The Framing of Inspector Denvers

Ellesmere Guardian, Volume LX, Issue 25, 31 March 1939, Page 3

The Framing of Inspector Denvers

THE GUARDIAN'S SERIAL

By AIDAN DE BRUNE Author of "The Manor Mytery" "The Flirting Fool," "Saul and the Spinster," etc.

(Copyright)

CHAPTER XXII. Immediately the door was shut behind. Sir Edmund, Jimmie Frost came out from his concealment. For a long time he stared at the house, a puzzled frown on his face. Every happening that night had served to deepen, not clarify, the mysteries he was probing. Why had Martha Tayne and Joyce Paynter come to that house? True, he believed the house belonged to the man, if indeed, he was "Cain." That might account for the man's presence, but why was the girl there? What business should she have with the crook? When he had visited her at Luther Banke's store, he had been convinced of her honesty, and her loyalty to her employer. For what rea3on had Sir Edmund Morgan come to that house? What did he know of the place and its inhabitants? Had he expected to meet Martha Tayne and Joyce Paynter there—or had he expected to find "Cain"? The ex-detective put the thought from him; he was suspecting the police chief of disloyalty to the department. To his perplexities he had to add the person he had seen carried into that house on the stretcher. Who was the invalid? For the moment he considered whether the invalid had been "Cain." He rejected the idea, immediately. There could be no possible need for "Cain" to adopt such a subterfuge to gain his own house. The place was not under police suspicion; never,, during the seven years of the master-1 crook's career, had the police been that close on his trail. Had the invalid on the stretcher been a genuine medical case? Before he left that house he would know the answer to '• that question. He turned towards the "house. For the present he would not speculate. He had to search and watch. Later, when he was at home, smoking a last pipe before turning in for the night, he would try and co-ordinate these problems, and any new discoveries, into a logical story.

He found the kitchen as he had left it. Moving cautiously, he went up the passage to the hall, first making sure no one wa3 in the offices.

For a few minutes he lingered before the door of Che room he called "Cain's study." He could hear voices in the room, but, again, could only distinguish an occasional word. He believed he could identify a new voice—one deeper in tone than JoycePaynter's, but was not certain.

A long wait, listening at the door, and he was confident the people in the room would not come out of it for some time, unless disturbed. Then he started a silent, systematic survey of the rooms on the ground floor. They were well, and completely furnished, and showed signs of recent use. The only strange thing about them was that every window was closely sealed with thick felt.

He returned to the hall and went to the stairs. Something might be discovered in the upper storey. Halting on the bottom tread, he made a mental picture of the house. If "Cain" alone occupied it then the room where the people were gathered must be his sitting-room. There, it was probable, he kept his papers— the documents Jimmie Frost so ardently desired to examine; the evidence that might put the mastercrook behind prison bars.

Yet, even "Cain" must sleep. It was improbable that "Cain" would make his bed in his sitting-room; and Jimmie Frost had not found a bedroom on the ground floor. The ex-de-tective made his way up the stairs.

On the upper storey, he found himself in a corridor running the width of the house. At the ends of the corridor were tall windows. They were carefully blanked with felt, similar to the windows downstairs. He let his light slide along the walls of the corridor. . On the front of

Author of "The Grays Manor Mystery," "The Flirting Fool," "Saul and the Spinster," etc.

the house were four doors; on the opposite side were two doors and a short corridor. The corridor was over the domestic offices. He switched off his torch—to immediately see rays of light coming under a door opposite the head of the stairs. Then the person the ambulance had brought to the house had been a real invalid, and had been placed in this upstairs room. Jimmie Frost set his ear against a panel of the door. He could hear someone moving about ■the room. For a moment he was perplexed; then grinned broadly. Of course there was someone attending the invalid. The person moving about the room must be the nurse. But how had she come to the house? Had she been there before the man and girl arrived? Jimmie Frost believed he had seen everyone who had entered the house after them. A small sound made Him turn swiftly. Immediately he noticed that a light was shining under a door almost opposite the first lighted room. Cautiously the ex-detective went to the door. j Again he listened. He could hear! someone moving within the room. Then two of the bedrooms were occupied! In which of these rooms lay the invalid? ! Jimmie Frost let the light of his torch play along the length of the corridor. Both ends were fitted as lounges. A second's deliberation and he chose the corridor end furthest from the second lighted room. TBere, he was sure, he could remain unobserved, unless the corridor was searched. A little re-arrangement of the furniture and he made himself comfortable for a long wait. He felt safe, for he realised that this was not a house of light; in fact, this corridor had probably not been lighted for Borne considerable time. He had not long to wait. Barely had he concluded his arrangements, when the door of the second lighted room opened. Jimmie Frost craned forward, but the light in the room was switched off before the occupant left the room. He only saw a man's form emerge.

The man went to the stairs. The ex-detective followed, arriving at the head of the stairs to see light flash from the study, as the door was opened.

Jimmie Frost went to the room from which the man had emerged. Listening at the panel for a moment, he opened the door. A flash from his torch located the light-switch. He turned and closed the door.

