THE QUEST OF THE BLUE STAR.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVI, Issue 14250, 22 December 1909, Page 5

THE QUEST OF THE BLUE STAR.

' ./Rushed BY special arrangement.

mmip * ■*lv' • ■'■ " - " : ' BY JOHN OAKLEY. "" li l&jior of "The Hampstead Mystery," "The Hlm Blackmailer," " The Great Craneboro' Conspiracy," " The Essingham IsKft/. Peerage," Etc., Etc. ' [COPYRIGHT.] ill * CHArTER XVI. SitfV ' I (iO TO LONDON'. i I ieft Thorpe Heston that evening, and -ent back to the Priory to take up my teljiflideiico with old Cramer and Spidkins. . I think the colonel on the whole was glad to me go. Not that ho had any personal objection to myself, but somehow or other I was associated in his mind with the mysIfceJT of Dorothy's disappearance. I will not .'jay that ho attributed it to me, or blamed i' mo for it, but Ido think that in innermost heart he wished that he had never seen " ie - W-lsTor mv part I had little difficulty in erecting a theory to nuvt at least some of my problems. They all centred round the ■'Blue Star—and Cruden. SifeMarmaduko Dunthorn© had been murdered because of that—by Cruden. Hugler ; ;doubtless had met him, and had accused . him of the assassination, only himself to : jneet a similar fate. Hugler had been mur- • < j eret l — Cruden. Dorothy had told

Cruden of the discoveries I had made, had repeated to him the stories I had told her. And she-—had he also murdered her? /'X'S It was only too obvious now that the figures I had seen together in the moorland 'mists were those of Dorothy and this Man ,'of Mystery with whom she> wasshould I gay, in league? 1 would not confess that olto myself even yet, but I cursed myself long " and "bitterly and in almost demoniac lan- . guage that I had not- gone kick to them V , then and there. .■V'"'Where was she now, and why had she ' : gone? Perhaps she had told him that she meant to make full confession to me, and / he had removed her in order to prevent it, ■ /How, in that case, had ho removed her? "Spidkins," I said, a couple of mornings after I had settled at the Priory, "I want ' you—" "Yes, air." I "To come with me— "Yes, sir." ."To London." "Right you are, sir. I'm ready at any ||| : time,''; ■ |P|" You. know London, Spidkins?" If "I oughter do. I was bom there." ■ "That .is not an entirely convincing reason. Do vou know Poplar?" "As well as I know my own face." "Good. Ever heard of a publichouse v'oiled the Cooper's Arms?" c-"The Cooper's Arms," he said, thought- - My. "Let me see, there was the Red ",'Cbw, the Lord Craven, the Elm Tree, tho -ho, yes, I remember it now. It was old Josh Mittins' place, but '© 'ung 'isself to the .ballisters, and then it was took byl fcrget 'is name, but I know 'e'd long black whiskers." I f ,"Ssfl **Good," I said. "Now I want you to j,® there and find out for me whether a • I nan named Cruden is known there at all. , Here are three sovereigns. If you find any- | thing out, or if you spend up before you discover anything, come to me at 144.*, Spene:>ley Chambers, in Kingsway" "That's the noo roadrignt-e." j "Trot over to Hillcester, and get off by the first train that goes. But you must keep me dark, and say nothing of Tides- ": worth nor of Sir Marple." And Spidkins departed on his mission. I can hardly say why I selected him for ) it, unless it was that I was at my wits* I end and desperately inclined to attempt anything that offered even remote possibilities. I followed him by a later train, ttd I shall not easily forgot the sense of liautterable restfulnees that came over me II w .1 turned once again into my own familiar looms. Something of the darkness and tra- ' gedy of the feverish period I had just been \ through seemed to pass away, and I almost «v! believe that had it not been for Dorothy I should have