THE NOVELIST

Otago Witness, Issue 3888, 18 September 1928, Page 74

THE NOVELIST

The Mystery Maker

By

SEAMARK

(Copyright.—For the Otago Witness.)

CHAPTER IX—(Continued.) Hawker relapsed into a savage silence. All his boiling anger and spitfire resentment cooled away. This was a job that needed a bit of quiet thinking out. He had had quite enough liquid acid from headquarters for that day. True, the chief had been very nice and suave and polite over.the ’phone, but only Hawker knew how much concentrated caustic there was in those gently restrained sentences. He'had whipped Hawker with , verbal rods till he was mentally sore. And lie was in no mood to take a second dose. He turned away uncertainly, chewing at his lower lip. “ That’s better,” said Stayne - softly. “You’ve got to see reason in these things, old scout. You know as well as I do that your case wouldn’t stand two minutes’ cross-examination by a good lawyer. He would eat your ears, singe the hair off you. One can’t aid and abet a ma i who is officially under lock and key at Scrubs Prison. For all you know I had no knowledge that the man I was speaking to was any other than ■what he represented himself to be—Mr Harris, a traveller in the same line of business as Mr Daleson himself. What more natural than that the two should meet—having mutual business to transact? The fact that I am here is just another little joke on my part—another little example of the Mystery Maker’s natural aptitude for making mysteries that don’t even exist, or, at least, for getting himself innocently tangled up in those that do. “ And before you trot me round to Vine street there’s another little precaution that I’d advise you to take. I’m telling you for your own good. You’re not a bad old scout, Hawker, and I’d

hate to see you stepping into another muddy' puddle.” “ And what’s that ? ” growled Hawker. “Just this. First you thought I was Daleson, didn’t you? Then you thought Varris must be Daleson. Now I suggest that you go straight round to Daleson’s house and find out who he really is. You’ll be tickled.” The detective’s reply was a bad-tem-pered grunt. He was looking defeat in the face and knew it. With that grimly tolerant suggestion had come the realisation of Stayne’s extended bluff. Stayne had held him there a full 20 minutes before disclosing his identity. For the purposes *of pulling Hawker’s leg he might just as well have done it in two. That piece of backchat had been invented and sustained purely for the sake of holding him there, not merely so that Varris could get clear, but so that the Daleson identity could be transferred. “ You needn’t worry yourself,” he growled at last. “ I think I can form a pretty accurate estimate of who is wearing Daleson’s clothes by this time. Last time I saw him he was wearing a win-dcrW-cleaner’s rig, blast his hide.” He jammed his hat on the back of his head. “ Anyway,” he added as a raspily satisfied afterthought, “ I’ve clipped your wings a bit to-day, Mr Flybird. You' needn’t worry to use that underground entrance any more. I figured that one out, and there is a search warrant coming through. In future I’ll be able to keep my eye on you from both ends.”

Stayne bowed about 4in. “ I had a telephonic intimation to that effect,” he said. “ It’s a great pity, Hawker. You’ve driven me out of one of the nicest retreats in London. I shall miss it. But no doubt Tembridge will find another, maybe better one.” Hawker paused in the doorway. “ Tell me one thing,” he said. “ That face of yours. Landladies don’t usually include make-up outfits in their room furniture. How did you do it ? ” Stayne pulled a neat little silver case from his pocket and flipped it open. “ I always travel a little ‘ touch-up box with me,” he said. “ Never know when it’s going to come in handy. And always, when you’re travelling with your face made up, you need to pop in somewhere every now and then to_titivate it.” Hawker grunted again. That box was a good idea. It was no thicker than' a long, single-sided cigarette case. The paints were no bulkier than fat cigarettes, and there was a tiny silver compartment at the lower end for talc powder. “There are over a dozen good facial disguises in that case,” said Stayne. See these little.tubes? There’s a ent moustache and a pair of eyebrows to match in each. The tube opens length-

