MASTER OF FATE.
BY FRANK PRICE,
(COPYRIGHT.)
CHAPTER XII —(Continued.) At Grey Prior! Then what Is she doing here! Why havo you brought her to me?" asked Morrison. " She was brought my the man who is supposed to havo killed her," said Robert. " Lane!" " No. He is not suspected. Nobody knows what happened. Lane was shot at tho same time but, thanks to a bulletproof vest he was wearing, escaped with his life." "Lane, too! Who did it!" [ " The man was seen. He hid in tho house. An unfortunato maid servant who met him was murdered in cold blood to prevent hor giving the alarm and, in tho confusion caused by that and the search for him, ho returned to the office and carried this poor woman's body away. 110 had a car waiting in the lane and was seen to place tho body In it by a policeman whom he seriously injured. He was a man of tremondous size and strength, with huge shoulders, and spoke either in a foreign language or with an almost unintelligible accent." "Maurice Latimer!" exclaimed Morrison. "Is that his nam®! Does Lan« know it!" " Didn't he mention It!" '' No. Ho denies having seen anyone, except Miss Lacroix In the office and dinclaims all previous knowledge of her. His story is that ho entered tho room to find her searching the drawers of his desk, and from her dress, supposed her to bo a man. According to him the shots must have been fired immediately, und ho was rendered unconscious without seeing who attacked him. "Ho says Beryl was searching the drawers of his desk? What for?' " That ho did not say. But somebody had been at them. They were open when wo burst into the room after hearing tho shots which had been fired from Lano'3 own pistol taken from one of them. Lano declares that nothing but a commonplace burglary was being attempted, and has impressed that view on tho police." " Did ho call in the police!" demanded Morrison quickly. " No. That was done while he was still unconscious, and when he heard of it ho was no moro pleased than you would have been tho other night if they had appeared when much the same sort, of thing had happened in your fiat." "What do you mean by that?" "Itis an obvious coincidence. If Miss Lacroix was looking for tho same thing that wa3 not found here " " Sho couldn't havo been. She knew it was not thero!" Morrison uttered the words almost to himself while his brows were knit in perplexity. " Did Maurice Latimer know that, too?" asked Robert sharply._ Tho question brought Morrison up with a jerk and ho glared frowningly at Loder. " What do you know of him?" he demanded fiercely. " You said that was the name of the man who brought her here. Was he tho same man that broke into your flat the other night? Is he connected with Mary Latimer, whose daughter is at Grey Prior now, waiting for the clue that will enable her to punish tho man who wrecked her mother's lifo?"
"Mary Latimer's daughter!" Morrison had recoiled at the name. " What are you saying ? Who sent yon here to talk to mo of Mary Latimer ?" Ho made a sudden movement as if to fling himself on Robert but stopped as his foot touched what lay between them, and at tho same moment both ho and Loder held their breath, listening. Tho sound of light-hearted laughter camo to them from tho staircase below. Tho two men stood motionless, staring at tho body of Beryl. They had been so intent on their dialogue that they had almost forgotten its presence, but the prospect of being found with it botween them struck them with dismay. Tho merry voices drew nearer and detached words floated up to them. Evidently a party was returning from a dance in tho highest spirits. A girl's laugh rang out clear and musical, and Robert shuddered at tho thought of tho shock sho would receive if sne came suddenly on the sight of that crumpled bloodstained corpse. " This mustn't bo seen!" he exclaimed. " Let us carry it inside." They lifted tho body inside the door and laid it beside tho wall. Morrison shut tho door and slipped the bolt homo while Robert, looking along the passago, saw the scared faco of the man-servant, Porter, peering out from a slightly opened door. Morrison turned and looked down at Beryl. " What tho devil is to be done about thi3?" ho muttered.
