WEB CENTRE

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

WEB CENTRE

(COPYRIGHT)

By RALPH TREVOR Author of " Death In tho Stalls,** "The Eyes Through the Mask," etc., etc.

AN ENTHRALLING STORY OF MYSTERY, LOVE AND ADVENTURE

CHAPTER XlV.—(Continued) Peter was climbing back again into his driving seat. " Well, of all the. ..." " Half a mo', sir, you can't go just yet. May 1 see your licenco, sir?" The sergeant was standing beside the half-closed door, and had produced a torch.

Peter nearly forgot he was a gentleman, but recovered himself quickly. He had no desire to fall foul of the police again that night. Besides, neither had he any intention of giving them a chance to snoop around The Cottage.

Ho fumbled into his pocket and produced a rcd-backed document.

" Hero wo are," he said, with forced gaiety. " I'm not concealing the Crown Jewels or tho House of Commons mace. And I don't think you'll find any dope, or even an escaped criminal lurking under the seat."

Tho sergeant perused the licence and then demanded his insurance certificate. Peter complied with the request, at the same time noting that the constable was now on tho near side of the car, and that ho was rummaging among the luggage in the rear compartment.

" This your personal luggage, sir?" he inquired. " Not all," answered Peter truthfully. " Some of it belongs to a lady. I'm taking it down for her. Sort of brotherly good turn." .

Tho man seemed satisfied and Peter heard the door click into position again. The sergeant, satisfied with tho identification material ho had been noting, handed the documents back again to Peter.

" Thank you, sir," ho remarked. " Sorry to have interrupted your night ride, but orders aro orders, and we don't like standing here any more than you like being delayed. Oh, and if I might give you a word of advice, sir, there's a graveyard about a mile further along. You might be interested. Good-night, sir 1"

"Thanks," murmured Peter. "I'm not past taking a hint. I suppose I was going just a little merrily." Tho soft purr of the engine became a roar again as Peter revved it \ip and slipped in his gear. A moment later

tho great car was once more on its way, but Peter frowned as he noted that the delay had cost him fifteen valuable minutes.

Ho slowed down on reaching tho village, and halted the car outside Jimmie Dawson's garage and filling-station. There was one thing about Jimmie Dawson, ho never cared what time Peter Worthing put in an appearance, and to save tho trouble of getting out of bed at all hours of the morning he had presented Peter with a pass-key to the garage.

That took another ten minutes before the car was safely stowed away and the garage locked up again. Peter made his way cautiously across the short field path that gave him quick access to Tho Cottage from the village Ho walked silently, pausing at frequent intervals to see if he could detect any unusual sounds. But the night was as quiet as the graveyard mentioned by the sergeant. The worJd seemed curiously at rest. Only the faint whispering of the wind in the beeches disturbed the rural serenity and the quiet magic of the star-hung night. For the first timo for many hours Peter smiled at his wild fears. Coming within sight of tho cottage, ho paused again. All was quiet. A rustlo in some adjacent bushes bristled his nerves. The next minute a weasel darted almost under his feet.

Quietly he unlatched the gate and crept up tho crazy-flagged pathway. He glanced up at the windows. Tho one over tho rose-arched doorway was the one he had given over to Maryon. Peter sighed as contentedly as any Romeo gazing on tho window of his Juliet's bedchamber. He extracted his key from the bunch that dangled from his key-chain; then he paused. He would take a look around the garden, just to make sure and to allay his fears. Cautiously ho tiptoed around the familiar angle of the cottage until ho was level with the window of tho lounge. Then ho stood almost frozen with terror. The windows were wide open; tho curtains had been thrust aside.

Swiftly he pulled the torch from his pocket that ho had brought with him from tho car. In the other hand he gripped his revolver. The whito halo from the torch revealed tho gaping wound in the glass, and reflected on tho shattered fragments that lay strewn at his feet. His heart seemed to havo stopped beating. If only tho night had not boon so quiet ... if only. . . . Poter crept into the room and flung the light from his torch into every corner. Ho snw the divan straddled across the angle of the chimney breast. But no one was behind it.

With a leap he had gained the hall and flung himself up tho stairs. Wildly he crashed open the door of Maryon's bedroom. It was empty. So was the one he had allotted to Badger. Peter sat down on the edge of Badger's immaculate bed, and realised that the moisture on his face was not sweat, but tears.

