CARFAX ABBEY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 20235, 20 April 1929, Page 18 (Supplement)

CARFAX ABBEY.

BY SIR BASIL THOMSON.

CHAPTER XL—(Continued). 'At luncheon in the hotel they discussed their next step. Meredith was himself again. He listened attentively to Pamela's reasoning—that Warren's assailant had followed him into the chapel and iia-i not been there when he arrived, and to her suggestion that the motive for the attack had been revenge. "If he followed him in as you say, why do you rule out Gomez?" " Only because Mr. Gomez had a strong motive for keeping Mr. Warren alive." " I don't think that revenge was the motive. A man bent on killing from revenge takes good care to be armed. You told me that tho dead man had a .violent temper; the medical evidence showed that ho was in such a state of health that slight shock would have been enough to kill him. My theory is that it was a sudden quarrel and he was just as likely to quarrel with Gomez as anyone else. I think that our next step is to clear up Gomez's movements that afternoon. According to his statement he never left his house. If we fii)d that he lied and that he went down to the Abbey we shall be getting warm." " Yes, but how shall we set about that ?" " That is where I come in. Mr. Gomez does not know me. If you agree I propose to impersonate the innocent tourist this very afternoon while you play about tho Abbey." " I wish I could come with you." " So do I, but it would cramp my style. I promise to report faithfully all my adventures, while you are standing guard over'the car." Pamela watched him making for the bridge and saw him climbing the farm road to Bearstead. Then she returned to the chapel. Her eyes were as good as those of the police. Suppose that they had missed something. The light was not very good; she went down on. her knees and began to turn over the straw. The place was uncannily quiet. She paused for a moment; a rustle among the straw made her leap to her feet with a gasp of horror. It was only a famished rat which scurried away with a flirt of its naked tail. Pamela Thring was not exempt from the weakness of her sex when rats were concerned. She did tho job thoroughly but found nothing. The chapel oppressed her with foreboding. She quitted it for tho drawing room, but instead of taking the direct routo down the north side of tho cloister, she went straight on as if to make a tour of the quadrangle. Building stone, old and now, Uttered the pavement, leaving but a narrow passage between the blocks and, as she glanced from right to left among the grey stones, her eyes caught a crumpled scrap of paper among the mason's litter. It was clean and free from dust. She picked it up and found that it was a letter in an envelope addressed to " Raphael Gomez, Esquire, Bearstead Manor, Oldbury," and the postmark was " London, N.W., September 12"—the day before Mr. Warren's death. The letter had "been opened, but she had scruples about reading other people's letters. How did it/ get there, unless Mr. Gomez himself had visited the Abbey since the tragedy ? Ho had sworn at the inquest that he had left his own grounds on that fatal afternoon. She would show it to Mr. Meredith and be guided by his advice.

/Meanwhile, why was lie so long? What was happening ? Her heart had never failed her yet, and now, because a man who was little more than an acquaintance /hjight bo ill and in danger, she felt her nerves giving way. Because, if Mr. Meredith failed, whom was she to turn to ? Of course, that was the explanation. Having settled this to her satisfaction, she was free to feel as anxious as she liked.

It must be tbe house, this great,'.deserted house with a curse upon it. She had moved to the drawing room, which was a shade less depressing than the rest, and even there .she felt she must scream if she stayed any longer. From time to time tho timbers cracked as if to remind her that tho days even of piles of masonry like this were numbered. She could bear it no longer; she would go and sit in the car. Before she reached the front door she heard a quick step on the gravel. He was coming back safe and sound. /"First, my apologies for having left you so long. Why, what's the matter? You look so pale." " Nothing. Let us go to the car." "Have you-r-have you seen something." " Nothing, but I am glad you are back. Tell me what you did." " Shall I start tho far first?" " No, tell me now." " Well, you may congratulate me. Gomez was lying." CHAPTER XII. " Yes," said Meredith, " when Gomez said that he did not go down to the Abbey that afternoon he lied and he has been trying to cover up his lie ever since." There was a note of elation in his voice that was infectious. " You want to hear how I found out? It was more by good luck than good management. I followed the farm track till I came to a small field. There I found a man wheeling turnips in a barrow. He put down his barrow and stared at me. Then he left it and came up. ' You'll excuse me, sir,' ho said, 'but I think we've met before. lou are Mr. Meredith, the famous lawyer. You defended my brother at the Old Bailey when they charged him with grievous bodily harm on that policeman. Surely you remember defending William Parish, and you got him off, you did, and I had the honour of shaking you by the hand. Lord! But it was a fine speech you made; it fair knocked the judge and jury oft' their feet?' I searched my memory for William Parish. I had some excuse for it was five years since 1 polluted the fount of justice; it was in the days when I was glad to take a dock brief at £1 13s 6d. The grateful brother, I found, wanted to talk, and so 1 began to lay out my ignorance on t.he table which wasn't largo enough to hold all that I did not know. What was the big house do™ in the hollow? Carfax Abbey. Hadn't I beard that mime before ? I thought 1 had read about it lately in the newspapers. What was it about now ? Tho murder of Mr. .Warren ? Yes, that was it. My friend had been bottling up a great secret for days; he wanted to unburden himself to someone ho could trust. Not to tho police; his brother's experiences had cured him of any misplaced confidence in them. lie began by telling rrie, all about tlio ghost, though ho got his English history a little mixed; and about the murder and tho inquest. When I asked him for his theory he pretended to shut up like a clasp knife, but ho nodded and winked as an invitation to nie to press him further. ' I don't know who it was, but there's those that do know and won't say.' ' Who do you mean ?' 1 said. ' Ah, sir, that would be telling but what would you think of it if a party swore at the inquest that he'd rie 1 e. been near tho Abbey that afternoon and you'd seen i.im wiUi, your own eyes, not only going d.wn llmre, hut watched him go in, and seen linn come oui double-quick and sneak, up home alrng that hedge. What would you think ?' 'l'd think he was a liar,' I said, ' but who was it ? ' ' Well, it was a party living within a mile of where we're standing—iiim that gave evidence at tho inquest. That's who it was.'

