A DEEP GAME

Auckland Star, Volume XLIII, Issue 58, 7 March 1912, Page 10

A DEEP GAME

OB TTTE HONOTTR OT THE TRZVEIXA2TS.

By MRS. DE WINTER BAKER, (Author of "The Sin of Carta's,'' "Sir BUndford'a Protegee." "For Weal or Woe/' etc

CHAHti: XLVI 1.-Continued. :>- the exprv. rushed on ito»iav up 11.r0,..'., ihc greon field, and 'rd'-rows ■■• I'"'' " i:i - in|l Srirr "-' rse " '"' " "".. I '..,..■ ; jfii- .•orunanion frii to .1:- ii —my tli-ll pi."-' I"' l -' m-di.ue .i .'re. •'Your be-l plan, I; 1 may -u?ge«l it, •ii v,. m ...-> ,T-ii"'it to vour si-ter, will be to _:•> -■ r.ii,..n •., . . , and wait there. Mi*. UsceJes. -aid U-l- ---.;.,,■. cavalier. "I havr vour address. 1 will "to 'trai">U to Aldgate. see this fellow then. when I've heard his story": I'" ™""' 1 "P hr,c Und ho? him over in yr.u ■-.: itay«»nter. docs that -uitV "Splendidly! But y«ii won, keep me waiting long?" asked Lett.'.*. *Uh a Wirtful lock in h-r lovely eye?. ••Not a minuf longer than 1 can help.'' vowed < "010. . Punetnal to lime the twin rolled into Taddington. HaMiig -ecu Lett ice safely •into a cab. with h«T boxes .-rowed on top. Cole sent her off to rViysyter; with, a warm hand-bake and a pay flourish, bidding her keep eherrf.il and rely on him to do hi« best for her. Then he turned his atention to the .oerious business before him. Leaving his Knit case at the cloakroom, lie chartered' a taxi and went up to the top of Hounds-, ditch, in Bi*hopsgate Street, and paid it off there. He deemed it advisable to approach Pigeon Alley on foot, as _t.ie arrival of a taxi in those quarters might draw unwelcome attention to his vi.-it. It took him some little time to run Pigeon Allev to earth in the maze of mean street's and byways that he now entered, but by dint of removing his Deck linen and tie., turning up the collar of his coat, and pulling his hat well down over his eyes, he was able to make carxtious inquiries without exerting suspicion. A few minutes later he stood before No. 10 Pigeon .Alley—a dilapidated tenement building, grimy of aspect and foul of odour. Groups of dirty children sprawled about the gutter. Slatternly women in varying stages of deslmbfle gos-siped at their open doors. ICvillookiiig loafers of foreign appearance eved his expensive clothes with sidelong glances.

Fully aware of the risk he was running in thus intruding upon these dan-jTPr-itis quarters. Cole did not tarry at the door of No. 10—or rather at the place where the door had once been. He walked boldly in. A rickety wooden staircase, innocent of balustrade (it had been broken up for firewood long ago) faced him. He ascended, treading cautiously <»n the rotting wood, and keeping close to the dirt-smeared, sweating wall. \ warren or doorless rooms —some of tl em protected by filthy ragged sheets—-n-el his gaze as he came to the first floor. An overgrown lad of pronounced Hebraic features slouched out suspiciously at the sound of Cole's approach. "You know any one here called' Cmer?" asked Cole, flashing a shilling ostentatiously. The Jewish lad pounced on the coin like a hawk and promptly transferred it te his mouth, glancing furtively round a< he did so. to make Bun- that he had not been seen.

"Too floor—first on right," he ansv. trod. He regarded him as some sort o* police emissary, and added: "You a nark?"

"^°—just u friend." responded Cole. with a smile. The young Jew drifted anay downstairs, and Cole climbed on to the top floor forthwith.

