THE KESTREL HOUSE MYSTERY

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 148, 25 June 1931, Page 22

THE KESTREL HOUSE MYSTERY

By TC. H. JACOBS \

CHAPTER XXII. Barnard Forces an Entry. "Now," said Barnard, "Trotter and myself will go in. You, Ford, will guard the rear entrance, and you, Sergeant Drew, will remain at the front, but you must both keep out of sight, understand?"

The two local policemen nodded. All day they had been watching Kestrel House for any sign of life within, and now that evening was approaching Barnard had decided to force an entry. His previous visit that morning had failed to bring any response from the inhabitants, and lie had concluded that they were on the defensive. Once he had caught a brief glimpse of the big.butler's face at an upper window, eo he knew that his birds had not flown. "All right," he said briskly. "Come along, Trotter." Sergeant Trotter adjusted the angle of his bowler hat, pulled liis jacket more closely "about him, and stepped out beside his cliicf. In silence they went through the plantation, and rapidly crossed the strip of lawn to the heavy, oak door which was the front entrance to Kestrel House. Barnard slipped a bunch of,keys from his pocket, and inserted one in the lock.

"Probably,well bolted inside," he muttered. Then, as the lock turned and he pushed gently against the wood, "No, by gad, it's not!" "Steady, Chief," warned. Trotter in a low voice. "This is too easy." ' Barnard thrust open the door with a sudden movement and drew back. Nothing happened, and he walked in, Trotter close.behind. A deathly, silcnce pervaded the place j even the clock which had so irritated Ba.rnard on his first visit had ceased to tick. An air of stagnation, threatening, oppressive enshrouded them. Trotter glanced around with considerable curiosity, but Barnard allowed him no time for any detailed inspection. "They're somewhere at the top of 'Jie house," he whispered. "Come on, and look out for traps." . '

Just as tliey were about to move forward there came a soft sound behind, them. Trotter glanced round and perceived that the front door was slowly closing ou its own accord. He gripped Barnard's "See that, Chief!" he whispered. "I'm not blind," snarled Barnard. "And don't seize my arm like that again, you fool." Trotter very deliberately took a revolver from hie pocket as he followed his chief up the stairs. Ho didn't like doors which closed as that one had done. At the head of the stairs Barnard paused and listened; a slight noise had attracted his attention, the sound of shufflings footsteps somewhere in a room along the corridor. A second later a door opened, and the face of Andre Moineau appeared for an instant before it was withdrawn with amazing swiftness. Without -hesitation Barnard sprang forward and raced along the corridor. He seized the handle and flung, open ,tlie door. Throwing caution to the winds,' he leaped into the room, but quick as he had been there was no sign of his quarry. Trotter behind him gave an exclamation of astonishment and stared blankly around. There appeared to be no possible means of . exit, even the single window was protected with stout iron bars. "Shut the door and stand by it," snapped Barnard. - Trotter did. as he was commanded, and, revolver ready, watched his chief as he crossed to a large cupboard on the other side : of the room. Barnard pulled open the door revealing some old clothes hung on pegs, but nothing else; For several moments lie stared into the cupboard, and then, sweeping aside the coats, gave a grunt of satisfaction as he discovered a knob at the back. , Taking hold of it, he turned it about. There was a soft grating noise and the whole of the rear slid down, disclosing an aperture just large enough for him to squeeze through. Motioning Trotter to remain where he was, Barnard pushed into the cupboard, and with some difficulty got through the opening. He found himself in a small chamber totally devoid of furniture, and smelling strongly of some chemical which he could not identify. While he was standing in the middle of thn room searching the Walls for the secret exit, which he knew must exist, the grating sound was repeated. Before he could take a step forward the back of the cupboard shot up into -place again. He heard Trutter give a bellow of mingled pain and rage, and the re.volver crashed twice. 'Barnard leaped at the door of the small chamber and hurled his shoulder against it, but he might have endeavoured with equal success to batter his way through the outer walls of the building, for that sliding door was made of steel. He realised that he was trapped, that Trotter was probably dead and he himself in the gravest possible danger, but it was characteristic of the man that he remained deadly calm, without the smallest hint of panic. The chemical smell became more pungent; it filled the room and made him cough painfully: He guessed that the place was 'full ' of some poisonous gas, increasing in density every second. He slipped, his torch, from ,his pocket and saw that his-surmise was correct—the beam shone through a greenish haze. A violent fit of coughing took him; he felt his senses reeling as he staggered to the wall for support. Something seemed to burst ill: his head and he fell in a crumpled heap upon the floor. When Barnard returned to consciousness he found himself lyingupon something hard, raised several feet from the ground. All around him was chemical apparatus and electric plant. In one corner stood a metallurgist's furnace, which was giving out considerable heat. But the object which attracted his attention most, was a, large cylinder, some 7ft long and 4ft in diameter. He noticed that it was connected by a series of fine wires to a large box beneath. There was something strangely sinister about this cylinder, and Barnard shivered as he gazed at it. The action' revealed the I fact that both his feet and wrists were 'tightly bound to the table on which he was stretched. 4 • . He heard a shuffling step behind him and the liarsh, cracked voice of Andre Moineau spoke. . • . "All, so' you have recovered consciousness, Mr. Barnard^—good. I was hoping that you would not delay my experiment too long. One day I promised to show ' you my apparatus, did X not? Well, here \ve are; wonderful, is-it not?" Barnard could see liini now, and again he.shivered. The terrible old man, with his vulture-like face and black skull cap drawn over his ears, nioved. into his 'range of vision and: Stood staring at him

