The House Of Whispers

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22402, 24 April 1936, Page 12 (Supplement)

The House Of Whispers

By JOHN HUNTER Author of " When the Gunmen Came," " Buccaneer's Gold," " Dead Man a Gate, etc.

(Copyright)

CHAPTER Vl.—(Continued) The Special Branch inan lit a cigarette slowly and whisked tho match to extinction. "It wasn't my pidgin, of course, but it seemed to me that there were a number of people in the steal. The details of it don't matter. Ultimately Fragart fixed on a young Englishman who had a good job with the bank. His name was Sanders, Jeffery Sanders. Ho was sentenced to four years." The Special Branch man looked round. "Now I always read tho I arisian newspapers each day. I saw that a day or two ago Sanders escaped from prison. *AII this, I realise, must appear uninteresting to you—save for the fact that my memory got working, as I say. They're looking for Sanders, and, so far, they claim to have pinned him into the Orleans-Blois district. They say they'll take him any time. But this is "I, myself, was never quite convinced of Sander' guilt. I never saw clearly the actual train of reasoning which led to his conviction. Ho himself constantly proclaimed throughout his trial that he was innocent, and into the bargain he constantly asserted that he had been victimised by a very pleasant Englishman with whom he had becomo friendly." , , There was a short silence. lnat Englishman's name was Paul Barclay. Another curious thing. Barclay's manservant was Walter Kimber the man

Needless to say there was more outcry. That the same gang had performed the painful operation of relieving the rightful owners of their valuable property nobody doubted. 'lho whole expedition bore the same hall mark of tremendous and infallible efficiency. That day Lillian lunched with JetF. She had not had the heart to refuse his request; she met him by appointment, and went with him to a quiet restaurant behind Piccadilly. "You know," he said, when the meal was served, "I can hardly believe it. It seems only an hour ago that I was sort of waiting on your favour, and you were being so kind to me. And now, here wo are under much happier circumstances, and —" She laughed. He was, she realised, stumbling into a morass of implied compliment and expressed gladness. He looked, she thought, very different from the unshaven tatterdemalion who had invaded her compartment. In his way he was good-looking; certainly strong, manly, confident. Ho wore his clothes with careless ease. He was the sort of fellow a strong, healthy sporting girl would love to have as companion on long country rambles. Ho was tweedy ana pipey—nice — They chatted over the meal, and, with coffee on tho table, and a brandy for Jeff, Lillian looked serious. "I wanted to have a talk with you." she said. "And I'm going to start by

who is now his butler. Barclay had a service flat just off the Place des Ternes. He was questioned by Fragart, but he had a perfect answer to all the questions. He was even able to make it look as though Sanders was lying about him, and that weighed against Sanders. Indeed, I always thought that Barclay's ability to prove Sanders a liar biassed the court against the prisoner. They're emotional, those people. Ihey , a il°} v crimes passionels to go unpunished. Here was an arrested man trying to put an apparently innocent man into the dock in his place, and so on. Well, that's it. Sanders lias nothing to do with us, but what might be significant in a discussion where every littje point counts, ii that Barclay was undoubtedly mixed up in a bank steal 12 or so months ago in Paris —and Kimber with him. I give it for what it's worth.' It was apparently worth little, for after a short further discussion, tho meeting broke up. CHAPTER VII. The next morning the newspapers reported sensation. There had been, the previous night, what had now become one of the notoriously frequent and successful raids on country houses —fast cars carrying daring men careering from London into the heart of the country; a plundered mansion, loot carried off . . . and all within a few hours and no trace of the bandits. Save that in this instance they left death behind them. The second chauffeur to the old and famous family owning the mansion had committed a peccadillo. He had taken out a small car for his own use and had stolen back with it very late. At least, that was the accepted theory, and'its accuracy could not, and never has been, denied. He must have encountered tho gang, for he was found bludgeoned to death outside the French window through which tho ruffians had made their entry. He had died without sound. The first blow must have stunned him; but others were added to silence him for ever. The loot was varied. It consisted of a collection of jewels, old in the family, and worth about fifteen thousand pounds; two fur coats, one valued at a thousand guineas, the other at seven hundred; and a Franz Hals, which had been cut from its frame. The picture was not one of the greatest works of the famous painter of "Tho Laughing Cavalier," but it was unique in various technical aspects which need not be described, and was of considerable value.

asking you a question. That address you sent me. Are you lodging there?" "Why, no. It's my home. My aunt's place. She's a real sportsman. She brought me up from the age of 14, Why do you ask?" "I see," said Lillian, and reflected for a moment. "Perhaps this is going to be painful, but I've got to say it. You remember I'd just come from France, on the very day 1 met you. You remember I was sufficiently well acquainted with France to recognise that your boots were from that country." "Ye—s." He spoke slowly, watching her carefully. She said. "Naturally, I read most of the French newspapers." "Oh!" He twiddled his brandy glass round between his finger and thumb; then added: "I forgot that possibility." "When you were foolish enough to give mc your real name, you mean?" she suggested. Ho nodded. "I ought not to have done it. Of course, I know, now, that you know all about it. You knew about it in tho train. Why did you help me ?" "Why not?" she smiled; and said, very frankly: "I like you. I liked you immediately. And it's not my business to ... to recapture escaped convicts. But you're being silly; and just because you're being silly I believe in you the more. If the French police communicate with the British police, the first place of inquiry will be your home. L know enough of affairs to realiso that; and you should, too." She felt immeasurably older than he —motherly, in fact. He was such a blunderer. She could imagine that in the perilous hours of his escape, when nction and decision were needed, he had been confident, dangerous, resourceful; but directly he was enwrapt in the silken folds of a civilised community, directly he was no longer openly hunted, ho became childlike in his faith in his immunity. "I say I I mustn't let Aunt Sarah into itl" ho exclaimed. "They'd pinch her for harbouring, or something, wouldn't they ?" Lillian laughed. "1 don't know, I'm sure. 1 suppose they might. But they'd pinch you, as you put it, for certain, and back you'd go." "Good Lord!" His eyes hardened. "I'll be oft to-night. I'll let you know where I am. May I?" "]'d like you to. But why are you here? What are you going to do?"

