The House of Silence

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 91, 18 April 1929, Page 23

The House of Silence

By J. R. WILMOT Author of Zora,«the Invisible/' etc.)

(II.MMKI; XXV. Gideon Barnish Speaks. Tlu-rc are limes when even the evidence of our e\e- appears somewhat unreasonable. We feel that we are not observing reality; that it is little more than 11. fragment of our subconsciousness a net that one Mink of the eyelids will see the pietine era-ed completely. That was how Philip Strode felt when l,e stood in the doorway of that small hack room regarding (iideon Barnish sitImg on the edge or a low bed. It seemed, incredible that the man who had liecfi responsible for his abduction should he in 'his house also—waiting deliverance. behind a locked door. Realisation of the fact brought Philip M've rely to earth. He immediately became su.-picious. Was this part'of a trap? he a-ked himself. It was possible that it was.

And in that, moment, too. hate flashed up into flic young man's mind—hate of (lie man who sat there staring at him hcwilderinglv. 'I his "was the man who liad deliberately sent Jan to France in order thai, she might be kept out of the way while whatever nefarious scheme was afoot might he carried to fruition. This was the man who had placed her life in danger. Philip would show ?iim no mercy.

Slowly, Philip advanced into the room almost menacingly.

"I'm <1— d glad to meet you, Barnish," Philip began. "I hadn't counted upon renewing our acquaintance quite so soon. Rut perhaps it's all the better for you for that, and if you don't answer me swiftly I'll wring the truth out of you with my hands. First of all, Barnish, I want to know the whereabouts of Jan Gregory? There's no need to look so innocent," as he noticed a quick elevation of the man's eyebrows. "You remember. don't you, how we were going for a nice little jaunt in a motor car to Wimercux yesterday. You got the better of me that time—you and that little worm Phipps—hut I've grown heaps wiser since then, so I'll trouble ;.ou for ttill directions."

Gideon Barnish was puzzled. His face lietrnved him. He had listened to Philip with quiet toleration and without protest.

"Young man," he began, after a pause. "I should be extremely obliged if you'd explain exactly what you are talking about. It is perfectly true that I am Gideon Barnish but as for—was it a lady you mentioned?—really you have me at a dieadvantage. I have never, to my knowledge heard of anyone of that name. And might I ask also who you are. We have never been introduced."

Philip felt ae if someone had struck him a blow between the eyes. He was mentally stunned. This man's words had a deep sincerity there could be no mistaking. But Philip was now more cautious than ever. He had no intention of being bluffed out of hie game by Gideon Barnish. The man was probably playing for time. He was expecting someone any minute now —someone who would liberate him from—Philip. "It's not a bit of use your trying to bluff me with that innocent stuff," Philip told him, impatiently. "If you think you can gull me a second time, that's your mistake. Come on, now, the game's tip. Spill the beans, as the saying goes, I'm in no mood for word fencing."

Gideon Barnish made an effort to rise from the edge of his bed. ".Yo you don't," commanded Philip. ' Stay where vou are. And no monkey tricks."

Gideon Barnish allowed himself to relax, but there was an angry glint in his eyes. "Young man," he said', coldly. "As I've said before I don't know who you are, but my intelligence prompts me to assume that you have no connection with the scoundrels who brought me here and who have kept me a prisoner all these weeks. That being so let me tell you this. T am Gideon B&rnish; the man whom the world of science knows as Gideon Barnish. If—and it is apparent, that you have—if you have met someone else masquerading under my title then T can forgive van for your insolence. But when you begin to rave about some girl of whose existence I am blissfully unaware, I must protest and ask you to tell me what you are talking about."

