THE HUNTSMAN

Bay of Plenty Times, Volume LXXI, Issue 13773, 16 October 1942, Page 7

THE HUNTSMAN

(By Gerald Verner)

the troubled face r,:^ C J, rom it to the expres■;{l! 2 the fat man. *ant to know?” she aS Ketler?" replied jtecond, everything you she .aid - jir Budd nodded -’V B, "That's very sensible, r’i'to «k 3 any trouble .1 %„.Ued. but natural j, >e > Jt * tn do. If you re not ' Mv involved in this business might be Possible to keep tfCT* clo with it was i compulsion,” she answer,t3; thinking something of the ' ai(i Mr Budd. “And that y 3 deal of difference. Now, this feller Keller ?f ■/vas my uncle.” she answered iW voice.. “ His real name was . - Ingram.” G fathers brother?” asked Mr n and she nodded. V said the big man, And he ja you engrave the plates for a slush notes, eh? ’

ij'jiD she nodded. didn't want to, but he threati IHO disclose something he she reddened slowly and r ,,j Mr Budd looked at her jj puzzled frown, and then his sheared.

iknow what he threatened you 1," te said, and there was a trace huour in his voice. “He knew H your going through a form of -iage with this man Norrington ;>pur husband was alive. “That t isn’t it?" was scarlet.

i thought my—my husband was 11 didn’t know ” She stamd in her embarrassment.

Sigamy’s scarcely a crime,’’ said Bidd. "And he held this over ito make you do what he want-

fe; ami then when I’d done the plate he said that now I was nth involved as he was, and he me go on doing more when pore out,” She was recovering' • calmness. "That was how he ’led—by blackmail. He had a lover all the people who worked 'l®. although they didn’t even “'lim. He got Chalebury in his % that way. He had got him■oa: of a hole by forging a trans- ' hhares belonging to a man who • % uncle knew about it and i him to act as a figurehead in hfjery organisation. He got a ' ! oI the profits, too.”

■'iyoii know that Chalebury was asked Mr Budd. until the night I came to ■ som e fresh plates for my >l>e answered. “He asked me - e 3 message up to Chalebury ’■ Sir Eustace would be waitd| be sa td- It was some in■a concerning a distribution Chalebury was wait■■‘C drawing-room and let me tapped on the window. We a shock when we. recognised ■-ter." ij J,' lld he shot in the leg?” isj B “ dd suddenly. “That was wasn’t it?”

Again the : * up ’ n t° her cheeks. “ ed lo ‘~~to become frienclbroke in Cadell an--4iCdi!’Vinterrupte(l Mr Budd, :; 0 -.. d ' e v ery pleasantly, S.U Se'V’ 1 ' 1 ® made Inand a ‘ ,ol>t r . f « Stocking-foot?” V !p 18s wer « a blind,” she Tinatins- 6 . Was Searchi ng for an '■<i a in, 111606 of evidence. He Strict tlle bouses in i a h beer and wine and remo!? COnsi Snment —he y a bin 16r which —he had v i:s Paper n‘ tten ° n a piece of 'titbad h" W ° Uld have ruined !° Und ’ He adopted • , %i,: toCking ' foot make as a real burglar at

e fi nd it?** , . f Sked the stout ’ nd h e shook her •’’she ~ ,^ SWere(i . and gave a £ He didn^r 1 t 0 Inspector £’ but he realis « its sig- , sa Per t 0 en tioned the pe',>y. .! led ' said Mr Budd £ h ‘n hi 3 was Pretty jJ 51 al)0 Ut th 6 ° ds ‘ Hicklin S 1 to ChaipK People gosng up &al€b ury court, and

what they went for, and he was killed

too. He pursed his lips and rasped a fat finger round his unshaven chin.

‘‘Your uncle must have talked to you a lot, Mrs Langden,” he said. “He was a very vain man,” she answered. “He liked to boast of his cleverness. And I was the only safe person he could talk to.”

“Well, I think that’s all,” said the big man, and gave a mighty yawn. “Excuse me, hut I’m feeling a hit tired. There doesn't seem any reason why you should be dragged into this, ma'am. The real feller responsible’s dead, so he can’t bring you -into it, and he may as well bear- the full brunt of it.”

“Then you mean I—l’m—l needn’t stop here any longer?” said Faith eagerly. “I mean you can do exactly as you please,” replied Mr Budd. “I may need you as a witness, but that’s all.” She looked at him with shining eyes, and then turned to Cadell.

“Do you remember what you asked me to promise you—last night?” she said softly. “I don’t want to leave here —alone.”

“This,” muttered Mr Budd hastily, “ is where we make ourselves scarce, Weston! ”

On the way back to' Chalebury, Tommy put a question that had been worrying him for a long time.

“What made you suspect Ketler?” he asked.

“Beer!” replied Mr Budd prompt-

“I’m serious—” began the reporter. “So’m I,” said the big man. “I said beer and I mean Beer with a capital B. You remember that scrap of paper in the torch at Cadell’s? That was the vital clue when you read it properly. It was part of a bill from Blossoms Breweries, Ltd. One of the items mentioned was‘l. Firkfh,’ which is a small barrel of beer. It suggested a pub immediately. It' was a wholesale bill, not a retail one, and I found several bills at the Fox and Hounds. I suppose you’ll be rushing along to see that girl?” “I may drop in later,” said Tommy, reddening, and hastily changed the subject. “What did you want to take all those photographs for?” “I wanted a picture of Ketler to send to the Yard for possible identification,” answered Mr Budd. “I should have thought a kid of six could have seen through, that!” The new landlord of the Fox and Hounds held the glass he had been polishing up tp the light and examined it critically.

“You’re not trying to make me believ that the Huntsman was a ghost, after all, surely, Mr Bragg?” he said. “Why I’ve heard the story too often to swollen that. Everybody knows that he was the father of that nice girl, Miss Renton what was married yesterday in Lunnon to that newspaper chap ” “You can believe what you like, Mr Winter,” interrupted Mr Bragg with dignity. “There ain’t no monopoly on what a man believes. I say there is something about what happened in these parts last year that can’t be explained by natural means.” “You always was a one for the spooks, Mr Bragg!” said Scowby. “I npver met such a feller!”

“There ain’t nothing that ain’t been explained,” declared Perkins. “Didn’t you read all about it in the papers at the time?” “You can’t believe what they says in them things,” said Mr Bragg disgustedly. “The Huntsman has been a legend fer years and years. You can’t tell me that they explained that away!”

' “I ain’t going to try and explain nothing ter you, Bragg,” began Scowby. “You’re as obstinate as —” “Listen!” said Mr Bragg, holding up his hand suddenly. They all heard it ,and there was a dead silence. “D’ye ken John Peel with his coat so gay, He lived at Troutbeck once on a day; But now he’s gone, far, far away, We shall ne’er hear his horn in the morning.”

The familiar song, faint at first, grew gradually nearer. “The Huntsman!” breathed Mr Bragg hoarsely. ‘‘Now what d’yer say ” “I’ll have a pint’ of mild and bitter!’’ cried Yates from the doorway. “Cheer up! What did yer think I was —a ghost?” THE END