with a fearful, inhuman expression in his bright eyes. "You don't say anything," he complained. "Perhaps you are wonderiiig where you are. Somewhere where I'm afraid that your friends will not find you, Mr. Barnard.. You are, in fact, underground, as safe a retreat as one could imagine. They will never solve the secret of your disappearance and never find their way down here. But that is beside the point. Let me now give you a brief explanation, ; which you will ho doubt find interesting and which, perhaps, may make you more reconciled to the part which you are destined to play in the sacred' cause of science. I will endeavour to be as non-technical as possible." "In my younger days," continued Moineau, drawing the shabby dressinggown closer about his frail figure, as he leaned against a bench, "it was the custom among scientific men to deny the existence of a soul. I don't know to which of the many sects of that amazing imposture, Christianity; you yourself adhere, but doubtless it has taught you to believe that you have a soul. Now just what do you understand that mysterious thing to be? Don't trouble to answer, you will tell me some nonsense you learned parrot-fashion as a small boy. Nevertheless, however confused and fantastic your ideas may be, you are actually possessed of a soul, and it is your soul with which I am, concerned. . I must have it. I am in fact, Mr. Barnard, a soul thief." The harsh cackle which Moineau gave as he made this astounding confession jarred every nerve in the chief inspector's body. He was the victim of something worse than a madman, something so foul that he was conscious of nausea. Moineau grinned evilly as he watched the effect of his words, then he went on again.

