THE CRIMSON CLOAK

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXVI, Issue 23400, 17 July 1939, Page 5

THE CRIMSON CLOAK

By J. R. WILMOT Author of "Night Tide," "Death jn the Stalls," etc.

CHAJ'TKK IX. —(Continued) The stall' at Stanford hon so wen appraised early of "the inastu'V re turn, and there was the usual a spec of conscientious labour in, progress who Mannisher's car came to rest in from of the v door. Jellicon, Mannishcr'i factotum, opened the door of the cai and bowed his master out. That was tin sort of thing Mannisher liked. Servih efficiency. It wis nearing midday am Mannisher inquired about his correspon deuce. "It is all in your study, sir," in formed Jellicon. He was going to tel his master about finding a red cloali there, too, but even Jellicon's natura fertility of invention failed him wlicr he endeavoured to find the best waj of introducing the subject. He hac long ago decided that the best thiiijj was to permit Mannisher to make lib own discoveries and then if there was any explaining to be done .Squire Mannisher, having beer helped off with his neat black overcoat, proceeded to his study. The curtains had been drawn, and the long windows afforded him a particularly pleasant view of the garden bathed in September sunshine. That was one of the reasons why he bad chosen this particular room as his study. Mannisher' liked brightness about him, probably because it compensated somewhat for the dull places in his own life. Ho stood for a moment admiring the view across the room. The intentness of his gaze might easily have suggested that Squire Mannisher had been absent from Stanford House for a long time. Actually ho had been absent for three days only. But it was always like this. He was always glad to be back home again. He turned his gaze away from the window and took a step or two toward the desk. Then he halted . . . suddenly. Halted so suddenly that a man might have stood before him levelling a gun., A shaft of sunlight from an angled window was slanting across tho room like a golden arrow. But it was not the golden arrow that arrested his attention. It was the scarlet cloak draped across the back of tho chair close beside the bureau and which seemed to be pierced by the arrow that held his astonished interest. Slowly he made his way toward the chair and gingerly lifted the cloak. The touch of it awakened memories in Squire Mannisher's brain . . . memories of so long ago that he had almost forgotten. There were the three of them as children, Muriel, Give and himself, all dressed in those absurd red cloaks as if they had been infant members of a grim secret society. Nearly fifty years ago! That's how long it would he. And since that day until now, the idea of a crimson cloak had never occurred to his mind. Mannisher stepped to one side and pressed the electric buzzer for Jellicon, "Where did this thing come from, Jellicon?" Mannisher demanded, holding the cloak at arm's length. Jellicon hesitated. "I'm afraid I don't know, sir." "It certainly wasn't here throe days ago," his employer reminded him, "and you have been in charge of the house. Have you inquired among the maids, for it appears to bo a feminine garment?" Jellicon nodded. "I did make such an inquiry, sir, but no one possesses such an article. I thought tliat perhaps . . ." the factotum hesitated. Squire .Mannisher was in danger of losing his temper. "I suppose you thought I'd suddenly acquired the habit of "going out in fancy' dress. Is that what you thought, Jellicon?" "Certainly not, sir. I am at a loss to account for it. It was certainly not here yesterday. I saw it only this morning when I brought in the letters." There was a deep furrow on Mannishers' brow. This was a puzzle that needed serious thought. He dismissed the servant and turned to the bureau on which the correspondence was stacked neatly. His thought was of the rope of pearls wliicli he treasured so highly. Had it not been for that disconcerting cloak he would never probably have given them a single thought because lie had always believed that they were immune from theft. Even now as his hands reached out for their place_ of concealment, there was no suspicion in his mind. All he wanted to do was to make sure in view of the inexplicable business about the cloak. Once again the pillar twisted itself into the bureau top until its upper portion brought the end of it into sight. Squire Mannisher leaned across the bureau and gazed into the cavity. For a moment he was frozen into immobility. The pillar was empty. The pearls . . . the. pearls that were supposed to bo immune from theft were stolen. Mannisher realised, however, that ho would gain nothing by losing either his head or his temper. He was confident of one thing. No one in his establishment knew of the hiding-place. They might have guessed that they were bidden in the bureau, but no one knew about the secret of the twisted pillar. Yet, he reminded himself, someone must have known. Had the contents of the bureau been rifled Jellicon would have been almost certain to have mentioned it. He screwed the pillar into position oneo more and dropped, more heavily than usual, into the chair in front of the bureau. The neat piles of correspondence interested him not at all. There was something about this matter that he did not understand, jt savoured of tho supernatural. His hand reached out for the. buzzer bell again, but he stayed his fingers in the act of depressing it. Ho had been about to inquire from Jellicon whether any attempt had been made to break into the house during his absence, but he refrained from that course —firstly, because Jellicon would have mentioned it immediately; and, secondly, beeauso lie was not at all sure that it would be expedient to mention the theft immediately. If it had not been for that crimson cloak it would have boon different . . . Squire Mannisher made up bis mind quickly. He rang for tho car and instructed his chauffeur to drive over to Leverton Grange just as quickly as the law of the land entitled him to do. There wore one or two things he wanted to ask Muriel about tho theft of tho Leverton Diamond. An hour later he was greeting Muriel Leverton and Gervaisc, both or whom appeared considerably surprised to see hini since Squire was not a frequent visitor. "I read about the robbery," he explained. b.v way of preamble, " and thought I'd like a little talk with both of you. I suppose there is somewhere wo can talk without any policemen poking their noses in?" Gervaisc lifted his eyebrows and looked at his wife. "Why, of course, Squire! There's my room," Muriel Leverton suggested, intrigued at her brother',s unexpected appearance. Suiting the action to the suggestion, Muriel Leverton led the way. When the door was closed and Squire had accepted a cigarette from Gervaise's case, he listened while Muriel .gave--him<-»-'preds of-oyents^-JVhen.ehai

