THE VENGEANCE OF HOP FI.

Auckland Star, 9 July 1928, Page 16

THE VENGEANCE OF HOP FI.

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS.

NEW READERS BEGIN HERE. JOHN RELPH, an unemployed ex-officer, meets HENRI ZWEITT, a Swiss, whose life he saved during a post-war riot in Cologne. Zweitt takes Relph to London, promising to find him employment. Next morning, soon after Zweitt's departure, a mysterious Chinaman appears at his rooms. He declines to leave a message with Relph, who is later engaged by the firm for which Zweitt works. The same evening Relph has an appointment with Zweitt at the shop of one SALVATORI. in Angel Alley, near Piccadilly, but the Swiss fails to put in an appearance. Salvatori is obviously in terror of something, and begins telling Relph a strange story when he is interrupted. Relph promises to return later, and as he is doing so observes a beautiful woman stealthily coming from the direction of the shop. He finds Salvatori stabbed, lying on the floor and gasping "Zweitt did not come—The end of the story—Sour milk." CHAPTER 111. I turned into Wardour Street. Drawn up against the kerb on the corner was a big car. As I turned the corner a woman descended from the car and made her way toward the cul de sac. She was a woman of middle height, and in the dim light of the solitary street lamp I coukl discern her evening cloak of bronze coloured velvet, and caught a glimpse of beautifully dressed black hair. She entered the shop. I saw Salvatori hold the door and bow his ' *ad respectfully. I walked toward the park, my brain busy with a dozen questions on this strange sequence of events. I was keen tot see Zweitt, to get some explanation from him. I walked about and at a quarter to ten retraced my steps to Salvatori's shop. There was no one in the shop and after a minute I rapped on the counter. Still nobody appeared. I rapped on the door at the far end of the shop. Nothing happened. With an exclamation of annoyance I pushed open the door. As I crossed the threshold a sight met my eyes which made me draw back in horror.

With hie head in the fireplace and the handle of an ordinary table knife sticking in his breast, lay Salvatori. His hands were clenched and his eyes, wide open, were fearful. A thin stream of blood ran from the wound and trickled into the fireplace. I remembered Conway. His place was but a few minutes away. I was turning to go when I saw Salvatori's eyelids move. Then his right hand moved and with a terrific effort he half turned in my direction. As he moved the handle of the table knife moved with him. It seemed horribly grotesque. I noticed a half-empty bottle of brandy on the mantelpiece. Seizing it I knelt by Salvatori's side and poured a few drops on hie tongue. He moved spasmodically. Then, his hand, finding mine, pressed my fingers. He was struggling to speak. I put my mouth to his ear.

"Who did thw, Salvatori?" I asked

His lips moved feebly. I raised hU head. In the dim light of the dirty room I saw the perspiration on his forehead and the fear iff his eyes. His voice sounded cracked and hareh in the silent room.

"Zweitt—did —not—come," he gasped

"I tell you.—" He moistened his lips and with a terrible effort sat upright.

"De end of de story," he gasped. "I tell you—Sour Milk—De Sour Milk!" He fell back into the fireplace—dead!

"Well, Mr. Relph, it's a strange 'business." The detective inspector turned the knife between his fingers. We were seated in Conway's study, and I had just finished telling my story to Inspector Jaffray, of Scotland Yard, who had been hurriedly summoned to the scene of the murder. "Of course, there's no obvious motive," the inspector went on. It's pretty "evident that Salvatori was stabbed some time between ten minutes past nine and a quarter to ten. As far as I can see there is absolutely no clue. We've got to find Zweitt. That seems to me to be the most important thing. Evidently there was some sort of business going on between him and Salvatori. Then there's that Chinaman who was so keen to see Zweitt." "It's quite on the'cards that Zweitt may turn up at the office to-morrow," I hazarded. "He may, but I don't think he will," said the inspector. "I think Zweitt will keep out of the way. I'm having all the ports watched, and we'll take good care that he doesn't get out of the country, but London is a big place, and there are lots of holes where a man can hide in spite of all the police combing in the world." Conway lit his pipe. "You suspect Zweitt, Inspector?" he asked.

"Why not?" said the inspector. "He has an appointment with Salvatori and doesn't turn up till late. He sees Mr. Relph talking to Salvatori and waits till he goes. Then he enters the shop. They quarrel, and Zwettt stabs Salvatori."

A sudden thought leapt to my mind. Excited by the happenings of the evening, I had forgotten the mysterious woman in the car who had entered the shop just after I left it. Had she murdered Salvatori? For a moment I hesitated; then some inexplicable instinct told me to hold my tongue. "That's all very well, Inspector," said Conwajf, "but if Zweitt intended to kill Salvatori he would never have written that note to Relph asking him to meet him at the shop—unless, of course, the crime was unpremeditated."

