THE LAVENHAM TREASURE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXVIII, Issue 20978, 15 September 1931, Page 13

THE LAVENHAM TREASURE.

By OTTWELL BINNS. (COPYRIGHT.) Author oI Diana of the Islands," "The Trail of Adventure," The Mystery of the Atoll." etc., etc.

A STORY OF TENSE AND DRAMATIC ACTION BY POPULAR WRITER.

SYNOPSIS. Charles Lavenham, an itinerant portraitpainter, whilst tramping along a by-road that crosses a desolate moor, is overtaken by a motor-car, from which a letter is blown. It has been opened, and is addressed to "Mr. Charles Lavenham at The Three Feathers." As it bears his name, he is tempted to road the contents, but decides instead to find his " name-twin." As he approaches The Three Feathers, ho observes a man crouohing behind a stone wall watching the inn through field-glasses. The man creeps away, and Charles enters the inn, noticing as he does bo, that he is being scrutinised through a window. Charles addresses this second watcher as " Mr. Lavenham," to his obvious surprise and agitation, and informs him that ho has found a letter bearing a name common to them both. During their conversation the artist tells him that a man has been watching the inn. Hearing this, the other is terrified and offers Charles £2O to take his car and deliver a letter to an address in Notanam, keeping what is given to him there, until he learns from an " agony " advertisement in " The Times " where to take it. At dusk, Charles drives from the inn and is followed by a motor-cyclist, whom, however, he manages to elude, but runs into a bank of fog. As he slows down, a girl steps into the glare of the hendlights. ■ The girl explains that her horse has broken his neck, and Charles gives her u lift to Notauani. I CHAPTER ll.—(Continued). Tho girl moved off in the darkncs3, leaving Lavenham with the little mystery unsolved; and when tho sound of lior footsteps grow faint, he drove on to the inn. Tho landlord welcomed an old customer without tho least idea that he was a substitute for tho man who had engaged his room, and Lavenham did not enlighten him. " You will have no other guests at this time of the year?" remarked the artist, as they returned from the garage. " Wrong, Mr. Lavenham," answered the inn-keeper. " I've two. Tho queerest birds! Both strangers h,erc, and unknown to one another. Ono of 'em goes out every night with a hurricane lantern an' a butterfly net - after winter rnoths, ho says; though the Lord knows what he wants with 'em. T'other prowls the countryside by day, an' does conjuring tricks in tho bar porlour at night. Somo sort of foreigner, I reckon, an' has been in a circus in his time I'll swear. 'Tis fair wonderful what he can do. Ho's thcro now throwing a seaman's knife at a dart board, an' pinning every number that any of the company calls. Offered to put the knife between the fingers of any hand spread open on tho board; but there's no man will take tho risk. They're a cautious lot, but not to bo blamed. Knife is sharp enough to cut a finger off if he made a wide." Lavenham was interested. A man who could throw a knife like that was a rarity in a country inn. " Some sailor, I expect," ho commented. " I should like to see his performance." The landlord laughed. " It's free, gratis, an' for nothing." They turned into the tap room, and Lavenham looked swiftly round. There were j:>erhaps half a score of men seated on the benches watching the performer with bucolic wonder. They were what they seemed—nothing more. Assured of that, the artist gave his whole attention to the entertainer. Ho was standing at the far side of the room from his target, balancing a. in his hand, plainly about to throw. As Lavenham and tlie landlord entered ho turned, flashed a glance at them, and gave a chuckling