STAR SERIAL

Greymouth Evening Star, 27 December 1928, Page 12

STAR SERIAL

“THE SHADOW CROOK”

By

Aidan De Brune

(Copyright)

CHAPTER X CONTINUED. ! The lights had not been seen. Again | she pressed the switch. Slowly, fearfully, she turned and forced herselt to look to where the body lay on the ground. Again a scream rose to her lips, to be pressed back by her trembling hands. On the bare boards of the room lay the body of her father, cold and lifeless. With a low moan she flung herself on her knees beside him. Had all her work and plotting resulted only in this? There was no need to search tor tne cause of his death. Directly over the heart was a short wooden handle, attached to a thin rod of blackened steel. Beside the body had formed a pool of thickening blood, meandering towards the door opening into the shop. For- some time Norma knelt beside the dead body of her father, sobbing bitterly. Then memory returned. She must not be found there. Stacey Cair Had in prison. To the police aM tlie’ public* -tins' poor dead body 'belonged to Frederick Mayne. She must still support the imposition and continue the work her father had started until his name had been cleared from the slur of theft. The rough-handled dagger attracted her attention. She bent closer, examining the weapon. Then, rising to her feet, she returned to the work-bench. A moment’s search, and she held m her hand a duplicate of the weapon. Her father had been killed with one of the slender, long-pointed files used in his trade. There were many .of them scattered about the bench. With shuddering horror she dropped the file, to pick it up again. It was covered with blood. She dropped it again and looked at her hands. They were covered with still moist blood. She must have got it on her hands when she stumbled over the body in the dark. With dilated eyes she looked round the room. On the wall, close to the light-switches, hung a broken mirror. She stood on tip-toe to look into it, dropping back with a horror-stricken cry. Her face was streaked with ghastly red —her father’s blood. What could she do? She dared not go on the streets covered with the blood of the murdered man. She dared not stay in the shop. At any moment someone might come down the lane and, attracted by the lights in the rear room, peer in at the window. The body lay in full view when the lights were on. Yet she must have light if she was to escape. Despairingly she looked around her. In a corner stood a small basin, and beside it a pitcher of water. In frantic haste she poured the water into the basin and scrubbed the blood from her face and hands. The stains clung closely, but at last slie was clean and dried herself on a whisp of handkerchief she took from her handbag. She must get away at once. Already she had remained too long in the shop. She must get home and think, and plan. In some way she must claim the body of her father. It was impossible to allow him to be buried under an assumed name; yet, if she did that, she might possibly endanger the plans formed when he had exchanged identities with Frederick Mayne. She must not abandon the work that lay closest to his heart. Switching out the lights, Norma felt her way around the room until she came to the door to the shop. There it was lighter and she was able to go direct to the shop-door. She had taken the key from her bag, and was inserting it in the lock when she heard steps in the lane. Pulling out the key she stooped down below the glass of the door, and listened. The steps came down from George Street. They stopped before the shop door. Peeping up, Norma saw two men peering in at the door, one of them in police uniform. They tried the door, to find it fastened, then went to the big shop window. One of them produced an electric torch and tried to flash the light into the shop through the dirty glass. It barely penetrated to the counter. Slowly the light moved from side to side, at length to disappear. The men /eturned to the shop door. “You are certain you saw lights here, Dennys?” Norma could hear their voices plainly. “Sure.” The man in uniform spoke. “I was going to come down and have a look when I remembered Old Warton 'often works back. Then the lights went out, and I thought I’d better ring up the office. Y’know, Inspector Mason’s interested in this place.” “Good man.” The plain-clothes man was silent for some seconds. “Best thing is to telephone to Detective Office and get someone down here with some master-keys. Just an ordinary, common lock, from what I can see. Say, Dennys,” as the constable was moving off. “Have a call put through to Mason. If he’s curious about this place he’d better be on the spot. I’ll watch.”

Norma heard the steps of the constable retreat towards George Street. She peeped out again. The plain-clothes man had crossed to the other side of the lane and was leaning against the door-post of the shop opposite. She remained hidden by the woodwork of the door, watching him. She was caught in a trap. For the moment she almost lost her splendid nerve. How was she to get away? Soon the police would return and open the door. They would find her and the corpse of her father. They would question her and she could not answer. They might—they would —accuse her of the murder of her own father!

