THE KESTREL HOUSE MYSTERY

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 143, 19 June 1931, Page 14

THE KESTREL HOUSE MYSTERY

■| By TC H. JACOBS

CHAPTER XVII. . . In the Night. Barnard was tired, mentally and phvsically, when in the small hours of the morning he tumbled into bed.; For a long time he had wrestled,with the problems which confronted him, a veritable maze of sinister mystery. He had covered many sheets with his round, neat writing,-'but' still there was something which eluded him. It seemed to hover on the edge of his mind, just beyond his mental grasp, tantalising, exasperating. Though so tired, he did not fall asleep immediately. As. he still continued to jmrsue the solution of the riddle he became aware of a sense of oppression, ever growing stronger. It seemed as if he was enveloped in a fog of evil, pressing down upon him, stifling him. He swore softly to. himself as he turned and tossed in the bed, striving hard to throw off the feeling of disquietude which oppressed him. And when at last he fell asleep that feeling still lingered. He dreamed that quite near to him, looming above him, was something incredibly sinister, something directly antagonistic to himself. It assumed no definite form, but its evil presence was there, hanging like a cloud over him. : Barnard' struggled back to consciousness, perplexed and vaguely alarmed. He had some dim idea that he must be on the verge of a serious illness, perhaps he had beeii overdoing things lately. But even as the thought came to him he thrust it aside—that was not the cause. ' A faint grating of metal suddenly riveted his attention; driving out all else from his mind. He had locked the door on retiring, the key was on the inside, and though.he could not see it, he knew that it was being slowly turned in the lock. Someone, using a pair of pliers, specially constructed for the purpose, was breaking into his room. Immediately below the keyhole was a small bolt, which he had also.shot. Barnard smiled grimly to himself as he waited in the darkness to see how this would be negotiated. Presently he heard the door softly pushed and he knew that the intruder had discovered the further obstacle. A moment later he recognised the sound of wire being stealthily pushed, through the hole. The man was using a gimlet with a piece of steel wire welded to it. It would take him some minutes gently to manipulate the instrument so as to establish contact with the knob of the bolt, and lever- it fi-ee. In that time Barnard would be busy. He might have crept across the room and suddenly opened the door, seizing his man "before-he had time to recover; but the chief inspector was anxious to know the purpose of this visit in the night. He had a very shrewd idea, but he wanted to be : certain, ..and to catch, his man red-handed without possibility of escape. Silently withdrawing the long bolster from under the pillows, he stuffed it down the bed and arranged the clothes to resemble, as far as possible, a sleeping'figure.. Then very quietly he rolled to the side and gently lowered himself to the floor.. Creeping across the room, he crouched behind an armchair - and waited. He had ho weapons, but his two big hands and his powerful muscles. It. was but..a few seconds after that he heard the' subdued creak of the opening door and- felt a waft of air across his cheek. By instinct rather than by sight or hearing he knew that, the man had glided into the room with the noiseless .precision of a cat. Peering into the darkness he.niade out the dim outlines, of a figure, which he judged must be completely masked, as he could see not the slightest sign of face. He watched him slide over the floor until he stopped by the bed. Sensed that he was feeling over the mound which should have been a body and hoped that he would not discover the fraud.

A brief pause, the whistle of tensely indrawn breath, a sudden movement in 'the dark and then a thud, half-smothered in the yielding feathers of the bolster. Simultaneously Barnard leaped, hurling himself upon the would-be assassin, his great hands outspread, animated by a cold fury such as he had never known before. His fingers closed upon the neck of the man leaning over the bed, but at the same instant the rug slipped on the polished boards, throwing him sideways. He slid from the bed to the floor, bringing his prisoner down with him, and a second later he realised that he had caught a tartar. Barnard let go one hand and clenched his fist, forgetting all the traditions of the Metropolitan Police in the rage which possessed him. He struck with every ounce he could pack into the blow, but the fellow twisted somehow so that he took the worst of it upon his shoulder.and slipped his knife hand free. Then-- began a desperate struggle for possession of the weapon. Barnard was a heavy, powerful man, but the other seemed as slippery as a snake. Something caught in the inspector's pyjama coat sleeve and he felt his flesh rip beneath. It added fuel to his anger as he realised "that the assassin's arms were adorned with fish hooks, a method of defence much favoured by Continental criminals, and one which would tear his hands to ribbons if he was not extremely careful. . Clinging grimly. to 'Ms opponents wrist he tried time and again to drive-in a blow which would settle the matter, but every, effort was countered with amazing swiftness. Vainly he strove to rip the mask-which covered the other's face, but his fingers could get no grip on the taut silk.i : Exceipt for their heavy ■ breathing, no sound broke the tense silence. Once Barnard had it in mind to shout for Trotter, sleeping in the next room/but instantly suppressed it. No man had.ever yet beaten him in physical combat. ' • . Slowly his fingers worked round to the back of his opponent's hand and, exerting all his strength, he forced it inwards with a steady pressure impossible , to resist. Ejesperately the other strove to break free, but he • was in the grip of a stronger man than himself. He writhed and rolled, lashing savagely with his feet, but the terrible pressure increased until, at last, with a stifled sob of agony, his numbed fingers loosed their hold upon the haft. Barnard was a split second too late in twisting his head aside. The knife fell point downwards, its razor edge slashed Ms temple, pierced his ear,. and stuck quivering in the boards. ■ His attention momentarily lie let go the other's/wrist. With lightning speed the man shot backwards along" the floor, crashed into the. ancient washstahd, somehow slipped around it as it toppled over and, still on his hands and knees, slid: like a shadow from the room, v ■;■'.. -::■;■ .. "\\: ■ .:-.-.■ ■ ; - .

