THE SPOTTED OUNCE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVIII, Issue 20969, 4 September 1931, Page 16

THE SPOTTED OUNCE.

By JOHN H. VAHEY.

' (COPYRIGHT.)

A FASCINATING STORY OF ROMANCE, MYSTERY AND EXCITEMENT,

CHAPTER XXVl.—(Continued). "You paid him a foo?" Hast asked. " Yes—l know he left then—l was not so much impressed by the crystal-gazing when he had goi.e, but the thing was getting on my nerves, and I wished I could clear it up one way or the other. Later on I tried to see him again. I had no" answer to ruy letters. I went up to town. But he had left the Ealing boarding house, and the office in New Bond Street. I could not trace him. Then my brother was found dead, under the name of Ralph, at the Spotted Ounce, and that upset me. I did not like to toll my husband, since I had kept it from him before. Then I bocame alarmed for fear John Hodd should mention my visit. Of course I never connected Dr. Walther with the murderWhy should I ? As we know now, Hodd did it in revenge." "So Hodd did it ?" repeated Hast. " May I just hear where Hodd was found, and how ?" " I'd like you to tell us if you think this story of my wife's has any bearing on the case, Hast," observed Mounsey. " I hope to tell you later on," Hast replied oarefully. Mounsey nodded. " Well then, I had a look at the place. It was found (Hodd's body, I mean) in a stony lano off tho main road between Care Hanger and " " Bingley ?' said Hast. " Yes, Bingley. Harper, my keeper, found him. He had a regular shortened poacher's shot-gun, with a string tied to the trigger and a loop to put his foot in. Blew away most of his face, poor devil." Hast nodded. " And left a confession ?" " Yes." " Can you suggest any reason for Hodd leaving his house and going up that lane to shoot himself ?" " No. But suicides do strange things." " They do! This confession seems very matter-of-fact and sane. He does not write like a man whose brain is going." Mounsey stared. " But there is no doubt that it was suicide. It was his own gun that was used." " And it was Ralph's own automatic that waß found last time, and people thought there was no doubt that it was suicide in that case too." Norma and Mounsey Carey were both alert and staring now. "Do you mean," cried the former, " that it was possibly murder too!" " I know it was," said Hast. Norma gave a little cry. " I hope you'll catch the murderfir, Mr. Hast." " I hope to get both," he said, smiling. " Bub I must ask you to let mo keep my plans dark just a little longer. By tomorrow night, if you can wait so long, I hope to have something to tell you." Both were excited now. They plied him with questions, and made eager comments. But Hast was firm.

" J have had a tiring day," he said at last, " and if you will both excuse mo, I'd like a 'hot bath, and then to bed— Might I have a car to take mo over to Bingley to-morrow, Mr. Carey ?" " Have two, if it will help you!" said Mounsey. " Will half-past nine do ?" " Nine; if you don't mind," said Hast. A big Rolls was waiting for Hast next morning, and he got in and instructed the driver to hurry. " I want to go to the Cottage Hospital first," he said. " Then I shall give you your further instructions." As they raced along the roads Hast was pondering Mrs. Carey's story. It was obvious now, that Renter had been preparing her mind obliquely for the appearance of Ralph on tho 6ceno. He had also succeeded in extracting from her a great deal of information about Rollcson's life as a boy at home, which would be useful when it became necessary to substantiate the claim that Ralph was Rolleson. The story explained away what had at first seemed her dubious connection with the tragedy, and also her anxiety that her husband should not antagonise Hodd, who knew of her foolish visit to the pseudodoctor. He reached Bingley in an hour and a quarter and at once visited the hospital, where he found Thomas rather weak, but quite able to talk. What he heard then from his assistant fully confirmed his suspicions. Thomas had been run down in the dark by a motor-cycle. He had set out to watch Eugene Smith's house and was within twenty yards of the gate when the cycle came charging down on him. He came to, to find himself in the cottage hospital. Hast left 'again, and asked the chauffeur to drive him to the police-station, where he had a long talk with the superintendent. As a result of this consultation, when he drove off to see Smith —two plainclothes men followed at a discreet distance on their cycles. The superintendent remained behind, very busy at the telephone. He was making inquiries at every garage for forty miles round for news of a motor-cycle which had been hired within the last two days, or left in for repairs. When Hast was admitted to Smith's office, and agaiq faced the foxy little man, he was satisfied to know that two policemen were guarding the back and front of the villa. If Smith tried to bolt, let him! It would be a confession of guilt. If he stayed to face the music, he was in a trap. " Well sir, what can I do for you ?" Eugene Smith asked politely, when Hast had taken a chair. " I seem to remember you, or your name, somehow —Perhaps it's only the name though." " Possibly both," said Hast quietly. " I made inquiries before, when the Spotted Ounce suicide case was over." Smith did not seem put out. He shook his head. " Things have happened since then, sir. Haven't you heard, it wasn't suicide at all, 'but murder, and done by the fellow who kept the inn ? Why, he ■ committed suicide the night before last."

