SHORT STORIES.

Otago Witness, Issue 3111, 29 October 1913, Page 81

SHORT STORIES.

(All Rights Reserved.)

CAUGHT IN THE WEB.

Bv Bcefohd Dklannot, author of “The * Red Road to Riches," “ The Midnight Special,” “ Between the Lines, the Margate Mystery,” etc.

I beat on the door of mv cell with clenched fists mad almost. It was such a terrible thing to realise that this wa-’ to be my home for seven years. Inc judge's sentence —it seemed that thewoios would forever ring in my ears—was ‘ seven years’ penal servitude.’ It might as wel have been seventy-times-seven, I thought in despair, for hope was dead in me. Daphne! My darling Daphne. 1 should never see her again ! Even if l lived through ray sentence it would nobe possible ever to ask her to become m\ wife, I, with so foul a stain on mv name Two months ago I had counted myself the happiest of men. In the employ of Brone, Jown, and Co. —almost the biggest shipbuilders in England—l had chanced to think of a labour-saving device. 1 hey patented it, and as a result 1 was pitchforked from the outer office to a position where mv salary was trebled. The big lift removed all obstacles from mv path. Whereas poverty had kept me silent, I now became eloquent. Daphne listened, and we became engaged. Hours and hours we spent over plans for furnishing our modest little nest, whkh was to be the happiest in all the world. Sudenly, it seemed, the need for modesty vanished. A letter, bearing an Australian post-mark, reached me and I could scarcely contain my joy over the contents. A Melbourne firm of solicitors wrote stating that they were seeking the next-of-kin of one Richard Harflnge—my name is Bernard Harfinge, —who had recently died, leaving an estate valued at fifty thousand pounds. If I was the only son of the late Lord Harfinge, they desired me to forward documentary proof of that I was that son. > You can understand my elation. Fairly level-headed though, I decided to do nothing rash, and retained my post at Brone, and Co. s pending more definite information. The only person to whom I mentioned my good fortune, other than Daphne, was Arthur Stony. He sat next me when I was in the outer office, a happy, sportloving youngster, in an everlasting condition of “ hardupishness ” —or, as he put it, “ fitting his surname.” We had been great friends. _ . On the night following the arrival of the letter from Australia I remained late at the office. Some back work had to be made up in time for the quarter audit. As I sat at a desk in the governor’s private room, checking some documents from the safe there, the communicating door was opened and Edgar Mawton entered. Mawton was big, dissipated, and blase. There was no great love lost between us. But a display of jealousy when I was promoted over his head had died down. “You!” I exclaimed, ‘‘l thought you’d gone long ago?” The flushed face told me that he had been dining more wisely than well, whilst I had been hard at work on “balances.”

“ My dear chap,” he laughed back, “ I heard you say you were going to keep your nose on the grindstone, and dropn ■ in to see how you were getting on. The fact is ” —he knocked the ash from his cigar—“there’s something I wanted to say to you.” “ What is it?” I queried, wtmderingly. “ You’re getting married shortly. That’s a time when money’s a help. How would you like to handle a couple of hundred pounds ?” As he spoke—regarding me all the time with an amiable smile —I stared at him as if I thought he had gone mad. “Two hundred pounds!” 1 echoed. “What do you mean?” “Simply that I can put you in the way of getting as much. And it’s a quite easy thing I want you to do. Just this : Since your promotion you have the safe keys. 1 want you to lend them to me — to make a wax impression. You shall have a hundred down and another hundred in a week’s time.”

So dastardly a proposal seemed to take my breath away. At last, starting up with clenched fists, I exclaimed : “You unspeakable scoundrel! Do you mean that you ask me to help you to rob the firm"? To ”

“My dear fellow, he still smiled, “there’s no need for excitement. Who said anything about robbery? Why, the safe door is open at this moment, and full of useless* papers. What I wanted was a duplicate key ” “For no honest purpose! As for helping you, I shall inform Mr Brone the first thing to-morrow morning, and, whatever the consequences, you can blame yourself.” The smile faded from his face, and an ugly light gleamed in his dark eyes. But that did not frighten me. Big as he was, I was top of the boxing class I had so long attended at the Polytechnic. “So,” he said, “that's the way you crow, my young cocalorum! Flapping your wings before you’ve got to the top of vour dung-heap! Because of that fifty thousand pounds you think you are coming into—that Australian fortune, eh?” I had been wondering whether to pick the brute up and throw him out. But Vifc: ia«t words riveted my attention. Hmv could he possibly know of my inheritance? He seemed to read the question in my face and continued, sneering!y:

“When you tell your affairs to an office kid like young Stoney-Broke, you can’t expect it to remain a State secret. You think you can turn up your nose at a couple of hundred pounds. That’s where you make a large-sized mistake, because

you are not the heir to that Australian fortune at all!”

