Beads of Silence

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 291, 9 December 1929, Page 18

Beads of Silence

jfew By L. BAMBURG. g®&jo j

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS.

SUPEKINTENDENT MACBRIDE, of Scotland Yard, with eight unsolved murders already on his hands, is called on to unravel the strange disappearance of SIK KICHARD WESTON, a well-known collector of Indian charms and curios and the owner oJ' a string of amulets, known as "The Flowers of Sleep." He calls in the help of -SEPTIMUS MAKCH, a private detective, who discovers that, in the mouths of two of the murdered men one of the "Flowers of Sleep" have been found. While on the way to Croydale Hall, Sir Richard's home, with Macßride, March overhears a conversation between a man and woman, and picks up a hypodermic syringe from tne spot where they had met. CHAPTER 111. When Macßride and March reached Croydale Hall, Evelyn Weston led the way into a small drawing room and motioned the two men to seats. " Now," said the superintendent, " suppose you tell us the exact facts as you know them.. When was the last time that you saw your father ? " "At lunch time," was the reply. We , all lunched together as usual." " All ? " put in March,. quietly. " Just how many does that imply, Miss Weston ? " "Father," replied Miss Weston, with a little half sob, "Anthony, myself, and Budha Das : ." She gave a tiny little shiver at mention of this name, the action not being lost on the keen eyes of her listeners. "Who is this gentleman?" asked March, his face growing still more alert. " Father's Indian man," was the reply "He lias been with him, I think, ever since he first went out there, and is absolutely devoted to him—father always trusted him to the; utmost, and said that he owed his life to Budha. He always dined with us, and always tasted the food first " ''What's that?" exclaimed Macßride. " Tasted " "A custom of the ancient East," flung in March. " But I have never heard of it being done in modern life. Have you any" idea why this was done, Miss Weston ? " " Yes, father was horribly afraid of poison. Ever since he had brought that famous chain of stones " " The Amulets of Death," put in March softly. " So he realised his danger, did he? " " Ye?, that is why he kept such guard over it. He told both Anthony and me when he brought it back that he knew he was running a risk by keeping it here instead of in a museum, but he loved to look at it. He had a case specially built, glass with steel wire over it; you shall see it later," she added. " And how it could have been spirited away from that locked case I don't know." ■ "Are you sure that it is stolen, Miss Weston ? " asked Macßride. "No, I am not," was the surprising answer, "and that is one of the things that cannot be known until you find my father, for he may have taken it with him. Indeed I can think of no other solution. The case is locked as usual, nothing has been touched in the library, and Budha Das swears that it was in the case when father was there in the morning." " Yes, that's a point that we must put aside till we have got on Sir Richard's track," said March. " But now, after lunch, what happened?" Miss Weston twisted and untwisted her finger? nervously. "I came away and left them —father and Tony, that is " — she said. " Budha left immediately he had tasted the dishes. He was always served first," she explained further. Father always insisted on a rather big lunch, so that if he didn't come down to dinner when the bell rang we knew we were not to disturb him; that is why I. didn't know anything about it when I came back." , ''You had been out to " "Dinner at Mr. Warrington's house, The Gables. It is about a couple of miles from here, and Millie Warrington is an old school friend. After lunch I went up to my room to finish an evening dress, and—and I never saw him again,"'she finished with a little sob. "Come, come, things may not '-be so bad; he may have gone up to town and forgotten to let you know," said MacBride. ■■ . .' ; ■ ' ' , " Father never forgot anything," she sad, adding with a little wry smile, " Sometimes I wish he did. But I know that he was not going up to town, because he said, that he was going down to see Denistoh alter, his will. That is why they quarrelled, I expect. Anthony has been out very late of recent nights, and father discovered it and reproached him, saying that he must marry me at once and settle down, or he would change his will. I heard this as I was passing from the room." > "And Anthony — Mr. Darford?" prompted Mr. March. "He was angry, I expect, as he always hated the idea. We both did, but we had to let things be for peace and quietness. I don't know what happened after that. Perhaps Packham, ,can tell you,. but that is all I know " her voice trailed away, and she looked up with wild appeal that was not lost upon March. "She's keeping something back," he ejaculated mentally, "but what?" "Ah! And where is Mr. Darford ? Can we see him?" asked Macßride. Miss Weston shrugged' her shapely shoulders. "I expect he is out," she said, with a touch of scorn. "No matter what happened, you couldn't keep him in, since Mr. Deniston arrived on the scene." Here was another stranger, and the eyes of both men met in mutual questioning. "He is the local solicitor," continued Miss Weston, thus answering the silent query of both. "He knew father in India, I think, but at any rate he has done nothing but get Tony into rows by keeping him out ever since he has come.' I hate him; he is a hateful man." She stopped short, drawing a sharp breath. "No, you will have to wait until tomorrow -for Anthony, I expect," she went on, "but I don't suppose he can tell you any more. I am glad you have come, for I have been waiting all the evening since Thompson told me that he had communicated with the authorities in London." March said nothing to' this. _ He was too intent on looking at the slight girlish figure in its flimsy black dress, for his eyes, keen and inscrutable, had taken in the fact that, although she wore high-heeled evening shoes, they were still covered with the dust of the lane through which their car had just passed, and although he could not be sure ot the voice, or v.ven the figure, for she had been too far distant by the time he had got over the hedge, that she had ibeeut

