"FIND THIS MAN"

King Country Chronicle, Volume XXX, Issue 4833, 14 April 1936, Page 6

"FIND THIS MAN"

SERIAL STORY ...

By ADRIAN DE BRUNE. Author of "The Dagger and Cord"; "The Shadow Crook"; "Gray's Manor Mystery"; Etc.

CHAPTER IV.

Ivy lay back on the couch, inert and helpless. Yet her period of unconsciousness was very brief. She saw the electric light come, dispelling the darkness, and a shadow moved between it and her eyes. She closed her eyes helplessly. She had no strength to resist—no will to think or plan. What was to happen to her ? She hardly cared. All she wanted to do now was to sleep, and sleep would rot come—only existed that dreadful lethargy in which she seemed to hover between the living world and a world of dreams. She thought she was dropping—and she did not care. Then something caught at her, holding her suspended over space. A bright star gleamed through her closed lids, burning into the nerves of her eyes. It hurt, and she flinched from it. Gradually it drew further and further away, until it disappeared in illimitable space—drawing with it her remaining powers of consciousness. How long she slept she did not know. She opened her eyes to find the morning sun pouring in at the library windows. She looked around her vaguely. How did she come to be in the library at that hour of the morning ? She shivered in the cool air; then looked down at herself, covered only by the thin silk pyjamas from which the filmy bedrobe had fallen away. Then she remembered, and sat up. She glanced around her fearfully, and sighed with relief to find herself alone. Where had he gone to—the man who had met her at the door, suffocating her with the drugged cloth and carrying her back into the room ? She lifted her hands to her head; then looked at them curiously. When she had gone to the door to leave the library, on the previous evening, she had been carrying the photograph of the "unknown." Where was it now ? She stood up and shook her robe. It was not on the lounge with her. She searched the floor. The photograph was not in the room. Then—the man had taken it ! For the moment she was dazed. In some way she must recover it. But where was it likely to be ? Who had taken it ?

Not the man who had rung her up on the telephone the previous evening. Yet he had been the burglar who had stolen into the house and copied the fake photograph she had placed in the buhl box. „ Ivy knew that he had no.t suspected the change of photographs. He had copied the photograph and the letter and had carried his camera from the house when she had surprised him in the library. She had heard the front door clang as he had raced into the street.

That man had not lingered about the house to observe her movements. It would have been impossible for him to have guessed her objectives if he had. She had brought the pho-

tograph to the library and had copied it and the fake photograph with the door shut.

Then someone else was interested in the photograph of the " unknown." Who could that be ? She had a dim recollection that the man who had caught her in his arms and chloroformed her when she opened the door was tall and well built. She thought she remembered a head covered with a mop of rebellious brown hair bending over her. But The man of the photograph the unknown—had brown, curly hair; so Mark Kithner had deducted. But Ivy gasped. Was her assailant of the previous night the very man she had been instructed to discover ? Then he had taken away with him his own photograph ! Ivy laughed until she lay back on the couch exhausted to broken giggles. How absurd the thought was. Her godfather had ordered her to discover a man who did not want to be traced —a man who was prepared to break the law to prevent her discover ing'him. What could be the reason behind his conduct ? More, for what reason had .Basil Sixsmith laid his commands on her to track down a man who preferred to remain unknown ?

Again the girl laughed. The man had obtained possession of the photograph her godfather had placed in the box; but he did not know that but a few minutes before she had copied it. Ivy rose to her feet and glanced about the room, searchingly. Where was the camera ? She remembered; she had placed it in the cabinet. Was it there still ? She moved to cross the room, swaying dizzily and holding on to the furniture. At length she recovered her sense of balance. She reached the cabinet and found the camera where she had placed it. She carried it back to the couch and removed the spool of films. Later in the morning she would take it to town and have the photographs developed and printed. Then she would have again the pictured features of the man she had been ordered to find—the unknown.

She glanced at the clock. It wanted a few minutes to half past seven. Then, she had been unconscious for several hours. She stood up and began a careful search of the room. Had either of the intruders taken anything but the photograph ? So far as she could see nothing else was missing. But she had not looked in the buhl box. She went to the box and touched the spring. The lid flew back. Neither photograph' nor letter was in it!

For many seconds Ivy stood and gazed at the empty box. Why had the man taken the letter she had putthere. The lawyer had told her, and she believed that the letter contained nothing of consequence that Basil Sixsmith had not included in the few lines anagram or cipher. A movement outside the library door brought the girl to a sense of time. She went to the door and listened. A heavy, solid tread passed along the hall. Ivy knew that was Alice, the cook, going to her kitchen She opened the door and peered out. Faith, the housemaid, was not in view. Probably she was in the kitchen, joining Alice in an early morning cup of tea.

She crept through the hall and fled up the stairs to her own room. Only when she closed the door did she recognise that she had brought the buhl box with her. What did that matter now ? The box was empty. She placed it on the bedside table and crept under the covers. Before she could take any action she must wait for Faith to call her when she brought the morning tea tray. If the woman found her up and dressed she would be suspicious—and for the present Ivy could not afford to have suspicions around her.

