THE VANISHING VENGEANCE

New Zealand Herald, Volume LX, Issue 18577, 8 December 1923, Page 5 (Supplement)

THE VANISHING VENGEANCE

BY DOUGLAS NEWTON,

Author, of "Double Crossed," " Low Ceilings," " Green Ladieo," etc.

(Copyright.) CHAPTER I. The telephone bell rang. Its sharp: clangour cut short Otto ■ Rigg 3 study of the morning paper, and put an end to Joyce Allcyn's thoughts about the stranger. It also rang up the curtain 'of a reign of terror that was to sweep over the pretty countryside of Greenhayle — but neither Otto Rigg Dor Joyce could know that. Otto Rigg was reading the financial articles with .the satisfaction of a man who enjoyed watching the process by which his thousands were turned into tens o thousands. , He was a creature of solid and tremendous fortune, as his house, "ne oun > obviously advertised, but he also loose it himself. .. . \ , , ■ ... Very square, massive, and heavy, with a face as square as the rest of' 11 1?; "t impressed the beholder with a cold, bland sense of-ruthless power. Confronted by his grey and emotionless face, from which the little eyes stared straight and unwinking, one thought of him as ' a sort o graven idol of finance. Joyce Allevn, whose very distant relationship to* Otto Rigg had won for her the position of his confidential secretaiy, was conspicuously unlike him. , . , , She was beautiful in a candid and intelligent way. She had a slim, quick figure, features that one knew to be adorable though one could not say why, and a skin which, without suggesting any of the advertisements of beauty soap,.was gio^ing and exquisite. ■ . . Also she had no particular mme?t m the money articles, if she was waiting patiently with a pencil and notebook to take down matters concerned with them. She was, on the other hand, intensely interested in the stranger. , , . She was both attracted and puzzled by this man. Who was he? What he doing in Greenhayle? Why had he fcrst talked to her and then— ? way from Jjpj v ( , She' had met him last night, . She had been calling on Seward Gamlin for Utto Rigg, and just as she wheeled her 'bicycle through the gates of the drive Hie had run into the man., , . He had asked her at once if tn»s was Mr. Gamlin's house, and she had seen that he was a complete stranger, It was easy to mark the stringer in t*reenliavle, where every cottager and lotischoider was a friend—or enemy—and com- j ings and goings were rare. . Yet. and this was part of the puzzle, though she felt certain the man did not belowr to the district, he did, despite his initial question, know a great deal about Mr. Gamlin and his estate. When she had told him that this was Mr. Gamiin's .place, he had at once said: "Do you happen to know if he is at home?" ■ , T , . . " Oh, yes," she answered, Ive just left him." C( , He peered at' her closely She could make out his eyes, grey, steady, and curiously penetrating, under the brim ot a 'hat 'pulled well down over his brow : Does that mean he has his usual crowd of— bright friends with him? he asked. Joyce had laughed a little at that. Air. Gamlin's bright friends, his sporting pals, and ladies fii the stage were rather a byword. , " No." she answered, without stopping to wonder «t th> strangeness of the other's remark! " You'll be quite free of them. He's alone." ... „ " Thank you," said the man. "He moved on for a couple of paces, turned and called as though it was an afterthought. " He's in the study opening on to the bowls lawn, I suppose; ' She had answered " Yes" without thinking. because in a place like I Greenhayle people did walk in on .their friends unannounced, but later it seemed queer to her that a stranger would think of doing that. She thought a good deal of him as she went through a list of calls in and about the village. He had from the first rather attracted her. He had a quick-moving, strong figure, of the sort she < ? dubbed " clean." His accent ..had been pleasant, refined, and at the same time decidedly purposeful. She - realised that lie had a capacity for getting what he wanted out j of people, for he. had got quite a lot of information regarding Mr. Gamlin from her with but the barest possible effort. Of his face she had seen but little. It was not merely that his collar had been up and his hat drawn down, but he had managed to secure the shadowy side of her bike lamp all the time. „ All she could remember was a suggestion -of a lean face, curiously firm and Resolute, with steady,, grey eves. . t" ■■ She was still thinking of the man when; ah hour later, that is, about 9.20, she saw him again. - , She was taking a short cut across, the .bare common.. Her road had skirted the unkempt grounds of a melancholy and lonely house, called locally _ The Dark House, and was topping a hill. On the road below her, and plainly to be seen on the bare, ground under the light of the full moon, was the stranger. She had no doubt about, that well-set-up, quick-moving figure coming toward her. Indeed, she had intended to call out as she passed, asking him if he had seen Mr. •Gamlin. When there was about a hundred yards between them, the road dipped, blotting out him and the view. When she rose out of the dip the man had gone. He had vanished utterly. The road and bare common before her contained, apparently, no living soul. This was extraordinary, for there was no path he could have taken, and she would still see him if he i had crossed the bare grass. To vanish- like that he must have jumped off the road quickly, and hidden himself in some fold of the ground. t He had, obviously, deliberately' run away from her, and was hiding in the hone that she had not seen him. ' It was astonishing behaviour,' and Joyce was startled by it. She had been puzzled by it ever since. Why had the stranger run away from her? Who was he? What was he doing in Greenhayle? What kind of business could he have to make him act so suspiciously ' She had been-turning this over for the hundredth time, when the fateful telephone bell rang. Otto Kigg did not stir. Joyce answered, listened, expostulated, turned to her employer. "Mr. Gamlin's butler wishes to speak to you. He refuses to'give a reason or a message.. He seems upset." Otto Rigg rose, moved solidly to tho telephone, said, evenly and clearly, "J am speaking," and listened coldly, not a muscle of his square, greyish' face moving. " You are perfectly sure," he presently said over the 'phone without trace of feeling. "Oh, rigor mortis has already set in. . . Hut naturally you'd send a do.otor, my good man. ' . . Did he complain of anything '! ... Enjoyed perfect health as you sav. . . And a very strong man. ■. . Yes, I agree, but it sometimes comes to strong men like that.' . . r For Heaven's sake don't begin the whole story now. . . Yes, I'll come at once, and. Kvte, inform nobody else' of this—yet." Otto Rigg put down the telephone, and sat look in coldly and calmly at the wall m front of him. Joyce gazed at him with, startled and horrified eves. She had heard enough to know that Otto Rigg had just learnt of the sudden death of one of his closest friends, the man she had called on only last night. She herself was profoundly shocked at the unexpectedness of the tracedv. Otto Rigg's cold callousness ho-rified her.

