No. 7 SAVILLE SQUARE.

Otago Witness, Issue 3337, 27 February 1918, Page 48

No. 7 SAVILLE SQUARE.

By WILLIAM QUEUX. CHAPTER V—A STARTLING DISCOVERY./ "We will dine wisely, but not too well. If we dined unwisely we might imagine more than we saw." The was Mr Richard Temple, writer of stories of mystery, the place was the club of the "Junior Scribes." The House dinner, plain, but nutritious, would be served "in about ten minutes. Bravington, R.N., smiled. He was very fond of Temple, but he sometimes thought his friend indulged in airs of intellectual superiority. He also thought, privately; that a month on board of one of his Majesty's battleships would have turned him into a very good fellow. Thus does the man of action despise the man of mere intelligence. , On his side, Temple had quite a regard for Bravington. But he assumed an air of superiority over him in the club of th 6 "Junior Scribes." Bravington was, no doubt, a smart sailor, and of the breed of empire-builders. But he lacked the gift of tongues. In the verbal thrust and parry of the nimble-witted members of the "Junior Scribes," he went down at the first touch. "In plain English," said the lieutenant, with 'his "usual genial smile. "You think we had better go slow in the matter of wine." Temple slapped his friend cordially on the back. "You have hit it, my brave son of Neptune, in your terse but exceedingly lucid English." He paused a moment and then added in his rather pedantic way "We are out tot-night to observe certain alleged phenomena with regard to No. 7 Saville square. We require to have our intelligence absolutely unclouded in the pursuit of such an important investigation. And therefore, if we look too much on the wine when it is red, or even indulge in a second liqueur, we might mistake No. 7 for the house next door, or even the house on the other side." Bravington looked at him calmly, with his cherub smile, and spoke with freedom of old friendship. "Dick, old,man, I know that all this sort of talk, while you are in this club, is reckoned clever. If you were on board my ship we should either duck your head in cold water, with a view„ to bringing you to your senses, or land you for the nearest lunatic asylum." Temple smiled serenely; he was not in the least disturbed by his friend's sarcasm. He spoke with his usual calm; "Heaven forbid I should ever be subject to your drastic and barbaric methods. All the same, Jim, each of us ' has his appointed place in this troublesome world, and. please don't despise me too much, because I cannot always express myself in your homely and trenchant vernacular." "L don't despise you, old chap," began Bravington contritely. Temple interrupted him with uplifted finger. "Of course, you don't; we only speak in different tongues; you generally in what we might call common or kindergarten language, I in—but modesty forbids me to pursue the difference further." iiut Bravington was growing impatient. "Let us go into dinner, you ultimate expression of a sublimated donkey," he said kindly. "If you didn't talk so much vou'd be quite a decent chap." Temple looked at him with a quite tolerant expression. "You are improving, positively you are improving. I had doubts about you when I put you up for this club, but I believe you will justify yourself." Bravington felt a little nonplussed by the ready wit of his friend, who could always turn even an awkward situation to his own advantage. He followed him into the dining-room with a rather sulky air. The dinner, a plain but well-cooked one, was "speedily got through. Temple allowed one liqueur with the coffee, no more. But he permitted two cigars; tobacco, he maintained stimulated the brain. "It is, fortunately, a cloudy night," he remarked. "So we can start half an hour earlier. I have had a large experience of 'spooks,' but they never start till the evening shades prevail." Bravington, R.N., was absolutely devoid of sentiment, except in tho direction of Lilian Paske. He took a big pull at his cigar and bent across the table, with a slightly, puzzled look in his frank, honest eyes. "Now tell me, Dick old man, you don't really believe in any of this rot, do yon?" Temple regarded him with a whimsical smile. Bravington was really to him a very interesting study, in view, not of his'possibilities, but his limitations. "I could talk to you for the hour about these things, but I very much fear you would not understand me in the least. You see, you are a man of action, simply. You would not believe in anything you did not come face to face with."

