THE KNIGHTSBRIDGE MYSTERY

Hawera Star, Volume XLV, 2 January 1926, Page 10

THE KNIGHTSBRIDGE MYSTERY

BY CARLTON DAWE

CHAPTER XX. PENBURY CLAIMS HIS THIRD VICTIM. Involved in the intricacies of the which he had set himself to accomplish, Samuel Barden still clung to it with all the tenacity of a laborious mind. Though not smgulaih gifted in any way, he was not without a fa share of average intelligence. More over, the hope of succeeding wlier. Penbury had failed was the spur to continuous endeavour. And there was always the faith of his superiors m him to be lustilied. It had given him an eminence of which he had dreamed, an 1 to maintain which he now bent all his energies. Visions of still higher advancement were looming on the horizon, stirring in him an energy whie was almost superhuman. He must succeed; there was no other alternative. But the path to success, except m a few isolated cases, is strewn with nianv forbidding obstacles. He encountered them with every step lie took. Whe, nor actually employed running mthei •md thither, lie spent long hours in seclusion with his thoughts, constructing re constructing, until his brain remed and his heart almost failed linn. let he had never a doubt that the sec.e. would be found among those people whom Penbury was so assiduous m running down. , . rm For what were the mam facts! I ho girl, a loose-liver, a dope fiend, must oil uecessitv be in touch with those who supplied the drug. Now no one knew better than he the class of persons they were; aud though it did not necessarilv follow that a destroyer of souls would with equal impunity destroy a body, there were among them those who would think as little of the one as the other. But while the one spelt dan ( , or and dreadful punishment, the other was bevond the law. This distinction would ‘make the most reckless pause. Vet. driven to extremes, what would not men do for money; what had they not done? She was in possession oi valuable jewels and a rich lover; probable also of a large sum of ready money. Tn fact the cash some of these women handled was a biting eommentarv on the amenities of our advanced civilisation. Two or three hundred pounds in loose notes would be no prodigious sum for such a woman to leave about the flat. Now supose someone had chanced to hear of this? What if she had flaunted her riches before her companions in the theatre? They would talk of it, naturally, if only to sneer in envy. The whisper, spreading, might reach the ear of some desperate person. And there was always the jewels; they were a certainty. What cash she may have had in her possession at the time of her death no one knew; but the jewels were taken, sufficient in themselves to relieve the murderer of any temporary embarrassment. All this was quite clear to Samuel Barden, and though it did not take him far on the road to a solution of the problem, it permitted him to focus on several suspicious members of the community. One by one he took them, the rich lover first. ‘ But beyond such information as might be extracted from him, one reluctantly had to pass him by, though Penbury should have insisted on his attendance at the in quest; another of those blunders for which he could not forgive that person, nor find an adequate excuse. Penbury had declared his interview with the' man to be quite satisfactory, though Barden found no satisfaction m any of his rival’s declarations. Yet for want of further evidence he put Frankford aside for the, time being, reason suggested the utter unlikelihood of his being the culprit, with this, proviso: many a man, fearing publicity, had killed his mistress when she became a danger. Constantine Levita, Quinccy P. Brookham, Nobby Wang, James Wrightson. Little by little he reduced his list of possibles to .this precious quartette, lingering longest on the porter. Though doubtless the others were capable of any outrage, there were certain circumstances in regard to them which could not be entirely overlooked. Wrightson, however, was different; opportunities for ever in his reach; chances denied to others. Added to which was his impatience under cross-questioning; evasions, twistings, a multitude of subterfuges to avoid di rect or informative replies. So sure was Barden that the porter, if he had not actually committed the crime, know who had, that he had gone to tie extreme of arresting him on suspicion, reluctantly to release him after a close examination. Thereafter James Wrightson became an outcast of the Surrey-side slums, bis heart full of bitterness, his reason warped.

But though Barden was forced by circumstances to let him go, he was not wholly convinced of the man's inno cence* The knowledge that Wrightson might bo innocent reduced him to despair, and to a half-hearted admission (strictly to himself) that Pcnbury had not done his work so badly after all. Was this atrocious crime to be added to the many unsolved mysteries? He even * went so far as to set the police to watch the police; dog eating do,;. From the shadower Penbury be came the shadowed. His visits to the city were known; likewise something of a certain flat in West Kensington. Did this account for the inspector’s lax methods? A woman in tow —and such n woman. Here was food for reflection; to make one whisper strange thoughts to oneself. With every step ho I<ok Samuel Barden floundered deeper and deeper in the morass of conjecture. When a woman came into the case, a man might expect an infinite variety of evolutions. Was she to be a peg on which he might hang another of Peubury’s delinquencies?

