THE SECRET AGENT

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 129, 3 June 1935, Page 15

THE SECRET AGENT

By J.S. FLETCHER,

(Author of " Solution or a Mystery," "Murder at Wrldes Park," "Who Killecr Alfred Snowe?" etc.)

CHAPTER 111. The Lonely Hills. I think Mr. Barnett saw the staring capitals of the placard as soon as I did; anyway, it was he who snatched a paper out of the boy's hand. Within a second he was pointing me to a space in the left : hand corner of the front page, headed "Stop Press." In this space a few lines appeared, impressed by a rubber stamp in red ink. Together we read them. "Pateley Bridge police were notified this morning of discovery of dead body of well-dressed, elderly gentleman at lonely spot on hills beyond Middlesmoor. Appearances suggest murder. Nothing found on body that establishes identity." Instinctively we turned on each other with questioning looks. But Barnett spoke—and with an accent of conviction. "Camberwell—as sure as Fate that's poor old Esmore!" he exclaimed. "You see ? 'Well-dressed, elderly'—Esmore, without a doubt! Your search is going to come to a quick and rfiiexpected end." , "I must- get to this place at once," I said. "Middlesmoor? Is that—" "That's in the wilds, beyond Pateley Bridge, at the farther end of Nidderdale," he ariswered. "Yes, you must get there. And I must go with you — you can't identify Esmore, as you've never seen him. I can, of course. Come back to my place, and I'll send for my car, and we'll drive over there." We turned into the shop, which we had approached as we talked, and Barnett immediately became busy at the telephone in his private office. "And I'll tell you what it is, Camberwell," he said. "We'll take a solicitor with us—my solicitor, Bondle. A solicitor is always useful in these matters —he can do things that a layman can't do, and he thinks of things that a layman wouldn't think of. And Dick Bondle is a very smart chap. We'll call for him as we set off." "It's very good of you to take all this trouble," I said. The car was at the shop door —a big, powerful saloon, with a smart chauffeur at the wheel. "I'll let my man drive us," remarked Barnett. "He may copie in useful when we get there. Charlie," he went on, turning to the chauffeur, "stop at Mr. Bondle's office." We went round a corner or two and pulled up at the entrance to a new building given up to bank premises and offices. Barnett got out and disappeared. But within a few minutes he was back with a sharp-featured, alert-eyed man of possibly 35, whom he introduced briefly as Mr. Richard Bondle, and bundled into the car. A word of direction to the chauffeur and he joined the solicitor and myself. Within half an hour of picking up Bondle in Harrogate we had slid down a hill steep as a precipice and were in the main street of a little grey-walled town; that spread up the hillside from the banks of a winding river. We all got out of the car and went into the police station. The official in charge, of course, knew Bondle, and was ready to give us all the information he had. But he had little. His superintendent, he said, and some other officers were over at Middlesmoor in connection with the affair; they'd been there since early that morning, and until they returned he knew no details. "All that I know, Mr. Bondle," lie went on, "is just this. We were rung up this morning about eight o'clock by the police constable at Middlesmoor. He said that a man, coming over the hillside from Angram way, had found a dead body by the roadside ——" "The roadside?" exclaimed Bondle.

"So he said, Mr. Bondle—by the roadside, a bit above Middlesmoor. ■ And it was a gentleman's body, by the look of it—well-dressed, and so on. So the superintendent went oft" at once, with a couple of our men, in his car, and I haven't heard anything since. I thought they'd have been ba'ek before now, but I expect there's a good deal to do." "Murder's mentioned in the paper," remarked Bondle. "Do you know anything about that?" "Oh, well, yes —the Ttfiddlesmoor policeman said the man had been shot —yes, we did hear that much, Mr. Bondle. But that was all."

We left the police station and reentered Barnett's car; Barnett told his chauffeur to go on to Middlesmoor. It was easy to see that things were happening in this out-of-the-way place. Men stood about in groups, talking; women were at the cottage doors. And in front of the inn were some men in uniform; one, recognising Bondle as wo got out of the car, came forward, giving the solicitor a questioning look. "You've heard what's happened here, then, Mr. Bondle?" he asked as he came upf "Perhaps you've some information for us?"