wise, and you just press them in. Pretty cute, eh? I’ll get Tembridge to make you out a drawing of them —you ought to find them quite useful.” “Go to hell,” said Hawker rudely, making-for the door. “ Oh —Hawker,” called Stayn e as the stocky figure passed through. “ Leave me in peace for the next hour or two, will you? I’m going over to Paris tonight, and I want to get a lot of pack ing done and odd jobs finished off.” “ Going to Paris, are you, my beauty? ” said Hawker over his shoulder. “ Now you just watch your step and see how far out of England you get t»night. I’m going right back to the Yard to have a consultation with the chief about this business.” Stayne rubbed his hands as he watched-him go. Stayne sat himself down at the mirror and rubbed the paint off on a towel. Then rapidly he applied some more, rubbing it with his finger-tips till it was all evenly distributed. A little touch of powder whitened his eyebrows, and then he took from one of the silver tubes a neatly trimmed little grey moustache and adjusted it on his upper lip. He listened at the door for a moment. Down below he could hear the quiet murmuring of voices, and he knew that Hawker was having a final talk with the landlady before leaving. Hurriedly he stripped off and tipped the contents of his pockets out on to the table. In the bedroom were all Varris’s suits, hastily left when the order to fly came through from Tembridge. He changed into one, and. because it did not fit any too well, climbed into a fairly full-chested tweed overcoat. From a half-dozen pairs of "loves he carefully selected a pair of dul l lemon hue. A final pat at the moustache to fix the gum, and he sauntered idly to the stairs, Marbury, head of th c Yard, to the life.

Hawker was gone when he got down, and the landlady was back in her little office under the stairs. Through tit? glass panels he caught sight of her, eyeing him with a puzzled look as he went along to the door. There was no alarm in her eyes, just a faint curiosity as to how he got in without her seeing him. Her clients were liable to have relatives and visitors calling at any hour of the day, and she was generally on duty to receive them in the entrance hall. This one seemed to have been admitted when she was not handy. She hurried forward to open the door for him. In the hall was a little wooden “In ” and “ Out ” frame. At the side of cine of the nanles, Mrs Hillyer, the small panel was drawn back, exposing the word “ In.” He raised his hat to the landlady as -she held the door open. “ Thank you, madam,” he said in that calm, politely restrained voice that was Marbury’s in every tone and inflection. “ I’m awfully pleased to see Mrs Hillyer looking so well. Your cuisine appears to be doing her a great deal of good.” A perfectly harmless and safe remark; one with a coriipliment in its tail. For. -had Mrs Hillyer been the most robust of feminine athletes or the sickliest creature on earth the praise of the food was applicable. The landlady smiled and almost blushed. Stayne passed on. At the first big haberdasher’s he stopped and purchased a black ebony cane, one with the largest ivory knob he could find. Lemon gloves and that famous ebony knobbed cane were the signs manual of Marbury, autocratic ruler of Septi and Yard;

He lunched at a swagger restaurant and received a respectful salute from the maitre as he took his place at table; Three others in the room recognised him and smiled. He nodded politely and ye tired into a “ brown ” study, an intimation that al] his friends understool. Marbury was not “ mixing ” to-day. There was.something on his mind, and he was going to puzzle it out over lunch. They left him severely alone, merely whispering his identity to the intensely interested’people at their own tables. From there he took a cab, to thc bottom of Curzon Square and idly walked up to Bb. CHAPTER X. Hawker jumpdd into his car and drove rapidly back to Scotland Yard. Marbury was in and hinted that he would see him as soon as Hawker cared to appear. The detective went-up, sourly aware that he was getting the raw end of the deal. He had worked day and night on the case, and had honestly done his best, conscious of the know-

ledge that he was getting very little help or encouragement from the higher authorities. He was working against handicaps that were intolerable. Facts against John. Stayne were sticking out a mile, and yet he hadn’t a scrap of real evidence on which to base an arrest. As often as he spoke of arrest to Stayne as often as a new opportunity presented itself of forcing the issue, Stayne came back with a completely unexpected reply that effectively checkmated him and broke up any hope on his part of lodging him behind prison bars. And all he got from the gods was a hoot and a sarcastic reference to the fact that even Varris was still at large.' He entered the room and laid his hat on the table. Marbury was writing, and he did not stop as his man came in. “Well, Hawker? What’s the alibi this time?” he asked gravelv. And Hawker chewed his lip. “ Chief,” he said. “ I want your permission to knock Stavne off. He’s running wild, playing the very devil. I know for a fact that he’s up to his eyes in this business —and I just can’t lav my hands on him. There’s enough evidence against him in this last two days to put him away for 12 years—and he’s still running around as perky as a sparrow. And I’m fed up with it I can’t get any further ahead while he stays out of gaol. All I want is per mission from here.” “Asking us to hold the babv, eh?” Marbury kept on writing, but the acid in his voice was chilled'with ice. Hawker reddened. “It isn’t that at all,” he said. “ I just want to feel that I’m not playing this hand alone. I want to feel there’s someone standing back of me. /“David Hawker, you have eight men detailed off to assist you. That is a team of nine, with you at the head. How manv more do you want?” “ You can have the lot,” said Hawker bluntly, “ for two good sliadowers and permission to arrest. John Stavne.” Marbury dabbed his pen in the ink. “ It occurs to me.” lie said smoothly, “that the arrest of John Stayne is the sole object of your present labours. What you mean is that, up to now. vou have not succeeded in getting sufficient evidence to warrant arresting him vourself ? ”