" I didn't press him further, but I have got his name—Charles Parish, and I am satisfied that he was speaking the truth. As to the time, it was the early r . afternoon—that is to say, a few minutes after half-past three when he saw Gomez coining back along tlie hedge. If Gome/, •w-tho inquest that he never went

FINE MYSTERY STORY WITH ROMANTIC ELEMENT.

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to the Abbey that afternoon he committed perjury, but we should have to look carefully at the coroner's notes before we could say that." '' " Yes, it is one man's word against another's. What is the next step ?"■ " Oh, we can't let matters rest as they are. I mean to have a confession from Gomez before I've done with him," said Meredith grimly, and Pamela, looking at the determined lines of his face, was glad that she was not standing in Gomez's shoes. " And now tell ine what you have been doing." " Well, I searched the floor of tho Chapel inch by inch, and found nothing. Look at my hands." " So you are disappointed ? " " Not at all. I found something, only it wasn't in the chapel, and it may be of no importance at all. I went the other way round the cloister, and between two stones among the rubbish I found this." Meredith turned the letter over in his hand, examining the post-mark "There's a letter in the envelope. You've read it ? " " No. I tho.ight I'd keep it for you." " I think we ought to read it in case it was from Warren.'-' " Very well. You know best." He took out the letter and knit his brow over it. Then he said, " Before I read you the letter, tell me, was not Gomez questioned about a letter at the inquest,' and did he not say that he had destroyed it ? " " Yes, it was the letter from Mr. Warren asking for an appointment." " Then, your discovery is the most important that has yet been made, for Gomez has committed perjury. This is the letter: I'll read it to you." " Dear Gomez, " You'll do no good by rushing things. I've had it out with Iv., and she took the bit in her teeth. I can't put it all in a letter, but I'll run down to the Abbey to-morrow, and if you want further details I'll come and see you. You threatened me yesterday and gave me till Thursday. If you do as you threatened, of course, the whole thing is off, and I think that you may have reason to regret it afterwards. Two can play at the game of telling tales and I may be driven to say what I know about the 'Maverick.' I've been playing square with you, and if you do the dirty by me, look out. " Yours, J.W." " What's it all mean ? " " What is Miss Warren's Christian name ? Kathleen ? Then Iv. stands for Miss Warren. J.W. is, of course, Joshua Warren: it would bcK easy to prove his handwriting. Gomez has threatened Warren with exposure. I dare say lie had many things to lyc[e; these men have. Warren was trying t»'force his daughter to marry Gomez and to consent before Thursday. She refused, and he hoped to postpone the exposure by the interview he asks for, but he knew of some shady transaction of Gomez's and could not resist the luxury of threatening him in turn. It was a kind of reciprocal blackmail. A pretty pair they were!" "How disgusting!"

" Yes, but how important for us. Gomez committed perjury not once, but twice, at the inquest; and with this letter and the information I got from our friend with the turnips, 1 ought to have quite a fruitful interview. I wish I hadn't promised the superintendent to keep him informed of any finds we made. I think we'll have to wait a few hours." " Yes, I think we've done enough for to-day. i'ou have work to-morrow and you must go to it fresh. Let us go home." " I should like to go on, but I want to know something more about Mr. Gomez's past record than we can find out here; so back to London we 'll go." It was Sergeant Mannering's afternoon off duty, and it followed that he had betaken himself with his firstborn to the bank of the canal, with a full-grown and a half-grown fishing rod, with floats and gut complete. They had also with them an obese fishing basket, in which their luncheon would have been carried if Mrs. Manncring had not put her foot down firmly. " You can play what tricks you like with your stomach, but Thomas does not leave the house without a good dinner inside him." Her parting words were to wish them luck " because the cat's had no dinner."

