VAN WYCK MASON'S CASTLE ISLAND CASE CANDID CAMERA CLUES

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume LXXIII, 12 June 1939, Page 11

VAN WYCK MASON'S CASTLE ISLAND CASE CANDID CAMERA CLUES

by HENRY CLAYOIPSON

CHAPTER XX. Thanks to a gift, acquired many years before, Roger Allenby was able to wake himself around seven and change the dressing on a forehead which felt sore but which was badly swollen. After first removing from the floor all traces of his blood, he employed rough mathematics to estimate the bullet’s course and was able to deduce that the sniper had fired from a slope opposite Freebooter’s Hall and slightly to the left of his window. Lips set, he arranged a small picture over the bullet hole and descended into the garden’s perfumed freshness. As he searched, he thought of Barney. A hard case, Barney Grafton, for all his bluff heartiness, else how could he appear smiling among his guests with so crushing a burden on his conscience? In all probability he was sleeping quite soundly—in the fashion of truly ruthless men. Odd, though, how fond he was of Gail and little Peter, his stepson. Bending low, Allenby commenced to search the ground and before long found the place from whence the shot had been fired.

Concealed under the lower leaves of a morning glory vine climbing the trunk of a fidelwood in a riot of blue tones, he discovered a small brass cylinder, that of a .22 magnum rifle. As if to mark the sniper’s ambush beyond question an African daisy lay clearly outlined against an outcrop and fresh after the cool of the night. No others grew near. Very carefully Roger Allenby picked up the blossom Grim satisfaction filled him. Perhaps this case wasn’t going to be so tough All that remained was to find out who owned the rifle and then ask Grafton to explain Judy’s curt message on the cards. Had Creepy’s weapon been highpowered or had it not? With this in mind he sought the rear of Freebooter’s Hall. Here a negro gardener was humming softly as he weeded the kitchen garden. “1 was looking for Creepy,” Allenby said. “Dunno where he is sir. He might be down by de boathouse. Dat’s vhere he lives.” “How did he make out with the rats last night?” “Pretty good sir. Knocked off three of de ugly pests. He's mighty fine shot, is Creepy. Dat’s de Indian in him.’ “Where was he shooting?”

“Right over dere, sir. The gardener indicated with a spatulate forefinger. “Yonder, by de hen house by de ol’ slave quarters. Dere’s a whole lot of holes 'round dere.’ It required a comparatively short time for Roger Allenby to ascertain what he wanted, and soon he was hurrying back to the living-room, the richer by one bullet dug from the henhouse’s coral wall. “Morning, Major,” Ward greeted him in the hall. “You’re up early.” When he noticed the bandage he started, “Good Lord, what’s happened to you?” Allenby managed a convincing shamefaced grin. “Clumsy bit of work.

Slipped getting out of the bathtub and whanged my head against the wash; basin. The wash basin won.” “Looks like it,” Ward sympathised. “Most bathrooms are regular mantraps. Fellow I know in China was a pilot in the war, knocked off eleven Boches and one bright day he slipped like you must have—broke his neck in a flash.” “What kind of a break was it?” Oh, a simple fracture cf the Atlas vertebra.” “Sounds very unpleasant. Is Grafton up yet?” “If he is, 1 haven’t heard a peep out of him.” Ward stepped closer and inquired in an undertone, “What do you make of Terry James?”

“Don’t know.” Allenby was deceptively curious. “What do you mean?” “He’s supposed to figure in our deal in a small way—but even so I don’t want anyone around who isn’t on the level.” Ward paused, frowning on the amber showerbath of sunlight beating in from a nearly window. “I saw him come in last night pretty late.” “Did you?” “Yes. He’d been talking and quarrelling with Barbara, his sister, where I couldn’t help hearing them. Sounded as if the row was over money.” “Then Terry isn’t as well off as his sister?” Ward's teeth glistened to his rather i boyish smile. “Not by a long shot! The James’ inherited plenty of blue blood, but very few yellow dollars. Barbara got her money through Winslow, her j first husband. He was killed in an auto | smash just a little while after Peter I was born —so Barney tells me. Rej markable woman. Barbara.” Ward musi ed. peering out on the placid waters ot j Castle Harbour. “She's one of those ' people who are so goody-goody that it I hurts. Means all right, like the kid who | loaded his father’s gun on the Q.T. I I say. have you noticed the cold shoulder ! she’s got for young Gibbons?” i “Why, yes,” Abenby admitted. “What ■ 1 seems to be the trouble?” ! I “T can tell you,” the other said with 1 sudden bitterness in his tone, “She doesn’t want a plain, self-made man in • the family—only Codfish aristocracy. : Just because young Gibbons has come ; up from scratch, she —well —she can’t I see him for dust. I'm crazy over Gail myself.” he admitted in a sudden burst of confidence, “but I wouldn’t mind losI I ing out to a real guy like young Gibi bons I know what it is to start from , nothing and kick the world in the pants ’ until it gives you what you want.” “How does Gail feel about it?” “She’s a queer kid, doesn’t open up

1 much —at least not to me.” Ward coni fessed. “Take a look at that mouth of hers: it gets a pretty hard expression . sometimes. I don’t think she particularly relishes her stepmother’s butting i in. telling her who is eligible and who t isn’t.” 1 “Then why doesn’t Gail tell Mrs Grafl ton to run along and roll her hoop?” “Can’t,” Ward grunted. “Ever notice. Major, that money’s pretty important f in this life? Gail knows Barney’s up to his ears in this Rio Loia deal and—” i “Hi, there. Buck!” From the top of the steps, Gail waved them a gay greet--3 ing. “Come in and have some breaki fast. We’ll let the slowpokes show up l as they please.” When Allenby stepped into sight she paled and her hand flew

up to touch a little cedarwood brooch at the throat of her dress. “Oh, Major, wha—what’s happened?” Resigned to repeating his fabrication 1 many times, Allenby offered the bath- ‘ tub explanation, then dismissed the sub- ; ject as quickly as he might. But was it natural for Gail to go so deathly white over a patch of court-plaster? An impressionable girl might, but still— In the distance a motor boat’s ex--1 haust was muttering louder and louder. Frowning. Allenby glanced at his watch. Could this be Inspector Boyd already? It was only half-past eight. Gail, following his look, smiled. “Oh, i that'll be Creepy bringing over the mail. 1 He didn't go over last night. The Dart , needed overhauling.” Ward was obviously hungry. “Come ■ on,” he pleaded. “My stomach’s ’phoni ing up to see if my throat’s cut. I • could eat my weight in wheat cakes.” By executing a quiet retreat into the • library, Allenby was strategically locatl ed to inspect the mail when it first was ; ; brought in from the servants’ wing.