The Mysterious Masquerade

Auckland Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 267, 10 November 1932, Page 22

The Mysterious Masquerade

by . • « . J. R. ' WILMOT

CHAPTER xxrr.—(Continued.) Tlie girl ivrenclied herself away from Molly's grasp. Tears softened tlie hardness of her eyes. Then she seemed to steel herself. "So you've suffered, have you?" she said, slowly. "God, yon don't know what suffering is. How d'you think I've been living all these years? I got entangled with a rotter of a man; a swindler, that's what ho was—a common thief. I didn't know that when he married me. Said lie had a city job. He had," she went on, bitterly, "he was a swell confidence swindler in the West End; that's what he was. Led me a hell of a life that man did. I had a child," she was "nearly sobbing now, "she died; only lived a week. I wish I'd died, too. I'd have been, happier. But I'm lid of him now, thank God. Ho went to the States and joined a gang. Someone, plugged him about twelve months ago. Since then, I've .... just drifted downstream; tried to keep myself respectable. How I've done it, God alone knows, but I have. And then you tell me you've suffered?" "I'm sorry murmured Molly, her own eyes very moist, "but doesn't what you have told me strengthen my argument that you should eomo home with me? Please think it over."

"Xo," announced the girl, deliberately. "I'm proud. ' D'you think my father would like to . . . but 110 that's impossible. You're his daughter, and you've to go on being his daughter and helping me to live my own way. I've made my bed and here I lie." There was a finality to thasa words that caused a chill to break oil Molly's heart.

"How did you discover us?" asked Molly, trying desperately to play for a little more time iii svhich. to think it over the problem. "Just luck," smiled tlie girl. "There's a woman here who happens to clean the block of flats where you are now. Site's an infernal gossip, and I heard her mention that a Major Carstairs and his • daughter had taken one of the flats over. Naturally, I was interested. I have an old photograph of him that I took away with me from the Silvers. I went round yesterday—last night,' and Iysaw both of you leave in a taxi. It was him all right. I recognised it immediately. But I couldn't place you. Then I knew you were an imposter. I knew I'd got you; knew I'd make you pay. I'd get some of my own back on life; that's how kid, and that's how it's going to be. What about another tenner at the end of the week ?" Molly stood frozen with horror. "You mean blackmail If" she cried. "I believo that's the word, kid. Not nice, of course, but they'd give you five years at How Street for impersonation. Shall we call it a bargain?" "But I can't —I can't," protested Molly, frenzied .with fear. "I'll run away—anywhere. I'll not do it." The conviction in her tone startled the girl. She saw her plan fading before her eyes, and it had looked so simple. "Look here," the other's tone was more conciliatory. "I'm not as bad as I seem, really, I'm not, but now I've found you there's something I'd very much like to do. I'd like to put one over on the Silvers. I want to get even with them before I come back. There's lots of things I know about them that can be turned to profitable account. I'll begin right away/ But I want you to carry 011 as if nothing had happened— as if you hiidn't met me. want some money to 'do it with, of course. You wouldn't mind that, now, would you? You want to pay them back, too. Let me do it for you; I them better. I'll scare them both to hell. What do you say?" Molly felt that she had succeeded; that she had extracted a promise from the girl to return to her father and that everything would be straightened out before very long. "I'll do anything I possibly can," Molly agreed. "That's the ticket. And now you'd better be getting back home. Poppa will be wondering where his little girl can have got to." She was cynical again now, and as Molly crept down those dark stairs the girl's voice rang eerily in her ears, and she knew slie was desperately afraid. S CHAPTER XXIII. The staircase leading to Roger Barling's service flat was wrapped in darkness. Usually on the second landing a solitary electric globe lighted the way of the latecomer until approximately three o'clock in the morning, when by some automatic device contrived by the landlord, it extinguished itself. Roger Barling had been down to the country. Since his meeting once again with Molly Carstairs lie had an idea that Dalton Towers might possibly be in' use more often in the near future. To that end he had been down to Surrey that afternoon 'to consult . the land steward, a vassal who received what Roger considered to be a princely income for doing very little indeed. There had been something of a stir at the Towers on Roger's appearance. The small skeleton staff, consisting of a caretaker, appeared ..thoroughly alarmed, and in some odd way felt that Roger had come down with the express intention of sell-, ing the old placed—a fate which was by 110 means new in these days of pressing financial demands and the high costs of maintaining even the smallest country estates.