CHAPTER XI Time passed all too quickly for the nerve-racked girl crouching against the door of the shop. Again and again she looked up at the stock figure of the ’plain-clothes man leaning against the door-post on the opposite side of the road, whistling a mournful minor air. What could she do? Frantically, she looked back through the darkness to where her father lay, praying for’ some power to help and guide her. If she could only think! She clasped her hands over her eyes, striving to steady and control her brain. All she could think of was the dead body of her father, stricken down by some unknown fiend. Who had killed him? Instinctively, the name of the Shadow Crook rose to her lips. He had watched her and her father. He had come to her and forced her to give him the key of the flat in

which her father lived. Yet, he had protected her from Abel Mintos. He had let her see he held some power over the malicious .Jew. Finally, in her home, he had called Mintos and struck him down, senseless. For what, reason? . Had the Shadow Crook, on obtaining the key from her, gone to the flat and forced her father to accompany him to the Carew Lane shop, to find the missing jewels? If so, had Stacey Cair found the jewels? Had a quarrel risen between them? Had the Shadow Crook struck down the old man, escaping from the shop with the long-hidden treasure? It was all possible. The various parts fitted. Norma tried to put these vagrant thoughts from her. She had to’ escape, unseen by the waiting police. Once more at home she. could reason out her theories. Then, if convinced of the treachery of the master criminal she would deyote^her - life.to, hounding him do wn^anfi..obtaining revenge for her father’s death. First, she must escape! And, opposite the door to freedom stood the bulky form of the police officer, watching and waiting for the return of his comrade with the keys from Headquarters. There would be no escape. Almost Norma gave way to bleak despaii. Suddenly, as by magic, her brain cleared and she could think—could reason logically She must escape! There must be a way! Lifting her wrist to the level of the bottom of the glass she peered at her watch. More than 10 minutes had passed since the two men had arrived at the door of the shop. Half the time she could rely on to plan some means of escape had elapsed! She must act, and immediately. Bending low, she stole to the door of the workroom. She remembered that on the bench was a box of matches. She must get them, for the plan c gradually forming in her mind would require some glimmer of light to work by. Yet, to reach the matches she must again pass the dead body of her father. Yet, it was for him she was working and planning. She could not allow police to enter the shop and find her beside the dead body. She must get away, if only for two reasons. She had to carry out the work he had commenced—the discovery of the lost jewels and the clearing of his name. She had to trace his murderer and deliver him to justice. Both goals could only be attained by preserving her freedom. The police must find no clue to her presence in the shop. She felt round the walls of the back room until she reached the workbench. Her fingers played lightly along its rough surface, seeking the box that might mean so much to her in the game of wits she was entering upon. They were close to where she had handled the pointed file, brother to the one that rested in her father’s heart.

The file! She must obtain that! She had handled that file, her hands stained with her father’s blood. Possibly it bore marks that might identify her with her father’s death. She must take it from the shop.

A ray of light filtering through the shop window, glowed faintly on the back-room wall. Norma turned with a start to find the constable had returned from the telephone. He, and the plain-clothes man, were again at the window, seeking to see into the shop by the light of the electric torch, while awaiting the arrival of the police from Headquarters with the keys. The light, faint and diffused, rested on the wall and lowered. For a moment it rested on the bench, faintly illuminating the box of matches. Norma reached forward and picked it up. She groped on and found the blood-stained file. With a shudder of repugnance she concealed it in her dress.

Waiting until the men moved from the window, Norma crossed the doorway to the other side of the shop and struck a match, shielding the flame between her palms. From where she stood it was improbable the men outside would see the faint light. Cautiously she let the dim ray of light play around. She was standing beside the doors of a cupboard, built in the partition dividing the shop from the workroom. She remembered that cupboard. She had laughed when her father had built it. naming it “The Cupboard with Two Doors.” A door opened into the workroom and another into the shop. It was intended to hold articles of little value left fdr repair, and designed to allow the jeweller to obtain them, when called for, without having to journey into the workroom. Both doors were closed, held by springs. Norma opened the workroom door and looked into the cupboard. There was a space under the bottom shelf about four feet high, sufficient for her to crouch in. She leaned forward and pressed the opposite door. It was held shut by a turn-button. Leaving the cupboard the girl stole cautiously into the shop to the cupboard door and released the fastening. Under the shelter of the counter she crouched and listened. The detectives would certainly search the cupboard. If they searched the shop first they would open that door. If they went to the back room they would open that door of the cupboard first. Would she have time to move through the cupboard —if she was certain from which side they would commence theiisearch? Could she arrange something to guide them to the back room? The grating of a key in the lock caused her to crouch lower behind the counter, in sudden panic. She had failed. The man from Headquarters had arrived with the keys. In a few moments they would find her and drag her to prison. Again sudden terror seized her, shaking her from head to foot.

“Wait a moment, Dennys.” An authoritative voice spoke. “This shop has a queer reputation. Throw your light around before we move in.” (To be Continued).