THE LADY AT THE DOOR

Auckland Star, Volume LIX, Issue 177, 28 July 1928, Page 14 (Supplement)

THE LADY AT THE DOOR

CHAPTER XV. Reeder to the Rescue. Mr. Reeder was not an emotional man. For the first time in lus life Inspector Simpson learnt that behind the calm and imperturbable demanour was an immense capacity for violent language. He fired a question at the officer and Simpson nodded. "Yes. the car returned. The driver said that -he had orders to go back to London. I thought you had changed your plans. You're staying with this bullion robbery, Reeder?" Mr. Reeder glared across tiie desk, and, despite his hardihood, Inspector Simpson winced. "Staying with hell!" hissed Reeder. Simpson was seeing the real and unsuspected J. G. Reeder and was staggered. "I'm going back to interview that monkey-faced criminologist, and I'm going to introduce him to forms of persuasion which have been forgotten since the inquisition!" Before Simpson could reply, Mr. Reeder was out of the door and flying down the stairs. It was the hour after lunch, and Daver was sitting at his desk twiddling his thumbs when the door was pushed open unceremoniously and Mr. Reeder came in. He did not recognise the detective, for a mail who in a moment of savage humour slices off his side-whiskers, brings about an amazing change fn his appearance. And with ! the vanishing, transformation in Mr. Reeders demeanour. Gone were his useless pince-nez which had fascinated a generation of law-breakers; gone the gentle, apologetic voice, the shyly diffident manner. '"I want you, Paver!" "Mr. Reeder!" gasped the yellowfaced man and turned a shade paler. Reeder slammed the door to behind him, pulled up a chair with a crash, and sat down opposite the hotel proprietor. "Where is Miss Bulman":" "Miss Belman Astonishment was expressed in every feature. '"Good gracious, Mr.'Reeder. surely you know ? She went to get your daetyscope—is that the word? I intended asking you to be good enough to let me see this " "Where—is—Miss—Bellman ? Spill it, Daver.' and save yourself a lot of unhappiness.'' "I swear to you. li'.v dear Mr. Reeder Iteedcr leaned across the table and rang the bell. "Do—do you want anything'.'" stammered the manager. '"I want to speak.to Mrs. Flack —you call her Mrs. Burton, but Mrs. Flack is good enough lor me." J>aver's face vas ghastly now. Ho had become suddenly wizened and old. "I'm one of the few people who happen to know that John Flack is married," said Reeder; "one of the few who knows he has a daughter! The question is, does John Flack know all that I know!" He glowered down at the shrinking ma n. '"Does he know that after he was sent to Broadmoor his sneaking worm of a | secretary, his toady and parasite and slave, decided to carry on in the Flack tradition, and used his influence and his knowledge to compel the unfortunate daughter of mad John Flack to marry him?" A frenzied, almost incoherent voice wailed: "For God'? sake .... don't talk so loud!" But Mr. Reeder vent on. "Before Flack went to prison he put into the care of his daughter his famous encyclopaedia of crime. She was the only person he trusted; his wife was a weak slave whom he had always despised. Mr. Daser, the secretary, got possession of those books a year after Flack was put in gaol. He organised his own little gang at Flack's old headquarters, which were nohiinallv bought bv you. Ever since you knew John Flack was planning an escape—an escape in which you had to assist him —you've been living in terror that he would discover how you had doublecrossed him. Tell me I'm a liar and I'll beat your miserable little head off! Where is Margsret Belman?" j "I don't know," said the raaij sullenly. ! "Flack had a car waiting for her; that's all I know." Something in his tone, something in the shifty slant of his eyes infuriated Reeder. He stretched out a long arm, gripped the man by the dollar and jerked him savagely across the desk. As a feat of physical strength it was remarkable; as a piece of propaganda of the frightfulness that was to follow, it had a strange effect upon Daver. He lay limp for a second, and then, with a quick jerk of his collar, he wrenched himself from R»cder's grip and fled from the room, slamming the door behind him. By the time Reeder had kicked an overturned chair from his path and opened the door, Daver had disappeared. When Reeder reached the hall it was empty. He met none of the servants (he learnt later that the majority had been discharged that morning, paid a month's wages and sent to town by the first train). He ran out of the main entrance on to the lawn, but the man he sought was not in sight. The other side of the house drew blank. One of the detectives on duty in the grounds, attracted by Mr. Reeder's hasty exit, came running into the vestibule as he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Xobodv came out, sir," he said, when Reeder explained the object of his search. "How many men are there in the grounds?" asked Reeder shortly. "Four? Bring them into the house. Lock every door and bring back a crowbar with you. lam going to do a little investigation that may cost me a lot of money. No sign of Brill?" "No, sir," said the detcetive, shaking his head sadly. "Poor old Brill! I'm afraid they've dome him. The young lady got to town all right, sir?" Mr. Reeder scowled at him. "The young lady—what do you know about her?" he asked sharply.

