"NO HONOUR—"

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXII, Issue 22166, 20 July 1935, Page 15 (Supplement)

"NO HONOUR—"

CHAPTER VII. — (Continued) ■ He hurried to the back of tho house and pulled the door shut behind him. His exit from tho grounds called for even more 'care than his entry. Unless the policeman obligingly strolled from his post, Crooker would be forced to leap the railings again, and this time the bushes would bo even more in the way than they had been 011 the previous occasion, and lie would have to land 011 the hard pavement, full in sight of the constable. This would have worried him but little if he had known that lit; would have a fair chance of outstripping the policeman should the latter chase him. More than a week earlier lie had reconnoitered the ground, and knew that within a reasonable distance of No. 3J, Gordon Cresent, there was a dark inews,, now occupied by a garage, from which radiated some very convenient alleyways that would be of great value to him if lie could but reach them. He crept to the front of the house and then went still forward until he was crouched under the hedge, almost near enough to the policeman to have touched him if he had cared to do go, which he certainly did not. Thus far —then he was forced to stop. The policeman gave not tho slightest Bi'gn of any intention to move from his post. Crooker could not help thinking how much better it would have been had tho night been bitterly cold. Then he • could have expected the constable to stamp up and down his beat occasionally. As it was, he could merely wait until absolute ennui caused the policeman to move—and it seemed that the last thing likely to bore the constable was his job of standing outside tho empty house. At last the prayed for diversion came, although it was scarcely one that Crooker had desired. A dog—either a stray, or one that had been locked out from his home for the night—came trotting alono the road. When it 6aw the policeman it swerved away, but the man was apparently beginning to feel the need 'of company of some sort and he called softly to the dog. Evidently the little mongrel was unused to kindly treatment, for he hesitated, one paw held just off the ground and his sharp little head cocked to one side. For some time he stood thus, until the policeman —by now genuinely interested —called him again, very softly and encouragingly. Still hesitant, his thin neck stretched to the utmost, his legs stiff and all his senses alert for ,the slightest sign of danger, the dog came slowly forward. The policeman, evidently a knowledgeable man with dogs, did not make any sudden advance. Instead, lie went down almost to his knees and put forward his hand, waiting for the dog to comd to him. At last there was contact. Nervous at first, but gradually becoming more and more bold, the dog licked the hand of the warm-hearted man and then began to wag its tail and finally to bound with every possible display of doggy joy about its new found friend. A seal was put on tho friendship when the constable extracted from his pocket a small piece of chocolate and a bun that he had brought with him against the time when his supper should become a dim memory, and gave it, qrumb by crumb, to the mongrel. It was a long time before the dog accepted the fact that the meal was at an end and then he settled down at the feet of tho policeman, from time to time looking up to him and vowing eternal fidelity. Crooker had been interested in the little play as it was enacted before him, but it did not get him any nearer to escape. In fact, it made his problem even more acute. Moreover, the night was passing more quickly than he wished. He wanted to be back in bed in his partner's house before dawn and already he fancied that the sky was beginning to lighten in the east.

