The Secret of the Square

Cromwell Argus, Volume LXIII, Issue 3249, 6 February 1933, Page 2

The Secret of the Square

By WILLIAM LE QUEUX. Author “The Enchained Peril,” “The Seven Secrets,” “In White Raiment,”

“Whatsoever a Man Soweth,” etc., etc,

(Published by Special Arrangement.)

CHAPTER XXL—(Continued.) The following morning, on arriving at the office, Hope was requested to go into the principal's room. VGood morning, Mr. Hope. I shall want you to do a little errand for mo this morning.” Cluad looked at him sharply. He was uncertain if Crundall knew of his visit the previous evening; at any rate, if he did, he gave no indication of it. “Yes, sir, I’m quite ready.

him as he backed towards the door.

“None of that; give me those back,” but the man only smiled at him. “Do you hear me? Give me those papers back, and be sharp about it. too.”

“I’m sorry I can’t oblige you, but I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll exchange the papers Crundall wants for the three blue slips you have.” “Rot! This is a plant, It seems. You’ll give me my papers at once, and Crundall can come for his own himself. You won’t?” as the man shook his head. “Then I’ll make you,” and with a spring Hope was on him. A fierce tussle ensued, in which first one and then the other seemed to get the better. But at last Hope had his opponent down and was kneeling on his chest as he wrenched the prize from his hand. “Now you can get up,” he gasped, “and clear out, and I'll be hanged if I take those papers for Crundall; you can send them to him yourself. I always thought him a rogue; now I know it for certain. Get up, do you hear?” .

“Very well. Kindly take this note to the address and wait. A man will probably accompany you to another house, the address of which I do not myself know, and there you will be given some papers to bring back to me. Be very careful of them, they are valuable.”

“Certainly, sir. When shall I go?" “At once, and I shall not expect you back till I see you. It may take you some little time.” On getting outside and looking at the'direction on the envelope, Hope found .it was in Hoxton, and thither he made his way. The street —Blake-street by name — was not a particularly attractive one, and as he knocked at the number on the envelope he could not help wondering how Crundall came to have business with a dweller in that quar. ter.

The man, his breath coming In short sharp gasps, obeyed. He seemed to be measuring his chances for a fresh attack, and then as another idea occurred, gave vent to a peculiar whistle.

In a'second Hope had divined his Intention and, drawing his revolver, said

The door was opened by a young man in his shirt sleeves.

“Are you Mr. Armstrong?” asked Hope.

"Oh, that’s you’re little game, is it? Stand back,’’ and levelling the pistol at his head, he edged round the man, so as to get between him and the door ans drive him against the opposite wall. This manoeuvre on Hope’s part came as a complete surprise, and the man’s face fell. Hope had, in the meantime, kicked the door to behind him; and placed his foot against it as the dogs came tearing up the passage and bounded against it. “If you don’t want your dogs killed, send them away. I swear I’ll shoot them if you don’t.” The man regarded him intently for a moment or two and, recognising determination written large on his face, did as he was bidden, and Hope heard the dogs retreating down the passage and then saw them through the window again in the garden. "I’m glad you’ve followed my advice. I should have been sorry to have been obliged to destroy those friends of yours; they’re worth a better fate,” he said. “But I’m going now. Kindly go before me; I don’t trust you as much as I might do, and If you utter a sound to your dogs you know their fate.” And Hope moved aside, leaving the way to the door clear, but all the time keeping his revolver pointed at his companion’s head.

"That’s my name.” “Then I have a note for you,” handing it to him. The man opened it and then said, "Please come inside. You come from Mr. Crundall?”

"Yes, for some papers, I believe.” "Well, I have not got them here, but shall have to fetch them. Will you wait for them? They will take some little time, or will you call again?” "From what Mr. Crundall said, I think he expected me to fetch them. Could I not go with you?” .“By all means; I shall be glad of your company. Wait a minute till I get my coat on. There’s the morning paper if you have not seen it” And he left the room. In a few minutes he returned and they left the house.