Hawker hesitated. That, in a nutshell, was exactly what it amounted to, but it was phrased about as coldly as one could well do it. The inspector bridled. That was about as much consideration as he had ever had on this case. The chiefs wanted results, all the time and always. Nothing but success, and quick success seemed to interest them.

“ It’s—it’s a bit difficult, chief,” he muttered. “ The blighter seems to be able to get news ahead of me. Just when I’ve got him all set for an arrest somebody sends him a mental wireless and he’s ready for me—and heaven alone knows where his scouts get the information from. I’ve got every end blocked up, none of my men is giving a word away. ■ But he seems to tap in every time.”

Marbury looked up for a moment. “ Exactly what have you against him up to now?” he inquired. Hawker leaned forward. “ Chief,” he sai(\ earnestly, “ I know for a fact that John Stayne was the man who assisted in the escape of Varris from Scrubs— Stayne and Tembridge. Stayne did the main job while Tembridge played chauffeur. I had the whole case mapped out, proved and complete, inside two hours. That means work, chief, when the ends lie as far apart as "Curzon square, the Strand Hotel, Scrubs Prison, two police courts, and two garages—one right out at Willesden. I had him photographically identified at every point by men who were ready to step forward and swear it in the witness box. Every single minute of his day was programmed, linked up and accounted for. We had him fixed, even to the number of "his own car out there at Willesden.” “Well? Why didn’t you arrest him ? ” “ T went round to Curzon square to do just that very thing. I told him what I had come for, and I actually ran over the formula. And then he pulled as fine a section of bull on me as I have ever sampled in my life. In less than an hour he had me flat and gasping. Chief, he pulled an alibi for each of the essential hours in turn, an alibi that was as watertight as a ship’s bulkhead. Get that, chief, an alibi—with the amount of evidence I had against him. The chief frowned at his writing pad. “ But, surely, we have broken through false alibis before? The method, I understand, is to trace the movements of the men who say they were with him—to <prove that they were elsewhere at the- time; and then run them for perjury.” “ That’s what I did, chief. But you don’t know the type of people Stayne had lined up against me. They weren’t any old down-and-out, Tom, Dick, and Harry bribed with a fiver to swear their souls away. They were ton notchers, people i the high lights of life; people you’d never dream would stand to it and tell the packs of downright deliberate lies that they told me at Curzon square. Told ’em flat faced, too, without a wink or a blush.” “ Who were they, Hawker ? ” “Mr Vane Calhoun, the Prime Minister’s private secretary; Major-general Stonehaugh. head of the Army Ordnance Department; and Sir Ardleigh Powers, who at this moment is the Under-sebre-tary of State for India. That’s the beautiful bunch I was up against. And

if you can believe that I’ll eat my uniform coat. Candidly, sir, where do I stand? Next time I go for him he’ll have half a dozen bishops strung out against me.” “ Sure you’re not on a case of mistaken identity ? ” “ I’ve got evidence in slathers. Even to the note he wrote-'to Dobey. Stayne worked it. And their three of the most honourable men in thc land stand to me and say they were actually in his company at a time when I know for a fact he was hocussing the gate gaoler at the Scrubs.” “ Did you work on the three gentlemen concerned?” ? “ Yes, I did. And they had even fixed up that end of it. I found to my own satisfaction that they had been talking in private offices with a man who passe;’ muster as John Stayne, that they had gone to the Treasurj' and had a long conference there, and that there was not the slightest doubt that Stayne and Sir Ardleigh Powers were undoubtedly lunching together at the Ship till t*hree o’clock. I can’t put men like that into the witness box! In spite of Stayne s record, no jury in the kingdom would believe the police evidence against their sworn word. Those men are in the Government. Stayne had me by the coat tails as soon as he shot that one at me.”