, CHAPTER VIII VINSER NOTICES SEVERAL THINGS At last the dog tired of comparative immobility. He paced around tbe policeman, then stopped. Crooker felt, rather than saw, the significant rising of the hair of his neck and head, then —tragedy—a short, suspicious bark. "Shut up, you donkey," the constable growled, good naturedly, "there's no cats there. Besides, you'll wake up the neighbourhood." The dog refused to " shut up." Instead, he barked again. Louder this time, but still short, angry. He finished with a deep growl. The policeman was interested. No doubt it was a cat, but the noise would have to bo stopped. He came slowly to the dog, and when the bark was repeated, he began to move more quickly. Crooker realised that detection was inevitable, and in a second he had to make up his mind whether to clash for the open or to try to hide in the grounds of the house. The latter would get him nowhere, for undoubtedly the policeman would summon assistance, and it would onl.y he a matter of time before he was caught. If he chose to run for liberty he was, too, taking a long chance, probably the constable would catch him before he had gone the length of the street, and there was, in addition, the dog to bo reckoned with. As a, matter o» fact, Crooker was more worried about the animal than about the policeman He wasted no more time in weighing "is chances, but as the constable reached the spot where he crouched, ho II to one side, scrambled through ine bushes and climbed the fence. With J" 8 bushes between him and the fence, ?e had no chance to escape by exprut•flß a neat vault over the obstruction. As soon as ho reached the path ho ec off at a pace that for a man of 's stature was amazing. Thes policeH ' liu 'dl.v recovered from the rst shock /-before Crooker had covered the first fifty yards. Ihe clop;, however, was much more quickly off the mark, fie dashed hereon the constable's legs and scurried .i On K <tt a pace that brought him to e fugitive's heels by the time tlio stride"' Un l,p K'in to get into his pn^u°k er wa « now confident that ho j escape the policeman, hut the 0 ? ferried him. He might have kicked un+ "i 11 °f putting the mongrel m» hunt, but he was n humane R-aif' 11 hurting tbe littln Ra ' f appalled him. the dog was not at all Dr a,l< i instead of snapping at his 4.1 t ' r ', ,* 10 danced excitedly around H W ir,K foo.tmiok* Crookor ignored hitn. no harm nnn ■ i ,,een done, but the little hnnw.r n .°t keep his eves off the • . an ''nal, and eventually, as an table, there was a general mixlnj { n f 'Crooker tripped over the dog an £ fell headlong. the a ] VlnK his part on behalf of Mm lT' dog set about adjusting nnlfJ! nce ' bounded back to the rlAnff nian anr ' danced around him, eviexpecting praise. The policeman IWi 'f 11 ']' wary to avoid taking and «?• ' ,fi ,v,ris f° rcc, d to slow up this enve fVonknr an opportunity to ''' s nnf l sp t °ff once H.I h AiP° lioem,ln ma nnefid to grab at nnivJit i 11 ? 11 ' 8 shoulder, and this, apwtLn ic' -t, ( ' the dog that the quarry definitely the enemy of his new

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

A FIRST - CLASS MYSTERY THRILLER

friend. It was not a game, it was his business to help. His doggy mind made up at last, he darted once more to Crooker's heels and nipped the fugitive's legs, just above the ankle. Crooker let out a yell and whirled 011 the animal. He kicked wildly and, more by luck than judgment, caught the mongrel fairly in tlio middle and sent him against tho oncoming policeman. This time the constable was unable to save himself from falling and fortunately for Crooker he temporarily smothered the dog a« he came down. The little publisher did not wait to see what had happened to his pursuers. The mews that represented his immediate goal was not too far away now there were signs that the noise of the chase had roused others. For the third time he got well into his tiny stride, his little legs moving so fast that they seemed not, to movo at all. It appeared, in fact, that the upper part of his body moved along as on a wheel. By the time he reached the garage, the noise of the pursuit had grown. His legs were beginning to ache and he was almost exhausted by his night's adventure and by the run from Cordon Crescent. Nevertheless, he was feeling happier than ho had done since he first dashed from the house. The many ways he could escape from the inews gave him a chance to uso his brains and cunning instead of being forced to rely entirely on speed. Unobserved, he managed to slip into the darkest alley and although he slackened ihis pace slightly so as to conserve his energy for an emergency, he wasted no time in putting as great a distance as possible between himself and his pursuers. It was still dark, but his noticeable sinallness made it impossible for him to assure the role of innocent onlooker or even to join the hunters. He hurried along, dropping into a fast walk as soon as he judged it safe to do so, until at last he was fully two miles from the scene of his exploits and well on his way to Matson's house.

