“John Smith-Blackmailer”

Manawatu Times, Volume 59, Issue 223, 24 September 1934, Page 9

“John Smith-Blackmailer”

■CHAPTER XXXII.— (Con tin ued.) “I guessed as much,” said Peck, beaming with, satisfaction. “Here is the story of that crime as I reconstructed it. Sydney .Harrup expected you; he had planned the trap. He meant to kill you.” Colonel Gretton nodded. “He certainly tried. I probably owed my life to the fact that he had been drinking heavily. He shot and missed me.” “And you grappled with him, and after a struggle tore the gun from his hand. In doing so you fell or struck your head against something and lay for a while stunned.” “You’re right,” exclaimed Gretton in surprise. “And that is what always bothered me. Did the revolver go off in my hand ns I slipped unconscious to the floor? Did I shoot instinctively? I have no recollection of it.” “You did not,” said Peck emphatically. “As you went back tiie revolver flew from your hand—fell near the door. It was picked up by the man who murdered Sydney Harrup.” This was a solution that had never occurred to Roddy. “Good Lord!” lie exclaimed softly. “Who was it?” breathed Rachel, tense with excitement. “I think I could hazard a guess," said Colonel Gretton. “Why that possibility never occurred to me till this moment I can’t imagine. It was Wicks, I suppose.” “Both Williams and his wife, who witnessed it, have admitted the truth,” said Peck solemnly. “Wicks belonged to a race-gang that had a grudge against Harrup. lie was there that night to make trouble, when chance threw this opportunity in his way.” “That explains a lot," said Gretton musingly. “I often wondered why Williams and his wife should risk so much to shield a stranger. It was iheir only way of keeping right out of it themselves. When I came to my Senses Williams was bending over me. Probably he had already discovered the diary in my pocket and removed it. I was still rather dazed, didn’t realise what had happened—allowed them to hustle me out into the street, and it was only next morning I saw from the papers that Harrup was dead.” “I’m curious on one point," observed Peck. Presumably you did not see Wicks at all?” “No.” “Then how did you come to guess correctly just now? How did you discover that the nephew referred to in the newspaper reports later changed his name to Wicks?” Grelton smiled across at Roddy. “I had the full account of the Crime Key Circle's activities from my fellow conspirator.” “Oh! of course,” exclaimed Peck. “You both very cleverley concealed the fact that you did actually meet on the first evening of Chester's arrival at Sandilands. It was then the plot was hatched.” “Pat knew later,” put ’in Roddy. “So did my Aunt, I had to tell them. The shock to Pat would have been terrible otherwise, and I thought we might need Rachel’s help to hide the Colonel. Rut he insisted on going straight to town. I drove him to Carlisle, after lie had shown himself on the sands, of course.” “The only mistake in your excellent plot, Chester, was ” “The stick,” chimed in Roddy. “I didn’t twig it myself until you pointed it out. I ought to have done, for, of course, the stick was still in the very place where we had left it.” "Precisely,” agreed Peck, beaming. “Ebony is not always black, but it does always refuse to float in water. If Brand had been on the case he would have 'been a little curious.” Colonel Gretton then took up the tale of his adventures. “I went to Brighton and stayed at the Clarion, posing as aan invalid. There was little fear of being recognised after ail those years, ’but I took precautions. I pretended to recognise Williams and bis wife, saying that I was connected with the turf and had occasionally been to Harrup’s flat. They didn't like it, but I gave them no peace with my gossiping talk, and I learnt more from their lies tjian anything else. The one vital thing I did discover was that their daughter Edna had turned out a bad lot, and had gone, not to Canada, hut gold-digging on the Riviera. A photograph album did the rest.” “Good,” approved Peck, “I watched your movements with interest. My room was No. 13. Perhaps you wondered why No. 13 was never io be seen. However, what interests me most is how you fixed on Armstrong. For myself 1 had excellent cause. It was as plain as a pikestaff.” “And I didn’t see it,” said Roddy ruefully. “It ought to have been pretty obvious. When you were telling us all exactly where the papers were the,-doors were open. Armstrong heard what you said, and, quick as a thought, slipped into the