. “ You don’t expect me to step in and risk it, do you ? ” asked the chief, with heavy sarcasm. “If Stayne can tap people like that, who else is he going to invite into the box when he conies up for trial. Mr Hawker, I’ve put you out on the road to get evidence, not to come bleating to me for assistance on a job you’re quite capable of doing yourself.” “ I’m not bleating, chief.” There was keen resentment in Hawker’s voice. “ Only last night I thought I’d got him penned in; .thought I had him beautifully.” “Up to his old tricks?”

“ Stealing a passport.” The chief frowned again. “ Well, that’s serious enough, isn’t it?” he said. ‘ Looks as though he’s trying to get out of the country under an assumed identity.” “There was a raid at the Avalon Club, and Stayne was there ”

Marbury looked up sharply. “ Where? ” he jerked.

“At the Avalon, sir. Lynton took it.” “ That’s very queer.” Marbury was thinking hard, and his words came thoughtfully. “That '-'lion raid was an affair that went through after I.had left the office. There was a request fcit, I believe, from one of the Government Departments. They were looking for someone—a suspicious character or something—known to be in London.” “ Well, Stayne was there. He always is when there’s anything doing. Lord knows how he got wind of it, but he was there all right, pretending to be as drunk as a sailor after three months at sea. One of the members produced a passport in proof of identity, and Stayne stole it—barged against him and did the old ‘dips’ trick, wenUdown his pocket and got it before you could blink. Perrigo went after him, and ” “ Who ? ” Marbury wheeled in his chair.

“ A man named Perrigo. He was the owner of thc passport.” The chief was silent for some seconds. “ That’s extraordinary,” he breathed. “ Perrigo was the name of the man they .were keeping an eye off. Go on, Hawker, this is getting down to the bone.”

“ Well, Perrigo and Lynton went after him, yet when they got there the passport was gone. Stayne had passed it on; how, he alone knows. I got a search warrant for his house, and found less than nothing except that I know for a fact he has a secret entrance to it from a house at the back.” “Yes? Well? That’s not criminal.”

“ I went after him again thi§ morning. I got hold of information that Varris was staying at a boarding house in the Bayswater district. I had it* all set and mapped out. Stayne had gone by taxi to see him—that was the taxi call that I put through earlier this morning. I went round, and sure enough there were the two of them there together. Varris was staying there in the name of Harris, and he had taken rooms there about three hours after his escape from Scrubs. Stayne had booked them the day before and sent on some advance luggage—the ’cute devil! While I was talking to the landlady Stayne came down. I let him go. My man was outside, and I was anxious to establish a new connecting point on Stayne. Anywhere he went would eventually lead me to another clue. So I let him go, knowing that Varris was all alone and unsuspecting upstairs. We could rush Varris away, leaving Stayne in the dark as to what had happened.” * * * The chief nodded in quiet approval of the strategy employed. - Again Hawker leaned forward and impressed his superior with the earnestness of his voice. “Would you believe me, chief ? ” he said. “ When I got up to Varris it wasn’t Varris at all, but Stayne ? ” “Varris having given you the slip meanwhile in the guise originally worn by Stayne ? ” The old frosty note was back in the chief’s voice, though the words were as suave as oil. “ Yes, chief, that’s what happened. You can roast me all you like. It was a bad break, and I admit it. But Can you tell me how in the name of all that’s decent could I foresee a job like that. Hey? Was it possible? How was it possible for anyone to have got in ahead of me with a warning? How did anyone else know about it, to begin

(To be continued.)

with? I never took a single soul into my confidence on that job. I was going to tackle ’em both alone. I had my gun with me, and, by hokey, I’d have used it if they’d started any monkey tricks. The fact remains, chief—somehow Stayne got warning ahead that I was on the way. He must have beea warned as soon as I set out from Curzou square. He had time enough to ring the changes in those disguises and give Varris a lesson in how to walk with a simulated fallen arch.” “ If he had all that time, why didn’t the pair of them clear out at‘once?” “ That’s where the brute plays his super-cleverness. If he had cleared out right away he would have been left with the double job of parking Varris somewhere safe and getting rid of his own disguise without exciting notice, almost an impossible job to do in London. He knew it was useless going back to the secret house behind Curzon square, because I was already aware of the Daleson identity. I told him pointblank that I was getting a search warrant for the place. He kills two birds with one stone. And,” he added luefully, “I 11 say he held me there with a line of blather till Varris had had time to get clear.’”