The MAN from the GULF

Evening Star, Issue 22892, 25 February 1938, Page 15

The MAN from the GULF

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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (Continued). * THE MYSTERY MAN UNMASKED. The policeman barked the last order, as he advanced on the hut, with his big pistol levelled: “If you move I’ll kill you.” Summers and Patterson were at the window first reached by' the officer. They were stricken dumb with amazement. In the uniform of the mounted police, threatening them with a service pistol, the moon lighting up his face clearly, stood Clarence Welsby, hard .and stermns justice itself.. ' “ Come out where I can see you,” he snapped. “ And, mind, I’ll kill the man that shows the least sign of resistance.” Patterson and Summers were the last out of the hut, and when they had been expertly searched for their guns by a trooper, they saw that all the others of their party were handcuffed together, and that their firearms lay in a heap on the ground in front of them. The thieves had been handcuffed to the rails of the yard. Clarence Welsby, looking very efficient in his uniform, chuckled as he recognised Summers. Barney cursed in mental agony as he stared at the man before him, but the curses choked in his throat and he could not ask the question that was struggling inside him. Welsby inspected the face of Mr Patterson and started back in astonishment. “Why, it’s Mr Patterson I What are you doing here P Who is this manP I thought you were members of the gang. I’m sorry, sir—Good Godl” An idea seemed to have struck him. He took another look at Summers, by the light of the moon, and laughed,uncertainly. Barney glanced sourly at the handcuffs held by two troopers, who were waiting the word to manacle him and Patterson. “ It’s a hell, of a joke, I admit,” he said. “ Who the red hell are you, anyway?” “ Who are you, is a fairer question,’ countered Welsby. “ I’m Sub-inspec-tor Clarence Welsby Hawke, of Townsville C. 1.8. I’m what they call a detective. What are you doing with th “ S Helfn’ ? ejaculated Summers, and collapsed into a sitting posture on the ground, where he clasped his head in his hands and moaned faintly. Patterson peered at Welsby for a moment and then threw back his head and roared with laughter. Then >he put a hand on each of Hawke’s shoulders and looked him in the face, with a long, keen stare of admiration and respect. “ This is splendid, Clarence. * I’d even arranged to let you escape when Barney made the capture. We hated to send a decent young fellow like you to gaol, when you were only the victim of bad companions.”

He giggled, spluttered, and then went off into another paroxysm of laughter. Presently he regained his composure. “So the famous Sub-inspector Hawke, whom I asked for in the first place, has been on the job all the time, disguised as an erring lad who had lost his character through dishonesty at a bank. There must have been a groat mind behind the plan ; your own, I suppose.” Clarence grasped the hand that was extended to him and shook it warmly: “ Apparently there was one as great behind your scheme, and I only just heat you by 10 minutes. We were hardly planted when we saw your party ride, in and hide. We thought _we were outnumbered, but w© determined to fight. . “ It was too late to go for reinforcements. You gave us a bad scare, Mr Patterson. I shivered while my men were putting the bracelets on the gentlemen over there, knowing that there were eight armed men watching us through that window.” Summers hero became articulate. He stood erect and shook hands, limply, with Hawke, and murmured what was really a gallant compliment in the circumstances: You were too smart for me, Inspector. I admit it. And I was gallopin’ to beat you home. But that cove that went back to tho North Coast was one too many for me. I believed he was Hawke, and that I had plenty of time. But, listen, do you know who killed Old Man Patterson?” Sub-inspector Hawk© shook his head. “ Not yet. I fancy I can get it out of these birds. One of them did it, and I never saw a thief yet that would not squeal to save his own neck.” “ If I give you the killer do I get half of the reward.” “ As far as I .am concerned, yes.” “ Take a squint at this.” Barney strode over to where the leader was handcuffed to a rail, stripped off his false beard, and revealed to the startled gaze of the Red Ridges men, Black, tho “ crippled ” storekeeper, glaring like a wild beast. He was no more a cripple than the upstanding Barney himself. In his big, bull-like voice he cursed _ them fluently, and the secret of his disguise was revealed—a crutch and a squeaky voice at the homestead; a beard amongst the duffers. “ That’s the dirty dingo that bushwacked Old Man Patterson,” said Barney, with a note of triumph. “ An’ I’ll prove it to you in the mornin’.” The sub-inspector a second pair of on the wrists of the leader, and removed the others. Then he liberated Gilligan and his -mates, who had been forgotten, and were gaping in amazement, lined up against the wall of the hut.

[Author of ‘The Vanishing Horsemen,' 4 The Valley of Lagoons,’ etc. Ail rights reserved.]

A BID FOR FREEDOM. 1 The greatest surprise of all to both Summers and Patterson was the introduotion by 'lnspector Hawke, of his plain clothes men, the two riders from Three Hills, who shook hands awkwardly, ,as though they had been caught doing something unlawful when they were described as two of the smartest' mounted policemen in the force. .. , “ Won’t nobody put flie out of my misery? ” Poor Barney was completely broken up. His criminals had turned out to be detectives. All his moves had been paralleled by Inspector Hawke and his men. One great satisfaction ho had, however. Only he had unmasked the murderer, and another item of joy came to him through the knowledge that his work had been carried out so well that he had not been suspected by the police of being other than a stockman. If their organisation was efficient his was even more so in view of the fact that ho had none of the resources of the police. Barney noted that when all the prisoners were mounted on their horses three of them were fastened together with a light steel chain and linked to one of the police horses with a handcuff. Black, apparently, was to be the special prisoner of the inspector, for he was fastened by his handcuffs and a chain to the saddle of Hawke. The murderer was mounted on tho big black horse, which had hsen the cause of so much mystery to Barney, and Hawke rode the leggy thing Barney had tracked to the creek when he first started to solve the mystery of the murder. These two wont in front, and the others followed in twos and threes. The moon had risen to the zenith and the little cavalcade might have made an impressive sight had there been anybody to see, as it wended its way along the narrow track through the mulga scrub. Through the shimmering, moonlit lanes of low trees went the procession, and the soft,'thud hooves accompanied the musical jingle of the troopers’ hits. Hawke could he seen riding ahead with his prisoner as they reached fhe'GffeaSy River crossing and. climbed up the further bank. A path there led to the wide stock route that went to Mulga West in one direction and. in the other, to Borderville. Just as Hawke and the leader of the cattle duffers, 20 yards ahead of the others, turned into the broad, grassy road that opened out from the narrow scrub track, it happened. The storekeeper had managed to get his hands out of the manacles and had been hiding the fact. Now he reached forward, snatched the pistol from under the coat of Inspector Hawke, pointed at his chest, and pulled the trigger, three times, at point-blank range. (To he continued.) Next Issue: ‘The Killer Trapped.’