THE SOLUTIONS OF RADFORD SHONE.

Marlborough Express, Volume XLII, Issue 103, 2 May 1908, Page 2

THE SOLUTIONS OF RADFORD SHONE.

tgOBLISHED »T SPECIAL AKRANGBMENT.]

Being Narratives by Officers of the Criminal Investigation Depart- ' ment, and of .the Provincial Police, in respect of dealings with the eminent Expert, Mr •Radford Shone.

COPYRIGHT.

Communicated to and edited by

HEADON HILL

CHAPTER TV. THE LOST HEIRESS.

(Continued.)

At that I had been at once sent for, hut from the lateness of the hour and tack of daylight it was little that I could do beyond calling at the mill and ascertaining from Vinte, the miller, that Miss Viola had never reached' there. His missis, he said, who/was mortal bad with pleurisy, had been wondering why she hadn't been. There was no more to do but to arrange for dragging' the stream as soon a& it got light,' for the road from tie Grange to the mill ran alongside it for some distance, and it was reasonable to suppose-that the young lady h»d fallen in and been drowned. , She had al,ways been keen on wild flowers, and there was a sight of for-get-me-nots on the steep banks that might have tempted her to lean too jfar* over.. I kept my thought of suicide, to myself, there being no evidence. ' 8b far Sue knew all about it, but she pricked up when I came to that «J»y's doings. Going to work at? •dawn, I had first set the drags to work, and had then made" a systematic search of the bank to try and find traces of the spot where she might;' have slipped. Mr Dickenson, pretty nigh frantic, was the*?^v&m,the first, and the SuperinteTadefctv u> ?fhom I had sent a message ojjFfer-night, arrived soon after; but n«>Jb- a trace of "any disturbance of thel bank could fee find. The men with^lrags did' ilp,' better,' and after breaffiistlvfr Dickeason decided to JJeife to 'London for this Mr Radferd''Shone, of whom he had heard gieat things., < , ' /--" the jriea'nwmle the search con- ' tinued'onland as well as under water, for I did not omit to inquire in the village, and als*>. at the railway station, for r ;n&w<3(.©f v the missing girl. When at last,; a tfttle after midday, Mr Radford .Shone appeared on the scene, he was good enough, to oomph-ment-me in a . patronising way on these inquiries, which he said, would save him trouble. ' For from the first I could see that Shone believed that Miss Viola had teeither been drowned by accident nor •intention, but was voluntarily absent-; ing herself. He cameto this conclusion after his interview with Mr Dickenson, at which he had doubtless, learned what was common knowledge in the village—that Miss Viola and Doctor Gray had been courting m defiance of old Peter's wishes. The young doctor, a pleasant-faced, genial fellow, had set up a practice in the place a year before, and had not only stolen our bonny Miss Viola s v heart, but by his cleverness And popularity had annexed a good proportion of the practice of old Doctor Carthew, * who had so far been the only medical man. It was known that old Carthew was so enraged at the loss of his patients that he hated his rival bitterly, and it was the last drop ml his cup when Doctor Gray was called in to supplant him as medical attendant at the' Grange. But, though Mr Dickenson's gout? •disappeared, and he swore by the .younger practitioner in his professional ■capacity, he would have none of him as a mate for pretty Viola, giving both the young people to understand that his heiress was destined for a higher match. Having/ made his money in trade, the old man had •hankerings , after the peerage, and ' had marked down a suitable husband for his daughter in Lord Crayleigh, 67 Oayleigh Priory. The girl was equally firm on her side, continued to meet her sweetheart," and was barely civil when the lordling turned up at the Grange. : After hearing this, or as much as Peter chose to tell him, Shone spent no more time by the mill-sCream, but started off into the village with a sort -of hanger-on he'd brought with him; and who is keeping a record of his •cases to put in a book. When Shone and this chap Martin came back to the water-side, they had a palaver •with Mr Dickenson, and the old man called me over. "Constable Vanstone." he said, and he was that angry his voice shook as he pointed to the punk, "you can stop that farce of drag-nets and grappling iron. My daughter has bolted with that scoundrel Philip Gray. Mr Shone has discovered that he went to town yesterday by the 8.50 slow from here and isn't back yet. She must have walked to the junction and •caught the noon express and joined him." "Can't Doctor Gray's housekeeper throw any light on it sir?" I ask-

