THE GREEN BUNGALOW

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 409, 18 July 1928, Page 5

THE GREEN BUNGALOW

BY A POWERFUL WRITER.

Fred M. White.

Author of " The Crimton Bfind.” " The Cardinal Moth." “ The Home on the River," Ate., &c.

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS CHAPTERS I and II —Hilton Blythe, // birth and breeding, accomplished •'Windier and card-sharper, has lived on us wits for many days at a stretch, and s a world-experienced man. At the • Metropolitan Hotel, Brighton, he sees, jdter an interval of three years, a ladv la vender, and recognises that Nettie £ (| u le t grow “ U P- With her is a man. Harley, lately come into an unexpected fortune. They commune as lovrs and are happy. Roy tells her that bought a steam yacht, and intends to go yachting with Shute. Nettie that she is amanuensis to Shute, n° possesses the Green Bungalow at •n°reh av e n , and that she goes there , ?T*£ nornins:s - Ro >* replies that he is rf there this evening to play poker, TH wR h Prest and Andrew Macglendy. iff* pass ollt and Proceed to the Brighton Golf Rinks, where they sit down on the hillside. After 0 o’clock SS 6 * calls on Macglendy. at 201 BrunsJEf? Square. Brest and Shute are aloiTl y w there. The four men motor to jnorehayen beach. They dismiss the car iha- to the bungalows. They make nr!« Way to a building a. hundred yards , apart from its fellows. Shute does hat honours at the Green Bungalow. Rov wfc? . ady bought to packs of cards at eston s . They play poker for £SO rises. wi ns all along the line. Macdrops out afier a while, and ujh, ds watching the others. He accuses O f Playing with marked cards. Roy strongly repudiates. Maori® r y f J*rther accuses Harley of conanng the ace of spades in his pocket, confounded, puts his hand in his it'/ Ke t and draws forth the ace of spades swears that he never put it there, a ™ APTI::RS 111 and IV.—Hilton Blythe rmtJP peel's the Hotel Metropolitan. Once t“e overhears the conversation beW w Netti . e and Roy. Her lover tells l out his misfortune, and the marked . .Prest has told him to resign his and to cease to be a membis clubs. Nettie suggests that Macglendy and Shute have dethpir 5 n oy They go outside to finish Lj= onver sation, while Blythe sums it comparing the scheme by which a ' hn :; has been hooked with the plot of of tv* *? e has r * ad - Hay Shute a copy book? Andrew Macglendy and ‘ lovftr Wr r' trodden wife a re at present in lav- In their luxurious dwelling he W down law to her. He is a halfGlaso.s2 Ssl ?£?*- Jew ’ wh ° learnt English in door "ben he hears Shute at the men *2.® orders bis wife off. The two ustae business—smuggrling- and th#t r. * ey and bis steam-yacht for Plan P'Mlb oß6 After detailing his whole hav*»n° lac &lendy, Shute taxis to Shorelow rrf nd ' Va^s thence to his bungaiftir a -rbere he finds a man sitting readBlvtS-. ye [ ,W backed book. It is Hilton a rtf?;. who sa ys that he is reading HouSu*• ® toi ;y called “ The Lonely and n’ * and Shute is to sit down Wish Jo any fuss. If Shute wishes to defy Hilton—well Blythe P^t AND Vl.—Shute rages; discuss S » ts ' T ben Shute sits and they thf?d SS n A € ‘ r *" s Blythe is to take onahis ’ *. n , d bints that he has a scheme of own which may prove profitable.

Hu begs the loan of a pack of cards. Shute directs him to the e ard-table drawer. Blythe helps himself. He takes another cigar and sets off to walk back to Brighton. He has made: a startlingdiscovery with those cards which W'ill have an important effect on the fortunes of Roy Harley. At the end of the Palace Pier Nettie and Roy are seated in the glass shelter. Blythe places himself so that he can overhear their conversation. Roy says that i 'rest is adamant. Be has given Harley a month in which to send in his papers and resign his clubs. Hilton Blythe takes his cards to Weston's shop, and handing an assistant a pack says he wants another like that one. The man tells him they cannot supply these cards because they are of the finest Japanese make, used by cardsharpers often, on account of the ease by which they could be marked. Blythe produces another pack which the assistant says was bought at their shop. He recognises their private mark. He will be having a few more packs like them very shortly. Blythe promises to come back a few days hence. He knows what to do.

CHAPTER VIII.—THAT NIGHT AT SHORBHAVEN.

