . . . what happened then?*

'Can't tell you,' said the porter frankly. 'Ten minutes later, when I came to look for the boxes, they were gone. But whether they'd been taken in charge by another porter, or what, I cannot say. I neither saw them nor the man himself again.' The detective saw the two possible explanations. Either ihey had been put into the cloak-room, or they had been taken on, to the Continent, perhaps, by a confederate - the ' friend * Bent had spoken of. The former theory, being the easiest to test, was the first he chose to go upon. It was soon negatived, though, by the evidence of the cloak-room books. The counterfoils were examined, and showed that no such parcel of luggage had been put in, about the time named. Nor did the officials remember any such deposit—then or since. Whatever became of the trunks, they were not stored away there. The Scotland Yard man next tried, one by one, various porters who were likely to have handled the trunks. But they, one and all, professed complete ignorance of the matter. He found it impossible to ascertain from these men whether the boxes were sent on by train, or taken away somewhere 6lse, or, in fact, anything about them; also, whether Bent did or did not meet the ' friend' of whom he had spoken to the first porter. In fact, from the moment that the trunks were deposited in the corner, and their" owner disappeared into the' buffet, all trace of both was lost. The case was in a nutshell. At 12.40 the whereabouts of the trunks was known. Between then and 12 50 they were spirited away—no one knew how or where.

As a slight consolation to the detective, additional evidence was forthcoming which placed the ownership of these boxes beyond a doubt. The porter who took them off the cab had noticed their gorgeous labels. He was not quite sure of the name of the hotel, but thought 'Palatine' was about right. He was certain, however, that the town mentioned was Southampton, 1 1 guessed he was American from his talk,' the porter said. ' And when I saw the ' Southampton' on th 6 labels, I knew I was right. I remember wondering, at the time whether it was necessary to come through London in order to get to Dover.'

The detective now turned his attention to following up Bent's movements. The facts he had to go upon were clear: at 12.40 Bent was inside Charing Cross station; while shortly before 1.30 he arrived at Euston. The journey between the two must, of course, have been made in a cab or private carriage. To find this, was the next—and a moat necessary—step. The cabman who drove him—that it was a cabman was a natural assumption—might be able to throw some light on the whereabouts of the trunks; or he might be able to speak as to the presence or absence of a confederate. In any case, his testimony would be a valuable link in the chain which was being forged. Alas! though, he was not forthcoming. The detective hunted high anl low, put artful questions to drivers who patronised the station, and interrogated anew the porters who vait for fre3h arrivals. It was all in vain. The Saturday night closed in, and found him still in the dark.

CHAPTER XII. We will return now to Mrs Broadhurst, and deal with the further

events whioh transpired at Widdon, on the Saturday afternoon and evening. When we left the two women (at the close of Chapter VII.) they ware in momentary expectation of a letter from Walter—a letter that would explain his curious proceedings during the past twenty-four hours. They were still ignorant, remember, of the stigma which had been put upon Bent, of the exact nature of the police investigations at Gulby, and of the interest felt by Inspector Marsh in the doings of the eccentric passenger. The moment was drawing near, though, when they would be roughly enlightened. The postman was due about four o'clock, and on this round, letters posted in London up to the previous midnight would, in the ordinary course, be delivered. He was watched for feverishly by the women, Quite unconscious, though, or disregardful of the interest felt in his movements, he went from door to door with his usual alert indifference.

There was a letter for No. 32! Hardly had it dropped through the door-slit, on to the matting in the ' lobby,' when it was seized by Mrs Broadhurst. To her disappointment, though, it was not from Walter, nor was it addressed to her. ' It's from Bob,' she said, almost in tears, as she handed it to Nellie. Nellie seized it eagerly. She forgot for the moment that it would reveal nothing, the telegrams, which were of later date, having shown that Bob was in a state of ignorance. Mrs Broadhurst, likewise, overlooked, this point, and, disregardful of the privacy of lovers' letters, glanced over Nellie's shoulder as the latter began to read. The letter contained no facts which would be new to 'he reader. It dealt, merely (with lover-like fulness), in topics arising out of Walter's visit, closing with a account of the parting at Euston. One sentence, though, near the end, alarmed the women:

'Tell Walter (it ran,) I hope he didn't get to blows with that Yankee. The Yank certainly deserved it, for, of all the cheeky tricks I've ever seen, his, taking up "Walter's place in the doorway—without a word of excusewas about cheekiest '

The idea of a quarrel was suggested by this —a quarrel on the journey home. Had such an event really happened? If so, was this the explanation, or one of the explanations, of Walter's absence ? It might be. 'Didn't -Sergeant Bullough say something about an American ?' Mrs Broadhurst whispered faintly. Nellie; and the two-women gazed at each other in dire alarm.

'Can't we do something?' Mrs Broadhurst demanded, with sudden fierceness. *I shall die of fright if this goes on much longer. Where is Walter? What has he done? Why doesn't he coma home ?'

Nellie, who was more practical, had been considering whether any movement was possible. She folded her hands now in despair. 'I don't see what we can do,' she said gloomily. • We're only womenWe must wait and see what will happen next.' What did happen was a visit from Mr Snape. This gentleman, being busy, had spent the Saturday afternoon at his office. He had telegraphed to Cox's, as promised, and had received a reply. Like the women, he had been hoping that the afternoon post would bring some letter from Broadhurst—but, like them, had been disappointed. He now came over to see if they could throw any further light on his clerk's delay in returning. •Well, Mrs Broadhurst,' he said. 1 Have you any news yet from your husband ?' Mrs Broadhurst shook her head apprenhensively, and muttered ' No.' ' Dear, dear!' exclaimed Mr Snape. 1 This is getting serious. ' Can't you throw any light at all on your husband's absence V

1 Indeed, sir,' said piteously, * I am utterly in the dark. lam quite bewildered how to account for it.' Her extreme distress affected Mr Snape, and caused him to put aside his own annoyance. Whether the clerk was behaving badly or not, the clerk's wife was certainly to be pitied. ' Tut, tut 1' he exclaimed. 'He might have sent you word what was keeping him, even if he thought fit to keep me in the dark. By the by, I telegraphed to Cox's this morning, and got a reply saying that those papers were duly handed over yesterday. I thought it just possible, before I learnt this, that there might have been some little hitch in that quarter—but, as you see, there wasn't.'

Mrs Broadhurst bowed her head submissively. ' I can't make it out,' she said in a low roice.

' The papers in question are very important,' Mr Snape continued. • "We can't go on with the case until we get them. However, as to-mor-row is Sunday, perhaps there'll be no further delay. If he doesn't turn up by Monday morning, I shall have to——to—to consider the matter.' He was on the point of concluding with a much stronger expression—a threat, in fact—but checked himself, out of regard for Mrs Broadhurst's feelings.

After a few formal remarks, Mr Snape took himself away, leaving Mrs Brcadhurst still more unhappy than he found her. The clouds which were gathering over the poor woman's head were very dark and threatening ; a terrible storm seemed about to burst upon her; while she looked here and there for shelter, but looked in vain. (To be continued.)