THE RED TENNIS SHOES.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVII, Issue 20560, 10 May 1930, Page 18 (Supplement)

THE RED TENNIS SHOES.

BY ARNOULD GALOPIN

CHAPTER XIV.-(Continued.) 'Another idea h;ul come ino my head [which required "careful thinking out. My .idea was this: Allan Dickson,-as 1 knew him, would leave n» .'.one unturned j to recapture tho vagabond who had been so unceremoniously dragged out of*, the hands of the police. Now, Tramp, woll known, as he admitted, to the police," ,would be very easy to recapture, and his return to captivity meant the discovery of the address of his rescuer. He could innko the same use of Tramp as I had made. I owed it to my friend Brooks, to the pretty princess of the 'Arabian Nights,.and to the faithful Alar to prevent anything of the kind happening. There was only one way to secure this, and that was by warning Tramp. ''The open-air philosopher would certainly understand my reason. I thought for some time on what was the best disguise to adopt for another visit to Whitechapel, and decided a fter reflect ion that the simplest course would bo to present myself in my usual clothes. Fortuno favoured me, for Tramp was still in luck, and lie was lunching. Ho ,was evidently surprised to see me. "What do you want?" he asked. " I'm an honest man. I've done no harm to jinybody." ... '• Nobody thinks you have, I replied, with a smile. " I want to talk to yon, that's all, and you needn't worry. I m not a policeman." . This seemed to reassure, him, and alter I had , paid his bill for him, we went outside together. _ , ' " Don", you recognise me? L asKeci. Tramp looked me up and down. " No," he said, " 1 don t. "Well." I said, "I am the employer of vour sister, Mabel. We talked together the other day, but 1 was disgU''C)f course," he said. "1 didn't recognise vou. Voii will excuse me getting lid'of that suit, won't it was much too elegant for me.' "That's all right.,'l ramp. I said, >ou are free to do what you like. Now. ell me, have vou seen the detective again, the one who took away your shoes.' "No. sir, not yet, but " Listen, Tramp," I said, do you trust me?" Once more he hesitated. " Tell me ves or no," 1 said. 1 hey le looking for you,-and if they catch you ■ again, you can't depend on being rescued "What have they got against mo? he asked. "What liavo I done! Why should they take me again 7 " Because/' I said, " they think jou are the murderer." " And you lmve come to save me. he ■ asked doubt fully. _ M . " I am interested in you, 1 said. " Your sister lias mentioned you, so that I took an interest in you before I saw y °"'Mabel has talked about mc? She alwavs said that she wouldn't mention my name because I was a disgrace to the familtf." " She didn't exactly mention your name." I admitted. " But I knew very- • well that the clothes she accumulated went to someone." , > • -\ . ... " And so," said the vagrant, ironically, •' you thought that Mabel had a brother „ and that her brother was John Tramp. / " Brother' or father, or son, or cousin, •what matter ? I -wanted to know the man Mabei was interested in, and so 1 followed the plan of the detective. I was astonished when I found that Mable s protege was the man my friends had rescued from the police.' "What?" said «■ Tramp. " You know those brave chaps who saved me, and you know the gentlemau who gave mo this sovereign 1" f , ." " 1 have told you that he was a friend of mine." . .. .. "Then tell me why this gentleman is so kind to mc, when lie knows nothing about me." ' , . , " We knew that the police had arrested an inrtocer.it man, and-mv friends, and I ure always ready ,to come to the help of those who are falsely accused. Tramp shook his head. lie evidently found it hard lo believe that so niuch'.disinterested devotion was* to bs found- on ilio earth,, and I had to admit to myself that an explanation was needed _ . " You see, Tramp," I said, " my friends and I belong to the League for the. Defence of Individual Liberty." Tramp did not look very enlightened. " You don't know the League?" " T can't say I'do." " It exis.ts all the same, and you are a witness." . . " Mabel never spoke of you in that way." "She didn't know," I said. "We do our work quietly." " Now Tramp." I said. " you must be more careful Don't speak of me to. your sister." " There is no fear of that." "And then," .I said, "you see how imprudent you were in giving the address of your rescuers. It was all right, it might not have been. Will you bo careful ■ that whatever happens not to disclose the address to the police?"Tramp agreed readily, and, having setlied that point. I took my leave of him. If Dickson saw ,bim again he would be rearrested, and I decided that the important thing was