Thomas was the aptest of pupils; lie knew to a hair the length of worm's tail that should be hanging free from the hook and the exact behaviour of the float before the moment arrived for striking. It was a very pleasant afternoon for them both. They did not converse—anglers are not given to that weakness—but they had already consigned fivo bony little fish to the basket when Thomas, who knew every constable by sight, exclaimed, " There's Parkinson, and he's coming for you, dad." For P.O. Parkinson, defying the traffic rules as constables are free to do, was riding his bicycle straight in their direction. He brought a message from the chief, effectually putting an end to his colleague's " atiernoon off." " The chief wants you, sergeant," was all he said. And so Thomas was left sadly to pack up the gear while his father hastened home for his bicycle. Thomas resolved that afternoon that, come what might, he would never be a policeman. " Sorry to have to call you back, Mannering. It's about that Abbey case. You've a rival in the field. Ever heard of Mr. Edmund Meredith ?" "The counsel, do you mean, sir?" The superintendent nodded. " Why, yes, sir. It was hirn that defended Pickersgill at the Heading Assizes and cross-examined me for more than half an hour." " Wjell, he's on the Abbey job now. You'll find him a dangerous rival. He got the keys from me this morning on a letter ixom Miss Warren, and lie's down there now, searching for evidence." " It's a funny thing for a barrister to be doing, sir." " Oh, he's there as a member of tlio public, but as it's your case, I think you'd better slip along and see what he's doing; else he'll be giving us a wipe in the eye.

" Thank you, sir, l will." " Stop a moment. I haven't heard lately what progress you're making." " Well, sir, for the moment we're at a standstill. I hope to be able to trace that photograph to young Mr. Hiring. We've accounted for five out of tho six, and there's been a letter from Mr. Thring's uncle in Paris to say that tho sixth's locked up in his flat. When lie comes back he'll produce it, but that sixth photograph didn't walk into the Abbey by itself, and it's my belief that Mr. Thring dropped it there during the struggle with tho deceased Warren. I was going to consult you about the case, sir, but as the papers have dropped it for the time, and you had so much on hand, I thought we might wait a bit and see what turne.i up." " Then you still think it was Till ing ? Only there isn't enough evidence yet to put before tho Director of Public Prosecutions; we mustn't make a mistake, you understand." " That's so. sir." " Very well, you'd better slip along to the Abbey." And while he was '' slipping along " he met a car containing two acquaintances— Edmund Meredith and Miss Thring. " Take care," said Pamela to her companion, " that man on the bicycle is the policeman who came to see me. Don't run over him." Tho episode about her photograph was the one piece of evidence she had kept from Meredith, because of her promise. Sergeant Mannering slowed down and dismounted. He was a philosopher, and when tho luck turned against' him he did not whine nor curse. Hoping for a favourable turn of the wheel, lie went back to the bosom of his family, and if he

