MYSTERIOUS MR. MALLAFORD.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIX, Issue 21118, 27 February 1932, Page 12 (Supplement)

MYSTERIOUS MR. MALLAFORD.

By j. S. FLETCHER. .. Author of " Cobweb Castle," " The Wild Oat, etc-.

• SYNOPSIS. -A woman named Susan Wheeler is found hy Charles Leicester, murdered in a wood behind his garden. Leicester rushes to Mallaford Court, nearby, and meets a group of people there, on* of which was the housekeeper. Leicester explains the position stating he wants to make use of the telephone to call for the police. When the police arrive they recognise the woman as Miss Wheel"!-, a masseuse, who has been sent down from London to attend to Mr. Mallaford who suffers with neuritis. As the woman was known to be wearing jewellery which has disappeared, it is considered the criminal stole the jewellery nnd then murdered her. A young man named Ayrton, a poacher, is questioned. The point arises why did Susan Wheeler go into llio wood if she was known to have left for Box Hill station to catch o train. It is thought she met pomeono she knew v.lien ehe left Mallaford Court and went into the wood to have a quiet talk. A week later while tia\elling in a train from Waterloo Leicester meets a mail of shabby distinguished appearance. When leaving the train tlm man follows him and asks the whereabouts of Mallalorrl Court. On reaching home, Leicester is informed that Ayrton has been arrested tor th© crime. Leicester attends the Court ana is certain Ayrton is innocent. Leicester, while in Court receives a message from Ayrton to sec him, and it is divulged that tlie prisoner in a well-known cricketer. Leicester grants the request and Ayrton savs he is innocent of the. charge and asks Leicester to help him. Leicester interviews his own solicitor, and they decide to call in an expert in criminology, named Leelie Gray. Next day the latter arrives. CHAPTER IV. GRAY. 1 think Gray saw something of my surprise, for ho looked at, nie with a sort of apologetic smile as ho rose and shook hands. " I'm afraid you think mo a very unlikely fellow for my job, Mr. Leicester!" ho sikid. " All I can say is, I'll do my host—and I'm nob quite, as young as L look, either. Do you know, I've been turned clown because of my juvenile appearance, more than once!" He certainly had a juvenile appearance —I should have taken him for a goodlooking lad of not, more than nineteen—a fresh-coloured, pink-and-while, light-haired chap; the sort that you can meet by the dozen wherever there's green turf and some sort of a hall to hit, or kick, or knock about on it.

" Anyhow, you have a reputation," I said.

" Oh—a hit. of the beginnings of one," lie replied, modestly. "I've been lucky in bringing off two or three little tilings." "Murders?" I asked. He shook his head and his face became curiously grave. " Not a murder —so far," ho replied. " If this is a murder " "If?" I exclaimed, interrupting him. " It is a murder!" " Well, then, it's my first. We will begin by agreeing that it is a murder—as you say." I looked at, him wonderingly, not quite sure if he was quizzing me. " I don't see how it could be called anything but a murder," T said, after a pause. " The woman couldn't break her own neck!" " No," ho replied quietly, " I don't think she could do that, unless she fell down stairs or something of that sort. Let, us assume that it, was a murder. I gather that you think the man who's been arrested and charged is innocent?" " Yes, T do!" said I . " And that you want to clear him by finding tho real culprit?" " You'va hit it!" " Well, that's a worthy ambition, and we must do our best. I must bring all my forces—such as they are!—into the field." " What's your method ?" I asked, growing more and more inquisitive about him. "What—l don't know how to put it? what do you rely on ?" He cave me an odd look, and laughed quietly. "Why!' 'he said. "On common sense!" "Just that—and on patient work. Especially the former." " You don't go in for any—shall I call it hanky-panky work, I said. " No mysterious powers of insight, and that sort of thing? You can't tell where a man buys his hats by examining tho tobacco lie smokes, or suspect that he was born in Shoreditch because he wears number nine boots? Anything of that sort ?"

