THE KILLERS

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXI, Issue 21396, 20 October 1934, Page 13 (Supplement)

THE KILLERS

By LEONARD R. GRIBBLE

CHAPTER XXI The girl read the letter through twice before she looked up from the single sheet of notepaper. Then, without a word, shg handed it to Ronald The letter had been found on the mat inside her room when she had unlocked the door. Ronald glanced over the contents of the sheet, and a little smilo fluttered to his lips. At last he was finding a change in luck. The note ran as follows: Darling Giulia, Expect me at seven o'clock. I have got tickets for the Coliseum, and there is something very important I have to talk to you about. It may mean my going away for some time. Be ready for me. Longing for you, Your own, Enrico. Ronald glanced at a clock on the mantelpiece. It wanted ten minutes to seven. His eyes met the girl's, and it seemed to him that she understood what he was going to ask. " You let me—er —tackle him, signorina ?" She nodded slowly, her mouth pressed into a thin line of pink. Under the strain of her sudden emotion the line of her breasts rose and fell heavily. "Si, signor. Do as you please. It will perhaps bo better for him I" She laughed low, as though to herself, but a blaze of hate lit her eyes. Her lips parted, and her mouth trembled. Ronald looked quickly away. Rotter as Kolletski seemed to be, he had somehow succeeded in stirring a doep affection in this Italian girl. Trench's words came back to Ronald. He stole another glance at the girl, and the expression of hate he now saw on her face surprised him. For the moment she looked thoroughly capable of fulfilling the words she had uttered in the street. They .sat down, and the minutes began slowly to tick past. At three minutes to seven Ronald got up and began walking about the room, followed by the wide gaze of the girl. At four minutes past he was standing on tipj toe looking out of the window, hardly able to contain his impatience. And then, with the minute hand of the clock on the fifth division after the hour a light footfall sounded outside in the passage. Instantly Ronald swung round and moved to the centre of the room. A sharp rap sounded on the door, followed by a discreet cough. Ronald glanced at the girl, and for a couple of seconds neither moved, then unhurriedly the girl rose from her chair, crossed to the door, and flung it open.

A man tripped lightly inside. The door closed, and a key turned. The man started with surprise. A hand flashed to his hip-pocket, but seconds too late. Ronald's fist smote him hard on the jaw, and behind it drove every ounce he was capable of exerting. Kolletski did not even gasp. He merely sprawled, full length on the floor. Three minutes later when, he came to himself it was to discovejr Ronald standing over him, his own automatic gripped in the young man's hand. Ronald's words floated to him through a haze of pain, " Now, Kolletski, I want the truth, and, what's more, I'm going to get it r~if I have to shoot it out of you." The grim expression on Ronald's face, as it cleared before the prisoner's sight, required no second glance. Kolletski cowered back in his chair, and tried to raise his hands, only to find them secured with a stout, length of cord. Ronald had come prepared for emergencies. "1 know nothing, Mr. Blass " "Don't mention that name!" Ronald commanded. The other gulped, his pig-like eyes bulging as the automatic was pressed into the pit of his stomach. " No!" he gasped, his skin turning a sickly green colour. " Remember, then. And now forget the lie you were going to tell. Speak." A thick tongue was pushed between the twitching lips* and drawn over them nervously. " But I really don't know anything. You're entirely mis—" "Kolletski," warned Ronald, his eyes narrowing, his wrist pressing upon the automatic, " 1 told you not to lie. Well, don't. I have no time to waste —and the police are waiting to clear up a pretty little murder case at the—"

Kolletski shot a wild glance at the girl, sitting back in her chair, a contemptuous sneer on her face. "No names—please!" he implored huskily. Perspiration, gleamed on his forehead, and his eyelids shuddered. " Is Grigorni at Bunter's Wharf? The truth, mind!" The hammer of the automatic clicked faintly under Ronald's thumb, and the man squirmed vigorously. "No. no!" he shrieked. "Don't shoot, for God's sake! No —he is not at the wharf. Uh!" " Where, then?" Again the hammer of the automatic rose and fell, and once more the man wriggled, terror stamped on his face. His breath came in panting gasps. "Grigorni will kill mo!" he moaned. "I can't double-cross the Nightborn and still live." "You can't double-cross me and hope to live!" struck in Ronald threateningly. "But—but—" He lay back, beaten "Now—where is Grigorni?" continued his inquisitor. Kolletski gulped, looked round for the last time despairingly, then subsided. " Fardale Hall," he muttered. Ronald stared. Fardale Hall! Lord Parley's old residence, not far from the other side of Croydon. It had been on the market some couple of months ago, and rumour had it that a private pur- v chase had been effected. And now . . . Ronald continued to stare "And the girl and the old man?" His voice sounded higher, more excited. Giulia Minetti llashed him a swift glance, and a brief wistfulness lit her eyes, then the hard expression returned to them as she contemplated Kolletski. " They are with him—yes." "And the others? The American and Maude and Trench?" Kolletski shook his head, then nodded, still squirming away from the pressure of the automatic. "I do not know any names," ho muttered. "But, yes, there is an American and two others. They would not speak, and the American is wounded." "Badly?" demanded Ronald. "In the thigh. Not badly—too badly," he amended Ronald considered the man for a moment, then put a direct question* ' "What is Grigorni's plan?"