thought at all about Meredith's incursion into his domain, it was to hope that he would find a dead wall in front of him and stick in future to his own profession. To Pamela Thring tho next two days were days of fever. Her little social duties were neglected; her longing was to be doing something in her quest, but without Edmund Meredith to help hor she was powerless. She had to meet her brother at breakfast and at dinner, and to keep up an appearance of conversation on indifferent topics. Ho was suffering acutely —that she could see, but, of course, she told him nothing of her efforts to clear him. One evening, just as she was going up to her mother, he called back. "Have you scon Kitty lately, Pam?" " I saw her two days ago." " Was she—was she well ?" ' Yes, but she's terribly worried by business." " She hasn't answered my letters. Do you think—that if I called she would see me ?" " All depends upon how much you arc able to tell her. Bernie, old boy, it's no good our beating about tho bush, is it ? If you can tell her where you were that afternoon I am sure that everything will como right, but don't put it off too long." Bernard's face darkened. " What do you mean by too long'!" " What 1 mean is that if you leave things too long as they are it may be too late." The young man stood silent for a moment and then left tho room. Pamela heard the front door shut behind him. It was clear that lie did not mean to clear up the mystery. She had had no word from Meredith. Immersed'as he was in his legal work, she had not expected it, and she did not know whether they were to continue their quest on Thursday or not, but on "Wednesday she was called to tho telephone. She knew the voice—a deep and clear voice which even the telephone could not obscure. " What will you say to me if I propose myself to dinner this evening ? I have something to tell you. Will you be alone 1" And she remembered, with a sudden bound of the heart, that her brother had announced that morning that he was dining out. " Yes, do come—as early as you can and stay as late as your work will let you." " If you'll let mo off dressing I'll be with you in twenty minutes." She let him off dressing, but two minutes later she found herself in her own room before the glass with a tea-gown in either hand, uncertain which she should don in his honour, and deciding upon the black because it seemed to become her best. She was in tho drawing room when the taxi drove up, and she counted it for righteousness that she did not fly down the stairs to meet him, but allowed him to be ushered upstairs in the prosaic way. He was beaming with quiet delight as ho took her hand and glanced approvingly at the tea-gown which set off her delicato beauty. " I've made a discovery, and I couldn't let it wait till to-morrow, when we go down to Oldbury for our field-day, don't we?" " I'm ready, but don't keep me in suspense. What is your discovery?" " Well, I've got tho life-history, of Mr. Eaphael Gomez, for one thing; but that wouldn't interest you. Up to a point he was very successful in business; he made a great deal of money during, and after, the war, but then all his speculations seemed to go wrong, and my discovery is that his firm, so far from being prosperous as it pretends, is on the verge of bankruptcy." CHAPTER XIIT. Punctual to the minute, Meredith's ear drew up at the Thrings' door. Pamela was ready for him, and in a few minutes they were on the broad road to the west. " Did you sleep over what I told you last night?" said Meredith. " 1 did, but still I don't understand what motive Gomez can liavo had for attacking Mr Warren. If ho wanted to marry Kathleen in order to save himself from bankruptcy and Mr. Warren was putting pressure on his daughter, his interest would have been to keep him alive."

" I agree, but as I read tlio evidence, there must have been a violent quarrel in which Warren was the aggressor, and in defending himself, Gomez took his antagonist by the throat and—well, caused his death. And now I want your advice. My instinct is ti. go down to Bearstead to-day, call upon Gomez, and ta?c him with having been down to the Abbey Chapel that afternoon. I believe that I should jolt him into an admission." " Am I the person to advise you ?" "Yes. You havo seen Gomez; you know me. If I succeed you will have cleared your brother of all suspicion." "Of course, you will succeed," she said: " but I am not sure "

"Not sure of what?" " Whether it is the wisest course. If Mr. Gomez admitted that he had gone dawn to tlio Abbey to look for Mr. "Warren, it does not prove him guilty." His face fell. " Then, on the whole, you advise me not to seo him." " No, I don't. The real use of asking advice is to learn what one really wants to do. I see that your heart is sot upon making Mr. Gomez confess. You had better do it." " You seem to know by instinct what is in my heart. Yes, I confess I want to do it. I have found out that ho is always at Bearstead on Thursdays." " Then you scarcely want me." " Yes, 1 do. You bring me luck." "Of course I'll come. You can drop me in a field or a wood somewhere on the way." " Or at the Abbey." " No—not there. It's a horrid place to bo alone in." " Then anywhere you like. I don't suppose the business will take more than lialf-an-hour." " Have you thought out your interview ?" she asked. " No—only on quite general lines. I shall seno in my card, and if he makes difficulties I shall pencil a few lines on it saying that I must see him on a matter of urgent importance. I know that he will see me then." " And how will you begin ?"

" I shall tell him that I have called about Mr. Warren's death, and then be guided entirely by what he says." " I wish I could be hidden behind a curtain. I should love to hear you do it."

" I should bo on my mettle then. There, isn't that Bearstead ?" They were nearing a little wood. " Put me down here." said Pamela. " But you will bo so cold. The woods look danip and uncomfortable." She insisted. " You aro not to think of mo till tho interview is over, or you'll hurry things. Good-bye—and good luck!" She watched the car out of sight and then she sat down on a fallen tree to think. It was on her mind that she had had to withhold from Edmund Meredith one part of tho eviflcnco that might be vital—her photograph that had been picked up on tho verv scene of the tragedy—and all becauso of that foolish promise that she had made to a detective. IL was not fair to cngago so busy a man upon a case that did not concern him personally, and then withhold from him something that might havo provided a short cut to the solution. How did that photograph get there? No doubt it was tho copy given to her charming but irresponsible uncle: no doubt it had left his flat by way of tho waste paper basket. But how had it found its way into the packing straw used by an organ builder in Norwich? There were coincidences in real life, but surelv never such a coincidence as this. Then and there she resolved to write again to her uncle. Her mind reverted to the interview then taking place. She pictured Edmund Meredith's face and wondered what he would say to her if he thought that she was keeping anything back. Under his cross-examination sho would be constrained to bare her inmost soul. (To be continued on Saturday next.)