"What!”

"Simply because there are two lives before yours When your father married your mother, he believed his first wife and child wore dead. They are alive to-day, and come before you, as the rightful heirs to the fortune.”

"It is a lie! Even if it were true, how could vou have hoard of it?”

"By* chance”—he shrugged his shoulders—"more than anything else. They are a bad lot, this woman and her son. But I know her whereabouts. And unless you fall In with my suggestion I'll produce her, and you’ll never touch a penny of the fortune I” I stared at him in amazement. This must be a cock-and-bull story. Ho seemed to read my thoughts, for he continued :

"If the matter goes through the courts vou’ll not only lose the fortune, but you'll have to refund the few hundreds your father left. The woman lives Drury lane way. If \ou care to come with me, I’ll prove every word I say.” A moment’s hesitation, then I resolved to go with him. Before doing so, after locking the safe, I took the keys round to the Safe Deposit. My brain was in something of a whirl as I did so, at the threatened wreck of all my hopes.

Mawton suggested that it would be unwise to let the woman know my real name, and, without quite knowing why, I agreed. I had heard of my father’s first unhappy marriage, and from what I knew of it, it seemed awful that this woman should rise out of the past. We ultimately paused at a block of tenements, and, entering one of the houses, Mawton led the way to a dark, evil-smell-ing room near- the roof. “ Evening, Mrs Loader,” he said IP the drink-sodden, prematurely-aged woman who opened the door. ‘‘l’ve calied with reference to your admission to the Blackley Almshouses. I think it will be all right ” " Oh, I ’ope so, sir, I do ’ope to heaven it will. Now that I’ve sworn off the drink” —the place reeked of gin enough to turn one sick, —“ I do ’ope that I can get into one of them alms’ouses, with a little pensipu, about eight bob a ■week——’ ’

“ Yea, yes, Mrs Loader,” Mawton interrupted (his skill as an actor excited my admiration even then), “I hope so. But we must—could you let me see your marriage certificate? Only a formality, jttu know.”

“My marriage certificate —with that scamp John Harfinge?” I reddened at the words. “What left me just because of the drink—as if a married woman couldn’t have her drop! Ah ! I was goodlooking in those days, and could have married Tom Binks, the bo'okie, that used to come to the rest-rong where I was barmaid, instead of that psalm-singer. I never bore his name after he thought Td been killed, but I’ve kept the certificate. ’ “ Yes, that’s all we want to see,” interposed Mawton, as the maudlin harridan rambled on. “ Show it us.”

The woman invited ns in, hastened to hide a- black bottle the while she repeated that she had “ sworn off ” the drink. From an old teacaddy she produced the document asked for.

I glanced at it. Heavens, yes! There were the names —John Harfinge and Mary Ann Loader. It was true 1 How I stumbled down the' stairs and out into the street I cannot tell.

Mawton gripped my arm and whispered in my ear, “You fool!" What is what I asked yPu against fifty thousand pounds? Are you going to let that hag and her lout of a son have that? No one but you and I know. What I ask is only a trifle—and, any way, can never affect you, for with fifty thousand pounds you will be able to quit business forever.” My brain was whirling, or I might not have let his tempting voice continue unchecked. As it was, I said, weakly: “ W 7 ait till to-morrow —leave it till tomorrow. I’ll let you— ——” “Know then? Right! To-morrow be it.”

Although I went to bed that night it was not till dawn that ray eyes closed; I was wrestling with temptation. When at last I fell into a troubled sleep the central figure of my dreams was a besotted hag gloating over a bag of gold. Whilst at breakfast my landlady entered. A gentleman wished to see me urgently, she said. My amazement was great when presently Mawton was shown into the room.

“ Old chap,” lie said, genially, “ I’ve come to apologise fox being such a rotter last night. It’s this way : I had heard of your fortune—and wa-s filled with envy. I asked myself, Why should I always work? As a result I resolved on getting the keys, waiting til] there was a good sum, and then bolting with it. Wait a minute” —he held up his hand, seeing that I was about to interrupt. ‘‘l had been drinking, too, as well. It seemed simple, as I had the hold over vou 1 But now that I’m sober, why, man alive I can see what a large-sized ass I was! I dropped in now to make it clear to you. and to ask you, now you can see how sorry I am, to say nothing to Brone.” ‘‘But that woman?”