In a moment he picked up the telephone again, and called up a number. "Is Mr. Shanly there?" he asked. "Eh, that you, Hugo? Seward Gamlih's butler has just 'phoned me that Seward is dead. Yes, I've said it plainlydead. My abruptness shocked you,? Mv dear Hugo, don't be silly. . . . No, I have no other information whatsoever. ..... There's no excuse for you enjoying one of your panics. . . . Death is a visitor that calls on all of us. . . It's called on Seward first, that's all. No, I haven't any theories or anything else,

until I've been to Seward's house. Yes, that's why I'm ringing you up. . . I'll call on my way. Yes, we'll keep this to ourselves for the moment. . . The others can hear and —later." ■ Joyce and her note-book travelled with Otto Rigg in his car. On the way to Hugo Shanly they passed the Bottom, the home of Henry Maker,, bat no call was made. This with Otto Rigg's determination to leave "the others" out of it for the time being, was strange. To Joyce it waS part and parcel of his curious and horrible attitude towards a tragedy so startling personal as to numb her. If there was a close-kit "set," it was that little band of immensely rich men known secretly to the rest of Greenhayle as "The Old Consolidateds." There was five of them, Otto Bigg, Hugo Shanly, Seward Gamblin, who was just dead, Hbnry Maker and James Fedden. Otto Rigg was their undoubted leader and master force. They were called "The Old Consolidateds," though not to their faces, because they had all been directors of that great but ill-fated trading venture Consolidated Exploitations. The term was one of affection, even pride. It was a tribute to men, who, in spite of the disaster which had overtaken them, had not been crushed, but had, with unexampled grit and cleverness, begun all over again and replaced the fortunes which they had lost with greater fortunes. No blame was attached to these five directors. They too had suffered just as the poorest shareholder . of Consolidate! Exploitations had suffered. All had been the victims of a rogue. To put it briefly, tho sixth director had absconded with practically all the available capital. He and money to the amount of several millions had vanished, into South America, it was thought, and neither had ever been seen again. The widespread ruin this piece of brilliant scoundrelism had brought about had moved the whole world to passionate indignation. But none of this had fallen on the five directors, who had remained to bear the brunt of their companion's ugly crime. As all inquiry tended' to settle the blame on the absconding director, so it tended to clear them. They had emerged from the bad business without a stain on any of their characters, even they had won sympathy and admiration as men who had stood fast though ruin and prison threatened them. The admiration was justified. All of them very soon had shown their capacity, and all had quickly made great fortunes in other ventures. It was, perhaps, only natural that they should all group their homes together at Greenhayle, round that of Otto Rigg, who had been the chairman of directors in their ill-fated company. It was natural, though nobody could say. that the five rich men were really good companions. V There was even, it seemed, <. sense of constraint and hostility evident when they met together. Well, maybe, that was to be expected, too., People grow away from each other, irritable with each other, as they go on. Yet the old bond bom of facing danger shoulder to shoulder held them together, though they had' grown to a distaste of each other's society. •*. Joyce thought that this might.be the explanation why "the others" were not informed of Gamlin's death at once. Hugo Shanly was .at his lodge gates ready for them. That was like him. He could not bear to wait. ? His long, excessively thin body always gave the impression that it was writhing with nervous apprehension, v- Deadly pale even as to hair and eyes, he had the nervous, sharpnosed manner of a white weasel. He scrambled into the car in a frantio manner, and began talking of Gamlin's unexpected death at once, as though it were a matter of tremendous suspicion.

