THE GOLDEN BAT.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXI, Issue 18730, 9 June 1924, Page 3

THE GOLDEN BAT.

BY FRED M. WHITE. Author of "The House on the River," . "The Crimson Blind/' n Th« Green Bungalow," &c.

(Copyright.)

SYNOPSIS.

Lytton Barle, head of the Secret Squad at New Scotland Yard, welcomes Harry Ray back to England. The latter tella him he is on the look out for Edward Keen, the man who robbed him of something like £40,000. This man, a master criminal, is in London. Lytton Barle proposes that Ray should take office in the Secret Squad. They are up against the cleverest sans of burglars so far known. He enquires whether Ray is interested in tropical butterflies. Harry acknowledges he is; that he came across the great entomologist-, John Everard Moon, at San Salvador. Moon is hunting for the rare species known, as the Golden Bat. Barle tells him that, until recently, Lord Barlington had one in his library, but it had been stolen by this gang of burglars. Ray asks to be notified to thd police in the Shepperton district, and to be allowed a free hard for a month. He takes his leave. During the summer Ray had met a young lady at Hunstanton. Norfolk; they had become mutually attracted. Suddenly she disappeared. Three days before the story opens he had seen her crossing Resent Street; he followed her to Silverdale Mansions, tipped the porter, and came away with the knowledge that the girl was living under the same roof as the man. Keen. Later he telephones Keen_j explains that he wants an interview. Keen invites him to dine on Friday night. As he enters the drawing room at Silverdale Mansions a girl rises find greets him. It is Angela. She tells him that the reason she left him is because there is much mystery surrounding her parentage —perhaps disgrace. Mr. Keon has adopted her. She does not even know her family name.

CHAPTER ll.—(Continued.) " And so you know nothing about yourself 1" Ray said presently. "No little treasures, no photographs or things of that kind. And you can't remember anything of your parents ?" " Nothing," Angela said sadly. " I have been here and in, Brazil with Mr. Keen when on his travels sometimes, ever since I was five—ls years ago. I have a confused memory of a dreadful accident- in a rocky country where there was machinery and mines, and of some strange man saying somebody was dead. I think it must be that my mother had died before then."

Ray turned it all over rapidly in his mind. The plot was thickening in a manner he had not expected. He looked thoughtfully around the luxurious apartment, and for the first fimo noticed the cases of tropical butterflies on the walls. With his more or less superficial knowledge of the subject he saw that there were few rarities though the collection was by no means a bad one. Evidently Keen shared his distinguished friend's love of these wonderful moths. That was probably the bond between him and the eccentric John Everard Moon. Perhaps there was some other bond between them, and if so Ray was not going to rest until he found it out. It was likely to be a long job, because Moon had been for a very long time in the wild forests of Brazil, and anyway it was hard to identify that savant with anything savouring of crime or dishonour. However ...

"Wo must get to th« bottom of this." Ray said. " Angela, you will have to be brave and resolute. There is a time of danger and peril coming which involves our future happiness and most likely you will be called upon to play your part. But if you are in the least afraid, or if you think that your courage is not —" She smiled up bravely into Ray's face. There was a steady resolution in her wide grey eyes. He read no fear there. Never when I have you," she murmured. "If you think that, Harry, you are mistaken. I would do anything to—" She drew back hastily as a step was heard on the landing- outside. Then the door opened and Edward Keen came in. He discovered the lovers on each side of the fireplace, seated and apparently engaged in casual conversation. Ray rose and bowed. "It is very good of you to ask me here in this informal way, Mr. Keen," he said easily. " I came, perhaps, a little too soon, but Miss, er, Nemo —is not that right?—was good enough to entertain me till you came. You had a pleasant journey

