“THE HOUSE OF ROGUES”

Manawatu Times, Volume 61, Issue 189, 12 August 1936, Page 7

“THE HOUSE OF ROGUES”

(By Christopher B. Booth)

Instalment 21.

the balcony she had overhead a vloleht a quarrel between Hob and Strawn, there had been threatening words, the,, sound of a struggle. . . and then,, silence. Five minutes, perhaps a littleless, and there had been 'the shot as she was mounting the stairs. Then she had crept forward with fear retarded feet to find Bob beside Strawn's, body, the pistol in his hand. Bob had told her that he was lnno- ■ cent , of the crime, but . . . wasn’t it the natural thing to deny murder? Wouldn’t.he have hidden it, even from., her? t She was very positive that Jaggers.h the butler, would not have had lh time to escape; his retreat was cut off on two sides, she at the stairs and,. Bob at the other end of the - hall. There was, she told herself, just one 3 chanco of Bob’s Innocence . - ... . lhatj the shot had.bcon-flre<jby the threetingered man, that he had . through the book-room. “Polly I” Mrs Eastman’s exclama-f tion was both commanding and ques- a Honing. t: “Yes, mother.” s “What docs it all mean?” b “What . . . what does what mean?” The girl’s voice sank to a tragic wills-c per, fearing this crop examination. “Everything!” The mother’s voice: rose to a wild. “I know that there’sp something terrible. I can’t under-1 ; stand and ... I must know. You’ve f got'no right to keep me in suspense,n make me suffer." Polly's taut nerves gave way and 1 she slipped down to the grass, lying j a limp heap as she began to sob wildly and unco:*'rollably. “I can't tell you mother; I can’t tell t • . . anyone. No Shatter what hap-[ pens, I can’t tell. You . . . you don’tt understand; 1 couldn't make you un-i derstand. It was all wrong; you were wrong, I was wrong I” t Mrs Eastman knelt beside her ands patted her shoulder in an effort . toe soothe her, and at the same time a hor-p ribie terror clutched at her heart, 1 “You must tell me, child; I am yours own mother.' I have a right to know.” “I can’t tell you,” whispered Polly. “Bob . . . c At tho mention of Dolliver’s name, Mrs Eastman's lips tightened, and her dislike of the man flamed into a frenzy 1 of hatred. So that was it 1 Bob Dolli-\ ver had killed Strawn, had robbed her of a rich son-iu-law. Polly was pro- ■ teclJng him. i “You mean, Polly, that Bob Dolll-c ver ...” “No I” the girl sobbed. “I know lie i didn’t do it; 1 know he didn’t do it!”It was that insistence which people often use to make themselves believe l that which they doubt. “Even if he’ did. John Strawn was a beast ... a beast . . . a beast 1 I ... I had a right' to know that . . . what a ilend the l man was. He . . . he broke a caddy’s wrist because the caddy laughed at! him; he killed a horse with a hayfork because the horse threw him. Oh,i Merciful Heaven, >to think I almost I married a beast like that I” “You believed 'that? You believed those tilings from the mouth of a Jealous man?" Mrs Eastman’s voice! choked with indignation. t “No, mother; no. Bob .. . Bob was; too line, too noble to come ... to me! with tales, lie ... 1 heard him . . ."] She stopped suddenly, realising that' she was on the verge of saying too much. But she had already said 100 ’ much; her mother had shrewdness I enough to fill in some of the gaps. 1 “Y’ou mean, Polly, that Dolllver andi Mr Strawn . . . quarrelled?" " 1 “No!” lied Poly with rather too 1 much vehemence. Mrs Eastman thought swiftly. She had not dream-; ed the depths of Dolliver's love i'ori Polly until the conspicuous way in which the news of Polly’s engagement to Strawn had < nerved the young man at the brea, >t table that morning; she had thought it merely a passive interest which, unless it flamed into life, would remain dormant. She was reasoning things out; Realisation that he was about to lose Polly had inflamed Dolliver to a mad jealousy; he had gotten hold of the butler's gun, and had killed Strawn with his weapon. Polly had overheard enough to know the truth; perhaps she had even witnessed the murder I A fresh tingle of horror passed through her body. “Do you realise, Polly dear," she said gently, knowing that gentleness was the only tone to use In her daughter’s present state, “that a grave wrong is being done. If Bob Dolliver vvet’e as noble and line as you think him to be he would not keep silent and let another man bear suspicion for a crime that he has himself comitted.” "But I tell you Boh didn’t do it; I tell you that lie didn’t 1” cried Polly, her hands clenched. “If that Is true," Mrs Eastman said v “he has nothing to fear in tolling the truth. No brave man, my dear, would seek safety for himself at the jeopardy of another’s-liberty . . . his very liie. Something must be done; unless Bob Dolliver tells tho truth then you.. ’ ” “Mother 1 You don’t know what you’re asking. I ... I can’t be a.traitor , , . to. the man I lover” CHAPTER XXI. Back-in the house, after the departure of Polly and her mother, for the lawn, Mrs Vera Kingsiake sat for some minutes, making neither move nor sound. Her eyes were upon Bob Dolliver .who had begun to move restlessly about the room as if his miud were labouring 'in the throes of some tremendous inner excitement. Paul Grimshaw took out his cigarette case and tl" ’ cigarette trembled slightly between his lips as he applied a match to the end of it. Despite the brightness of the sunlit day, the big old room was plunged in half-shadows; the match-flame played about his Angers and Vera Kingsiake noticed a swelling discolouration about the ipiddle digit. "You’ve hurt ytrarself, Paul,” she said absently. “Eh? Oh, that 1 Nothing serious.' Slammed the door on it this morning; bad forgotten about it in all this excitement. A bit painful at times but nothing to bother about.". Bob Dolliver abruptly wheeled across the room and headed for the door without’ saying anything. ’ Paul stared after him arid then shook his (head slowly. “Poor Bobl" he murmured. “He’s