"No." said Bravington simply. "I don't think I should." "But," continued Temple in his smooth accent. "There are things, Horatio—l mean, Lieutenant Bravington, R.N.—that are not dreamed of in your philosophy. You don't believe in 'spooks.' Honestly, I think T am with you in your disbelief. But there are several scientific gentleman, -who could put us both in their waistcoat pockets for brains, who do be-

lieve in them. What have you got to say to that, my friend?" Bravington drank his coffee and admitted that he had nothing to advance in the shape of argument. But he was firmly convinced that it was all "rot." "Come along, old man, and we will embark upon our investigations," said Dick Temple, at length. They hailed a taxi and directed the driver to Saville Square. It was a heavy, cloudy night. Dick halted the taxi at the extreme end of the gloomy square. "We'll go to the north side, Jim. We can then look across and watch the phenomena," he explained to "his friend. Bravington was not in the best of tempers. He had given in to this whim of Lilian's, and he felt he was rather a fool for having done so. Temple was pretending to take a great interest in the matter, but he was not at all certain that Temple was not pulling his leg all the while. And, if nothing came of it, as nothing would come of it—of that Bravington was certain—Temple would tell the story all over the club to-morrow, and say that he had almost converted his naval friend into a belief in "spooks." Temple insisted in walking up and down the north side of the square, where they could keep watch and ward on the south side, particularly on the dismantled house, No. 7. They walked up and down for about 10 minutes. It was a very gloomy quarter. Even the housemaids and. cooks did not seem to have enough heart to emerge from the areas and await the coming of the dilatory policeman. Bravington grew impatient. "Let's cut it, Dick. . They're not coming out tonight," he said. Temple was more patient. "Go slow, old boy. This is not a naval battle. The 'spooks' take their time." They walked up and down for another five minutes. Then they saw two figures approaching them in a leisurely fashion. When they came close, Dick Temple held out his hand. "Ah, Smeaton, what brings you here? Let me introduce you to my great friend, Lieutenant Bravington." The man whom he saluted was a splendid specimen of humanity, tall and muscular. His face was broad and benevolent. You oould never have guessed him to be one of the keenest detectives in Scotland Yard.

Temple turned to his friends. "Mr Smeaton, Jim, has solved more mysteries than I have ever invented. In the detective force he is simply IT." Bravington shook the big hand extended to him with a genial but puzzled smile. He felt he was in a new world. The companion of the great Smeaton hung in the rear, as befitted a man of. small consequence. "And what the devil are you doing here, Smeaton?" Dick Temple was no respecter of persons. If he had been' ordered to interview the Archbishop of York, he would have been quite at home. "This is not a very attractive neighbourhood for a person of your eminence." The detective laughed genially., "Instead of answering your question, Mr Temple, let me put one of mv own. ■ What the devil are you doing here?" Temple never lied and very seldom bluffed. "I'll, put my cards on the table at once. I and my friend are watching No. 7 Saville square." The detective waited a moment before he imitited the frankness of the other man. Then he spoke quite simply. "A verv strange coincidence, Mr Temnle. That is precisely my errand tonight." Bravington had % laughed at it all throughout. He had his 'suspicions 'of Temnle, -who was an incorrigible joker; but this rotund, genial detective was not joking. He had come up here for a specific purpose. "And what as the object of watching No. 7?" a«ked Temple. Bravington felt that his friend was quite serious. Mr Smeaton beckoned the rather shabby individual who hung in the rear. "Come along, Brown." he said, in a reassuring voice, "and tell these srentlemen what you know about No. 7. Sneak quite openly. Mr Temple is an old friend of mine, and we have had some pretty hunts together." Mr Brown, thus abjured, advanced hesitalmgly and explained that he was a constable off duty for the time being. He had not observed No. 7 very closely, but certain things had been forced upon his attention, He knew Mr Rathburn very well by sight, the old gentleman with the glasses. He went on to state that,_ for the last few months, some queer things had occurred at No! 7. In the small hours of the night lights had appeared and disappeared at swift intervals, when all the inmates had been supposed to be at rest. But the most extraordinary thing of all was this : One night, about 2 o'clock in the morning, when he was on the opposite side of the square, a woman, partially dressed, had come out from No. 7 and run along the pavement, obviously in a state of srreat excitement. He bed tried to pursue her, but she had Die start of him, and when he had got round the length of the plantation she was gone. He then took the obvious course, and rang up No. 7. explaining the'reason. A vouns man had come down, 'no doubt Mr Rathburn's son, and was vei-y angry .at being disturbed. He had thrown half-a-crown to the policeman and told him he must have mistaken the house. But Mr Brown stuck to his guns, and swore to Smeaton, Dick Temple, and Bravington that the woman came out of No. 7. Ho was not likely to make a mistake. Brown was a humble person and full of deference to Ills superiors, but one could see at once that ho was straight and honest. And he had not enough imagination to make him invent. Wh*en the narrative was finished, the detective looked at Temple, for whom he

