THE BLACKMAIL OF ZERO

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 22933, 11 January 1938, Page 15

THE BLACKMAIL OF ZERO

By JOHN GOODWIN

CHAPTER XXXlX.—(Continued) A cry broke from Cynthia. "Tom! He was ringing me up this morning, when he was cut off—l remember —somebody interrupted him—" "That was when he first got it, no doubt. The news of his wife's death. The Yard knew he was at the Old Bailey; they'd call him up at once . . . hold up, Cynthia!" He caught her by the arm. She was white and swaying. "Tom! Poor Tom—how awful for him! This thing's breaking me—l can't bear it!" "Sit down," he said, gently. "Yes . . . a bad day for Tom Devine; it's going to hit him hard. Why should a woman like that take her own life — if she did? Perhaps she reached the breaking-point. We won't judge her; death levels all judgments." Cynthia did not move. Her face was buried in her hands. When she looked up Vandon was gone. CHAPTER XL. Cynthia disregarded newspaper. She took two steps across to the telephone and switched on the X line to Scotland Yard. "Quick!" she cried, rattling the hook. "X-one!" "Speaking," said Chief Superintendant Byrne's voice. "I was expecting you'd ring." "Is this trueP That Lola Devine is dead?" - "Yes. That's true." "Do you know to whom she owes her death. Because if you don't, listen to me! The man you want is " "If you know that you must be even cleverer than I thought you. Listen to me " Byrne's quiet voice pulled her together. With an effort she controlled herself. "I'm going to give you briefly the facts about Mrs. Devine's death, and you'll see the necessity for silence. Are you listening?" "Yes."

"Mrs. Devine left London yesterday, without informing her husband, who, of course, was busy with the preparations for to-day's trial.. "She went to Eastbourne, a hundred miles out of town, to the Avondale Hotel, a place where nobody knew her. She registered under a false name. She was joined there l&st night by a man who has disappeared, and of whom we have only a vague description on the word of one of the hotel staff. I'm not going into details, but we don't know at present who he is, nor is it known when he left her. "What is certain is that Mrs. Devine was found dead in her bed this morning from, apparently, an overdose of veronal; a dangerous drug that in small doses induces sleep. She had taken a fatal quantity; so much that she must have known it would kill her. Though there is, of course, the possibility it was accidental.

"That was the discovery made at nine this morning. We knew nothing of it here till eleven, when the Eastbourne having established the dead woman's identity and knowing that her husband is engaged in the Steyne trial, rang through direct to me. I sent an officer at once to inform him. He was at the Central Criminal Court, where the trial was just opening. They left together for Eastbourne; Mr. Devine is there now. It is, of course," said Bryne sympathetically, "terribly tragic news for her husband."

"It's appalling," said Cynthia. "Do you believe " She stopped. Byrne carried on: "That there was a side of Mrs. Devine's life of which her husband was, ignorant? That seems obvious, doesn't it? I am not saying, at the moment, what 1 think. I am keeping to the facts as they appear. They will soon be clearer. Wait a moment

. . . hold the line." .There was a pause. "Are you there? I have just heard over the telephone from my colleague, Challoaer, who is at Eastbourne. It may be that Airs. Devine's death was accidental; we are not assuming that she took her own life. And we are not stressing the story of the man who disappeared. Not that I have any doubt myself it is true; but Mr. Devine does not credit it. Ha refuses to believe anything whatever against his wife." "He Mould!" said Cynthia. "But you and I know better. Do you know why I am giving you these facts? I think you do, for you are a very intelligent young woman. You understand that silence is golden. Please keep most strictly to yourself anything that you know against this unhappy woman, the late Mrs. Lola Devine. The tragedy that has just happened gives our case an entirely new turn, and brings the end in sight. I give it another 24 hours at most." "Do you mean that Zero is behind this, too?" "Behind what?" "Lola Devine's death." For a moment the telephone was dumb.

"We must guard," said Byrne, "against setting everything that happens down to Zero's credit. His account is long enough already, and it's due for settlement. Now listen—final instructions —

"Unless I'm wrong you'll get another message from Zpro—the last. And it will be for yourself alone. "Now that message has got to reach me. Pass it through immediately you have it. Leave the rest in my hands. Have you got that?" "Yes."