I Otto Bigg said, "Shut up, Hugo." And in the v. hid screen Joyce saw him make a significant gesture. His head nodded towards the chauffeur and herself sitting beside the chauffeur, and it indicated unmistakably that Hugo was to be careful and not utter things that it would be dangerous for ihe chauffeur and herself to overhear. ■ ■■*.'

> , ! . ! CHAPTER 11. 'Jvytfe, Sifward Gamlin's bttler, would have been hysterical, but Otto Riga's cold eyes quelled him. ' He .told bluntly how he had come into the study that morning and found his master ? prone on the rug before tbe'fire, and dead. 'He had, apparently, fallen dead; as be stood drinking his night-cap of whisky and soda. There was the glass on the mat still unbroken. The body had been taken to 'Gamlin's bedroom, where the doctor was every now looking at it—nothing. : else had been touched.' The butler ! could not help finishing off with his. opinions as to the uhnaturalness of it all. Mr. Gamlin had been in* such good health. / J- "We all think that, Kyte," snapped Otto Rigg in -his cold Voice. "But the doctor may hatse a different story. Gamlin was ' alone . here during the evening—no visitors?"' •• "None, sir, , after Miss Alleyn left,", said the butler, and Joyce gasped. What about the : stranger? 4 Hsidn t he called after all? >» She ■ was. about Jto mention her encounter when 'Hugo Shanly suddenly darted to the fireplace, snatched up at piece of paper. r ;■ ' ""Otto! Otto he cried, excitedly. "Look—part of a. will form. Great Heavens, part of a will!" He thrust a fragrant of charred paper into Rigg'3 hand. Otto Rig?;'examined it so dispassionately that Hugo burst out. "Can't you see ? His will. "He burnt, destroyed, his will."• "Obviously," said Otto Rigg, coldly. His little boring eyes came round to the •butler. "Know anything about this, Kyte?" "Nothing at all, sir. Ton my honour." Suddenly the butler's hand flew to his mouth, he turned a frightened glance to Otto 2'i eg—curious how many were frightened, of that cold, emotionless man. "Oh, I forgot, sir." he said! "There's a note on his desk addressed to you. " He darted to ' the desk, ' brought' back an envelope, which Ottotßigg quietly opened. He lead the note inside—and, for the first time in her life, Joyce saw emotion on his face. It was no more than a sudden stiffening .of; his ;mouth, a sudden deepening of his habitual pallor, but it was unmistakable. Otto Rigg; the immovable was reacting under some sort of shock. For a full minute he studied the paper, then he handed it to Hugo Shanly. Hugo Shanly read it andyeljwd. There was no other word. He let out a little animal,yelp of fear, started back from the paper as though it had bit him, and let it drop out of his nerveless hands' As it lay on the floor, at his feet, Joyce read in "Gamlin's heavy handwriting the following words : ''■> . "Martin Stannard is back. He has been here." i- '>• A silence almost too painful to bear followed. Otto Rigp;, his composure returned, stared Itvel at Hugo. Hiiigo had backed to the club fender, his white face twitching, bis pale eyes ablaze with panic, his teeth' bared cornered weasel to the life. He made one or two ineffectual efforts to,'speak— cold voice of Otto Rig? spoke instead. ' ' ■ "Hold your tongue, Hugo, and stop being a fool," x he said, evenly. Then his little eyes, suddenly, sparkling and cruel, turned on the butler. "Will you swear that Mr. Gamlin had no callers last night—apart fionv my secretary?" "Why, yes,? sir— will swear it," mumbled the; Sutler, shrinking back. "I let nobody ill.'* There nobody with Mr. Gamlin when'l brought, in the whisky tantalus and siphon, as Z, always do before going to bed, and pobodv could have called, you see, for I'd locked up everywhere—even the French windows opening on to the bowling lawn there." Joyce's heart jumped as she heard that. The stranger had spoken of the bowling lawn. "You locked 'those windows," said Otto Rigg, evenly. " But they might have been opened again." " Yes, sir," said the butler, " but not shut again— Mr. Gan'.lin had been—been killed. If some one had come in he couldn't have got out leaving all the bolts and latches locked on the inside— not if Mr. Gamlin was dead." (To be continued on Monday next.)