laugh. "Ah, my host," ho cried, " you are in the neeck of time. I am about to win you and all these others free refreshments. Eef you will keep quiet as tho mouse in tho hole—" He twitched the knife upward, caught it by the blade, and a second later it passed like a flash of light across tho room, and stuck quivering in tho cork target. " One!" The man flashed his tooth in a smilo, and while one of the rustics returned tho knife, explained to the landlord. " I go tho round of the clock, Meester Smale; and our vena good friend Vowler pays the round of drinks. Eef I miss—" He shrugged his shoulders and laughed—- " But that is not possible, no!' Lavenham considered tho speaker carefully. _ Short and round, dark-haired, olive-skinned, with eyes of a piercing blackness, there was little doubt that the landlord's judgment was right. The man was unquestionably a foreigner, of Latin ancestry. Italian or Spanish for a certainty. But what was ho doing here, entertaining rustics in a village inn, and that on the edge of winter when visitors were as scarce as swallows ? As he- asked himself the question, Lavenham's mind went back to the man at The Three Feathers, to the watcher ho himself had seen, and to tho others of whom the man had spoken. Was this accomplished knife-thrower one of tho crowd ? It seemed possible; and as ho made the admission he whistled softly to himself If it were so it seemed that the arrival here of his namesake had been anticipated—and that there was a possibility of eventful happenings which had not entered into his own calculations. Unless the other Charles Lavenham were well-known to the men who were watching him, ho himself might come in for an undue share of their attention, and — "Four! Meester Vowler, you may the money get out, and our host the cidor may draw." Tho man laughed as he boasted, and flicked tlie knife in the air, caught the blade deftly, and flung it unerringly. "Five!" ho registered. "The next time wo are half way round the clock." He balanced tho knife in his hand, flung it upward, caught it, and his arm went back. He was in the very act of throwing, when the landlord spoko. "Mortal clever, hey, Mr. Lavenham?" The knife sped widely, missed tho target altogether, and stuck in the matchboarding a foot away. A shout went up from the rustics. Tlie man who had made the wager cried out. jubilantly. " Glory! I win. The drinks bo on 'eo, mister!" The knife-thrower showed no chagrin, but swung round and looked swiftly at Lavenham, thon laughed at tho landlord. *' You speak too quickly, my friend. 1 make a meestake, as you behold; and I have to pay for tho liquor. But it was only r, meestake as I show you." He spoko sharply to the man who had returned tho knife for him. " You get mo the knifo each time, as queek as you can . . . behold." He began the round of the clock again, wasting no more time between the scores than was needed to bring the knife back to his hand. In no timo at all ho had accomplished the feat he had set himself; and when men were applauding and hammering the table, he mado a gesture of impatience. "Givo me the dart! ... I show you something." A man handed him one of the feathered darts. 'With apparent carelessness ho flung it, making a bull's eye. Then he balanced tho knife in his hand once more, threw it in the air, caught it, and flung it with a violence that had been absent from his previous efforts. There was a sharp sound and, split neatly in two, the wooden shaft of the dart dropped to the floor, leaving its pin in the cork. The rustics shouted applause, and the man turned to the landlord and the artist. " I owe you for a new dart, Meester Srnale? Yes! That is so! And one can bay a now dart, but not a new heart, hey ? Now if a man had been standing thefe— •

