IS THIS REVENGE?

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22356, 29 February 1936, Page 13 (Supplement)

IS THIS REVENGE?

AN EXCITING MYSTERY NARRATIVE

CHAPTER XlV.—(Continued) "Well, send it Clinton. I'm afraid that's all we can do meantime." He handed the letter to the sergeant, then addressed Farrar again. "Do you happen to know if Inspector Brawley is in, Farrar?" The plain-clothes man nodded. "Yes, sir. I saw him in the lobby as I came in." "Right.",, 7 Slade left the room, and returned ten minutes later.

CHAPTER XV A sunpnisß A short silence fell upon the group of tense-faced men in the office of Department X2. In tho centre sat Dohss, his features pale, his eyes lit with a strange flickering light, his hands clasped; he sat forward in his chair, his chin slightly tilted, as though steeling himself against tho questions to be levelled at him. Seated at their respective desks facing Dohss, were Slade and Clinton; both had notebooks in their hands, and the face of each was grave. By the window lolled De-tective-Inspector Abraham Brawley, smoking a cigarette, his eyes half closed, an elbow resting on the back of a chair. As Brawley felt for his cigarette case Slado motioned to his assistant. "I think wo can take that list as verified now, Clinton. The remaining points wo can check up with Miss Gertz." Tho young man half started to his feet; his cairn was pierced. "So you know—" he began, and floundered to a pause, disconcerted by Slade's level gaze. "You know a lady pamed Miss Peggy Watts, do you not, Mr. Dohss?" "Yes.' "You know her very well, in fact? You have been seeing quite a lot of her?" "She sees a very goot friend of mine, yes," replied the other in thicker tones. "You are in love with her?" "I love her? . . ." Dohss appeared to waver, fighting some inner battle with himself. Finally a little smile flashed across the lower part of his face. "Yes, I love her," ho added very softly. "And if anyone took her away from you what would you do?" "I would kill him 1" he breathed. Slade turned to his desk and picked up a knife which lay on the blottingpad. "This is your knife, Mr. Dohss?" he began again, in a different tone. "Yes."'

"You and I and Farrar, Clinton," he announced, slipping into his coat, "are going round to the New Parthenon straight away. By the time we've finished our examination there Brawley'll have a couple of Flying Squad cars waiting, they'll pick us up, and then we'll tackle this job at Streathain. Nothing come through about Dohss?" Both men shook their heads.

The examination in Eklimakos' office at the New Parthenon took the better part of half-an-hour, but at the end of that time the Yard men had little to show for their Care and pains. At the end of the half-hour Slade intimated to Larkins that he would keep the door of the manager's office 6ealed for another couple of days. Although the producer showed plainly that this secrecy on the part of the police was not reassuring to himself and the company, he accepted the detective's decision,, with good enough grace, and when Slade and his two sergeants left the building he accompanied them to the door. The three Yard men came upon Brawley's party in a small back street which ran parallel with Shaftesbury Avenue. The two cars followed the stream of traffic heading for the Haymarket; they cut across Cockspur Street. At Streatham Hill tho cars branched off along Leigham Court Road and presently came to a halt; a short consultation was held, and it was agreed that a car should approach either end of Lc'gham Avenue. Brawley and the

party in the front car should proceed toward the front of the house, while Slade, his two sergeants, and one of Brawley's men should make their way round to the rear of the house. At a signal from Slade, Brawley would ring at the front door, while Slade's men would attempt to gain an entrance at the back.

"Very good." Slade replaced the knife on his> desk, and then picked up the young man's pocket-book; from this he extracted a visiting card. "You obtained this card at Miss Watts' house, did you not?" " I get that name-card from Miss Watts." The tone was affirmative, but sullen. The pallor of the young man's cheeks had deepened. His face now presented the appearance of a chalk-white mask, lit by two glowing specks. "Now I suggest, Mr. Dohss, that when you took this card from Miss Watts you were angry—" "Angry?" "Yes, angry. You felt suddenly as though you hated the man whose name is on this card, because you thought that ho had stolen Miss Watts from you. And further, I suggest—" The young man interrupted with a short, bitter laugh. "I wanted to kill him—yes."

However, a surprise awaited the Yard men. After Clinton had / opened the front door and admitted Brawley and his men it was discovered that the house was empty. The rooms were bare of furniture, and save for the blinds and curtains, which still remained at the windows, there was nothing to show that the house had not been untenanted for weeks. But the blinds and curtains were comparatively new, and were certainly free of any large quantity of dust.

"Well," said Brawley, coming back into the ground-floor room where Slade was examining the fireplace, "you've certainly got to be given the credit for being prepared for a blank, Tony. No Mannering, no suitcase, no nothing.'' "Yet, I'm positive someone's been in this liiouse not many hours ago, Abe," said Slade. He looked up as Clinton came into the room.

The reply was almost mechanicalsounding. Resentment and ire had faded from the young man's tones. His gaze was fixed, unseeing, and the words came more spontaneously to his lips.

