The Missing Mannequin

Auckland Star, Volume 246, Issue 246, 16 October 1926, Page 34

The Missing Mannequin

By KENNAWAY JAMES. j

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. The story opens in the private boudoir office of MADAME RENTOUL, the celebrated Bond Street costumiere, discussing with her manageress, EIREEN MORTON. the scarcity of mannequins worthy of her salons, and bewailing the fact that her only London rival. MONSIEUR PAUL* ARNOT. has often succeeded in obtaining beautiful girls where she has failed. Her nephew. AUBREY BLADE, declares that he followed a wonderful girl that morning to a pawnshop in Long Acre, from which uc concluded she was down in her luck. He determines to find her. and succeeds. The girl, whose name is VERITY USE, I* engaged by Madame Reutoul, to the secret chagrin of Kireeu Hortnn. who hopes to secure her employer's nephew for a husband. Meanwhile, M. Arnot is curious about Verity, and sends :i voting barrister friend. KENNEDY BUTTS. to n reception. Kennedy, who lias taken with him a friend named CLARE SKATON, meets Verity after her charming display of gowns. Clare notices that Verity has fallen in love with | Kennedy. She casually tells M. Arnot, and the wily old Frenchman, knowing Kennedy to be hard up, offers him £1000 if he can induce Verity to leave the rtentonl establishment and join his own. Kennedy agrees to try. and gets Clare to invite Verity to her flat to tea. At this meeting Keunedy falls in love with her. an-.l thus finds himself in a delicate position. MADAME REXTOUL arranges a mannequin parade on a Scottish express, prior to which she receives a mysterious visit from her husband. fJEOROE PARSONS, from whom she parted years ago. The mannequin parade on the rnpress is a great success. Kennedy Betts is there to keep an eye on Verity, but at the end of the journey she is found to have completely disappeared from the train. CHAPTER VII. A Surprise For Aubrey Blade. "'Completely disappeared." Aubrey spoke the words in a manner which clearly showed his resentment at Kennedy's interference. "My name is Kennedy Betts. and T happen to be a friend of Miss Lane's." said Kennedy, without any outward sign of anger. "I'm naturally anxious to know what has become of her. and I was hoping that the story which is goimr the length of the train was only a rumour, but evidently it is not." "No, it is not," said Aubrey. "Is there anything else I can tell you?" "Not at present," responded Kennedy, "but I can quite see that you are a man who ought to be dealt with eventually. I expect we shall meet again." Kennedy threw out the words at random, in case Aubrey was in any way concerned with Verity's disapearance. It was Kennedy's theory that the affair had been worked by a Press anent, though he did not know of Aubrey's employment of Bartlett. For the moment Kennedy was inclined to look on the matter as a parallel to an actress' periodic loss of her jewels, only he knew that in this case Verity would not have been the inspirer of such a scheme. But in this he was wrong, as he was later to learn. Verity had disappeared to the order of no Press agent, and presently, when the train had at last steamed majestically into one of Glasgow's great stations, orders were given for a message to be sent along the 'line for searches to be made in case Verity had fallen from one of the windows. No one could throw the slightest light upon her disappearance. Several girls averred that they had spoken to her shortly before she had been missed, but who really saw her last it was impossible to dis- ■••■■-. \Vhere, then, was she, unless she ■* lifeless on the line, as she must .v. i. J.;c had fallen out of a rushing train? Assured by Aubrey that she could do nothing, Madame Rentoul went to the hotel near the station, and retired to the room which she had booked in advance, whilst the other mannequins followed her example and went to the room allotted to them, where they sat discussing the mysterious disappearance of Verity, who had become remarkably popular among them. Meanwhile Eireeii Horton stayed in the. station with Aubrey, waiting to see what was the result of the telegraphed inquiries. Once, when they had visited the stationmaster's office, they had encountered Kennedy Betts, who had been there also to ask if there were any news.

But several hours passed without there being any news of Verity, and eventually Kennedy had no alternative but to go to his own hotel, from his bedroom in which he could telephone at intervals to the station officials. Before retiring, however, he sat in the lounge and drank a whisky and soda while he thought over Verity's fate. Ue had begun to discount the idea of a Press agent. Nor yet could he imagine a girl of Verity' temperament casting herself through the window, which she must have done if she had not been thrown out. But who would throw her out? Surely no one acting on behalf of Madame Rentoul, for Verity had become the mainspring of the Rentoul establishment. This, then, disposed of Aubrey and Eireen Horton, though of the latter he could not be quite sure. He was a good judge of character, and in Madam? Rentoul's designer he had sensed a woman who would stop at nothing if she were thwarted.