had a great respect. Temple looked at the detective. Bravington, suddenly plunged into a new and uncongenial world, kept eyes fixed on the two men. He felt he was out of it. The great detective was the first to break the silence. "What do you make of it, Mr Temple? Brown is a straightforward sort of chap. What he has seen, he has seen." "I quite agree, Smeaton, what Brown has seen, he has seen. Now, let us wait and see what wo can see. If these things have occurred once, they will occur again —unless." "Quite so," agreed Smeaton, "as you say, unless." Needless to say that neither the constable nor Bravington followed these two acute intellects in their dialogue. Then Mr Smeaton drew Temple aside. "Excuse me, but what is your friend doing here? What is his interest in the matter?" Temple explained the whole ciraurrfstances, that Bravington was in love with Lilian Paske, whose father was the owner of the two houses, Nos. 6 ( and 7. And it was through Miss Paske's interest in the matter that Bravington had consulted him. "More all this than meets the eye, Temple," was the detective's comment. "A devilish sight more, Smeaton,". agreed the writer of ' mystery stories. "Well, I vote we wait here for a couple of hours to watch for the recurrence of the phenomena." Then an idea suddenly struck Temple. "I say, do you know who lives at No. 6, by any chance?" ~ Smeaton beckoned to the constable, who had retired into the background after the relation of his breathless narrative. "Who lives in No. 6, Brown?" "A Mr Raymond sir. * He lives with an old aunt, a'foreigner, Madame LeCoq! I believe, sir, he is< a solicitor to the landlord, a Mr Paske, who owns the two houses and resides in the country." The detective dismissed him with a nod. Mr Temple, the writer of mystery stories, drew out a tablet and made a note. For the best part of two hours the three searchers after mystery patrolled the square. Bravington grew very fidgety. He-kept looking at his At last he gave a broad hint to his friend that he had had enough. "They're not going to oblige us to-night, Dick, old man. And besides, if the constable has seen it, do we really want confirmation?" He had only just finished speaking when the 'detective gripped Temple's arm, and pointed his finger at the dismantled house. The four men turned their gaze upon it, and sure enough, a light was .moving in the front room on the top story. The blinds in all the other rooms had been removed, but. from these particular windows they had not been taken down. By the movement of the light something or somebody was roaming about in what had, no doubt, been a servant's bedroom. "By Jove," cried Temple. "There it is, sure enough." / Even the sceptical Bravington was moved. If he had hesitated to believe the constable's story, he could not resist the evidence of his own senses. .. Temple was a man of action. "There's just a chance the mysterious thing may come out. I will pop over the other side and stay at one end. You, Bravington, come with me and stay at the other. You, gentleman, watch from this side and follow us if you see anything." The light moved about for a few -minutes, then vanished. Temple stood before the door of No. 6, Bravington before that of No. 8, so that if any figure came out, it could be intercepted either to the left or right. As soon as the light had disappeared the detective and constable came round from the other side of the square. Then Smeaton beckoned the others to the door of No. 6, and spoke in a low voice to Temple. "I should like to spend a few minutes in going over the house. Five got a small pocket lantern. Brown, go down the area steps and undo the latch of the kitchen window, we'll get in through there. Come up when you've done it, and stay here whilst we are inside. When the constable on the beat comes, tell him what we are up to, and tell him to stand by in case we should want him." .In a couple of minutes the three men were inside the front kitchen, Smeaton cautiously exploring the room with his pocket lantern. "Nothing here but beetles," he remarked' as he made for the door. "There's another room, a second kitchen or breakfast-room, at the back. We'll go through the place floor-by floor." IW pushed open the door of the back room and raised hia lantern on high. At the back of the house there was not the same need for caution. He swept it round the room from corner to corner, and then suddenly gave an exclamation of horror, as his glance rested upon something lying' in the middle of the floor. "Murder has been done here to-night," he said excitedly. "Look, gentlemen, at what is lying there." He turned the light full upon the ghastly thing huddled up. The two men recoiled with faces that had gone white at thtj terrible spectacle. A woman's form clad in evening dress lay perfectly still upon the wooden boards. A light . cloak had fallen from her shoulders, and there was a deep knife wound in her bare chest, from which blood was still welling. Smeaton knelt over her and laid his hand upon her heart. It had ceased to beat.