"So yesterday you went to Braith Place"—again the detective tapped the card —"and you saw someone come out of this house, and you followed him here?" "Yes." "Then you followed him back to Braith Place?" "Yes." "You had your knife with youP" "Yes." "You understood yourself to be following the man whose name is on this card"—another tap—"Mr. Mannering?" "Yes." The response was barely audible. For a moment Morrison, the stenographer, looked up, but the next inBtant he was bending over his notebook again, recording Slade's next question. "I suggest that you wore waiting for a moment to attack this man you were following—a moment when the

/'Someone's trying to get into the conservatory, sir. Farrar and another man are covering him." In an instant Slade had switched off the light, and he and the others moved into the hall and quietly groped their way toward the rear of the house. Out of the darkness of the kitchen a hand stretched forth and stopped them. The man was Farrar. "While -the men waited, holding their breath, there came the sound of someone fumbling 3oftly with the door of the pantry, which led off from tho ,rear. Seconds passed, and then a cool breath of night air passed through the kitchen. The pantry door closed quietly . . . the unknown was in the room. . . "Don't ihove a fingerl" called Slade guddenly.' "We have you covered!" At that moment tho rays from four pocket flashlamps leapt across the room, and focused upon the amazed face of Kurt Dohss 1

By LEONARD R. CRIBBLE Author of "* Tha Grand Modem Murder," ** The Gillespie Sulcido Mystery,"' " The Case of the Marsden Rubles."

(COPTRIGBTJ

street would be clear, when you could strike—and the next minute be away." This time there was a pause before the reply came. "No. I was waiting until I could spenk to him alone." "Speak to him?" "But yes." "Then you mean to say that you did not intend to kill him?"

"If he would not promise to let leetle Peggy alone —yes, 1 would kill!" " I see. Well, I take it, then, that you accosted him, and ho seemed surprised. Ho did not know what ycu were talking about. And I suggest that you then became still angrier, becauso you thought he was trying to bluff you, that you clutched him by the shoulder, raised your knife and then buried it —" " Ah 1 no! no!" The cry seemed wrung from Dohss by something more impelling oven than fear " I no stab him 1" " What!" exclaimed Slade. stepping backward. " You did not stab JorsL?" The detective made the words as ominous-sounding as he could. His keen eyes now scrutinised every inch of the man's face. "No . . . zo ozer man —'e stab him!" Slade, his brain whirling, made an effort to keep a grip on the situation. " Where did this third man come from ?" Dohss pushed tho hair back from his forehead. Beads of perspiration moistened his hand. "As I follow into Braith Place I turn tho corner, and am—what you say ?—twenty—thirty yards behind. I make to hurry, and just as I run I see zis ozer man spring from down zo steps of a house. His arm go up—sol" He gestured in imitation of a man gripping a knifo and striking a hard blow in a downward and outward, slanting direction. " You see?" Slade nodded vigorously. Tumult was raging in his mind. Already a dark suspicion was forming and forcing itself to the forefront of his thoughts. " Yes, Go on." " But that is all. I see zat, I hesitate, and zen I hurry back verra queeek." " But you saw the face of the man who struck the blow, didn't you?" " For one leetle minute, and then—" " Well, what did it look like? You remember, don't you?" " Yes. He had a leetle black moustache, and his face it seemed white, but darker at ze chin. I see him strike wiz ze knife in his hand —sha! . . .sol Zen the ozer man turn round a leetle way, and suddenly he—what you say ? crumple up." .

" And this morning you tracked him to his office?" " Yes."

" You still meant to kill him, then?" " if ho did not promise. . . " You were tcjd that he had gone away, and that someone had collected his suitcase, and that this person had taken a taxi to somewhere in Streatham ? You said you were a friend of his from Germany, I believe? A Mr. Stein, I think. Is that the case?" Wonder blended with a strange smile of proved surmise was graven on the other's features for a space of several seconds.

" Yes—that ees right," he said quietly, the smile not entirely gone from his face.

" But how did you learn where to look in Streatham?"

" I ring up Braith Place. Someone answer. A woman I think. She say what I want. I say I want where Mr. Mannering ees. She say she cannot tell me— she no know. But I say yes, he ees in Streatham, but I want to know where. For a minute she no reply, then she say who- am I. I tell her I cannot give my name, but I want to see him about a matter —what you say? —yes, a matter of life and death. I want to warn him, to tell something. . . " And then she gave you that address in Streatham?" " Ja —yes."

"Phe-ewl" Slade looked again in Clinton's direction.

" So Mannering's got a woman to help him. She must have stalled him " —he nodded toward Dohss —" in order to give him a chance to clear out, or to be prepared. 1 ' Slade once more pressed the button on his desk, and shortly after Webb appeared. " Oh, Webb," said Slade, pointing to Dohss, " seo this gentleman downstairs. Mr. Morrison will have a statement for him to sign. That will be all," he added significantly. When Morrison and the constable and his charge had gone, Slade turned to Clinton. " This puzzle seems to me to be, in a way, doubling upon itself. It's as though we've got two thicknesses to see through, and as yet we don't know how thick the first fold is. But I must admit that thero's one possibility that has occurred to me." " Yes, sir?" " And that is," went on the Yard man, "that we're up against someone who has become mentally unbalanced." "Good Lord, sir!" Clinton exclaimed. "Do you mean a madman?" "Not exactly. I rather suspect someone who, having committed one murder safaly, has found it too much for him. Either by brooding upon the crime too long, or else suddenly assailed by a newly-experienced fear, this person feels compelled to rid himself of all who stand in his way. That would explain the attempted murder of Jorst —and Mannering. Fear. Of what exactly I can't say. Possibly of a terrible dread that has filled a temporarily deranged mind. We have known of such cases before. I can call to mind Daniel Stacey, who murdered his wife's brother, and then slew, one after another, the whole of his wife's father's relations."

(To bi continued on Saturday next)