THE SPOTTED OUNCE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVIII, Issue 20959, 24 August 1931, Page 15

THE SPOTTED OUNCE.

By JOHN H. VAHEY.

(COPYRIGHT.)

fascinating story of romance, mystery and excitement.

CHAPTER XlV.—'\ Continued.) 'V Tho sky aow cie:ir ' Llje mooali S ht W reflected in the waters of the slow by «>e roiLti ' anJ g'Jimruered in the - Sidles left by the storm in the rough f fl e itself- As Hast stood looking at. the J" jj e heard faintly on the bree2e an id-fashioned tune beat ollt on the bells I#. tba Beffroi in the Grand Place. " The front of this narrow, two-storeyed . „ v.mi «ix windows. There were three iiouse ~ , iiv : ndow3 on each floor, guarded by per--r ' painted dark /green, arid now Selv'simt- So no light could be seen y m the front, and alter a quick fitudy f the Hast movejd away down the fne and on to some rough ground, uiti?elv to be built upon, at the back. Rat the rear of the house was as dark the front, and also seemed to be sluitfed Perhaps Renter'had gone away. SI would know better in the morning, Tvmcrh he would have to be careiul how Kent for fear anyone should think Zk he 'was watching the house. Then an idea came to him. He had on liis previous visit seen men fishing patient'*' with jointed bamboo rods for \ small coarse fish that stocked the Tttle lakes to either side oi the causeway. L' be went back to the lane he heard a small Bsh splash in the muddy canal. Tomorrow he would provide himself with a rod and line, and fish from the farther bank of the canal. From there ha could watch Renter's house without foinz too close. % Ha strolled- back to his hotel by the alternative route, keeping along the dreary and dirty street curiously known ss the Nouvelle Promenade that ran by the side of the railway until he came to the Place de la Gare, and so back to his cwti street and the shelter of his hotel. -/, He smiled as be went into the smoke- ' room for a cup of coffee and a last smoke. "If I lived abroad I might have to tjke to coffee in the end," lie mused, as lie filled the little reservoir with spirit, then put the apparatus awav again, and began to"'undress- '' But I don't see how r could think on it." He got into bed presently, and fell sound asleep, only waking when it was half-past eight. Dressing, - and going down for that poor feast oi coffee and rolls/that is called a Continental breakfast, he finished up with a cigarette before'dressing to go out. After a short look about him, he tound i shop where he obtained a rod of a verv simple pattern with line and tackle complete. Then he treated himself to a mull float, and a supplv of maggots and hemp-seed. Back to the hotel again, he made tea. filled a thermos flask, had some food cut for him. and packed in a bag. He was now ready for the fray, and started out for the Canal de derivation. He did not wish to pass the house where Renter lived, so kept- along the footpath that runs over the railway bridge until he reached the further side. The storm of the previous day had Cleared the air. The sun had come out, and it was warm for 'the time of the Year. Ha moved down the canal bank until he was opposite Renter's villa, rigcred up rod and tackle, threw out into the brown sluggish water, and then fixed his rod by the" spike in the butt, so that it would not topple over. "When be had done that, he climbed up the bank a little, and lit a cigar. fitting there in the rank grass he could gee the facade of the villa. The persiennes of the upper storey were still closed, those in the lower floor were open. Hast sat and wondered what manner of man Mr. Renter was. and hoped he would have a sight of him that''day. It was clear enough that the house was occupied, and probable thai Mr. Renter was at home. From time to time he had a bite, and rebaifed, climbinsr down the bank, and then returning to his post. At eleven strolled along the bank for a little, retamed to his place, smoking again, and waited, patiently. > Is .was half-past eleven before anyone ihowed himself at the viha opposite. Then the door opened. Hast bent his head down, and 'looked furtively from under the brim of his hat. The doorway was filled by the large back of a man. He came out backwards, as if drawing something. Still moving . Terv carefully he backed paces, then wheeled round. It- was obvious to Hast that he was drawing»*a bath-chair, and sow that he set it beam-on to the doorway, Hast saw him let go the handles, and strike a match. . was a man in the cnair, rathet huddled no, bearded, muffled against the air. He had a short pipe in his mouth, and. as Hast watched, the chair-man bent over and lit his pipe tor him, using two matches in the attempt and evoking an irritable shake of the head from the man in the chair. ' Could this be Mr./ Renter ? It so. it might account for the fact that he had not travelled over to England when he heard of the death of his daughter s hus- . band Was he a convalescent, or a permanent invalid? These questions flitted through Haat's mind as he watched the bath-chair set off at last in the direction of the Toison d'Or Boulevard. " I say, is that you fishing, old chap . And'' what luck ? There, on the other side, having apparently come up on the bank of the canal irom the direction of the Quaix aux Bois, was the boring Mr. Wall. _ F/jrtunatelv the bath-chair man did not tarn round," but, disappeared across the Pare Edward Milne. ' Hast shouted back something indistinct, and began to gather np his tackle, while Wall watched him with a broad smile.