Roger, however, appeared to have found quite a new interest in Dalton Towers. He' pressed for particulars of this and of that; asked about the strength of the personnel; consulted the books regarding the amount of the profit—or loss—for the year on the small home farm, and insisted that estimates should be obtained immediately for a thorough overhaul of the hard tennis court and the two grass courts.

Altogether he had spent a delightful day in the country. He had even, called on his near neighbour, Sir Forbes Richardson and his charming wife, who lamented the fact that Roger was such a "town boy," and hoped that he would, in the coming spring, find more time to visit his small estate. And Roger had gone away leaving the impression behind him that "something was in the air."

It had been close to midnight • when he had reached London. He had dropped into the club for some supper, not wishing to impose too harshly 011 Cleveland, and it was nearly one o'clock as he mounted.the stairs to his menage. He paused halfway up the stairs, noting the absence of light that should have been lighting his way from above. Thinking that something must have gone awry with the automatic device, or else the lamp had burned out, he sprang lightly up the steps towards the enveloping darkness.

Suddenly he paused, becoming curiously aware that above him, in the gloom, he was not alone. He had heard nothing, not a sound. Perhaps it had been a sudden deepening of the shadows around the angle of tlie landing. Roger listened intently. It might have been someone breathing, or it might have been.the wind blowing under a door from a half-opened window in one of the rooms. Whatever it was, Roger grew suspicious, and being suspicious he was more cautious than usual. Slowly and noiselessly he crept upwards until he reached the first landing. Then it happened. Something swished past his right ear with a disconcerting proximity. Judging by the blow which descended on his clavicle someone nearby was using a loaded stick. Forgetting the pain which stabbed his shoulder, Roger rushed forward to where the shadows were deepest, and his eager hands gripped a human, form. The subsequent struggle was fortunately a short one. Roger managed to get one hand on the man's throat and the other on the napo of his neck, and finding that he was against the wall rapped the man's head sharply on the plaster. Whether the man had anticipated the assault or not,, he certainly made small resistance to Roger's shock tactics, and inside three minutes Roger found himself with an unconscious man in his arms. Lowering tho man to the floor, Roger mounted the remaining stairs to his apartment, lie lot himself in with his latchkey, switched on tho light, and rang for Cleveland, who had a room under tho room in the caretaker's department. Without waiting for liis man, Roger returned to tho scene of the combat of a moment ago and managed to drag the limp form .of the man up the stairs to his rooms. His shoulder was still paining him, but he was thankful to know that 110 bones had been broken. There would probably be a nasty bruise there in the morning. He laid the man on a settee and was standing surveying him when Cleveland entered, wearing a rough blanket dressing. gown and revealing his pyjamacd legs below. "You rang, sir?"' "Xes, Cleveland, we have a visitor,'' smiled Roger. "We met on the stairs. He tried to swipe me one with a I expect it's lying out there somewhere. Fortunately he missed my cranium, and I managed to get in before he had time to realise his error. Nasty piece of work, Cleveland," he added, nodding to tho recumbent figure. "Friend of yours ?" Cleveland consulted Mr. Judson's features with interest. "Now you mention it, sir, I've seen the fellow hanging around for a day or two. He once asked me for a cigarette. Is he dead, sir?" "The dead do not breathe, Cleveland. That is one of the elementary physiological facts with which medical students have to be cognisant. He will probably awake in a moment or two with a rather bad head. You'd better prepare coffee for two." "Very good, sir. But I don't want to leave you here alone with him. It might be as well if we trussed him up. There's some window cord in the bureau drawer, sir." "If you insist, Cleveland, perhaps that would be just as well. By the way, I have just remembered who our visitor is. He is a fellow name of Judson, chauffeur and general handyman for a certain Mr. Paul Silver who lives at Hampstead. Apparently he has developed homicidal tendencies. We must have a chat with him." Cleveland had found the cord and in a manner which astonished Roger proceeded to bind Mr. Judson's wrists and feet securely. "Now for the coffec, sir."

(To be continued daily.)