THE SPOTTED OUNCE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVIII, Issue 20968, 3 September 1931, Page 17

THE SPOTTED OUNCE.

By JOHN H. VAHEY,

(COPYIUGIIT.)

A FASCINATING STORY OF ROMANCE, MYSTERY AND EXCITEMENT.

CHAPTER XXV (Continued.) Hast locked up the oflice again, and went home on foot, still debating his next move. But he had not gone a quarter, of a mile when a newsboy caine along, crying tho latest sensation, and Hast darted over to buy a copy of tho evening paper. Stepping under a lamp to read it, his eye fell on a scare head-line: CARE HANGEIf CASE CAUSES NEW SENSATION. it Suicido After All ? Hast's eye raced down tho columns', and took it in at a glance. John llodd was dead, and John Hodd had confessed to the murder of the man at the Spotted Ounce. " I've got him! " Hast said to himself, as he folded up the paper, and stuffed it in his pocket. " Both of them, with luck! " He had no intention of going home now. Instead, he telephoned to the garage where he kept liis car, asking them to send a man round with it to the corner of Swan and Edgar's. Then he got a trunk call through to the Careys and asked Mounsey, who replied, if he might come down at once to Care Hanger House. "Of course, my dear fellow,", said Mounsey. " You're tho very man I wanted to see. In the first place that mystery is cleared up. But I suppose you have seen the papers? " Hast replied drily. " Yes, just now." " I am sorry you had all your trouble for nothing, but you did your best," said Mounsey. " Como anyway —I have heard rather a strange story from my wife, and I think I should like to discuss it with you." Hast started. " Very well, Mr. Carey. lam coming down by car. 1 may have something to tell you, too." He rang off and went to wait for tho car at Swan and Edgar's corner. It turned up ten minutes later, and he dismissed tho mechauic who had driven it, and went at once to Scotland Yard. Inspector Fane had gone home, but Hast saw a colleague of his and told him as much of the case as he thought wise at that stage. " I want you to make sure that Renter does not get away," he ended. " For my own part, I think he won't suspect we are on his track, but will turn up at Dover in his proper person. You see, you have nothing against him, and I am merely an outsider with suspicions. He won't know that he is being watched." "Especially if he thinks you are lying ill, Mr. Hast," 6aid the detective. " I hope you are better?" " Much improved by my trip abroad," Hast laughed. " But now I must bolt. I have a fast journey in front of me." As Hast climbed again into his car, and made the best pace he could out of London, he was thinking very seriously of Mounsey Carey's words. Carey had heard a strange story from his wife. Had it anything to do with the mysterious Dr. Walther ? When the finding of those visiting carrjs in the secretaire at the villa in Bruges had disclosed the fact that Renter and £>r. Walther were one and the same man, Hast had felt a distinct twinge of anxiety. To Norma Carey, the coming of George Rollesou would mean only one thing. If Ralph was Rolleson, then her brother was alive, and entitled to the greater part of the fortune she and Mounsey now enjoyed. If she had visited Dr. Walther, who was at the back of the plot to remove " Ralph," what was the inference if it was not an unpleasant one ? But Carey's remark over the telephono put a new and better face on things, and reassured Hast, who had never been able to square his personal impression of his charming hostess at Care Hanger with tho doubts which her mysterious visit to Walther had aroused. On the other hand, she could have no sinister motive behind that visit if she had confessed the fact (o her husband.,. Even granting it possible that there was a sinister motive, was it in the least degree likely that Mounsey would bo anxious to share this secret with the detective ?

Once Hast was clear of London, ho quickened speed. Tho hour was late, the traffic negligible at that time of-year, and he kept the needle of his speedometer trembling round forty-five for the greater part of the way. Making a detour, he reached Care Hanger House, by way of Much Charley, and received a warm welcome from Mr. and Mrs. Carey. It was now nearly midnight, but they had a hot supper ready for him, and sat down in the dining room while he did justice to the meal. " I must apologise for appearing in such a etate," he said, as he ate. " But I had no time to preen myself. I only lelt Bruges to-day, and have been very busy running about ever since." "So you have been to Bruges? " said Carey. . " My last trip, I hope, for some time, said Hast, who did not wish to mention the affair while the butler was still in the room. "We have never been there,' said Norma, who understood. " I believe it is very quaint." Hast nodded and began to tell them something of the ancient city. They listened with feigned interest until he had finished supper. " We'll go into tho drawing room and hear more about it, Mr. Hast, said Norma, rising. Mounsey got up too, and spoke to the butler. " Coffee in the small drawing room. And a pot of tea—lndian —for Mr. Hast, he added, with a twinkle. Hast smiled as ho rose. " Lo, the poor Ulsterman,- whose untutored mind —' " he misquoted. " What is the rest of that poem, Mr. Hast?" asked Norma amusedly. " Drinks tay, and leaves- the coffeepot behind!" said Hast, taking a cigarette from the case Mounsey offered him.