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Two red-rimmed eyes stared up at | him, and Kolletski shook his head j vaguely, " I don't know —" he began. "What is he going to do with thp prisoners?" snapped Ronald, a truculent note in his voice. Kolletski swallowed hard. " If the girl and the old man don't talk he swears he will shoot them." "What does ho want to learn from them ?" "How they changed places with —" He suddenly paused, a frightened look.on his face. Ronald gestured with the automatic. " All right. I know that much. Does he know who they are?" " He does now." Ronald stoo]>ed closer. " Will he keep his promise—about shooting them?" " He always keeps his promises!" murmured the other, with a note of awe in his voice. Ronald straightened his back. "Not quite always," he contradicted. "There's one promise he's not going to keep, Kolletski. I'm not going to hang for the murder of Karl Grigorni. That little appointment is being kept for —•" He paused significantly, and his stratagem worked. Kolletski snapped at the chance. " It wasn't me who did the murder — it was him. Ho took your phone message himself, and told you to come at half-past three. It was him —him, not me, I tell you!" he shrieked, beside himself with fear. " You'll have a chance of explainingall that later, Kolletski. Meantime I'm going to leave you to the tender mercies of our mutual friend Miss Minetti." Kolletski's eyes flickered from one to the other, not understanding the ironic note in Ronald's tone. " What—-" He hesitated, troubled by the ominous look on. the girl's face.

Ronald crossed to the girl's side, and ■whispered some words in her ear. She nodded meditatively, and the bound man caught the words "police," "halfpast eleven at earliest, unless you hear from me." A new feeling of apprehension stole over him. What did this mean?. What was the cause of this change in Giulia ? *"\ He was soon to learn. Ronald, pocketing the automatic, picked up his hatpurchased at a multiple hatter's in Poplar High Street that afternoon —and turned to take his leave. The girl flashed him a bright and warm smile, and gallantly he blew a kiss from his finger-tips. Then, with a further cautionary admonition in dumbshow, given expressly for Kolletski's benefit, he opened the door quietly and tiptoed into the passage. Behind him he heard the girl return the key in'the lock.

Quickly he made his way down the passage and out of the front door. Street lamps were twinkling when he stepped on to the pavement, but heads still showed at the windows alone: either side of the street. The old man with the chestnut barrow had gone. In his place was a draggled-looking woman with a barrel-organ, which was grinding out tunes thirty years old.

As he turned to hurry out of. the street Ronald remembered Trench's reference to a back entrance. A mischievous smile overspread his features. He found the narrow court which led round to the back gardens, and followed it until The came to the wooden gate opening on to the garden of the house he had just left. He passed through, and made his way up to the dustbin. Opposite, .a few feet way, was the window of the girl's room. She had lighted the gas and drawn the blind since he had left. But there was no mistaking the nature of the hoarse grunts and sharp, shrill phrases of vituperative Italian which proceeded from the room. In the language of Ferguson Pitt's country, Kolletski was getting his! CHAPTER XXII It was close upon half-past ten as Ronald turned out of a small pathway, crossed over a stile, and struck across a dark field. He had spent a quarter of an hour in the Cock and Feathers, a quarter of a mile back, and now knew the shortest cut (and, incidentally, the most concealed) to Fardale Hall by heart. Through the night his keen eyes searched for the landmarks he had memorised* found tbem, and his step continued with a jubilant spring in it.. Again he was about, metaphorically speaking, to cross blades with Grigorni, and this time he possessed a confidence that had been lacking from his mind on those previous occasions. Before taking the train from Victoria to South Croydon he- had got through to Hammond again, and had had time to leave him with explicit instructions before the inevitable interruption from the domiciled detective. From South Croydon he had proceeded down Normanton Road into Selsdon Road, which he had followed for some distance, before branching ott iir the Sanderstead direction. Eventually, his spirits soaring, he had arrived at' the Cock and Feathers, at about three minutes to closing-time. He had now, at a rough guess, some sixteen minutes' tramp ahead of him before he arrived at the grounds of lardale Hall. His reckoning, as it proved, was not far out. Jim Seggins' radiohte Ingersoll, which he had borrowed for the day, informed him that he had been exactiv eighteen minutes walking tj* 0111 the stile to the front gates of the Hail. The main gates were locked, but a small gate at the side was unlatched. He slipped through, after a hasty glance round, and darted into the inidergrowth at the side of. a large, wide drive. , . , Careful! v now, crouching well down, and listening for the possible snarl ot a dog, he moved forward, following the drive. Five minutes Inter he saw the grev-black silhouette of the Hall ahead of him. With even more caution lie advanced until he was among the hedges on the farther side of the drive. Then lie began a wide reconnoitre of the building, past a garage and some gardeners' sheds, through a kitchen garden and across a bare expanse of lawif and behind some tennis courts. Finally he drew up among the bushes at the foot of the west wing. Although lights appeared at several windows, they were all in either the main building or the east wing. How- ' ever, in his cii'cling of the Hall he had not heard a single sound from ipside. The lights burned at the windows, but all was quiet—ominously quiet he would have thought had he not been so confident.

It was not difficult to prise open one of the smaller of the mullioned dows on the ground floor of the west wing. A carpenter's chisel he carried in his pocket (another loan from Peace Street), its sharp blade bedded in a cork, was sufficient for the work, which was accomplished with little more noise than a few harsh scrapings. He climbed inside and pushed tho window to behind him. , . . , , Then, switching on his flash-lamp, which, luckily, had survived the prolonged swim in the Thames, and witli his automatic gripped in his right hand, he proceeded silently down a long corridor. Massive mahogany doors were revealed in the spinning ray of his torch. He paused at none of them, but continued to the foot of a staircase spread with a thick carpet. (To be continued dnily)