THE BUNGALOW MYSTERY

Auckland Star, Volume LXVI, Issue 164, 13 July 1935, Page 12 (Supplement)

THE BUNGALOW MYSTERY

■y LEONARD R. GRIBBLE

CHAPTER IX. A Nocturnal Adventure,

Mr. Albert Huggins sat iu his dingy bed-sitting room, a worried look upon his face. A cigarette drooped from the corner of his mouth, and 011 the table, upon which his elbows rested, a pile of ash had collected. For the hundredth time since that afternoon he was asking himself the question that had brought the frown to his face. "What the 'ell can Tony Slade be doin' down 'ere 1" Mr. Huggins took a large silver watch from his waistcoat pocket and studied its face for a few seconds. Then he rose and picked up a shabby attache case. After lighting a fresh cigarette and standing for a while regarding the contents of the case he chose certain articles that he considered he might need. Donning his shiny overcoat, he disposed of these articles in its several pockets, which, strangely enough, were lined with stoutly stitched mackintosh. Finally 110 took from the attache case a pair of very supple black kid gloves, and then locked the case securely. Turning out the gas, he left the room, taking care to lock the door on the outside. Then he went downstairs and made his way into the kitchen, where a large woman was sitting darning a sock. She looked up at his tap on the door, and when he revealed himself evinced some surprise. "Goin' out at this time, on a night like this, Mr. Harris ?" For Mr. Huggins had been careful to take his room under another name; experience had taught him the value of adopting such a precaution. "Can't 'elp meself, ma'am. Got to see a chap at the gasworks about a night job. Glad of anyfink these days." With that he retreated, before she could add anything further. But his steps did not lead him in the direction of the gasworks, as he had led the worthy woman to believe. Instead lie made his way to a small all-night garage situated behind the imposing pile of the Budminster Congregational Church. Here he was recognised by a stunted individual with the sharp features of a ferret. "Ev'nin', Mr. Hammond. Come for your bike, I s'pose ?"• "That's right," said the muffled Huggins, who seemed ready to answer to any name but his own. "Is she filled up?" "To the brim," replied the Rmall, stunted man, with a wink, as lie moved off to change the ten-shilling note the other had handed him. Pocketing his change, Huggins kicked his motor cycle into motion, and drove off through the thin drizzle of rain. For some distance he kept to the back streets, until he was nearing the outskirts of the town. In a quiet backwater road he pulled up and took from a pocket a road-map of the district. He had pored over this map the best part of the time he had spent at his evening meal, and this last glance was just to make sure that he had the details right. A few minutes later he was out 011 the main road running west, which he followed for about a couple of miles before branching to the right at a crossroads. Another half a mile brought him to a two-fingered signpost, directing passersby to Stanmorton and West Head. Here Huggins turned his machine along the lane leading in the direction of West Head. He now proceeded at a slower rate, scanning both sides of the lane as lie proceeded. The rain had blown over, and above the sky was dark, with not a glimmer of a star; but in the east a faint vein of light showed where a moon was trying to break through the black banks of cloud drifting before the wind. At another sign-post he halted, to stare round in the darkness. He gave a low whistle, but, receiving no reply, moved on again. The sigi»-post had pointed down another lane, leading to the south, to a place called Dallow Rook.

