THE ANNEXATION SOCIETY.

Auckland Star, Volume XLVII, Issue 50, 28 February 1916, Page 8

THE ANNEXATION SOCIETY.

(ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.)

.. By J. S. FEETCHEB.

CHAPTER XX. THE SCRAP OF NOTEPAPER. .Timniie unconsciously leaned further across the little table "at which he and Airs. Bywater had dined in such privacy. His mental ears pricked at his guest's last annooncement. "We're getting nearer to something," he said to himself. "This is promising. Ah!" he continued, aloud, "you saw him go out of the hotel at half-past eight yesterday morning and meet an-"' other man. Just outeide, eh?" "Scarcely just outside," replied Mrs. Bywater. - Tou see, 1 happened to be standing at that little window iii the office which looks bh - the front entrance and the street. I saw this Mr. Curtia walk out. He looked up and down the | street. A man came round the corner —you know it's only a few houses off. They met and spoke. And then " "Yes. then?" said Jimmic eagerly. "Then?" "Then they both went round the corner." replied Mrs. Bywater. "You didn't see the second man give Curtis anything?" asked Jimmie. "Nothing! They just met, spoke a word or two, 1 suppose, and'went away." "What sort of man''was this other chap?""' - -":"'" ' "Oh—something like Curtis. Ameri-can-looking. Of course, 1 only glanced at him. But the impression I retain is that he was—well, American." "Did you see Curtis come back?" inquired Jimmie, after a pause for reflection. "1 did. Because he came to the office window to ask for a time-table. And having got it, he stood in the hall for a few minutes, turning ft over. Then he handed it back and walked into the room where the letters are kept." "Good! I mean —good that you remember 60 much. Now, what time was that?" "A minute or two after nine." "And what time had the letters been delivered?" "Our morning mail is always in, and sorted into the pigeon-holes by half-past : eight." "So that the letters would be in by the time this man went out?" "Well, as a matter of fact, they were •being sorted then," answered Mrs. Bywater. "I saw the head porter carrying them into that room just as Curtis passed out." Jimmie reflected on this information: "And you say this fellow left the hotel during the morning?" "Left about noon—for Waterloo." "Well, I know something now, at any rate," said Jimmic. "Mrs. Bywater, that's the man who stole my package by substituting another for it. Tie probably got the dummy package from • the man outside. I can't explain certain things about how they managed the address, but I shall find that out in ' time. But I'm certain —certain, certain! —that that's how it's been done. ' And now I want to find this Curtis individual." "The police?" suggested Mrs. Bywater. "Not at present," replied Jimmie, shaking his head. "There are reasons. There are also good reasons why you shouldn't breathe a word of this to a soul. You shall know all about it later on." "You can rely on mc, Mr. Trickctt. I i only hope you'll find your stolen property. But what arc you going to do? . The man's gone." "I'll have to think," said .Tiinmic. "However, there's one thing I can do. • What room did this man have?" "Number Forty-three—door above • yours." replied Mrs. Bywater. "Is that room occupied to-night?" "It wasn't taken when I came out." "Was it occupied last night?" "No, it wasn't." "Very well. To-night, when we return, let mc have the key of that room. I want to examine it, to search it. I might find some trace." '- - Mrs. Bywater laughed. ! "I am afraid you will find nothing there," she said. "Why, of course, the maids would clear anything out. That is, if you're thinking of letters, papers— anything'of that sort." "I know enough of hotel life," ob- . served Jimmie, "to know._that things are left in rooms, 'however many chambermaids are turned into 'em. Men, Mrs. Bywater, have a trick of -throwing envelopes, torn-up papers, all sorts of things, into drawers, putting them behind ornaments, under the things on the dressing-table—l know! Men nrc, as a rule, untidy. Anyway, I'd like to have a look around that room." "Oh, yon can have the key all right," said Mrs. ißywatsr, with a smile. "iWhen we go back, let mc go ■in first. You follow a few minutes later, andl'll hand you the key in an envelope. That is,'.if the room hasn't been let." - -•; : ! | .