( COPYRIGHT)

A gaily-coloured gilken garment made the sort of clue no one could misa, but it led to amazing adventure and mystery.

had finished he surprised her by asking: "And wasn't a red cloak left behind by any chance?" Muriel Leverton's face went appret cijtbly paler. Gervaisc was frowning. ! Of rill the questions they had expected Squire to ask. tliis was undoubtedly ' the one they had not expected. ' "My dear," answered Mrs. Lcver- ' ton, "what makes yon think such a > thing?" "1 thought that perhaps the robbery j was done by the same pair of hands that some time in the past thirty-six • hours has relieved me of my precious pearls and left a visiting card in the . shape of a red cloak —that's all." I The silence that followed Squire Mannisher's bombshell was devasta- : tiny; in its in tensity. I Gervaisc was the first to break it i when he said, rather stupidly: "You , mean you've been robbed, too?" , Squire nodded. "That's about the ticket. I was wondering whether there ■ was any connection. > Gervaisc was looking fixedly at his ; wife. Since the night of the diamond theft he had —as she had requested him L to do —said nothing about the red cloak that had been found in the room. "This is more serious than we think," began Muriel Leverton. "You're quite right about the cloak, Squire. We did find one, but we decided that it was not in the family interests at the moment- to make any mention of it to the police. What do you think?" she asked, pointedly at her brother. "L suppose the cloak stirred as many memories in my mind as it did in •yours, Muriel," mused her brother. "I've been trying to discover some association of ideas, but I'm hanged if I can." "Have you considered Give?" she asked him, ber voice scarcely louder than a whisper. "Give? JJti t how? That's impossible," he gave his opinion with a hint of unreasonableness. "Only Give would know about the cloaks," she reminded . him. "By the way," she hastened to ask, quickly, "you haven't told the police, have you ?" He shook his head decisively. "Certainly not. I might have done if I hadn't been puzzled about that cloak." Muriel Leverton's face brightened. "That's good, Squire, and I don't think there's any reason that you should. This is something wo have got to do on our own." "Then why did you bother the police?" Squire Mannisher* inquired. "And do they know about the cloak?" Gervaisc supplied answers to both his brother-in-law's questions. "We telephoned the .police because we felt that the insurance people would want to know why. We thought that having done that there was no need for us to mention the cloak since Muriel appears to imagine—rather unreasonably, I think—that Give's at the bottom of this. How can Give be, at the bottom of anything wli.cn he's in a lunatic asylum?" Muriel Lcverton said: "Sh! Darling you mustn't talk like that. Clivo isn't in an asylum. He's in a homo . . . ft sort of mental convalescent home, and it was very necessary, wasn't it, Squire?" Her brother nodded. He Was, at that moment, feeling particularly uncomfortable. That business about Give hadn't been nico at the time, but as Muriel had reminded her husband it had been "very necessary." "But I thought you just told me that the police hacl heard some story about a girl in a red