" Nothing of thai sort! Far beyond me!" "You just—what? Put, two ami two together, eh ?" " Ahout, that! After all, two and two do make four, don't they?" " Tliero are people, misguided people, who say you can't prove they do! I'm not one of 'em, though. Well, about this case? How much do you know?" Ho dropped his hand over the side of his easy chair and reached for a bundle of newspapers lying on the hearth-rug. " All that there is in thesn things," lie said. " Reports—proceedings at opening of inquest—proceedings before magistrates —and so on." "Well—and what do you make of it? What's your opinion ?" He smiled and threw the bundle down again. "I havo no opinion—yet! What I should like is to hear the whole story from you, as you, personally, know it. Then I'll begin to think a bit." Then, and while, a little later, we sat over the tea-table" I told him tho history of tho affair as it had presented itself to me. Ho listened silently, but with close attention, saying nothing until I came to the episode of the man who had travelled with mo from Waterloo and had next day been present at the police court proceedings against Ayrton. He woke up definitely at that. "That's good!" ho exclaimed. "That attracts me! The man is shabby, evidently down on his luck when you see him in tho train; next day, at tho police court., he is in purple and fine linen ? Excellent !"

"Why?" I asked. "What—" " Never mind! But you tHink the suit of clothes he was wearing when you saw him at the, police court was one which Mr. Mallaford was wearing when you fetched him to the dead woman ?" " I'm as sure of it as I can be sure, of anything! I noticed it particularly on both occasions. It was an exceptional pattern—a. rather loud cheek."

" Are, this man and Mallaford much of a muchness in size, then ?" "Yes! They're both tall and wellbuilt. .[ should say they're the sauio height, to an inch."

"Are they at- all alike in face?" "No! Mallaford has a full heard, an unusually full beard. The other man is clean-shaven, except, for a moustache; dark, turning grey." " And, when lie spoke, to you. after leaving the train, ho asked his way to Mallaford's house?" "Yes—to Mallaford Court." You gathered that he was a stranger to these parts?"

" 1 saw that bo didn't know, as he stood at. the end of the lane leading from Bo\ Hill station to the main road, whether Mallaford Court, was to his right or to his left. That was obvious. Besides—he asked me." " Good ! That's the best, bit of all you've told me—in my reckoning, anyhow." " Again—why ?"

" Well," he said, laughing, " hasn't, it got all tho elements of mystery in it? Here's,a> man turns up at Mallaford Court who is in tho shabby-genteel stage; muchworn clothes, frayed linen, patched shoes—you noticed all that—and generally down on his luck, but for all that a—we'll say a gentleman. Next morning bo wears bis host's clothes, linen, shoes, hat, and looks what they call a swell. Why this transformation ? Why ?" " Answer your own question," said I. Instead of answering ho laughed once more, and setting down his teacup rose from the table.

A FINE STORY BY A FAMOUS NOVELIST.