for C'oloncl Brooks to get hold of him as soon as possible. CHAPTER XV. My next step was to go home and make myself presentable to' call on Colonel Brooks. The necessity of arranging to get Tramp out of harm's way and the danger iin which the Colonel and I stood was .sufficient justification for immediate action; When I arriveo at my house, the servant had two note: for mc, the first from Allen Dickson. Its terms were so pressing and, I may say, so strange, that it was elementary prudence to reply at ontfe. There was a reference to my lethargy, this tinib the word was put in inverted commas, which was highly significant. Dickson said he was a waiting to see mo at the Yard, where Sir Richard Stephens wanted certain explanations. Short of inventing excuses, which would have been a very doubtful policy, there was nothing for it hut to comply. 'lhe second letter was of a different Order 11 It was from Lady Stephens. " Come to see mo as soon as possible "she wrote. " That- woman is coming at four o'clock and she is demanding an enormous I don't want If) he alone with her and it would be.move dangerous still to refuse to .see her You can safely come: ho will he awav.". " Curse Betsy." 1 exclaimed, crumpling up the- paper. " Not being able to hold mo, the wretched creature takes her revenge on Lady Stephens. Dickson can do what he j leases, hut I'm not going to leave her alone with that woman.'' My mind was made up. I reai.s'd that this Was the end of everything events and men seemed to he conspiring against us. If I had an hour to play with, I would . seek the help of Brooks, who would no doubt find a way of getting mo out of - my difficulties, hut there was no time to get Rudolph Street • It was now half-past three, and Betsy was due at four o'clock. I hastened to "Sir Richard Stephens's house, realising as I went how anwinzly imprudent it was on the part of Lady Stephens to summon me there in these cir-. cumstances, when her husband might return at any moment. I found her in great distress, her eyes red from recent weeping. We had barely shaken hands when the door bell sonnded,.. . " That will be she, said Lady Stephens. Will you please open; I have sent the servants out." Betsy Iloggart was taken completely by surprise when I met her al the dooi. " You here?" she stammored. " Come in," I said sternly. ' Sho followed m 6 into 1 the moudoir, where Lady Stephens, i with the remarkable adaptability of her sex, had com-1 pletely recovered her calm and was oven smiling.

A STORY OF LOVE, MYSTERY, INTRIGUE, ADVENTURE.

" Good morning, madam," said Betsy, with an incompletely successful attempt at firmness in her voice. " So it's you," I said, " who have presumed to writo threateing letters to Ladv Stephens." " Yes, sir, it's mo," said Betsy, insolently. "Madam," I said.. "I have been awaie of you- attempts at intimidation .for a long time. I havo been to your house and you will now realise why. Be careful. The game you aro playing has an ucrly name. It is called blackmail and is a punishable offence.' I felt ratjio-' pleased with myself, and Lady Stephens was visibly re-assured. " It's all the same to me," said Betsy Iloggart. " You may put the law. on me, hut I'll do what. I want to do.' " And what may that be?" " I have proofs that this lady has a lover, and I know his name. oil cannot prevent me telling Sir Richard Stephens. The terrible little woman looked capable of anything, ,and the situation was obviously critical. Wo might bluff, but Betsy's position was impregnable if sho cared lo stand firm. " You sav.'' I replied, trying to keep cool, " that you will tell Sir Richard Stephens everything. What are you going to tell him?" ' ' I shall tell him about the carryingson of his wife, and I will give hirn the name of the man." " Do you know in whoso house you aro speaking?" 1 asked. "I don't care. They can send jno to prison if they like, but I shall 1 talk first. Nothing will stop me." •' Nothing, (hat is, except the money that you had the impudence to demand from Lady Stephens." ... "Sho must decide for hersolf; it is in her hands whether her husband knows or not." I tried the effect of the threats on my part. " I suppose you know that I shall have you arrested?" ( ■ " Very well, arrest mo, but that won t shut my mouth." " Nobody would believe you," I said, doing my best to appear indifferent.. Sir Richard Stephens will have no difficulty in knowing Whose ward to take where his wife's honour is concerned." " If the ladv hasn't got nothing to be ashamed of, why has she already tried to shut inv mouth?" " Anil what exactly does that mean, please?" "The lady knows very well, and so do you, since you are her. . . adviser. Lady Stephens has already me two hundred