(By Lindsay Hamilton)

Instalment 27.

study, grabbed the box and hid it m the shrubs outside.” “Precisely,” said Peck, “and from then on th’tefe was only one game toplay—to kill suspicion, and at the same time scare them into ill-consid-ered action. It succeeded, hut I was helpless. I never told you, but Vera was considerate enough, to bring me a steaming cup of ovaltine as I retired to bed. It was drugged. But how did you light on Armstrong?" he asked” of Colonel Gretton. “I can claim no particular astuteness,” he answered diffidently. “It just came to me, a sort of inspiration. I had been trying somehow to connect him up with the case 'and couldn’t fit him in satisfactorily, when it occurred to me what a marvellously efficient and simple method of blackmail it would be to lend the money with one hand and lake it back with the other.” “Yes, it was clever, but they mistook their man,” • agreed Peck, grimly. “The average blackmailer is a clumsy fellow. He is content to snatch a little or a lot. where he can. Armstrong wanted all, and from a weaker man, would have got it. A loan, a mortgage, another loan, a further mortgage and so on, until you were squeezed dry. He would then have foreclosed and '.stepped info your shoes, taking your property, estate and income for life.” Gretton proceeded with his story. “I became bis shadow, with the results you know. Thank God you stayed my hand In time.” “It was a near thing,” said Peck. "None of the keys I had brought would exactly fit. I had to Ale one.” “Thank Heaven you were in time," breathed Rachel fervently. “Since you went, Hugh, I haven’t known a moment’s peace of mind. Roddy did his best to reassure me, but I guessed what was in your mind.” “You’re my good angel,” said Gretlon, soberly. “I was afraid to face you—l might have weakened.” There was a long pause, and then Roddy demanded that his curiosity be satisfied with more definite details of the inception of the plot. “One can only hazard opinions,” said Peck. “Edna, as a child, no doubt overheard her parents talking. She was prococious and retentive in memory. It was no coincidence, I firmly believe, that through her in Airs Gretton’s way. She had married Armstrong, and together they hatched the plot for depriving Mrs Gretton of her fortune in precious stones, always with an eye to the possibilities of blackmailing the Colonel. She discovered the existence of the diary, but safe-smashing was not in her line. Armstrong, under cover of Tinsley, sent for Wicks, who received his orders from a client named ‘John Smith.’ Actually the blackmailing letters were typed by Vera in Armstrong’s house. All went as planned with the exception of one awkward complication. Wicks discovered Vera’s identity and saw his chance of making far more out of the game than John Smith had bargained for. He threatened Vera. She put, him off with a little money and advised him to go to Tinsley and Brisson. He died as you know, and you received that warning letter Colonel. Armstrong wrote it. which accounts for the difference of style you noted. That is the story as I interpret it.” “I think you are right,” agreed Colonel Gretton. His eyes twinkled suddenly. “Poor Lena, she must have had a harrowing time of it. She will be glad to know that Williams discovered his mistake soon after dismissing her. He acted hastily without properly going into the matter.” “I think she was opening her heart to Doggart coming along the road,” said Roddy with a chuokle. “I heard him grunt with some gusto that she would be a ’rcg'lar handful’ hut his hand was ‘bigger’n that'. ” Late into the night they sat talking, recalling eveSy incident of the past few clays and discussing it from every angle. The shadow was lifting. To-morrow would dawn on lighter hearts, eager with the joy of living. “Tell me one thing,” demanded Roddy of Simon B. Peck, and his laugh of irresponsible mischief was good to hear. “W-kai does the B. in your name stand for? it might be —well it. was rather uncomplimentary, _so I won t mention it. I’ll grovel in apologies instead. Anyway, Bloodhound would not be amiss; or perhaps Belamy, ’a good friend.’ ” A pleasant child-like smile spread over Simon Peck’s face. “Neither of those,” he said mildly. “My father was a. remarkable man. He christened me ‘BeliaF—after a dear friend, perhaps.” Roddy roared his appreciation. “Colonel, the decanter,” he cried. “Pass It round. I’ve a toast for you .... Air Simon Peck —the Blackmailer's Belial!” THE END.