" There is only ono course possible," said Robert. " You must call in the police. "It that your idea?" Morrison gave him a quick furtivo glance. "What else is possible? You can't hido tho body and you certainly can't got rid of it. Besides, what have you to fear ? The manner of her death is known; you can't bo suspected of that." " That's so, I suppose, but—" Ho broko off and wont to tho door of the dining room. " Come in here. That isn't cheerful company!" Ho turned on tho lights and Robert went in. Morrison caught sight of his sorvant and called him. "Porter!" Ho drew the door to, remaining on the outside, and Robert heard tho man come along tho passage and a short whispered conversation. Then Morrison entered the room and shut the door. Putting his hands in tho pockets of his dressing gown, ho advanced toward Robert. " So yot. think there is nothing for it than to send for tho polico?" "What else can you do? They know all about the murder; there is a watch being kept on all roads for tho car in which tho body was taken away—" " Then how did it get to my door?" " Tho man who brought it must have Flipped through tho cordon by lane 3 and by-roads." " Is that how you came ?" " No: I followed tho main road. I was fcloppod, but had no difficulty in getting through. The police aro looking for a two-seatei driven by a man whose description they have—the description you recognise as that of Maurice Latimer." " What do you know of him 1" " Nothing. I never heard tho name nntil vou mentioned it." "You cpoko of Mary Latimer's daughter." " I repoated a message I was asked to deliver to you." " By whom ?" "Look hero, Morrison!" exclaimed Robert, growing restive under this crossexamination, •' all this is matter for the police, and the sooner you call them the better. If you aro not going to do it, I shall!" Ho moved toward tho door, but Morrison barred the way. " That, has been dono already," ho said, in a mti'fl conciliatory tone than lie had been using. " I told Porter to attend to it. They will bo hero at any moment now. 1 think I havo a right to ask questions considering tho circumstances, but there is no reason for us to quarrel. I'm all on edgo and so aro you. A drink will do ua both good, and then wo shall ho able to talk quietly." He went to tho sideboard. " A cocktail with a kick in it foi me. What's yours ?" " I'll have the same," said Robert. " Good." Morrison got out glasses, shaker, and bottles and busied himself with his back toward Robert. "You haven't told mo how you got here," he said.
A THRILLING STORY OF LOVE, CRIME AND ADVENTURE.
" I drore In Mr. Hearstwood'g touring ! car." " Alone ?'l " Yes.'" " What did yoa do with the car!" Morrison came forward with tho glasses, one of which he handed to Robert, j " It's in the street. 1 came straight np." " Yon must have got a shock when you found that at my door! So did I when you routed me out of my beauty sleep! Hero's to wipe it out!" Morrison took a long drink and Robert did tho same. As the liquid coursed down his throau a startled look sprang into his eyes. Just for an instant he stood staring at Morrison and then he went to the floor as if ho had been poleaxed. CHAPTER Xm. DOPED. Robert Loder stirred uneasily and groaned. Hammers seemed to be beating on hi 3 temples, threatening to split his skull, ficrco gnawing pains racked his intestines and a dull heaviness lay on his limbs as though they were being crushed by some palpable weight. He forced his eyolids asunder and saw nothing. Either he had been stricken blind or impenetrable darkness surrounded him.
For gome minutes he remained perfectly still, trying to realise what had happened fo him, at first without avail; then that burning pain within reminded him of something. Out of the darkness the fsce r.f Peter Morrison seemed to loom, as he had gazed on it in that short moment between the time he swallowed the drink and tho blank that came as he fell.
" Doped!" The idea came slowly to his drugged brain. " What did he give me? I know—l've heard of it—in India—what is it called ?"
Ho tried to raise a hand to his aching head but strive as he would his arm scarcely moved. He let it fall back and -was still again, struggling to realise his position. He was half sitting, half lying, hunched in a corner of what he thought must be a deeply-cushioned couch; his nerveless fingers, scrabbling at the seat, recognised the feel of leather. That room ho had been in was furnished in leather; he was still there then! But why had he been drugged ? Wny this darkness t Why ? Why ? Why ? Tho word went, weakly monotonous, .through his mind, and he felt that he was sliding off into unconsciousness again. Ho clutched at the last vestige of awareness and, exerting all his power of will held on. Tho threat passed and his brain began to clear a little, though the excruciating pain remained. He tried to'move his arms once more, and this time succeeded in getting both his hands to his head, where, a.i he went to clasp them on his throbbing temples ho was surprised to encounter the peak of a cap, and again his disordered mind began to wander off in trailing questions. Why was it there. Why wear h cap in a room, sitting on a leather couch ? Why— ? This would never do! He must find where ho was and just what happened to him! He made a mighty effort to collect himself and. lunging forward, pushed himself upward with his hands. Tho weight was still on his legs, but he had succeeded in forcing himself nearly erect when he received what seemed a terrific blow on tho top of tho head and collapsed into tho cushions with millions of lights dancing before his eyes and shooting darts of agony stabbing through his brain. Cowering in the corner of the seat, shaking and trembling with the pain, he waited for a renewal of the assault, raging inwardly against tho weakness that made him helpless. Nothing happened and no sound that told of another presence in tho darkness broke the silence.
