THE FOURTH MAN

Auckland Star, Volume LXIV, Issue 106, 8 May 1933, Page 15

THE FOURTH MAN

| By R. A. j. WALLING. Author of "The IHerafleld Mystery," "The Third Degree," erto., eta.

Pinson folded up the paper and passed it back to me. "You'd better take care of that," he said. "I suppose it would be too much ; to ask you if you noticed the particular book which Selwyn had been using—l mean the book where you found this?" But I did remember very well. As I have said, the title was being drummed . into my mind through my eyes while they were avoiding the spectacle that ' Lomax desired to display to them. "Yes," I said. "It was called 'General Acts,' and I remember the very pageheadings of the opening where I found . the paper—24 and 25 Victoria, Chapter 06." Pinson looked at me with surprise. "What an extraordinary trick of the memory!" he said. I explained the circumstances. He went to a bookshelf and consulted a reference book. "Yes, yes," he said, musing. "It was 1801, a fruitful year of criminal legisla- , tion. Chapter 96 is the Larceny Act. 1 Didn't notice the clause, I expect?" But my observation had not gone as • far as that. • "It's all speculation, and you can't rely on the coincidence. But Section . 44 of Chapter 90 deals with threatening letters. Looks as if Selwyn might | have been rubbing it up that night. Now, I wonder if he and Marple were rubbing it up together? You say they were in the library a long time? And that after Marple had gone Olver was called in as if for a court-martial? Very strange and interesting. But we haven't enough material by a long way yet. Now, come and. get some dinner, Quilter, , and then make your peace with the girls. I'm sure they'll be glad to know we have joined forces. Don't let them worry, and don't worry yourself. But meet me at Bieliopsgate Street again in the I morning at ten. I think possibly Parsons may be able to turn up some more clues for us. By the way, Parsons is ; just as convinced as you are that Olver was incapable of this thing." [ I had gone to Pinson's full of misgivings and resentments. I left with a pleasant sense of a load lifted from . my nnnd. CHAPTER XVI. . before going to meet Pinson in the 1 city next morning I arranged my affairs so as to be absent from business for the ■ rest of the week. I had a partnership : ln a garage at Chelsea, which, by the : way, served us very well during the ; next day or two. Pinson was already at Burns, Selwyn , an d Selwyn when I arrived at Bishops- ■ gate Street, and Parsons took me to him at once in Selwyn's room. Pinson said he had talked about our inquiry with Parsons, who had promised I hi f llel P- The managing clerk had been . with the firm since the time of Selwyn's father—-more than thirty years, in fact and remembered Selwyn himself when ; he was youth. Pinson had told him that it might ba important to trace the facts of Selwyn's earlier life, especially any connection he had with business in ■ Argentina. He had undertaken to pro- ; duce any documents lying in the office likely to throw 'light on the connection, r "The governor," said Parsons, "was L greatly interested in Argentina; he had , lots of investments and other concerns out there. Only last week he was ask- . ing me to look up a ship arriving from Buenos Aires. It's a long story. He , had been interested in Argentina* before ever he came to Bishopsgate Street. In fact, he'd have been out there, I expect, if it had not been for his father's age \ and bad health, which brought him here after he had served his articles with another firm. There were a lot of ' youths in those days, a little gang of | school chums, who thought of making ; their fortunes in the Argentine boom. " The governor was one. Then there wa9 Mr. Akaster, who died out there—Miss Evelyn's father—and Mr. Marple. Marple ; and Akaster both went out, Akaster as • an engineer and Marple in business of some sort. I think Marple did meatbroking. Mr. Selwyn was in constant correspondence with them, and saw to • their legal business home here. And, as you know, he looked after Mrs. Akaster the year or two before she died, and Miss Evelyn ever since." Parsons stopped and toyed with a bunch of keys he held in hand. "There was a tale," he said, hesitating. "I don't know whether I ought to rake it up. But there was probably something in it." "Any tale may hide a clue, Parsons," said Pinson. "Well, it was said, and I think it was true, that Mr. Selwyn and Akaster, as youths together, fell in love with the same girl. She married Akaster, and went out to Buenos Aires with him, where Miss Evelyn was born. Anyhow, Mr. Selwyn, who had been a bright boy with the ladies, would never have anything to do with women after that. I know that much of it to be true. It was all to the benefit of Burns, Selwyn and Selwyn, of course, because he tucked into work and made the concern three times as 'big a-business as his father has left it. But I'm a married man myself, and I've often been sorry for him in the last twenty years. He was so lonely in that old house of his. The sort of solitary life that would give me the creeps., It was better the last year or so. with Miss Evelyn there. And then . . . But I don't like gossiping about the dead." Parsons broke, off short. "I don't need to tell you, Mr. Parsons, how important gossip may be as evidence. And you know that if there's nothing in the gossip it will go no further." "Well, then, Mr. Pinson, we got to know in the office' that all was not well with Mr. Akaster in Buenos Aires. There was some trouble betvveen him and his wife before she came home, and he was in the wrong. It was a great grief to Mr. Selwyn. If he was in love with Mrs. Akaster it was in a very manly and honourable fashion, for he took no advantage of the trouble, and went to no end of pains to get it right. But Akaster must have been a wrong 'un, for after his wife's death he went all adrift. Very bad, very bad indeed. He squandered all the money he had and went to the dogs. For years Mr. Selwyn maintained Miss Evelyn, though she knew nothing about it. And when her father ended up in prison for some fraud

