A RING OF STEEL

Auckland Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 182, 3 August 1932, Page 16

A RING OF STEEL

GILBERT LITTLESTONE. .

- (CHAPTER V.—Continued.) "Ah, that's the landlord's business," Timms explained. "You see, sir, he is a gentleman as is. very nervous about fire, and I believe that it is a condition of the tenants' leases that they should have their chimneys swept at such time ae he requires. At any. rate, that has been the rule ever since I've been 'ere, and that is why the sweep turns up at all sorts of odd. times when the chimneys want attention." Brent turtied to the inspector. • .

"That is quite right,". he said. "The thing has been done half-a-dozen times since I have, been with my late employer. Rather a nuisance, but it has to be done, and we make the best of it. lam sorry I forgot."

"Oh, that's all right," Craik said. "But doesn't it show you how easy it is to forget, things? Now, if.you had gone in the witness-box yesterday you would have been ready to swear that nobody has been in this flat for the last two years besides the owner and yourself. Oil, there is no. occasion to make an apology, it would have been an honest misapprehension; but you can see , how baflling it might have been to the police if they were pursuing a particular line. Go on, Timms—tell us what happened when the sweep came." "Well, sir, 1 took 'im upstairs, as I told you, and saw 'im inside. Then I came down t again, and I thinks no more about it. And then, about a quarter of an hour later, Mr. Foxcraft, 'e rings 'is bell as sounds down in the basement, and I goes to eee what

'e wants. Matter of fact, sir, 'e didn't want nothing. The dooi - wae shut and fastened, ■ because I tried it, and then, knowing a bit as to what Mr. Foxcraft was, I shouts, out, and the bloke as comes to ew.eep the chimneys, 'e eays as 'owe's broken one of 'is brushes, and would I lend 'im a 'amnier..' Then I hears Mr. Foxcraft Bay as it would be all right, and down I goes and comes back with my own coal 'ammer. I puts it down outside the door, and a bit later I 'ears a lot of noise going on, and then soon after that the sweep, 'e comes; and I didn't see no more of him. But because I'm paid to keep an eye on Mr. Foxcraft when Mr. Brent isn't here, I just went upstairs and pretends as ' I 'eard Mr. Foxcraft calling and asks what he wants, so 'e says it's all right and 'e didn't want to be bothered. So, just to be on the safe side, I tries the door and finds it fast, bo I knows that everything is 0.K."

"Yes, it sounds all right," Craik mur mured. "I suppose you would know tha sweep if you saw him again ?"

"No, I don't think I should, sir," Timms replied. "You eee, it was nearly dark even then, and that sweep was as black as your 'at, 'im evidently 'aving been sweeping chimneys afore 'e come 'ere. No, sir, I am quite sure I wouldn't know 'im again, even if 'e was washed and clean. What I mean, sir, is I should be less likely to know 'im clean than in 'is dirt."

"And not a bad disguise, either," Craik smiled. "Unless he happened to be the sweep who has been here on previous occasions. What have you to say to that, Timms ?"

CHAPTER VI. Timms shook his head decisively. "I couldn't possibly say, sir," he said. "Thoso chape always come in the spring and in the autumn when it's dark, and if they've been sweeping chimneys somewhere else before they comes, as is generally the case, then I wouldn't know 'em from Adam. No use askin , me." "But you know who employs them, I suppose''" "As I told you before, sir, that is the landlord's business I expect it's a sort of contract, but I could find out, and you could find out, eir, for the matter of that." "Yes, I suppose I could," Craik agreed. "Don't you trouble any more about it, Timms. Just give me 'the address of the landlord's agent, and I will see to that if I think it is worth the trouble. All right, Timms, you can go."

Timms vanished, and once more- Craik resumed his examination of the room in which the crime had taken place. Then, as apparently nothing of the slightest moment had come to light, he proceeded to turn out the contents of the safe."

"Seem to be a lot of papers here," he said. "Books and ledgers and letters, besides these documents. Do you happen to know anything of Mr. Foxcraft's relations, by any chance?"

"I don't believe he had anv," Brent said. "He always told me that he was a lonely man. He was under the imprecision that he hadn't a relative in the world. But, of course, that is hardly possible. I know he was exceedingly rich, and that his bank holds securities for a very large sum. This murder is likely to cause a great sensation and probably will find its way into every paper both in England and America. When this happens I shall be veiy much astonished if relatives don't crop up like ■blackberries. And if my late employer didn't leave a will it is going to be a good thing for the lawyers." But Craik was not paying the least attention to what Brent was saying. He was intent on. examining a sheet of foolscap paper 01: which some sort of script was written.

"Is this your employer's writing?" he asked. '■Certainly it is," Brent eaid, after the most cursory glance. "I could recognise that crabbed, fist anywLere."

"Interesting, very interesting," Craik murmured. "Do you remember being in Rome, yes, about December of last year, when Mr. Foxeraft was staying at the Neapolitan Hotel?" "Of course I do. I was with him at the time. Why?"

"Oh, well, only because this appears to be a will made by the dead man and witnessed by the proprietor and his head waiter. At least, that is what I make it out to be."

"Do you really mean that?" Brent exclaimed. "If you are <right, I am rather glad to hear it. Everything being equal, that document will save a lot of time and trouble, because I know Mr. Foxeraft was going to leave a lot of art treasures he never would part with to the National Gallery." "Quite right," Craik said, with his eyes still on the document. "There is a list of pictures here. Also a large sum left for the foundation of art scholarships. And now lam going to surprise you, Mr. Brent. The residue of the estate is left to you, and two leading R.A.'s arc mentioned as executors. Thih looks to me like a very large fortune.' .