" Let's go 'and see the plnco ;it %vhicll you found the dead woman," he said. " And afterwards let us see, Ayrton's cottage, and Mallaford Court, and all tlio rest of tlie necessary scenery. Nothing like looking at the scenery heforo the actors are brought on the stage!" I took him into the wood by the exact route which 1 had followed on the morning of my discovery of the murder. At the place itself there was, of course, nothing to sec but the surrounding trees, shrubs and the stretch of grass on which I had found Susan Wheeler lying dead. Beyond looking about hint, with his hands in his pockets. Gray'seemed to pay no particular attention to the place. But he_cvident!y remembered the description of it which had appeared in the papers, and presently asked me to point out the gap in the hedge through which access to the wood could be had from the lane. I showed it, through the trees; lie made no sign of wishing to inspect it. "And that, lane?" he said. "Is lithe. one that leads past your house? Yes? and then along the side of this wood ? Yes—and where then 1" " To the entrance gates of Mallaford Court. Further, I understand that when Mallaford began restoring and rebuilding and enlarging the old house, which is now the court, he relaid and widened this lane; it is really a sort of carriage drive from the main' road up lo his house, though not his private property." " I see. And Susan Wheeler would have to go up the latio to reach Mallaford Court, and down the lane when she left Mallaford Court for the station? Just so! Are there any houses along that lane, on either side, between yours and Mallaford's 1 No—then there's nothing to overlook it. ? Can you see up it from your windows? You can't? Can the Mallaford Court*people see down it from there? No—it winds in and out, eh ? Then supposing Susan Wheeler inet somebody in the lane as she walked down it, they'd be unobserved, if there was nobody about? All right—now, where is Ayrton's cottage ?" Ayrton's cottage, a ramshackle place, Stood at the top of the wood, behind Mallaford Court; we went up through the wood to it, and I showed Gray the outhouse in which the police had made their discoveries. Ho paid little attention to this place, either; what seemed to interest him much more was its neighbourhood to the kitchen gardens of Mallaford Court. Ayrton's bit of ground, indeed, was only separated from the demesne of his rich neighbour by a thin hedgerow. " Mallaford must employ a lot of gardeners," remarked Gray, as lie craned his neck over the dividing fence. " Big gardens, these. And, by the bye, who and what is Mallaford ?" I knew rather more about Mallaford by that, time; various acquaintances in town, having seen my name and his in conjunction in the newspapers in relation to the Box Hill murder, had enlightened me.

"Hp's a big man in (lie city," I answered. "Of the firm of Mallaforcl and Stappleby, financial agents, I think—something to do with finance, anvway. I understand that he made a pot, of money sonic little time ago in financing some industry that sprang out of necessities of the war." " Wealthy man, eh ?" he asked laconically. " Hereabouts," I replied, " he's said to lie a millionaire. I know nothing of that. But he must have spent a lot of money on this place. We'll go round by the top of the wood—there's a path that emerges by the entrance gates of the grounds, and you can see the house from there." J led him by a roundabout, way until we came out at the point I had mentioned, close to the, wrought-iron gates which had attracted my attention. And as we passed the gates, Mallaford and two other men were just within. All three were in evening dress; I took ifc that they wero having a stroll round the lawns before dinner. One of them, a bigger man than Mallaford, I did not know. But the third was my quondam fellow passenger from Waterloo. And as the. three men, when wc caught sight of them, had their backs to us, their attention being fixed on a, bed of flowers, some features of which Mallaford was pointing out, Icontrived to whisper this bit of information to Gray. " Oil!" ho said, as we walked past tho gates and down tho lane. " And tho others '! Which was Mallaford ? Tho lessor of the two other men? .And who's the other—tho tallest man of the three? You don't know? Well —your man from Waterloo seems to bo in clover, doesn't lie ? The era of tho frayed shirt cuffs and patched shoes is over! Very interesting indeed, oh ?" There was little more said that evening about the business that had brought Gray under my roof. Wo talked other stuff—books, travel, cricket. But when I was showing him to bed he became busi-ness-liko again.

" You can go up to town with me earlv to-morrow morning?" ho asked. "Good —let us go bv a fairly early train." " Very well." I replied. " But—where are we going ?" " We're going to see Dr. Wardc-Robert-son, of Wiinpole Street, to start with," ho answered. "As to where we go after that, depends on what he's got to tell us."

