SCANDAL AT BARONS COURT

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22493, 10 August 1936, Page 17

SCANDAL AT BARONS COURT

By ALAN GREY

CHAPTER XV. —(Continued) Colonel Lane saw Evelyn, her face set and determined, but a little smile of triumph about her lips, drop the last blackened piece of paper to the earth floor, and grind it to dust with her heel. By the time Whaley had recovered himself, the damage was done. Whalev's voice was like ice. "You've overstepped tho mark this time, Miss Eoulkes." But the only answer ho had was a swift, brief smile, and a gleam of triumph in her eyes obvious even in tho light of the torches. CHAPTER XVI. Chief Inspector Martin John Whaley knew there were limits to cross-examin-ing witnesses, and he had pretty well reached them. It was an hour after that grim chase through the woods, and tho amazing scene in the summerhouse. No possible trace could be found of the writing on tho paper that Evelyn Foulkes had destroyed. She had succeeded in her object, and she was satisfied. Throughout the following hour, Whaley had fired question after question at her. He was in a small room on the second floor with Bilson and another plainclothes man, and Agatha Foulkes. From time to time the older woman protested, but Whaley silenced her abruptly. But he knew ho dared not go an} 7 further. Evelyn's eyes were feverishly bright, but tho rest of her faco was absolutely colourless, Her slim body drooped in her chair. Only her eyes revealed the amazing spirit that kept her going. Whaley stopped talking, at last. " All right," ho said to Agatha Foulkes. " Look after her, please. I wish to heaven," he muttered to Bilson, " that we'd a woman agent here. You 'phoned to Gloucester for one, didn't you?" Bilson nodded. " Until she comes," said Whaley, " have a guard at tho window and tho door, and don't let anyone but Miss Agatha go into her room. Have tho door ajar, so that you can hear anything they talk about." " I'll see to it," said Bilson. "You're a tower of strength," said Whaley, with a wan smile. " By the way—we've got some relief men here, - haven't we?" " Yes. They arrived at twelve," said Bilson. " Fine. I'm going to sleep in one of the library chairs, and you'd better come down as soon as you've given instructions." The rest of tho household had been J allowed to go to their rooms, although as Whaley walked along the passages ho saw the yellow light gleaming beneath each door. Very few peoplo at Barons Court would sleep much that night. But Whaley was too experienced an officer to let his caso worry him. True, he had been so near to an explanation on several occasions that tho present blank wall was mortifying. But it was early, yet. It was amazing, in fact, that so much had happened. Things had certainly moved fast. He took off his collar and tie, and unlaced his shoes, tho only preparations ho made for his night's sleep. As he lay back in a leather armchair, his mind played over the events of the day. It was half past one, he knew. Ho had been here just nino hours. And, he thought with a rueful smile, he had circumstantial evidence enough to condemn pretty well every member of tho household. There was no doubt that the most important thing had been the midnight visit of Evelyn Foulkes to the summerhouse. Whaley ground his teeth when ho admitted the probable import of that , visit. The girl must have known the letter she had burned was in the hut, and j had taken tho first opportunity she i had had to go and destroy it. It was ' probable that Howard Lane's attempt | to leave the house had been on tho same mission, and if that fool of a constable had not messed the opportunity up, the letter might have been discovered by the polico. The most mortifying thought was that the letter must have been in tho summerhouse since tho body had been discovered—which meant that Whaley and Bilson had failed to discover it in their search. Obviously, thought Whaley, Evelyn Foulkes would not have gone to the summerhouse to destroy a letter she had had in her possession, she could easily have burned it in the house. She had known it was there—outside. She had been game, Whaley admitted. Even when she had been completely exhausted, the glimmer of triumph had still been in her eyes. She knew she had defeated the police. That letter was burned, and it could never bo replaced. What had it been? The blackmail theory was the one that Whaley believed in. He could not see any other possible theory. It was almost certain, he told himself, that the girl had been blackmailed. Howard Lane had discovered it, and had killed Lester 13 rice. Whalej' shook his head as iie drowsed. It wasn't safe, yet, to assume that either the girl or her fiance had committed the murder, but it was fairly safe to assume one or tho other knew who had. Sir Bertram? The sharptongued Agatha Foulkes? Bilson interrupted Whalev's train of thought at that point, and tho two men made themselves as comfortable as they could and slept soundly for tho next five hours. Whaley awakened with a start, to find himself looking at the big form of Clee vps, tho butler. Cleeves' faco, as usual, was expressionless, but ho was carrying a tray on which woro biscuits and tea.

" That's good of you," said Whaley, rubbing his eyes. " 1 thought it would ho welcome, sir," said Cleevcs, " One of your men said he would like to sco you as soon as you were awake, and 1 thought it best to advise you, sir." Whaley nodded, and wondered whether anything useful had been discovered. He stirred Bilson, who grunted, but woke up quickly. Cleeves made a dignified exit, and Bilson, looking out of tho window, grunted that it was a nico morning. " I hope it's going to be a better morning than it was a night," said Whaley, shivering at his recollection of the evening at Barons Court. " It was the worst I've ever had. Seven apparently respectable people, all lying like troopers." " I never did trust respectable people," said Bilson, finishing his tea. They had a quick wash in a bathroom on the second floor, before going into the grounds. To their surprise. Colonel Lane was already up. Ho looked tired and worn. " I couldn't sleep," ho said, with a weary smile. " Well, I hope you have better luck this morning, Inspector." Whaley nodded, but did not invito the Colo.nel to accompany him. Half way between the house and the hut they found a thick-set man who looked

