MYSTERIOUS MR. MALLAFORD.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIX, Issue 21136, 19 March 1932, Page 12 (Supplement)

MYSTERIOUS MR. MALLAFORD.

CHAPTER IX. STRICT CONFIDENCE. I saw at, once that Mrs. Lobbitt was— Dot, perhaps, exactly bursting with news, but certainly in possession of information which she was not averse to share with others ... in strict confidence. Having some experience of the rustic mirul and method in these matters (and Mrs. Lobhitt was a country woman, whereas Lobhitt, as he was continually letting one know, was a townsman) I perceived in her that spirit which suggests to the careful observer that its possessor rejoices in the knowledge that he or sho could tell a great deal, and he or she would, provided mystery is preserved and silence ensured. " You know something, Mrs. Lobbitt?" I suggested. Mrs. Lobbitt fingored her apron and fidgetted somewhat in the easy chair to whoso depths I had invited her. " Well, sir, I can't rightly say that I know anything of my own self, as it were." she replied hesitatingly. " Not of what you'd call my own knowledge, so fo speak." " Quite so, Mrs. Lobbitt. But you know of somebody of your acquaintance .svho knows something? Is that it?" " That is about it, sir. Told to me, you understand, sir, and, of course, not to be repeated." " I understand, Mrs. Lobbitt. Not to be repeated except, for very grave and serious reasons?" " Well, sir, I won't say that that isn't fio. If such reasons were to arise, sir—of course, there is an old saying, sir, to the effect that circumstances alter cases. The—tli© person I'm referring to, sir, would not object to the information being brought into the full light of day, so to speak if real, serious occasion arose, sir. Such as—well, as an innocent fellow-creature's life being in danger, sir." " I apprehend you exactly, Mrs. Lobbitt. Well, I think an innocent fellowcreature's life is in danger—very much so!" " Meaning—Ayrton's sir?" " Exactly! Avrton's life is in danger!" " You consider Ayrton innocent, fir ?" "I do! I'm quite sure he is, Mrs. Lobbitt." " Which those police, sir, are in that Base very much to blame. As I've saidlo Lobbitt, mora than once, they were £OO hasty in their judgments and didn't look round about sufficiently. And a sad thing it is, in my opinion, to seeothe spectacle of an innocent man a-sitting in a prison-cell awaiting his end while guilty people goes free as air! Wicked !" '"Mrs. Lobbitt!" 1 said, assuming a profound seriousness. " You speak of ■guilty people! Now, have you any idea - —has your informant any idea as to the identity of any guilty people or any guilty person ? Because now is the time to speak!" •- Mrs. Lobbitt did more fingering of h«sr spron, and while she fingered, her eyes moved from me to Gray and from Gray back to me. " It would be in strict confidence sir—whatever was spoken?" she suggested. " In the strictest confidence, Mrs. Lobbitt! Take my word for it." " I'd take your word, sir, for anything, of course. But—asking his pardon for mentioning such a thing—your friend, now ? Could we depend on him to do what I know you'd do ?