It was not slow-to cross Kennedy's mind that Eireen might be jealous of Verity, but the physical impossibility of her having disposed of her rival made Kennedy dismiss the thought from his mind. As for Aubrey, he was dependent upon the Rentoul establishment for his living, and it seemed certain that he could not have had a hand in the girl's disappearance, unless he were acting under a strdnger wj.ll than his own. No, the affair was a mystery, a baffling and almost heart-rending mystery, for he was now sure of his love for Verity. Had there been any need for confirmation of this it could have been found in his presence upon the train, for he was not there on behalf of Paul Arnot. He had decided that he could nqt use Verity as a means of earning money. Her mention of the mystery attaching to Madame Rentoul, added to the remarks of Paul Arnot, however, had, with his dislike of Aubrey Blade and Eireen, given him an uncanny feeling that she was in bad company. It was for this reason, and the fact tha. he hop<;d for further opportunities of meeting her, that he had travelled up to Scotland on the train. Further, he had found that he could profitably visit some solicitors there.

And now he was sitting there feeling like a beaten man, for the girl whom he had intended to safeguard was now— he knew not where.

He was just about to retire when he heard a voice he knew, ordering the waiter to bring a drink similar to his own and presently the figure of Aubrey Blade came round the- pillar by which he was sitting. The encounter was too close to he ignored by either. "Oh, you're here, are you?" said Aubrey, dryly.

"Apparently." replied Kennedy laconically. Then he added: "You seem to. be behaving rather oddly al>out this ' business. "What's the matter?" | "It is Madame RentoiiTs wish that! followers of Miss Verity Lane should, be kept at a distance —always." j "I see. You refer to mc as a "fol-. lower.' do you" asked Kennedy. "Call it what you like. Perhaps 'hanger-on' would be better," said ' Aubrey, carelessly mistaking the look in Kennedy's eye for one of part-sub-mission. "You see. a girl in the position of Miss Verity Lane needs some protection. She can't be allowed to ' be everyone's prey. What?' 'j Aubrey had grown bolder with Ken- j nedy's quietness and had decided to j make it quite clear that Kennedy's; interest in Verity must cease. For, had ; not Madame Rentoul promised him two ' thousand pounds on the day that he! married Verity Lane and "kept her in , the firm?" | "Yes. she needs protection, poor girl. I It's a pity she had none on this un- ' fortunate journey." said Kennedy, "and as for mc being a hanger-on, seeking her as my prey, well "and here Kennedy | rose slowly from his chair. "If you're not out of this lounge in one minute 111 thrash you to within an inch oi j your life, or until I'm stopped." I At that moment the waiter arrived | with Aubrey's whisky and soda. ( "Take it to the gentleman's bedroom," said Kennedy. The waiter stood hesitating for a moment expecting the order to be confirmed by Aubrey. "Tell him to do as I say," snapped Kennedy, whereupon Aubrey gave t'.ie '■ waiter a nod as though to say he would ■ remain behind to deal with Kennedy, i "I'll be up presently,'' he added. j "Now then," said Kennedy when the, waiter had gone. "You heard what I ' said. One minute. And if you dare to let mc sec you anywhere about thi>. hotel in the morning you won't even get a minute to escape." Whilst he spoke. Kennedy had been buttoning up his coat, for he meant what lie said. Fortunately for Aubrey he was able to appreciate the fact. His face turned paler as he realised his danger, for he knew instinctively that he could be no match for so determined a man as Kennedy Betts. He therefore did the only thing possible lor i: man of his kind to do. He turned on his heel and walked away. At that hour there was no one else in the lounge and the scene had been entirely between themselves. Presently Kennedy pressed the bell for the waiter. "Bring mc another whisky and soda," he said. For some time he stayed. in the lounge and then he paid a visit to the station in the hope that news of Verity might have been received. But he was disappointed.' "From reports the line seems to have been pretty well searched," said a surly inspector, "but the body hasn't been found." The inspector's use of the word "body" caused Kennedy to shudder. The mere thought of that lovely creature lying mangled appalled him. "Looks as though there was somebody waiting at an arranged for her to fall—or be thrown out. There's no knowing what to expect when these actresses get mixed up with men." Kennedy turned away with a feeling of disgust and made his way back to his hotel where he at once went to his bedroom. Twice during the night he telephoned to the station, only to find that nothing had been heard. On the following morning there was still no news. As Kennedy walked moodily up Buchanan Street he saw a boy carrying the contents bill of an early edition of an "evening" newspaper. Kennedy regarded it with dismay as he read the words:—

.MISSING MANNEQUIN

RAILWAY SENSATION

He bought a copy and found a long "story" of the affair, ending with the statement that the Glasgow police had been called in to investigate the mystery. The statement was true, but although the Glasgow police made every inquiry possible, they were unable to discover the slightest information regarding Verity. Eventually. Kennedy decided to return by the night train to London, whither Madame Rentoul and the others had already gone and to endeavour to induce the London police to take up the matter.

