IS THIS REVENGE?

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22350, 22 February 1936, Page 33 (Supplement)

IS THIS REVENGE?

AN ! EXCITING MYSTERY NARRATIVE

CHAPTER XHl.—(Continued)

"Good idea," commended Slade. "Now, how many strangers entered tho building between then and, say, quar-ter-past three?" "Four, sir," answered the man promptly. "You're sure of that?" "I'd swear to it. Two asked me on which floors certain offices were. They were women. The other two, who were men, just walked in. One was a small man in a bowler-hat and light grey tweed coat with white silk muffler. He limped badly, and I saw him go straight to the lift " . The detective glanced at his watch. It was ten minutes to six. Going to the door, he told the constable to wait in the room with the commissionaire for a few minutes. Then he hurried to the lift-shaft and rang for the lift. When the man opened the gates he put his question to him, and was gratified to see the light of recollection dawn in the man's eyes. "Yes, I remember him all right, sir. That's right, he limped badly. White scarf and grey coat. I remember him all right, I do, sir. Which floor ? Oh, the fourth. He wanted Mr. Pennymole, the art-dealer's. Wasn't in here long. I took him down about a quarter of an hour afterwards." Slade hurried back to where he had left the commissionaire, and the constable once again took up his station in the corridor.

"Now, Tinford, what about the second man?" Slade had to make an effort to keep the elation out of his tones. This sudden run of luck was almost too good to be true. "Ho went in about ten minutes to three, sir, and from where I stood I saw him go up the' stairs." "Yes, and what time did he come down?" "Close on twenty to four, I should say, sir. I can't be exact to the minute, because I didn't look at my watch for nearly a quarter of an hour after that. I get a cup of tea at four o'clock, you Bee."

"Very well, then, I'll say twenty to four. Now, I want you to think carefully, because it's very important. Would you recognise him again if you saw him?'"

The commissionaire stroked his moustache meditatively. "Yes, I should—providing his face was the same." "What do you mean?" queried Slade quickly. * "Well, he had a thin moustache that came to the ends of his mouth. It gave his face a sort of foxy expression, if you know what I mean." Slade nodded vigorously. "And his shoulders were rather bent; besides which, he walked with a kind of gliding step. -He was dressed in dark clothes, with a dark felt hat. But I should say that with that moustache off, his shoulders straightened —adding a bit to his SHOP ACTS

height, sir—and rigged out in some other togs, and if he could alter his walk —well, I should tay it'd be a ticklish job to pick him out of a crowd." "You didn't hear him speak—to a taxi-driver or anybody ?" "No, sir. When he left the building ho walked down toward the Circus." "Was he smoking, either when he came or when he left?" "No, sir." "Do you remember what kind of gloves he was wearing, Tinford?" "Shammy-leather ones, sir." " Did they look new, or as though they had been in use for some time?" " No, they weren't new, sir." The commissionaire smiled faintly, as though at a witticism. " Very good, Tinford. That'll bo all for the present, thank you." Left to himself, Slade crossed the room behind the screen, and, taking from his green leather attache-case a pocket-torch and a pair of tweezers, he spent some time over his examination of the safe. When he had finished, he had satisfied himself as to the object of the murderer's visit. The murderer had come for "something which had reposed in a little drawer fitted into the back of the safe, and which was hidden by a row of ledgers on the shelf in front of it. The lock of the safe drawer had been attacked with skill. The thin lip of the metal drawer had been bent back with some pointed instrument, possibly a jemmy, judging by the impression, and the lock forced.

A few minutes later Clinton's voice answered the call Slade had put through the Yard. " If Miss Watts' description holds," said Slade, " it's the same man who got Eklimakos, and is trying for Mannering. He's left with something he wanted very urgently. And he's a quick worker, if this job here's a sample of what he can put over. We've got to speed up on this case. I'm coming straight back when I've got rid of a couple of reporters who're dogging my heels."

CHAPTER XIV. THE HOUSE AT STEEATHAM Slade arrived back at the Yard to find a visitor awaiting him. This was one Arthur Overton, a taxi-driver in the employ of the Marylebone Taxicab Company, Limited. Overton had driven his taxi to No. 27 Gancliester Gardens, somewhere about ten minutes past six, as ho recollected, on the night Eklimakos had been murdered. The theatre manager had told him to drive to a restaurant in New Gerrard Street, Soho. " And what time did you set down your fare at Mavini's?" " Couldn't have been later than twenty to seven, sir. But it might 'ave been nearer 'alf-past six." " Very well. Did you see him ehter the restaurant, Overton?" " No, sir. He was some time finding change. Then a man came out of the restaurant and up to him. 4 'Ullo,' 'e ses, 'so you've got 'ere.' My fare iust

(COP Till GET)

