THE CRIMSON CLOAK

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXVI, Issue 23401, 18 July 1939, Page 17

THE CRIMSON CLOAK

CHAPTER X.—(Continued) Gerry looked as serious as he felt. Ho recollected that a long, long time ago lie had heard his mother refer in an unguarded moment to Uncle Cliye. Whether he had ever questioned her aboiit a relative he had never seen he could not remember. Anyway, he could not recall that the name had ever cropped up since that time. "I'd like to get a little closer to all this," announced Gerry, " hut before you tell me anything more I'd like you to know that I appreciate Aunt Muriel's reluctance to mention her suspicions to the police. I suppose it was unfortunate that they were called in in the first place." "That couldn't be helped," Gervaise told him. "You see, the insurance people would naturally have wanted to know why we didn't. What 1 was thinking, Gerry, was that perhaps you and I might start a few inquiries of our own. They'd have to be very discreet, of course, and neither your aunt nor j'our uncle, Squire Mannisher would have to know about them." Gerry remembered Uncle Squire more perfectly. He recalled that he had never particularly liked the man because there had been an occasion when he had once soundly cuffed a high-spirited boy across tho ear. "AVliere does Uncle Squire come in?" asked Gerry with even greater interest. Gervaise told him the news that Squire Mannisher had brought earlier that day, and Gerry whistled as he heard it. There was an almost infectious eagerness in his'eyes. "You mean that Uncle Squire actually found a red cloak after the theft of the pearls last night." "Exactly!" "Then there is some truth in what Ash tells me about one of the maids seeing someone wearing a similar cloak the night the Leverton Diamond was stolen ?" Gervaise nodded. "I'm tempted to tell you something more, Gerry," he went on. " Your aunt found a cloak hanging across a chnirback immediately Ave had made the discovery." "She didn't tell the police?" "No!" You see, Gerry, it was the discovery of the cloak that first led her to suspect Clive, because there's some absurd story about all the family wheji they were very young being attired in such cloaks, and she imagines that it is Give's way of intimating to the family that he's got a rather long memory." "But why should Uncle Clive want to steal from either you or Uncle Squire?" There was a deep note of perplexity in the younger man's voice. Gervaise shook his head almost despairingly. "Thats something I don't know and even if your aunt suspects anything, she hasn't mentioned her suspicions to me." Gerry Davnton was still thinking of the girl in the red cloak he had met on his first night in London, and lie was trying desperately to persuade himself that, of course, there could be 110 possible connection. "And just precisely what do you want me to do, Uncle?" "I don't quite know, my boy," hesitated Gervaise. "J was thinking that now that we know Clive Mannisher has been missing for some time from the place where he was bein"; looked after, perhaps you could make some inquiries on your own account and report back to me. Of course, I have your word that you won't mention a word of this to 3'our friend, Superintendent Ash?" _ Gerry was quite definite in his assurances. "Certainly not, Uncle! Although it's tough luck on old Ash," he added. "The Superintendent's got a job of work to do. You've invited him lip here to catch a thief and now 1 find all of you conspiring to burke him at every possible turn. It's hardly fair you know, is it?" "I quite see your point of view, Gerry, old man," Gervaise agreed. "But don't you see that once wo mention Clive to the police, something nasty might come out that quite obviously won't do the family any good." Gerry was silent for a moment. He stood gazing at a heavily-laden pear tree with half-closed eyes. "You mean that Uncle Clive is the skeleton in the family cupboard ?