pounds to keep quiet." I looked at Lady Stephens, who had itow gone deathly pale again. I felt that a crisis was approaching. " You arc a wretched, wicked woman, she interjected. "You are lying. If I sent you money, it was only to avoid scandal in my house." i€ All, sneered Betsy, "so you admit that vou tried to buy me." " this is horrible," said Lady Stephens. " Turn that woman out of my house." > Betsy was unmoved. " Turn me out if you like, but I 11 speak, I'll shout it in the streets. I'll tell the whole world that Lady Stephens has a lover arid that his name is Edgar Pilling. Putting me in prison won't alter that." ,'l ' Wo were clearly in face of that mfjst dangerous of living creatures, a woman capable of anything. Lady Stephens pre-; sented a picture of complete dejection, while Betsy repeated: " I'll tell them. I'll tell them." A noise at the door -broke in on this tense situation, and a.smile of triumph came over Betsy's face. " That's Sir Richard," she said. " I told him. You can't stop me talking now." • W'hat immediately followed I cannot say. Events moved too" quickly. I heard a dull sound, a short, sharp cry, and Lady Stephens was lying prostrate on the ground. ' . ■ Without reflecting, I rushed out of the room, turned the key on the outside and went down to meet Sir Richard in the hall. Betsy, finding- iferself locked in, rent the air meanwhile with her cries. Tf I had bad-time to. reflect, I could not have acted more suitably. I greeted Sir Richard -in the hall. " Sir Richard," I said, "yoiV will pardon me having invaded your house in- this way: I am Edgar Pilling, you will remember, whom you had charged to find out why your name was on Mansfield's list. Well. I have done it, by laying hands on Mansfield's mistress. The plan was to blackmail you because ofe your position." , Sir Richard looked [puzzled, and I Jhought suspicious.' The shrill cries of Betsy continued during the whole of this interview. " You shall understand everything," I said. " May I speak to you a moment alone ?" " Como into my room," he replied. " What is the meaning," he asked, "of this note that I received at my office ?" " It is easily explained, " I replied, with a sang Jroid which surprises me when I reflected upon it. " Mansfield had the idea of taking advantage of Lady Stephens's delicate health and extreme sensitiveness to intimidate her by spreading stories against her honour. That is why your name was on the list of his victims. He is dead, ancl there is no reason to suppose that he had commenced to carry out his plan. He had a mistress, . however, and she was an fait with his plans. I have been watching this woman for some days, and I found out that she wrote a letter to Lady Stephens saying she would come this afternoon. I gather, too, that she has had the audacity to summon you to your own house." " You knew that?" said Sir Richard, Surprised. > " Yes," I replied, with great assurance, " I have followed the odious plans of .Mansfield's mistress step by step." A more than usual piercing cry came from the boudoir, and the horrible thought flashed across my mind : .« " Suppose the - fury attacks Lady Stephens!" _ ; . , " You can hear the condition she is in," I said. " I am really, distressed at such a scene in your house." "You have done-quite rightly," said Sir Richard. " I will speak to this woman mvself." W r e went toward? the boudoir, and I opened the door, which, as stated, I nad locked on the outside. Lady Stephens lay oh the carpet, more dead than alive. Betsy, red with fury, rushed at Sir Richard. " You are Sir Richard Stephens," she cried, " I don't care for anyone. I'll tell you what I*ll tell the whole about, the goings-on in your house. 'lhey tried to muzzle me, but I'll speak all the same." " Restrain this woman, Mr. Pilling,," said Sir Bichard. _ i 1 • " Yes," siid Betsy, pointing towards Lady Stephens. "Your wife lias deceived you and I've got the proof. I know the man." " He is called Edgar Pilling, yes. Edgar " Let :is havo his name." I said boldly. Pilling," shouted Mansfield's mistress, in a frenzy. I shrugged my shoulders, and turned to Sir Richard, who had become very pale.* " Clear out of my house," he said, walking towards Beisy in a threatening attitude. Meanwhile, I walked over to Lady Stephens's writing desk and took up the letters which she had written to Lady Stephens. " This," I said, "Is what this miserable creature has had the effrontery to write to your wife." Betsy by now had exhausted her hysterical energy. " Leave my house!" repeated Sir Richard. " You shall be dealt with in the proper way." I seized the wretched woman by the shoulders, directed her towards the doors, and, in a semi-dazed condition, she walked out of the house.