left. Tidesworth to settle its own problems. But, alas for the somewhat cowardly peace I coveted, I was through her linked up with the series of dark mysteries by ties that could not be severed. And I knew that I must go through with my task to the very end. no matter whither gf or to what it might lead. r Nevertheless, I went out to dinner and enjoyed it. I even put in an hour at the j|jAlJiambra afterwards. And then I stepped Wiind to a house in one of the streets ;running from Leicester Square. I was carp Tying my cryptogram with me. I could at fill events obtain help there. If I could J unravel " that alphabetical tangle I might find therein a clue. If there was a solution S|t6lit ! I knew one man who could find it— ,Voluscza, a Polish refugee, who knew more about ciphers than any person living, and had a unique collection of the literature of the subject. I had once done him some Considerable service, and I knew he would Spend sleepless nights and stretch his brain breaking-point over this puzzle if he ■ ithouqht that by so doing he would be payjf ing back some instalment of his debt. "Voluscza." I said, laying the paper before him, " I want to read that." |pf;l told him just enough of the story as jg,was necessary to show him that the Blue 13 Stir, plaved "some part in tho conundrum. And I left it with him, telling him I would || Will round next day and talk it over with HSe I "'* it ' It would be a little before one o'clock tint I reached my rooms again, and there f|l found Spidkins curled up on the doormat in the corridor, serenely slumbering. Hallo!" I cried, as I bent down and gently shook him. . mm!" he responded, as he got sleepily I'M; his feet and stood blinking in the electric gUfWiwhich I had switched on. • I opened the door and piloted him inline. "Well?" I queried. "It's all square," he said; "I've found to right enougth. 'E lives _ at 18, Pon•onbv Gardens, Iri 'Ammorsmith." ."Spidkins," I said, "if it is true I shall give you a sovereign for yourself." . "It's true," ho responded. I've seen Blil'Aiid, wot's more, I've seen 'im bew Where?" iilp®' Tidesworth." I felt myself growing excited. If that Weve true I was indeed getting near home. |§|"That'fi it," the boy went on, " I've met I J®. in Tidesworth. 'I've seen 'im afore,' I Bays to myself as soon as ever I set ©yes w 'im. And I soon recollected where. Tad been staying at Dvkes's, the pub, you Wow, by the cross-roads going down to iStJrW' I think they wills it the Earl o' little Inn." jj But how did you discover him now?" wkl'j-writ 'im a letter, and I went up to TOBflPri as was serving be'ind the bar. fe™yove,' says I, 'I've got a letter 'ere **»chap as is named Cruden.'" W«'r ,Dt where did you write that letter?" 1 Wv one of them" there newspaper shops. Jant'g common enough. You pays a penny mlr'v sheet of paper and an envelope and a IfTP of ' the ink. ' I don't know no Mr. pWoen,'.' she says. And then she perceeds 7,give the show away as a woman always It®'" ' You are evidently well acquainted with Spidkins," I rejoined, with a Sk-I Ml that," he" replied. "'You can BfflPStlt 'ere if you like,' she says, 'and if of that name should call in 'e can lISIiIM* 6 r ote -' So then I knew she was Bjjfflgi'liw.when she said that she didn't 'JJ 0 * n °Cruden. 'No,' I says, 'the bloke {Viit me says as I must put it into lif"w-u 8 ' and '"> other.'" "Ifilt - was in this letter?" I asked, ' <4pf and just a little amused. jkJ »' WfWI just that '0 was to be at f'llP?" on Saturday wivout fail. 'But ; it 'MjS? "Meant ' or '' m to see at all. But 1 if I tll t to it an' couldn't 'elp it, I put 1 SWuil ia . 10 a * it wouldn't appear too silly. |S'^V' r ® n t'out, seeing as I couldn't get 1 Sttdtl! 6 v Ut of , ' ie barmaid, and going * back 1 come across a boy who J,