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'Whaley whistled. "Spent cartridges, eh I" " Yes, sir. I haven't touched them, of course. Thought they might be tested for prints." " Good man," said Whaley. He knew pretty well what had happened. Whoever had shot Lester Brice had afterward turned the empty cartridge cases from the revolver, and in doing so he had possibly left the fingerprints. Whaley was not an expert at the print business, but he bent down, covering the cases with a fine, grey powder. Vague marks showed up. " Something there all right," said Whaley. " Handle them carefully, Bilson, and send 'em by special messenger to Gloucester. By the way, how many prints did you manage to get last night, after all?" Bilson smiled his rather slow smile. " All but Colonel Lane's," he said, " and Agatha Foulkes'. I didn't try much with the Colonel, though." " Are they good ones?" asked Whaley. "They should be," said Bilson. I've got three wine-glasses—Jenny Lea's, Sewell's, and Pauline Vines'. 1 hat was easy, Sir Bertram doesn't leave much about—" "Needn't worry about him," said Whaley, "we've them on that gun 1 had from him." "Anyhow," said Bilson, "he'll miss his cigarette case for a day or two; I borrowed it. Then young Lane nses one of those shiny walking sticks, occasionally, and he handled one last night—which I've borrowed, too. Dawson accepted one of my cigarettes, so his print will bo on my case." Whaley nodded, and grinned as his assistant bent down to retrieve the used cartridges. Sergeant Bilson was an extremely capable man, in every

j way. "And that reminds me," said Whaley, suddenly. "You got Miss Evelyn Foulkes', didn't you?" "On ono of those vanity outfits," said Bilson. "The powder and mirror thingummy." Bilson hurried off with his prize, and Whaley was forced to kick his heels until breakfast which, he imagined, would be about half-past eight. He did J not wander far, although he walked to the summerhouse and gave it another ! cursory examination. Only the charred | ashes of the letter Evelyn Foulkes had | burned was there additional to what he ! had seen on the previous day. j He felt inwardly excited. If the prints l on the cartridges compared with any of I tho others, lie had a fairly good case. ! But he frowned almost before the j thought found expression in his mind. I He had several good cases, already, but ! he wasn't confident of any of them. I Somehow, lie couldn't bring himself to I believe Evelyn Foulkes had murdered j Brice, although she was probably the j most likely suspect. "Oh, damn!" he muttered. "The : morning makes it look messier, instead ! of better." j The sight of Colonel Lane and Sir Bertram moving towards him through the trees made him wrinkle his brow. Sir Bertram looked much better than he had on the previous night, but he greeted tho detective coolly, almost coldly. Whaley was affable. Ho always believed in being good-tempered, and if he sometimes failed to maintain it, it was not through want of trying. "Look here, Whaley," said the Baronet at last. "I've something to show you. But I don't want you to go jumping to conclusions because of it." "[ never jump to conclusions," said Whaley. "All 1 kick at is a lot of cock-and-bull stories—and you'll admit I've had a pretty good load of them, down here." Sir Bertram grunted, and drew a letter from his pocket. "It came by last night's post," he said, " but in the general confusion it I was overlooked. I've only just had it." j "Hmm," said Whaley, stretching out j his hand. ! He actually had .the letter in his I grasp when a shout came from the left of the summerhouse, and a plain-clothes policeman came into sight. The man was running, but stopped short, in some confusion, when lie saw tho three men. "Trouble?" asked Whaley, sharply. The man was within easy speaking distance, but he hesitated as he looked at Sir Bertram and tho Colonel. Lane took the older man's arm, and guided him away, while Whaley hurried to iiis man. Tho other was still looking a little sheepish. "Sorry 1 let out that bellow, sir, but I came on it so suddenly I couldn't help myself." "Came on what?" asked Whaley, grinding his teeth. "The gun, sir," said the policeman. "The gun!" Whaley hurried to the spot, and found the revolver lying in the bushes, not five yards from the summerhouse. He took out a handkerchief and handled the weapon carefully . It looked exactly tho same pattern as the gun Sir Bertram had given him. "Get over to tho house," said Whaley, "and try to catch tho messenger who's going into Gloucester. Bilson will tell you." Tho man saluted and hurried off with the gun. Then, for tho first time Whaley looked at the letter in his hand. AVhen ho first glanced at it he was thinking more of the discovery of the revolver than anything else. Thcj cartridges and the gun itself made ja remarkably good start to the morning's work. He felt in a better humour. Then he stared at tho letter, .especially at the signature, hardly able to believe his eyes. For tho signature was that of Lester Brice. Ho was holding a letter from the dead man in his hand.

CHAPTER XVII. Whaley pulled himself together, and read through tho note, There were only a few linos, written in a firm, round hand on poor quality paper. No attempt, apparently had been made to disguise the handwriting. The letter read: "Dear Sir Bertram: " I am wondering :f you would like to know something concerning a certain Howard Lane, who is shortly to marry your niece. If so, kindly write to 1110 care of Camden High Street G.P.O. Lester Brice." Whaley whistled, and looked up to see Colonel Everad Lane glancing at him questioningly. Tho Coloned looked pale; he was smoking a cigarette and drawing at it more quickly than usual. He was obviously worried. And with good reason. Whaley realised that this letter made a tremendous difference. It was proof, almost beyond contention, that Brice's visit to Barons Court had concerned Howard Lane. Tho detective was more than ordinarily pleased, too, that the letter bore out his earlier suspicions —Brice had been here to blackmail either Howard Lane or the Foulkes. It was more than likely Howard Lane, or Evelyn Foulkes, had received a similar letter to this. Almost beyond doubt, that was the letter Evelyn had destroyed. (To be continued daily)

up quickly nt their approach, and saluted smartly. " 'Morning, Dale," said Whaley. " Found anything?" " I don't know whether it's worth waking you for," said Constable Dale, semi-apologetically, " but I thought you'd better see them pretty quickly." lie led the way to a spot about twenty yards nearer the summerhouse, and pointed to the ground.