He had proceeded about another quarter of a mile when suddenly a figure stepped into the lane from the cover of the hedge. The bright beam of the cycle's head-lamp showed that the figure's face was masked with a black silk handkerchief, drawn high up under the eyes. r "Huggins!" The motor cycle chugged to a • tandstill, and Huggins alighted. "Lummy, guv-nor, I thought I'd missed yer!" The dark figure gave a low chuckle. "You're on time, anyway. Better leave the bike against the gate." lie pointed to a gate on the other side of the lane. "Got your kit?" "Yes." "Well, one thing makes the job easier. There's no combination, and I've Rot the key." Huggins settled his machine carefully against the gate and switched off the acetylene lamp. "That makes the job as good as over, then. Who's got to be put out, guvnor?" "A policeman., There were two, but one left at ten o'clock. He oughtn't to give much trouble." Huggins whistled. "A copper—eh? Not so 'ealthy," he commented. The other laughed"You don't mean to say you're getting nervous of-the police—at your age!" Huggins shook his head soberly. "'Tain't on'y that, guv-nor, but while I was in the town this afternoon I saw a Yard man, Tony Slade." "Well?" queried the other sharply. Huggins shifted his feet. "I don't like Slade. 'E's the sort what don't miss much, an* a damn' bad 'un to be in queer wiv." The masked man was silent for a few minutes as they walked down the lane. "So you know Slade, do you ?" he inquired. "Know 'im!" exclaimed Huggins. "I 'ad ter shift five times after one job 'cos 'e got so warm, and 'e on'y missed pinchin' me 'cos I got nabbed fer somethin' else." "Well, Huggins, that settles it. You'll keep out of this unless I make a mess —see ? I wouldn't have asked you, but this is very important—" tf oh, don't tliink I'm tryin' to back out 'cos of Tony Slade, guv'nor. I'm 'ere ter 'elp you, an' that stands." "Yes, but listen, Huggins. I want to be fair to you. A woman was murdered at this place we're going to—" "Gaw' lummy! Murder—guv'nor ? 'Tain't 'ealthy!" "Murdered last night, Huggins, and that's why Slade is down here. Now, I've got to get something out of that safe —a great deal depends upon my "getting it, in fact. I'm going to do the job on my own. You've brought me the means of quietening the policeman on

(Author of "The Grand Modena Murder," "The Marsdeti Rubles," "Is This Revenge?" etc., etc.)

