CARFAX ABBEY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 20229, 13 April 1929, Page 18 (Supplement)

CARFAX ABBEY.

FINE MYSTERY STORY WITH ROMANTIC ELEMENT.

BY SIR BASIL THOMSON.

(COPYRIGHT.)

CHAPTER X. Bernard reached the hall just as another guest was being admitted. He was carrying an enormous bouquet. Through the open door a heavy Daimler could bo seen at the gate. For the moment lie did not recognise this smiling, sleek person and he passed hiiT), but his mind Hashed back to the tennis party and the inquest Ho remembered the man in the witness-box; it was Gomez, tho man with whom Mr. Warren had an appointment, the man who wished to marry Kathleen. What could she be thinking of to let a creature like that call upon her ? But Kathleen had no intention of letting him call upon her. The butler, who knew Mr. Gomez as an honoured guest of Mr. Warren, was in doubt, lie left him standing in tho hall while lie went to " see whether Miss Warren was at home." That voung lady left him in no doubt on that point and Mr. Gomez deposited his flowers and his card and diove oil' in iiis car, not in the least rebuffed. Then, having the rest of the day to Herself, Kathleen locked herself into her bedroom and spent it in tears. It /was Pamela Thring's darkest hour. That day she had another visit from Sergeant Mannering. " Those photographs, Miss," he said. " Did you get any further with them?' Pamela told him that all were accounted for except one given to her uncle who had written from Paris assuring her that he had it safely, but that -he could not sav exactly where he could lay his hands upon it. " You don't think, Miss, that Mr. Merton. could have lent his copy to your brother " I'm quite sure of that." But her heart sank, for it whs now evident that, in the minds of the police, suspiciou had centred upon Bernard, and who could tell whether some new tittle of evidence might not turn the scale and give them courage to arrest him. Already* as -she knew, his position at i.he Foreign Office had. become almost intolerable. No one said anything to him about the case, but there was suspicion and disquiet in the air ever since the sensational papers had given prominence to what happened at the inquest. He was looking like a ghost, and at home he scarcely opened his lips. Pamela feh helpless against suspicions that could bo dissipated' entirely it only she>had the key to the mystery. While she was pondering over her helplessness, she was called to 'lie telephone. She recognised the voice with a beating heart. " They told me you were in hospital after a motor accident." " So I was for two or three days. Then they let me come home. It was nothing the poor car felt it more than I did. May I inflict myself at dinner to-night?" " What have we in the house?" thought the anxious housewife, but her voice replied/ " Why, of course, and you must tell us all about your accident." " There is nothing much to tell. I was driving back from Oxford. I must have crashed into something, though I don't remember it, and I woke up in a hospital ward.'' Things had shaped themselves fortunately. Bernard had told her at breakfast that he was dining out; her mother was not well enough to come down; she would have Edmund Meredith to herself. Bernard had just left, the house when he was announced. Officially in Chelsea ho was Mrs. Thring's friend because he had helped her to' straighten out her affairs after belli usband's sudden death, but she had long reconciled herself to his assumption of the part of elder brother to her two children —a role that suited him perfectly. In person he was dark and strong with thick black hair already streaked with grey. No one would have called hirn good-look-ing until they noticed the brightness and intelligence of his eyes. His silence and. gravity, except when he found himself in congenial company, had often excited wonder that a man so heavy in hand should he so succesrful at the Bar, though a large part of his practice was in chambers. Pamela had half expected to see a changp in hirn: perhaps half-healed scars on the face. He was a little thinner, a little tired, but that was all that, a serious accident had left behind it. He looked round the room.