The first pale streaks of dawn were creeping into the sky when he at last reached his goal and slipped quietly in through the unlocked door. He was in friendly territory but he did not relax until ho had reached his own bedroom. He examined his leg carefully and was relieved to find that the bite was less serious than ho had feared. Nevertheless, lie cleansed it and bandaged it carefully before he drew out the papers he had ta;ken from Sandyman's house in Gordon Crescent. He got into bed and spread them out in front of him. Most of them were letters, but there were others: receipts, bills, scraps of memoranda and other similar things, which, in Sandyman's possession, had brought untold misery to their rightful owners and, in most cases, wealth to Sandyman. Crooker sorted the papers carefully, until he came, finally, to a packet of letters, still in their envelopes of a faintly pink hue, and tied, incongruously, with a piece of coarse string. He took the first of the letters and began to read: " My Dearest Rolfe, " A terrible thing has happened. My uncle has discovered our secret. He has forbidden me to see you again." "Of course, there was a terrible scene, and in the end I pretended to see his point of view and promised to do as he wished. "My dear, had you been present, hidden behind one of uncle's horrible green curtains, no doubt you would have thought me a Judas —no, a Peter —for I denied you. " Now, I cannot understand how I was able to do it, although it was for the best. If I had not pretended to agree with uncle, he could have made things very difficult for you, and you know I haven't a penny in the world. " After all, I am absolutely dependent on Ms goodness, and he is a dear, he has been more than a father to mo. " Of course, I need not tell you than I have no intention of keeping my word to him. I feel ever so sorry for him really, he is such a trusting darling, but even for him I could not possibly give you up. " However, we must be careful and patient for just a little while longer, my love. Uncle will see reason in time, and when ho realises that I cannot possibly live without you he will give us his blessing." The letter was a long one and full of the ecstatic outpourings of a maid deep in the throes of her first 'ovo affair. Crooker read it carefully to the end, then, with a sigh, folded it carefully and replaced it in its envelope. " The minx," he muttered. " ' Horrible green curtains,' I'll never forgive her for that." He took the letters singly and read them all through very carefully, and as he did so his expression frrrn time to time changed. Now he smiled, as some passage amused him, now some particularly foolish words caused him to draw his breath oharply, or to mutter " the little idot." When he had finished, ho looked toward the electric fire and shrugged his shoulders.

" Sometimes I am all against progress," ho said. He put letters and pink envelopes under his pillow and then turned his attention to the other piles. Ho went through them all carefully and made notes of various names and addresses on a slip of paper before he put them with the other letters beneath his pillow, and at last, with the early morning sun catching the chimney pots of the house opposite, he lay back and was soon as fast asleep as a tired child. He was awake and up in good time, and immediately after breakfast sought and found, in the kitchen, an open fire and, skilfully manoeuvring the cook out of her domain, he hurriedly thrust the papers into the flames. Soon afterwards he left his friend's house, but before returning to Mington he had one other job to do, and this necessitated a visit to his firm's offices. Then he lunched and caught the afternoon train to Ash bury, well content with the result of his trip to town. For the first time since he had left the village on the previous day b<* began to think about the Mington end of'the murder. He wondered how much Inspector Vinser had found out, whether he had arrested Stephen Adams, or Sandyman's doctor nephew. Ho thought, too, of the two tramps, and of Henderson and Rees. Undoubtedly, there were plenty of suspects for Vinser to work on. Crooker considered there were at least two more people in whose movements the inspector might well be interested, and he fervently hoped that one of them bad escaped notice. As a matter of fact, a shock was awaiting him. Crooker did not take the policeman to be a fool, but ho was scarcely prepared to find Vinser waiting for him on the platform at Ashbtirv. Fvcn then he did not at first attach any significance to the inspector's presence. " Hullo, Inspector," he began, " what is this, a welcome to the returning wanderer 3 " " Scarcely," Vinser answered. " I'm pleased to see you, of course, but ] must confess that I did not come to ineet you." "No?" doubtfully. Crooker suddenly realised that Vinser was lying. He had come especially to meet him. Strangely, instead of troubling him, the knowledge that he was under suspicion elated the little publisher. He had become a man of importance. Per-

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haps he might even be arrested. Then he dismissed tho thought. It was impossible that Vinser should seriously suspect him. He changed his mind, too, about tho desirability of being arrested —oven to satisfy his craving for notoriety. Cells, ho believed, were uncomfortable places-, and there was no bail for a mail charged with murder. " You've been to London, haven't you?" Vinser said, conversationally. " You don't honour Mington for long with your presence, do you? Go up 011 business?" " Now, look here, Inspector. Exactly what bee is buzzing in that smart little bat of yours? Are you cross-examining me, or is this just a little gentle pump?" " Nothing, nothing." The inspector was not quite easy. Crooker's attitude surprised him a little. "It seemed a little strange that you should come down for a holiday and return to London the following day—that's all." " That's easily explained. Didn't Adams tell you about tho telegram?" " Yes. I know all about that. At least, I know you received a telegram." Crooker was beginning to be irritated by the policeman's rather obvious hedging. " Evidently you have found my movements very interesting. Is there anything .else you'd like to mention while we are on the subject?" At this stage Vinser, too, dropped his mask. " Yes, tliore are one or two things," he said slowly and very deliberately. " 1 might mention, for instance, that Sandyman's town house was broken into last night and that the policeman who chased tho burglar had described him as an unusually small man, and has also reported that it is probable that he bears the marks of a dog's teeth just above his right ankle. " You would not, of course, complain if I described you as an unusually small man, Mr. Crooker, and I notico you walk just a little stiffly—which might perhaps be due to, shall we say, a soreness, ahem, just above the right ankle. • Besides, as I pointed out before, it is a little strange that you should be called to London so soon after you arrived in Mington." At this Crooker really lost his temper.