CHAPTER XV. Pinson placed me in a bad dilemma. I had to admit to myself the force of much, of his reasoning. But I noticed that throughout he had carefully refrained from mentioning the name of Olver, and it was about Olver above all other considerations that I was concerned. True, I had given a sort of hostage to Marple, but if Pinson's suspicions had any foundation nobody would blame me for breaking faith with him, and I do not think my own conscience would have been deeply wounded. My friendship with Olver and my regard for Evelyn were on a different plane. I could not make np my mind how to reply to Pinson's challenge. I temporised with him. "You won't mind if I ask you a question or two," I said. "Not a bit." "Then, do you believe that Olver had anything to do with this? If you do, and you nro determined to carry through without regard to the consequences, then I shall refuse to say a word either to you or to anybody else." "I don't believe anything," said Pinson. "We haven't reached the stage of belief —only inquiry so far." "And Marple?" "Same thing. I don'c believe. I only want to know. The only thing I believe is that Selwyn was murdered; the thought makes my gorge rise, and I mean to find out who did it. Look here, Quilter, the question for you is—for or against? You must decide. Do you want to discover who did this beastly thing and get him his deserts? Or do you think that for any cause whatever it is right and proper that a kind and decent man like Selwyn should be done to death and that you should pass by unheeding?" When he put the position with this blunt frankness I saw how strange it must seem to Pinson that I could have a moment's hesitation in pledging myself to him and his inquiry. Yet I still hesitated, both on account of Olver and on account of Marple. I could not forget Bernard's cry of "Good-bye" as he passed Joan and me, or my talk with him as we sat on the margin of the lake on Monday morning. And I could not forget that Marple had so far kept Olver out of the hands of the police. "I will tell you all I know on conditions," I said to Pineon. "Go on," said he. "What are the terms ?" "First, that you promise not to take any steps whatever against Olver.. You know that it would break Evelyn's heart if you did. But you have spoken of acting regardless of consequences. That's one consequence that I can't tolerate." Pinson looked very straight at me for a moment or so. "What other terms?" he asked. "That's by far the most important. I make it for Evelyn's sake, and Joan's, and my own. You perhaps don't understand our feelings towards each other." "I think I do. Selwyn disapproved of the idea of an engagement between his partner and his ward. Go on to the other terms." "I warn you," said I, "that I say nothing unless you concede this one. As for the rest, there is only Marple. I cannot believe that Marple is guilty of having had any hand in this. Bernard did not like him. There was something like jealousy. But so far as I've been able to study Marple I think he's a decent fellow." "Very likely," said. Pinson, "but come to the terms." "The same," said I—that you take no steps against Marple." ( Pinson did not reply at once. He got up from his long chair, lit a cigarette, and paced the room between window and door. Then he faced me. "I can't promise about Marple. As to Olver, yes. As to Marple, let him go free until and unless any need can be proved to interfere with him. But look here, Quilter, if Marple killed Selwyn why should you wish to save him?" "I wish to save nobody who has committed a crime," said I, shortly. "I believe in the . innocence of Marple, and I am under certain pledges." Pinson showed impatience. "It's hardly worthy of you to chaffer like this in such a matter," said he. "Nevertheless, I will promise not to touch Marple unless I can prove to you both necessity and justice." I Then I gave way. "Very well," I said, "on thtse conditions I will tell you all I know. But I'm putting myself in your hands, Mr. Pinson. Not that it matters in the least about me, but there's Olver and Evelyn. I trust myself and-them to a gentleman." "And so I told him the story of what happened at Waller House on Saturday night, of my interviews with Marple, of the journey to the west, and of my return to find Marple's note waiting for me. More than that, I told him what no living soul but myself knew, and that was of the finding of the letter in the leaves of the law book on Selwyn's table. I showed him the document, which none but Selwyn and myself, probably, had ever seen since it was written. It was a folded sheet of plain notepaper, the second part of a letter which had begun on another similar sheet, and it contained these words:— "... pose as a reasonable man, but your conduct towards me has been most devilish. "To-morrow night wc will square accounts. I have been put off long enough. You and he may think you are too strong for me, but you will find you are wrong. —B.O." Pinson read and re-read and scrutinised ! this document. | "This looks good enough to have hanged your friend Bernard," he said. "A good job for him Inspector Lomax didn't get hold of it. I hope they won't by any chance find the first half." I remarked that perhaps he could not see why I had been reluctant to unfold the thing's I knew. "I think. I can see what was at the back of your mind, Quilter. But I confess I don't understand it. If Olver should prove to be as vile as circumstances make him appear, would you still believe that friendship made it necessary for you to shield him 1" "I have never looked at it from that point of view," I said, "because I am perfectly sure that Olver is not vile and has not done a vile tiling, and that all the appearances against him are nothing but a- collection of frightful coincidences."

or other he took great care that she 3 should know nothing about it. Sh6 3 believes to this day that he was a good » father and an honourable though an 1 unfortunate man." , "That's a nasty little story, Parsons," , said Pinson, "and I don't wonder you ' weren't very keen to tell it. But it may -be valuable knowledge. I suppose [ Marple knew all about this?" ' "I can't say. He was in Argentina 1 all the time. I never heard him dis* ! cussing anything like that with the ' governor, and I Shouldn't have known 5 about the Akaster business if ? the ' governor hadn't relied on me for looking after the accounts for Miss Evelyn's '■ education and allowances and getting • the whole thing done secretly." I s (To be continued daily.)