—keep everything to himself ? Which I'm sure Mr. Gray will understand what I mean and feel no offence at my words." " Quite right, quite right, Mrs. Lobbitt !" said Gray, hastily. " You can look on me as on—on a stone wall, I shan't, blab!" " Mrs. Lobbitt," I said gravely, " we'll be perfectly frank with you, for we have a secret which at present we don't wish letting out, I am perfectly convinced of Ayrton's innocence as I've already told you. j Ayrton has appealed to me to help him I —l'm doing my best to help him, and I've Kh Mr. Gray fo help me. So now, Mrs. bbitt—out. with it!" But Mrs. Lobbitt shook her head. ** Tt isn't me at all that can out with it, sir," she replied. " But feeling assured as I do that you and Mr. Gray will treat the matter as gentlemen, I'll speak plain of what I know. The truth is, sir, that my niece, Peggie Flint., as is in service at Mallaford Court as parlourmaid, knows—something!" Gray and I were careful not to show j surprise; we tried to treat her announcement as if it had been the very thing we expected to har. " Peggie knows something, does she, Mrs. Lobbitt?" I said. " And—she's will- i ing to tell what it is, eh?" "Well, sir, Peggie's like the rest of us—she hears what's being said about Ayrton's innocence. And she knows something—what it is, I cannot say, sir, for up to now she's done no more*than give me a hint—which, I think, might ge to show that there's been what you'd call foul play. And, of course, Peggie has her feelings and sentiments like all the rest of us—she doesn't like to think of a fellow-creature being locked up on a charge of which he' 3 innocent," " Very admirable of her, Mrs. Lobbitt —very creditable sentiments! Now, do you think you can get Peggie to come and tell Mr. Gray and myself what it is that she knows—in strict confidence and privacy ?" " As long as I can assure her that not one word of it will get out, sir, I think I can," replied Mrs. Lobbitt. " But I must be clear on that point, sir. Now supposing that, after hearing what my niece has to say, you felt it to be your bounden duty to inform the police, would it be necessary to mention her name?" Gray stepped in there. " Not a bit!" he exclaimed. " ITer name needn't appear at all!" You can rest assured of that, Mrs. Lobbitt," I hastened to add. " Whatever if is that Peggie can tell, and whatever use we feel h<viind to make of it, her -name shall not be mentioned. Is that Sufficient ?" 1 hat is' <]nite sufficient, thanking you. sir," replied Mrs. Lobbitt. " Then—how would to-morrow evening, after you've had your dinner, sir. suit you? It'll be my mere s night out, and she always comes fo see r.ie, it would be convenient to her if agrc-fablc to yon." 1 told Mrs._ Lobbitt that the ricxi overling would mil. ns very well, and she* rose from her easy" chair to depart. But with her hand on the door turned and gave us a look lull of meaning. Of course, sir." she said in a lowered vn-re. all this will be between me arid my nier-e and yon gentlemen ! —Lobbitt, he won't come into it ! T shan't say a v ~ or d to Lphbiti about it. It's Lobhitt's dub night to morrow, and so he'll be ! our, when my niece comes. And these things. Mr, are best kept to as few people as possible. The fewer ears to hear, the fewer tongues to chatter, sir—as the saying is!" Mrs. Lobbitt went, and Gray and 1 looked at each other. " I wonder what this girl can tell," 1 said. I can make a pretty good guess," re plied Gray. " Something that sho has heard or seen at Mnllaford Court. What corf of girl is she?" L'p to now," T answered, " T have chiefly remarked her for her prettiness! A very good-looking damsel. But now I come to think of it, I should say that in addition to being endowed with a very good share of good looks, she's also gifted with plenty of shrewd common sense." " That's good," lie muttered. " There *nay be something in it. So many of them think they've something to tell, and when

