THE SECRET AGENT

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 130, 4 June 1935, Page 17

THE SECRET AGENT

► J.s. FLETCHER,

(Author of " Solution or a Mystery," "Murder at Wrlaes . i Park," "Who Killed Alfred Snowe?" etc.)

CHAPTER IV. Rain Stang. As I walked up the rough drive which led from the road to the> house a man, carrying a gun over his shoulder and having a retriever dog at his heels, came round the corner of a clump of young fir trees, and at sight of me stopped, shaking his head.

"Nobody living up there, sir," he remarked. "The house up." "So I understood," I replied. "But I just wanted to have a look at it. I suppose you know--all about it? Whose house is it?"

He came to a halt, evidently quite willing to talk. "Well, sir, it belongs now to a London gentleman, name of Mr. Charles Jtensie," he answered. "It did use to belong to his uncle, Mr. David Eeneie, but he died getting on to two years ago. Mr. Charles, ho's never lived here, though, to be sure, lie's been down here once or twice— seems like as if he couldn't make lip his mind what' he'd do about it —let it, or sell it, or live in it now or then, or what. It's furnished—left just as the old gentleman had it."

"Isn't there a caretaker in it?" I inquired.

He made a face at that, as if in deri sion.

"Aye, well, sir," he replied, "there s an old woman in the village is supposed to look after it and to keep it aired, and so on, but she's getting feeble, and not over-particular, and there's weeks, I should say, when she never comes near it. Deal of fine old stuff in it, too. Pity Mr. Charles can't make up his mind what to do with it. The shooting he has let."

"And I suppose you're the gamekeeper?" I suggested. "I am, sir; been here two years now," he rdplied. "Has the house a name?" I asked.

"Yes, sir. Rain Stang House is the name—-this run of hillside is called Rain .Stang. All along from here to he answered. "Fine bit of country, sir."

"Very fine," I agreed, and presently, leaving' him. went on to the house. It wus a long, low building of two storeys, of plain Architecture, and built of the grey stone of the district; there was an unkempt, dreary-looking garden round three sides of it. a few trees, chiefly pines; and Scots lirs. overshadowing its stone roof, and on its south side a sort of terrace, from which there was a magnificent" view of the valley stretching towards Pateley Bridge. I walked round the walls*in the hope of getting a peep in at the lower, windows, but in every room, even round to what I took to be the kitchens, heavy blinds and curtains were" drawn, and I could see nothing of-the interior. Suddenly, how-

ever, as I was about to turn away, I made a discovery. At the west end of the house there was a small conservatory. Glancing at its door, I saw that just above the handle and the lock a square of coloured glass had been removed—chipped out or deliberately broken out. On impulse I tried the handle. The door opened, and I walked into the conservatory and straight across its tiled floor to another door, which I knew must open into the house. A turn of its handle, and I found myself on the threshold of what was evidently the drawing room.

I had a police whistle in my pocket, and, going back to the door of the conservatory, I took it out and blew it. The superintendent of police, still busied about the gateway near which Mr. Esmore's dead body had been found, tAned sharply. I waved a hand to him, and he came hurrying up the hillaide and joined me. Telling him what I had discovered, I led him into the house; I told him, too, what the gamekeeper had said about the slackness of the old woman in whose care it had been left.

"Anyhow," I concluded, "anyone could have got in here. What I'd like to know is, has anybody been in lately? Anybody who .had no business to be in ?""

We went from room to room on the ground floor, opening shutters, drawing up blinds. In one room, a small apartment between drawing room and dining room, we made a discovery. That room was lined with books in fine old bindings; there were shelves full of them. And in one corner was a bureau, or cabinet; its folding doors were slightly open and we were both convinced that the loek had been forced. There were more books, old, evidently of.value, inside; there was also a shelf crowded With antiques. But whether anything had been taken from that cabinet we had no means then of knowing; what was certain was that it had been broken open, and in a rough fashion; the lock was split clean out of the woodwork. In the kitchen, too, we found something else—on the centre tkble were two tumblers, similar in size to a row which Htood in a delft-case close by, in which there were remains of what we felt sure had been whisky. And on, a saucer which lay close by there was the stump of a cigar. With a remark from the superintendent that all. this would have to bo looked into we went back to Barnett and the solicitor, and told them what we had seen; Bondle at once said that Mr. Charles Rensie ought to. -be communicated with, and suggested that we should get- his address from the caretaker and then send him a wire, asking him to come down at once.