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•'The poor creature is dead," he said solemnly. "And she seems quite young. This is a foul piece of work." CHAPTEE VI.—AN EXPLANATION. The detective was a man of action. The poor girl was dead; he could do nothing for her. He ran swiftly up the area steps, and found Brown chatting to the constable on duty, whom he had detained, according to his chief's instructions. "Murder has been done in this house," he explained briefly to two men. "There is a dead woman lying on the kitchen floor. You, Brown, come with me at once and watch tlhe back of the house. The body is still warm; the murderer may have had time to escape; on the other hand, he may still be in hiding." Then he turned to the man in uniform. "Blow your whistle, and get tlhe man who comes to 'phone at once for an ambulance. Brown, come with me." -While Smeaton was talking with the two constables, Bravington and Temple had approached the still form lying there in the awful palor of death. Both men were absolutely unnerved in t/he face of the unforeseen tragedy. Bravington felt sick, absolutely sick. On his own battleship he would have stood -unmoved the hurtling of shells, the swift and sudden death that comes in war. But -he could not stand the sight of this poor creature, hurried to her end by the foul hand of a midnight assassin. Temple was moved too, but he was a writer of mystery stories, and the gruesome appealed to him in a modified degree. He took the lantern that the detective had left behind hint and flashed it over the still form of the murdered woman. He recoiled with a sudden start, and he felt every limb trembling. Little had he thought, when he set out on his journey to-night, half in jest, chiefly from a desire to oblige an old school friend, that he would be confronted with such tragic consequences 1 .. Bravington noted his emotion. He had. not wanted' to approach the dead form hiimself, and his friend's agitation exhibited emotion out of the common. "What's the matter, old man?" he asked anxiously. . . Temple tried to speak calmly. Jim, it is simply terrible. I recognise the face, which will never smile any more.. A short time ago I was in love with her. Her name is Ellen Deane." _ , Bravington was sympathetic at once. Was he not in love himself with the adorable, elusive Lilian Paske? .His friend had been in love with this poor girl, foully done to death. He laid his hand upon his shoulder. It was a strong, resolute hand. . Temple felt the better braced by the touch. "Steady Dick; pull yourself together. If it will ease you, tell me what you like." Bat not if you don't want t 0.",. Temple grasped the hand of his old school-fellow. "You're a rattling good sort, Jim,. I will tell you everything later or to-morrow*, but not just now. And Smeaton will be back in a second And, of course, 1 must tell him that I know who the poor child is. She .18 little more than a child; she is only a little over twenty." ',,'•. i + Bravington nerved himself to look at the still "figure. She was well developed for her age, but Temple had spoken truly. She was quite a young girl. _ § The journalist shook his fist in impotent rage, and his voice was hoarse with 'emotion. '- ~, . .-n "By heaven, Jim, I will never rest till I have tracked ,her murderer. To lure a gdrl into this empty house, and then 'kill her It is the work of a fiend. You see, she is in evening dress. The beast, the devil whoever he is. had taken her to ' dinner first and then brought her on here, to complete his dastardly scheme." "And what do you think was his motive?" asked Bravington. He felt terribly at sea in these tragic circumstances. "Heaven knows! Anyway, she is the victim of a scoundrel." . He knelt down beside the still form, and spoke with a sob in his voice. Dick Temple was not the light, gay member of the "Junior Scribes" now. He was a man, stirred to the depths of his being; He forgot, for >the moment, his friends presence. , tl "My poor little Nellie," he moaned. J. was angry with you, and went away. did I not look after you better? You were left in my charge and I abandoned it And vou fall into other hands, and this is the* - end. Poor little wayward, impulsive child. I have much to answer Smeaton. the detective, came back with Brown, the constable in plain clothes. Temple heard their footsteps as they clattered down the are;*- steps. He rose from his recnmbenf position, where, for a moment, he had knelt by the side of the murdered girl, and mastered his emotion. Bravington was a good chap, and a gentleman, and he could be trusted to keep silence. Tn his presence he did not muid wearing his heart upon his sleeve. With these two men it was another matter. But he must be frank to a certain extent. Smeaton, full of the excitement of tJhe chase, the dogged persistence of the sleuthhound, explained vehemently. "We must follow this up without the delav of a moment. Mr -Temple. Brown will watch at the back. The constable on dutv is watching in front. And we will overhaul this house from cellar to garret. If the murderer is within these four walls we will catch him." _ And Temple spoke very quietly. He had already formed his own theory. "As'you sav, Smeaton, we will search this house from cellar to garret. But, take my word for it, the murderer is not within' these four wall?. He would be a very bad sort of bungler if he were." The professional detective looked at. the amateur with a sharp glance. "Hang it. he cried; "the lights "were moving about only a few minutes ago. He can hardly have had time to escape. Anyway, he must be near."

Temple smiled enigmatically, hxrt he did

not speak for a few seconds. Then he said very quietly : "You have got your two watchdogs, one in the front and one in the back, and we are going to search the house ourselves. Well and good. But there is something I want to tell you." (To be Continued.)