THE GOLD KIMONO.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVIII, Issue 20793, 9 February 1931, Page 5

THE GOLD KIMONO.

By PETER CHEYNEY.

(COPYRIGHT.)

Author of "The Vengeance of Hop Fi," "Adventures of Alonzo," etc. A THRILLING STORY OF LOVE, CRIME, MYSTERY AND ROMANCE.

CHAPTER XlV.—(Continued). " Good morning." he said brightly. ■' liow do you do?" For reply the \oung man aimed a sudden blow at O'Farrel, who ducked, and in a minute the pair were struggling fiercely. O'Farrel, who was in good condition, felt, that he was more than a match for his adversary, but it was obvious to him that the other knew little of the science of boxing. As the young man aimed a wild blow at O'Farrel, the latter sprang aside, and closing suddenly, he upper-cut his adversary fiercely. The young man crumpled up, '.nd dropped to the ground almost senseless. O'Farrel, leaning up against the cliff-si lo to recover his breath, gazed with .some amazement at the recumbent figure before him. " Well, my friend," lie oaid eventually, as the man struggled to nis knees, " 1 think you are much too precious to be allowed to escape. I think 1 am going to tie you up, and deposit you at Sepacli Farm for a bit. That seems to bo the headquarters for everybody in this neighbourhood." O'Farrel took off the leather belt which he wore round his mackintosh, and with which ho intended to bind tho young Russian's hands, and advanced for the purpose of carrying his scheme into execution. As he did so, tho cafe door opened, and the woman appeared, but she was not the sobbing, piteous woman of tho night before. She held her head proudly, and in her right hand was a small automatic pistol. " I don't think so," she said quietly. " You will let him go, and if you try to stop him I shall shoot you." O'Farrel grinned and shrugged his shoulders, liy this time the young man had regained his feet, and stood rubbing his paw. Then, at a signal from the woman, and with a malevolent glance at O'Farrel, the young Russian ran swiftly up the steps leading so the cliff-road, and disappeared fiom view. With the departure of tho mysterious young mail the altitude of the woman changed. The hand holding the pistol dropped to her sidt;. and O'Farrel thought, as he sLoott looking at her, that there was a look of entreaty in her eyes. After a moment ho spoke. " Well, my lady of the gold kimono," he said. " I think I know your secret." He lit a cigarette casually, watching her out of the corner of his eyes. " That young man is the man who did tho killing at Sepacli Farm," said O'Farrel. " Why are you trying to shield him ? I'm afraid it won't be much use. We don't allow double murderers at large in England you know. ."

She started. '' He did not kill both. ." she murmured . ." " Not both . . only Steitlin." She stopped suddenly, and then, as suddenly seemed to come to a conclusion. Slio turned to O'Farrel. " You are a friend of Captain Peabody —my husband," she said brokenly. " I will tell you the truth. . ." She turned-and led the way into the cafe, and O'Farrel followed. . CHAPTER XV. When the 8.45 train arrived at Salthaven Junction, arid Peabody and Kenkins stepped out on to the platform, the slight mist, which seemed to hang over the moorland perpetually, and the continuous drizzle of rain, made Peabody more depressed than ever. During the journey down the association of his wife with the murders at Sepach Farm bid taken ominous shape in his mind, and not even the rather forced cheerfulness of Kenkins (so obviously forced that it depressed Peabody more than ever) cheered him up at all. They walked down the road towards the Farm in silence. Peabodv's mind was already on the scene within the Farm as he had last seen it. The philosophical Kenkins, whose medical mind was entirely unperturbed at the thought of seeing dead bodies, was endeavouring to figure out why the calm and rather conventional-minded Peabody was so interested in this affair.

Arrived at the Farm Peabody pushed open tho rickety gate, and, ascending the stairs, led the way towards the room on the left of the passage. On the threshold he paused with an exclamation, and, turning quickly, walked into the opposite room. Kenkins, looking round the doorway, saw the reason for Peabody's surprise—the bodies w r ere gone! Kenkins produced a pipe from his pocket, filled and lit it.

This rather upsets your ideas, doesn't it, Peabody," ho said. "Scotland Yard tell us that the local police know nothing of any murders at Sepach Farm; vet, between the time you left hero last night, and now, someone has removed two particularly heavy corpses. If what you have said is correct there are only throe people beside ourselves who knew of the existence of these bodies. They are the woman in the gold kimono, the man in plus fours, and—" " And who else?" asked Peabody.