(COPYMGBT.)

CHAPTER XVI. How true it is that " fortune favours the brave!" I can hardly recognise to-day. that almost superhuman burst of mental energy which brought me out of the most critical situation in which I have over found myself. Looking back, I cannct recognise myself. When I found myself in the boudoir again, after the rather violent expulsion of Betsy, Sir Richard Stephens was leaning over his wife. I was too well used to the hysterical crises of-Lady Stephens to be as"much clisturbed by them as was, her husband. On the instructions of Sir Richard, I found a bottle of smelling salts which assisted in restoring the unfortunate lady. Sho opened her eyes and began to babble incoherently. I confess to some uneasiness concerning what sho would say. but, fortunately, nothing of what was intelligible in her remarks was compromising to either of us. As soon as sho had fully recovered consciousness I said: " Reassure yourself, Lady Stephens. The woman who sought to blackmail you is no longer here. Sir Richard and I have turned her out and sho won't conic back." Sir Richard added very opportunely: " I thank you, Mr. Pilling, you have done mc a service that 1 shall never foiget." Sir Richard and 1 Kfted her on to a sofa and left her in tho care of the chambermaid, who had now returned. 1 followed Sir Richard into his room, with that feeling of uneasiness which I could never escape in the presence of this man, with whom, to say the least, I had been Jess than candid. " Mr. Pilling," he said. " I owe you not only my thanks, but also my congratulations on the manner in which you havo discharged the delicate task which I confided to you." _ , I made a gesture of repudiation, but he went on: " No, no, sir. I gave you a very difficult task and I realise that you havo had much to contend with." ( " Betsy is certainly a tough customer,' " She is a monster," said Sir Ritiliard, emphatically, " and it must havo lequired a good deal of skiM, as well as energy, to deal with her. You, Air. 1 illiiig, aro fortunate in being endowed both with tho one and the other. However, Alan Dickson had already told me that J might have complete confidence in you." " lie is very kind," I remarked. " Not' kind, but just," said Sir Richard. " I am very well satisfied with what , you have done for me." " My only regret," I said. " is that your house should have been tho scene of such violent events. I did my best to prevent it." "My poor wife is still very much upset. In her delicate state, I am afraid of what may be the result, but, in any case, you havo nothing to reproach yourself with, Mr. Pilling. You have done everything that it was possible for you to do. Y~ou can lie assured of my esteem and of my gratitude. And now, how much do I owe you?" This took me by surprise. " Y T es." went on Sir Richard. " I gave you a job to do, and you have done it. How much do I owe you ?" " Really," I said, " I cqn assure you that the honour you have done me and my own satisfaction—" Sir Richard interrupted mc: "I shall be very annoyed, Mr. Pilling, if you talk in that way. Suppose I give you a cheque for a hundred pounds." My emotion held mo silent,- and ' Sir Richard, opening his desk, took out a chequebook and commenced to writo rapidly. "I never gave a cheque with more pleasure," he said. " This wretched woman," he went oil. " ought to be arrested, I suppose, but I shall need your services and the skill of Allan Dickson. I don't want Edith's— Lady Stephen's—name mixed lip in this affair." " I am at your service, sir," I said. »We renewed our expressions of mutual esteem, and I withdrew. The most pressing thing now was to settle with Allan Dickson. That my rather sinister methods had surprised him"was only too certain, and, of all my adversaries, Dickson was the most terrible and the most invulnerable. I should need a good deal more skill yet to deal with him, for he held in his hand a pi6ce of evidence which, sooner or later, might be my undoing. Meanwhile, however, 1 was furnished with a plausible excuse for the manner in which I had occupied my time, lie was not at home when I arrived at his house, but his servant, who knew me, asked me to wait, as ho was expected back" at any moment. I sat down in a sort of waiting room. A few yards away was the door of Allan Dickson's office, and a sudden thought came to me. Unfortunately, I realised that it was impracticable. Behind that door must be those tennis shoes of mine which, soooner or later,' might land me into trouble. Suppose I removed that piece of evidence! But I was the only person' in the house, and it. would not take long to direct Dickson's suspicions toward myself. To take those shoes would be to proclaim that I had something to hide. Yet, I had hard work in keeping my eyes off the'door, and I needed