„ Is that it?" "Something like that," Gervaise agreed. "I don't know all the facts myself. In fact, I've never troubled to ascertain them. All I do understand is that your aunt would be very upset if anything about Clive got into the newspapers. There are some things, my boy, that go deeper than one's duty. There is, for instance, a sense of loyalty to one's family and since you are part of the family' I think you will appreciate my point of view." Gerry did appreciate that point although ho was genuinely sorry for Superintendent Ash condemned to work miracles in the dark, especially when the working of those miracles demanded more than one shaft of daylight. "When do I start?" asked Gerry, suddenly, so suddenly that Gervaise was momentarily startled. "So soon as I find out just where Give was supposed to be living," he said. "Once I ve found that out. all you've got to do is to announce to your aunt that you've decided to return to London to continue your holiday. She'll be glad of that, my boy, you may bo sure." Gerry grinned again and watched Uncle Garvaise turn and stride back in the direction of the house. • » « • • Squire Mannisher did not remain vcrv long at Leverton Grange. 110 declined an invitation to stay to lunch. He motored to London just as fast as lie could and, having garaged his car near Victoria Station, s6t out for an address in one of those labyrinths of obscuro streets that abound in tho neighbourhood. His knock at the door was answered by as frowsy looking a hag as anyone could imagine. Her untidy grey hair fell forward over her face. "I want to see The Boss," he announced, authoritatively. "Tako me to him." But the hag was standing for none of that. She knew her job. "Don't know what j'ou're talkin' abaht, mister. There's only one' boss here . . . that's me. Wot you want?" "Look here," persisted Mannisher, irritably. "I've no time to waste arguing with you. I want to see The Boss, and what s moro I mean to see him." Before tho woman could answer tho challenge a deep booming voice came from tlio dark narrow hallway behind her. It said: "Who means to see Tho Boss. I'd liko to know?' At tho sound of that booming voice the hag'in tho doorway seemed to grow visibly smaller. A rough hand fell on her skinny shoulder and she was bundled inside. Squire Leverton found himself suddenly confronted by a formidablelooking man who looked as if ho wore a professional wrestler. "I'm sorry to disturb you," began Mannisher, "but I was recommended to you by Mr. Brookins. You remember him, of course? He's done a few discreet private inquiries for me." "And wot if 'o 'as?" demanded tho big man. . , „ ~ , "I think I've got a job for you that will he well worth your while," Mannisher told him with just that inflection to his voice that seemed to say "and when I say worth while 1 mean just that." Tho big man stared hard at his visitor. "We'd better go inside to talk," he announced. "If Brookins put you on