cloak," persisted Mannisher, striving to get the conversation down to realities. "It's quite likely that the girl who told the Superintendent that is romancing," said Mrs. Leverton. "If it were Give she couldn't mistake him for a girl, could she?" Squire Mannisher decided on action. He rose to his feet. "I suppose it hasn't occurred to you that someone might be working for Give?" he asked. "Or someone has obtained certain information from him and is using it for their own purposes? Where's your telephone, Gervaisc. 1 want a Continental call. We'll find out about Give one way or the other right away." Gervaisc and Mannisher left Muriel Lcverton alone with the chaos that was her thoughts. She was alone for nearly half an hour. \ When they returned both men looked grim. "Wp're probably right about Give," announced Gervaisc, nervously. "He's been missing for a month "and the authorities at the convalescent home," whether deliberately or not Gep'nise emphasised those words, "can't find any trace of him. They say they've .scoured the whole of tfie Belgian and French coasts." For a moment Muriel Leverton appeared bereft of speech, but when she found her tongue she said: "There, you sec, now. We've got to keep the police out of this as far as ever we can. We've got to work on our own. What do you say, Squire?" Squire Mannisher agreed. CHAPTER. X. GKKVAISH CONSULTS GERRY Gervaisc Leverton sought out Gerry after lie had left Squire Mannisher and Muriel to discuss a plan of campaign. He found Gerry in the orchard admiring one of the late pear crops. The young man was standing with both hands plunged into his pockets and with a pipe between his teeth. "Hello, Gerry," Gervaisc greeted him. "1 thought you were in conference somewhere with our inestimable Ash." Gerry removed the pipe from his mouth and grinned. "I'm afraid I'm going all arboreal, uncle," lie announced. " I proceed from one tree to another. This is a jolly fine crop you've got here. I've never seen such whoppers." Gervaisc appreciated his nephew's humour. "Yes, they are pretty good, but I didn't come hero to ' discuss pears, I want your advise, and what's more I want it strictly privately. If your Aunt thought I was down'h'ere discussing things with you, she'd have a fit." Gerry felt suddenly tense with interest. He had always somehow liked Uncle Gervaisc.There had always been something intensely genuine about him. "I'm quite sure Aunt Muriel doesn't want me nosing around here at all," volunteered Gerry, frankly. "Would you mind tolling me why? I'm frightfully interested." • "It's a family matter, Gerry," replied his uncle, guardedly, "You sec, Aunt Muriel thinks that her brother Give might be responsible." Gerry Daynton stared open-mouthed at his uncle. "Give?" ho "You mean " "I don't know whether you've ever heard of Give Mannisher," wont on Gervaisc Leverton, "the family seldom speak of him. He's been away from normal society for a long, long time. That's why your aun't rather worried about the police. She's afraid that they might suspect him." "You mean lie's screwy?" asked Gerry, without amusement, Gervaiso nodded. "Something like that," he answered vaguely. "I don't say that he's insane. Just little bit unbalanced. A bit eccentric, as' it were." i(To bo-eqntinued-'-dally.jj ,