CHAPTER XXVI. When they were settled in the small drawing room, round a glowing fire. Hast turned toward Mounsey, and remarked that he would like to hear what Mrs. Carey had to say before he embarked on his own story. Norma Carey was a little flushed now. But a glance at her husband, who smiled back encouragingly, put her again at her ease, and she nodded agreement.' " I'll have to go back a little to make it clear to you, Mr. Hast," she said softly but distinctly. " To the time when I was a girl of fourteen or fifteen. I was at a romantic age then, and I made ratliQr a hero of my absent brother. It seemed to me that it was i - ather wonderful for him to be travelling over the world, in all sorts of wild places; and his old nurse, who was also mine, was never tired of talking of him, and hinting that he had not had fair play from my father." " He was an obsession of hers V* said Hast. " He was, rather, and for a while he almost became an obsession with me. Then later on, we heard the story of his death, and that made a further impression on my mind. I used to wonder who had killed him, and why; and my old nurse—who never believed anything she did not want to believe—insisted that it was all a mistake. She believed that he was still alive somewhere. Now I don't know much about the sub-con-scious mind, but I suppose mine must have been saturated with old Nannie's theories, and as long as I was at home and alone I used to believe what she said, and wonder what George was doing, .and why he never let us know where he was. When I grew a little older, and Nannie was pensioned off, I had my doubts again, but probably that silly impression still remained in ambush at the back of my mind." " These things do," agreed Hast. Mounsey grunted. All talk about psychology, or the sub-conscious mind,

appeared to him rather precious nonsense. 110 was not only unimaginative, but very scornful of those who were imaginative. Jsorma continued. " Tlien I married —'* she glanced quickly across at Mounsey as she spoke, and Hast thought ho had never seen her look so lovely as at the moment, " and had other things to think of. I forgot poor George until I was takeri to that African hunting-film." " And then it all came back to you ?" said Hast, finishing his second cup of tea, and lighting a fresh cigarette. " Yes, it came back to me then, and I had one or two rather distressing nightmares, in which my brother figured. All that made such a deep impression on my mind that, though I am not superstituous, really, I began to wonder if those dreams had not been sent to w&rn me that my brother was still alive." " Why didn't you tell me ?" asked Mounsey. She smiled. " 1 told you why. I hate being laughed at, and you know you think people absurd if they believe in visions or omens! I ougiit to have told you. I ought not to have cared if you laughed, but I did care." " Most people are more afraid of ridiculo than of anything else," said Hast. " Please go on, Mrs. Carey." "Then; oh, then I had a packet addressed to me one day. It- contained a pamphlet written by a man called Dr. Walther, and it was published by, I think, the ' Society of the Arcanum.' I glanced at it, meaning to throw it away, when I found that it was all about the occult, and how missing people had been traced and found by members of the society who were—is it ' initiates ' ?" " They would call themselves so," said Hast, smiling. " May 1 ask if the missing relation stunt was put prominently on the first page V " How clever of you to she said. "It was indeed. It began: ' Have you ever lost someone you loved dearly ?' and then it went on about omens, and how those who had learned to leave their bodies and venture in the astral plane could often travel over the earth in a few moments of time, and perhaps see those they believed dead." " That seems to have been an ad hoc publication, and I shall be surprised if more than one copy was printed," Hast commented. " And after that, Mrs. Carey ?"

She looked at her husband to see if he was laughing. But his face was quite grave and she went on: " Then foolishly I wrote to this Ur. Walther and asked him if it was really true. He wrote back from an address in Ealing, and later from an office in New Bond Street. He seemed rather doubtful of success at first, and that seemed to me to prove that he was genuine." " He knew it would, Mrs. Carey." " I suppose so. At all events, I thought it would do no harm to see him. If I had been wise I would have told my husband then, but I didn't. Dr. Walther wrote at last that he was coming down to Care Hanger and would stay at the Spotted Ounce. If I could manage to visit him there, and would endeavour to refresh my. memories of my brother, he might be able to help me. Of course I had few personal recollections of George, but old Nannie had talked about him and his childish exploits until I knew as much about them as she did. I wrote down as much as I could remember, and took it with mo when I went to the Spotted Ounce." Hast looked at her with keen intorcst. " I suppose, you supplied Walther with all the information ho needed about your brother." She nodded. " Yes. But why did he need it ? I can't understand that at alii It had nothing to do with my brother's death later. Dr. Walther was there a long time before, and now John Hodd has committed suicide and left a confession." Hast smiled, " What then ?" " Well the man had a crystal and looked into it, and presently he said he saw Georgo landing in England, and ho had only one eye. Ho tried to look again, and find out how George came to loso the eye, but he could not tell. The crystal was all cloudy, ho said. But lie was sure George was alive and somewhere in England. Then he stopped—Ho told me it was frightfully exhausting, and he could not go on." (To be continued daily.)