Tlipre was no the sincerity in Ihp quiet, cultured voice, and as Phili» gazed steadily at the man before him he became conscious for the first time that there was a subtle difference between the Oideon Barnieh he now saw and the Gideon Barnish he had met yesterday outside the Hotel Concours. This man looked tired —almost ill; his voice iacked the fire of enthusiasm that had been apparent in the other's. What was the meaning of it? A thought came to him. It was an illuminating thought. Was it possible that there were two of Cidcon Barnish just as there were two "f Phipps? Was this another link in the chain of amazing alibis? When Philip next spoke, his tone was le«« harsh. Tt was also more polite. '"1 am sorry if I have made a mistake, hp owned, "but the girl X fim anxious <n find is tin: one you engaged on January Ist to act as your confidential secretary at your house, No 17, Courtney How. London. You sent her to France to interview a M. Lecoq just outside Boulogne. She has disappeared, and I nrn in France to try to find iter because —well, because I am in love with her. Yesterday at the Hotel Concours you look me in a motor car to see her. You (old me she had been found. There was al-o will? ns Mr. Phipps that benevolent old gentleman who occupies the adjoininhouse. On the way you drugged me, and I recovered consciousness a few hours apo in tlu- room just above thi* one. f managed to escape-after a niggle—[ hear someone knocking. J enter thi- room and find you here, -npno.-e there is some expiration somewhere. and that is what I »vant and what. 1 mean to have." . The man on the edge of the :>ed sat silent, with closed eyes, and il was Obvious to Philip that his mind was passing through the gulf of torture. Then he looked up, pleading and supplication in hie eyes. ltT "Young man." he said, eagerly, I went you to tell me more of this. ien Trie everything!" . . , •, So Philip told him—told Imn how it all began with the murder of Jules Merridew in his house in Courtney • T.,1,1 him of the Oideon Barmsn he kti-w: of Jan and Constable Peter M ' 111.' r - At the mention of the Tia,l "J Of .1 ill"- Merrirlew he had noted the oM re:,,,-- i'\ e> clo-e again; -'iW hi, Hi'" hand- clench.

"And what do you make of that. Mr Barnish;'' asked Philip in conclusion "What doer, it aIL mean?"

For answer (iideon Barnish began to sob just like a child.

My book." lie uttered, brokenlv. "Mv

precious book!" In that moment 1.01110 email degree of enlightenment dawned for Philip. He realised that the first stage fit" the plot had been the abduction of the original Gideon Barnish ami the substitution of a. clever impersonator who had taken tip thus old man's life from the moment he was due hack to London from abroad. That was the starting point. But where did it lead him.

"I can eee it all now, quite clearly," announced Barnish. now more composed. "I have been the victim of some terrible plot. Someone had heard that I was compiling an important book upon collections of famous jewels that are scattered not only in Britain, but also in the possession of private owners on the Continent. I was returning to London from Paris. Mv trnin left in half an hour. A man in the lounge, whom I had never seen before, introduced himself. He was a little man with white hair and a slight stoop." "That would be Phipps," interposed Philip, quickly.

"He seemed to know all about me and the work upon which I was engaged, and he mentioned that a friend of his — Lecoq I think the name was—had a valuable tiara which had originated far back in the centuries. Naturally I was interested. You see—did you say your name was Strode? —I was anxious that my book, which was for private circulation among connoisseurs of jewels only, should be as comprehensive as possible, and though I had arranged to return by the afternoon train, I yielded to the man's persuasions. He offered to wire to this friend of his to bring the tiara. But as I was anxious to leave France as quickly as possible I suggested that we go to Boulogne and see the gentleman personally. He agreed and we left by train. A motor car was waiting for us and we drove to Lecoq's house. What treasures were in that house, Mr. Strode —treasures of unbelievable beauty. I examined the tiara—and an exquisite thing it was, and then 1 yielded to something. I accepted a glass of burgundy. After that . . Gideon Barnish held out his hand with a gesture of unutterable helplessness. "I awoke to find myself in a house among the sand dunes. There I remained for a week and then I was taken away and brought here. What can we do, Mr. Strode? What can we do to frustrate them?"

"Well, I suppose we're free citizens once again,'.' smiled Philip. "But begging your pardon, sir, I don't think you're quite fit for a journey just yet. As for me—l told you before that I've got to get Jan away from that house— for it must be the same house where you were first taken. Good Lord! That's it! They removed you to make room for her. Can you tell me where the house is, sir?"

.... xva>! 1101 more than a mile from H imercux on the Calais Road/ 1 answered the old man. "'I noted that while 1 was being driven back from there." n "' fhen I'm off to find it!" cried iinhp. exultantly.

•lust as you are. voung man?" queried Harms]).

Philip glanced down at his convict dress and realised that such a course was impossible.

l>o you think you would mind Icndiii" mt> >'"«>• Hollies?" asked Philip ca-rerlv its the thought occurred to him." 'i» yon 11 do tliat I'll cut along to the nearest policy station and explain matters, and the\ 11 probably send someone round for VOU.

<'ifloon Barnish nodded. "It von think it will heh). v he .aid reigned! v.

I I " l>e continued daily.)