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"CAIN"

by JOHN MORRISfe

CHAPTER V..— (Continued). Denvers did not apeak. Now he knew that the girl was concealing something. What had she to conceal? He knew that until ‘Cain’ came to Luther Banke’s shop the girl had never set eyes on the man. How had he gained so much influence 6ver her —and so quickly? “You think that I sympathise with

. . .‘Cain’?'’ The girl spoke again. ■■l do, I .1 think that there is good in him. Perhaps,. . -he has been unjustly hounded by the law. Who knows? I do not. I do not know his history—only his name. “Is ‘Cain’ his name?” “Why ask me?” The girl rose abruptly from her chair. “It may be—that he is adptly named. ‘Cain’wlth every man’s hand against him! ‘Cain’—with the mark of those "setapart’ on his forehead. ‘Cain who suffered . . ”

“‘Cain’, the murderer!” Denvers interrupted, quickly. “Have you any sympathy for a murderer, Mias Tayue?” Again the girl held silence. She turned and went to the barred windows, looking out over the sidestreet. Presently she swung round to face the man.

“Sometimes I think I understand.’ Almost she waa speaking to herself. "He calls himself ‘Cain.’ For what reason? There is no bloodguilt on his brow —he told me that. Then, why ‘Cain’, set-apart from his fellows —a solitary man, with every other man’s hand upraised against him. Is that the reason, I wonder?”

Her words went straight to the heart of the ex-detective. They pierced through the armor of conventionality he had striven to cloak around him since the moment he had sat in the Commisioner’s office, writing his resignation. They drew to life again the words Sir Edmund had used; . . . .that on the roll of this world will' appear James Frost, a crook, a denizen of this city’s underworld . - •” Himself, the man!

■ For the moment he felt an urge to tell the girl alb—of the interview he had had with the Commissioner for Police that morning; of his resignation from the police department; of his coming descent into the underworld of that city. He stiffened. That secret he had to keep. No one but Sir Edmund must know that he was acting a part; that he was descending into the morass of sin to spy; to betray! : “Miss Tayne.” Neither of them had noticed the inner door open and Luther Banke enter the room. “Have you that letter from the Goldsmiths’ Jewellery Company? I don’t think we answered that inquiry concerning the pink pearls.” “You answered that late last night, Mr Banke.” Martha was again the efficient, deft secretary. “I oent the letter to the post this morning.” She turned to the open filing cabinet; her quick fingers searching the papers, rapidly. Withdrawing a coloured sheet of, paper from the file she held it out to her employer. Luther Banke read the letter slowly, a puzzled frown cm his face. Denvers studied him, meanwhile. The jeweller was nervous. Denvers noticed that hie hand, holding the letter, shook. He glanced at I the bearded face, the hair slightly! tinged with grey. The beard was Close-cropped; coming to a short point under the chin. He saw that the eyes were lined and weary—and as he watched two deep furrows appeared on the lined brow. “Where did you get this letter, Miss Tayne?” Luther Banke stroked his forehead, wearily. “I never dictated this.”

“What do you mean, Mr Banke.” Denvers took a quick step forward. “Miss Tayne stales that she took dictation of that letter late last night, and posted it early this morning. Did. you not see that letter after it was typed?” “Mr Banke forgets.” There Was much sympathy in the girl’s voice. “You must remember, Mr . . .Inspector Denvers, that he is not at all well.”

“But . ..Mr Luther Banke dictated that letter. You are quite sure of that?” The ex-detective spoke eagerly.

“Mr Luther Banke came back Horn the street, last night, specially to dictate that letter to me.” Martha spoke,evenly. “I was clearing up, preparing to go home. He said that he must answer the Goldsmiths’ Jewellery Company’s letter before he left in case he was detained at home this morning. I took the dictation from him. He said that I could type the letter immediately I came this morning and . . .and that if he did not come in by ten o’clock I ‘ was to sign it and post it by the first mail.” “You typed the letter this morning?” “Yes.” “And placed it and the copy on Mr Luther Banke’s desk.”

“Yes.” ' ■' ' “What time did Mr Luther Banke arrive here this morning?”

“Quite early. A little after I did —and I was here punctually at ninethirty.” “I did not leave home until a quarter to ten.” The jeweller spoke with keen anxiety.

“Did you dictate this letter?” Denvers swung round on the man, abruptly. “No.” The word was firmly spoken; yet there was hesitancy in Luther Banke’s manner.

“What time did you leave here last night?”, “A few minutes to six.” The ex-detective looked at the girl. She nodded. “Mr Luther Banke went from his office at five minutes to six. I followed him into the shop. He was there, talking to the shop-manager, for some minutes then went through the Five minutes later he returned and called me into his private office—-to dictate the letter to me.” The girl’s reply was decisive. “My car was at the door. I entered it and my man drove me directly home. I never returned to the shop, or my room.”