The other man inclined his head rather formally. Evidently on guard, Ray thought. His host was a man apparently about fifty years of age, though he did not look it until the infinitely fine lines round the eyes and mouth came under observation. He was dark enough to suggest foreign blood, with hair cropped close and shaven high up the back of his neck, and over the ears and on his upper lip was a small black moustache very fine and silky. " On the contrary, it was very good of you to come," he said. "As you can see by looking round, I am also an enthusiastic collector and share my friend, Moon's hobby. Not, of course, that I compare myself with him. But being a Brazilian produce merchant and having spent half my life in that country, I have had some humble part in those wonderful books of his, and he has been so kind as to acknowledge the fact in print. So you know the country, too." "I was there for over eighteen months," Ray explained. For the benefit of my health. Crocked up in the war, and managed to get out there in a destroyer by a little influence- Having much time on my hands and wanting some recreation, I took up butterfly hunting none too successfully. I have never met the great man, but I was in the same drawing room with him one night after a big dinner in San Salvador. A fine old gentleman with grey hair and long beard and spectacles. I had <no opportunity of an introduction, which was very disappointing, as I wanted to talk about that unique Golden Bat to him. I don't think even he had a specimen." " Nobody has," Keen- replied. "There is a legend to the effect; that one was brought to England twenty years ago by some diplomatic individual, but it has yet to be proved. And you really think that you are in touch with one. Mr. Ray?" " Well, I am sanguine," Ray smiled. "Novices' luck, you understand. A friend of mine up in the mines. He wrote me that he had secured a Golden Bat and was bringing it home for me. He may be back this month or by the end of the year for certain. That's why I took the liberty of . ringing you up, seeing that you are an enthusiast and more or less a partner of Mr. Moon's. &nd if I might venture to ask you to put me in touch with him —"

" Dinner is served, Miss," the butler announced, It was a pleasant meal well served and cooked, and the wines were all that the ■most fastidious could desire. It was noi until Angela had gone and the two men were alone over the liqueurs and cigars, that the subject of the Golden Bat cropped up again. " My friend Moon will be delighted to meet you," Keen said. He is very exclusive, as a rule, but anyone who is really interested in entomology has his ear. Quite a recluse, you understand, and a bit eccentric. Where he is exactly at the present moment I know no more than the dead. Been away in .South America for ages. But liable to re-appear at any moment with material for another of those j priceless books of his. When this hap- i pens lie stays at home till the book is; ready for the press; buries himself away in his cottage until it is finished; a cottage in the heart of the country with only j a sour old man to do anything for him. Even I have to write for an. appointment when I wish to visit the Thatched House at Sliepperton." . 1 "That's a very strange thirg,' Ray cried. "Thatched House at Shepperton. Closed for years at a time and nobody allowed to go inside. Kind > of mystery in the neighbourhood With narrowing eyes Keen looked up uneasily. ' , " It is as you say," he muttered. "Nobodv down there knows that Moon is ; the great Moon. When he goes away the place is closed. But why does the ; fact surprise you?" " Because the Thatched House at Shepperton was burgled last night. Bv €he merest chance I .read the meagre details

in the Evening Mail just before I came out. There was quite / a lot ) about th« lonely house, and the newspaper man heel' made the most of it—what they call « 'story' in Fleet Street. Wonderful how those chaps get hold of things. And that is where Moon lives when ho is in Eng« land. Funny I should read that paragraph when I was practically on my wrsy here. I hope no valuables were kept tL'ere.*' Rav spoke slowly and with his cy&S on the man on the other side of the" table. Keen half-rose to his feet with a strangled cry, and then dropped back again as if suddenly deprived of HI strength. ; He struggled up and rang the bell violently. Go out and get "me a copy of the Evening Mail" he said hoarsely, as the butler entered. "Get it quick