“I think we’d better take a taxi if you don’t mind; it’s some way off. Shall you object to a growler? I’ve got a bit of a cold.” "Anything you like, so long as you don’t stop me smoking.” Hope didn’t hear what address his companion told the driver, but he noticed that the journey was a long one and through a district he was not acquainted with. At length he said: “It’s a deuce of a way; where are we’ going?” "Fry-street. It is a long way, but we’re Just there now. You don’t know this part.” "Not in the least, and don’t want to, from what I’ve seen of It as we’ve come along.” "Oh, it’s not so bad; at least, there are many worse, but here we are,” as the cabby drew up in front of a row of houses that, from their size and general appearance, seemed out of place in the neighborhood. Armstrong paid the driver, in spite 'of Hope’s protest, and then led the way through the doorway in the high brick wall, across a deserted-looking garden,.to'the front door and knocked. The summons was answered by a powerful-looking man, to whom Armstrong said; “This gentleman has come for those papers for Mr. Crundall.” "Please walk in, and I’ll get them for you in a moment” And Hope, with a feeling he could not account for, entered the house. CHAPTER XXII. A Firm Stand. “Step this way, sir, please,” and Hope followed his conductor down rather a dark passage to a room at the back of the house. Then he noticed that Armstrong was no longer with him. "Kindly wait here; I’ll bring them to you,” the man said, leaving the room. While waiting, Hope walked to the window and found that It opened Into a high walled garden, In which two of the most savagelooking bull dogs he had ever seen were roaming about. "Shouldn’t care to be at their mercy,” he muttered, and his hand went to his hip pocket, where, according to a habit he had learnt abroad, he always carried a revolver. He was about to raise the sash and endeavor to make friends with them, for the window was six feet or more above the level of the garden, and he could do this with safety, when the door opened and the man entered. "These are the papers Mr. Crundall wants,” he said, holding a packet in bis hand.

The man did as he was told, never offering to speak. “When you reach the front door, open It, go outside and stand In the garden.” Down the dark passage they went In single file, and on the first man reaching the front door Hope had to pause, while he took down the chain. It was then that he suddenly and without the slightest warning received a crushing blow on the head. Fortunately for him, he was wearing a stiff felt hat, which in a great measure saved him, causing the weapon to glance off and fall on his shoulder. Still, it was a heavy blow, and Hope felt his senses tottering. In a second he turned and fired in the direction from when the attack seemed to come. There was a loud groan, followed by the sound of a fall; at the same instant the curious whistle was repeated. Staggering forward, Hope seized with his left hand the shoulder of the ruffian at the door, and placed the muzzle of the pistol to his head. “Your last moment has come If those dogs appear,” he said. “Send them back if you value your life. You have played me false, you villain, and I’ll have no mercy.”

The man obeyed him; he had “"no choice. Once more the dogs retreated. "Now, then, open the door and let’s see what’s happened here.” Again the man obeyed, and on the passage being flooded with light they found Armstrong lying at the foot of the stairs, half conscious, with the blood streaming from a wound In his arm, while at his feet lay a short oak bludgeon.

"You’ve done for him, poor chap,” growled the man. “Oh, have I? Well, you’re quite at liberty to give me in charge. I’m not going to run away; but I should advise you looking after him first. But there’s one other thing I’d rather you did even before that. Come and chain up those bull dogs; we shall get on more comfortably then. Come, march! ”

Followed by Hope with the pistol still at his head, he led the way to the yard, where, grumbling all the time, he did as he was told.

“Now, then, my friend, your attention will no longer be divided. Much better so, isn’t It, eh? You don’t think so? Fortunately in this case you’ve not got to think, but to do as I tell you.” Hope could see the man was boiling with rage, and he took delight in taunting him, though all the time his head was splitting. Arriving once again In the passage, they found Armstrong had not moved. Hope made the man find a piece of rag and bind up his arm, never, however, losing sight of him for a moment.

"Ah, thanks," and Hope stretched out to take them, but the man drew back, saying: "You’ll give me a receipt for them?” "Certainly! Have you got such a thing as a piece of paper?” “I’m afraid not. P’raps you’ve got one In your pocket?”

“I dont think so. And all unthinking Hope drew out the contents, including the three acceptances.

In a second his companion made a grab at them, securing two of the blue slips.

"What the devil mean by that?” exclaimed Hope, dashing after

The coat had first to be removed, and Hope lent a hand —his left one.

Halt sticking out of the breast pocket was a paper, and his companion, catching sight of It, made a grab at it, but Hope was too quick for him. “Go on with your work,” he said. Til take care of that.” “You’ve no right to touch another man’s letters,” growled the ruffian. “It’s robbery.” "It’s what? Kindly say that word again, will you,” replied Hope. “I said it wasn’t right to touch another man’s letters.”

“Oh, did you! I thought I heard something about robbery. In any case, you can give me in charge, as I said before. This seems to me a particularly interesting document.” For as Hope glanced at the object which proved to be an envelope, he had caught sight of a rough plan in pencil of some building, while above it was the elevation of the front of a house with one window marked with a cross.

At length the rough attempts at first aid were completed, and there was no occasion for his remaining longer. All this time Armstrong had not uttered a word, and Hope was not sure whether he was really insen. slble or shamming..