On the following morning, Kennedy walked into the Strand, where once more he was astonished by the sight of a contents bill which showed him thai the London newspapers were developing much attention to the affair. The words, in their red type, glared out at him:

"MISSING MANNEQUIN DRAMA.

FURTHER DEVELOPMENT.

Kennedy bought a copy of the paper and opened it as he stood there in the street.

CHAPTER VIII

A Grim Discovery.

The development to which the newspaper referred were slight but extremely interesting. A small leather vanity bag, on which were embossed the initials V.L. had been found that morning lying on Waterloo Bridge.

Waterloo Bridge—that bridge of sighs and tragic, memories: that bridge beneath which is a special police ambulance for the reception of suicides! And yet, thought Kennedy, a girl of Verity's temperament would surely not commit suicide; still more unlikely was it that she had been thrown over the bridge without the crime being seen. Somehow Kennedy decided that the vanity bag was a red herring drawn across the trail of anyone endeavouring to trace Verity. 'He wondered if Paul Arnot had heard of the affair. Of course, if anyone was to benefit by the disappearance of Verity it would be Arnot himself: indeed, as he thought of it, he could see that suspicion might even fall on him, should it become widely known that he was a friend of Arnot's and chat he was on the train at the time of Verity's disappearance.

Kennedy decided to go round to Regent Street. He found the Frenchman nonplussed, but in no way sympathetic about the disappearance of his rival's ,2Teatest asset: in fact, he w-as at no pains to disguise his pleasure.

"Too good to last, friend Kennedy, too cood to last." h<> said, smiling and rubbing his hands together in true Continental fashion.

"Have you seen the latest news?" aj=ked Kennedy. whose susceptibilities were put on edge by Arnot's attitude. "Her vanity bag has been found on Waterloo Bridsre—at least, a vanity bag marked V.L. has been found there."

"Do you believe she has committed suicide?" asked'Arnot. "I do not think so. I feel she will live to triumph again, but next time, I hone with mc. You have not forgotten my offer of a thousand pounds?"

"I want to talk to you about that later," said Kennedy. "At the moment I am afraid I'm far more concerned in discovering what has happened to the poor girl. I suppose you appreciate that it will not be long before people , look round to find who i- ilie viie to | benefit mostly from ber disappearance." "You mean they suspect mc of having a hand in it?" " I'es, and perhaps mc too," replied Kennedy. ■> i'aul Arnot merely shrugged his shoulders as if to say that nothing of the kind worried him. Presently, asking Kennedy to keep him acquainted with anything which transpired, he trotted across his estab- ' lisiiinciu to a richly attired client who j had entered. ; Kennedy was not far wrong in bis assumption that Paul Arnot's name lie dragged into the matter, lor, ; whilst at lunch, lie overheard a comer- i satiuii between a man and two women [who Aeie sitting at an adjacent table, j Apparently the women were clients of' 1 Muuaiiic ltcntoul and bad seen \ erity I i there. j | "A perfectly delightful creature," one ioi them said to tiie man. "You would : have sinrdy gone off jour head about 1 I her, and to think that she has come to j I harm: It i.- too awful!" i "I suppose >!ic has been kidnapped by ■ June oi Madame Rentoul's rivals," sug- , gestcd the man. I "She has only got one." put in an- ' lot her of the womvii, "and that's Paul ' Arnot of Regent Street. L hear that 'lots of people have left his shop since 'Verity Lane went to Madame Rentoul." "Well, it's up to the police t i ihid it ] 'lie had any accomplices on the train. Of i | course, it's too much to expect our; I police to sliow such intelligence as {that." ) With this sneer the . convei>;u'on [ended. It left Kennedy with an un- ; ! pleasant feeling that somehow he might ■ cwntually be suspected of ha\ing a [hand in the disappearance of the girl | v liom lie did not v. is 1 in injure, but loved I truly--which Verity's disappearance had : ser\ed to show him as perhaps nothing i else might have done. : lie found it impossible to go back to ; his chambers to tackle even the small |amount of work which awaited him. and I later something drew him to Bond ! Street. He had a desire to walk its fashionable length and to view again the scene of Verity's triumphs. As he passed by on the opposite side of the I road he cast a side-glance at the window, half hoping that he might see Verity's face; but it was not so. All he saw was Eireen Horton. who, with another girl, stood looking vacantly through the window as he passed. He did not know, nor did he care, whether they had seen him. They had. "That is one of Pain Arnot's friends," said Rita Bailey, who, prior to her association with Madame Rentoul, had been engaged hy Arnot in his workroom. Kireen started. "Are you sure?" she demanded breathlessly. "t_uite," responded Rita. "He used to come in occasionally when I was there. I remember him because —well— I nearly fell in love with him when I first saw him. AYhy are you so surprised?" "I'm surprised." said Eireen deliberately, "because it just happens that he was on the train during our show." Rita raised her eyebrows. "You think, then, that he " "I think nothing," said Eireen. At that moment, Aubrey Blade entered the room. "Pretty outlook," he exclaimed. "Youth and beauty in the street and so on—what?" "Yes, there's one bit of youth and beauty just gone past in the form of Kennedy Betts." "That bounder!" cried Aubrey. "I'm glad I wasn't here —the sight of him makes mc feel ill; not just indisposed, dearie, but really ill." Aubrey had not told Eireen of the incident in the Glasgow hotel. "He seems to have been following Verity Lane," Aubrey continued. "1 told him in the hotel at Glasgow—l didn't tell you that, Eireen—l jolly well told him to keep his face away. You might not think it, but when I make my mind up to deal with a joker like him I don't do it half-heartedly. He won't forget it in a hurry." "Excellent," drawled Eireen languidly. "You ought to have lived in the days of chivalry—you would have looked nice in armour. By the way, Aubrey, Rita says that your Mr. Betts is a friend of the illustrious Paul Arnot." "The deuce he is!" exclaimed Aubrey. "Do you really mean that, Rita? Splendid! Just the kind of information I want to get hold of. Right you are. Mr. Kenned v-Unspeakable-Betts. Right!" During the day, several reporters had been to interview Madame Rentoul, who decided to leave town for a few days to escape any inquiries. Now, however, a newspaper man turned up in the form of James Bartlett, Aubrey's advertisement friend, the man who boomed Verity so successfully. 'The very man I wanted to see!" said Aubrey. "By the way, wouldn't this disappearance of Verity's have been a triumph if you had been able to wangle it as a stunt, and then bring her back again?" "Yes, makes one's mouth water to think of. it." replied Bartlett. "Any new-g of her?" "None yet." said Aubrey, "but the affair is developing. . You've -heard about the bag, of course, and now I've 1 discovered something else. There's a 1 gentleman by the name of Kennedy 1 Betts, a barrister cove, who was on the ' train when she disappeared, and I now • find that he is a friend of Paul Arnot. 1 If you ask mc anything, he is the man ' who has had a finger in the pie. Of I course, this is not for publication. It I would be a dangerous thing to print at ! present, but I think you can take it from i mc that he and Arnot are at the back f of it. Anyhow, do your best to let the - rumour spread that there has been some - dirty work going on and that it has »I been suggested in certain quarters that II some rival may have been responsible i for Verity's disappearance. You can t say that quite easily and everyone will f know whom it means —got mc! Good idea, what?"