The first room on the right, to which | he had been directed, was remarkable in I that it possessed a door, and. still more remarkable, in mat the door was locked,' as Cole found when he gentlv turned the' handle and pushed. He stood back and scratched his head puzzled as to how he should proceed! .from the other rooms on the landing a babel of Bounds proceeded—anr-ry aUercations punctuated by violent thuds, and above all, the ceaseless, penetratiu-* howl of a starving infant. Cole looked around him in disgust and amazement Was it possible that humanity could sink to +llOll abysmal depths? Suddenly the door -which he faced was rattled from within. He crept into the darkest comer of the dark landing and vatohed.

_ -i thin, saturnine countenance protruded from the door, followed by a figore whose identity not even the unaccustomed <Jobhes that -overed it could conceal. Mark Jason—no longer in clerical garb, but in a suit of "rough bine serge and a bowler hat, crept cautiously out and went down the stairs. .As soon as his back was turned Cole tiptoed to the door and tried the handle. To his joy, the door opened this time, and he entered a small, low-ceilinged room, dark and stuffy. A candle puttered fitfully in an empty bottle set on a packing case.

A dismal, droning .sound came from what he had firet of all taken for a bundle of dirty rags on the floor in tin; farther corner of the room: "Les-haw'g-'down er Leshaw g'down er £htraa—a!"

The drunken song tailed awav to a sucking noise and a grunt. Picking up the candle. Cole held it aloft over the rag bundle, and gazed down at a pitiable Bight. Ragged, unkempt, his unshorn beard swash with liquor, the remains of a man lay there, a bottle to his lips. The right of the candle flashed in his eyes and he 6tared up in a muddled fashion. With something *kin to a «i£h of relief. Cole saw that the man was not yet jn the last stages of intoxication. Something might he got ont of him still.

"Are you Mr. William Omer?" he asked, slowly and quietly. The man put the bottle down an«l struggled to raise himself into a sitting position.

"Dnnno!" he answered, and fell batJk again.

"Because, if you are, there's the price of a bottle of brandy waiting for you,' Cole went on.

"Brandy—where? T,or' luramr, I ain't 'ail a deshont drop of shphrit rauneh an' munsh!"

"Then you are William Ornei!" "Yus—l haui. Woleher think I wasting of England?" came the very indignant n-piv. a ff \.hn man held the .bottle to lis Lp& and took a deeu pull.

UHAJrTiCK XIA'JU. THE TRUTH AT M£l"

Resolutely wul with untiring p»Uenc«, Sorn.jn Cole t>at about the unpietwuit 'aAfc i»i refuting Aii VViUiiua Uuiw to In tins initial stage, it was a long and

I had locked the door to avoid interruption, and now sat on the floor by ttw side of the rag bundle that served. William Omer for a bed. while the befudI died man. propped up in a sitting posi- | tion. regarded him with glazed, silly eyes.

"What's this you're drinking?" asked Cole. Picking up the bottle, he sniffed it. "Methvlated spirits! Good Heaven, you'll poison yourself! There'll be agood brandy lor you in a minute if vcu'll trv and answer a few questions."

He drew a half crown from his pocket ami laid it on hi- kness. Mr. Omer re gardexl it thoughtfully. He had been rudely interrupted at the commencement of ii quiet little evening's entertainment all "on his own,"' and was in a somewhat petulant inuod. Bat when Normair f'ole covered the h-ilf crown with another on-, he was inclined to cheer up a little. "Wot's ver garner' he demanded sus-piciou--.lv. "Just" a little friendly chit with you, Mr. Omer. No harm done, and pood money in your pocket. Think of the brandy you can buy." "You're a nark—that's wot you are, observed Mr. Omer. with sudden em-