" She wants to clear away," explained Pamela. " Shall wo go into the drawing room ?" Meredith looked at his watch. " Great heavens! It's a quarter to eleven. It is time 1 was cleared away, too. I've kept vou up and I've got work to do at home." Tie collected his thiugs in the hall. " Goodnight and thank you ever so much for coming to me when you are in a tight place." Pamela said nothing, but her hand lingered in his for the fraction of a second. He was so strong and helpful, this man friend of hers. Her sense of obligation was too great for words. As the door closed upon him the telephone began to ring. " You're wanted, miss," said the parlourmaid. " Who can want me at this time of the night?" thought Pamela as''she went to the receiver. " Is that you, Pamela ? Kathleen speaking. You've heard, of course?" " Heard what ?" " That our engagement is broken off." " Broken off ? Oh, Kitty, how could you ?" "It wasn't I. Bernard left a note for mo this evening. I suppose I should have' expected it, but it seems so cruel, Pamela, and I don't know what to do." The wire transmitted even tho sob that broke her voice. " Listen, Kitty. Would you like me to come round ? Can you give me a bed ? You can ? Then expect me in less than half an hour." She replaced tho receiver and called to the parlourmaid, " Charlotte, will you ring up the rank and get me a taxi while I pack a few things. I am going to the Warrens at Hampstead for tho night. Tell Mrs. Thring in the morning, but say nothing to Sir. Bernard if he asks where I am." CHAPTER XI. Kathleen Warren herself opened tho door, the servants having all gone to bed. She was in an emotional state, her face stained with tears and her breath coming quick. She flung herself into Pamela's arms and began to sob; in her hand was Bernard's letter. Pamela caressed her' hair and soothed hei as she would a frightened child; "It was all mv fault," the girl kept repeating through her sobs. "What can I do? What can I do?" ' Let nie read the letter, darling." It was as she expected, a letter of wounded pride fr'>m a man who considers himself deeply injured. Perhaps he was really acting from the highest altruistic motives in setting his fiancee free from an. engagement with a man who was under suspicion of being concerned in causing tho death of her father. Pamela hoped that these were his motives. But it was the familiar weakness of his sex to play the injured hero to the women who love them, and they do not play it when there is a danger that they may be taken at their word. The only redeeming point in tho letter was the evidence that tho writer was deeply in love and therefore that tho breach might easily, \>Q .healed. "What can I do?" sobbed tho girl in her arms. "Do nothing darling. Do not answer the letter, and. above all, do not see him. Everything will come right. You can safely leave that to me." " You are a darling, Pamela. With you, somehow I feel quite safe," cried the girl through her tears. " Now, Kitty, sit down and let us talk for five minutes and then we must both go to bed. I am starting to-morrow with a friend of mine to clear Bernard." Pamela was glad to find Kathleen more cheerful when she left her in the morning. Meredith was full of questions on the way down —chiefly about Gomez. " I didn't know of his existence till the other day when I met him at their house, Kathleen Warren told me "that she disliked the man. She herself knew nothing about him except that ho was at Lloyds and that her father wanted her to marry him, but since her father's death she has learned a good deal more from her solicitor. It seems that Gomez was tho owner both of Bearstead and Carfax Abbey He sold the Abbey to Mr. Warren on the understanding that Kathleen was not to be told that he would be their nearest neighbour." " You mean that it was a kind of plot between the two men."

" Yes. There are no other neighbours, and they hoped that when Kathleen was buried in the country, seeing Gomez nearly every day, she would forget my brother. Mr. Warren was to put pressure on her day after day, and Gomez was to do tho rest. I fancied that' Sir. Warren was under some sort of money obligation to the man, and the marriage would have cancelled it. At any rate, on the night before his death, Sir. Warren told her that unless she consented to marry him, they would be ruined. But now it appears that Sir. Warren was very well off." " That is very interesting. You told me that Warren had an appointment with Gomez on the afternoon of his death. What was that about?" " We don't know. The sale of the Abbey had been completed. It couldn't havo been about the house." " I wonder —I wonder whether there was an clement of blackmail about the business. Warren had made his money quickly; most men who do that have episodes in their lives that they want to hide, and if Gomez knew something—. Your lirother chose a bad moment for approaching his future father-in-law. And yet—" he went on, thinking aloud, " Gomez had a strong motive for keeping Sir. Warren alive." " Unless they quarrelled—" "Ah!—unless they quarrelled. Was Warren a hot-tempered man?" " I never saw him in a temper, but, according to Bernard, he had the temper of a fiend if anyone ventured to oppose him. I know that he bullied his daughter, and she bore it like an angel. I suppose that he was not always like that—she, seemed fond of him in spite of it." "It mav have been due to his illness. You say that the Abbey is haunted ?" V Yes, according to the papers —by a monk who had been murdered while defending the chapel from desecration —oh ! I forgot, you were ill and didn t see tho papers." " Let me make a confession. Ever since I was a child ghost stories have had a fascination for me. 1 should have tried to help you in any case, but it was the sug gestion of the occult that made me keen. If it hadn't been for the finger-marks on the throat I should have sifted the possi bility of Warren having seen something that ca.ned iii> d-atli «i'm shock