Brent almost collapsed into his chair and stared, wide-eyed, at the speaker.

'"This is absolutely overwhelming," he gasped. "I knew that Mr. Foxeraft was going to do something for me because

he always said so, but I never expected more than a thousand-or two because I have been very well paid for the slight services 'I ■ have rendered. I suppose I shall grasp it all presently, .but, meanwhile , I am absolutely overcome. You will take care of that document, inspector, won't you ? I don't know the proper hands in which it ought to be placed, but we can find that out."

"I think I know that already," Craik said. "I will communicate ••. with the gentlemen mentioned as executors and, .no doubt, they will consult eome eminent lawyer. You see, the National Gallery has a claim and as both these executors are on the committee they must see that the proper thing is done. And now I don't think I need detain you any longer. I am going- to send some w.orkmen to repair the damage : to the front'door, and place the official seal on it. Then 1 will ask you to hold yourself at my disposal so that I may consult you should necessity arise. I think you-said just now' that you had a lodging not very far away and, presumedly, you are on the telephone. You know my number, everybody does."

"My landlady has a telephone, as a matter of fact," Brent said. "Well, inspector, if I can't be any more use to you at present I will be getting on." ■ There they parted for the moment and Brent, in a dazed, condition, like a man in a dream, made his way in the direc-: tion of his lodgings and, for the next hour or eo, made a more or lees successful attempt to get hie dazed mind into focus ,again. He sat, hour after hour, in his little sitting room until darkness fell and he came out of his reverie at length to the knowledge that' Marjorie had entered and was standing by his side. "Why, what on earth has happened?" ehe cried. "Why are you sitting here in the dark? I shouldn't have seen you at all but for the light from the lamp in the road outeide." ' . ,• . ■_

"Then you haven't heard what • has happened ?" "Oh. yes, I have; the evening papers are full of it."' What a perfectly ghastly thing, Cecil, and how on earth did it happen ? How did the murderer get into the flat? From what I have read, and what you have told me, it would have been just as easy for the criminal to have got into a fortress." "Oh, don't ask me," Brent said wearily. "I have been thinking about it all the afternoon. The poor old chap has been murdered right enough, and all that wonderful etuff we brought back from Paris has been stolen. Another twenty-four hours and it would have been safe in the bank. We must have been watched and dogged all the way to Paris and back, and, no doubt, for months past those scoundrels have studied old Foxcraft's ways and habits. What a cunning scheme, cunningly carried out!" "Yes, and what a pity you_ weren't there last night," Marjorie cried. "It couldn't have happened then."

"Don't you think so? Don't you euppose that those people knew my movements as well as his? It may be a selfish thing to say, but if I had been in the flat last night there would have been two murders instead of one. i tell you, Marjorie, Xam utterly dazed. And now, on the top of all the other amazing happenings, the police inspector who is in charge of the case discovered in the safe in. the flat the poor old gentleman's will. Marjorie, he has left me a large fortune."

"Oh, how dreadful!" the girl eaid. "At least, I don't quite mean that —but in the circumstances—you know what I mean. Of course, the money will be very useful, but at the same time I am sure you would have forfeited every penny rather than have thus happen. It sounds almost like blood money."

"That is exactly as I feel," Brent said, struggling to his feet. "I can't think of money or anything else just at present. I have been eitting here all the afternoon brooding until my nerves are all in rags. I muet go out and do something, Marjorie, I can't stay here any longer. Let us go to one of those quiet places in Soho and have a little dinner."

"Anything you like, Cecil," Marjorie said. "And I am quite sure the freeh air will do you good."

They set out presently, eide by side, very eilent at first, but the cloud lifted somewhat once they were inside the restaurant, and the bright, fresh atmosphere of the place began to have its effect. Before they reached their coffeo and cigarettes, the cloud had lifted from Brent's brow, and Marjorie wae smiling.

"This will make a wonderful diff'tv ence to you, Cecil, won't it?" she asked "I mean, to your future."

"I don't know ' why it should. Of course, I shall be independent and able to do as I like, but, you eee, I have had three or four years of life at its worst, and that makes you take a sane view of valuee. So far as you are concerned, it is going to make a difference. Marjorie, I can eay things to you now I couldn't have said a few days ago, and

I am concerted ftnough to think that you know what those things are. Don't you, Marjorie?"

The girl looked him frankly in the eyes and smiled into his face with just a dash of colour in her cheeks.

"Yes, I think I do," she murmured. "But not here, my dear, not here. Perhaps a little later on—"

She broke off and looked down demurely at her plate. But though no further word was spoken on the subject the understanding was clear enough, and Brent wae feeling a great deal happier in his mind as he parted from Marjorie an hour later, and watched her as she went upstairs to the eeclusion of her bedroom. Then, as he turned, he saw Polly Moffat by his side.

"There ie someone on the telephone asking for you, Mr. Cecil," she said. "I've left the receiver off."

Brent took up the receiver and called, givinv his name ae he did so. Back came Craik's quiet voice.

"That you, Mr. Brent?" he asked. "Oh, yes. I wish you would come and see me the first thing in the morning. Yes, I have been making inquiries."

"Any definite result?" Brent asked eagerly.

" 'Curiouser and curiouser,' as Alice said," came the reply. "Be here early to-morrow, please." And, with that, the line went dead. (To be continued daily.)