The Fortune-Telling House

Ellesmere Guardian, Volume LVI, Issue 42, 28 May 1935, Page 7

The Fortune-Telling House

By AIDEN de BRUNE (Copyright) Author of "The Dagger and Cord," "The Shadow Crook," "Grays Manor Mystery."

AN INTRIGUING STORY OF MYSTERY AND ROMANCE

"But —they've found oil!" blurted one of the listening constables. Jess Markham turned swiftly on the man.

"What's that?" he growled. "Well, if they've found oil, it's my oil, isn't it?" ,

"It's mine!" Arthur Parkinson thrust his lean face forward. "Sergeant Adson, I hold a lease of this house and the surrounding grounds, and there's a clause in the lease giving me everything found on the property."

Sam laughed suddenly. "How long have you been here, Parkinson?" he asked quietly.

"What's that got to do with you?" The man flushed hotly. "I've been here all the afternoon, and I find that you're neglecting the duty you are paid by me to perform. You're fired! Understand that? And get off this property at once!"

"I'm fired!" Again Sam laughed. "Well, before I go, tell me why you came to Barralong."

"I came to see Mr Markham this afternoon, and then he told me of the murder. Then I came on here to see that the interests of my newspaper were not suffering in your hands. I didn't trust you, you damned young city whipper-snap-per!"

"Since when have you ceased to be a city whipper-snapper?" asked the journalist pleasantly. "That's rather an awkward question, isn't it, Mister —Thomas—Dinkier?"

For a moment Parkinson gaped at Sam, then his face flushed with anger and he charged forward. Sergeant Adson's stiffened arm brought him up with a jerk.

"None of that!" commanded the police officer. "What's all this, Mr Laske? What did you call this man?"

"At present he calls himself Ar-

thur Parkinson, and he is the pro-

. prietor of the 'Southbury Valuator.' p Some years ago, in Sydney, he wore the name of Thomas Dinkier, and was a company promoter and an associate of Solomon Birder." "Ridiculous!" Jess Markham took a step forward. "I'll answer for Mr Parkinson's integrity and character."" "You have enough to do to look after your own affairs." Sam turned on the farmer, anger shining in his eyes. "Parkinson, or Dinkier, whichever you prefer, says you gave him a lease of this house and lands. The Public Trustee will want to know why and how that lease was given, and who pocketed the consideration." "The Public Trustee?" Jess Markham stared. •

"Just so," said Sam. "I had a talk with my news-editor this morning, and he told me that it was common knowledge that when old Matthew Parker—the solicitor and your co-trustee under Mrs Cantle's willdied, he appointed the Public Trustee in his place. Got that, Mr Jess Markham? And you thought that, with old Parker dead, you had everything in your hands. Now you know why the Public Trustee will ask questions. He'll want to know why you gave a lease of Miss Cantle's property without consulting her—and perhaps a lot more." "Well, you can't hold that over me!" blustered Parkinson. "I'm going to act on the lease I hold and for which I've paid. I took the lease in good faith and if Markham hadn't the right to grant it, that's his lookout. Until the question of validity is settled by the courts I'm going to claim my valid rights." He turned to Sergeant Adson. "Now, sergeant, you know the law. I've a lease of these lands and the house, and I want these people turned off them right away." "So that you shall have ample opportunity to stake out a claim for an oil-bearing lease," retorted Sam sweetly. "Not a bit of it, Arthur dear! And, by the way, aren't you slightly mistaken regarding the time you came to Barralong? Last "night I was standing before the hotel in Barralong and saw a motor car turn in at Markham's gate. Can you assure me that wasn't your car?" "It was." Leslie spoke suddenly. "Mrs Markham told me Mr Parkinson stayed at her house the night before I came down here." "Then you saw him, Leslie?" askPKed Sam eagerly.

"No, he was not at the house when I arrived home:" The girl spoke simply. "But I know he was there, for Mrs Markham had put him to sleep in my old room and all his things were there, when I went into the room to change."

"That's something: for you to answer," Sam' turned swiftly on the

newspaper proprietor. "You followed the Jay Bird to Barralong and came to Darrington House during the night—the night the Jay Bird was murdered."

"I ■

"Here!' Sergeant Adson broke in. "This is getting serious, Mr Laske. Are you accusing Mr Parkinson of "

"I am accusing Mr Parkinson, otherwise Thomas Dinkier, of causing the Jay Birds' death, by stabbing him with a knife." Sam paused, then- continued: "Look here, Adson, you'll have to take my word for it, for the moment. When we have a chance to talk, I'll put all my clues before you. I—l saw Thomas Dinkier, or, as he prefers to be known now, Arthur Parkinson, murder the Jay Bird."

Parkinson's violently shouted denials were stifled as the constables closed in on him. He called on Jess Markham to support a series of incoherent assertions. But Markham was facing difficulties of his own, and was not prepared to perjure himself for a man who but a few moments before had been prepared to sacrifice him over the lease of the house and grounds. In answer to Sergeant Adson's quick and pertinent questions he admitted the truth of Leslie's statements regarding Parkinson's arrival at his home.

When the commotion had in some measure subsided, and Parkinson and Markham had left the house under police escort for Southbury, Sam and Leslie wandered down the old garden court. For long minutes they were silent, then:

"Well, you won't have to go back to Sydney and swot on any beastly newspaper," said Sam suddenly and gruffly.

"No." A long pause, and the girl spoke again: "Sam, dear, when you locate a mining claim don't you have to stake it and put up a notice?"

"I suppose so." Sam stared perplexedly at the girl. "Jove, Leslie, I nearly forgot about that and let you down! Why, after what I've already said, anyone could stake a claim here!"

"I suppose a girl can stake a claim?" asked Leslie, doubtfully.

"Why not? A girl's got all the privileges of a man—and then some!" Enthusiastically, Sam dragged a pad of copy paper out of his pocket and sought for a pencil. "Here, I'll soon

"Let me. You tell me what to write." Leslie took the pencil and paper from the newspaper-man's hands and stood squarely facing him. "Now, go on. No, don't look, or you will make me nervous."

In very exact terms, and with the secret hope that the notice would be sufficiently valid until he could get to a lawyer and have the form drafted in proper order, Sam dictated a rough statement of the oil-find. The girl wrote quickly. Then she tore the sheet from the pad and thrust paper and pencil into the young man's hand.

"Now, where do we post it, Sam?" Then, impulsively:. "I know! On the old well!"

She ran down the garden to the old well, Sam following much more slowly. At the well-side, Leslie was joined by Sergeant Adson, who had returned to the gardens from the house. The police officer bent and read the notice. He straightened as Sam came up and held out his hand.

"Congratulations, Mr Laske! Hope you've found a real gusher!"

"Miss Cantle's well, you mean." Sam grinned wryly. He hated to think of the girl with all the money the oil would pour into her lap. "I —I second your hope, heartily."

Sergeant Adson, grinning broadly, waved a large-sized hand at the well. Turning quickly, he marched toward the house, his big shoulders shaking with laughter.

Much puzzled, Sam bent down to read the notice he had' dictated. The wording was much different to what he had intended; in fact, he could not find one sentence that was his own. It read: "This is an oil-well, and there's oil all round here. It was found by Mr Samuel Laske and belongs to him. I won't have it. Leslie Cantle." "But, Leslie " Sam turned to face the girl, his face red. "You— you can't do that!" "I've done it, and that's all that is to be said on the subject," declared the girl determinedly. "I own the house and you own the oil-well —that's fair, isn't it?" "But you can't, Leslie* I can't take it." "Can't you?" For once in her