Denvers looked from the girl to the man, iu' amazement. He could feel that man and girl were telling the absolute truth, as they knew it.

Then, who had come to that office a few minutes after Luther Banke had left it for the night—disguised as Luther Banke?” CHAPTER VI. The man now named ‘Jimmie Frost,’ later of Sing Sing prison and more remotely, of Melbourne, Australia, stared down from the windows of the ‘American’ flat he now occupied. Almost a.t his feet lay the panorama of the largest city in the southern hemisphere. For three days—since he had come to those rooms as occupant, he had not been outside the door. Almost he ‘ feared the streets. Had he so altered that he could brave detection—in a city where he was so well known? He turned sharply on his heek and went to the fly-blown glass over the side-board, examining each feature, critically. The room was scattered with newspapers. His two occupations during his tenancy had been to destroy his former identity and to search the news-columns. For what? News of ‘Cain’? He smiled grimly, as thoughts of the crook flashed across his brain. ‘Cain’! The man against whom every hand was raised!

Martha Tayne, the girl in the jeweller’s office, had used that phrase. Where had she obtained it? From ‘Cain’ himeelf? There was scarcely a doubt as to that. ‘Cain’ had thus explained his strange alias to the girl. She had accepted it, glorifying it .... and had allowed the phrase to cast a glamor about the man, himself. Was Martha Tayne in love with ‘Cain’? Jimmie Frost, the man who once had been Mark Denvers, de-tective-inspector of police pondered the'»question. That might be sq. If, then . . .Would that fact complicate his problem?

Again /he turned abruptly from the window, passing into the minature kitchenette of his flat. Behind the sink was another window. He thrust it open; looking down the light-well. Two storeys djown, on the opposite wall was a window. That window lighted Martha Tayne’s kitchenette.

Was that the reason he had come to that building? His own, involuntary shrug answered the question.. He knew . . .he believed . . .that where Martha Tayne was there, sooner or later, he would find some trail that would lead him to the mystery crook, ‘Cain’. For three days he had been in that building—watching: yet wary that he, himself, should not been seen. He was not yet ready to face people; his disguise was not yet perfect. Now, only two more days and he would be free to come and go as he chose. So had declared the old Hindoo fakir to whom he haid gone when he left Luther Banke’s office, demanding to be altered in face and form. Five days, the old man had required, declaring that; at the .end of that period he would be unrecognisable—unless that infallible Bertillon measurements were applied; unles his fingerprints were known and compared. Unknown and unrecognisable, even among his old police comrades!

i' Five days of inaction: except for ) the applications of the stains and rank-smelling oils; except for the continued re-adjustments of the strangely-shaped appliances the old Hindoo had proveded. Three of those lays had passed and more and more frequently he viewed the mirror, facinated at sight of the strange personage growing out of his old identity. For three days , ungents, oils, torturing surgical appliances—and‘‘continued watch on Martha Tayne’s flat—had been his portion. Two more days . V .and he would again be free! Free! He laughed at the thought. Free! Would he ever again he free? Impatiently he strode to the table a.nd picked up a thin manuscript book, filled with close, minute writing. Here was the complement of his disguise—the life and Works of James Frost, International crook! Two more days and he would cast that, book ipto the Are; his disguise complete, mentally and physically. Sir Edmund Morgan, Commissions for Police, had sent that book to him. The writing on the pages was his. From where had he obtained the facte—for facts only, the book contained? The record was complete —every detail in place; almost every day, every hour, accounted for, except . . .the inglorious climax, played within the old grey walls “up the river” from New York. Jimmie Frost still lived! Mark Denvers was dead. Insistently, the man beat that fact into his brain. He had to forget the man who had once been inspector-detective. He dared not remember him; the life lit} had led; the ambitions he had held! Impatiently, he picked up the newspapers, glacing causally down the columns. A sharp exclamation escaped his lips. "Cain” had beefr at work again!

For long moments Jimmie Frost stared down at the print. This time the Southern Shires Bank had been the victim. From under the eyes of the assistant manager a bundle of negotiable securities had been tak-

The crime bore the diall-mark of the super-crook. ‘Cain’ had hardly troubled to conceal his tracks. He had -walked into the bank during the busiest hour of the day, receiving and acknowledging the salute of the door commissionaire: posing as an old and valued customer. At the desk he had demanded an immediate interview with the assistant manager —and all doors were opened before him. In the ’nner office, he had asked for certain securities in the charge of the. bank. They had been immediately produced—and ‘Cain’ had almost negligently, signed the receipt for them using the name of (To be continued).

Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/BOPT19330223.2.30

Bibliographic details

Bay of Plenty Times, Volume LX, Issue 11048, 23 February 1933, Page 4

Word Count
1,833

"CAIN" Bay of Plenty Times, Volume LX, Issue 11048, 23 February 1933, Page 4

"CAIN" Bay of Plenty Times, Volume LX, Issue 11048, 23 February 1933, Page 4

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