I asked no further question; iny idea, now that tho affair was in hand, was to loi. Cray assume tlic entire control of it. e weni, up town early next morning and with somo little difficulty got. an interview with Dr. Warde-Robertson, telling him, in confidence, what we were after. But he could tell us no move than ho had already told the police, which was that ho hnd known Susan Wheeler for some time as a highly-respectable woman, formerly a professional nurse, who had gone in for work as a masseuse, had been frequently employed by him, arid had been sent, down by him to Mr. Mallaford. Of her private life and antecedents ho knew nothing, but he knew, of course, where sho lived in London, and he gavo us her address and a note of introduction to her landlady. That nolo procured us an entry to the dead woman's rooms, which, wo were informed, remained exactly as she had left, them. They were probably indicative of their late occupant's character, neat, orderly, carefully kept and arranged. Wo had not been in thero fivo minutes before Gray drew my attention to certain features. Look here, Leicester," lie said, heginning to • point out various things. " This woman, Susan Wheeler, either came from Holford, in Yorkshire, or lived there for some time; anyway, she'd a great affection for it. See—engraving of Holford Parish Church. Another of Mowroyd Hall,. Holford—beautiful old house. Portrait of Alderman Seltlnvaito of Holford, chairman of the hospitals committee. Portrait group of doctors, nurses, staff of Holford General Hospital —faded, and therefore, taken some years ago.' More bits of things connected with Holford. Susan Wheeler, without, doubt, was ii Holford woman! Perhaps tho landlady can toll us? "

But the landlady couldn't. Miss Wheeler, she said, had lodgerl at her house for about seven years. She was a very quint, reserved person, who, apart from her professional work, kept herself to herself and was very retired. It was very seldom that anyone visited her, and just as seldom that she visited anybody, and she scarcely ever received any letters. Holford ? All that the landlady knew about that was that Miss Wheeler regularly received a newspaper called the Holford Chronicle; it camo every Saturday morning. "That settles it. Leicester!" said Gray when wo bad left tho house. "We must go down to Holford, which, as of course you know, is a big manufacturing town in tho West Riding. Tt. is at Holford that we shall hegin to solve the mystery of this murder! "

(COPWGB?.,

CHAPTER V,

HOLfORD We went rlown (o Holford by tlio afternoon train, and wo bad 110 sooner ,-cached it, early in the evening, than I had a practical example of Gray's method of doing tilings. For instead of turning into tho big hotel at the station, as I should have clone, had I been alone, ho dragged me forthwith into the bustling main street, and bpgun a systematic examination of the buildings on each side, until, at its further end; in the oldest part of the town, he. paused, pointing out an old-fashioned hostelry with timbered front and above its door a signboard on which was painted some figure or device that I could not quite discern. But his ryes were better than mine. " The Woolpack! " lie exclaimed. " This is the sort of spot wo want, Leicester. Look in at the hall, old oak, old brass, old pewter, old furniture. Precisely what I'd hoped to find—you'll know why before the night's out." The. old inn looked decidedly inviting, and if a few minutes afterwards, we found its appointments Victorian and homely, they lacked nothing in the way of comfort.

But I was curious to know why Gray bad selected it, in preference to various more pretentious establishments which wo had passed on our way from the station, and I pressed liim for his reasons when, a little later, we sat flown to dinner in the quaint old coffee room. " Well, I'll tell you why," lie answered. " An old-established inn like this is invariably frequented by townsfolk, regular customers who come in night after night, to smoke a pipe, drink a glass, and exchange the news of the day; it is, in other words, a of club. Now what's our object in coming to Holford at all ? I know what mine is, anyway! " " Well—what ? " I asked as he paused, smiling. " Why, " he replied, " to find somebody who knows something, of course! — just that. An old townsman, say, who's thoroughly conversant with the doings of his fellow townsfolk for the last generation. And this is just the place in which to find such a man. There are in all these smaller provincial towns men—Paul Prys, most of 'em—who have the history of a place at their finger-ends; one of such men would be a Godsend to us at this juncture. From what we saw at her rooms this morning, I've no doubt Susan Wheeler came from this town, or lived in it for some time—in' all probability, though I couldn't of course identify her in that portrait group we saw, she was a nurse at the Holford General Hospital at somo distant date—and I want to see if we can't come across somebody who knew her or of her. And there's a thing you've perhaps forgotten, Leicester, or, I should say, that doesn't strike you. 1 his—if Susan Wheeler was, as I confidently expect to find, a Holford woman, tliero must bo people here, of about her own ago, who have recognised her name per accounts of your Box Hill mvsterv. And people talk!—and this affair'is still within the limits of the nine days' wonder. Let us, when we have dined, adjourn to the bar-parlour, which we shall doubtless find very comfortable, and where I hope to find a company of local gossips. I would not. mind going so far as to het you an even half-crown that before the evening is over wo shall hear the name of Susan Wheeler mentioned." " And suppose we don't?" I suggested. " Oh, well, we know—presuming that my belief that sho was a Holford woman and a nurse here, too, is correct—wo know where to get information," he replied, with the assurance of knowledge. "We simply go to the hospital authorities and ask tlieni to turn up their books. That's getting at things in the official, cut-and-clried fashion. If Susan Wheeler was a native of this town, I could find her record in ten minutes by going to tha registrar's office. But I prefer to get my information in my own way, and in my opinion one can learn no end of useful stuff if one keeps one's ears open —always providing that one goes to the right place. Gossip, Leicester, is a much despised vet, most valuable asset—in this sort of business." I daresay there's plenty of gossip—about this affair—to be. picked up around Box Hill," I remarked.