"Can't or won't," said the angry <old man. "Says she doesn't know when to expect him back.' Mr Shone is off at once to trace him in London.? 1 And with my description of their hurrying off to get the* dogcart for the station, and of my determination not to relax our efforts in the stream, my narrative of the -day's_ doings came to an end. For quite a while after I had finished Susan remained perfectly still, eicept that she kept drumming the table with her finger-tips. Then she looked across at me and* jerked out in that snappy way of hers— "You're a bit of a muggins, William yanstone, but you're not such a muggins as this here Shone. Your sticking to the stream after he'd gone hot-footed after a trailed herring snows that. But you're neither of you right. Let me think a little." She scowled at that table, drumming away like mad, and then she raised her h9ad.

"What sort is this Radford Shone, anyway?" she flung at me.

"Very important-looking—a tall, thin char> in toff's clothes and a silk hat, and a condescending way of treating you, as if you really weren't 'dirt but ought to be," I answered her.

'"I thought so," sniffed Sue. "He*s .a: fool, that's what he is—to think our s^eet Miss Viola would hebave like a Ikitchen wench. And he'd be a worse fool if be knew her. And you've been ?tf&L got in a tangle about her drowning herself, too. Old Doctor Carthew

is at the bottom of this, or I'm a Dutchwoman. You just put on your helmet and button your tunic, while I run up and look at the kids, and then you'll come along with me." I knew her better, than to ask where, being sure that1- she would tell me when she was ready, and that wasn't till we were out in the quiet village street under the stars. Then she didn't tell me in words, but by suddenly stopping at Doctor Gray's house, which was only a few doors away, and pulling the night-belL "You let me talk when we get inside," she whispered while we waited.

It was the doctor's housekeeper, Mrs Brant, who answered the ring, and though the faithful old soul seemed, excited, and a trifle scared at the sight, of my uniform, she made no bones,.abo^^jmi:fetjngjis. ; . '/Yotff croup, ' Mrs VAn^bonp^t^^^p^she said, as we! V:''ha;ll. "Yes^; Doctor }^it^<oicie) -back fr<M vLbn- i 4<W 'IpiHi&uS ago) Walk into the sur- I ge.r"y,' please—ah! here is the doctor." For at the sound of voices the door of the dining-room opened, arid old Garthew's successful rival stood on the threshold, peering out at us.- He didn't look like a successful man just then,' with his face all haggard and , drawn, and he that nervous he i couldn't keep his hands still. It was as good as a revelation to me that whatever he'd been to London for it hadn't been to get married. No day- ! old bridegroom ever looked such a picture of misery. "Come in here," he said, beckoning us into the room, where the remains iof a "scarcely touched meal lay on the i table. , "I- can see that you do not i want the surgery. You are here about i this horrible business. Has there been I any discovery?" £sue looked hard at him, then at. 1 me. ' - , ■ 1 "Didn't I tell you Shone was a fool!" she exclaimed. Then, turning :to the doctor: "Miss Viola isn't found, but I—we and my husband,, that is— , are going to find her. When did you first hear,that she was missing from the Grange, Doctor .Gray?"' The question seemed-to me to disconcert him..V -'" ' ,/■•'' "Whsifl" reached home this evening,"/he faltered, after a pause, qiMning; I thought, before1 my wife's -alert, penetrating gazev^--' - - v . "Don't keep anythjifg . back, doctor," she urged/ "We are your friends and heirs. Mrs Brant will have told you what Mr Dickenson, believes, plummed up by his precious Paul Pry from London. Bill here don't agree with him, and thinks that Miss, Viola is drowned. I don't hold with either." The young fellow sank info a chair and buried hie face in his. hands. "Vanstone is right," he sobbed. "My darling girl is.somewhere at the bottom of the stream, and I—but no —for her, sake I cannot explain why I am so ; certain that she has been drowned." Then I held my breath as that wiry ■ little slip of a woman marched up and shook him by the shoulder. "That's as good as half a confession," she said. "If you don't give us the rest of it, I'll order Bill to lock you up this minute." "If you formulate the charge, Mrs Banstone,"" he said, looking up at her sullenly,. "I'll do my bes€ to meet it." "Being a fool," she tossed back at him. And with that quick change to wheedling that none knew better than I, she went on: "Now, doctor dear, won't you treat us as friends? Bill isn't here exactly on duty; anyway, I'll go bail he sha'n't blab anything to Miss Viola's hurt or yours." Then, bending over him, she added : "It's my belief this has been got up by Carthew—out of spite." Doctor Gray started up as if stung, and looked wildly from one to the other of us. "If that is so, where is Viola?" he cried. "If she is alive she is probably m danger. Where is what we want to find out," Sue answered. "We cani not do tHat without your help." 1 It only needed a glance at Gray to see that that masterful, spouse of mine I was to have her way with him. He was all of a tremble now, With the I new fear that she had raised, and he had to moisten- his- lips before he said: "Well, you shal} be told, and make what you can of is. But I think that your husband amLßadford Shone are both right. Viola did-run away to loin me in London, and she must have been drowned on L her way to the station. See here."