"I saw her to the car," said Detective Gray. •

Reeder gripped him by tl«e coat and led him into the vestibule.

"Now tell me, and tell me quickly, what sort of a car was it?"

"I don't know, Mr. Reeder," said the man in surprise. "An ordinary kind of car, except that the windows were shuttered, but I thought that was your idea." "What sort of a body was it?"

The man described the car as accurately as possible; he had'only made a superficial inspection. He thought, however, it was an all-weather body. The

BY — EDGAR WALLACE —

news was no more than Feeder had exected; neither added to nor diminished his anxietv.

When Gray had gone back to his three companions and the door was locked, Mr. Reeder, from the landing above, called them to the first lloor. A very thorough search had already been made by the police that morning; but, so far, Daver's room had escaped anything but superficial attention. It was situated at the far end of the corridor and was locked when the search party arrived, by the curious position of a brown It took less than two minutes to force an entrance. Mr. Daver's suite consisted of a sittintr-room. a bedroom and a handsomely fitted bathroom. There was a number of books in the former, a small empire table on which were, neatly arranged, a pile of accounts, but there was nothing in the wav of documents to reveal his relationship with the Flack gang.

The bedroom was beautifully furnished. Here again, from Reeder's point of view, the search was unsatisfactory.

The .-uite formed one of the angles of the old Keep, and Reeder was leaving the room when his eyes, roving back from a last look round, were arrested leather divan in one corner of the room. He went back and tried to pull it away trutn tiie wall, but apparently it was a fixture. He kicked at the draped side and it gave forth a hollow wooden sound. "What has he got in that divan?" he asked. After considerable search Gray found a hidden bolt, and throwing this back the top of the divan came up like the lid of" a box. It was empty. "The rum thing about this house, sir," said Gray as they went downstairs together. "is that one always seems on the point of making on important discovery and it always turns out to be a dud." Reeder did not reply; lie was too preoccupied with his growing distress. Alter a while he spoke. "There are many qit.-er things about this house " he began. And then there came a sound which fro/e the marrow" of his bones. It was a shrill shriek; the scream of a human soul in agony. "llelp! Help, Reeder'" It came from the direction of the room he had left, and he recognised Daver's voice. "Oh, God The sound of a door slamming. Reeder took the stairs three at a time, the detectives following him. Daver's door he had left ajar.* but in the short time he had lieen downstairs it had been ?hut and bolted. "The crowbar, quick!" Gray had left it below, and Hying down, returned in a few seconds. No sound came from the room. Pushing the claw of the crowbar between architrave and door at the point where he had seen the bolt, Reeder levered it back and the door flew open with a crash. One step into the apartment and then he stood stock still, glaring at the lied, unable to believe his eyes. On the silken counterpane, sprawled iif an indescribable attitude, his round, sightless eyes staring at the ceiling, was Daver. Mr. Reeder knew that he was dead before he saw the terrible wound or the brown-hilted knife that stuck out from his side. Reeder listened at the Tieart —felt the pulse of the warm wrist, but it was a waste of time, as he knew. He made a quick search of the clothing. T here was an inside pocket in the waistcoat, and here he found a thick pad of banknotes. "All thousands." said "Mr. Reeder, and ninety-five of them. What's in that packet?" It was a little cardboard folder, and contained a steamship ticket from Southampton to New \ork, made out in the name of "Sturgeon," and in the coat pocket Feeder found a passport which was stamped by the American Frabassv and bore the same name. "He was ready to run—but he delayed it too long," he said. "Poor devil!" "How did he get here, sir?" asked Gray. "They couldn't' have carried him " "He was alive when we heard him," said Reeder curtly. He was being killed when we heard him.sliriek. There is a way into this room we haven't discovered yet- What's that?" It was a sound of a muffled thud, as if a heavy door had .been closed. It seemed to come from somewhere in the room- Reeder took the crowbar from the detective's hand and attacked the panel beMfnd the settee. Beneath was solid wall. He ripped down another strip, with no more enlightening result. Aga,in he opened the divan. Its bottom was made of a thin layer of oak. This, too, was ripped off; beneath this again was the stone floor. Strip it," said Feeder, and when this was done, he stepped inside the divan and see-sawed gingerly from one end to the other. "There's nothing here," he said. "Go downstairs and 'phone Mr. Simp&on. Tell him what has happened."

