"NO HONOUR—"

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXII, Issue 22165, 19 July 1935, Page 19

"NO HONOUR—"

A FIRST - CLASS MYSTERY THRILLER

CHAPTER VI. —(Continued) <» Well, of all the . . Matson exploded. " Voi'j arranged for me to send vml a telegram to bring you back to London. 1 was to use any excuse I thought fit, so long as it would hold water. Now you ask me to discuss the Melody Memoirs. Dash it, man, the old boy's book is as dull as ditchwater. It is costing him a small fortune to have it published. I doubt if he will sell a couple of hundred copies. There is certainly nothing to discuss in the Melody Memoirs." jl cluck of resignation from Crooker. He took an especially large pinch of snuff. " When will you learn that details „ r€ always important?" he said. "If there is nothing to discuss in the book, how can your excuse hold water? This is a serious matter. It is quite probable that you, will have the police here to enquire about my actions. What are you going to tell them ?'' Matson was alarmed. "Police," he cried. "What is all this? How can you expect me to help when you won't take me into your confidence? Now tell me about it." " As I said before, business first. We ha re got to discuss the Melody Memoirs, and we have got to find something, say, libellous. That will give me an excuse to call in Phelps. Then I can miss nij' return train to-night. 1 must stay in London to-night, and I must stay at Toar house. To-morrow I will return to Mington and you can settle down to jjormal life again. Now then, the book." Matson was able to remember one passage in the General's memoirs which Blight possibly be construed as libellous and the two men religiously discussed it - until Crooker suggested, and his partner agreed, that it would be as well to take legal advice before passing the proofs for the printer. That done, Matson rang up Sir Perciral Phelps and arranged a conference for the late afternoon and then the two men went out to lunch. Throughout the meal Matson continually plied his partner with questions, but Crooker was adamant. " When we have finished with Phelps I will tell you a little," he said. " This is a Tery serious business and I can't take any risks. I know you can be discreet,* but you may do harm unconsciously and if you know nothing you cannot give, anything away. Yoju will hear all about it in due course." With that Matson had to be satisfied until they had kept their appointment with the lawyer and had received his assurance that no action for libel would be likely to succeed, if the parties concerned should take exception to the passage in the book. As Crooker intended, by the time the conference was over it was too late for him to catch the afternoon train back to Mington, and, also according to plan, Matson offered him hospitality for the night. i After dinner the tall! man once more asked Crooker for an explanation. " Well dcrn't blame me afterwards for dragging you into it," Crooker said. " It's a nasty business altogether. You are bound to learn soon that there has been a murder at Minfjton, and, as you know 1 am staying there, you will guess that there is a connection, so I may as well tell you. " Sandyman. the brewer, has been murderedj and Fate seems to have dragged me on to the stage—not, perhaps, as a principal, but in quite an important small part, " The fact that he has been murdered has nothing to do with my presence in London to-day, but it makes it desirable that I should be moire careful than I might otherwise be. 1! might be asked for explanations I am not prepared to give, and it is not mice to be in that position when a murder is being investigated." • Matson's alarm grew.

" Murder. You're not mixed tip with murder, are you?" " Mixed np in it ? I should think I am mixed np in it!" Then, seeing the Colour drain from his partner's face—- " Oh, don't worry, I didn't commit the crime, but I have to be careful not to load the police to tiink I may hare done." "Do they suspectyou?"

" At present, no. The police are not looking my way, but they may do so, and in that case you will have to be very discreet, Chprleii. Tou will have to remember bow ve discussed old Melody's book, and that Phefps kept tis iio long that it was necessary for me to irtay the night with you." " Perhaps you are right, after all, you usually are," Mlitson said, " the less you tell me the lesß likely I am to be indiscreet. However, you might tell me one thing; you did not commit this murder, of course. I suppose you don't know 1 who did?" Crooker hesitated. " There are several who might have done it," he answered. " No, I don't think I know who did it—but I know of one mail who does know." "And the police are of the same opinion as you?" "I don't think so. I think they missed a very important clue." " Of course it didn't escape your eyes. I have always said you should have been a Scotland Yard man instead of a publisher." "I don't think you quite understand," Crooker answered slowly. "It was my brain that worked on this occasion, rather than my eyes. The clue I noticed wasn't there. That was the reason 1 noticed it. Sounds complicated. I know, but it is the only way I can explain it." " However, I think that is all I had better teli you to-night. I am going to bed, and before I go, there is one more thing I want you to do for me." " And. that is?"

" Leave your back entrance unlocked to-night.,l may want to go out. And above all, to-morro\v and for ever afterwards, you must swear that you locked it yourself, and that you are as certain as possible that I did not leave the house during the night. " You had better look in my room in hour's time because yon forgot to ask me if I wanted to lie called early 011 tl you must find me fast asleep."

' CHAPTER VII BF.HI.VD THE PICTTTKE Following his instructions to the Tetter, about an hour after Crooker had ffitired, Matson went to his partner's fopm and asked the little man if he wished to be called early on the followday. Crooker, too, played his part. He Wursed th« tall man for disturbing him jnst as he was drifting into a comfortsleep and said he had no wish to T® awakened before the norma! time. Soon after Matson hnd returned to own room, Crooker slid out of bod. pressed and made his way very cautiously downstairs and to the hack 01 the house. He left the building with eqaal circumspection and it was not ? B ttl he was thoroughly satisfied that not been detected that he went 60 his way.

By COLIN HOPE Author of " The House in the >Vay," etc.