"Well, Doctor, croesn't everything point that way 1" asked the detective. "Mr. Relph tells us that the knife was stuck in the ham on the counter outside. I should say that the quarrel took place in the shop. Salvatori, frightened, backed towards the door of the inner room, and his assailant followed him, picking np the knife en route. Surely, if the crime had been premeditated. he would have brought a weapon with him. Besides, Mr. Relph says that Zweitt is a short, square man. He'd be fairly strong, I expect, and that knife isn't too sharp. A fairly strong man st a bed Salvatori." For some reason or -other I felt relieved. Then the mysterious woman had not killed Salvatori. I remembered that she was short and slight. I looked at the knife which Jaffray still held in his fingers. "She would never have had the strength to drive that blunt weapon into Salvatori. The detective rose from his chair. "I'll be off," he said. "You'll be at your office to-morrow, Mr. Relph? I I want to have a talk with your Mr. I Brandon about Zweitt. He may be able to give us some information."

By PETER CHEYNEY.

I told Jaffray that I should be at the office at nine-thirty next morning. He wrapped up tjie knife in an old handkerchief, and with a good-night to us both left the flat.

"It's a funny business," said Conway, when Jaffray had gone. "I wish you had heard the end of Salvatori's story. I wonder why he didn't finish it? Perhaps he was expecting someone?"

"Very likely," I answered. "The whole thing is a mystery." I put on my hat and coat, said good-night to Conway, and made my way to Poland Street.

I was feeling upset about the whole business. I don't mind excitement, but I don't like too much of it. I realised, too, that I had done wrong in not telling Jaffray about the woman. Probably she could supply vital information.

Mrs. Game met me on the doorstep. She was, in turn, excited and depressed at the news.

"Oh, Mr. Relph," she said. "I knew it! I knew murder or something shockin' 'ad been done w'en the perlice come 'ere to-night. They asked me questions till my 'ead was near fit to burst. Mr. Zweitt disappeared, too, they say! Do you think 'e'll come back, Mr. Relph T Not that I'm worrying about the rent. It's paid for a fortnight ahead, but there's all 'is clothes an' things. An' the perlice "

"Did the police search his room, Mrs Game?" I asked.

"They're 'ere now," she said, indignantly. "At least they've left one perliceman 'ere to see that nobody disturbs 'is room. One of the 'eds is comin' to examine everythink to-morrow. I never 'card of such goin's on in my life, 1 didn't." She clattered off, perturbed but not exactly displeased with the excitement.

I went upstairs. As I passed Zweitt's room on the first floor I looked in through the open door. One of the plainclothes men who had arrived at Salvatori's shop with Jaffray was seated at the table smoking a pipe and reading a newspaper.

"I don't envy you your job," I said with a grin.

He laughed. "Oh, I'm pretty used to it, sir. Though why the chief should want somebody on guard here all night, I don't know. I suppose he's got something at the back of his head, though."

"Perhaps he expects Zweitt to tome back," I said.

The detective grinned. "I don't think we shall see much of Mr. Zweitt," he said. "At least not unless we lay hands on him ourselves. I should rather like to see him come back to-night." He touched his pocket and I heard the clink of handcuffs. "My orders are to arrest him on suspicion right away; but he won't come back, Mr. Relph."

I stayed chatting with the man for a few minutes and then, bidding him goodnight, went up to my room. Sitting on the bed I thought over the strange events which had taken place since yesterday afternoon, when I had met Zweitt on Frimley Hill. I was not feeling at all easy in my mind. At the back of my brain a conviction was growing that I had not played the game by Jaffray in withholding the information about the woman in the evening cloak. For the life of me I did not know why I had not told him, except that for a moment, as I had seen her, standing beneath the dim light over the entrance of Salvatori's shop, there had seemed something pathetic in her face, something that was almost an appeal. In some remote manner she seemed to remind me of someone I had met.

What had become of Zweitt T 1 undressed slowly, wondering. His attitude had certainly been strange. Zweitt had been badly frightened by something or somebody. His disjointed remarks of the night before took on a new significance. Why had he not kept the appointment at Salvatori's shop?

I stuck my hands in my trouser pockets and moved over to the wndow, stopping suddenly as my right hand closed over something in my pocket— something I had forgotten in the excitement of the evening—the bright bit of metal I had picked up from the floor beside Salvatori. I pulled it out of my pocket and stood»staring at it in amazement. It was an identification disc on a thin silver chain, such as was worn round the wrist, during the war, by officers, and it bore the name of my friend, Harry Varney! For a moment I thought that my eyes had deceived me. I took it under the gas bracket and inspected it closely. There was no doubt about it. In spite of the wear and scratches which defaced the silver disc, the lettering was quite plain—"2nd Lieut. H. J. Varney, 4th Loamshire Fusiliers, C. of E." I stood wondering. Harry Varney and I had been the greatest friends ever since we joined the regiment on the same day early in '15 until the day in 1916 when he had been reported "missing, believed killed." What was the disc doing in Salvatori's shop? Once again the mysterious woman came into my mind. I felt terribly uneasy.

I sat down once again and thought. There was only one thing to be done. To-morrow I must make a clean breast of the whole business and tell Jaffray everything I knew. Probably I had been guilty of withholding a most important clue. I put the identification bracelet down on the dressing table and walked over to the window and looked, down Marlborough Street. The street looked stolid and peaceful, and the lamps twinkled brightly. I felt not in the least inclined to go to bed. I was over-excited, and the thought of a walk in the quiet outside appealed to me. I put on my

coat and waistcoat, and slipping quietly down the stairs past Zweitt's room on the first floor, in which a light was still

burning, I opened the front door and, closing it quietly behind me, walked off towards Regent Street.