We were thus engaged when a wire for me arrived from Chaney. It announced that he and Miss Esmore were leaving London by the 4.45 from King's Cross, and would arrive at Harrogate at 8.40. "We shall be back there before then," remarked Barnett when I showed him the telegram, "and Mrs. Barnett and I will meet them with you. and we'll take Miss Esmore home with us for the night, and for as long as she's obliged to stay here. I'm afraid she'll have to attend the inquest, won't she, Bondle ?"

"She will," replied Bondle. "She'll have to tell all about her uncle leaving town. But as to his identification, she can be spared that. Either you, Bar nett, or Waterdale can give the necessary evidence." We heard more about the inquest before we left Middlesmore that afternoon; the coroner himself came over, and after consultation with the police and ourselves decided to open his inquiry, at the village schoolroom, the next day, at four o'clock in the afternoon. "A merely formal opening," he remarked. " "Just the absolutely necessary evidence to begin with. We shan't get to anything startling, I think, to-morrow." But I was not at all sure about that. CHAPTER V. Inquest. Our party, reinforced by Mrs. Barnctt, an evidently kind-hearted, motherly sort of woman, duly met Miss Esmore and Chaney on their arrival at Harrogate that evening, and the jeweller and his wife promptly carried Miss Esmore off to their private house. Chaney and I put ourselves up at a convenient hotel, after ascertaining that we could get a train to Pateley Bridge early next morning, and during the remainder of the evening I posted him in the information I had gathered at Middlesmoo*

We were at Pateley Bridge by ten o'clock next morning, and on our own account (Chaney having been strictly charged by Miss Esmore to spare no pains and no expense in his endeavours to trace her uncle's murderers) we proceeded to make some inquiries in the little town before going on to Middlesmoor. We heard something that might have/ some bearing on the problems ••hicli we were trying to solve. Near the station, and at the foot of the road leading towards Greenhow Hill, and also close to the point where the valley road turned off to Middlesmoor, we found a garage at which cars might be deposited in an open yard. An attendant there, invited to draw on his stores of memory, remembered that —as near as he coiild recollect, to use his own w ords —a car in which two men were seated came down the road from Greenhow Hill about a quarter to six one evening nearly a fortnight before and pulled up in "the yard. They left the car in his charge, and went into a confectioner's shop close by. to get a cup of tea. But after that he knew nothing about them; they paid the garage fee on arriving, and as he was subsequently busied elsewhere he did not see them go away. All he knew was that they were strangers to that district; that one was a big man andi the other a

littlish one; that they were both young; and that the car was a fine, powerful affair, and of foreign make. We tried to get some more information about that car —but nearly two weeks had gone by, and nobody that we talked to remembered anything of car or men, not even the girl at the confectioner's shop where the men had gone for tea. She indeed, with true Yorkshire wit, told us plainly that we might as well ask her to remember what sort of weather it was the day she was born as recollect anything about chance customers —her business was to wait on folks, not to stare at 'em.

We engaged the services of a car and a chauffeur at the garage I have just mentioned, and went on to Middlesmoor, where I showed Chaney the place at which Mr. Esmore's dead body had been discovered, and the unoccupied house close by, the keys of which were now in the hands of the local police. After inspecting the interior Chaney walked outside and took a comprehensive view of the surrounding district of hill and valley.

The superintendent presently arriving, and being introduced to Chaney—with whom he Immediately began to exchange professional confidences —showed himself to be as puzzled as we were.

"This affair licks me," he said. "Since I was called in yesterday morning, right up to now, my men and I have put in all we know at attempting to trace this Mr. Esmore, and we haven't heard one word to help us! How did he come here? That's a licker! He couldn't walk all that way —at least, I shouldn't think it likely. And if he came by car we've no trace of that.