(To be continued dally.)

"You mean John Hodd?" asked Hast slowly. "Did you know him?" Smith shook his head again. " No, I didn't."

" I believe he called to see you some time ago—some days ago." Smith refused to be rattled. " Yes, he did But I don't know him ; I mean he wasn't a friend of mine."

" So you have had no communication with him since, or seen him ?" "Of course not. What do you mean ?" "Do you ride a motor-cycle, Mr. Smith ?"

Smith glared. " Look here, young fellow, I don't want any of your impertinent questions! Who the hell are you anyway?"

Hast laughed. "lam a private inquiry agent, Mr. Smith, and I may tell you frankly that I am quito willing to pass my role of interrogator to the police, if you prefer it." " Well, go and tell them to come," said Smith.

' Hast-grinned. "I think I see a fellow n plain clothes in the road," he said. " Shall I call him in ?"

Smith started, then smoothed his features and forced a laugh. " You can't blame me for resenting questions when I did not know what you were, Mr. Hast. What is it you \\,ant to know ?" " Good! lam anxious to know if you ride a motor-cycle." Smith replied without hesitation, " I used to. I gave it up lately." "How lately?"

Smith reflected. How much did Hast know ? He himself had not had the faintest suspicion that Hast connected him with the case, and naturally he had not taken great pains to hide his tracks. " What, do you want to know ?" he asked, with a pretence at good humour.

CHAPTER XXVII When Smith put that question, Hast decided to uncover his heavy batteries. " I want to know, because I suspect that you were the motor-cyclist who ran down a man called Thomas tho other night," he said. " And why do you expect mo to give myself away, if I did have an accident ?" Hast l looked grim. " Because Thomas is my assistant, and ho was shadowing you, and you knew it." •"You damned liar!" Smith cried, and sprang up. "Sit down!" said Hast very sharply, " Don't think you are going to get away with it, Mr. Hare, alias Smith. These thick-ear methods may do for Jo'burg, but they don't cut any ice at home." Smith sank into his chair, all the wind taken out of liis sails for the moment. " That's another lie," he muttered. Hast shrugged. " 1 have your dossier, man, and signed by your pal, Steam. And the police have grabbed Saithe, alias Wall, and cleared out tho villa at Bruges. Only Renter got away." Smith was ghastly white now, but he managed to recover himself a little. " I don't know anything about Bruges, or a villa, or Renter! I can tell you that." Hast smiled. " Well, there's an easy way of deciding it. I found clear proof in Bruges that you wired to Renter there," Smith snarled. " I never wired to 1 Renter. I don't know him. I'm not the only man in Bingley who may have sent a foreign telegram." " Then you will come along to the postoffice with me, and prove it. It's not so long ago, and they will have a record." "If I did wire, it proves nothing," said Smith, on the defensive now. " If you did, we can produce a copy of the wire, which shows that you were warning Renter that liodd visited you, and ' needed attention.' " " That's a lie," Smith growled. " Como on then. To the post-office, or the police, whichever you prefer!" Smith wriggled sulkily. "What are you getting at?" / Hast fold him. " Your movements last night. Where were you ?—Don't lie now !" ' I was here, at tiome." " Very well. We will leave this office of yours and go into your house. We'll see what your servant eays about that." Smith glared. " Nosey, aren't you! Well you are right. I went for a spin. I was a bit fed up with work, and—"And took the road towards Care Hanger," said Hast, noting that this shaft went home. "To see Hodd perhaps." " Bosh! Hodd shot himself with his own gun." Hast grinned. " What has that got to do with it ? His own gun ? Are there any finger-prints on that gun." Smith looked suddenly relieved. He thought he saw a way out conveniently provided for him by the foolish detective. " I can tell you something, young fellow," he sneered. ' I had a talk with one of our detectives here yesterday evening. He had been over to near about this suicide, and the Care Hanger bobby said they hud tried to get finger-print impressions—it seems this Sergeant Dives, is crazy to become a detective—but there weren't any prints on tho gun." Hast looked at him steadily. " Miraculous! Can you tell he how John Hodd managed to remove the finger-prints he must have made, when he was lying in the lane with most of his face shot away ?" He glared at the shrinking man and added, " let's see that string of yours—there, in the second pigeonhole of your desk! Thfere was a bit round the trigger of Hodd's gun." Smith rose, raging. " Get out! I won't listen to you. What—" Hast jumped up and gripped him by the arm.

" Easy now! I know where I have you, Mr. Hare. I have Steam's confession of the whole ramp, and your part in it, and I think we shall manage to convince the police that you had the keys of the Spotted Ounce handed to you by Renter, alias Dr. Walther. With those keys you got in, and secured Hodd's gun. Afterwards going to where he waited to meet you in that stony lane." Most of this was bluff, but it told. Smith sank into his seat again and gasped. " I declare I had nothing to do with it, sir. Why, no matter what I was, I wouldn't kill a man! You must see how it was! If Hodd was murdered, it was Renter who did it, not me—he's capable of anything!'"