He took from his pocket this letter*; which he handed to my wife, and which I read over her shoulder:—

"Dearest,^— / "Dad has become unbearable., Go up to town by 8.50 to-morrow. I will follow by 10.30 to allay suspicionJ Meet me at Waterloo and take me to some decent lodging where I can stay till we can be married at a registrar's. Then you must go back same night, and join me when necessary notice has expired. ; "Yours, Viola." Gfray had been surprsied to receive such a letter j as there had been ho hint of any such intention when he had met the girl a .day or two pre^ viously, and it was not like her to take a i step that must finally alienate her from her father. They had both been hoping :to wear down his- opposition to their union in course of time. But, as Doctor Gray said, there was ; nothing for him to do but to obey her■! request, and he had duly carried out i the programme ;up j;o the point of meeting the train that followed his at the London terminus. Viola had not come by it, and he had met all the subsequent trains during the day with, like result till it^was too late to return. ,Of course' he could not teler graph to her at tHe Grange. Next, morning he had again met the first few trains at Waterloo, but there was no Viola, and he had then rushed

about in t cabs, inquiring for her at hotels. . There was just a chance that she might have come by alternative route to Paddington, alter naming the wrong terminus in her letter. Finding no trace of her anywhere, he ~had returned to the village by an afternoon train, and on reachig the station' had heard a confused account of- what-- had happened. Mrs Brant had furnished some particulars of Radford. ShoneV visit of1 inquiry, and hearing of the investigator's ominous insinuations' he had decided to preserve silenp3» ,about the letter. He could only"accept the discovery of the sunshade -iih» the stream as evidence that Viola had-" been drowned on her way to the station j but, for the sake^of her father's peace of mind, and to save her name from wagging tongues, he would bear his cross alone.

Sue had kept the letter in her hand during his excited narrative. "Are you certain that this is in 1 Miss Viola's handwriting?" she asked him now, giving the letter, back. "I really didn't" look at it' very critically," he said. *'There hasn't' been much need for lettefs\bejweeni us, you see. It is the paper 'sh#uses,> but—by Heaven 1" v j "The writing isn't hers," Sue \ finished for him. "I'll lay Doctor , Carthew wrote that letter, and that he's got Miss Viola somewhere, tight 1 as nails. Twig his game? The sly old fox counted on the very suspicion being raised that Shone has jpxit into Mr Dickenson's head. It did not matter whether you produced that letter and said you had not seen anything of Miss Viola or not. Either way Mr Dickenson would think you had hidden the girl in London, and your practice would be ruined." "But that means Carthew would have to detain Viola indefinitely; perhaps—oh, you can't think that— make away with her altogether!" Gray exclaimed in sore distress. "And what about the sunshade?" I put in, loth to part with what had seemed to me Buch an important clue. "You think Carthew threw it into the stream to make people credit the young lady with a piece of low cunning?" My wife withered me with a scornful eye. "No, I don't," she snapped. "I think she threw it in herself for a good reason, which you're soon to learn. Now oome along both of you, and do a neighbourly act. We'll go down to the mill and ask how Mrs Vince's pleurisy is." - (To be continued.) .