VAN WYCK MASON'S The CASTLE ISLAND CASE with CANDID CAMERA CLUES

Auckland Star, Volume LXX, Issue 90, 18 April 1939, Page 17

VAN WYCK MASON'S The CASTLE ISLAND CASE with CANDID CAMERA CLUES

Clip the Camera Clues,

CHAPTER XX. Thanks to a gift, acquired many years before, Roger Allenby was able to wake himself around eeven and change the dressing on a forehead which felt sore but which wae badly swollen. After first removing from the floor all traces of his blood, he employed rough mathematics to estimate the bullet's course and was able to deduce that the sniper had fired from a slope opposite Freebooter's Hall and slightly to the left of his window. Lips set, lie arranged a small picture over the bullet hole and descended into the garden's perfumed freshness. As he searched, he thought of Barney. A hard case, Barne3 r Grafton, for all his bluff heartiness, else how could he appear smiling among his guests with so crushing a burden on his conscience? In all probability he was sleeping quite soundly—in the' fashion of truly ruthless men. Odd, though, how fond he was of Gail and little Peter, his stepson. Bending low, Allenby commenced to search the ground and before long found the place from whence the shot had been fired. Concealed under the lower leaves of a morning glory vine climbing the trunk of a fidelwood in a riot of blue tones, he discovered a small braes cylinder, that of a .22 magnum rifle. As if to mark the sniper's ambush beyond question an African daisy lay clearly outlined against an outcrop and fresh after the cool of the night. No others grew near. Very carefully Roger Allenby picked up the blossom. Grim satisfaction filled him. Perhaps this case wasn't going to be so tough. All that remained was to find out who owned the rifle and then ask Grafton to explain Judy'e curt message on the cards. Had Creepy's weapon been highpowered or had it not? With this in mind he sought the rear of Freebooter's Hall. Here a negro gardener was humming softly as he weeded the kitchen garden. "I was looking for Creep} , ," Allenby said. "Dunno vhere he is, sir. He might be down by de boathouse. Dat's vhere he lives." "How did he make out with the rats last night?" ' "Pretty good, sir. Knocked off three of de ugly pests. He' 3 mighty fine shot, is Creepy. Dat's de Indian in him." "Where was he shooting?" "Right over dere, sir." The gardener indicated with a spatulate forefinger. "Yonder, by de hen house by de ol' slave quarters. Dere's a whole lot of holes 'round dere." It required a comparatively short time for Roger Allenby to ascertain what he wanted and soon he was hurrying back to the living-room, the richer by one bullet dug from the henhouse's coral wall. "Morning, Major," Ward greeted him in the hall. "You're up early." When he noticed the bandage he started. "Good Lord, what's happened to you?" CLIP FOR CLUES! "THE CASTLE ISLAND CASE" presents th* first fictional detective triumph for the candid camera. Important olues to the solution of the mysteries concerned in this novel are contained in certain of the test illustrations. It is suggested that the reader clip eaoh of the Instalments or, at least, the photographs illustrating the same. A careful -study of the pictures should lead to the solution of the story's crime problems even before tnst astute detective, Major Roger Allenby, deans up the case.

Allenby managed a convincing shamefaced grin. "Clumsy bit of work. Slipped getting out of the bathtub and whanged my head against the wash The waeh basin won." "Looks like it," Ward sympathised. "Most bathrooms are regular mantraps. Fellow I knew in China was a pilot in the war, knocked off eleven Boches and one bright day he slipped like you must have—broke hie neck in a flash." "What kind of a break was it!" "Oh, a simple fracture of the Atlas vertebra." "Sounds very unpleasant. Is Grafton up. yet ?" "If he ie, I haven't heard a peep out of him." Ward stepped closer and inquired in an undertone. - "What do 3'ou make of Terry James?" "Don't know." Allenby was deceptively curious. "What do you mean?" ; "He's supposed to figure in our deal an a small way—but even so I don't want anyone around who isn't on the