Kenkins grinned. " Etienue 0 Farrel, he said, with a cynical smile. " I have been thinking about O'Farrel, hnd I hnv. realised why lie refused his assistance. The fact of the matter is he didn't want to be associated with me in this business; he doesn't like me; 1 m much too logical for that scintillating young Irishman—loo heavy. It would be like O'Farrel lo come down here immediately aflor you left last night and interview this mysterious lady who has a predilection for wearing gold kimonos, and, if he thought sufficiently of her, assist her in removing the bodies."

Pea bod v said nothing. He had a decided idea that the logical Kenkins might be right. . " Now, look here," Kenkins continued, " let's take it that O'Farrel did come down here, and that, at least, ho knows something about the removal of these bodies. Knowing that that young man is very fond of comfort, I will wager that at the* present moment he is doing himself very well as regards breakfast at the nearest hotel or inn. Do you know of one?" " That would he the Crown Inn at Slranover," said I'eabody, there s nowhere else."

" All right," said Kcnkins, " lot's go over thero. it' wo find 0 l*ariel theio wo can, at least, discover what he's been doing since vou loft liim last night. Peabody nodded' He was thoroughly discomfited at the turn which events had taken. The tangled skein was becoming more tangled, and he could sco 110 way They loft the Farm, and started on their long walk across the damp moorland. Thev had walked two miles, and were passing a thick coppice, when, suddenly, Penbody stopped and put his hand on KenkinV arm. From the coppice there emerged an individual in plus fours. He was looking as cheerful as ever, although vory wet, and the little chubby pipe was hanging out of the corner of Ins mouth ns it bad been when Peabody first saw him Peabodv commenced to speak, lint the man in plus fours stopped him with a gesture. ' . _ 1 11 " Now, look here," he said. I told vou last night in the train. Captain Peabodv, that wise men mind their own business. I told you that Sepach Farm at tho moment was a particularly unhealthy place, and I told you that, if you went to the police and told them your story thev would fell you that vou were suffering ' from hallucinations. Well, you went to the police, and thev_ told you that, but, in spito of my warning, I find vou hanging about horn again. I iuuo had orfough of vou, and I'm going to lako slops to insure that your interference is at an 0.iu1."

(To be continued daily.)

Four particularly stalwart individuals appeared out of tho coppice. Peabody attempted to struggle as two of tliem approached him, but lie was soon overpowered. Kenkins, always logical, noticed Iho stalwart and somewhat disciplined bearing of the men. He thought thai they might have been soldiers, or sailors possibly. Within five minutes Peabody and. Kenkins, with their hands trussed behind them, were being led toward a deserted shed which stood at the bottom of Deep ?nd field, two miles from the Farm. Arrived at the shed, they were unceremoniously pushed inside, and the door locked behind them. Peabody sat down on a pile of wood with a muttered curse. The whole thing had got beyond him, but Kenkins, always observant, noticed that the lock on the shed door was entirely new, almost as if someone had known that the shed was to receive prisoners. CHAPTER XVI. When lie had locked the door of the shed at Deep End the man in plus fours stood, with his hands in his pockets, thinking deeply. One would have imagined that he was as perplexed as Peabody. After a minute he spoke a few words to the four men, who, touching their caps, walked off across the moor toward Stranovcr. The man in plus fours, who looked very tired, shook some of the rain from his coat, and struck off diagonally toward the large patch of gorse which stood oh the south side of Deep End field. As he approached, two men came out to meet him.