The intervening twenty minutes passed slowly. At length the maid entered. Ivy wriggled impatiently while the woman fussed around the room. At last she was alone. She seized the few letters lying on the tray and tore them open to fling them to the ground. There was nothing of consequence in them. What was she to do ? True, she bad the roll of film, and on one of the negatives appeared the thumbprint of the man who had invaded the house the previous evening. But what could she do with that ? Could she plan to take the finger-prints of all the men she came across ? That would be an impossible task. Again she was back at the point where she had been stopped the previous day. No ! She was in a worse position. Then she had the photo-, graph of the " unknown" and her godfather's letter. Now both letter and photograph were missing but she had the roll of films containing the photograph. How, and where, was she to start her quest for these men ?

She slipped from the bed and went into the bathroom, still conning her problem. As she slipped on her bathrobe again Faith knocked at the door. " Mrs Western on the telephone, Miss Ivy." Faith spoke from' the passage.

Martha Western! Ivy gasped. What did she want ? Fastening her gown, the girl ran down the stairs to the library—to the telephone. " Ivy Breton speaking, Mrs Western." She spoke into the instrument, curtly.

" oh, Ivy, dear ! " The voice was gushing. "How are you this morning, after your very terrible strain yesterday ? You don't know how I felt for you. It was all so sad and solemn. I know how fond you were of dear Basil—and to lose him like that! After so short an illness, too ! Charlie spoke of coming round to see you this morning, but I would not let him. I said you must rest —have a good long rest before you saw anyone. Faith will look after you well, I'm sure. She thinks there is no one like you in the world." " Is there anything you want, Mrs Western ? " The girl spoke impatiently. " I'm just out of my bath, and would like to get some clothes on before I indulge in gossip." " Oh, how inconsiderate of me ! " The widow giggled. ' " But you will forgive me, I'm sure. I rang up to tell you of a most beautiful plan I have thought of. I'm sure you will Lke it. It's too delightful—for me, that is, of course —but I'm sure you will approve. It must be awful for you to think of living alone in that dreary place all these—" " Yes ? " Ivy had a premonition of what the lady had in mind. "Yes. I told Charlie of my plan when I woke this morning. Sent for him to come to my room. My dear, you should have seen him, with his tousled head and unshaven chin—and yet he looked such a boy—such a charming, dear boy. I really wanted to cuddle him, like I used to when he was a baby— "*

" And your plan, Mrs Western ? " Ivy suppressed a desire to yawn, loudly. " It's so simple, my dear. Just that you should pack up and come and stay with us." Mrs Western, made, a* pause, as if from the effort of speaking so directly; then continued vivaciously: " It will be lovely to have you —just you and me to ourselves —all day long. Of course, Charlie will only be at home in the evenings, you know. The poor boy has to work. I always say it does young men good to work—"

" But what of this house, Mrs Western ? " The girl asked innocently. '* God-dad wanted me to live in it for three months. You remember his will ? "

" Such a silly will, wasn't it, dear ? Of course one should not speak ill of the dead, but it was silly. To think of a dear child like you being left in that gloomy barracks for three long months ! If Basil had only spoken to me ! Of course I would have offered you a home—not for three months, dear child, but for ever and ever —" " But I must carry out god-dad's last wishes." The girl was laughing at Martha Western's assumption of ingenuousness. "He particularly wished me to stay here for three months."

" How thrilling ! " There" was a little trill of anger in the laughter that came over the wire. " But, dear, you can do what he wished you to do from here. We are quite close to the city, you know; and such a lovely bus service passes quite close to the house."

" And this house, Mrs Western ? " " Oh, that! Of course that can be sold." The lady spoke as if the thought had only just dawned on her mind. " Charlie will look to that. He is such a good business man ! I don't know what I should do without him! And he says that house property is booming now. Of course you will be much more comfortable here." " And with this house sold you can pay god-dad's debts ? " The girl spoke ironically. " How clever of you ! " Now the anger was showing in the widow's voice. " I shall be so glad to. do that. My solicitor told me that I could defer payment until I took possession and sold the place, but I don't like doing that. It would be such a slur on my dear brother's name. Of course I shall pay at once—l would do that in any case. It's only a matter of a few pounds—fifteen hundred, I believe that dear Mr Kithner said."

" I am afraid you will find that the debts amount to more than that, Mrs Western," the girl interrupted. " I had a telephone message from a man last night who claimed that god-dad owed him five thousand —" " What ! " There was almost agony in the exclamation. "What do you mean, girl ? The house and contents are not worth more than three thousand pounds." " Mr Kithner valued them at between five and six thousand pounds." " But—five thousand pounds ! Oh, that's impossible ! " " I am afraid you will find it very possible. But I really know nothing about the matter. When the—the gentleman spoke to me I advised him to communicate with you or Mr Kithner." Ivy listened for some seconds, but there was no reply. She laughed. Her news had greatly disturbed her godfather's half-sister. At the thought of the offer of a home she laughed again. What sort of a home would Mrs Western provide for her, once she got her out of the house ? In the hall Faith met her, carrying a flat parcel. # "A man left this at the door just now, Miss Ivy." Some instinct told the girl what she would find under the wrappingpaper. In her room she undid the parcel and found in her hand two

photographs—one of the " unknown " and the other the print containing the thumb-mark.

