THE RAVEN

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22464, 7 July 1936, Page 15

THE RAVEN

By LIONEL HAMILTON

CHAPTER VI. —(Continued)

There was nothing to be got out of Mason, Roger told himself. Ho smiled again.

"1 see. And is Mrs. Devino in town?"

"Not at tlio moment, sir. She is out of England." Roger shrugged his shoulders. It was an impasse. But ho told himself that lie had a great deal more to work on now, than he had had before. Fowler would have jumped for jo.y at getting this information.

Only, he thought grimly. Fowler wasn't going to get it. Until he, Roger, was certain of the part that Anne Devine was playing, he was gomu to act very cautiously, and keep as many socials as he could do himselff. "In that case," said Roger, "I'll write to Mr. Devine. Shall 1 write hero or—?" "Any letters will be forwarded. Mr. irentham." " Snubbed all the way round," thought Roger. Aloud: "Thanks," ho said, walking toward the door. " I—" He broke off suddenly, and swung round. As he did so he caught sight of the gleam of steel in the butler's right hand—the blue-grey steel of an automatic I

For the first time, Mason looked disconcerted. He started to speak, but stopped auicklv. There was fear in his eyes 'as no looked at Trentham—fear inspired by the little gun which had leapt into Roger's hand 1 " There are two things you can remember," snapped Roger. '* One —that I always travel armed. Two —that I'm always followed by one or two policemen. They've got a foolish idea that The Raven might make an attempt on my life. You don't know anything about The Raven, do you, Mason?" The man stammered. His eyes were on Roger's gun. His own was still half in, half out of his pocket. " Let's have that," said Trentham. " Take it by the muzzle —that's right." He kept his own gun close to his waist as Mason handed the other to him. Then lie turned to the door. " You can tell whoever pays you," he said, " that I've my own axe to grind —and that it doesn't always agree with that of the police. Only-—I work with the police enough to make it awkward for you if you try any tricks—especially tricks with Mis» Devine!" Mason said nothing, for the good reason that there was nothing he could say. But his eyes narrowed. " That's all, for now," snapped Roger. "Open the door—and keep it open until I'm half way up the street. Stand on the top step. I shall be looking at you, and if you move, I'll plug you. I've got a big advantage over you, Mason—the law is on my side!" He walked down the steps and along the streets, with a cold feeling at the pit of his stomach. If the man chose to move inside the house, he, Roger, would be an easy victim of a shot from any one of the rooms in the house which overlooked the Terrace. Mason stood there, however. Roger told himself that he had been in danger while he had been inside the house, but that he was safe now that he had reached the street. They would have taken the chance of killing him while he had been inside — but a shot from one of the windows would have caused a sensation —and the end of number 7 King's Terrace for The Raven—or one of his most important associates.

There was a cold glint in the eyes of the butler as he watched Roger Trentham walking toward the end of the road. But there was fear in his eves, too. He knew that he had bungled the job, a job in which he had held all the cards. There was not the slightest excuse for his failure to stop Trentham from leaving the house—but he had failed. Trentham had been too good for him. Mason muttered beneath his breath as he closed the door and hurried into the room where Anne J)evine was still laying back in her chair, unconscious. He looked at lier, with his lips twisted. She would be out for another twenty minutes; it was wiser to get her out of that room, in case someone called. Without an effort, he lifted her from her chair and carried her to her bedroom. Few men could have held that slim beauty in their arms without their pulse quickening, without realising the loveliness of the girl. In different circumstances Mason might have been affected by her. But not then. He laid her on the bed and went out of the room immediately. The only things in his mind were fear and hate. Fear because he had bungled a job for The Raven—and The Raven had short and effective methods with servants who failed him. Hate for the cool, contemptuous eyes of Roger Trentham, for the man who had outwitted him so easily. There was only one way to save his face with The Raven, Mason decided, and that was to make his report immediately. He went into a small room which served as a library, locked the door after him, and lifted a telephone from its stand. A few minutes later he was talking to The Raven. The Raven's voice was cool and lowpitched. " Well, Mason? What is it?" Mason swallowed hard. " About Trentham, sir—"

"You've got him?" There was excitement in The Raven's voice, an excitement which was rare. Mason's face paled. " No," he muttered "He dodged tlio car trick —"

The Raven cursed, softly. " He's got as many lives as a cat, drat him But we'll get him before long. How did you know about the failure?"