Packing up ? " he yelled again. " Then come along and have a coffee with me in the town, old chap." Hast packed up. and presently joined him. He was swearing-Inwardly at the man's inopportune appearance on the scene, but certainly he could do no more spying with the over-hearty Englishman hovering about. " Not a fin. of i course," the _ latter laughed as Hast came up. " This isn t the' test, old man. You might fish here for a yea- 1 , and not get a minnow. I've watched "he follows flit en." Hast smiled. *' I thought I would have * try, but I see you are right. What do ton-want, to do? " " I say, let's go back to the Grand • Place, and have a coffee at that teashop opposite the belfry. But we 11 try another way home, along the Toison d'Or, then down past the/English church in the r ae des Baudets. I like the bit of the boulevard up to the Porfe d'Ostend. What do you say ? " Hast agreed indifferently, and they set "ft/ They were near the old gate when they came suddenly on the bath-chair, in the bearded man sat smoking, and staring gloomily before him, while his attendant sat on a wooden seat near at hand.

Neither looked at the two men who *cre passing, but \yhen they had gone y TV all gestured backwards with a thumb.

"See that old ruffian in the chair? He ®" e n conies here on a fine day. He's yr&ft finish y tOO.'' i ' i Is he ? " said Hast slowly. '' Absolutely. I'll tell you about him. * heard that lie wa& English, and thought I wot'ild have a chat with him —cheer up, f?on*t yon know." Hast understood that Mr. Wall was given that kind of tiling- " I suppose he **3 glad to hear an English voire? 'I thought he would be. Not a bit ?' it. H e told me to mind my own Nice for me, that!" Hast nirmured that it was. But he a " also some sympathy with the invalid •xposed to Wall's exuberant bonhomie. ' What's the matter with him ? " he j SSked as they walked under the frowning gateway. Paralysed." sai/l the other shortly. V_ J asked the English padre here about —he had called, yon see. He savs f fellow is a r . Renter. Evidently if Private means, and has settled down ere./ Th c padre/found him more polite an * did, but Rmmpy. I haven't any v, * that kind of man." 4 'Does ha live here with just that at- .' «ndant ? " asked Hast.

" The padre was told there was another man in the house who cooks and acts as houseman." Wall broke off and pointed to a building they were about to pass. "That's the padre's church sticking like a limpet to the side of that Roman church, but a bit back." Hast did not revive the topic of the grumpy Englishman. He went with Wall to a cafe in the square, and sat there watching the tourists wandering about, looking at the old Beffroi, or peering into the Halles beneath. " I have to go on to Liege this afternoon," said Wall, as the? sipped their coffee arid smoked tranquilly in the window. "I am sorry 1 shan't see more of von, old chap." Hast smiled. " I may net stay as long as I thonght I would," he replied. " And I expect you will find more business in Liege than here."

He was able,to shake Wall off after lunch, and went at once to the official he had seen the previous evening.

" I don't think this Mr. Renter can be the man I was looking for," he said, after a short chat. " This man seems to be an invalid."

" I mentioned him to the Commissaire, m'iseur this morning," said the other- " The pauvre is unfortunately paralysed down his right side. Sometimes for weeks he is unable to leave the house."

" Then I am certainly mistaken," replied Hast. " But allow me to give you my very warm thanks for your courtesy and help." " It is only that we extend the entente, m'iseur," observed the official, bowing with a gratified air. When Hast returned to his hotel. Wall had left. He himself gave notice that he would leave next morning, pleading urgent and unexpected business. He spent the evening at a cinema, most grotesquely fitted up in one of the medieval buildings of the town, and went home soberlv to bed at ten.

He .caught the early boat from Ostend next day, and was again in London iu the late afternoon.

" Now where are we?" he asked himself as he let his bag down with a thump in his own rooms. " Have we wasted two days, or not?"

He had picked up a handful of letters when he opened the door, and now sat down to go through them. The third envelope bore an address in Thomas handwriting, and he slit- that open, and scanned the contents quickly.