AN EXCITING STORY, PACKED WITH THRILLS AND MYSTERY

Ho hesitated. 110 asked himself how ho might ever ho able to tell her that ho had come to England with the express and dangerous intention of forcing Paul Barclay to confess his guilt. ]u any event it would be foolish. "I just bolted," he said vaguely. "And they'll never catch me." Lillian did not believe him. He had spoken without conviction. She realised ho did not wish to givo his reasons, so sho did not push the point, and remained silent. He went on: "I'll duck into hiding in London, and post my address. Middle of London, somewhere. Fancy Aunt Sarah in it! Not for anything in the world." He broke off, staring past Lillian toward a table some distance away. "What's the matter ?" sho asked. He said quietly: "If you look in the mirror behind mo, you'll see a, fellow watching us. He hasn't long come in. I stopped him from committing murder in the last two or three days. Taking a gun to n. chap named Brendon in Pimlico." Swift memory flashed in Jolt's eyes. "By jove, but you know Brendon, don't you?" Lillian had cast a swift look across Jeff's shoulder to tho mirror behind him, and had seen the reflection of the man he discussed. He was sitting back in his chair pretending to read the lunch edition of an evening newspaper, but now and again his eyes lifted past the edge of the paper and fixed themselves on Jelf and herself. He was a lithe and cat-like creature, slightly overdressed, with a length of silken handkerchief flowing from his coat sleeve, and a large signet ring on one of his fingers. "You know Brendon, don't you' Jeff repeated the question, and Lillian returned to the discussion. "I was watching that man," she explained. "Do tell me about it." Jeff rapidly sketched the adventure ho had had outside Mr. Perceval Brendon's house, and added: "The curious thing about it was that Brendon yelled out when he saw my face —as though ho recognised me, or something. Silly, of course. I was probably excited and imagining things. What is Brendon?" "Why do you say 1 know him?" smiled Lillian. Jeff flushed. "Well, really, I couldn't help it. It was when you dropped your hand-bag in the train, and I helped you to pick the things up. His card had fallen out. It was impossible for me to avoid reading the words on it. You know how it is. You register them in a flash, whether you want to or not. I'm awfully sorry."

"Why?" laughed Lillian. "You couldn't help it. As a matter of fact, I got that card through Monsieur Defame, in France. Brendon's connected with my undo in some way or other. I'm a bit hazy about it myself. But Monsieur Defrage said he might find me employment if my uncle were away. I'd really forgotten the thing. I should think I have it here. I don't need it now. I'll tear it up." She opened her hand-bag and fumbled in it. "Oh, I know. I've left it in my other bag," she said. "And now what about this gentleman who's watching us?" "Let him watch," said Jeff calmly. "We'll go when we're ready. I've socked him once, and I'd sock him again with the greatest of pleasure." Lillian 01150 more glanced at the mirror. "Mr. Sanders . . she began quietly. He interjected: "I told you once that nil my friends call me Jeff. It sounds far better." His eyes were a little imploring, she thought. "All right, Jeff." "And can I call you Lillian? I told you it was a nice name, didn't I?" "Yes, I remember how extremely unoriginal you were. All right again." She spoke very calmly and carelessly, but under his gaze, she knew that a little flush crept from her throat to her cheeks. Joff thought she looked miraculously adorable, and he breathed: "Lillian." He added: "Wonderful." There was a short silence; then Lillian spoke with a sort of desperation. "I was going to give you more good advice. You've told me how you knocked this man and his companion about the other night, and then bolted. Do you think it would be possible that one or both of them followed you—and have followed you over since?" , "I say!" Lillian nodded. "I've been reading shockers," she explained, "and I know nil the technique. It would be easy for two of them to observe you, taking turn about. And if they know where you live, and if they happen to realise your identity, their revenge would bo easy, wouldn't it?" Jeff whistled softly. "That's cute, anyhow.. Shall we duck for it?" "No. It wouldn't be any good. You left your hat in the cloak-room, didn't you? Splendid. That means you can walk away from this table without appearing to be leaving. Seem to make some excuse for me. Uo, get your hat, and bolt for home. Tell your aunt all about it in just about two minutes, and then go into liilding and write me. Your aunt can post anything on that you want. I'll sit hero and settle the bill in duo course. This man is auro to think you'll come back." "But I can't let you—" began Jeff. "Don't be absurd," she said severely. "Don't you realise tho danger you're in? If that man knows who you are ho lias only to call tho first policeman ho sees 011 the pavement, outside, and back you go to —er —France." "I see." Jeff looked gloomy—dogged. "All right. You're marvellous, aren't you ?" . , . "No, ]ust using a woman s plain common sense. Now off you go. Pretend to be excusing yourself. You're not saying good-hye. Be casual." Jeff got up. Lillian had to admit that he was quite good when ho took his departure. She smiled, and nodded, and sat back, smoking slowly. Tho man remained at the other table. (To be continued daily)