THE HUNTSMAN

Bay of Plenty Times, Volume LXXI, Issue 13770, 13 October 1942, Page 7

THE HUNTSMAN

< " augh ed exultantly, U 'fit away '>'° n " „d cry was raised. **" Voicing automatic he it and began to > f-jiod. trying to rei^ rd recent exertions. he had shot were funded troubled him B ' y H ; was only concerned !«""' cnfety. The second fall-, hut the < ng to struggle to Ins :■ loudly and rubbing lus :jr ' 'he bullet had hit him. -f 6 pursing suddenly *»* he stared in wonder- * ; d om h the wooa can. the ■;someone singing: :; iljo l,n Peel, with his coat jogay. ~ ~ , t froutbeck once on a :', (!v6U 1U J'ite's gone far, far away, ne'er > hear his horn in Ijj morning." ...lesoundoftheold, familiar * m so unexpectedly from "rtod, the murderer stopped dead L o [ the shadows into the .' # t came a great black horse, ■r P ink coat of its rider making a to, 0 j colour against the drab Jp, nl | ( the white, deathly face •sslonless and terrifying.

lie wounded man on the ground ni little gasp of fear, and stared riwide eyes. The man who had - him stared, ' too, but for a (grent reason. Just when he had tf congratulating himself that j K ffa3 a chance of escape, this mpected danger had loomed up t of the night.

lite Renton broke off in the !itof his song abruptly as he took kite situation. Here was the man Mad tried to harm Audrey—who MM,but for her lucky escape, have ltd her." A great anger surged imgll him, He had no idea that fe men on the ground were detects, but he could see that they had si injured, and he guessed the »«, Reining-in his horse, he look--ita'a at the man responsible. "What has been happening here?" baled sternly.

Ike other licked his dry lips, and < land went to the pocket where i? had put tbe pistol.

'Don't interfere!" he snarled KsbllO business of yours."

1 "link it is very much business '"he," retorted Renton. "Who ■ men and what have you •s to them?"

jht I'll do to yon if you don't JWt of it!" W as the reply. Jj oJ and leave me alone or it •« the worse for you." ■J "and came out of his pocket, :Jlc ? the pistol.

"jyouthinkl'mafvaidcf thai?" 'toton comtempuously. "I have JgWie things ihan bullets in JSN am facing- a far worse -snow." '

>je asked for it and you shall "• snarled the murder; but C tightened on the trigger ,;!, the bridle, the big C r ! edfol ' Ward ' andth e bullet S jrmlessly past his head. ~;°' e Mother could fire again ~s a chorus of excited shouts *«ofm ' V ° od burst a little i;> r en ' The murderer caught ..J? 0 the.fat, lumbering figure ni h n'' Fantecl Mr Budd. "I fjj«» tor murder!" - Th. bf nt . 0n Who answered the N *snt*«n orse Ponged forward npursuitofthe •'W a ' fu S"ive turned as hoofs behind and h, ton full in the b %fenV ead "is rS J ,rom the saddle. " sh °tan I dby the sound of > l!i "S hi 6 SUdden loss of the £ and ,° n the rein - w*to. Dd lash ed out with his :^: dhoofs caught the ? ?h fl esb. an V!; efaCe ' Smashin S ? B^h«r t r d huriins *; Ulk - th ree yards he is," 7> alittle lat « r . "You'd ;•;; Hi 3 face , a Cntify him f™m smashed t 0 PulP. .Sthe^f never think landlord *> na Hounds, would you,

(By Gerald Verner)