VV'lien the man had gone he resumed his examination of the Updy. Daver had carried, attached to one of the buttons of his trousers, a long gold chain. This was gone; he found it broken off close to the link and the button itself hanging by a thread. It was whilst he was making his examination that his hand touched a bulky package in the dead man's hip pocket. It was a worn leather case, filled with scraps of memoranda, mostly undecipherable. They were written in a formless hand generally with pencil and the writing was large and irregular, whilst the paper used for these messages was of every variety. One was a scrawled chemical formula: another was a brief note which ran; "House opposite Reeder to let; engage or get key; communicate usual place."

Some of these notes were understandable. some beyond Mr. Reeder's comprehension. But he came at last to a scrap which swept the coleur from his cheeks. It was written in the same hand on the selvedge of a newspaper and "was crumpled into a ball.

"Belman fell over cliff six miles west Larme. Send men to get body before police discover." Mr. J. G. Reeder read and the room spun round.

CHAPTER XVI. In the Cave. When Margaret Belman recovered consciousness she was in the open air, lying in a little recess, effectively hidden from the mouth of the cave- A man in a torn shirt and ragged trousers was standing by her side, looking down at her. As she opened her eyes she saw him put his linger to his mouth, as though to signal silence. His hair was unkempt, streaks of dried blood zigzagged his face, and the hair above, saw, was matted. Yet there was a certain kindliness in his disfigured face which reassured her as he knelt down and, making a funnel of his hands, whispered : "Be quiet! I'm sorry to have frightened you, but I was scaled you'd shout if you saw me. I suppose I look pretty awful." His grin was very reassuring. . "Who are you:" she answered in the same tone. "My name's Brill, C.I.D" "How did you get here?" she asked. "I'd like to be able to tell you," he answered grimly. "You're. Zviiss Belman, aren't you?" She nodded. He lifted his head, listening, and flattening himself against the rock, craned out slowly and peeped round the edge of his hiding place. He did not move for about five minutes, and by this time she had risen to her feet. Her knees were, dreadfully shaky; she felt physically sick, and once again her mouth was dry and parched. Apparently satisfied, he crept back to her side. 1 was left or; duty in Feeder's room. I thought i braid him calling from the window you ran t distinguish voices when they whimper—and asking me to come out quick as-he wanted me. I'd hardly dropped to the ground before— gosh! He touched his head gingerlv -and winced. "That's all I remember till t woke up and found myself drowning. I ve been in the cave all the mornin^— naturally" "Why naturally?" she whispered. ' Because the beach is covered with water at high tide, and the cave's the only place. It is a little too densely populated for me just now." She stared at him in amazement. "Populated? What do you mean?"' "Whisper!" he warned her, for she had raised her voice. Again he listened. "I'd like to know how they got u >wn — Daver and that old devil!" She felt herself going white. "You mean—Flack?"