An hour later Jimmic found himself on his way upstairs at the hotel, the key of room forty-three in his hand. And as he went slowly along the corridor he was thinking, busily thinking, of the substitution of the dummy packet for the real one. It seemed to him that the best way to account for that was by endeavouring to imagine how the thing had been done. The dummy packet which had come into his possession bore all the Paris marks and signs and stampings which it ought to have had; without doubt it had come through the post in the ordinary regular manner. Yet —it had not been delivered at the hotel. Only one packet had been delivered at the hotel, the real one. How, then, had the dummy one come there in the real one's place? So far. Jimmie could get no light on that point, but no was conscious of a sure, instinctive certainty that it had come through the man whom Curtis had met outside. That man had handed Curtis the dummy packet, and Curtis had substituted it for the real one. They had taken the sporting chance of Kentover coming down for the letters during the half-hour of Curtis's absence, and the chance had gone in their favour. But—the postal marks? " That infernal dummy parcel came through' the post, addressed to the hotel!" said Jimmic for the fiftieth time. " How —how—how —did they get bold of it? Have these people some agent in the post-office. Such things are known. —one reads of 'em in the papers. Well, here's this blessed number forty-three." Number forty-three was a room ,at the end of a long corridor. The corridor, half-ligfffcd. was empty of life wttjiH Jimmic fitted the key to the lock, and let himself into this apartment which might or might- not —probably not, as he thought with a grim smile—reveal something to him. He felt for the switch of the electric light, turned the light on, looked round, and locked the door on himself. Looking round again, the room struck him as being suggestive of nothing but solitude and emptiness. " I expect. I'm on a wild goose chase," mused Jimmie. " However, while I am here, I'll have a careful hunt for anything that may be here." Secure in this knowledge that nothing could interrupt him, he proceeded to make a leisurely inspection of things. There was a wastepaper basket underneath the table—nothing in it. There was a blotting-pad on the table itself — nothing between the sheets; the pad itself had either not been used lately, or the chambermaid had jiißt stripped it down to a clean surface. There were numerous drawers in the dressing-table and in a chest; all were empty 6avc for clean sheets of lining paper. There was a tidy hanging on the dressing-table-nothing in it- There was a coal-box by the side of the hearth. Jimmie lifted the lid and found nothing but coal. He turned to the hearth itself, looking inside the fender —everything was scrupulously neat. He examined the ornaments , on the mantelpiece: there was nothing iin any of them. It appeared that the : room contained nothing but what a welli appointed bedroom in a fashionable hotel ought to contain. ' But Jimmie had no intention of 1 leaving any stone unturned. Looking ' at the grate he saw that the materials • for a fi re were laid within the bars. And 'he began; to reason. If the'chambermaid were laying a fire, be said, she • would take the coals from the coal-box. , Naturally, she would take anything • that had been thrown into the coali box. Supposing a man had torn up i anything, and thrown it into the coal- ' box? Also, it was only natural to suppose that a chambermaid would ; empty into the grate any small scraps .or things cast into the waste-paper 1 basket. The end of this reasoning was that Jimmie went down on his knees and bc•ran to pick the coal out of the grate, lump by lump, bit by bit. He came across scraps of paper at last, mixed up with other refuse. Most of it was already charred, partly burnt, He began to reason again. The last occupant of the room —Curtis, most likely had had a fire. He had thrown things into it. to burn. When the chambermaid tidied up the hearth and re-made the fire she had thrown back into the grate the partly consumed things that she had raked ou4 —as chambermaids and housemaids always did, so far as Jrmmie's observation had gone. Therefore, he must examine every scrap of charred or torn paper in that grate. And with scrupulous care and blackened fingers he patiently and carefully collected them together, and at last carried them over to the. table and began to examine them separately. In the j end he found that there was nothing at all to excite his curiosity or arouae his Buspiclon-rbut one fire-stained, ragged, irregular-shaned scrap of notepapcr— notepaper of the be3t quality, smooth, ■beautiful of surface—which had evidently been torn from the corner of the front page of a letter, ..and had somehow escaped the full force of tho flames into-w-hicb it had been thrown. Jimmie hold-fljh «p to fbe flight, cxamtafng it .ntxtemiy. All that was o n it was part of air address, deßeatery engraved. part of ft date, a word or ■too in a bold, bat distinctly feminine, handwriting:

• • . nham Manor ... ive . . . r 21st . . . member that I shall be in • . . Tuesday afternoon at Mrs. . . . important that . . . Paris on Jimmie put this scrap in his pocketbook, took punctilious care to restore the rest of the rubbish to the grate, arranged the coals as neatly as before, gave a final inspection to the room, and went away. He walked slowly downstairs, and handed the key back* to Mrs. Bywater, who gave him an inquiring glance. "Any result?" she asked quietly. "May be—may be," replied jimmie, cautiously. "I'll tell you later." He went up to his rooms, mixed himself a drink, filled and lighted his favourite pipe, and sat dbwn to think. Presently he summoned Kentover. "Kentover," be; said, "is there any work—book, directory. anything of that sort, you know—in which one can find the nain.es of all the principal country se^ts—halls, manors; that sort of thing—in England?" Kentover; mentally searched his stores of knc/wl.eiojgc- ■ ' ",' "I should • think - a gazetteer, sir," he suggested at last. "Of. course, sir, there are .the county directories." • "To-morrow morning," ' commanded •Timrxiie, "as' ; carly 86 yqu can after brcakfastv .go to-the best booksellers near -here-and-make inquiries.: Pvc told you what I want—get it. There must be some such work Hang it ; " he sail to iiiniSelf when retired. ' i maiy' have to, a score of. >fa*t volumes; but I'li'find out what that torn 'address rcally'is!—l'll',givo all tomorrow to that"job; • Something . . nham "Manor, and in some shire. I'll find it." But Oh the morrow Jimmie was otherwise occupied. As he sat at breakfast. Kentover having search of a bookseller. Packe wafTed in.. And Packc wagged his head at Jimmic in a way that indicated the gravity of his thoughts. "Look here, Trickett!" he said. "I'm afraid there's trouble ahead for you.' The police are oh the go! They want Miss Walsden." (To be continued daily.)