ill cut up about this thing.. Naturally le would 'be —his finger-prints on the ;un. But it’s ridiculous; the missing sounterfeiting plates prove who did 'or Uncle John.” "Is it —so ridiculous, Paul?” “Eh?” “The plates might have been taken a blind, don’t you think?” “Oh, I sayj ,Vera!” he J protested. 'You don’t really think that Bob—” Vera Ivingslake’s lips, set grimly. “That —that 'little push’ you were ;oing to give him; I’ve been thinking ;hat you may have pushed him—too aard. What did you say to him anyiow, Paul?" Paul inhaled deeply and Vera 'cached out her hand. “Let me have one of yours,” she said; “mine are upstairs." She took i cigarette and lighted it. “What was It you said to him?” she Insisted. “Nothing much," he answered, frowning. “I didn’t get very far; he idmitted that he loved Polly but didn’t have enough money to marry her. He seemed quite reconciled to Strawn aaving her.” Vera Kingslake drew in a deep puff of smoko and exhaled it slowly. “How these do steady one’s nerves! So he was quite reconciled was he? Perhaps it seemed that way. We saw how ‘reconciled’ he was at the breakfast table when Strawn announced that :ic and Polly were engaged." “Great God, Vera!" cried Paul. ‘You’re hinting that Bob killed Undo John 1” “Am 1?" “Yes, and I don’t like to hear it; it’s unworthy of you, Vera. Why, confound it, the first thing I’ll know you’ll bo accusing me, thinking that I did it to get his money.” “No, I won’t be doing that, Paul. First, you weren't in the house and, second, you wouldn’t have had tho nerve. You’re really a coward I think. No. I’m not hinting, Paul, but—” Her mouth set into a grim line. “I want tile right man punished.” Paul stared at her for a moment. “You thought a lot of Uncle John, didn't you?” Tears filmed the woman's eyes. “No one will ever know how much I loved your uncle I” sho answered with a low-voiced tenseness. “And that was why you wanted me —to help me make a match between Bob and Polly—so that Undo John couldn’t have her." “I’ll never rest, Paul, until I see the right man punished; I can do that —for him." “Even though Unde John didn’t care the snap of ids finger—about you! You’re a queer woman, Vera." "Perhaps all women are ‘queer’ when they're in love, Paul ... I don't believe Jaggers killed your unde.” Paul toyed with the Ups of his moustache. “Somehow I don't think so either,” ne agreed. "I’m sticking to it that the three-fingered man did for Unde John." “ But how did he get Jaggers’ gun?” “Oh, what’s the use, Vera? All these questions just lead us around In circles. I’m not a detective. I—l’m going to get a drink." And he got up abruptly from the chair and left Vera Kingslake alone In the room—alone with her thoughts and suspicions. Something like five minutes passed when Jasper Baskerville came in, he having just finished Jhe removal of tho dirt which his face and hands had accumulated in helping- t nmy Oliver establish the fact that lire book-cases concealed no secret exit. “Won’t you .please come over here and sit down," said Vera; “I was hoping that I would have a chance to talk with you—alone.” J.B. was equally pleased, remembering his resolution to study this woman at closer range—-the woman whose room was so near the study In which John Strawn had been done to death. He sat down in a chair near her, regrctling that . he’r , face . was so shrouded by the shadows; he wanted a better chance to study her. “You have something to tell me?” be Inquired. Vera leaned forward. “What do you think,” she demanded. “Do you think that Lite right man has been arrested?” t “Ho is, up. to date, Mrs Kingslake, the most obvious suspect. I would not care to commit myself further than that. So far I have only the physical facts as 1 have them to go on. Of course, strictly speaking, I have no official interest in the murder except as it effects the missing plates. I want to help solve the murder because 1 feel that only the solution of that can answer the question—Where are the plates?” Vera looked disappointed. “<OIi, I see!” she murmured. “Then 'you think the stealing of the plates was—the motive?” "Up to date, madam, that is the only motive that has appeared.” “Wouldn’t it he reasonable, Mr Baskervillc—you see, I caught your name —that the plates might have befentaken to—to divert suspicion?" J.B. gave her another quick glance, a little surprised that this woman, just a little while before in the clutch of a wild, despairing grief, should have advanced this conclusion which showed some calm thinking. . “It’s reasonable," lie admitted. “What I said was that, so far, it is the only motive that has appeared. Motive is the big thing to look for in any case of murder; no one kills without motive.” “What motive could Jaggers have had, Mr Baskerville?” “So far as I know, only to get the counterfeiting plates. Wo must not forget that he is a man with a past previous record who has spent l.me in prison; to such a man the plates and the banknote paper, the two big essentials to printing a large amount of bogus currency, reaching into tho thousands, might be considered a’ temptation. Money!’ Ono of the greatest motives, madam.” “I—l feel that it is my duty,” Vera said, after a pause, “to tell you that there was another man who. had a motive.. It Was—-jealousy.”. Baskerville waited without . interruption; he was .thinking that she herself might have v the ..same motive—jealousy.:, There crossed' his mind tho, suspicion, that.she might be trying deliberately "to confuse the trail In order to divert suspicion from her-