" There was a crash at the end of the road, sir—" " You mean King's Terrace?"

Yes -'! The silence which followed was tense, electric. " So he was there, was ho? Ho camo to the house?" " Yes —asking for Mr. Devine." " Who saw him?" " Miss Devine, sir. I—is it safe to talk over the telephone, sir?" "Yes," snapped The Haven. "The line's not tapped. If and when it is, I'll warn you. What happened?" The butler told him. quickly. Ho stressed the way in which Anno Do vino had taken the question of the Cat and Fiddle, as ho stressed Trentham's obvious doubt as to tho genuineness of her " heart attack." " I'd have stopped him from leaving the house," the man added quickly, " but I thought he might be followed." The Raven's reply came quickly, and Mason breathed freely for the first time since Trentham had departed. "Jt wasn't safe to keep him at King's Terrace," snapped The Haven. " But it's not safe to keep him alive much longer. We've got to get him." Mason said nothing. He told himself that The Haven was worried. It was rare that the Boss did anything but give briefly-worded orders; never before had he discussed the situation with Mason " There Mnight he a way of getting him." muttered The Haven, after a pause, " through the girl. But it's dangerous. We'll try him through his flat, Mason." . " What are the orders, sir?" " Just get him." snapped the Haven, and there was a steeliness in his voice which had been absent before. " Don't go yourself, but send one or two of the others to wait near his Hat. You know the address?" " Yes. sir. Victoria—" " That's enough." said Tho Haven. The wire went dead. Mason, smiling twistedly, unlocked tho door of tho library and hurried toward tho servants' quarters. Three men were lounging in the kitchen, men who might, for all appearances, have been actually servants to Mr. Samuel Devine, for tliey were dressed quietly but well, and

AN ABSORBING TALE OF CRIME, MYSTERY AND ROMANCE

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wore quietly spoken and neatly groomed. A keen student of men might nave thought that their eyes were hard —there was a glint in them which suggested coldness, ruthlessness. They were, Mason knew, killers of the worst typo. They killed to order, and for payment. At the present moment they were working for The Haven, and they would obey his instructions to the letter, provided he paid tlieni well. 4>iason passed on The .Raven's orders. " lwo of you," he said, " and don't ,"t —The Haven wants him cold."

One of the gunmen grinned and patted a bulgo in his trousers pocket. "He'll he as cold as the steel," he boasted. "Let's see—a mansion Hat. Maybe it'll bo safer to get him in the street. Takes a helluva time to get out of these buildings once you're in." A second man grunted. "That's all right," he said. "1 know Trentham to look at. Ready?" The two men stood up, and left 7 King's Terrace, by the servants' entrance. From the kitchen window, Mason watched them go. He had one regret. Trentham was going to be rubbed out, and he, Mason, would have liked to have fired the first shot. But he was safer where he was. * * * * * Trentham was in two minds whether to report to Scotland Yard on the affair at King's Terrace. Ho admitted to himself that ho should make the report. The fact that he was, admittedly, interested in Anne Devine should have made no difference. But the fact remained that it did. A dozen times as he walked from the house towards Piccadilly, he reminded himself of her profile, a profile which had fascinated him from the moment that lie had seen her. And she was beautiful. What was more, he told himself, she was in trouble.

Trentham shrugged his shoulders. Fowler and Benson were paid for their jobs, and they had no personal interests. It mattered nothing to them whether the girl suffered, provided they were able to catch The Raven. He, Trentham, had no objection to helping them where he could; in fact he was as keen to catch The Raven as they were themselves. But if it was possible, he would keep Anne Devine's name out of it.

