THE WRONG THAT WAS DONE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVII, Issue 20564, 15 May 1930, Page 16

THE WRONG THAT WAS DONE.

BY JOHN IRONSIDE.

CHAPTER a v xi.— continued). The problem became more complex the more it was discussed, and no amount of discussion could carry them any further tha: night. Martin rose to go. Stephon wont with him, as ho had done ttily a few hoars seemed more like days." '* It's an awful thing—an awful shock, old man," ho said nervously. "And a nasty business if those—things should Iks missing. I say—" ho moistened his dry lips with- his tongue—"what should you think tho mortgages could be?" " How,should 1 know? She never said IV word to me." " I'd better send a wire to mother to fomo home to-morrow. She's at Bristol." " There's not tho least necessity for ithat. Good-night, Stephen." He mounted and rode oft, down tho dii\e and by tho high road, through tho village, where his cottage stood alone. As ho fitted in his latch-key a tall figure emerged'from the shadow of the house, and camo quietly to him. Martin, turned, on tho dctensive. r All right Strong. It's I, Norton." " Tho man of all others I was wishing 'for," said Martin fervently. " Though I never hoped or expected to see you toright. Come in." Briefly ho related what had occurred, end Nortou listened, interrupting only .with an occasional and pertinent question. " Wo must havo a look at that bureau first. Can I go up with you now ? Dick's waiting for me in the car, off tho Shelford ' Itoad, just above the house.- I walked down. I wanted to see you about the ether affair —but that must keep." They found Mrs. Dennis in the kitchen, ;with Rover sleeping beside her, and, after .word'or two of explanation, Martin look his friend to the bedroom, where the dead woman was fiow laid decently on her bed, covered with a sheet. Martin indicated tho position in which lie had found her, and Norton, after producing and slipping on a pair of thin gloves, turned to the bureau. " I know tho hang of most of these things," ho said. " Don't touch it, Strong, or anything else." In half a minute he had found the secret spring. Tho drawers swung outward, revealing tho hidden receptacle, half-filled" with papers, as Kate Kennedy had described it. CHAPTER XVIII. > after the inquest. Martin drew a quick breath of relief. What he feared or suspected since he heard, such a short time ago, of the existence of -liis aunt s hidden treasuie, he scarcely knew. - Allready he half regretted the impulso that had prompted him to confide' in Norton, and enlist his aid. Expert aid, as he knew. "Then Mason was right. It was a heart attack, and no foul play._ Thank God lot' that," he said below his breath. Leave 'em there, Norton. No need to go through them to-night," " Great need!" Norton answered, but ■we'll look through them in another room. [We must, I say," as Martin motioned to ■restrain him in tho act of gathenng up the papers. " There's more in it than you may think." , . . " Better send the nurse to bed, ne suggested, as they went softly out of the 'death chamber, Martin carrying tho light. He was scrutinising the papers when Martin rejoined him. " Look over them for yourself, but don t touch them with your bare hand. .Got any gloves with you? No, of course, not, [Well, wait a bit, and I'll lend you mine. ' " There's her will. I haven't looked at it " Ho passed across a long blue envelope. " There are bonds, share certificates and scrip generally, worth a good deal I should say, and not negotiable. The thief knew what he—or she — was about. " The thief! Then " gasped Martin, those black suspicions rushing back to his mind. "Certainly. If what you. were told by Miss Kennedy is correct, and there s no reason to doubt it. These arc tho moitage bonds—you'll find them very interesting !_theso merely receipts. These"—he looked with a half smile at a very thin packet of'letters in foreign envelopes, tied with a bit of faded blue ribbon appear to bo old private letters. But where is the cash? Notes and go!d she said. I wonder •if /they were treasury or bank notes, or both? Anyhow, they're not hers." ; . Martin's mind was working furiously. Ho was glad lie had not told Norton of his interview with Stephen, and of his brother's preposterous request. He had not deliberately suppressed the information. The incident had been banished temporarily from his mind by the shock that followed. But it returned now and assumed sinister significance. " Just look through these and make a list of them," said Norton, peeling off his glflves and passing them to Martin. " I must take them away, and the loose drawer, to test for finger prints. Jll bring them back in a few hours." " Is that necessary?" Martin murmured irresolutely. " I'd rather—let it drop. It's not "as if anything we could do would bring her back to life—it might—it would ■—only bring more trouble, more tragedy." " It can't be dropped, but you've got to drop your ethical notions, my triend, of ,watching what goes on round you, and re■fraining from taking any part in it 0110 ,'tvay or another. That, attitude may be nil right for a Buddhist saint, but it ,won't do. ,in this wicked world of ours. And when you try to keep it up. .believe me, you do a deal of mischief in the long run. It's ono thing to abstain from doing evil yourself—especially from any particular form of wrong doing that doesn't happen to attract you—and quite another deliberately to shut, your eyes to evil-doing going on around you, of which you're per* iectly well aware and .won't raise a finger to stop it." Martin said nothing, and Norton continued mercilessly: " Can't you see now what that attitude inevitably leads to? The encouragement of crime! In this instance it lias led to your aunt's death " " There—can't bo any connection——" Marti!/ interposed hoarsely. " Thpre's a very close connection, unless I'm greatly mistaken. I don't say she was actually murdered—she died a natural death alright, poor old lady, if literally .to bo angered and frightened to death may be called 'natural,'—but whoever angered and frightened and robbed her would have murdered her if necessary, to achieve his—or iier—purpose. And, but foi< your passivity, all these months, that person would never have got his—or —her opportunity. That puts a big responsibility on you, Strong!" I d never—thought of it in that way." ' Don't think I'm unsympathetic, my dear fellow. 1 was a big fool myself when .T was your age. But you've got to face and deal with the hard facts of life, Martin,'as we all havo to, sooner or later." " Well, what do you want me to do?" " Leavo this matter in my hands. As you've got to do, wnether you like it or not. I value our friendship, I need scarcely - tell you that. But I'm taking charge of this investigation. It's my job .apd my duty to do so. You can help me ■ (by saying nothing whatsoever about me to fcnyono whomsoever. Understand ?"