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

A FINE STORY BY A FAMOUS NOVELIST.

it comes to it, they've nothing! I hope there is something in this! If this girl could just give mo the least, clue, an idea, a notion, anything to go on—" Wo had to wait twenty-four hours for that, however —and even then we were not quite certain that Peggie Flint could be induced to speak. But at the time appointed Mrs. Lobbitt appeared at the door of my sitting room, ushering in her niece —a single glance at Peggie's pretty face convinced 1110 that even if sho seemed a bit shv she was still self-possessed, selfconfident, and likely to prove a remarkably good witness. And when I had installed her and Mrs. Lobbitt 011 one side of the table, with myself on the other and Gray at my elbow, 1 lost no time in getting to work. " Your aunt tells us that there is something you can tell, and think you ought to tell, which may have some relation to the recent murder?" I began. "So—" Peggie Flint stopped me there with a sharp gesture. " I wouldn't say that, sir!" she said. " I don't know anything about that —the murder, I mean. What I know has something to do—at least may have something to do with the finding of those things at, Ayrton's cottage. I know nothing at all about, the other thing, sir!" " Oh!" I said. " I see! Well, if you'll tell us—" " I don't, want it to get out, Mr. Leicester!" sho exclaimed, interrupting me again. " It would never do for anybody to know that I'd told tales about anybody at the Court. Besides —there may bo an explanation, a proper one, of what I saw. Of course, I know what T myself, think, but that's only my opinion, and I'm not going to say it to anybody." " You can regard whatever is said here as being said in absolute confidence," I assured her. " Even if your information is used, your name shan't be mentioned. You can speak with full assurance. So—what is it?" She hesitated a moment, evidently considering a starting-point. " Well," sho said at last, " you know, sir, there are people about here who are saying that Ned Ayrton's innocent, and that- somebody, perhaps the police, put those things in the thatch of his outhouse and in the lining of the old jacket that was hanging there so as to get a case against him. I don't know anything about that, but I do know that I saw something one night which makes me think that there may have been what they call foul play—against Ned Ayrton, I mean." " Yes?" I said encouragingly. "Please go on." " It. was two or three nights after—after the woman was found in the wood," sho continued. " I can't be dead certain, but I think it would be the third night. I had toothache very bad, and about twelve o'clock I got out of bed to get something for it. It—" " A moment, please," interrupted Gray. " This*, I suppose, was in your bedroom. Does anyone share it?" " No, "sir—l have a room to myself. Wo all have, at the Court." " Very well—go 011," said Gray, who was making notes. " Twelve o'clock, midnight, you got up—yes?" " I couldn't find the matches," continued Peggie Flint, " but it was bright moonlight outside, so I drew up the blind, "to get some light on the dressing table and see if the match-box was there. Just as I did that I heard one of the doors down below openod—very gently. I looked ouj at the side of tbo window " What does that window look out 011?" asked Gray. " The kitchen-gardens and the hillside and the woods," answered Peggie Flint " It's at the back of the house, my room, all the servants' rooin6 aro .there, along a. corridor. My window looks straight down the walk in the kitchen gardens." " Well, you looked out," said Gray. " And you saw " • " I saw somebody come into the moonlight 011 the walk, as if from the house," continued Peggie " Just for a minute, that was. It went, right quick, into the shadow of a hedge that runs down the middle of the ■gardens. But for all that T could follow it—l could see the. head and shoulders all the way down the garden. I followed it right across the gardens, and I saw where it. went, too !"* "Well?" asked Gray as tbo girl paused. " And where did it go?" " It went through a gap in the hedge, close to Ned Ayrton's cottage! Ned Alston's cottage is at the back of the kitchen gardens. Perhaps you don't know exactly where it is ?" " Yes, we know that," I said. " We both know its situation, and know where the° gap in the hedge is, too. So the figure you saw want through the gap. as if to Ayrton's cottage, eh ? Well, what next ?" " Well, I didn't see anything of it for a few minutes after that." replied Peggie " Then it came back, through the gap, and up the kitchen gardens again. I'd been waiting for that, because the moon was shining from behind the house—behind me, as it were—and I know it would shine ori the figure's face, and I wanted to know who it was. But I couldn't see the face !—if, was too closely wrapped up a shawl or a hood or something. However, I did make out that the figure was a woman's!" "Iladn't you know that at first?" asked Gray. "No! It was so wrapped up, from head to foot, that, I couldn't tell when 1 first saw and watched it. But I saw better when it came back. And from 0110 thing and another, the height, and the walk, and so 011, I'd no doubt whatever as to whose figure it was!" "Well?" said Gray. "And who's was it,?" "Mrs. Barfoot's!" replied Peggie, " I'm as certain of that as that I'm here. I haven't a doubt of it!" " I suppose Mrs. Barfoot—if it was Mrs. Barfoot—returned to the house after that?" suggested Gray. "And you got something for your toothache, went back to bed, and when you got up next morning kept your tongue still about what you'd seen, eh ? And you've kept it still until this evening, eh? Just so!—well, now, as we're talking this affair over in strict confidence, just tell me something. You know that Susan Wheeler was found dead in the wood near Mallaford Court ? Now, tell me! —did you ever see Susan Wheeler alive?" CHAPTER X. 1M L'ASSE. From this point Gray look solo charge of Peggie Flint and I sat by and listened in silence.. I saw that thero was some object iu his examination of her—that ho was trying to get at something. Ho did get at Something in the end . . . but it was not what lie had hoped to get at. The girl nodded a ready acquiescence in that first question. " Yes, sir, I saw her!" she replied. " I was passing through the front hall when she came." "Who admitted her?" asked Gray. " Walters, the, footman, sir. And Mr. Stevens, the butler, was there, 100. Mr. Stevens took her straight into Mr. Mallaford's library." '"What time, was that, now?" "About six o'clock—all about six." Do you know how long slip, was with Mr. Mallaford in the library?"' Yes, sir. She was thero until about twenty minutes to eight." \ou saw nothing of her in there, of course, ?" No, sir. Rut J saw Mr. Stevens take in a decanter of port wine to the library about a quarter past seven." Did you see her leave the house?" Yes, sir. 1 saw her come out of tbo library, just about the time I mentioned. Mr. Webbam came out with her. Ho went with her to a table in the hall where they keep railway guides and showed her something in one of them. Then he walked down toward the gates with her and I saw him say good-by« to her there."

(COPYRIGHT.)