CABELL SPEAKS

Busy men hurried through the silent streets of Chalebury, cars sped back and forth along the narrow lanes. There were lights in the windows of the ,Fox and Hounds and in the windows of Chalebury Court and Oaklands. Lights, too, in many other houses throughout the district, where scared men and women, hastily awakened from sleep, were whisked away in charge of the sternfaced detectives who had come for them. The desk-sergeant in the tiny rharge-room of the little police station worked harder than he had ever clone before during all his years of duty, and over the' telephone lines wen* urgent messages to Scotland Yard. It was a night of ceaseless activity for everybody concerned—an activity that concerned far into the coming day. Mr Budd was here, there, and everywhere, weary eyed, breathless and perspiring, and the melancholy Leek, galvanised into action under the driving force of his superior, displayed an energy that was remarkable. The sun was up, shining coldly over the frost-bound countryside, before the major portion of what had to be done was completed, and the stout superintendent took a momentary rest and refreshed himself with steaming coffee in Inspector Dadd's microscopic office. "I think that's pretty nearly everything," he remarked with a prodigius yawn, glancing at the mass. of scribbled notes in front of him. "We've got the small fry, and we've got what's left of the big fish. The rest of it's just an ordinary matter of routine." "What about the woman?" asked the inspector. "We'll attend to her presently," answered Mr Budd. "She's all right where she is at the moment. How did Miss Renton .take the death of her father, Weston?" Tommy Weston, who had elected to break the news to the girl, crushed out the stub of his cigarette in the inspector's ashtray. "Better than I expected," he replied. "It gave here a shock, of course, and she was naturally upset, but it didn't affect her as bad as I anticipated." Mr Budd grunted.

"If she did but know it, it's a blessing in disguise," he said. "It's going to save her a lot of trouble —a whole heap of trouble —once sb,e gets over the first shock of her loss. I wish we could have taken that other feller alive, though," he added sadly.

"I don't see that it matters very much," said the reporter. "He'd have been banged in any case. The horse save the executioner a job. What made him kill Chalebury?"

"To keep his mouth shut," answered the big man. "He overheard what Major Hankin was telling me yesterday at the inn, about Chalebury's visit, an concluded that he was on the point of squealing, which, he undoubtedly was."

"There's quite a lot I don't understand,' said Tommy curiously. "This man Ketler was responsible for the flood of forgeries, wasn't he?" "He was," replied Mr Budd, nodding gravely. "We found the plant in the cellars of the inn—an electric press, stacks of paper, plates, everything. We also found how he managed to get out without my men seeing him. He'd made a passage from one cellar to a dried-up well in a corner of the field at the back of the pub. He could come and go whenever he liked, and no one the wiser. I expect he originally used it for his Stocking-foot impersonation."

"What was the idea of that?" demanded the reporter. "if he was turning out these forged notes wholesale, and getting a huge profit out of them, what did he want to go in for burglary for?" "That's something I'll probably be able to tell you later," said Mr Budd. "At the moment, I don't know." "And how did Chalebury come into it?" went on Tommy. "He was in the note racket, I suppose?" "He most certainly was," agreed Mr Budd. "Maybe we'll all know a lot more after I've seen this feller Cadell.' "Yes, and there's Cadell, too," said the reporter. "What's his share in all this?" For answer the big man rose wearily to his feet. '"l'd going along to now to ask him," he said. "You can come too, if you like." They found the novelist finishing his breakfast.

• "I hear there have been stiring doings in Chalebury during the night," he said, when they were seated in the pleasant dining-room. "Battle, murder, and sudden death!" '"That's a pretty good description," said Mr Budd, nodding. "What's the reason for this visit?" Cadell asked abruptly. "I want some information," answered Mr Budd, slowly stirring his coffee. I want a story from you that begins several years ago, and ends with your visit to your wife last night." Cadell helped himself to a cigarette, lit it, and eyed him steadily through the smoke. "So you know about that?" he said after a pause. "H'm, well, before I say anything, suppose you tell me exactly what happened last night." Rather to Tommy's surprise, Mr Budd complied. "So Ketler was-responsible for all this trouble, er?" remarked Cadell, when he had finished. "That surprises me. I've no idea. What are you going to do about my wife?" "I'm not going to do anythin' until I've heard your story and hers," replied Mr Budd. "She engraved those plates •" "You've no proof of that!" broke in the novelist.

"No I've no proof," agreed the big man. "But I'm sure, all the same." "Your conviction is not evidence," said Cadell. He threw his cigarette into the fire. "I'll tell you what you want to know," he went on quickly. He took out another cigarette, twisting it about in his fingers without lighting it. (To be continued)