" Mother is so sorry. They won't let her come down. Bernard could not escape a dinner engagement, so I'm afraid vou'll have to put up with me this evening." His eyes smiled satisfaction; lie was always bad at pretty speeches. Dinner was announced. The hostess decided to say nothing about her plans while the maid was flitting in and out; as they crossed the hall she said, " You know, I hope, that you are to be victimised this evening. After dinner I want your advice, and you have got to listen to a long and boring story. You see what jcu've let yourseh in for?" •" I do Mideed," lie said wiih dinting eves. " I'm to play the elder brother, am I?" " Yes. you are to play tho elder brother." All through the dinner tliny talked of other the hitch in his practice due to Jiis absence. Fortunately, the man who shared his chambers arid his clerk between them had kept things going as well as Ihev could. But there were arrears and for the first few days he found it difficult to concentrate on his briefs. " I suppose you ought to bo taking a complete holiday." " So niv doctor man told me, but he saw me this morning and withdrew hi> embargo. Apparently lam as fit as ever I was. The headaches have gone and briefs are rolling in. The fact is that I rather like the grind of it." "You are incorrigible; otherwise I should have talked to you of the danger of overdoing things." At last they were alone. He pushed back his chair and said, " Well? I'm listening." —" You have heard of the death of Mr. iWarien at Carfax Abbey, of course?"' "Warren? Carfax Abbey? No, I can't say that I have." " The papers have been full of it; Kathleen Warren's father you know. Oh, 1 forgot, your accident. You haven't teen the papers for days." '* I have skinned the 'Times' for the last few days, but that is allJ* "Then I must begin at the*beginning." Thereupon she related all that had happened, encouraged bv the expression of lense'interest in his eyes when she came to the suspicion that rested on her brother. " The County Police must oe more than ordinarily stupid to fasten suspicion upon anyone on such slender grounds, purely Bernard can be induced to say where lie was? " She shook hot- head. "/Tie says that it is not his secret ; that is all I can pet out of him." " A quixotic sense of honour, I suppose." " Yes." " And you want nie to help in clearing him ?" " I want you to advise me how to beS' n -" He was silent for a long time, thinking with his brow knitted in a frown. " I think that we had better work together," he said at last " 1 did not dare to ask that. What about your work?" He pulhd out a tiny engagement book and studied it. " I can give you the whole of to-nmr-row and most of Tuesday. On Wednesday 1 am tied up by a conference. On Thursday, 1 have a tiresome case in court. Friday and Saturday I shall, take ' off.' Jt will be a holiday. The poor old car is on the scrap heap, hut she was insured and I've got a new one; it can run us down to—did you say Carfax Abbey? 'Where is it?" " In Buckinghamshire." " Then I'll call you at ten.". Ihe parlourmaid looked in.

The girl glanced at liirn with sudden interest. With his firm jaw and grave, thoughtful face, lie seemed the last man in the world to believe in the occult. "Do you mean that you believe in houses being haunted ?" " I don't know tlu't T behove anyihinj! I kcop an open mind—that is all. We must lie getting near Oldbury according to that dial." 'lsn't that the town straight ahead?" "Yes Now for the police!" The superintendent knew bis visitor's name and saw him at once, while Pamela Thring stayed in the car, since the name of Turing, coupled with that of Carfax Abbey, was not to be mentioned at Oldbury Police Station. I have come to apply fpr the key of Carfax Abbey, superintendent. Here is a letter addressed to you by the present owner. Miss Warren." Superintenden" Laurence read (he letter ami knit lim bnw. "I don't want to make unnecessary difficulties, Mr. Meredith. If 1 did I could say that Miss Warren is not the owner, and I must have a letter fiorn her trustees. We have taken the trouble to inspect the late Mr. Warren's will: nil the property is vested in trustees unti' the young lndv is twentyfive. To speak quite frankly, I don't want to part with the key until the case is cleared up." " I doubt very much whether you have power to detain it." " Not against the wishes of the legal owners—the trustees, but they have made no demand for it."