" What devil's game is being played with me?" he muttered fretfully. The first acuteness of agony passed off and he stirred again. This time he determined to know where ho was and who had attacked him. He fumbled in the pockets of his overcoat, found his matchbox, opened it with difficulty, and striking a light held it above his head. A cry broke from him and his hand jerked so violently that the flame was extinguished and the match stalk went flying from his grasp. In the fleeting instant its light lasted he had seen, staring at him out of the surrounding gloom, a ghastly cadaverous face with hollow cheeks and sunken eyes, pallid with the ashen hue of death. " Who aro you?" ho gasped hoarsely in a voice ho could scarcely force above a whisper. '' What do you want with me? What are you going to do?" Thore was no answer, and he felt his flesh creeping in the dark, uncanny silence. There had been something eerie in his glimpse of that wan, tortured face glaring so intently at him from a distance of no more than six or eight feet, nnd now, as ho sat back seeing nothing, hearing only the flurried beating of his own heart, a sense of horror gripped him. The black darkness seemed to close round him, the very air was heavy with the weight that pressed on him, and he fancied ho could scent an atmosphere of death, as though this place in which he was wore a charncl house. "Who are you ?" he cried again. Why don't you speak?" His voice was stronger now, and the words came faintly back in a mumbled echo, but there was no other sound. Suddenly he sat up, still staring toward the spot whore the face had his mind had all at onco reproduced the vision in all its details. Ho took out another match .struck it, raised it. held it there. The face sprang into sight again and in front of it was an uplifted hand in which there flamed a lighted match. Ho was looking at his own reflection in a A long sigh which, though it was almost a groan, was a sigh of infinito relief, came from him and he glanced about as the match burned down and flickered out. With an exclamation of astonishment he realised that he was sitting in the back seat of Mr. Hearstwood's big car, in he had driven to Morrison's flat; the hood was up, accounting for the blow wluch drove him back when he attempted to rise, and the vision that had so startled him was nothing but his own reflection in the windscreen. Ho lay back and laughed weakly. lh» discovery had brought a revulsion of feeling that was almost too much for lnm, but presently he got himself an hand acain. There was still much lie had to learn. Why was ho in the car and where was it, shrouded in this inky gloom which no faintest ray illumined? His mind was growing clearer and he was able to shake off most of the superstitious fancies that had opprossed him, though the sense ol some uncanny presence still lingered; but he was recovering mastery of his nerves. Ho made an attempt to rise, talcing caro to keep his aching nead from contact with the hood only to be checked by the weight which lay on his feet and the lower part of his legs. _ For the first time ho clcarlv recognised this as being external (o himself nnd, lighting another match, ho looked down, recoiling instantly with a. wild cry and a frantic effort that swung his feet on to tho seat beside him. Ho had looked into the dead face of Beryl Lacroix! It was her corpse, twisted and doubled so that it would lie in the spaco afforded by the floor of tho cari that had pressed so heavily against him. " My God. I must have light or I shall go mad!" he gasped. "Light! Light!" Reckless of pain now, ho reached forward until his fingers grasped tho back of tho front scat, across which lio scrambled and, feeling foverishly over the switchboard, snapped on tho powerful headlights. Thoro was an instant glare that blinded him for some seconds; when his eyes grow accustomod to it, he saw that the beams from tho lamps wero being flung back from the white-washed surface of a wall a couplo of yards in front of them. Similar walls wero on either side of tho car at about tho same distance. (To be continued on Saturday, wart.),
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New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 20306, 13 July 1929, Page 16 (Supplement)
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2,617MASTER OF FATE. New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVI, Issue 20306, 13 July 1929, Page 16 (Supplement)
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