By J. R. WILMOT Author of "Night Tide," "Death in the Stalls," etc. A gaily-coloured silken garment made the sort of clue no one could miss, but it led to amazing adventure and mystery.

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to me, he knew what he was doing. I only undertake tough jobs, guv'nor." Squire Mannisher passed along the narrow dark hallway behind the great bulk of the big man, who opened a door at the farther end and held it open for his visitor to enter. "We can talk business in 'ere." he said, "and people who come 'ere always know that dough talks loudest." Squire Mannisher got the man's meaning in one and felt satisfied that Brookins had just about measured up the situation when he had phoned him before leaving Leverton Grange. CHAPTER XL "liK MAY HE ARMED" The room into which Sqiiire Mannisher had been conducted smelt musty. Over the window at the farther end a holland blind —tattered at the sides — had been drawn apparently with tho object of excluding as much light as possible. So far as Mannisher could make out there was a small table beneath tho window on which what purported to be a tablecloth was untidily spread. On the table were half a dozen empty beer bottles and one glass. "Sorry all the beer's gone, Guv'nor," announced the big man, reluctantly. "Wasn't expectin' visitors. Now what's the low-down?" Without giving too much away Squire Mannisher outlined his proposal which was to the effect that Clive Mannisher had disappeared from a mental home and that it was believed ho was being assisted in a campaign of robbery by a girl given either to wearing a red cloak or who had the curious habit of leaving such a garment behind her whenever she set out to steal something. The big man listened without comment while Squire Mannisher was speaking. Occasionally he expectorated lustily into the empty grato at his elbow. "This sounds a funny do to me, Guv'nor," he complained. "It's not my usual 'abit to work abroad, although I once did a little job in Paris for Mister Brookins, and I got well paid for that, too." "You'll be well paid for this," Mannisher- assured him, "but remember, there's to be no violence. All we want is a report." "If that's all you want, Guv'nor, Mister Brookins is the man for you. We only tackle really rough stuff." Mannisher felt suddenly disappointed. "But don't you see," he persisted, "the man we want is likely to bo extremely violent. Ho may be armed. So might his accomplices." The big mail grunted. It was a coarse, unhealthy noise. "That's diff'rent," he conceded. "How much is it worth, Guv'nor? A sparkler and an oj-ster string, you sed!" "Five hundred and expenses," announced Mannisher, expansively. "Will that be on account, Guv'nor?" There was a noticeable strain of amusement apparent in the big man's voice. "That will bo payment in full," he was told. The big man shook his head. "Nothin' dain.' Guv'nor!" This with a suggestion of finality. "What price were you thinking of?" asked his visitor. "A thousand at least." "Impossible!" The big man was evidently not accustomed to this sort of sales talk. " 'Ere," he asked, "don't let's break up the party, 1 Guv'nor. 'Ow about seven-fifty. That's reas'nable, enough. These things that were pinched must be worth a pretty penny." "It's not their intrinsic value," Mannisher explained. "Just sentimental, if you understand." The big man guffawed. "That's rich, that is. Sentimental value . . . worth five hundred of the best." His laugh irritated Mannisher beyond measure and it took him all his time to keep his temper'in check. "All right," be announced. "I'll go to seven-fifty, and not a penny more. When can you start?" The big man held up a restraining hand. "Not so fast, Gur'nor! Not so fast. 'Ow do we know this 'ere loonev ain't in London? Or the girl, if there is one?" Mannisher felt himself on safe ground now. "For the very good reason that the man I want you to find couldn't land in England without a passport and T happen to know that he hasn't got one. As for the girl—and I've convinced myself that there must be one —she is more than likely to be on her way back to him at this very moment. Find the man and you find the girl." The big man sat thoughtfully, wagging his enormous head from side to side like tho pendulum of a clock. "Aye. that's sense, Guv'nor," he admitted. "See wot it is to be born with brains. All right! Seven-fifty it is. You'd better leave me the address of the place where 'e was last 'card from and leave the rest to me and the boys." Mannisher was heartily thankful to got out into the air again. He felt that lie had done a good afternoon's work. He would not, however, have been quite so easy in his mind had he known what was taking place in that dim and dirty room lie had recently left. The big man was pouring out a glass of beer for himself and for his companion who had entered almost as soon as Mannisher had left. "It's a cinch, m'boy," he was saying. "This bloke Mannishcr's a sucker if ever there was one. All we've got to do is to locate tho looney and the girl who's supposed to be pulling off the job for 'ini, get the goods and clear right out. If the stuff's as good as 1 think it is, it'll bo a long, long time before we're back in dear old London." The newcomer was in striking contrast to the big man. He was smaller . . . more stocky and, oddly enough, more refined in speech and manner. "You sure he's on the level, Boss? No phoney stuff?" "Level or nothin'," growled tho big man. "Just you let mo touch the sparkler, that's all." "When do wo start?" "You've got tho passports?" "All Okay, Boss." "That's fine. Pop along and squint at tho time-tables. Dover-Ostend, you know." Tho other nodded, crammed a black hat on his head and left tho big man to his beer. Meanwhile, Superintendent Ash at Leverton was growing moro and more irritable. Inspector Sumpter had returned from his London visit with a report from tho makers of the electric burglar alarm that was far from being encouraging. "They say that they can account for tho movements of all their employees on the night in question," he announced in a voice redolent of futility. "In fact, sir, they were inclined to be highly indignant at tho smallest suggestion that any member of the stair could be in any way under suspicion." "So we're been wasting the taxpayers' money sending you to London, Sumpter. Is that it?" Ash made a wry face as he sat in ono of Gervaise Leverton's lounge chairs and filled his pipe. "That's what it looks like, sir. I called at the Yard and saw Inspector Murdoch. He's had no reply yet to the all-stations call about tho diamond." Ash grunted again. (To be continued (tally.)