So far there had been little success to his credit. Though frankly dissatisfied with Penbury's methods, he found that he was merely going over the around which his rival had already traversed. As may bo imagined, thin occasioned in him feelings of anger not unmixed with despair. The deeper his investigations proceeded the more was he convinced, unwillingly, that Penbury had r.ot teen so casual or remiss in his duties as he had fondly hoped. No doubt, had he been given the case at first hand, there would have been a different tale to tell, while certain people might have been taught to regret their deviation from the paths of rectitude Why had Penbury protected them, am 1 one in particular, This was the problem that drove him almost frantic. Nor did the fact that Lcvita and Nobby Wang were in custody allay suspicion or soften asperity. Their arrest was

(Author of “Desperate Love.” “Euryale in London,” “Virginia,” etc.)

bis business to see that such actions did not nullify tlie greater issue. Though not unaware of Barden s activities, or impervious to them, 1 enburv went his way with that quiet determination which was characteristic of him. The coming of Marjorie into his life had brought it, new and momentous issues. He had not thought this thing possible; even nou was at . loss thoroughly to comprehend it Ut all the problems which had confronted him in a by no means inactive life, this seemed the most difficult of solution Curious beyond all conception, he regarded it as something in the nature of a dream or phantasm, which would surely vanish with his awakening to reason. The woman whom he had first regarded with such uncompromising harshness, to fill so much of his thoughts! Surely this was one of those inconceivable perversions of nature which added to the mystery and wonder of life? .. He found the thought of her mingling with other and sterner thoughts, if not entirely dominating them. through her was he to find that happiness he had missed? Was happiness to be found in her? Or a still greater question more complex, more involved: was there to be any sort of happiness for him? Could he brush aside thought as one does a cobweb; make a blank of the past? Dare he dream? Problem on problem, confusion desperate. Yet what man may not be permitted to dream; who so poor that this great boon should bo denied him? In our dreams we shut the gates of misery behind us; see hope shining and gilding the murk of the present. It would be a dreadful thing if one could not dream. But there was yet work to do, stern work. Ambition no longer urged him; pride in success was like the vainest of vain shadows. Ho knew not that what he had attempted was beyond his power; beyond the power of any man. It needed a demi-god, and he was no Hercules to cleanse the Augean Stables. Yet ho would do his little; must do it. There were others who looked to him for salvation. This also was among the most curious of happenings: that he should now admit the ardent wish to serve those whom once he would have destroyed. Subject, this, for much thought. So he pursued his secret ways, lie and Ginger Hair. Devoted was Giugei Hair. No rebuff weakened his respect and admiration for his chief. Penbury had taken him out of the ranks and attached him to his person. He had no great intelligence, this Ginger Hair, but he was brave to rashness, devoted beyond suspicion, possessed the faith of a little child; would unhesitatingly have faced the greatest dangers at the word of command. A sturdy column of a man against whom one might lean with a sense of security.

He, like other clever persons had reduced the possible murderer of Poppy Wilton to four. Two were already safe under lock and key, and two at large. Black Q. still openly went, ms brazen wav impervious to the fate that hung over him; but Wrightson had disappeared, his place of hiding unknown. With the,arrest of these two one great scheme of his chief’s would be accomplished, and out of that issue wmuld emerge one still greater. Then would bis idol be justified of all men. But the negro, if he had not abandoned his evil courses, employed miraculous cunning in concealing them. Y et, whether they bring money or pleasure, such courses are not easily abandoned.. Penbury knew enough of human nature to discount all thought of reform. Black Q. was committed to a certain mode of life, and nothing but detention within four walls would break him of it.

One night, not far from Pino’s, where Quincey boasted of earning am honest living, lie met his Waterloo. Penburv aud Ginger Hair, lurking in the shadow on the other side of the street, saw the black coine along with a woman. They stopped at the corner, arguing, but for once Quincey P. spoke in w T hispers. The woman handed him something, receiving something in return. But before they could separate Penbury and his companion confronted them. Touching the black on the arm Penbury said: “I want you, Brookliam.” Ginger Hair had already seized the woman. Even in the indifferent light one might have seen the w r hite of Quincey’s eyes as lie opened them wide in amazement. Quickly lie swung round raising his gigantic fist, but before it could descend the crook of Penbury’s walking stick connected "with his ankle, and the next moment he was on the broad of his back, Penbury on the top of him. A sharp scuffle and Quincey was handcuffed. “Get up,” said Penbury.