guard there. Well, as I've got the key, I can unlock the safe and take what 1 want. Then you can get back to Bud--7 minster, post something to-morrow morn--1 ing that I'll give you, and that's all 3 there is to it. You won't be ill the > place at all." f Huggins made no reply. -It seemed 1 simple enough —too simple, as a matter ' of fact, and, as the other had said, he t wouldn't bo putting his finger into this highly doubtful pie. So there shouldn't ' bo any risk. But, still, a woman murdered the night before! . . . No, decidedly j it was anything but healthy. , He reflected that he might have gone into the job without knowing anything ; about the murder. It was sporting of the • guv'nor, anyhow, to have told him. And, 1 besides, where would he, Albert Huggins, have been if— 5 "We cross this stile, Huggins." They traversed a couple of lields and f came out oil to another road. > "The place is about a hundred yards I down this road," said the masked man. . "It's called the Yellow Bungalow—but i forget that!" I A solitary light burned in the bungalow, casting its reflections from the casement window of the sitting room. ' The man in the mask caught Huggins' arm as they drew level with the gate that led to the front door. "Give me the bottle and the pad— ' and stand by this gate. Don't come ' unless I whistle." From Huggins' overcoat two of the articles he had taken from his attache ; case were removed. i "Only four drops," he cautioned, in a • whisper. ; Tho other nodded. Then lie opened ■ tho gato quietly and passed down the path on the other side, disappearing into j tho shadows. Tho masked man carefully made his way round to the window of tho sitting i room, taking every precaution against ' leaving any footprints in the mud at the sido of the gravel path. With his body 1 pressed back against the wall, he crept, ' inch by inch nearer to the side of the ; window. Tho curtains had not been 1 drawn, and, by craning his neck, he could - seo the uniformed figure of Constable • Lawton, sprawled in an armchair, his > nose burrowed into a book. Stretching ■ out a gloved hand, the masked man j tapped softly on the glass. At first ' the policeman did not hear. After a louder rap, however, he sat upright, staring suspiciously in tho direction from i which the sound had come. A third rap, and ho lumbered to his feet and moved toward the window. However, he paused on his way to pick up a service-able-looking truncheon from the table. His scowling face appeared at the window, and fumblingly he began to draw tho bolts. Before turning the key in tho lock he paused once more, peering out into the wet night. Then the key turned back. For a moment he waited, listening, but, hearing nothing further, boldly drew back the window and stepped outside. Tho next instant a shape had arisen beside him, and his neck was seized in a cruel grip, strangling any cry. The constable wriggled, bending his knees, but a soft, cold-feeling pad was pushed into his face, and the sickly, tingling smell of chloroform suddenly filled his head and he felt himself drifting away. He collapsed. With difficulty tho masked man managed to lift the heavy bulk of the policeman into the sitting room of the bungalow, where he placed the drugged man on the floor and proceeded to bind his limbs and gag him securely. Then, returning to the window and pulling it to, tho masked man made straight for tho modernist water colour hiding the wall safe. Taking it down and laying it on the settee, he drew a key from his pocket and fitted it into the safe door. A sharp click and the door swung back easily. With a quick sigh, that might have been of relief or satisfaction, the burglar plunged a gloved hand into the dark depths of the safe. For ton minutes he was engrossed in sorting bundles of letters. Above the black silk handkerchief masking his face two eyes glittered grimly. But his fingers were steady and performed their work swiftly and surely. At length he had the bundles assorted into tho groups ho required. Taking three stout nianila envelopes from a pocket of his overcoat, he placed Jhe letters inside, sealed them, and then, producing a fountain pen, wrote three names and addresses on them. Twenty minutes more ticked by as he moved from room to room prospecting, but at the end of that time he had not found anything else ho wished to take away. Returning to the sitting-room, where the trussed form of the constable lay like a log, he stooped over the man, thoughtfully loosened the collar of his tunic, and then crossed to the window. An instant later, after a last backward glance, he had disappeared into the night. lie came upon Huggins pacing a short length of the gravel path. The cockney eyed his return with pleasure in his glance. •The other patted his shoulder. "You've done all I wanted of you, < Huggins. Now listen. This is what I want you to do." ; For several minutes the other paid close attention to the masked man's directions. But at last he interrupted protestingly. "But I can't do that, guv'nor! Blimey, ! it ain't safe! Don't forget there's Tony ' Slade down 'ere. It was 'im that handled the Grand Modena case " "I'm afraid I wasn't in England ' then." ( "But you say lie's down 'ere about , that murder, an' you're wantin' to " j "Exactly!" 1 "It's playin' into 'is 'ands, guv'nor! ( It's dangerous! An' Tony Slade ain't the kind to miss anythin' stuck under 'is j nose. Gorblimey, I remember——" "You seem to have a considerable i respect for Mr Slade's performances, Huggins." i "Respect? So would you. guv'nor, if 1 yer knew 'is record. 'Im an' that thore i square-headed sergeant of 'is, they're I a damned 'ard team tor beat. 'Uman blood'ounds, that's what they are. What the one don't find out the other : smells out. An' don't forget Slade's srot a 'ole department of tlio cussed O.T.D. beind 'im—Department X2—what down in 'Oxton we calls the double-cross-ers " "Why?" Hi'orjrins laughed grimly. "X 2, yer see—a cross and two fer double, like: the double-crossers. An' a damned good riamo. too! Tonv Slade," sent my pal Worthv over the Aim by what yer might call double-crossin' 'im. Took 'im in proper like. Now, I'm tellin' yer, guv'nor, don't " Again the masked man held up a hand, j With a shrill Huggins desisted. "I know you mean the best, Huggins. \ I appreciate that, and thanks for giving j me this —er —information about Mr ,