"Modern science teaches the real constitution of matter and reveals that the atom of every element of matter is a particle of electricity. Behind all physical and mental phenomena, conscious or unconscious, there is that vital force, and the phenomena which are termed physical and mental are merely different sides of the same kind. "Now, Mr. Barnard, have you ever seriously studied that marvellous structure, the human body? You have hot,' of course. Sufficient will it be for me to explain that by far the most important item of its wonderful construction are the nerves. Your nerves make you'a living, breathing, thinking creature.' They carry messages to the muscles and glands, nerve thrills I will call them. What is a nerve thrill? We do not at present know, but every nerve thrill ,is electrical, but may not in itself be an electric wave. That, of course, is beyond your comprehension, but, put very loosely, it means that there are kinds and degrees even with electricity. Our whole being is vitally bound up with our nervous system; it is our life; all our thoughts and emotions are controlled by our nerves. The vital force, life, the soul, call it what you will, is stored in the nerves, and' that vital force is purely electrical." ' % Moineau paused, and wiped his forehead. Barnard stared back at him doggedly. Ho had some inkling of his dreadful intention. "Your soul, then," resumed the old man, "is simply electricity. ■ Not, perhaps, the variety which you. knovvvwheh you press a switch in your suburbau villa, or wherever yojf-live; 'but 'similar; basically the same, but with a subtle difference too technical for your rather limited intelligence,, to grasp. "Perhaps you believe, in 6ome vague way which you. most certainly would not be able to explain, that your soul is lodged in your mind, is your mind, in fact. What, then, is the difference between mind anil matter?. Mind, Mr. Barnard, is a direct product of the brain, and has no separate, independent existence. Every thought, every act is merely the result of'electrical action within the brain, an explosion, a discharge of a' cell. What you term your soul: proves-itself to be a wonderful ,electric'; force. /. life, are synonymous expression'sVfor the same vital force. -You! follow' me?" •-V Barnard, scarcely knowing what he was doing, nodded, and Moineau favoured him with a grin of approval. "Now, Mr. Barnard, we come to the heart of the whole piatter, the work on which I have been engaged for years. I have shown you that, your vital life force is electrical, then, if that is- so,, it should be capable of being trapped and stored, and when necessary retrans-. mitted to a second body. My experiments have shown me that this is not only possible, but is now an accomplished fact. I have done it. I have solved the riddle of eternal life!!!"

It seemed to Barnard that the frail, bent old man actually grew'taller in that moment of exultation. His wild eyes gleamed with a fanatical- fii ; e fairly blazing from his death's head face. He 'swept his long, withered hands around:

"There is the result of all my years Of labour," he cried. "All that delicate apparatus is the product of my brain.. With it I am able to trap and store the. soul of any living creature. I am; master of the world of men. You; poor miserable fool, should feel honoured that I have selected you as a lie subject for. my research." The lit passed, and Moineau sank against the bench, quivering: from head to foot. But with astonishing swiftness, he seemed to recover, and he grinned, half apologetically. . ; "Forgive me, Mr. Barnard," he eaid. ; "Now listen. I have told you of my successes, let me tell you of my failures. No; that is not right, for so-called failure to a wise man :is merely the bridge to ultimate successes."

Moineau explains. Barnard listened as in a dream to the harsh voice as it continued: "Have you ever. examined a drop of blood under' the microscope ? Probably you have. Well, then, you will know that blood contains myriads of minute corpuscles in a yellowish serum." Moineau paused and pointed a long skinny finger at the chief inspector helpless upon-the table, "Now, follow me carefully, Mr. Barnard, for we come to a really astonishing fact. The serum is congenial to its own corpuscles, but will destroy the red cells of the blood of any other creature introduced into it. Now the degree of action of i one kind of blood on another depends on the nearness of relationship of the two animals. The closer the relationship the less destructive the action. The blood of man, for instance, mingles quite peaceably with that of the anthropoid apes. So your ancestors were monkeys after all, Mr. Barnard ... curious, is it not? "However, in my experiments, I found that blood played a very important part, had a vital connection with the quality of the life force," which, so that you will understand, L have called the soul. Before I discovered this I inclined to the belief that the .life force of any living thing was simply a' matter of degree, that fundamentally it was identical. I was first successful in collecting the vital force; of a, hound; this I retransmitted to a human being. But the effect was disastrous. I had wasted the body to the point of death, but while the experiment of retransmission restored the body itself in a manner beyond my wildest dreams, the effect upon the delicate nerve cells of the brain, while vastly interesting, was disastrous. The subject assumed all the mental characteristics of the hound, and gave me so much trouble in keeping it under restraint, that I was .reluctantly forced to destroy it.. I worked hard to find the connecting link, and, as I have explained, I finally located-at -, in the blood. Why it should be so ;I ;do not, at the moment, know, but on one point I am sure beyond doubt, the best results are obtained from human beings in. perfect health, mentally and physically. I incline to the opinion that the former is the more important, and for that reason I prefer to have females for my subjects. A woman's brain is of finer material than that of a man, more delicate, capable of more subtle expression, though having lees reserve of •energy." ' (To Be Concluded.)