The room was a bedchamber, wellfurnished, and evidently occupied by a man. Swiftly, and with expert precision, the ex-detective searched the room. The first suspicious thing he found was a large and wellequipped make-up box in a corner of the wardrobe. A few minutes later, on top of the wardrobe, he found a series of boxes, containing wigs and other hirsute make-up aids. Yet the3e might belong to an innocent person with amateur theatrical proclivities.

The room baffled him. Jimmie Frost stood before the dressing-table, sombrely surveying the room. Was there no clue here to what he sought ?

. A piece of white paper lay halfhidden by the bed. Jimmie Frost pounced upon it eagerly. On it was a series of figures. The paper held only the figures. The ex-detective folded the paper and placed it in his wallet. Perhaps, somewhere in the house might be something to connect with it.

Switching off the light, he left the room and went into the corridor. As he passed the lighted room opposite the head of the stairs, he listened again at the door. For seconds he could hear no sounds within the room, then a chair creaked. The nurse—if

there were a nurse—was still in the room.

Jimmie Frost turned from the door, then hesitated. He must know who the invalid was; and he could not afford to wait until the nurse came out of her own accord. She might not move from the room until morning. In some way he must shift her.

For some minutes he stood meditating. He must get the nurse from the room long enough for him to make an examination of it and the patient. But, how?

A little smile came on his lips, then he laughed suddenly. If the nurse was a stranger to the house, there might be a way. He might be able to frighten her away. For a moment he thought his idea absurd, but decided to give it a trial.

He let his light play along the corridor. There was no furniture between the door and his hide-out to impede him. The floor was thickly carpeted, and his quick steps would make no sounds. Turning to the door, he rapped on a panel thrice, slowly and distinctly—then ran for his hid-ing-place. ,

Hardly had he reached safety when the door opened, and a woman came out on the corridor. For a moment she stood undecided, as if astonished to find no one there. She peered along the corridor in both directions, then went to the head of the stairs and peered down on the hall below. Finally, she returned to the sickroom.

Hardly had the woman shut the door, when Jimmie Frost was on his feet. Allowing, her time to settle again in her chair, he knocked again; thrice, slowly and solemnly. Again he hid.

There was an appreciable interval before the door opened. The woman's head came into view, scanning the corridor. Then the head was withdrawn and the door roughly shut. The ex-detective tKought he heard the key turn in the lock. So far, good! But Jimmie Fro'dti wished her to vacate the room, 'notlock herself within it. He went to the door again. Placing his mouth' against the key-hole, he moaned, throwing into his voice all the ghostly eeriness he could command, at the same time knocking solemnly. Almost before the ex-detective could get from before the door, it was flung open and the nurse ran to the stairs, and down them, screaming. Jimmie Frost ran into the room, ! closing the door behind him. A quick |glance showed him the bed. He\ strode to it—and looked down on the bearded face of Luther Banke. A gasp escaped his lips. So Luther Banke was the invalid who had been brought to that house! Luther Banke was in the power" of j "Cain." j For almost a minute Jimmie Fr63t stood beside the bed absolutely bewildered. Those seconds almost cost him all the work Ke had accomplished that night. He heard voices raised on the floor below; running footsteps sounded on the stairs. He" sprang to the door and turned the key in the lock.

For the moment he was safe; bufe how could he escape from that room ? There was no hiding place in it. When they battered down the door he would be "Jimmie Frost," international crook and murderer, escapee from Sing Sing prison, wanted by the police in his own city.

He must escape, and suspicion must not rest on him. In some manner he must incriminate the nurse; persuade those with her to believe her the victim of hallucinations. But, how could the locked door be avoided?

Very cautiously, he withdrew the key from the lock, then went to the windows. The felt cut easily, and the lower sash lifted.

The door was quivering under the thrust of powerful shoulders. Jimmie Frost went to the door and carefully slid the key under it, into the corridor. Then he returned to the window and pulled close the heavy velvet curtains draping it. Before anyone would think to look behind them, and see the cut felt, he would have made good his escape.

On the verandah-roof he waited, his ear pressed against the window. He heard the door give with a sudden crash, and people storm into the room. Then he slid down to the gutter, and dropped to the drive.

His one thought was that he must get into the house again, as quickly as possible. While the occupants were upstairs, searching and wondering over the nurse's fright, was his opportunity to examine "Cain's" sit-ting-room.

Silent as the shadows he moved

among, he went round the corner of the house in the direction of the J kitchens. Just as he came in sight j of the back-door, he saw it slowly j open. He drew back into the shadows. A man came out of the_ door and advanced to where Jimmie Frost stood. The ex-detective waited until j the man was a bare couple of yards j from him, then pointed the torch at the man's face and pressed the trigger. With a shout that was almost a scream of unreasoning terror, Jimmie ' Frost dropped his torch, turned and ran. Automatically, his legs carried him out of the grounds of that house of mystery, on to the suburban road where his car was parked. Presently he stopped, his brow wet with cold! perspiration, every nerve of his body tingling and trembling. What had he seen ? He tried to review the past minutes logically; but his nerves quivered at the memory. In the strong light of his powerful j torch he had seen before him Luther Banke; the man he had seen a few j moments before stretched on a bed in the room upstairs, a helpless, living corpse. (To be continued)