Who had sent the photographs back to her ? She scanned them eagerly, and searched the wrappings. There was not a mark to identify the sender. Yet she carefully folded the brown paper and stowed it away. She placsd the two photographs on the dressing-table, scanning them closely. Really the two men were not very dissimilar; yet she had picked the second photograph from a number, at hazard. One of the photographs pictured curly hair—that was the "unknown"; the other —well, his h,air could not be called absolutely straight. He looked " nice " —his hah looked nice—hair that a nice girl would care to rumple and pull. She glanced from one to the other of the photographs. A pair of nice boys, she decided. Two brothers ? No; they were not enough alike for that. Then she glanced at the clock. How she was dawdling this morning ! She turned the photographs face downwards, firmly. She would not look at them again until— Something had been marked on the back of one of the photographs. She bent to examine it more closely. Yes, there was a series of figures indented there, made with a fine, round-point-ed instrument. For a minute she puzzled to decipher them; then read: Ring 842675. CHAPTER V. Who had placed that number on the back of the photograph ? Ivy stood before her dressing table staring down at the card, very much perplexed. What did those figures mean ? Did they represent a telephone number ? That was probable. 842 G& Somehow the number seemed familiar to her. Where had she heard it before ? In what connection ? Finishing her dressing in haste, she. went down to the library and opened the telephone book. Silly! It was useless to search there for the number. The numbers in the telephone directory were attached to an alphabetical list of subscribers. She rang '• Information," to be told they could not help her. Why could they not tell her ? Ivy was angry. She dialled "Information " again, and a supercilious female voice advised her to ring up the number and ask who rented the instrument. Somehow the suggestion did not appeal to the girl. She glanced at the clock. "B " was a city exchange, and the time was a little after half past eight in the morning. A city number —that would be in an office. It was hardly possible anyone would be there at that hour,

Yet a spirit of perversity took the girl. She dialled the number and waited. Presently she heard the connecting click as the receiver at the other end of the line was lifted from the hook.

" Good morning, Miss Breton." « why—you know ? " Ivy muttered in surprise.

"Of course. I expected you to ring me up immediately you found the telephone number on the back of the photograph." " Then you are the man who—"

" Who assaulted you last night ? Now, why accuse me of that ? Should I leave clues behind me if I were the burglar ? " •"The authorities appear reluctant to connect a telephone number with a person." The girl spoke crossly. " They object to giving information to private individuals. The information you asked for from the exchange a few minutes ago would have been

furnished to the police immediately." " Yet my question was an innoceni one. But how did you know ? " " I suspected. Now you confirm my suspicions." The man laughed intriguingly. " You might just as well ask me if I have curly brown hair " ' "But—l only thought that! You can't read' my thoughts ! " The girl was deeply puzzled. Why—what—" "You must forgive me, Miss Breton." A hint of mockery lay in the pleasant voice. "I am only trying to impress you with a sense of my ability as an investigator." "A detective?"

" Some people very wrongly call them that." The man spoke sadly. "It is quite a mistake. Investigators investigate, but rarely detect. Detectives try to detect, but invariably investigate wrongly." " Then you are only an investigator ? " The girl gurgled deliriously.

"As you say—only an investigator."

" And you propose to investigate—" " If I say—you—will you be offended ? More, will you think me conceited—to imagine that I believe that I can investigate that most unfathomable mystery—woman ? Yet—" " You suggest investigating me ? " Ivy spoke whe/i the man paused, apparently in some confusion. " Would you object ? " His voice was now more confident. " Certainly. I do not like strangers interfering jn my affairs." " Am I a stranger ? " "Well—at present you are only a telephone number—B4267s." " And in the telephone directory you will find that number attached to a name a common one John Lome." " John Lome—investigator ? " " Not even that. The ' investigator ' is a secret —not for the knowledge of all and sundry who use the telephone directory. The ' John' has long since been absorbed into the more plebeian ' Jack ' by my friends." " Then, John Lome, secret investigator—" " Excuse me again. Investigator of secrets." " —will you please tell me who came to my house last night and copied the photograph of the young man contained in the buhl box ? Will you also inform me who chloroformed me and carried me to the couch in the library—" " Two separate people, please. My sins, alone, overwhelm me." " —and then took the letter and the photograph from the buhl box, and the photograph I was carrying." "Is that a commission, Miss Breton ? " " I shall require to know your charges, first." "Certainly. You will find them most reasonable. I will call on you in the course of the morning." " Is that necessary ? " " An investigator—like a detective —prefers to get his information firsthand." " Even a secret investigator ? " " More so." The man paused, and then continued: " There is the matter of the identity of the man whose photograph was in the buhl box. I think I should be instructed to investigate that." Ivy thought quickly. Was that the reason for the telephone conversation ? The man who had telephoned her the previous evening had been most curious regarding the original of the photograph. The burglar had copied the photograph. Someone.had taken the photograph from the house. Now, this man—(To be Continued.)