" Not strange, Inspector," he said. " Just a little beyond your understanding, perhaps, but not strange. Now, ] suppose you are going to arrest ino and lodge me in the county gaol. If it is not too much-to ask, may I have a cup of tea at the buffet before you send for the Black Maria?" " Yes, have your tea by all means. I am not think of arresting you—yet." Crooker turned away without a word, but the policeman stopped him with: " If I may, I should like to give you a tip before you go, Mr. Crooker." "Well?" " Next time you put your shoes in your overcoat pocket, be sure to clean the pockets thoroughly afterwards." CHAPTER IX A CONFERENCE AT THE INN Inspector Vinser watched the little man as the latter strode off with as great a show of indignation as his lack of inches would permit. " I wonder just what his little game is?" he soliloquised. "He has been up to something and just at present he is trying to make up his mind how much I know." Four cups of very weak tea and two impossibly sweet pastries gave Crooker a much brighter outlook on life and when he emerged from the station buffet he was once more on good terms with everybody. He smiled at the still waiting inspector and even apologised that he had not invited Vinser to accompany him inside. " Are you coming on the 'bus to Mington?" he asked. "Perhaps you will be able to think of some more funny stories to tell me to relieve the tedium of the ride."

" Still fencing, then," Vinser smiled. " Don't you think it is time you told me something." " Certainly not. Surely you know all there is to know. How can I presume to try to help?" The inspector did not answer. He was none too sure of his ground and for the first time since he had started to investigate the murder he was without confidence in his own convictions. Crooker was a puzzle to him and he was not at all sure that he was wise in taking the step he contemplated. The little man knew at once that there was no hidden doubt behind the welcome ho received at "The Man in Green." Both Stephen Adams and his wife were unfeignedly glad to have him back. Stephen, in fact, looked upon him as some sort of protector from the suspicion of the police. From a business point of view, the landlord and his wife had little to complain of. The murder had brought several visitors to the district and it was natural that thoy should gravitate to the inn. Stephen had told his wife something of their guest's discoveries at Kettling, and had, in truth, painted a somewhat highly coloured picture of his smartness. Vera immediately saw in him the super-detective and was perhaps a little disappointed that ho had not unmasked the murderer after a mere glance at the scen/3 of the crime. She liked the inspector, but she believed that Crooker was far more likely to solve the mystery than was Vinser. In her heart she had no great desire to see the slayer of Sandyman caught, but she realised that until that came about, her husband, as well as other innocent people, would remain under suspicion. At dinner, Crooker again caused Vera to shudder and amazed his follow guests by his tea-drinking, and afterwards settled down to spend a peaceful evening with a book —a Bradshaw. Crooker's favourite indoor pastime was sharpening pencils with a very delicate pocket knife, but when circumstances made this messy job out of the question, be was content to spend his leisure hours practising his very ornate signature or studying any railway timetable that happened to bo available. Ho was, however, fated to spend little time with his beloved book, for hardly had he arranged the chair cushion to his liking when Vinser was' announced. " 1 would like to have a little talk with you, Mr. Crooker," the inspector began. " Mr. Adams has put a room at our disposal and he is joining us as •soon as he has handed over the bar to his assistant."

Crooker groaned. " No peace for the wicked," ho complained. " All right, lead on, Mr. Commissioner. I'll come quietly." He staked bis claim to the most comfortable chair, near tlio fire, and leaned back, waiting for the inspector to begin. " I'll wait until Adams comes, if you don't mind," the latter said. " There's no sense going over the same ground two or three times." Thc.v had not long to wait, for hardly had Vinser filled and lit his pipe before Stephen—looking a little apprehensive —came slowly into the room and Vera followed almost at his heels. Vinser seemed almost as nervous as a tyro making his first public speech. Ho cleared his throat unnecessarily two or three times before, speaking almost dire,ctly to Crooker, he began: (To be continued daily)