all my power of self-mastery to prevent myself from slipping into Dit:kson-'s room. The turning of a key in the front door cut short my temptation. Allan Dickson appeared in the doorway: " Well," he said, " What is the meaning of all this ?" i " Congratulate me," I said. "On what?" he asked, shortly. " You charged me with being lukewarm." " I certainly did." " You were wrong." " Well, we shall see. Como into my room." I realised that it was one thing to deceive Betsy Hoggart and Sir Richard Stephens, and quite another to deal with Alan Dickson. "Well, what is it?" he asked curtly. "I have been at Sir Richard Stephens' house," 1 said. " What were you doing there " He will tell you himself, for ho has thanked me very warmly for the manner in which I have, carried out my task." " Explain yourself, Pilling. 1 don't like these riddles." " It's very simple," I said. " You put me on tho track of Mansfield's mistress." "..And you did nothing to find her." " Excuse me, I didn't talk, but I worked. I have found the woman." "Ah, you know her name?" " Her name, her address and her plans. I have even been to see her several times." " Very good. But let us return to Sir Richard Stephens." " Well, this woman is a very good pupil of Mansfield, and she knows all tho secrets of those whom ho was blackmailing." " Ah! And Stephens was one of them." " Yes, but principally his wife." " What did I tell you ?" said Dickson, smiling. " Well, T followed your instructions and havo got hold of a certain Betsy Hoggart." " And Lady Stephens has been having adventures, has she ?" " I don't know. As a matter of fact, I don't very much believe—" " WoU, stick to facts." , " Well. I presented myself at Stephens' house and got from Lady Stephens per- ' mission to be there when necessary.- This Betsy Hoggart was there when I arrived. She had apparently had the impudence to summon Sir Richard Stephens himself to como there." " Yes," said Dickson, " I know "lie had a note/'.

" You can guess what happened. I | found myself face to face with this woman and told her a few plain'truths. Then Sir Richard arrived, and the wretched woman, finding herself outwitted, burnt her boats. She accused Lady Stephens of the most horrible tilings, arid we had to turn her out of the liouso. Sir Richard intends to have her arrested, and he wants our assistance. So, you see, I've not been wasting my time." "You've not * done badly," conceded Dickson. " Only why all this mystery ? Why not have told mo the whole thing, instead of being so confoundedly mysterious and leaving me to suspect —I may as well bo frank —to suspect that you had murdered Mansfield yourself." " Oh," 1 protested. " Well, my dear Pilling,' a man doesn't act in tho way you have unless he has a reason for it usually. However, you got there, and that's what matters. Or not quite," he corrected himself, " for wo have still to clear up the mui'der of Mansfield and the disappearance of tho 'Stephens dossier." " As to that," I said, with assumed carelessness, " I don't believe there was a Stephens dossier. I think Sir Richard's namo was simply put on the list because lie was an old man with a young wife, and it is always easy to presume that tho husband will liavo some suspicions' about tho perfect fidelity of his wife in those circumstances." "You don't think she had a lover?" "No; if she had I think she would have made more difficulty about admitting a detective into the house." " Yes, that sounds reasonable," said Dickson, " but what exactly did tho woman say ?" ~ , " Oh, sho talked wildly. She said the lover was Edgar Pilling." Dickson smiled enigmatically. " Well," he said, " now I will proceed to deal with Tramp. You have' served mo very well, though I wish you had done it with less mystification." CHAPTER XVII. So far nothing was compromised. It is true that those tell-tale tennis shoes were at Dickson's house, but they had not \vet put him upon my track. Tramp was still at liberty, and, thanks to the manner in which I had twisted events, I had, for the time, at any rate, regained Dickson's confidence. Good fortune of this kind is very well calculated to turn tho head of a young man, particularly after an emotional crisis such as that which I had passed through. It is therefore hardly to ho wondered at that I was in a mood to tempt fortune. One needs to bo much older than twenty-five to realise how dangerous it is to do this. Fortune is not to be played with, because she has smiled on you for ofice. Always, sooner or later, you will bo made to realise how inconstant a mistress she can be. I know this now, but I did not know it then. The most foolish tiling I could do at that moment was to call on Lady Stephens at her house, but the memory of her distress during the extraordinary scene •<) which I had last seen her haunted me. It is trim that Sir Richard had asked mo to come to his house again. 