" I speak with little knowledge of the . :ase, but surely in a fortnight you have iearched from top to bottom." " That is so, and if I knew why Miss kVarren wants you to have the key 1 might ,vaive tho point of law. I suppose that 1 should bo quite wrong if I thought that y-ou wanted the key to carry out a sort, of jolice investigation of your own, ill'. Meredith ?" Meredith laughed. " I am not a private nquiry agent, Superintendent, but I confess that the case interests me. I want to visit the place and see what I can for myself. 1 can promise you two things—l shall publish nothing about it, and if 1 should stumble upon any new fact I should bring it at once to you." That satisfied Supt. Laurence. ( As he was unlocking His safe, bo saicl, opeaking in confidence, ill". Meredith, wo are not making much progress. At this sUigc 1 don't like to ask for help from London. My chief likes us to do our washing at home. So, if you do notice anything new—and a fresh eye sometimes sees things that others miss—l hope you won't forget us. 'I hat is tho key of the front door." Meredith drovo the car from Oldhury to Carfax without much help from his companion. They spoke, but little, for neither knew the way. Fortunately, they met a farmer's boy who agreed, in expectation of a tip, to mount tho footboard and act as guide. .When they had passed through the stone gatewav and the Abbey lay befoie them, he pointed out Bearstead on the hill above, pocketed his half-crown and left them. They drew up the car in the shade of a huge "cedar and unlocked the front door. Every empty unfurnished house has the same smell, compound of damp and stagnant air and packing-straw. Some of the huge packing-cases had been opened: in the monk's refectory, now tho diningroom, a modern copy of a refectory table and a great sideboard had been unpacked and dragged to their places, as if the furnishers had abandoned their work for lack of instructions. "It happened in tho chapel; 1 wonder where it is," whispered Pamela, leading thf> way through the hall, past the grand staircase, where she found a door with the key in the lock. It gavo on to a walled open spaco encumbered with heaps of carved stone overgrown with grass and weeds, tho ruins of tho ancient cloister. A paved way led along the wall to another door which stood ajar. It was the north door of the chapel. She pushed it open and went in. The chapel had been a. ruin, gutted of its carved oak stalls, its gallery and its altar rail. It was a small Gothic structure with a vaulted stone roof. Little remained of its fine stained glass or of tho fresco paintings, but Warren had given his architect a free hand, and had taken extraordinary interest in tho restoration as if he intended it to be a thank-offering for tho good things of this world which had come to him as' an answer to his nightly prayer. No attempt had been made to replace the missing windows: such of the stained glass as had been recovered was in its place and transparent leaded glass filled the gaps: tho walls had been, cleaned and tho frescoed saints could faintly bo distinguised against the white stone background. The organ loft of carved oak Was a copy from the gallery of a chapel of the same period and the stalls had been faithfully reconstructed from a model made up of pieces of carved lumber that had been found in outhouses and stables. Some of the furniture had not yet been, unpacked. The floor was cumbered with great packing cases—many of them bearing the name of an organ-builder. A beginning had been made with setting up the pulpit on its stone plinth: a case was open, straw was scattered about and tho carving of the sounding board obtruded from its wrappings. A new altar rail of beaten iron was in its place: the gate stood open: the stone altar and reredos had been untouched since a monk lost his life in defending it from desecration. It was just in front of the rail that the owner of the Abbey had been found dead. The actual position of the body Was drawn in chalk, and there were two chalk circles nearer to tho altar gate. That part of the paved floor was swept clean: the packing straw, several inches deep, formed a circle round the stage of the tragedy. Pamela turned to whisper to fctr companion and started: she was alone. She ran to the open door and found him leaning against tho wall of the cloister with his eyes closed. " Aren't you coming?" she asked; and then, noticing his attitude, she said, " I'm afraid that you are not feeling well." Meredith pulled himself together with an effort. " I am all right now. Since my accident I have had fits of giddiness sometimes, but they always give me warning. I shan't upset the car. You were in tho chapel? Let us go in." She looked keenly at him. His voice was very shaky ana ho had turned pale. " No, Mr. Meredith, 1 am quite sure that you are not well enough to do anything yet. You ought to lie down. Come with me into the house. I know that some of the furniture has been unpacked. We'll find a sofa somewhere." lie allowed himself to be persuaded. In the drawing' room Pamela found a sofa, dusted it and, wheeling it with its back to the light, told her companion to lie down on it. lie obeyed her like a child. " Now, lie quite still till I come for you. Go to sleep if you can." Her first idea was to telephone for a doctor, and she ran feverishly from room to room in the hope of finding an instrument. There was none. She crept back to tho drawing room to see how her patient was. He was already asleep, with one arm hanging loose to the ground and his face, drawn and weary, toward her. She felt a surge of almost maternal feeling as she looked at him, lying ill and helpless; lie who had always seemed so strong and .independent. But since lie was asleep and his breathing was regular there was no need of a doctor. It was better to leave him where he was and try to make headway alone. She returned to the chapel. There were the chalk marks indicating tho spot where the body was found. Whoever ho was, she thought, the man who killed Mr. Warren had reached the altar rail. Did Mr. Warren find him in the chapel when he came? If so, he must havo had a duplicate .key, for she could see no other entrance. Tho west door, under the organ loft, had been walled up. He must have followed Sir. Warren in, but with what motive? Not robbery: the dead man's money and valuables were untouched. Revenge ? Mr. Warren must have had enemies; no one can make a fortune without trampling on other people. But how could a vengeful enemy know that he was coming to the Abbey that day ? He could have found him any day in Hampstead. Unless One man did know. Gomez. But a sleek, overfed, overdressed Portuguese Jew is not the kind of man who would commit a murder with naked hands. If ho wanted Warren out of the way ho would havo taken other measures; hired a man perhaps to do it. Then, suddenly she remembered that Gomez was not tho only man who knew. There was the chauffeur and lic-r own brother. It was time to look at her patient. She found him wide awake and silting up. He was on his feet as soon as he saw her. " I'm afraid that I've been asleep," he said, " and we came here to work; it's scandalous." " I believe that I have covered every bit of tho ground. lam sure that I've searched more thoroughly even than the police. And it's time to be thinking about lunch." "Good heavens! I must have been asleep for hours. Where shall we lunch ? If 1 had had any sense 1 should have brought a luncheon basket in the car. I'm afraid that there's nothing for it but Oldbury." (To be continued on Saturday next.)