"That's all, then. You will have clone what none of Zero's victims has ever succeeded in doing—what no one of them hns even dared to attempt. You will have brought him to the bar of that justice which he has defied. Goodnight!" » 1 ■■ , CHAPTER XLI. SYMPATHT Cynthia slept little that night.. In the morning the newspapers published only the most guarded reference to Mrs. Lola Devine's death. The restraining hand of the Yard had intervened, cutting off the fount of news. Whatever facts or suspicions there were damaging to the dead woman's reputation were suppressed. Cynthia had expected that. She knew why the veil was drawn, and she thanked the powers for it. Tom Devine had enough to bear already. Poor Tom! The tears welled in her eyes. All her pity, all her sympathy were for him. For the living, not the dead. It was on htm that the weight of this last tragedy had to fall.

A TALE OF MYSTERY, EXCITEMENT AND ADVENTURE

She was certain it had taken the Yard completely by surprise. Yet,' behind it all, they were moving swiftly, stealthily, inexorably. Somehow she found herself hating the /thought of that. She wished that she had not called Byrne up. Though she longed for justice to be done, she feared it, too. Her mind turned back insistently upon Vandon. If he had stayed a moment longer, she knew that she could hot have kept silence; she would have broken out in a fury of accusation. He had shown —or tried to show—that he knew nothing of it; that the news of Lola's death shocked and horrified him no less than it did herself. Was that true? What was the truth? Tom Devine—

As she reflected a white-hot, searing thought shot through her brain. It was so terrible that she tried to drive it out. It didn't bear dwelling upon. All day .she had no news or sign of Van. He seemed to have faded out of the scheme of things—vanished. Vandon, with his gentle contempt of the police, where was he? And from Byrne, nothing. At 11 o'clock there was a ring at her bell. She opened the door and found Torn Devine on the step. Silently she held out her hand to him as ho stepped in, and he took it. All her heart went out to him. He looked like a man who had passed through the valley of the shadow. She led him through into the sitting room. "You know?" he said, in a voice she hardly recognised. She nodded. There was nothing she could say.

Suddenly Tom Devine dropped into a chair, and, burying his face in his arm, cried like a child.

"Tom, dear!" she said huskily, and laid a hand on his shoulder. She felt him tremble. She felt the effort he made to get control of himself. And in that moment she would have given anything in creation if she could have lightened Tom of hut burden.

He lifted his head and stared in front of him.

"Poor Lola . . . poor little Lola!" he said, under his breath. " I don't know what you've heard . . but these whispers that people are daring to breathe against her—they're lies! you'd never believe them?"

" No Tom ... of course not. Lies!" " She's been worried and nervebroken for days past —wouldn't tell me why. She was sleeping badly. She asked me to let her go right away ... till the trial was over —out of it all. Why, she didn't need to ask . . . I've never refused her anything in my life. I was worried myself, and it reacted on her. She only wanted to be alone." Alone! Tom trusted her. Cynthia knew that. Straight and loyal himself, the dearest fellow living, he had given his life in making her happy; out of pity and kindliness, rather than love. That was Tom's nature. He had never understood her. " Poor little Lola . . . that it should come to this. It was an accident; just a pitiful accident. That wretched stuff that she would take ... to make her sleep ... I can't speak of it. . "Don't! Tom . . . I'm so sorry." She held out both her hands to him. He took them, and suddenly held them so tight that the grip of his fingers numbed them; his hands were feverish and his eyes burning.

He drew a deep breath. "If you knew, he said, " how your sympathy helps me; lifts me out of darkness. You dear, loyal little soul. Sympathy! I couldn't bear it from anyone else, Cynthia. " Life's full of cruelty, isn't it? The best way of living is helping and protecting others; that's the way. You have the gift. I shouldn't bring my grief to you. Tell me about yourself now: how are things with you?" " Better than I deserve.

" Thank God, you're all right, anyway," he said quietly. " Nothing to fear now. Defeated them all . . . and you've got Tony." She drew her hands away suddenly. " Tony!" She saw that he didn't know about Tony. Cynthia smiled, quite without bitterness.