out of the house was proved by the wisp of grass that clung to her skirt. Her story, then, of waiting in all the evening was false. Had the syringe been dropped by her, or by the man, probably Dr. Brent ? One thought chased another, but he remained silent. Then lie turned to Miss Weston again. "I see," he said. "Well, as we cannot see Mr. Darford till the morning, perhaps we could see Budha Das. He might be able to tell us a little more, if only about the missing chain. But there is no need to trouble you further." The.girl rose from her seat, as if glad to escape both questions and scrutiny. "Yes, of course," she said. "Packham shall show you, for, indeed, I am worn out; but you will not let anyone else worry me, will you?" "Indeed not, my clear young lady," cried Macßride, his eyes lilled with an almost fatherly concern. "You leave it all to us and don't worry." With respective good-nights, the girl withdrew. "Poor little girl," said the friendly superintendent. "I don't wonder she doesn't want to be worried r" "Or questioned," put in March, drily. "Don't let your sympathies run away with your head, old man. I would like to know what she was doing out in the lano to-night when our ear was coming along " "But you don't suspect her 1" "1 don't say I suspect," said March, "but I don't like people to lead off with fairy tales, and Miss Woston has not stayed in all the evening." The entry of Packham precluded any further remarks, and the two detectives passed upstairs to what was called the library, which stretched half-way across the big house. It was indeed more like an Indian museum than a library, for although bookcasos were ranged down the walls the end of the room was formed into a replica of the Temple of Kail in Benares, the very temple, in fact, from which the Amulets of Death had been originally stolen. There it stood, complete with steps and altars, the great figure of the goddess herself showing garish and yet sombre in the lights which burned in shallow dishes before it. Here they found a small turbanned figure. March needed no introduction to know that this was Budha Das. He darted towards them, saying: "Ai, ai, you find 'eem—the sahib ?" It was evident that he was unaccustomed to speaking English,, although he could understand it as Packham explained that these were police officers who.wanted to discover what had become of the master of the house. But here the genius of Septimus March came into full force, for he turned to the quivering, working little body of the native, and spoke to him in his own beloved Hindustani. The effect was electrical, a stream of queer hissing words poured forth, reducing Packham and the superintendent to a state of mingled despair at understanding him, and admiration as March nodded in fullest knowledge, and continued his questions. After a few minutes, at the end of which he said in English, "Have courage, Budha Das; I will find the 'Flowers of Sleep,' and to-morrow may have something to show you," the native salaamed and returned to his post as Watcher of Kail, even though the temple were separated from the real one by so many thousands of miles. March turned to his waiting companions and followed them out into the hall. "We can do nothing till we find the Squire, or find what he has done with the Chain. Budha Das does not know whether Sir Richard took it with him, or whether it has been stolen. I will look over the place in the morning, and see Mr. Anthony Darford." Out in the taxi again he said: "Any jdea where to stay, old chap?" :. "Yes," said Macßride. "Thompson advised the Croydale Anns and has, I believe, already engaged rooms for us." This M'as found to be the case, and the two men turned thankfully into the barparlour of the inn, where supper was soo> brought them. (To be continued daily.)