" -And I intend to pick it up when we go hack," he said. " But let's get those bits of the puzzle that I'm sure arc to be found hero first. Then we'll take up the bits that are lying about around you, and sec what we can do to pieco them together. There'll be other pieces elsewhere, though ! —and, no doubt, when we've got pretty ryearly every piece we want wo shall find ourselves wanting just that one piece necessary to complete the puzzle!" "And what shall we do then?" I asked. " Look for it —(ill wo get it," he replied carelessly. " It's bound to bo somewhere." Coming in to change plates, our waiter handed us an evening newspaper, the Holiord Evening Post. Gray picked it up and began to turn its pages over. Suddenly, without any exclamation of surprise, he passed it across the table, pointing to a line or two in big letters, followed by a lengthy paragraph. THE BOX HILL MYSTERY. MURDERED WOMAN A NATIVE OF HOLFORD. We understand that Susan Wheeler, the London masseuse, whoso dead body was recently found in a wood on the slopes of Box Ilill, Surrey, under circumstances which point to her having been • brutally murdered and robbed, was a, native of Holford, and some twenty years ago a nurse on tho staff of* the Holford General Hospital. According to our informant, Mr. R. D. Hindlc, the present secretary to the Hospital's Board, Miss Wheeler, who at the time of her death would be about forly-fivo to forty-eight years of age, was tho only daughter of a once well-known townsman, 'the late Mr. Charles Wheeler, chemist and druggist, of Copperhall Street, Miss Wheeler joined the General Hospital staff as a probationer nurse when she was nineteen years of age, and remained on it for some nine or ten years. Her father and mother both died while she was at tho General Hospital, and Mr. Hindlc has tailed to find that she has any relations left in the town or neighbourhood. " II we'd read that in a London paper," I said as I handed the sheet back, " I suppose there'd have been no need to come down here

" On the contrary, if I hadn't already decided to do so, that paragraph would have made me come down here," retorted Gray. " And hot foot, too!" "Why?" 1 asked.

" To begin with, it establishes the fact that Susan Wheeler was a Holford woman, and that, therefore, Holford is (he place in which to get news of her," bo answered. " And to end with it convinces ino that —as 1 said to you before leaving town this afternoon—the beginning of the solution of the Box Hill mystery will bo found—here!" "Again—why?" I repeated.

" Oh, well!" bo replied, laughing. " I may as well toll you. Of course I have a theory—it may bo all wrong, and as like as not I may exchange it for another, and that for quite a new one, and so on. But 1117 presont. theory is that Susan Wheeler was murdered by somebody to whom her mere existence was a positivo danger! Who was ho? Ah—let's find out first all about Susan as .she was in her nursing days at Holford General Hospital!" (To b« continued on Saturday next.)