Slade. It's welcome, and it'll help. But I'm going through with this thing—and in my own way. So just do what I say, and there'll be nothing to worry about. Now, let's " "Sh!" Hug-gins pressed the other's arm in a strong grip. "Someone comm. over there. L/isten, guv'nor." # * They waited, neither moving a muscle. Suddenly the masked man nodded, his eves very bright under the dark shadow r of his hat. Clearly now they could hear the sound ' of footsteps treading on gravel. \ CHAPTER X. j Back to the Yellow Bungalow. 1 After leaving the Blue Moon the three policemen made their way back to the 1 police station. It was nearly a quarter 5 1 to twelve when they entered through L the glass-panelled doors, above which a ; blue light burned. Strange and startling news awaited them. P.O. Sheldon had cycled out to the ! Yellow Bungalow soon after P.C. Swift I had returned and signed off duty, and upon arriving he had found the French ' window of the sitting room unlocked ' and inside the form of P.C. Lawton bound and gagged. The door of the I wall safe was swung back, and the safe was empty; and as far as Sheldon had > been able to make out his colleague had been drugged. He had not been success- ; ful in bringing him round. Sergeant Morne had been notified at once, and • ho and Dr. Threwe had hastened out to s the bungalow. They had been gone . about half an hour. Clay swore bitterly and turned to s Slade, whose face wore a worried frown. "Looks devilish like a bungle —on our " part, Slade." <( „ ■ The latter did not dispute the our, although the local inspector's arrange- ! incuts respecting the number of men 1 he left to guard the scene of the murder could hardiy be called his affair. "Certainly was a mistake not to have , had a couple of men there all the time," 1 he admitted, and glanced at Clinton, who was having trouble in concealing ' what he thought of these slapdash provincial methods. "But two men were to have been there," protested Clay, feeling suddenly called upon to defend his arrangement. "It just happened that Swift was doing some ex'tra time, and, well, who the devil would have thought forty minutes or so with only one man—" He broke off, fingering his moustache nervously. "Well, we'd better get out there as quick as we can," said Slade briskly. "At least this affair's left a loop-hole for more clues. The murderer's return to the scene of his crime, you know, Clay." At that the other's face lifted. "Yes, at least we've got another — What is it, Drew?" "Please, sir," said the constable who had approached, "Sergeant Morne is on the 'phono. They've found Mr. Dare in some bushes, bound and gagged. And Dr. Threwe says he's been drugged, too. Will you speak —" Clay was already making for the office, where Drew had taken the call. When lie returned his face had lost its brightness. "It's right!" he exclaimed. "Dare's l>een put out of commission by the same party, Slade. He must have gtjne down there to see— But perhaps he saw something was wrong. They may have turned the lights out or— No, that can't be it. Probably— No. Oh, damn it. this thing's getting into such a tangle I'm darned if I know what to think!" "Quite," said Slade. "We'd better keep our thoughts until we arrive there. We may come upon something that'll change 'em." Clay nodded disconsolately. "This affair to-night'll put mo in quepr with the chief, though—if we can't <;ct something out of it. That damned fool Lawton must have —" His opinion of what Lawton must have done and of the constable himself was rot altogether printable; but Slade was rather relieved to sec him letting off steam. The chance of his cooling down before they arrived at the bungalow was proportionately greater. Tt was twenty minutes past midnight when Ch'v's ear drew to a halt on the road that ran past the Yellow Bungalow. Drawn in to one side, under the hedge, was Dr. Threwe's small coupe, and leaning against the hedge was P.C. Sheldon's bicycle. "Try to walk where the others have walked," advised Slade when they had alighted from Clay's car. "Jnst in case there should be any other footprints." Clny nodded mutely, and they passed through the gate and proceeded down the gravel path. The lights blazing from the uncovered windows of the bungalow threw long, tortuous shadow shapes across the path. Under the trees the night was coolly damp; the wet leaves rustled dismally. Above the trees the night sky was keen with stars, and sound carried clearly. Suddenly a man's shadow filled the end of the path. It was Sergeant Morne. He sounded agitated. "Here's a pretty fix, sir," he began, addressing Clay. "The safe burgled, Lawton put out without knowing a tiling that happened, and now we've found Mr. Dare's been treated the same. 3 Dr. Threwe hasn't brought him round yet." From that moment Slade took charge ' of the proceedings. "Whose footmarks are those?" he ' asked as they halted before the open French' window. "Um—er—mine and the doctor's," Morne confessed sheepishly. Slade nodded significantly towards Clay, who glowered at his subordinate in expressive silence. "And where is the doctor, Morne?" "In the bedroom. He's got Mr. Dare on the bed —working on him now." Wiping his feet carefully—an example the others followed—Slade crossed the sitting room and entered the bedroom. Dr. Threwe was in his shirt sleeves, bending over the heavily breathing form of Martin Dare. "Has he been clubbed, doctor ?" asked the detective. Threwe paused in his work of applying artificial respiration. "Oh, it's you, Slade!" He bent to his work again. "No, doped—that's all. Like Lawton. I shouldn't ask him too much for a few minutes. He's feeling pretty sick." ° (Continued Saturday next.)