By LEONARD R. CRIBBLE ' . Author of "The Grand Modena Murder" "The Gillesplo ouicia# wiyowry,"Tho Case of tha Maraden Rubiea."

said yes, and asked the other gentleman to settle up with me. And that's all I knows, sir. They went in, then, and I moved on." Clinton glanced across at Slade inquiringly, but the latter shook his head. " Can you describe the second man, Overton?" the sergeant asked. " Well, you see, sir, look at 'im specially close, yoi\ see. But 'e was clean-shaven, in evening-dress, rather a pale face, I thought, but I wouldn't be sure now. Any'ow, o treated me 'andsome. Proper gent, 'e was, sir." When Overton had gone, Clinton returned to another matter. " Oh, those exchange people got through this afternoon, sir,'' he announced, while Slade sorted over the papers on his desk. " They report that someone did ring up Eklimakos ■ house shortly after twenty to nine on the night of the murder —and from the callbox Chester mentioned." Slade stopped in his work of Borting to smile grimly at his sergeant. " So the people at Number Twentyseven have not told the truth, eh ? " Looks a bit like it." The smile vanished from Slade s face. " I'm afraid there's something being concealed in that quarter, Clinton, which, if only we know it, might help us considerably. • . • Get through to the New Parthenon, and tell em they can expect us in three-quarters of an hour. Oh, somebody'll be there all right. They're preparing for the new show, which comes on in a few days.' Twelve minutes later the door or Department X2 opened to admit Farrar. Both Slade and Clinton left their work to hear his report. _ It was brief and to the point After leaving Braith Place the plain-clothes sergeant had made his way to 198 Bedford Row, where Mannering rented an office on the second floor. On the frosted-glass panelling of the door, he went on, was the name "C. Dudley Mannering, Commission Agent, Foreign and Colonial." On showing his credentials he had received a duplicate key to the office and had entered. His search, however, had revealed little relating to any business Mannering had been occupied with during the past few weeks, and an assiduous examination of files and ledgers had resulted in his discovering nothing concerning Mannering's financial status. The names he had come upon had suggested nothing to him. .. , . He had finished going through the last of the ledgers when ,he became aware of the girl from the inquiry office on the ground floor standing in the doorway. She had something to tell him. Farrar paused to refer to his notebook, then looked up with a keen expression in his eyes. "According to her tale a man arrived in a taxi on the previous afternoon—yesterday, that is—and he gave her a letter from Mr. Mannering. Well, she swears that tho letter was in Mannering's handwriting, and as the By J. H. Rouson

stranger showed her Mannering's key to his office she let him go in. The letter authorised him to take away a suitcase. She went up with him, and when they entered there was the suitcase right enough, over by the radiator. The man simply picked it up, came out and locked the door, and then went downstairs to where he had left tho taxi waiting. The girl followed him to the door —and here comes a piece of luck, sir." "She heard him tell the driver where to go?" Slade was sitting forward, an intense look on his face. "Not exactly. She saw the driver turn to argue with him. Then after he had put the bag inside he stepped on to the pavement again, and the driver raised his voice. 'Streatham's a long trip. What about the coming back?' she heard him ask. After a couple of minutes' further arguing the man got into tho cab and it drove off. That's the girl's tale, sir." Slade nodded. He saw that something further was coming "Well, when she'd gone down again I sat thinking it over for a few minutes. I hadn't come across any reference to a place at Streatham in any of the books or files I'd been through, but it occurred to me that he might have written a letter addressed to the house Bome time shortly before. So I went over tho stains on the blotter-pad. On the third sheet I came across what I was looking for. Mannering had evidently blotted an envelope on it. The address was 'Grasmerc, Leigham Avenue, Streatham, S.W-16.' " Farrar read the address from his notebook, then looked up. "Now comes the rummiest part of the whole business, sir," ho announced, closing the notebook and replacing it in his pocket, "Well?" "Tho girl in the inquiry office assures me that someone else came inquiring about Mannering—this morning." "H'm. . . Well, who was heP" "He gave the name of Stein, and said he was a friend of Mr. Mannering's who had just returned from abroad and was anxious to get into touch with him. She admits he was a foreigner all right. Fairly young, too. I was wondering if " Slade sat up. "Yes, Dohss for a certainty. Though I can't imagine how he found out Mannering's office, unless Look up Mannering in that 'phone directory, Clinton." "Here it is," said the sergeant, after a pause, "given after his home address." "Right." Slade turned to Farrar again. "Have you brought the lettei the girl received, or did she destroy it?" "No, here it is, sir." Slade took tho envelope and regarded it through half-closed eyes. "You've got some specimens of his hand-writing, Farrar?" "Yes, sir. I picked up a couple of letters at the office." (To be continued on Saturday next)