Dear Mr. Hast. I am sending this to your place. [ got a bit of news this evening, and thought you would care to know. I and this girl v.-ere gossiping about Mrs. Ralph, .and she told me Mrs. Ralph had a photograph with her last letter, and i.t is now framed, in the drawing room. It is a photo of a bearded man, and she happened to knock it over the first day while dusting. Mrs. Ralph, she says, was very angry with her. It seems that the man is Mr 3. Ra.lph's father, Mr. Renter. Perhaps you have seen the man in Bruges, and" can confirm this description oi him. You could see the photo itself if you paid a call on some excuse. Yours faithfully, M. Thomas.

Hast burned the letter, and began to i reflect. He certainly ought to see this ■ photograph, and then .he must get to . work on a side of the case he had post- j poned owing to his anxiety to trace Mrs. J Ralph's correspondent in Bruges. In fact, j he realised, he might, when calling on the { young woman, decide a point that was j worrying him It "would have been rather late for an ■ ordinary call, but He decided to sdQ Airs. : Ralph that evening. So he dined eaily, j and then set out. j Mrs. Ralph was surprised to see him J again, but proved as agreeable as before, j They discussed the progress of the case I for a short time, then Blast's eyes fell on the photograph, and he pointed to it. " I beg your pardon, Mrs. Ralph, he j said, " but I did not know that your j husband was bearded. She smiled rather sadly. " That is my •; father, Mr. Hast. He lives in Bruges. j He has lived there for some time now." ; " I was in Bruges once," said Hast. | " A quaint old place. I suppose your 1 father is fond of travelling?" _ j " He was once. I saw very little of him j for years." she said. But he had a stroke, poor dear, aboui; eighteen months j ago, and has to go j.bout in a bathchair." . " That is very sad," said Hast, looking again at the photograph, and recognising the face of the man he had seen at Bruges. " He must feel it a great deal." '■ He does—dreadfully," she replied. " He was so active and loved going from one country to another. It's really death in life for him now. and his letters to me are really pathetic."Ha,st dropped the subject. It seemed that he had wasted his time in Belgium. After a moment's pause, he turned to Mrs. Ralph, and asked her if the police had* returned to her the personal belongings of her husband, discovered in his room at the inn after the tragedy. " I was wondering especially if they returned his cheque-book." he added. " I can hardly believe that, he meant to give a bad cheque to the bookmaker. It seemed so unlikely that he would do that, and yet leave an address to which he could be traced." She looked dubious. I don t _ know. I have that old cheque-book here." She <rot up and fetched it from a drawer. " If it could be proved that he really did intend to pay, I should feel happier, of course. But I don't see how anyone could tell now." " I suppose he always put the amount of the cheques he paid out on the stub !' Hast remarked carelessly. She began to turn over the stubs _of the cheques. I think he did. \es. Yon sec thev are all here- —the amounts. Wait a moment though. Here is a blank." Hast glanced at the stub she showed him, and then at the series number on it. " Wliv that is the stub of the cheque .be gave that bookmaker," he observed. "Is that the only one without an amount on it "It is the last one used, and the others are all filled up," she said. " Why ?" " I only thought it was odd, since he had been usually so careful. - ' he replied. "Well, I must go, Mrs. Ralph. It was verv good of you to see me. Naturally, as a friend of the Careys, I was anxious to hear how the claim was going on. "I am sorry for them," said Mrs Ralph, as she held out her hand. " But really it was the money that would have come to my husband if he had lived.' Hast did not reply, but said good-bye and went home. When he reached his rooms, he sat down and wrote a letter to Moimsey Carey, which he posted at a corner pillar-box, before going to bed.

Dear Mr. Carey,—l discovered lately that Mrs Ralph, or RoHeston. had a friend living in Bruges. Thinking he might possibly be an accomplice in a plot. I visited, Bruges, and bad a look at the man. He turns out to be Mrs. Ralph s father, Mr. Henry Renter, and a paralytic X saw tier this evening ,and heard frorn her that ner father had a stroke some eighteen months ago, a fact I also heard in Bruges. that lino'having failed, I am now taking up a side of the case in which I see possibilities. I hope you are willing that I should still continue my investigations as agreed. 1 shall write you if I hear anything of value.

The nexi day he went to the offices of the Public Trustee. Here he told them frankly that he was investigating the claim on behalf of the Careys, and wished to know if they had the cheque which had been given by Ralph to the bookmaker at Bingley. He was assured that the cheque had been lately sent to them, though they were not likely to admit a betting debt in clearing up the dead man's estate. They allowed Hast to see the cheque, but would not allow him to take it away with him. They permitted him, however to make a tracing of it, and with the tracing folded in his pocket, he thanked them, and went back to his office. (To be -continued -daily.)