"I've this much'information for you, superintendent," said Bondle. "We've lieard —from a stop-press, edition of the paper—that a welf-dressed, elderly gentleman has been found dead near here, and'that there's some evidence to suggest that he's been murdered. Now, this gentleman, Mr. Camberwell, of the. famous firm of private inquiry agents, Camberwell and Chaney, came down from London during the night to make inquiries in Harrogate about a London gentleman, Mr. Max Esmore, who's been missing for ten or eleven days, and who is known to have come to this district— to Pateley Bridge, at any rate. Mr. Barnett here, whom you probably know, knows that Mr. Esmore left Harrogate for Pateley • Bridge by the evening train on Thursday, September 25. Since then nothing whatever has been lieard of Mr. Esmore. Now, having regard to this, we think that Jhe dead man may be Mr. Esmore." "That can soon be settled, Mr. Bondle." said the superintendent. "The body is close by. Come this way, gentlemen." It. required but one sharp glance from Barnett to enable him to give a positive reply to the superintendent's question. "Yes!" he said. "This is Max Esmore. Yes . . ." We went outside again. For,a moment there was silence. Then Bondle spoke. "Who found the body, and how?" "A man coming across the hillside early this morning found him," answered the "superintendent. "To be exact, the man's dog. found the body. It was in a ditch by the roadside—l'll take you to the place presently. When I got here I had the body removed, and it's been seen by two medical men. It's a case Off murder; Mr. Bondle. I'm certain of that! The poor gentleman had. been shot through the behind—the murderer must have placed the barrel of the revolver or. automatic pistol close to the base of the skull—a cold-blooded murder! And so far I see no clue—l've made a lot of inquiries in the village here, and nobody knows anything of

the dead man. He's never been seen here." He turned to me. "Have you any idea as to what brought him to these parts, Mr. Camberwell?" he asked. ~ ,-, V. "None!" I answered. "Mr. Bondle has already told you everything that I know." , . "Do you know anything about ins family?" inquired the superintendent. "Now that he's been identified " "I believe that his only relation is his niece, who employed me to search for him, and I must at once let her know what has happened," I replied. "I'll get my partner to break the news to her. Can one wire from here?" The superintendent pointed to the village post office, which was at a little shop close to the inn, and I hurried in there and sent a long wire to Chaney, asking him to see Miss Esmore at once. Knowing that she would leave for Middlesmoor immediately, I begged him to come down with her, and gave him some instructions, and, this done, I rejoined the others, who were waiting for me bv Barnett's car. "I'll take you to see the place where he was found," said the superintendent. "But it's a rough road. Do you .mind putting your car on it, Mr. Barnett? We can walk, if you like —it's a bit over a mile." But Barnett did not mind, and the car turned the coiner of the post office and went forward over a road which was certainly not intended for highgrado motor vehicles. The country became wilder and more solitary— widespreading, lonely moors and high, frowning hills—more and more I wondered what could have brought Mr. Max Esmore to these deserts? Then suddenly the superintendent, signalled a stop, and we halted at a sharp twist of the road, where there was a gateway in the rough stone wall. By this stood a solitary policeman; a little way off a couple of shepherds, their dogs in attendance, leaned against the opposite wall and watched us curiously. "I left a man here to look after the exact spot," remarked the superintendent, "because I want to examine it more thoroughly. Now, you see that all along the foot of this wall there's a ditch, very old and neglected, and overgrown with bramble and bracken. Well" here's the place where the body lay—close by this gate. It was completely hidden—you had to part the bracken to see it." We looked at the place indicated. But the mere place was —nothing. The thing was, what was Mr. Esmore doing there? The village was now out of sight, and on every side of us there were great, gaunt, silent hillsides, with not a human habitation to be seen. Stay! There was one, and close by, too. From the gateway in the wall by which our car had pulled up a track led up the moor to a house —one of some size, fashioned of the grey stone of the district, and standing on a plateau flanked by half a dozen Scotch firs. I pointed to it. "Who lives there?" I asked. "It's empty, Mr. Camberwell," replied the superintendent. "They tell me that it's been unoccupied for a year or two. It was a shooting-box, belonging to a London gentleman, but he died, and since then it's never been lived in. It's still furnished, I understand." I went a few yards up the track, starin-» at the house. Unoccupied? But Still furnished? That was enough to engage my curiosity. Leaving tne others behind, I went forward. (To be continued daily.)