CHAPTER 111. THE THATCHED HOUSE. Keen was badly frightened, there could be no sort of doubt about that. It was not alarm 01* surprise or uneasiness that. Ray could read in those darkly glittering eyes of his, but real fear. For the moment, he had _ forgotten all about his dinner compitfuon; then slowly he managed to get Wmself in hand. As he glanced uneasily at Kay ho grew assured, for Ray's face bore an expression of curious innocence that was almost childish in its mute inquiry. Has something upset you 2" the latter asked ingenuously. " Well, just for the moment, just for the moment," Keen responded casually. " You see I am more or less responsible for the custody of tho house at Shepperton and my conscience is uneasy, mainly because I haven't been near the place for over a year. It isn't as if there were any valuables on the premises. But you know what these people are, if they can't find what they expect, they think nothing of turning a house inside out and destroying valuable stuff for the mere sake of doing it. And if they have wreaked their vengeance upon tho poor old chap's butterflies—

At that moment, tho butler came in •with a copy of the Evening Mail find Keen snatched it impatiently from his hand. For the nest ten minutes, he was deeply engrossed in the story. It was by no means badly told, and the newspaper man had made the best of it. ' Ho described the lonely house at Shepperton, standing in its neglected, weedy garden, remote from the road, and empty for many months, during the absence of the eccentric proprietor, whose name the writer gave, though it was quite evident that he had no idea that he was weaving a newspaper story around a celebrity. He spoke of tha old man and his taciturn servant, and how, on and off, for years, the place had been locked up, and left deserted without even a word to this local police. .

"All very clever," Keen muttered. " "What journalists call & stunt, I suppose. Something to make a splash on the front page, and hint at a sensation which probably will never come to anything. Now, tell me, Mr. Ray, why should people burgle a place like that? It's only a small bungalow, with one large room, which is a library and museum combined, and three small bedrooms with kitchen and offices. Electric light and gas and all that kind of thing, but nothing more than that. Looking through the account, there is not even a suggestion that my friend Moon is a man of means. As a matter bf fact, ha isn't. However, I suppose I shall have to go down there to-morrow and spend half the day fooling about with the local police.. But, if the moths are all right, I shan't worry. It's an awful nuisance, because, I was going north—l mean into •' Devonshire to-morrow

now I am afraid I shall have to put it off. However, let us talk about something else." ■ 1

Ray went his way presently, without' any further chance bf a word with Angela. Not that it mattered much, because there was a perfect understanding between them, and lie had not the least fear that she would say anything likely to rouse the suspicions of the man whom she regarded as her guardian. It was not late yet, and. Ray went straight back to' his rooms, where he took the telephone receiver off the hook and called up Lytton Barle. . He gave a code number, and almost immediately a quiet voice at the other end of the wire gave a number in reply. No more than that, but it was quite sufficient for Ray, who "responded with another number and, after an interval of a few seconds, he recognised the voice Of Barle, as it came over the line..

" Ray ipeaking," ho paid. : ■" Where are you ?" " Well, as a matter of fact, I am ■in my own quarters," Barle responded. "It's all right, you can speak quite freely. _ I have given orders I am not to be disturbed, and you can talk; as' long ,as you like. Is there anything doing : " I really begin to believe there is,'* Ray responded cheerfully. " I have just been having a most entertaining ; evening with a man called Keen, who lives at Silverdale Mansions, arid has offices as & Brazilian produce merchant in the city."- " Ah, nob very illuminating," Barle murmured.

" Wait, my friend, wait. You remember telling me about that unique butterfly which was stolen from. Lord Burlington's place 'in the ; big burglary the other night ? : Ti*« little incident you mentioned as of no importance, but which struck mo as being of great significance. Well, as a matter of fact, if; is. You see, this man Keen is a greatK friend of John Everard Moon, . the greatest living ' authority on entomology, in fact, Moon frequently mentions Keen in his books. Now, it, s a subject I am rather keen on myself, and, for reasons' which I don't want -to go. in to at present, 1 made an excuse to ring up Keen at his city office, and told him that I was in touch with a Golden Bat, and, as 1 expected, he rose to the bait. You see, I wanted to get into his house." . ~.. . (To be continued daily.}