(COPYRIGHT

Crooker walked for a quarter of a mile before hailing a taxi and was driven eastward. He left the first vehicle after travelling for about two miles and then took another, and later a third, arriving within walking distance of his destination, not many miles from Matson's home, after travelling almost in a semi-circle. He might have walked the whole of the way, but he knew that he would most probably be unable to ride home after he had finished Ins night's work and he had no desire to walk the double journey. There was a young moon, but a high mist made the night dark enough for Crooker's purpose and he felt somewhat elated when he found how poorly lighted was Gordon Crescent, especially the end at which was situated No. ;}4, the house in which he was interested.

Quietly keeping to the opposite side of the road and well into what little shadow there was, he strolled past the house and out of Gordon Crescent. He was perturbed. His luck, that had held so well, seemed to have turned at last. At first he thought that the coast was absolutely clear, then there had been a glint of light on metal, just the faintest suspicion of a lightening of the darkness about the house, but ;t had been sufficient to warn Crooker that he mast be even more careful if he was to da what he had set out to do and escape detection.

He was dimly aware of the fact that in most districts policemen on night duty wore no bright buttons, yet he had no doubt that the light he had seen was from some metal part of a eonstable'u uniform.

Yinser had been quicker than he had expected itiim to be. He had hoped to complete his task before the police thought of Sandyman's town house. He returned to Gordon Crescent and approached No. 34 with a new caution. He had decided that he must go through with his errand, even though it be right, under the nose of the police. He managed to approach unseen to within a dozen yards of the policeman, who stood patiently guarding the_ gate that gave on to the garden of the house. Crooker put his hand on the railings and calculated his chances of vaulting into the garden. The proposed leap was complicated by the fact that there were some low bushes inside the fence. If he should touch so much as a twig it was probable that the policeman would hear the noise. On the other hand, there seemed to be no alternative, and the constable gave no sign of any intention to move from, his post. Either Crooker had to jump or give up his project for the night. Moreover, he knew that it was now or never. His errand would not permit of delay. The longer he hesitated the more uncertain he became, until at last, nerving himself for a supreme effort, he swung OEi the balls of his feet, then vaulted beautifully to land as quietly and surely as a cat on the soft turf on the other side.

For folly a minute he crouched anxiously in the shadow. It seemed incredible "that the policeman had neither heard nor seen him. At last, however, he was satisfied and he moved toward the house.

In contrast with the well-kept gar- ! dens at Mington, Handyman's town j house stood in a perfect wilderness of i tangled wiseds and overgrown shrubbery. ■ The building, too, was a monument of ! neglect, land Crooker could not help thinking that this house would hare been a far "more appropriate scene for the murdor than was the pleasant little ! country villa. As he had expected, all the doors and windows on the lower floor were fastened. He made a complete circuit of the house, and at last stood once again within a few yards of the constable, who had just finished a short walk up and down. Crooker went once more to the back door and without any further waste of time got to work. He had come prepared to force an entry and the lock gave hire; very little difficulty. As soon as he was inside he pulled on a pair of large over-shoes that he had carried in his pockets, and with his torcl. explored the passage on to which the door opened. He mentally patted himself on the back for remembering to bring the over-shoes, for the floor, strangely, was spotlessly clean and the mud on his own shoes would have left distinct prints on the polished floor. Evidently Sandyman had been more scrupulous about the interior of his town house than he had been with regard to the garden.

He did not spend time in wandering abont the house, for be knew exactly where wjis hidden that which he bad come for and risked much to find. He went straight to the front ground floor room and peeped cautiously through the blind. He could not see the constable, bat he had little doubt that he was not far from his post. This fact cramped his movement a lot, for it made it impossible for him to use his torch without taking a big risk. Fortunately he had been prepared for some such circumstance, when, some weeks earlier, he had faced Sandyman in the room and had realised that there was not the slightest hope of him surrendering, and he had taken care to memorise the position of various items of furniture in the room. _ Thus, after a little careful groping and at the expense of a slightly barked shin, he stood, roughly beneath a large picture that hung on the wall on the side of the room opposite the window.

He fumbled until he found a chair, and drew it toward him. This he mounted and soon found the picture. With a little difficulty he lifted this to the floor and found the hanger, which, he knew, was firmly fixed into the wall and was fashioned after the style of a repulsive gargoyle. He drew from his pocket the key which he had taken from the room at Kettling and which he had retrieved from its hiding place before leaving "The Man in Green," and fixed it in the manner he had watched Sandvman fix it. He levered upwards, and then, for the first time since he had started on his errand, he was caught unprepared. In the apparently solid wall a door opened and it did so, as Crooker should have remembered, downwards, so that it smote the little man smartiy on his upturned face and caused him to lose his balance and fall heavily. In doing so he put bis foot through the picture and knocked over a small table. Crooker was alarmed at the amount of noise that resulted from his mishap and for a moment he almost lost hss head. He mounted the chair again, and plunged his hand 'into the opening in the wall. He almost whooped with joy when his hand encountered a bundle of papers, and these he hastily crammed into his pocket. He explored the cupboard carefully and when he was certain that it contained nothing more, he closed it, pocketed the key and rehung the broken picture. The whole of this took him less than a minute and when he had finished he was breathless with excitement. He tip-toed to the window and peeped through the blinds, half expecting to find the policeman already at the door. His fears were groundless, for'there was no sign that the noise had been heard outside the house. Nevertheless, he did not feel disposed to try his luck too far. He had secured that for which he came and every minute he stayed merely added to the risk he was taking. (To be continued daily)