(CorrniGiiT.)

A BRILLIANT AND THRILLING LOVE ROMANCE

— " You want to lio low still? louro not going to appear at the inquest?' "Just so. 1 don't want anyone—including Miss Kate Kennedy, even to know I'm in tho neighbourhood. And nothing about these missing valuables must come out at tho inquest, I 11 arrange for that. All you'll havo to 10, if tho question is raised, is to say that, so far as you know, tho contents of the bureau were intact, and are now in your solicitor's hands. As they will bo by that time. lie. will come over on Monday, bringing all these back with him. " 1 haven't got a solicitor." " You'll havo ono in a few hours. There are his name and address, ori the flap of that envelope, containing tho wilj. Ho was evidently your aunt's man of business, when she employed one. I know him well by name —as ho will know me."

Ho letl presently, taking the bulky parcel with him, and Martin saw him no moro for tho present. But he carried tut his arrangements, and evidently exerted influenco with important _ authorities, as Martin learned moro by inference than from any direct information derived from the solicitor, who motored over from Taunton on the Sunday afternoon. All that Sunday tho news that had spread like wildfiro through tho \illage, was discussed troni every possible point of view, and Monday morning found practically tho entire population, excepting the school children and mistress, assembled in and around C'rosscombe, the earliest arrivals admitted to tho dining room, where tho coroner held his court, tho rest in the garden and road. Tho proceedings were brief, ending with tho verdict, " Death from natural causes," and the customary expression of condolence with the relatives. Mrs. Lee was ono of tho lucky persons who got inside," for her husband was on. the jury, together with Seth Ridd,-and other " good men and true." " Did'eo seo Stephen Strong trying to look so glum! Though, to be sure, him and madam won't got a penny of what tho old lady left—and a pretty penny it's bound to bo. Mr. Martin will come in for tho lot, and ho do look bad, poor fellow—fair 'mazed with grief and worry."

Kate and Nan saw that—Nan paler and more subdued than she had ever been in her happy life. It was the fust time death had ever been close to her, for she could not remember her mother, and tho thought of her father, killed in battle far away, was so much more remote than this sudden and near tragedy. And it seemed hard that she was not allowed even a farewell look at the formidable old lady, with whom she had been wont to laugh and chaff so gaily. Martin declined Kate's sympathetic invitation to come back to lunch with them, on the plea of necessary business to get through. " I wish your brother could have come back with us," she said to Stephen, who accompanied ; her along the lane, some distance behind Nan and Bobby. " I feel quite anxious about him. I don't believe he's had anything to eat!" " Poor old Martin. Yes, it's been pretty rough on him, being the queer, sensitive chap he is. And I suppose he was really fond of the old girl—they were a pair of queer 'uns. She always hated me and mother. But it should be all right for Martin. Don t 1 wish I was in his shoes. She's supposed to be awfully well off—regular old miser, don't you know. Martin's a lucky dog if he only knew it."" Stephen • lapsed into silence, and they walked on till they paused to part, when he added : " Anything I can do for you in Taunton this afternoon, Miss Kennedy? I'm going jn to meet mother. SheVc'oming back for the funeral, that's to be to-morrow, as I expect you know. I didn't want her to, but she says it's only decent. I say, why not come with me? Do. The run will do you no end of good after all this upset?" Kate hesitated, and glanced toward the young people.' She did feel she wanted to get away, if only for an hour or two. Stephen saw and interpreted her glance, " Don't worry about them. They don't want anybody but each other to entertain 'em! Do come. Miss Kennedy. I hate driving alone. 'Specially when I'm hipped, as I can't help being, with all this." She accepted then, and arranged to be ready at three o'clock, to Stephen's secret relief. He was glad of the impulse that prompted him to ask her, for her presence would postpone,. for a brief time, anyhow, the bad half-hour he anticipated with his mother. It was not his fault that the negotiations with Martin, undertaken reluctantly by him at her express command had been so tragically frustrated. But, knowing her as ho did, ho felt sure she would rago at hiirf for a time, as if he were personally responsible for the old lady's death at that critical moment. And indeed, if he. had done as she wished him to, gone home on Wednesday, and tackled Martin at once, instead of waiting to come by sea in the new launch, everything might havo gone differently. Now here was the very day on which that interest must be paid. If they could only have staved it. off for another fortnight, or even a week, all would havo been well! As it was they must faco tho situation, and she would ho furious, uncontrollable. His gloomy anticipations were not realised. His mother looked tin won ted ly pale and tired, possibly that was the effect of her new mourning, which suited her to a marvel, toning down her exuberant figure and colouring. She embraced him affectionately, and, as they walked to the car, where' Kate waited, she said in a significant undertone : " It's all right. I raised tho wind, just in timo." " You did!" he exclaimed. " How?" " Got an advance. Tell you later," she answered. (To hc> continued daily.)