"Where were you to see all this?—l mean, when she wont away ?" " 1 was leaving the inner hall when she came out of the library with Mr. Webbam. When ho walked down to the lodgo gates with her I was in the, dining room; j Walters and I wore laying the table for j dinner. The dining room windows look j out on the gardens and the entrance j lodge." " Whero did sho go when Mr. Welibam 1 parted with her at the gates?" " I suppose sho went down tbo lane. ; sir—there's no other' way that she could ; take, is there?" " Yes, there is! Sho could tave turned to the loft, into that path that leads into the woods." " Oh, well, I can't say as to that, sir. I saw her go through the gates, and of course I thought she'd be going down the lane." " But as matter of fact, you don't know, I mean, you' can't say positively whether she went, down the lano or turned into the wood ?" " No, I can't say positively, sir. I saw no more than I'vo said —that Mr. Webbam walked down to the gates with her and she went through." " What did Mr. Webbam do then, after she'd gone ?" " Ho came back to the house, sir." "You saw him?—yourself?" " Yes, sir—l saw him come in and go into the library." "To Mr. Mallaford?" " Mr. Mallaford came to the library door, sir, just as Mr. Webbam enmo into the hall, and called Mr. Webbam. They both went into the library." " And stopped there ?" " As far as I'm aware, they did, sir. The dinner bell rang soon after that, and I saw both of them come out of the library and cross the hall into_ the dining room." "What time was that? —usual dinnerhour? What time does Mr. Mallaford dine ?" " Eight o'clock, sir, every night." " PunctuqJ, that night?" " Just as usual, sir." " Who was there to dinner ?" " Only Mr. Mallaford and Mr. Webbam, sir." " Were you in the room when they dined ?" " Yes, sir—all the time. Mr. Stevens Walters, and I were all there." "What time was dinner over?" " About the usual time, sir—a quarter-to-nine." " Do you know what Mr. Mallaford and Mr. Webbam did then ?" " Yes, sir. They did what they always do when there's been nobody but ihemselves to dinner—went straight into the billiard room. I took them their coffeo in there." " Were they playing billiards when you took in the coffee ?" " Just beginning, sir." " Do you know how long .they went on playing ?" " I know that they were playing at ten o'clock, sir, because I saw Mr. Stevens take whisky and soda into the billiard room at that time. I believe they always go on playing till they go to bed about eleven." " You can say positively, then, that neither Mr. Mallaford nor Mr. Webbam ever left the house from the time Susan Wheeler left it up to ten o'clock ?" Oh, ves sir!—l can say that positively! They didn't!" Gray became silent f° r a minute or two. Peggie Flint watched him ;I conld see that, she was wondering what he was after and that, his questions were interesting her. Suddenly ho looked up from his note-book. "You understand that, all this is in strict confidence?" he, said. "We shan't say a word to anybody about what yon have told us and you mustn't say a word about what we ask you? Understand ?" " Yes, sir, I understand that." "That's the style!—you're a smart girl! Now I want, to ask you a few more questions about . . . another person. Mrs. Barfoot! Mrs. Barfoot is the housekeeper, isn't she ?" " Yes, sir. But—" here Peggie Flint smiled, slyly and demurely— "wo don't call her the housekeeper up there, sir—behind her back, anyway. We call her the Boss!" " Why?" Because she bosses everything! Gives all the orders, and so on. Mr. Mallaford —he's—well, he might bo a lodger!" I see. Mrs. Barfoot is, virtually, mis tress of the establishment, eh ?" " That's about it, sir." Very well. Now you've got a very good memory, I can see that, and you'vu evidently an extremely clear recollection of what, went on during the evening of Susan Wheeler's visit, so just tell me this—do you know where Mrs. Barfoot was that evening?" Peggie Flint's reply came rapidly enough. " \ es, sir, 1 do. Sho was in Lonoon." " How do you know sho was in London ?" Well, for two reasons, sir. One is that the cook, Mrs. Silverside, went with her. They went, up together by the four o'clock train. The other is that Mrs. Barfoot bought something for us at a shop in London." When did Mrs. Barfoot return ? what time, that evening?" " Just before I went to bed, sir—about a quarter past, ten." " You saw her ?" " Yes, sir, I saw her—she gavo me the parcel she'd brought for me." " Did tho cook return with her." " No, sir—she'd come back earlier. I heard her say that sho'd left Mrs. BarToot at Swan and Edgar's shop, because she was going one way and Mrs. Barfoot another, after they'd finished shopping there." " And you're quite sure that this was the same, night as that on which Susan Wheeler had been to see Mr. Mallaford?" Positive, sir." Again Gray became silent, and suddenly lie closed his note-book and slipped it back into his pocket. " Well," ho said, " I think that's all, Peggie, and you'll remember all we've said about keeping our talk secret? Just to go back to one Jit-tla thing—you feel sure it was Mrs. Barfoot that you saw in the garden that nigh!, going toward and afterwards coming away from Ayrton's cottage? Quite sure?" • -" Yes, sir, I am sure. I'vo do doubt whatever in my own mind that it was Mrs. Barfoot." " Can you give reasons for thinking so ? " "I can give a very good reason, sir! Mrs. Barfoot, is a tall woman—a good head taller than any of the rest of us in that house; (110 women servants, I mean. Mrs. Silverside, she's a short, stout woman; none of the other throe girls in the kitchen are as tall as I am, and Mrs. Barfoot is a lot taller than mo. It couldn't have been anybody—anybody out of tho house—but Mrs. Barfoot." (To bo continued on tfhturdny next.)