"I have just locked the enterprising Peabody and another fellow in the shed," said the man in plus fours. " What they are doing down here I don't know. Peabody went along to Scotland Yard and interviewed Sir John' Scarrell. Scarrell rang through to the Chief Constable at Stranover. I was there, and I told him what had happened at the Farm. I told him, too, that this matter must, at all costs, be kept out of the hands of the local police; that, somehow, he must persuade this Peabody that the whole thing was a myth or a matter of nerves, or something; rather a difficult thing to do, I grant you. The whole thing is beyond me," the man in plus fours continued. " I think—" "It seems simple enough to me, Grant," said one of the other men. "You know that Steitlin was coming to Sepach Farm. It is fairly obvious that he was going to meet somebody. That somebody apparently saw him and Philipson. If this fellow Peabody walked into the farm casually, it is fairly obvious that he would go to the police about it, and if, after Scarrell had told him that he was suffering from hallucinations, he still believed in his own story, what is more logical than that he should return and bring somebody with him to verify it ? " Grant grinned. ."There will be precious little verification," he said. "1 had the bodies taken to the Stranover police mortuary this morning, but I wish to heaven I had seen and spoken to Philipson before they got him. Philipson was the only man who really knew anything about this Steitlin business. My instructions were to follow Steitlin from the time he left Helsingfors until he arrived in England. I was on the same boat. Directly Steitlin landed J telephoned Philipson, who told me to meet him at Sepach Farm at six o'clock. He told me also that Steitlin would make direct for the farm. I stuck to Steitlin as far as Stranover, but I lost liiin there, and made up my mind that I would get on to the farm ahead of him. On the road I passed this fellow Peabody. and, thinking that he might be one of Philipson's men, I asked him the code question: "Do you know a man named Truesrnith ? " His replies convinced me that lie knew nothing of the matter. I left him. and cut across the moorland toward the farm, but a mist came up, and I lost my way. I walked back to the cliff road, and", as I arrived, there were two shots at Sepacli Farm. This fellow Peabody was just coming up the steps from the Turkish Cafe. He thought I had not seen him, and stood up from the rain under a tree. I went down the Cafe steps, and found at the bottom a black georgette gown lying in the rain. Then I made up my mind I would go up to tho Farm, and report to Philipson, but this Peabody was ahead of me. He went into the Farm, and came out just at the moment that the woman came up the road from the lurkish Cafe. When she saw him she turned tail and went back. Peabody, after a bit, cut across country for Salthaven Junction. I was not certain at the time as to whether he'had anything to do with the woman or not, so 1 went to the station on my motor-cycle, went up to town by the same train, and en route advised him to keep his mouth shut." "One thing stands to reason," he continued, "something's going to happen at this Farm. What it is only Philipson knew, and he's dead, but I'm going to hang oil here until it does happen, and Air. Peabody, who, if our London people know what they're talking about, is quite an innocuous individual, is going to stay in the tool-shed with his friend until I do know."

"I've got to find out why Philipson was at the Farm waiting for Steitlin; I've got to find out what Steitlin wanted at the Farm."

"You know all you want to know about Steitlin," said the man who had not yet spoken. "I don't said Grant. "I know that Steitlin is a member of the Thirteenth International, the most select murder-club employed by the scum of Soviet Russia. I know that he was responsible for the blow-ing-up of the Lithuanian Embassy last year, and I know that there are about fifteen murders lacked on to his name, but i don't know what he wants at a deserted, empty farm, stuck here on the English sea-coast, and I wish I did. Ho was a dangerous man, was Steitlin." He knocked out his pipe 011 the palm of his hand. "Bracknell," said he, "go back to Stranover, and keep that fat station-inspector amused and happy. Hang on theiG till you hear from me. You, I\\swood, go over lo Salthaven Junction and keep your eye on any new arrivals. I rather fancy we shall have some company at Sepach Farm befoie the day is out. So long!" _ The two men went off. Grant, his hands in his pockets, moodily walked back toward the farm. He was very perturbed, although ho was not of a nature —as no man is after fifteen years in the Secret Service —to bo upset by unimportant happenings, hut the situation at the I*arm worried him; he was in the dark.

He approached (lie Farm from the moorland side, pushed his way through the gap in the fence, and walked across the courtyard toward the door. As ho reached the door it opened, and. with a beneficent smile on his face, Etienne O'Farrel stepped out. O'Farrel looked quite pleased with himself. He was getting quito a kick out of life.

"Well," said Grant, his hands in his pockets, his feet wide apart, "what the devil do you want hero, and who are you, anyway ?" O'Farrel examined the finger-nails of Ins right hand with care. " You funny little man," ho said, " I'm getting rather tired of you. I heaid (hat you've been hanging about this farm sinco last night. I don't like people who hang about." " You don't," said Grant. Well, what aro you going to do about it?"