CHAPTER XV. Dejectedly Peter Worthing crawled slowly downstairs again. His world seemed to have tumbled about his ears. Yet there was a grim line about his mouth that betokened not only determination but also revenge. If anything should have happened to Maryon

. . . the young man's hands clenched savagely, and anyone encountering him at that moment would have decided that he looked in a patently ugly mood.

The first shock of finding the cottage empty had begun to wear off. His brain began to function logically. The sequence of events during this devastating night were arrayed plainly before him. Vorsada had, apparently, won the first round. Peter turned at the foot of the stairs to enter tho lounge, and his fingers instinctively sought tho electric switch on the wall just inside tho door, and ho discovered that it was already in tho " on" position. He brought his torch into play to verify the sense that he kept in his fingers. There it was definitely as his fingers had found it; but no light glowed from the lamp abovo. He moved back a pace into the hall and elicited a similar response from the switch there. That decided Peter that it coidd not be that anything had happened to the lamp itself. Something had happened to the generating plant. This was a complication which he had not anticipated. Usually tho equipment was remarkably reliable. It had certainly been in excellent working order last night. Peter decided that ho ought to investigate. Still cautious, he made his way to tho old cast-house and opened the door. Usually, when the door was open, you could hear the soft whine of the generator supplemented by the 'plop-plop' of tho small petrol motor that provided tho power. The silence that met him was eerie. In the light of the torch he examined tho petrol motor and noticed immediately that the insulated lead to ono of tbe plugs had been severed. He examined it carefully. That it had been deliberately cut with a sharp knife he had no doubt whatever. In a few moments he had repaired the damage by fitting a spare. A twist of the flywheel handle and the engine plopped into life, and going to the door he noted that the light in the lounge was burning again. An almost imperceptible noise overhead caused him to pause for a moment

and switch on the pilot light that illuminated tho motor and generator. It was a low powered blue-faced bulb, but sufficiently strong to enable him to see tho interior of tbe lower floor of the cast-house clearly.

An expression of surprise left his lips as he noticed that the ladder leading to the trap in the ceiling was missing, and that the trap itself was securely closed. Ho looked around for some sign of tho ladder, but found none. " Looks to me as if someone's hidup alolt," he told himself. " Now I wonder. ..."

Peter's eyes were rivetted on the trap door in tho wooden planking above his head. Slowly one edge of it was being raised. Tho young man watched fascinated. Whoever was behind that trap door was taking no chances, for with the aperture wide enough to seo who was below, the trap ceased to move. For a moment it remained stationary, then it opened wide, and Peter caught a glimpse of Badger's face, white but triumphant. Tho young man was about to utter an exclamation of joy, but Badger put his fingers to lips, counselling caution. " I'll bo with you in a jitfy, sir," he told Peter, in a whisper. During the moments of waiting while Badger carefully, and with a remarkable absence of noise, lowered the narrow wooden ladder, Peter could scarcely restrain himself. He knew thab Badger would not bo hiding up there without some good purpose. In a moment Badger was beside him. Is Maryon all right?" asked Peter, gripping tho man's arm with trembling fingers. " Asleep," replied Badger, quietly, " and if 1 were you, sir, I wouldn't disturb her. Sbo's quite comfortable. You seo I managed to drag along a few rugs and things, and I expect she'll sleep till the morning. That girl's got guts, sir." Peter wanted to ply Badger with a fusilade of questions. What had happened? How had they managed to leave the house and reach such an unsuspecting refuge? But Badger appeared to feci tho necessity for continued caution.

" I don't think those swine will bo coming back aftor the reception I gave them, sir," he announced, " but we can't ho too careful. And more than that, I don't feel like leaving the young lady. I sec you've fixed up the light again, sir," ho added. "It was hearing someone prowling around below that wakened me up. You'd never make a successful burglar, if you will pardon my saying so." Peter laughed. " You're a brick, Badger. And all the time I've been plagued with the most disturbing thoughts. I had visions of finding your dead body somowhore about the place, and as for Miss Maryon . . . well I had a shrewd idea what might have happened to her. You must 001 lme how it. all began." The excitement Peter felt was vibrating in his voice.

" If you aro thinking of going back to tho house, sir. I'd rather I stayed here. I'm not leaving tho young lady, alone."

" Quito right, Badger. Quite right. That's tho spirit. But just wait here a moment while I step across to the house." Peter returned a moment later with a decanter, a syphon of sodawater, and two glasses. (To be continned daily)