He nodded. "Flack's only been here about an hour, and how he got down God knows. I suppose our fellows are patrolling the house?" "The police ?" she asked in astonishment. "Flack's headqtiarters—didn't you know Reeder—l mean Mr. Feeder—told you everything?" He was rather a talkative young man, more than a little exuberant at finding himself alive, and with-good reason. "I've been dodging in and out' of the cave all the morning. They've got a sentry on duty up there" —he nodded towards Siltbury- "It's marvellous— this organisation. They held up a gold convoy this morning, and got away with it —I heard t lie old man telliug his daughter. The funny thing is that, though he wasn't there to superintend the steal, his plan worked out like clockwork. It's a curious thing, any crook will work for okl Flack. He's employed the cleverest people in the business, and Ravini is the only man that ever sold him" "Do you know what has happened to Mr. Ravini?" she asked, and he shook his head. "He's dead, I expect. There are a lot of things in the cave that I haven't seen, and some that I have. They've got a petrol boat inside as big as a church! The boat I mean—hush!" Again he shrank against the cliff. Voices were coming nearer and nearer. Perhaps it was the peculiar acoustics of the cave which gave him the iLusion that the speakers were standing almost at their elbow. Brill recognised the thin, harsh voice of the old man. and grinned again, but it was not a pleasant smile to see. "there s something wrong, something damnably wrong. \\hat is it, Olga?" "Nothing, father-'' Margaret recognised the voice of Olga Crewe. c \ou have been very good and very patient, my love, and i would not have planned to come out but I wanted to see you settled in life. I am very ambitious for you, Olga." A pause, and then: "Yes, father." Olga Crewe's voice was a little dispirited, and apparently the old man did not notice this. "lou are to have the finest husband in the land, my dear. You shall have a house that any princess would envv. It shall be of white marble with golden cupolas—you shall be the richest woman in the land. Olga. I have planned this for you. Night after night as I lay in

bed in that dreadful place I said to myself: 'I must go out and settle Olga's future!' That is why I came out— only for that reason. All my life I have worked for you."' "Mother says " be?an the girl. "Pah!" Old John Flack almost spat the word. "An unimaginative commoner with the soul of a housekeeper! She lias looked after you well? Good! All the better for her. I would never have forgiven her if she had neglected you. And Daver. He has been respectful? He has given you all the money you wanted?" "Yes, father." Margaret thought she detected a catch in the girl's voice. "Daver is a good servant. I will make his fortune. The scum of the gutter — but faithful. I told him to be your watch-dog. lam pleased with him. Be patient a little longer. lam going to see all my dreams come true." The voice of the madman was tender, so transfigured by love and pride that it seemed to be a different man who was speaking. Then his voice changed again. "The Colonel will be back to-night. He is a trustworthy man; Gregory also. They shall be paid like ambassadors. You must bear with me a little while, Olga- All those unpleasant matters will be cleared up. Reeder we shall dispose of. To-morrow at high-tide we leave—" The sound of the voices receded, until they became an indistinguishable murmur. Brill looked round at the girl and smiled again. "Can you beat him?" he asked admirably. "Crazy as a barn coot! But he has the cleverest brain in London; even Reeder says that. God! I'd give ten years' salary and all my chance of promotion for a gun!" "What shall we doS" she asked after a long silence. "Stay here till the tide turns, then we'll have to take our chance in the cave. We'd be smashed to pieces if we waited on the beach!" "There's no way up the cliff ?" He shook his head. "There's a way out through the cave if we can only iind it," lie said. "One way? A dozen! I tell you that this cliff is like a honeycomb. One of these days it will collapse like froth on a glass of beer- I heard Daver say so, and the mad fellow agreed. Mad? I wish I had his brain! He's going to dispose of Reeder. is he? The cemeteries are full of people who've tried to dispose of Reeder!" ITo be continued Saturday next.)