" I've concluded that Tony is rather too young for me. We can all make mistakes.

Devine gasped. "What on earth do you mean? I saw him released ... he was on his way to you. You couldn't turn Tony down!"

"Oh, no? The one thing I could never have done! But I see you don't know, and I think you ought to." She told him, in a few words, what had happened, gravely, but with a gleam of humour in her eyes. It sounded almost funny. But Tom Devine, shocked and appalled, stared at her. "No," she said, " you're right —it wasn't amusing. It was serious. The Anthony Holt business was the worst mess l" ever got into. It might have hurt me badly. Now " "Hurt you? Groat powers! The crooked little beast. You saved him; you made him. I ■" " Forget that, Tom. I was a bad bargain. There's something to be said for Tony. I did my best for Tony . . . because I had a pretty bad conscience myself. A conscience is a stupid thing to have, I congratulate Tony on being without one; it was left out of his make-up; he can't help that. There's a big side to Tony, as well as a small side; he's a genius in his own line. Yesterday I wished him happiness, and 1 meant it. Just as I could wish it to you, Tom ... for I think you've never known it yet. Don't be bitter about Anthony." Devine caught his breath. He looked at her in silence a moment; there was a sad little smile at the corners of his firm mouth. " Men are a poisonous lot. If it wasn't for women like you, Cynthia, the world would go sour and finish. I wish I could toll you what I think of you. . ."

" But, Tom, surety " " Work's good for me; it's the only thing at a time liko this—keeps one from thinking. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you." He took her hands in his. " No, I'm not bitter about Anthony. I'm glad you're quit of him. I warned you against him once, didn't I? I fought for him because I thought he meant so much to you. . There was a long moment's silence. Cynthia's heart was beating violently; with fin effort she kept herself from trembling. Her face was in the shadow, his eyes on hers. Suddenly he turned away. " Good-byte, little friend," • he said softly,' and left her. * When he was gone she thought about Tom—long and deeply. CHAPTER XLII. THE BENDKZVOVS Where was Zero? What was ho doing? Had he defeated Byrne after all? j->he felt very sure that Zero had not shot his last bolt. —twelve o'clock rand' still silence. Vandon seemed to have • vanished from the scene of things. Never before had he left her to herself for eo long. Was it that he no longer dared to come to her house,? Wise of him—not a doubt but Van was wise. No message from Zero would reach her there. Nor would she wait any longer for Byrne, nor call him. The pact had been repellent to her from

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the first. Sho would go her own way; claim her freedom. Cynthia put on her silver fox cloak —it was a bitter day — and left the silent house. It was good to be in the thronged streets again. Newsboys were on the move carrying black-lettered posters: " Steyne Case. Verdict."

She bought a paper. Guilty, of course. Desmond Steyne, 12 years; James Lomax, nine. Justice had been done. What were they after all but swindlers who had spread ruin and disaster? Queer how, remote those first causes seemed to her now. Was it true that Zero was on the side of justice? Cynthia smiled a bittor little smilfe. She had herself to think about now. Sho guessed, too, that wherever she went there would be a watcher.

Cynthia turned into a popular restaurant at the corner of Prince Street. The place was overheated; she left her cloak in tho cloakroom on the side corridor, entered the grillroom, where she ordered a lunch for which she had 110 desire, and read her paper, keeping a watchful eye on the door. There were 50 lunchers around her, and presently an obvious detective drifted in and took a table near tho door. He was obvious because, although sho was by far the prettiest woman ill the room, ho never once seemed to glance her way. A little later, when the young lady in charge of the cloakroom was sitting at the doorway of her sanctuary and gratefully chewing spearmint, for tho restaurant had filled to capacity and business was slack, she glanced up to find what appeared to be a most distinguished-looking gentleman in a grey overcoat addressing her. He had a compelling eye, and he had arrived so quickly and silently that she had failed to notice his approach. Strictly, 110 gentleman had any business there at all, and her first impulse was to freeze liim, but there was something so attractive and come-hither in his eyes that she smiled instead. "Sister," said the stranger, "do you want to earn five pounds in five seconds, quick and easy?" "Oh, yes, sir 1" The man's palm disclosed a bank note with the £5 showing, and an envelope. "Slip that into the pocket of the silver-fox cloak there on peg 21, leaving just the tip visible so that it isn't missed —that's all. Let me see it done." It was done in far less time than he had quoted. The stranger slipped another banknote into her hand.