That road leading by Rain Stang House doeen't lead anywhere —at least, scarcely farther than that; it's a bad road for cars at any time, and as you can't get into it except through the village and round the corner of the poet office, it would be noticed 09 times out of a hundred if a car went on it. I'm coming to believe, Mr. Camiberwell," he went on, turning to me, "that the secret of all this reets in Rain Stang House. I'm afraid you're not the first person who's recently found a way in. But what should this Mr. Esmore know about Rain Stang House? We don't knowthat he'd any acquaintance with this neighbourhood."

"He'd been in Nidderdale with Mr. Waterdale, of Harrogate," I eaid. "Fishing."

"Oh, Nidderdale is a wide term!" replied the superintendent. "Fishing? Ah, might be anywhere between Lofthouse, down in the valley there, and Knaresborough, many iind many a mile away. Anyhow, I'm sure there's nobody in these parts had ever seen him before, and how he got up here, as he must have done —unless, of course, hie dead body was brought here—l can't think. I wonder if we shall get any news from London? I saw the London papers before leaving Pately Bridge—l've got some of them in my car, if you haven't seen them—and they have made a spread of the news. I see, too, that they've announced that the inquest is to be opened this afternoon. That may produce eome news. There must be soniebody somewhere who knows why the poor gentleman came here. Did his niece—Mr. Camberwcll told me about her —did she come with you last night, Mr. Chaney?"

"She did," replied Chaney, "and she'll be along here for the inquest."

"Does she —has she been able to remember any more?" asked the superintendent. "I mean anything further than what she told Mr. Camberwell?"

"She hasn't," said Chaney. "She knows nothing. But you're quite right in saying that there must be somebody somewhere who knows a lot. The thing is—who and where are they, or where and who is he—or she? This is one of those cases where —as far as I can see at present —there isn't even the ghost of a clue." The superintendent sighed. "Well, we'll hope for something to transpire at the inquest," he said. "The coroner wanted to cut to-day's proceedings very short —just identification, you know, so that the body could be interred —but I've persuaded him to hear a certain amount of evidence. Of course, there'll have to be an adjournment. Indefinite, no doubt. I suppose," he continued, "I suppose you and Mr. Camberwell will go on with your investigations 1"

"Our instructions," replied Chaney, "are to go on with our investigations until we've caught Mr. Esmore's murderer or murderers, and we shall 4 carry 'cm out. What I want to find out, to begin with, is why he was murdered."

With an interval of a little time for a hurried lunch Chaney and I spent our day in inquiries in and round Middles- \ moor. He failed to acquire one single scrap of information. Neither in the village itself, nor on the adjacent hillsides, nor in the valley below, could we hear anything that helped us. Finally we gave up tramping round and questioning people who obviously knew nothing at all, and ; turned to the schoolroom, where the coroner, his officials, and his jurymen were assembling. By that time Middlesmoor was as busy as if a fair had been in session. Curiositymongers had flocked in all day from the neighbouring towns and villages, and the police had difficulty in keeping them out of the small room in which the coroner set up his court. When he and his jury had assembled, together with the necessary officials and certain witnesses, there was very little space left for the public; outside the schoolroom the road and the little village square remained densely crowded. During the proceedings which followed I took notes of the evidence for the future use of Chaney and myself, and I reproduce them. here in condensed form. They servo to show how the inquiry shaped itself before the jury. The coroner himself, in opening tlie proceedings, made reference to the difficulties of the case. Here was a dead man, presumably murdered at their very doors. His identity had been established—would be formally established before them. But no ene knew how he came'to Middlesmoor, or when, or why. No one had seen him there alive; nor had anyone seen in the neighbourhood any strangers who might possibly have murdered him. Great publicity, however, had already been given to the affair, and he was in hopes that some new evidence might be brought ior-ward-not then, perhaps, but eventually All they could do that afternoon «ae to carry the inquiry through a pieiim nary stage. , (To be continued daily-).