poof. By this time he would have gone queek to heaven. What ? . . . But now we drink. Yes. And I the reckoning will pay for all . . . You, Mr. Lavenham— I catch your name right just now, hey?— you will drink to my cost and pleasure? Yes . . Meester Smale you will us all oblige." The landlord went to tho bar and began to draw mugs of cider. The performer stepped across the room to the dart board to recover his knife; and Lavenham twisted a cigarette, frowning thoughtfully as he did so. What on earth did the fellow mean by his odd words ? Were they a covert threat or warning addressed to himself? It was possible. Ho remembered how the man had swung round to stare at him after his wild throw; and he divined that it was tho sound of his name as tho landlord spoke it which had put the man off his aim. He had remembered the name and— His thought broke off sharply; and in tho very act of lighting the cigarette he paused with the match in his hand, while ho listened to a sound which came from outside—the noise of a motor-cycle with an imperfect silencer. " Our friend of the trilby hat!" he thought. "Late!" Ho waited tensely. Would the man pass tho inn ? A moment later he had his answer. The motor-cycle pulled up just outside the uncurtained window. Ho stared through the latter in the hope of seeing tho man who, ho was assured, had followed him from The Three Feathers. As he did so ho saw a man's face pressed against tho dark pane while he peered into the room. He had not seen that face closely before, and so could not identify it; but it was crowned by a trilby hat. and the fact that its owner had arrive'd on a motorcyclo was fairly conclusive evidenco that he was the shadower. After a couplo of minutes the face was withdrawn, and as Lavenham caught tho quick tread of feet in tho passage he gave his attention to (he door. A man entered the tap room, the man who had taken stock of the company through the window. Watching closely, Lavenham Baw the man's eyes go to the knife-thrower, who returned what the artist took for a warning glance, then the new-comer seated himself, and calling for beer, lit a cigarette. From his corner, Lavenham watched the pair closely but unobtrusively. No further glance passed between them, and they might have been the most utter strangers. The artist, howover, was assured of the contrary. Tho fact that tho newcomer's glance had gone straight to the knifethrower, in conjunction with the latter's silent warning, to his mind argued previous acquaintance; and that conclusion was confirmed when presently the cyclist, finishing his beer, went outside and was followed immediately by the other. Lavenham made no attempt to spy on them; but now he was quite sure that tho knife-thrower was acquainted with his name, and that momentarily at any rate he had mistaken him for the man at The Three Feathers. Would the newcomer be able to set that mistake right? If not, it 6eemed to him there were lively moments ahead. He began to think that the sooner his mission was discharged the better, and taking out tho letter he had to deliver he considered the address for tho first time. Miss Helen Lavenham, The Priory, Kotanam. Ho whistled in surprise as ho read the name, then recalling the surprise shown by the girl whom he had succoured on the road, jumped to tho truth. Here was the explanation. She had known the name, and mistaking him for his namosako was expecting a visit from him. He chuckled to himself. It was, he thought, an odd sort of coil; and as he considered tho letter he wondered what mystery was behind it. That he would ever know seemed very improbable; but there was one thing he could learn that might, be helpful; and without delay ho sought the landlord. " What is tho name of that circus-man, Smale ?" " Calls himself John Prado," answered the landlord, " which is a good enough name for a foreigner I'd reckon." "Yes," laughed Lavenham, carelessly; and turned away as the inn-maid brought the news that supper was ready. He followed ■ her to a neighbouring room, where he found three tables spread, and tho girl indicated one. " This be your table, zur." "Indeed!" he said. "And the others ?" " They'm vor Mr. ITnmmerton an' Mr. Prado, who like to feed alone. Between you an' mo Mr. Lavenham, they'm both a bit queer." Lavenham, knowing the girl, laughed at her confidence, and wagged an admonitory finger. " Tryphcna, you will be saying tho same about me- to these two gentlemen." " Not me, I know you, zur. But Mr. Hammerton, now, what, goes chasing inoths by candle-light—" She broke off sharply as someone walked up the passage whistling. " Lor!" she whispered. "Talk ov the devil, an'—" She made an expressive gesture and fled. Lavenham smiled, and while he ate, kept an interested eye upon the door, assurer! that in tho next few minutes ho would bo making the acquaintance of the moth-catcher. He had not very long to wait. Tryphena bustled in with a tray, winkled broadly at the artist, and almost at her heels followed a man, tall, lanky, loan-faced, with a thatch of ruddy hair, and a fan-like beard of tho same hue, which hung well down his chest. His eyes were hidden by blue glasses, he was dressed carelessly in a Norfolk coat and knickerbockers which emphasised the thin, pipo-liko legs; and the boots he woro were much begrimed, proclaiming that ho wont further afield than the roads would take him. For whatever reason ho woro glasses, it was not that his sight was bad, for almost instantly he was aware of Lavenham's presence in the room, and to tho artist it appeared thnt he was surprised. Ho saw the man start, then he halted sharply, and Lavenham would have taken an oath that tho eyes behind those blue glasses were regarding him intently, staring in a way that would have been impertinent had they not been veiled by the spectacles. Wondering at the man's surprise, the artist gave him the greeting permitted to strangors housed temporarily under tho samo roof. " Good evening." " Good evening," replied the other, with a cordiality that was surprising in view of Tryphena's description of him. " Tt is very cold outside." " Very." The man stepped forward to the fire, spread a lean hand to the blazo, and then looked at Tryphena, who was busy at the table which was set aside for him. " One moment, girl," he said, and then looked at Lavenham. " I wonder if you would mind me sharing your table, sir. A man grows tired of his own company at times." " I shall bo honoured," Charles said, then no'dded at the girl who stood waiting. The new-comer left tho fire and seated himself opposito the artist, and a moment later remarked carelessly. " Do you know, sir, I think I can guess your name ?" Lavenham was a little startled, but laughed easily. " Perhaps yon have it from Tryphena there, as t have yours, Mr. Hammerton." "No!" repl ; ed the other sharply. "I have not been gossiping, nor have I heard it mentioned here. Nevertheless, I am sure that it is Lavenham." " You are right," answered the artist, hiding his wonder under an air of casualncss. "But how do you know—?" "And for a guess, your other, name is Charles." (To be continued daily.)