Not for the first time, he wondered whether old Midas Lee had known anything of her troubles. Lee might have discovered that her father was playing a crooked game, and out of that perverse humour which had apparently characterised his last years, deliberately planned to send his nephew into the web of intrigue in which Anne Devine was already enmeshed. Certainly, Roger thought, Midas Lee had made a shrewd estimate of the effect of the girl on him. ,It was a fine day, with a crispness in the air which encouraged walking. Roger Trentham turned away from Scotland Yard, and strode towards Victoria. As he did so, a well-dressed man with hard grey eyes followed him. The man kept his distance, and not for a moment did Trentham suspect that he was being followed. A few yards behind the trailer was a taxi, with its flag down. A dozen pedestrians wondered at the crawling taxi, but the driver was staring ahead of him, oblivious to unspoken comment. Trentham turned into Dane Street, at the far end of which was the block of mansions in which he had his Hat. He was still completely unaware of the man behind him, and the crawling taxi. Then, for the first time, the taxi'*, speed increased. Koger heard the sudden hum of its engine, and looked round. For a split-second he stared, wondering what was wrong. Then he realised that there was no number plate on the front of the cab I

A warning flared up inside hull. He looked up and down the street, quickly. There were half a "dozen people, including a tradesman hurrying from the Mansions to his van. There was, too, a well-dressed man approaching - the Mansions, and the thing about him which added flames to the warning in Roger's mind, was the fact that his right hand was in his trousers pocket. The man's hand moved —

Roger Trentham knew that he was very close to death in that moment, but he knew, too, that if he could get through the next thirty seconds he would be all right. He leapt for the small coping which ran round the Mansions. At the same time the welldressed man shot at him.

There was no sound, but the yellow stab of flame which came from the man's gun told its own tale. A bullet bit into the pavement, a foot from Trentham's feet. A second tore through his coat as he vaulted the coping, a third whined over his head as he flung himself to the ground. He could see nothing; fear, greater than he had ever experienced before, filled his mind. It seemed that he was poised on the very brink of eternity! Seconds passed like minutes. He heard a bellow of alarm from someone in the street, the humming of the taxi's engine, the thud of running feet. Twice bullets spat past him; but for the protection of the coping, ho must have been struck. What was happening? How much longer must he stay-' A second voice was raised, and the hum of a different engine came to his ears. There was a shout of "stop them!"

Trentham straightened up, looking round. Ho saw the taxi, at the far end of the street, with the gunman on the running board. After it the tradesman's van was racing. The gunman raised his hand. Trentham felt the horror of that moment more keenly even than when he had been under fire himself. He saw the flash of yellow, and then there came a loud report, and the tradesman's van slewed over to one side, its nearside front tyre flattening. Jt quivered to a standstill.

"Thank heavens for that I" Roger muttered.

He raced towards the van, hearing the voice of the driver before he reached it. In spite of himself he grinned. The man was swearing, angrily, and: "I'd 'a got him, 1 reckon, if that hadn't happened. 1—" Trenthain saw him, a burly, redfaced Corkney talking to a pale-faced van-boy. "1 think it's just as well that you didn't get any closer," said Roger, with a forced smile. "You can buy a new tyre, but you can't buv a new lease of life." The Cockney stared at him.

"Crikey!" ho muttered. "You was the guy that hopped over them rails, weren't you, Mister? Smartest job o' work 1 seen fer a long time. Hany damage?" "Nothing to worry about," said Roger, glancing at the jagged hole in his coat sleevo. The Cockney's e3*es widened.

"Close to a Blighty one," he grinned. "Didn't notice the number, did ycr?" It hadn't got one," said Koger hricll v.

As he spoke, half a dozen pedestrians reached the van. Trenthain was anxious not to figure in another street "accident'' scene, and lie saw the helmeted figure of a policeman approaching. He slipped into the crowd, quickly, taking them by surprise. Hurrying towards the main road, ho sprinted after a hus going in the Westminster direction, and boarded it. Within three minutes of the disappearance of the taxi, the would-have-heen victim was out of sight, and the policeman was annoyed, in spite of his pleasure at having a shooting affray to include in his report that day. Daily reports were apt to bo dull, and an occasional gift from the gods was more than welcome. (To be continued daily)