pi) WIS. _ j "Not a bit of it. I've come here with, a message from you wife." Cole made uiong shot, but a pretty shrewd one. as he knew when he saw the man's eyes flicker. "She'll be coming to see you presently." he went on. The man roaohed absently for the! spirit bottle, but Cole pushed it away. •'Xo —you'll have brandy presently. Much better for you, yon know," he coaxed. "1 don't want to see "er!" growled Mr. Omer. "S'long as she -ends me my twenty bob a week, I'm awright." "What was Mark -Jason doing here!" asked Cole"Wotcher want to know for? 'E would'nt spring a dollar, curse 'inr!" "But I will, though. Here it is waiting for you, if you'll only answer." "Said 'e was off abroad, and not to tell Grace, if she come up ere." was the reluctant answer. "When were you married to Grace Jason?" "Long time ago. You're a police nark —that's wot you are." "How long ago?" "Wot's that to do wiv you?" "1 want to hand over this dollar and let you go to sleep again." Norman Cole's reasoning appealed strongly to Mr. Omer iu his present condition. At -thus critical moment his questioner produced a glittering sovereign and laid it on top of the two half crowns. "One pound ftve for a few answers to a few questions." .said Cole, and that clinched the matter. Mr. Omer took a deep breath. The sight of the money -sobered hin; as nothing else could have done. "Git on," he observed. "You're a nark —but you've got the cash. Arsk away. "How long ago were you married to Grace Jason?" "'Bout nineteen year." "Where were you married?" "Registry Office, Kensington." "Any children?" "One girl!" "That girl called Margaret?" "Yus —'ow do you know?" "Never mind. Was the girl's birth registered?" "Yus —same office." "Did you ever know a man called Sir Thomas Trevellan?" j "X.us-r:'e .JW|»-» good j "What were you before you'married i Grace Jason?" I "Orfis messenger to Sir Thomas— I that's wot I wos." "And what was Grace Jason?" ".Sir Thomas' typist." Cole paused to meditate for a moment. His typist! The whole story vnn beginning to dawn upon him. "Ain't you done yet? I've got a horful thirst on me," quoth William Omer, with a prodigious yawn. Cole collected his thoughts rapidly. "Just a few more questions," he said affably. "Tell Sir Thomas know you and Grace Jason were married?" "No."

"Why did your wife leave yon?" '•She got Dl after the child was born, so she left me and took it away to he? brother in the country."' "'What did yon do?" "1 chucked the orfis—got sick of it." '"Did you go to your wife?" "No."

'\Seud ber any money?" " 'Adn't got none to send." Cole stopped again for a moment at this point. This, of course, explained Die begging letters which had been written to Sir Thomas. "Your wife tame hack, to you afterward?" he resumed. "Yus—said she'd got a job down in Cornwall and was going to take the child down with "er. Promised to pay me twenty bob a week to keep out o! her way. I said 'Done!'" •And you've had your twenty shillings a week regularly and haven't done a stroke of work for eighteen years. The other day, under instructions from your wife and Mark Jason, you sent a wire to Sir Eric Trevellan and signed it 'Lettice.' Am 1 right?" 'Tuffickly—you're a marvel. But you're a, nark, and narks knows everything. Come on—'and oyer the pelf. I'm tired o' narks." "Will you sign the story if I write it out for yon?" *' 'Ere! 'Old 'ard. You said tweatyfive bob for answering questions, not for writing." "11l make it forty—two golden sovereigns, Mr. Omer." •'Done —I'll sign anything for two jimmy o' goblins." Cole pulled out his poeketoook and a fountain pen, and proceeded to set out the story of William Outer's, marriage, and .the birth of Margarpt in full. With a deal of assistance and much labour, William Omer appended a tremulous signature thereto and held out his hand for the money. "One more question before J go," aaid Cole, replacing pen and pocketbook with a satisfied smile. "Have you any idea of what your wife and Mark Jason have been up to all this time?" "No—and f don't want to; s'long as 1 gets ray twenty hob a week regular, and ain't bothered," was the casual reply. Ten minutes later Cole was tearing westward as fast as a taxi could buzz. He .buttoned on his collar and adjusted his tie in the small strip of mirror, then sat back and smiled. By this time Mr. William Omer would be happily drunk again, and if Grace Omer found him, she would get nothing out of him. Meanwhile the amateur detective was quite ready to hand over his job to one of the regular profession. Calling at Scotland Yard, he had a brief interview -with one if the inspectors who knew him well, and a plainclothes man left for Pigeon Alley five I minutes later. | Returning to the waiting taxi, Nor- , wan Cole now gave the address of Sir J Erie's rooms in Halt Moon-street. I He ««t back a little wearily in the->eab J —4t had beta a tuny day.