“ Mary Ann Loader? My dear chap, she’s a bad lot; you could see that with half an eye. Who knows? Possibly she was married before she met your guv'nor; in which case she would be out of court. That might be the reason he left her. Anyway, if you’ll say nothing. I'll find out, and help you all I can.” It was weak of me, perhaps, but in the end I agreed to silence, although I resolved to keep an eye on Mawton. He was not the kind of man to trust further than your gun would carry. About a fortnight later Brone, who had invented a new type of submarine, turned up unexpectedly at the London office. He deposited the plans in the safe, and asked me to work out various calculations which he would need for the following morning, when he had an appointment with the War Lords at Whitehall

That entailed my staying late at the office again. Then I had been disturbed ; so I was now. I started up suddenly at a sound from the outer office. At the stone instant the door opened and two masked men rushed in.

What followed happened swiftly. With the instinct of self-preservation I darted to the telephone. But before I could get the receiver off the hook a crashing blow fell, and I seemed to drop away into a land of nothingness. How long 1 lay unconscious I can only conjecture by what happened after. When at last I staggered to my feet 1 had only a vague feeling of something being wrong ; then recollection of the whole affair returned.

The safe door stood open. My assailants had gone. As I staggered towards the safe I guessed that the object of the robbery had been to secure the submarine plans. A gasp of relief escaped me as I saw them on the shelf where they had been placed. Then I turned to the telephone, with the idea of ringing up the police. But before I could get the exchange a rush of feet sounded in the outer office. A moment later the door was thrown open, and Mr Brone, followed by two con'•des, entered. Great heavens!” my principal exIned. "It is true, then!” He indicated the safe. "What is the meaning of this?”

"There’s been a robbery,” I said, faintly, "and I was knocked down —I was just going, to ring for the police.” "There’s no need to.” he responded, grimly. ‘ They're here to arrest you 1 Where is vour confederate?”

“My confederate?’’ I gasped in amaze ment. “What ”

"Listen! I was warned of this by an anonymous letter: that you were to let a man into the office to replace the plans by duplicates or dummies; that you were to say you had been attacked and get away—to join- your confederate, and sell the plans.” ’Mr Brone! Surely you don’t believe that ?”

“What else is there to believe? Your presence here in this state proves it. Officer, arrest that man 1”

Dumbfounded, I could not realise fully •what his words implied. The officer laid a hand on my shoulder and uttered some jargon of formal warning. Searching roe, he found a bundle of bank-notes. At the sight of them Brone laughed harshly. ‘‘Notes,’’ he said, “taken from the safe. And these dummy plans” —he picked up a bundle —“have been substituted for the real ones. Look here, Harfinge,” he addressed me sternly, “if you pxpect a scrap of mercy, make a clean breast of it, so that we can at least get the plans back.”

I could only shake ,my head. What was the use of talking? An hour later I was in a police cell. Bit by bit the web tightened. Being found in the office under what was looked on as “suspicious circumstances,” my lodgings were searched and there letters were found indicating that I was to receive two thousand pounds for the plans ! My feeble reply to the charge was that there was no need for me to enter into such a villainous plot, as I had recently been notified of a fortune awaiting me, and I gave the name of the Australian solicitors. That plunged me still deeper in the mire, for when inquiry was made it was found there was no such firm! I was committed for trial. The only person who believed in my innocence was Daphne —heaven bless her sweet faith!

To the police ! made a clean breast of Mawton’s villainy and about the woman Loader. The officer listened with one eye closed. Inquiry was, however, made at the Drury lane tenement, and no trace of the woman was discovered. That forced me to the conclusion that Mawton was at the root of the whole affair; that, to secure the plans, he had spread the net for me, in order to divert suspicion from himself.

When Daphne visited me in prison 1 told her this, and she advised me to consult Watson Ward, a private detective, who had made a name for himself as a crime-investigator. I was filled with hope that he would be able to unravel the tangle of mystery; but, alas! I was doomed to disappointment. The judge, after a verdict of guilty' had been returned, characterised my excuses as the “scheming subterfuge of a dishonest rogue.” I was sentenced to seven years’ penal servitude.

Boom! It travelled over the desolate moor and reverberated like thunder in the distant hills. I almost laughed as I heard the sound—the prison alarm gun. It was the signal—the beginning of the hunt, in which I was the quarry. If seen by armed warders I knew I should be fired at. Let me confess that life had so lost its charm that I should have bared my breast to the shot cheerfully.