“Your best plan will be to get him to a hospital as soon as possible,” he remarked. “And if any questions are asked you can refer to me. You know my address, no doubt —Crundall’s, in Coleman-street. Now, open the door wider; stand outside in the garden, and don’t move till I am in the street,”

"Oh, I’ll stand where you, like so long as I can only see the back of you. You've done enough mischief for one day, I reckon.” And suiting the action to the word, he pulled open the door and went outside. As Hope passed he could not refrain from a parting shot. “You are an absolute blackguard. Well, I don’t know your name at present, but I shall in a day or two, when the police have got hold of you. good-morning,” and as he stepped into the street he slipped his revolver back into his pocket. From inquiries he made from the first respectable’ person he came across, he learnt he had been in Frystreet. Plaistow, and made his way to the railway as the quickest route to civilisation, as he put it. Once in the train, he took out his find, and, on turning it over, gave vent to a subdued whistle, for along the side of the flap he read in uncolored embossed letters, the address of the Sugden’s house in Blstree. CHAPTER XXIII. A London Mystery. By the time the train arrived at Fenchurch Street, Hope had made up his mind not to go back to the office that day. His head was giving him a good deal of pain, and the events of the morning had tried him more than he had supposed. He would take it easy and think out his next move. He sauntered across to Crosby Hall, had a good lunch, and then over his pipe and coffee in the smokingroom reviewed his position. But review it as he might, he came to no decision until evening was closing in, when he decided to do nothing that day but go home* and rest. On arriving there he was delighted to find Mansfield, who had looked in to have a chat with his mother. He joined them, saying nothing of what he had been doing, but he managed to convey to him that he should like to have a word with him. However, he had to wait some time for this, for Maggie coming home, Mansfield did not appear very anxious to move. At length he rose, and Claud, rising at the same time, said: "I’ll walk a little way with you; supper won’t be ready just yet, will it, mother?” “No, go and have a walk, Claud. It will do you good, after being all day In the city.” “You’ve got some news. I saw your sign, but I couldn’t very well get away just then,” said Mansfield as they left the house.

"Yes, I have got news,” and Claud gave him a full and detailed account of what had taken place since he had seen him last.

“By Jove! That is news!” exclaimed Mansfield, when he had finished. “You seem to have dropped on to a rather warm spot, Hope.” “I should think I did. And now what do you make of it all?” "That Crundall’s a bigger rascal than * I took him for. He meant getting those acceptances for that Loraine woman —getting them without paying for them.” “But how did he Intend to keep out of the affair himself? He must have seen he would be dragged Into It.” “I shouldn’t wonder If he’s got something up his sleeve that we know nothing of. He’s about as sharp as they make them, Hope. You’ve not seen him since?” “No. I must have all my plans cut and dried before I do. You can’t fight that man unprepared.” “And what about that envelope you found? Have you got It?” “Here it Is.” And the two men stopped under a lamp to look at it. Mansfield had not had it in his hand five seconds before he exclaimed: “Here’s luck! Do you know what It Is?”

“Can’t say I do, except it seems to have come from Sugden’s place.” “Why, man, it’s a plan of the first floor at Elstree, and an elevation of their house, and here's the window of Miss Sugden’s room, marked. I’ll bet we’ve dropped on the burglar, safe enough. Woodward must know of this at once. I wonder where we should find him; he’ll have left his rooms by now, probably. Is there a telegraph office anywhere near?” “There’s one just round the corner.” “Then come along, we’ll wire him to meet us at his rooms at once. We don’t want to disturb his wife; she’s not well, you know. It might flndj

him at home. At any rate, it’s worth trying.” After the wire had been sent the two men made their way to Chesterton Square, calculating that they would arrive there about the same time as Woodward. However, there was no light In his room when they reached the house, and they walked up and down along the street enclosure waiting to see If he would