With a bellow of mingled pain and chagrin, Barnard' wrenched the knife from tho boards, leaped to his feet, sprang over the washstand and, roaring for Trotter, ran swiftly down .the stairs. Scarcely had he disappeared when the masked figure stepped from the shadows of an alcove, sped lightly along the corridor, opened the door of a bedroom which he knew, to be unoccupied, slipped across the room, noiselessly, threw .up the window and dropped silently,upon the stable roof. V ".•/•'.- Detective Sergeant Trotter, "• roused from a dreamless slumb.er by the crash of the washstand, sat up in his bed wondering what, had, .awakened him. Suddenly Barnard's bellows.: shattered tho peace of the night and Trotter was instantly wide awake. . , "Coming,. Chief!", he yelled, crossing the room in two leaps; , He met his senior officer at the bottom of the stairs, wildly dishevelled, blood upon his face and pyjavna coat. "Do«- bite me, Chief.!" he . exclaimed, but Barnard cut him short. "After him Trotter, he's gone the other way. Search the roOms while I get some clothes on." Anxious faces were peering from several of the bedrooms, and '"the landlord came forward, a double-barrelled sporting gun iii his hands.'"What's the matter, sir?"- lie exclaimed, in consternation, at the sight of Barnard. "Burglars," snapped the inspector. "Stand by your window, landlord, and if, you see a single thing move in the yard, shoot it." . : ' The landlord was a true son of the moor, wTiere passions are primitive. He had none of the- scruples which might havo checked a city man, and he knew that he was within his" rights to shoot at a burglar. Such an opportunity was not to be : missed, and he hastened eagerly to obey the inspector's command. ■ ..' Barnard crammed on his clothes and thrust his feet into a pair of slippers. Trotter shouted to him as he came out of his room. "Here you are, Chief, this is the way he went, out of this window on to the stable roof. . . . "All right, Trotter, get. some, clothes on and follow me." , , ' V But Trotter contented, himself with his boots, and was with his.chief before he had opened the big .door below. As they came out' into the. yard the landlord's" gun crashed above their heads and for a fleeting second they caught sight of a movement by the gate. "There, he goes, sir/' shouted the excited landlord, "I winged him."Barnard and Trotter sprinted across the yard like a couple of; hounds hot on the scent, but they, saw not a. sign of any living creature. A grey felt hat lay in the road, but its- owner had vanished. "Go that way," ordered Barnard, snatching up the hat arid throwing it into the yard before he set off in the opposite direction. An hour later, weary and worn, he returned to the Blue Boar, where lie found an equally weary Trotter, still clad only in pyjamas, awaiting him. "Well?" he demanded. "Nothing doing, chief, he got away." Barnard sank into a chair and lit a cigarette, a sure sign of his feelings, for ' the chief inspector rarely smoked except under the most trying circumstances: ■ "Where's the hat?" he demanded presently. . - • ; • ■ Trotter lifted the grey felt from the floor beside him and passed it across. Barnard set it upon the table and regarded it fixedly; for .several* minutes. "You know, Trotter," he said at last, "there's something very, distinctive about hats." . .

The detective sergeant nodded; lie had already formed his own opinion about the owner of this particular specimen. "Even a bowler hat may have some very .distinct characteristics, hard as it is, but a soft hat like that is comparatively easy to identify—if you know the owner." . . Trotter nodded again and grinned: "Which we do, eh?" Barnard glanced up sharply. "Whose is it?" he demanded. "Mr. Percival Pyecroft's, I'd say, Ghief." "Quite, it is," replied Barnard. "And he's a very lucky man. Two shots went clean through and lifted it off his head. If he himself was hit it was not sufficiently serious to stop him; Good : shooting in the dark, Trotter!" . "Yes, but pity it wasn't better," growled the weary sergeant. "Talking about that, it's about time, you had that ear of yours dressed. How did it happen, Chief?" , : . .. .;../■ i ' In a few dipt sentences Barnard retailed the story of his fight. ' "Pity you didn't give- me the wire," commented Trotter. "By the way, there's a useful finger "print on. the guard of that knife. The handle is all criss-cross lines, but on the steel guard above the blade there's a clear print.. Serve to identify Pyecroft, I reckon." , . "I'll get that off to H.Q. first thing in; the morning." . ~..■•. "What about, getting a few. more blokes down, too?" asked-Trotter, and a second later, wished he hadn't asked-the question. His senior officer, gave him such, a look.-of withering scorn that even the thick-skinned sergeant .'was temporarily embarrassed. ; -■.-;..-- ■.' .;.'.' "Get that knife packed up and .don't ask fool questions," snapped Barnard; "When I feel incapable of dealing, with a few miserable crooks myself I'll bear in mind your suggestion." .. . , '.. But for; all his; confident -words; the chief: inspector was;, a .very,-, perplexed nian.' He was destined to be more puzzled, than ever when he received the Record Office's report on the finger print upon the knife hilt. ;.; . • 7 ; (To be continued daily.)