A dense fog had suddenly rolled up, and—it was a dog’s chance—l took to my heels. Then I crouched in a .clump of furze. I heard warders sweep by, and knew that in a short while the whole countryside would be searching for the escaped convict. Presently I ran again—• raced on blindly. Sounds of a motor-horn came to me—l had reached a highway. Presently I saw gleaming headlights in the gloom. If only I could get away in that car! Even as the thought occurred to me there sounded a loud crash. A black form, the sole occupant of the car, was hurled into the air, and fell with a thud on to the road, whilst—due to the force of the sudden stop—the lights died out. Racing to the spot, I quickly saw the cause of ihe mishap. Tile wheel had run in a ditch inches below the level of the road, and the car had been swung round with a sudden jerk. If only it remained in order, here was my chance. A quick examination—l had had experience of Brone’s car—revealed the fact that the machine was little the worse. Turning to the owner, I feared to find him dead ; but heavy respiration told that.

badly hurt as he was, he lived. Quickly' I resolved what to do. Donning the manhi motor coat and cap, I took from his pockets money and a wallet. At some distant town I would leave the car, purchase clothes, and get away. Lifting the unconscious man into the back of the car, I relit the lamps and dtove slowly on, hoping to reach a town where I could procure what X needed. Perhaps a dozen miles had been covered, when I became conscious that something was wrong—the petrol was giving out ! As I realised that, and slowed down, I heard the sound of a motor-horn behind me. My movements had been observed! Evea as I cast about for some way of escape, my car came to a stop. I leaped out, resolved to make for the open country. But by this time the pursuing car had reached me. A couple of men sprang out, one exclaiming : “Halt! The game’s up, Edgar Mawton !” I was so astonished that I stead stock still. One of the men darted forward and gripped my arm. As I raised my. fist to strike I caught sight of his face in the light of the lamp. My arm dropped inertly as I exclaimed in amazement : ‘ * Watson Ward ! ’ ’ It was indeed the London detective. As I exclaimed his name he dragged me into the light. Then he whistled, exclaiming: “Bernard Harfinge! The smallness of the world !” I told how I had escaped from the convict gang and entered the car -when the driver was thrown out. At that he struck a light and held it to the injured man’s face. “Edgar Maw ton!” he said. “And badly hurt, too.” Then, turning to me again, he added: “You have been driving the man you have to thank for your seven years’ sentence. , But cheer * up You won’t go back—at least, not for long. In this very car are proofs of your innocence. Mawton has been holding on to the plans for a top price, and was on the way to Plymouth with them. But for the accident in the fog we should probably have been too late. Come, we must hurry.” I never saw such a man for swift action as Watson Ward. He and his companion —a C.I.D. officer it turned out—transferred Mawton to the second car, ar.j in a trice were making for Plymouth, where Mawton’s confederate awaited him. On the way the detective explained the mystery. When he was first consulted ha quickly decided that the only way to prove my innocence was to establish someone else’s guilt, and he set to work to watch Mawton. Then, realising the value of the plans, he thought it of more importance to recover them than, for the time being. clear me of the charge brought against me. “You were only a pawn in the game,” he said, “ and though I was sorry to see you carted off, still, preventing those secret plans from getting into enemies’ hands was of more importance to England than your safety. Fortunately, Mawton’s greediness helped me—he held Out, Oliver Twistlike, for more, —and the delay was aaimmense advantage. By watching I ascertained that at last he had been promised his price—be was to hand over the plans at Plymouth to-night. They were in his car—we have them safe, —and a British gunboat may yet intercept the enemies* yacht awaiting them in Plymouth Sound.” Unfortunately,, however, the foreigners were too keen for us. They smelt a rat. The man who should have received the plans got off in time, and the yacht passed the three-mile limit. To avoid complications. Admiralty discretion was given a

front seat —valour being relegated to tl f back for once. Later I heard the full details*. Even the Australian letter had been part of Mawton’s deep-laid plot. He had sought to coerce me in the matter of the duplicate safe keys, ro that they Would be ready when needed, and letters in h:s wallet showed that he had plotted with Mary Ann Loader." Since then he had had to pay her hush-money, the marriage certificate being a clever forgery. Eis injuries proved fatal. V\ hen he recovered in the hospital, and realised that the game, was up, and death faced him, ho made a full confession. He had been one of the masked men. Under a bearded disguise also he had rented the room above mine at my lodgings, and so had got at my papers. I was granted a free pardon and compensation to the extent of two thousand pounds—a solatium for the mythical fortune. Brone reinstated me; and again Daphne and I started tlie building of our nest. first of next month we hope to Like possession of it —the day we come back from our honeymoon.