was cleaning some pewter pots. I tells 'ima yarn about a bloke wiv a white board as 'ad give me the note and five shillings, and I offered 'im 'alf to tell me. That was where I struck oil. The kid had been sent messages to Cruden 'isself, and 'o told me at onco where 'c 'ung out. I went off, and while I was 'anging round 1 onsonby Gardens I saw my man conm out. ' 'Ullo,' I said to myself, you ro a Tidesworth chap, and I'll bet a dollar you're the man as I want.' So I let im go, and then I tips and knocks at the door. *Yus,' they told me, 'Mr. Cruden does live'ere, but 'e's jest gone out.' So I come on ere, and you'd jest gone out too."

CHAPTER XVII. FACE TO FACK AT LAST. I made arrangements to cAll on Cruden— at least on the man I supposed to be Cruden. for you must recollect that I was still in doubt as to the identity of Hugler's mysterious leader with Dorothy's midnight triend. That was very quickly set right. Asi 1 stepped into his sitting room—having bribed the maid with a gift of evidently very unaccustomed gold— I saw that the man before me was none other than he whom I had seen with Dorothy in Marmaduke Dunthorne's house, and with her again in that ruined cottage. I was face to faco with him at last, but. what I meant to do, or what use it was likely to prove, I had not the slightest idea. Indeed, as soon as 1 had crossed the threshold and the matter was irrevocable, I began to realise that I should have done better to set a watch on turn while keeping myself concealed. He was seated at a table writing, but as I entered he looked up and smiled in very evident lecognition. Obviously I was no stranger to him. Ah! he cried, "the amateur detective. Have you discovered the secret of tho Dunthorno murder?" " es," 1 said, slowly, after a momentary pause, "I fancy that I have that by the tail. J I congratulate you. Has the murderer been arrested yet?" " Not yet," I returned slowly, not without admiration at the cool and unconcerned manner in which he faced it out. "I am interested, you know," he went on. cs > I assented, with a touch of grimness, "you are interested." "And"you have comeby the way, why have you come?" here, I asked, with a suddenness I hoped might startle him into some unwary admission, "where is Dorothy Spedlowe?" What should I know of Dorothy Spedlook ' h6 asked ' bendin S or » me a quick " Do you know, I began slowly, " that I saw you and shetogether—in Marmaduke Dun ,home s house—on the night of the murder? t " Yes," he assented, " I have heard that. 1 s as told that you said you had seen us. „ o , Dor <>thy told you," I put in, quickly. him met you on the moors" (( , Never mind who told me," he broke in, b® point is that you have a cock-and-bull story as to liaving seen us through a ! v d ?.T' for one » don ' fc believe that." '2*o? ' I queried, anxious to let him have his say. No. .My own idea is that you were m hiding in that house, that you saw mo enter and depart, and that then you shot Dunthorne. For all I know you and your baronet friend may have been in league. He may have been there, too." I "You don't deny that you were there?" 1 I asked. " Well, it isn't worth while to you. But to others—of course I should deny it. I should tell them that you had invented the story in order to■" " Just so," I interrupted, " but the fact is that just now I am not interested in the murder but—well, I want to know where Dorothy Spedlowe is. But let me tell you. It is not so simple as you seem to think. You went to Tidesworth in quest of the secret Of the Blue Star." " What do you know of the Blue Star?" he demanded, quickly. "Hugler," I went on, paying no heed to his interruption, " was on the same errand. Marmaduke Dunthorne had solved the mystery of the cryptogram." "1 begin to have more respect for your capacity as amateur detective," he said. " You had an idea of stealing his secret from him and annexing the treasure for yourself. And that was why you shot him." " Why I shot him!" "The man, Hugler, accused you of that crime, and you shot him in order to keep him quiet." " I seem to have conducted quite a general slaughter," he said. " Are these my only victims?" "Unlessyou —murdered Dorothy as well." " I don't know what you mean. Why do you keep referring to her? What has she to do with it? You and she are en-gaged-—I know that— why do you keep dragging her name in now? Ah, I see it." He bent forward gazing into ray eyes with quick and angry malevolence. "lou, too, are seeking the secret of the Blue Star. You thought I had taken it from Dunthorne. and you made love to Dorothy in the hope of getting it from me through her." ' I winced a little at the shrewd blow. I could not deny that I had really gone to Ihorpe Heston in the first place in some vague and shadowy hope of entrapping Dorothy. That was when Marple Dunthorpe's plight was my first consideration. But I had not " made love" to her, as he had put it with vulgar bluntness, for that. And, indeed, my love had been an obstacle. I dared not say nil I knew because of the part Dorothy played in it. I could not hunt Cruden down as I would for fear it should involve her as well. And yet, sooner or later I should have to take that risk.

" I am not hero on the business of the murder," I said. " I want to know what you have done with Dorothy Spedlowe where she is? If you do not tell me that—" " I don't know what you are talking about. It is Greek to me." " If you do not tell me that, I shall send for the police and hand you over to justice as the man who was in Marmaduke Dunthorne's house on the night of the murder." "Thatwell, wouldn t that involve Dorothy?" "Not unless you involved her?" There was a long pause. He evidently was thinking hard, and so was I. And I was more and more regretting the fact that I had come, that I had, so to speak, shown my hand. The only result of this interview would be to put him on his guard. " I have some papers in the next room," he said at length. "If you will wait a minute I will get them. They will interest you. They will make many things clear." Ere I could prevent him, even if I had had any desire so to do, he had stepped through the doorway behind him, closing the door noiselessly. I Raited quietly enough for about fivo minutes, then with growing impatience until a-quartcr of an hour had elapsed. But at that I stepped across the room and tried the door through which he had gone. It was fast locked, bolted possibly, for I had heard no sound of a key. What steps I might have taken Ido not know. Certainly I was angry enough to have broken the door down. But just at that moment there came a rather timid knock at the other door.

I opened it to sec a little girl of some ten years of age handing me up a note. "This is for Mr. Lamder," she said. " I am Mr. Lamder," I responded. She thrust the note into my hand, and ran quickly off. I opened the missive hurriedly. It was written in pencil on a postcard which had been doubled in two, and placed in an envelope. I read it through with mingled anger and admiration. " My dear Mr. Lamder, —You are a fool for your pains, and 011 quite the wrong scent. I will tell you three things. I did not shoot Marmaduke Dunthorne. I did not shoot the man Hugler. I do not know where Dorothy is. And I will add a fourth. If I find that through you Dorothy has come to any harm, I will hunt you down mercilessly and kill you like a rat.—R.C." It was bluff, I knew, but it was good bluff, almost magnificent in its brazen impudence and imperturbable assurance. For the moment, however, that was not the thought that was uppermost in my mind. I had found him—the mysterious Cruden— had seen him—l had spoken with him—but I had not gained from -the interview the slightest gleam of light upon the dark problems which I had become involved. (To be continued dailjrJ