level." Ward paused, frowning on the amber ehowerbath of sunlight beating in from a nearby window. "I saw him uome in last night pretty late." •'Did you?" "Yes. He'd been talking and quarrelling with Barbara, his sister, where I couldn't help hearing them. Sounded as if the row was over money." "Then Terry isn't as well off as his sister?" Ward's teeth glistened to his rather boyieh smile. '"Not by a long shot! The James' inherited plenty of blue Mood, but very few yellow dollars. Barbara got her money through Winslow. her first husband. He was killed in an auto smash just a little while after Peter was born —so Barney tells me. Remarkable woman, Barbara," Ward mused, peering out on the placid water* of Castle Harbour. ''She's one of those people who are so goody-goody that it hurts. Means all right, like the kid who loaded his father's gun on the Q.T. 1 say, have you noticed the cold shoulder she's got for young Gibbonst" "Why, yes," Allenby admitted, "What seems to be the trouble?" "I can tell you," the other said with sudden bitterness in his tone. "She doesn't want a plain, self-made man in the family—only Codfish aristocracy. Just because young Gibbons has come up from scratch, she—well—she can't see him for dust. I'm crazy over Gail myself," he admitted in a sudden burst of confidence, "but I wouldn't mind losing out to a real guy like young Gibbons. I know what it ia to start from nothing and kick the world in the pants until it gives you what you want." "How does Gail feel about it?" "She's a queer kid; doesn't open up much —at least not to me," Ward confessed. "Take a look at that mouth of hers.; it gets a pretty hard expression sometimes. I don't think she particularly relishes her stepmother's butting in, telling her who is eligible and who isn't." . "Then why doesn't Gail tell Mre. Grafton to run along and roll her hoop?" "Can't," Ward grunted. "Ever notice, Major, that money's pretty important in this life? Gail knows Barney's up to his ears in this Rio Loja deal and—" "Hi, there, Buck!" From the top of the steps, Gail waved them a gay greeting. "Come in and have some breakfast. We'll let the slowpokes show up ae they please." When Allenby stepped into sight she paled and her hand flew up to touch a little cedarwood brooch at the throat of her dress. "Oh, Major, wha—what's happened 1"

by HENRY CLAY CIPSON

Resigned to repeating his fabrication many times, Allenby offered the bathtub explanation, then dismissed the subject ■as quickly as he might. But was it natural for Gail to go so deathly white over a patch of court-plaster? An impressionable girl might, but still—

In the distance a motor boat'e exhaust was muttering louder and louder. Frowning, Allenby glanced at his watch. Could this be Inspector Boyd already? It was only half-past eight.

Gail, following his look, smiled. "Oh, that'll be Creepy bringing over the mail. He didn't go over last night. The Dart needed overhauling."

Ward was obviously hungry. "Come on," he pleaded. "My stomach's 'phoning up to see if my throat's cut. I could i'at my weight in wheat cakes."

By executing a quiet retreat into the library, Allenby was strategically located to inspect the mail when it tirst was brought in from the servants' wing.

Half expecting some communication from Bailey of the Inter-Ocean and not wishing such a letterhead to be noted, he resigned himself to patience. Once a neat mulatto maid had brought in n pile of mail and then retreated. Allenby got a bad jolt. There serenely reposing amongst a mound of letters lay a small package.

■ In open-mouth astonishment he gaped, then, on learning that the package bore local postage, the elaborate structure his imagination had reared crashed down about his ears. Almost savagely he pocketed the little parcel ere he went into breakfast and endured as best he might the curiosity and sympathy of his fellow guests. Cora Sue alone remained undisturbed. "Oh, Major, you look like the hero of a Civil War romance. That bandage gives you just the right touch." She leaned far over the table. "You don't need a nurse, do you?" "I certainly do need a nurse—or maybe it'e a keeper," Allenby growled. On running his eyes around the breakfast table he found two faces particularly interesting. Barney Grafton seemed nervous and was attempting a jovial air without noticeable success. As for Barbara Grafton, her eyes were so dull and heavy and her mouth set in such a drawn line it seemed as if she could have slept very little. (To be continued daily.)