THE HUNTSMAN

Bay of Plenty Times, Volume LXX, Issue 13670, 18 June 1942, Page 7

THE HUNTSMAN

J j ..sT() rK!>( '' i '" i ' ■r 1 dd came pomFrouMy 4 :t. and. after a 1« s ■ . tapped »u t“C -M bis bredtn. J distant Commissioner s vl ‘..Tried voice quipped a Ff .;,„e in!" an(l tn, ‘ ,)1H 1 :• candle and entered. f Blair raised a sleek, a-cj ‘ peeled Him across the • ? ; ( j (jC j £t at which he work- . j -v3 superintendant,” he j : ■ jwards a clmii in ii ont i. f ’'■'‘..Via sending you iaio the 1. J . man squeezed his large v .; 1P easy-cliair with dilu- | .j waited, his sleepy eyes k f for liis superior to cont j W w remember that epidemic of 1 Hampshire last year?” s I.'The Assistant Commissioner, f | f dance at the papers before r a - V.. Bn dd nodded slowly. He was VIV to forget them easily, for 1 L one occasion on which he had j eshown to advantage. ! V-okin’-foot, sir,” he said. ; - :at - s the fellow!” Colonel Blair his head sharply in agreement, is : broke into a dozen houses in . . •jail three months, and was . 7- caught. You fell down badly i iat" r 'v stout superintendant felt the , rising to his cheeks, but said i He had been severely re- : leaded at the time for his failure, i pie memory still rankled. . fa eiving you a chance to re- , your reputation,” continued :Assistant Commissioner. “The •V i constable of Southshire has , ; for our assistance in connecrd'h a number of burglaries that - uken place recently in the dis- |:!, and it looks to me as if this M:efellow is operating again.” ’ That’s your reason for supposin’ sir?” asked Mr Eudd. 3 For one thing, the modus-oper-is similar,” replied Blair. ‘‘ln “ 7 instance access was gained to I’burgled house by means of a istd-floor window, from which a I 'ioiof the glass had been cut out | r the catch. To prevent the glass | nras removed dropping, a piece |i Kwspaper, smeared with thick | ® vas used instead of the usual | or treacle.” That sounds like Stokin’-foot,” [| 1 tie big man. ‘‘He used the | smeans in Hampshire.” SORE IMPORTANT REASON I T other, and more important, an. said the Assistant Commis“is that in two cases portions ’• woollen stocking was discovTon the scene of the robbery, |l at Tas one °f the charasterisHampshire burglaries last : certainly looks as if it were the 1! fellow,” murmed Mr Budd i%. •2 pretty sure of it,” said his su•r - And since the Southshire Have asked for assistance, I’m you along. But you've got good this time.” hi do my best, sire,” said Mr loa 'egot to do more than that,” ,'T Colonel Blair, a little unreaYou’ve got to And this ■f robber, and I'm warning you I acce Pt any excuses for failhe flicked open some type-J'-j-sheets in a folder on his blotjf found the one he sought, r at it. - /‘The latest robL T “the last of a series I - curing the past ten weeks, oc-|-7 n 'Sht before last. Sir iL Chalebury’s house, Chalets, ° Urt W as broken into and a j -„’ a^ e umount of gold plate porting trophies were stolen. I . nlehury, and if I’m not very Mistaken, it was he who in- , the local people should ?he Yard.” I 'hGEONED TO DEATH ‘ialebnv-n-»» Wl r ' rnurnillre d Mr Budd. *kere a murder at a place ale hury_a few nights ago?” ( ‘ '" lst ant Commissioner nodV h p q ue answered. “A fellow fid , e ° r ® e tickling was blud- ( 0 j ° ea th. There was some 5 5( j a shost being responsible.” 2n m P a tient gesture. ‘‘l ■•} ijji P ° Se it s got anything to do tjj n , affair - There’s been nothat 1S P revaous ex Ploits to sugi fellow, Stocking-foot, ?d olln er ‘. However, if there is ec tion it’s up to you to find

(By Gerald Verner)

His tone conveyed that the interview was ended, and extricating himself from the chair. Mr Budd stood up. “I’ll get Stocking-foot this time, sir.” he said. “Y’ou’d better,” said the Assistant Commissioner briefly. The melancholy Sergeant Leek was engaged in the unprofitable task of gloomily pulling to. pieces a lump of fluff which he had found in one of the pockets of his ancient suit when the stout superintendant returned to his own cheerless office. “What did old Blair want?” he asked, as the big man came in. Air Budd eyed him severely. ‘‘That’s a nice way to speak of the Assistant Commissioner,” he said. “ ‘Old Blair!’ I suppose you’ll be callin’ ’im ’Arry next!” ‘‘ls that his name?” asked Leek. “I thought it was Jim.” “It’s usual to refer to him as Colonel Blair,” said his superior admonishingly. “You might remember chat. And officers with, the rank of superintendant like to be addressed as ‘sir’ occasionally. You might remember that, too. The lanky sergeant sighed. Once Air Budd got started on the subject of the respect due to a superior officer there was no stopping him. “T'ott'd better start gettin’ the habit,” went on Mr Budd, “because we’re going’ to the huntin’, shootin’, and fish.in’ district, where (they’re great sticklers for respect—s’long as it comes from the other fellow.” “We are?” said the startled Leek. “When?” “Just as soon as we can pack a bag and catch a train,” answered the big man, lighting one of his evil smelling cigars. “YVTiat for?” demanded the sergeant. “To chase foxes!” snarled his companion irritably. “Don’t ask so many questions. Find out when the next train leaves for Chalebury, and he ready to catch it.” The next train left in an hour and a half, and Air Budd arranged to meet the lugubrious Leek at the station. There was no sign of the lean sergeant when he arrived on the platform, and he was walking ponderously along the length, of the train, searching for him, when a cheery voice called his name, and he turned to look with disfavour at the pleas-ant-faced man who was approaching him with a broad grin. “Hallo!” cried this individual boisterously, slapping him on the back. “What are you doing here? Preparing to visit the ancestral home for the week-end?” “Don’t do that!” gasped Mr Budd, coughing voilently. “You ought to know better than to play fool tricks like that, Weston,”. GOOD GHOST STORY Tommy Weston, crime reporter on the Morning Wire, took his arm affectionately. “Sorry!” he said, though, there was no regret in his twinkling eyes. “Are you travelling by this train?” “Supposin’ I am. what’s it got to do with you?” grunted Air Budd offensively. “That means you are!” retorted the reporter. “That’s fine! So am I.” “Oh, you are, are you?” muttered Air Budd. “Why are you going to Southshire?” “Because my news editor's come all over psychic.” replied Tommy. “He thinks a good ghost story will send up the circulation of the paper. And the Huntsman of Chalebury was at one time, the most famous ghost in England, and he’s appeared again.’ The stout man sniffed. “Do you believe that bunk?” he asked scornfully. “Ghosts! Y'ou make me tired!” “Y’ou were born tired.” sead Tommy cheerfully. “Y’ou ought to take more excercise. Budd. Y’ou’re getting the same all the way up.” “There's my sergeant,” said Air Budd. disregarding this statement and waving towards the disconsolate figure which had drifted through the barrier, grasping a dilapidated suitcase. “Alust attract his attention, or he’ll go gettin’ the wrong train.” (To Be Continued.)