With apparent difficulty the big fellow rose, and though a little dazed at the suddenness of the assault soon regained his accustomed self-possesion. “That was darned smart, inspector,” he drawled. “But what’s the bright idea, any how?” “I warned you.” ‘ ‘ Shore you did, an ’ I alius thought it mighty considerate of you. But that little trick with the cane is somethin’ noo to me. I admit it was real smart, inspector. Looks like one up to you.”

“No drawing blank this time, Brookliam. ”

“No; I guess it’s a fair cop. Maybe I shall be lookin’ in on my ole mammy sooner’n I expected.” “But not immediately.” “Wall, some folk is born unlucky. Maybe I’d ha’ done better in the ministry after all.”

Here Ginger Hair thrust the woman forward, and Penbury recognised in her the girl whom he had last seeu in the house in Fulham.

“I’m sorry it’s you,/’ lie said. She was crying bitterly. “What you want Maudie for?’’ Q. asked. “She ain’t done nothin’.’’

“Merely as evidence against you, and one other, who is still at large.” “You mean Jimmy Wrightson?”

“I’ll get him.” “See as he don’t get you first. He’s gotta a reel grudge, inspector, an’ lie’s seein ’ red. ’ ’

By this time a few loafers began to congregate, but with the advent of a uniformed constable captors and captives moved off. There was no hope for Quincey P. Brookham now, which he ultimately realised. The quip died half-uttered; his bubbling well of philosophy dried up. In the language of his kind it was “a fair cop.”

Somewhere about noon on the following day Penbury paid another visit to Finsbury Pavement, and was at once shoivn into Eustace Frankford’s private sanctum. Frankford greeted him anxiously, though not so nervou*].

on former occasions. Something of the ohl steady look had come back to his eyes, though there was still much apprehension in the glance that met the inspector’s; apprehension and something more. That secret which Penbury had whispered to him when they last parted had altered entirely the relations between these two men. They understood each other. ‘‘ I arrested Brookham last night, Penbury saiu. “He will give you no more trouble.”

“How am I to thank you?” “Merely did my duty,” the other answered coldly. 1 ‘ So you sav,. ’ ’ ' “We’ll let it go at that.” “1 don’t want to let it go :4 that.” “Much better. Enough hhs been said and done. One more job, Mr. Prankford, and I have finished.” ‘ ‘ Finished. ’ ’

“I am thinking seriously of resigning from the force and going abroad.” “And the criminal ” “Seems to have eluded me.” “Will you let me be your friend?” The solemn eyes were almost intolerably solemn; a . dreadful spasm, as of pain, shot over the hard dark features.

“I’m sure you mean it the right way but it can’t be.”

“Then will you shake hands with me? ’ ’

“Why yes; why not?’’ Just then’ the door opened and in came.jChristin'e -Prankford with Briar. Cranbourn at lier back. When she saw who was with her father she hesitated fearful. The man with-the “eyes that eat you up”; eyes that had reminded her of the Wolf in Red .Riding Hood! ‘ ‘ Mr. Penbury, this is i)iy daughter Christine. You have met before.” Penbury,, name of dreadful ! omen! She knew ail about him from Brian, what lie was“doing, wliat he had promised. Had he succeeded? ‘‘ I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Penbury,” she said, advancing to him with outstretched hand. He favoured her with one of his rare smiles, and as she looked into his eyes they no longer reminded her of the - wolf’s eyes—of the eyes, that “ eat you up,” but rather the eves of a man who had suffered.

“Mr. Penbury has just told me that he arrested Brookham last night,” Prankford explained. “Yes!” said Cnristine trembling, but asking many questions in mat word. Again Penbury smiled at her. “There is nothing further to fear from him.” “Then mother will never know?” “Why should she?” “And you don’t believe, Mr. Peuburv, that daddy ” “I know he didn’t.”

She could have hugged him. The wonderful man, the magician who with a wave of his wand dissipated all gloom! “We’ll celebrate,” said Brian, “let us all go oiit to lunch. You’ll join us. old chap?”

Penbury shook his head. “Not today, thanks; perhaps another time.” “Please do, Mr. Penbury,” Christine entreated; “we shall all be so delighted. Daddy—insist.”

But insistence was of no avail. He had brought happiness back to this girl’s eyes and was content. When he was gone she turned to her father. “Why didn’t you ask him?” “I saw it would be useless.”

' ‘ Brian, he must come to our wedding. 1 insist on that at any rate.” He laughed. “I believe you’re hall! in love with him already.” "I believe I am. And he isn’t a bit plain; and his eyes are not in the least like the Wolf’s eyes. How could I ever have thought such a thing. They’re wonderful eyes; wonderful, beautiful eyes!” (To be continued.)