come. Suddenly Hope caught hold of Mansfield’s arm. Pointing to a figure entering the square by Inverness-road, he whlsoered: “Look! Look! See that man? That’s Armstrong, the one I shot this morning. He’ll have his arm In a sling, I’ll be bound. Where’s he going? Mark him down. Why! he’s passed Crundall’s house, and —why—he’s going to your friend, the doctor’s.” And so it was, for as they stood there the man walked boldly up to the door and rang, though from that distance they could not see which bell he pressed. In a few minutes the door was opened by Hoggin, and without any word the caller was admitted. “That doesn’t look as if he had come to see Woodward,” said Mansfield. “There’s more behind this than we know of. Ah, there he is,” as Woodward was seen approaching. His friend sprang across the road and stopped before he got near his rooms and drew him to where Hope had remained. That Woodward was astonished goes without saying, but he was more astonished still when he heard why he had been summoned. After explaining matters as shortly as possible, Mansfield said: “You’ve got your key, of course? Then let us in as quietly as possible, and don’t switch on the light: we can do that afterwards, if needful. Come on.” Very quietly the three crept into the front room. There was no light in the hall and the house was absolutely silent. “Where can he have gone,” replied Mansfield, “up to Hoggin’s quarters.” And he proceeded to unlace his boots. “Are we to come with you?” “Not above the first floor. I should only want you in case of a row. And as this fellow has only one arm now, he counts for nothing, and there will only be Hoggin to settle with, and I think I am equal to him. No, on second thoughts you’d better both stay here, but be ready to come if I call.” And Mansfield left the room and crept up the staircase. His movements were cat-like, so careful was he against making any noise, for he was not certain where his quarry might be. The first and the second floor were passed, and in passing he had tried the handles of the doors after listening, but they were all fast. He was on the last flight now, and could hear the murmur of voices, but the door at the top was shut and he could not distinguish what was said, beyond a word here and there. He did not stop till he was at the door and had his ear at the keyhole. From the sound he gathered they were in an inner room, but try as he would he could not make out what they were talking about. Suddenly the voices grew louder, an inner door had been opened and someone had come out, and then he caught the words: “Wait a minute. I’ll get it; it’s only in the other room.” From the voice he knew it was a man’s, and the next remark in a different tone made him certain it was Hoggin. “He’ll have to pay well for this; I’m not going to be shot like a blooming rabbit for nothing!” “Of course he’ll pay; don’t you fret; he’s not a bad hand at that. Only do what he wants and he’ll shell out. Only do what he wants, and he’ll shell out. Here it is, now then ” And the door closed and nothing further was audible. Mansfield retained his position on the chance of a further piece of good fortune, but all he heard was a sound that completely puzzled him. There was a thump, thump, thump, and then all was silence, save the murmur of the voices. This went on for ten minutes or more. Then the door once more opened and he heard the words, “Well, now you know what to do, and you see it’s all right.” And as the voice grew nearer, it seemed as though they were coming out, so he hurried down to the next landing and waited there. He was not mistaken, the door was opened: the two men were descending. Down went Mansfield, and on the next landing brushed against the door of a cupboard beneath the flight of steps which was open. Instantly a fresh idea flashed across him, and he acted on It. Stepping Into the cupboard he pulled the door to behind him. The footsteps of the men passed his hiding place; they were going down in the dark. He waited till they were on the lower landing and, emerging, ran noiselessly up to Hoggin’s quarters. The wife might be there, he knew, but he had not heard her voice. He must take his chance of that. The door was ajar. He entered; there was an oil lamp on the table giving a feeble light, but he was able to make out a gasman’s pump standing close against the wall. What could it be wanted for? There was not a jet burning in the whole house. He tried to move the pump. It was a fixture! The pump was in working order, for he tried it. There was something there he did not understand, but sufficient for the moment was the fact that he had seen it. He dare not stay longer, for he thought he had caught the sound of the closing of the half door. As he hurried down the stairs again to his hiding place his suspicions were confirmed. Hoggin was coming up leisurely enough now, and Mansfield had plenty of time to get safely into

the cupboard before he passed the spot. He heard him reach his own apartments; then he continued his own descent.

His friends were awaiting him with some anxiety. They had heard the departure and had not known what had become of him, but they had heard even more. The men had stopped a moment at the door, talking, and from what was then said it appeared Armstrong was not going back home for fear of his share In that morning’s work at Fry-street, but would remain at an address he men. tioned, where he could be communicated with until he considered it safe. “You’re sure you’ve got the address right?” asked Mansfield. “We’ll write it down directly we get outside to a light, because I meai to have that young gentleman when I’m ready for him; but for the present he’ll help us more by being at large. And now let us be off; we can do no more good here to-night, and we want to be somewhere where we can talk freely, and evidently one can’t do that here.” “I know a small cosy ‘pub’ not far off, If you’re not above such a thing,” said Hope, looking more especially at the doctor, “No, go on. It’s after business, and there’ll be no one there likely to know me.” They had just got clear, of the square when Mansfield, whose arm Claud had taken, suddenly felt his companion was not walking as he had been a moment or two before. His steps were uncertain, and turning to see what was the cause he observed his eyes were closed and there was a queer semi-conscious look on his face. “What’s the matter, Hope? Aren’t you well?” But there was no answer, and the next instant Claud’s knees seemed to give way and before Mansfield could stop him he had sunk in an unconscious heap on the pavement. “I’m not surprised,” said Woodward, bending over him. This is the result of the blow he got this morning. He ought not to have come out to-night. We’d better get him home at once; it may be serious.” A taxi being called, Hope utterly helpless, was lifted In. Woodward went with him, Mansfield taking another taxi and hurrying on to prepare his mother and sister for his reception. It was late that night when the two friends left Mrs. Hope’s house. Woodward promising to call first thing next morning. “This is very awkward, apart from the danger to poor Hope. We wanted his evidence, and now it will be some time, if ever, before he can give It,” said Woodward. “You think as badly as that of him ” “You never know how these cases will go. But I shall be better able to tell to-morrow.” “Then I’ll meet you at their house at ten o’clock so that we can decide how we are to act,” and the two men shook hands and parted. (To be Continued.)