"Five more for luck! You would know me again wouldn't you?" "Oh, no, sir!"

"You never said a truer word," chuckled Zero to himself as he passed out.

Cynthia saw the little triangular corner of the envelope when she was helped on with her cloak after lunch, but without noticing or heeding it; it was white, not grey. Not until she was nearing the street entrance did she become aware of the faintest, subtle fragrance of wood-violet scent about her, and lier hand, in the pocket of the cloak, suddenly, tightened on the letterAnyone els© would have pulled it out. She did not do that, not even pause to think how it got there; that did not matter. Here it was; Zero had got it past the police guard, as Byrne had foretold he would. Zero laughed at the police; and Cynthia found herself laughing, too. Her heart began to beat fast.

She would read it here and now; get its message, and at once, watcher or no watcher. Whatever it might be it was meant for herself alone.

"My dear Cynthia,-"To-night, at 5, the mystery of Zero, one that has baffled police, public, press —in a word, all the world, will be revealed to you. And to you alone. "The condition is that you burn this message, locking it first in your heart, and that you don't betray this rendezvous of mine by word or act to anyone whatever. In this I trust you. I'm asking you for nothing in return. Though this time it's I who need your help. "I have guarded you from every danger that threatened you; and I know you would never betray me. "Return to your house. Set your watch right by the radio. Leave at two minutes to 5 exactly. Don't loiter, but walk straight down Ebury Street, which is opposite your door. These are your instructions,- they are very simple. Just round the corner of the first turning, at five to the moment, a car will be standing. Number plate X.C.90. You will find me at the wheel. "I| you- don't come, I will accept that decision and take your refusal as final. Any attempt to break the conditions will fail. "But I know that, you will fulfil them, and I know that- you will come. Am I right? Yours, "ZERO." CHAPTER XLHI. SHADOWED Cynthia laughed silently. Her eyes shone. She sat thinking awhile. She memorised the message and crushed it in her hand. "I'll keep those conditions —to the letter," she. said. "I'll be-there, Zero. I do owe you a good deal, don't I? I'll repay it." She glanced round her; the room was empty. Opening her newspaper as a screen she deliberately flipjped the crushed message into the fire, saw it flare and flicker into ash. There was no question of permitting that letter to be read by any eyes but hers. Nor running any risk of it. She had been warned once before acainst the sin of destroying evidence. That mattered less than nothing; she was impenitent, and had no misgivings. Her own plan was made already. It was as simple as the Cipher's, and as direct. She wondered, though there appeared to be 110 one in sight, whether he had seen her drop that message in the fire. Nothing would have surprised her less. Cynthia left the place promptly. The patient detective sitting just by the entrance in the outer lounge with coffee beside him was apparently immersed in a cross-word puzzle; he should have been an expert in them—doubtless was. Passing the cloakroom she turned suddenly through the lunch saloon and made her exit by the back entrance, then through a side turning into the main street again. "I think I've shaken that fellow off," said Cynthia, though she felt no certainty about it. She wanted to be sure. Where should she go? Home? Home was watched, anyway. There were three hours yet until zero time; it would be trying to spend them in the house, waiting. Things had a knack of happening there—more so than anywhere else. She wanted nothing to happen before five. Walking on rapidly, she noticed a shop-front clock marked "Greenwich Time," and set her wrist watch carefully as she went by—that was as good as the radio. Then, coming suddenly to a decision, she looked round for a taxi. There was one sdme way behind her, but engaged; the flag was down. Strange that there is never a cab when one wants it. She hurried on.

immediately the cab overtook her; slowing slightly, the door swung open. "Get in—quick 1" said Vanuon's voice. She was drawn inside, and before she knew it she had flopped into the seat with a bump, and was beside him, the taxi shooting ahead and doubling round the next turning. (To be continued daily)