1 presented myself therefore early in the following ' afternoon. The maid look in my card, and l found Sir Richard at home. " You will forgive me," 1 said. " I'm not here now as a detective. I simply called to inquire after Lady Stephens." The good man appeared to be touched by my solicitude for his wife. "It is very kind of you, Mr. Pilling," he said, " aiid 1 am sure Lady Stephens will appreciate it. 1 am thankful to say she is very much better. I hope you will stay and have a cup of coffee with us. We* had a late lunch,' and coffee is just being served." I found Lady Stephens smilingly awaiting me, and 1 thought I had never seen her looking more beautiful. " I can never be able to thank you sufficiently, Mr. Pilling," she said, and it was almost inconceivable that this smiling and radiant lady could have been the same person whom 1 had seen a prey to such anguish only the day before. We talked gaily about everything, the theatres, racing," sports—everything except Betsy Hoggart. Dickson's name was not mentioned, until, just as I was leaving, Sir Richard charged me with his regards to the great detective. Nothing is so powerful as the atmosphere of a society drawing room for smothering the detective and reawakening the man of the .world. I felt it impossible to settle down to dull, everyday work after this very pleasant visit, and decided that it would ha wise to call on Colonel Brooks. The reasons for this were obvious enough. 1 had to discuss with him how wo could get Tramp out of harm's way. As long as he was at liberty he was a source of continual danger, both to himself and to me. Moreover, I was not at all sorry to have an excuse for finding myself once more in that exotic and attractive atmosphere. Tt was not that 1 was enamoured of tho pretty little fairy talc princess, but there was something very gratifying to one's eyes, a feast for the imagination, in those Oriental surroundings in the heart of London's West End. J have always had what I believe is called the artistic temperament, and perhaps I should have been a poet if hard necessity had not compelled me to make my living by more rapid means. It was the giant Atar who admitted me. He bowed to the ground as usual, and led me into tho colonel's room. "You again. Mr. Pilling!" said the colonel. "It is very good of you to conic, and Mrs. Brooks will be as pleased to see you as I am." The sounds of the guitar were audible as he spoke, and the atmosphere was still heavy with scents. 1 found Mrs. Brook lying on tho sofa again with a sort of triangular guitar. " Don't stop. Dehlia," said the colonel. "I am sure Mr. ' Pilling likes music." " No, Ralph. I play when I am alone. I couldn't play before anybody." " Ah, well, we mustn't contradict her," said the colonel paternally. After an exchange of politenesses I went straight to the point with the colonel. " Colonel," 1 said. " This is not merely a courtesy visit. There is something I want to speak to you about." " Yes?" lie said, and then added rather disdainfully: "Do tho police want to meddle in our affairs ?" " Well, they're not exactly threatening you nor mo," I said, " at the moment, but we have to be careful." "And why?" "Well, you know Tramp?" " Has that unfortunate nan got into their hands again?" " No, ho was free up to.yesterday, but, naturally enough, the police will be looking for him, and you know enough of his habits to know that he is not very well able to hide himself." " Let them catch him," said the Colonel, " and we will release him again." " No doubt, Colonel, but, in the meantime, ho may talk. You know how cloviir tho police are in dragging secrets out of peopo. They have not much to learn from mediaeval torturers in that matter." " Really?" said the Colonel, " I don't think there is anybody alive who would make me talk'if I didn't want to." " You are not Tramp," I said. " Remomber that he gave mo your address when I was a perfect stranger to him, disguised as a beggar. No doubt, I look his fancy, but what I did another might do." " Do you think Tramp, who seemed to me to be an honest man, would betray his rescuers ?" " Oh, cortninly not. He is very grateful. But suppose ho were taken again in a police raid. It does not follow that his prudence would be equal to his gratitude. In my opinion the only way to make Tramp safo is to get hold of him before the police do." " That s a very good idefl, but would he ho willing to surrender his liberty?" " He wouldn't like it," I said, " but I think he would do it for you, Colonel. " Well, we shall certainly feel more easy when there is nobody who cap tell Scotland Yard people about my own hojno where I intend to live in peace." (To be continued on Saturday next.)