"How do you mean, a good idea?" asked Bartlett. _ "Well," said Aubrey. "If Arnot is behind it, it would be a good idea to let the rumour leak out. Dish him up so to speak—what? In any case, you are still publicity agent for Madame Rentoul as regard* Verity Lane, and it

is up to you to keep the mystery going as hrightly as possible." "You don't seem particularly cut up about it," remarked Bartlett. "Oh. you don't understand mc." replied Aubrey. "I'm one of those who never show exactly what they feel; it doesn't do. you know, it doesn't do. As a matter of fact. I feel this very deeply. and I said to myself. 'Aubrey, it's up to you to find this girl—you're responsible for her coming to Bond Street, and you've jolly well got to find her.'" The result of this conversation -was that Bartlett conveyed Aubrey*.

suspicion to as wide a circle of his acquaintances as he thought prudent. | and that very soon the rumour spread that Verity had disappeared as the; I result of the machinations of a rival firm I loi Madame Rentoul. Meanwhile, Bartlett, who was in sole j possession of a number of photographs, j . which Madame Rentoul had had taken of j Verity, was placing these in as many newspapers as possible. Like ail other ■.•a*e> in which a pretty girl is concerned.! li:e '•Missing .Mannequin Case" became ■ widely talked of. and, in view of Bart ! , lett'> subtle propaganda, no newspaper , dared let the subject drop, lest some-f . ihius frcr-h might occur at any moment, j 1 That evening something sensational : did oceiir, and for the third time Ken- i ' nedy Betts found himself buying a news- j ' paper at the bidding of its glaring con-1 tents bill, which promised "More De-j j \elopments." He did not open the j : paper in the street, but took it with him to the seclusion of his own eham >ers. j Twice ho read the astonishing line?, and ] • then he laid down the piper with an air • !of resignation. The news which he : read was to the effect that: — j j "In circumstances pointing to foul j : play, the body of a young and well- j dressed girl was this afternoon recovered ' from the Thames, near London Bridge, j j where it had been seen floating in the 1 I wake of a steamer. The opinion is that j I the body had not been Ion:, in the water., i and it was-apparently that of a pretty j | woman. It is said that the body carries , : a knive-wound over the heart. The' ■underclothing, which is of fine quality. : I hears the initial- V.L." | (in he enntinnetl Snnirdav N'evt.i