Blythe had more or less thrust himself into the confidence of Mark Shute, but not for a moment was he trusting to that rascally individual, or his equally shady acquaintance, Macglendy. He knew perfectly well that both of these would throw him over and defy him at the first opportunity, and it was up to him, therefore, to see that the opportunity did not arise. He had his underground methods of obtaining information, and when he left the Metropolitan Hotel about half-past nine the same night, he had a quite definite object in view. He came down from his bedroom in the lift, and stole quietly out of the hall with his coat collar turned up, so as to escape observation. To outward appearance he was in evening dress, but under his light overcoat was a workmanlike reefer suit of serge, and, in the pockets of his coat, he carried a pair of stout shoes, shod with india-rubber. He turned his steps westward and stopped, first of all, at the corner of Brunswick Square. Turning into the square, he knocked at the door of 201, and inquired from the foreign-looking servant as to whether Mr. Shute happened to tie with Mr. Macglendy. In reply, he was told that Shute had been dining there that evening, but that some quarter of an hour before, the master

All Men’s Wear at Bert Marshall’s.

of the house and his guest had gone off somewhere in the motor.

“Very annoying,” Blythe said. “I have come down from London to see Mr. Shute on most important business. I must see him this evening at all hazards. I suppose you didn’t happen to know where they have gone. If you can tell me, I shall be glad.” As Blythe spoke, he produced a scrap of paper from his ticket-pocket aud displayed what appeared to be a Treasury note. The servant grinned, and his expression became friendly. “I am not quite sure, sir,” he said. “But I rather fancy they have gone to Mr. Shute’s bungalow. But ” “That will do,” Blythe said. “That’s all I want to know. I suppose I can get a taxi somewhere, can’t I? I know all about the bungalow. I’ve been there before.” With that, the piece of paper changed hands, and Blythe turned on to the front, where he was fortunate enough to pick up a taxi, which whirled him as far as Shorehaven, where he got out, and bade the driver wait.

“I may be an hour, I may he more,” he said. “But there is a pound note to go on w| i. If you can’t wait for me, then run back to Brighton, and send another cab here.” “Oh, I can wait for you all right, sir,” the driver said. “It’s always a pleasure to do anything for a gentleman like you.” Blythe crossed the shingle and, skirting round the • lonely green bungalow, made his way over the high shoulder of sand and stone until he came at length to the cutting, where he could make out a small floating landing-stage resting on the water. It was possible to put a boat in there, even at low tide, with perfect safety, and without the slightest chance c observation. No doubt Shute had been right when he told Blythe that this secret landing-place had been constructed during the course of the war, at the time when the bungalow was in the occupation of the military, and, doubtless, that tiny jetty had w nessed more than one strange sight. It was only a matter of a few yards from the jetty to the back of the bungalow, along a hollow channel with the shingle piled high on either side, so that Blythe, with all his professional instincts aroused, realised with a frank admiration what an ideal spot this was for the purpose that Shute had in view. He was still studying the ground carefully, under the shadow of the gloom, when suddenly out of the darkness and intense silence that reigned all round, came a single mournful cry that BB'tlie recognised as the call of the curlew. Instantly he pricked up his ears. He did not need to be told that there was not a single curlew within ten miles Shorehaven Beach, so he stepped back behind a huge boulder, prepared "When Tour Heart is in the Game,” There is pleasure in the task, You may play for gain or fame But a win is all you ask. “When Your Heart is in the Game,” You can victory assure; And in curing colds the same With Woods’ Great Peppermint Cure.

to watch patiently for further developments. It was a long time before anything happened again, and Blythe's patience was nearly exhausted when he made out a tiny point of flame, so small as to be almost invisible, that came, no doubt, through a hole in the shutter at the back of the bungalow. No sooner had this appeared than the cry of the curlew was heard once more, and the pinpoint of light vanished.

“Now we shall see what we shall see,” Blythe muttered.

He had not long to wait, for almost immediately those quick ears of his made out a sound of footsteps coming from the bunaglow in the direction of the beach, and then against the dim background of hazy light reflected on the sky from the street lamps of Brighton appeared two figures that Blythe rightly guessed to be those of Macglendy and Shute. He could heai them muttering to themselves as the passed him, and made their way tc the head of the jetty where they stopped as if waiting for something to happen.

It was no part of Blythe’s game to betray his presence there, so he sat crouched close behind thg boulder,

waiting for the next scene in the drama. It came presently in the form of a motor-boat which pulled up in absolute silence alongside the landin. stage, and, after a short interval, Macglendy and his companion reappeared carrying something that looked like small sacks in their hands.

It was quite clear what was happening. The motor-boat, equipped with the very last thing in the way of a silencer, had evidently put oil fi’om a yacht somewhere in the offing, with one or two bags of the precio saccharine, and the cry of the curlew had been the signal to those tv. waiting in the bungalow, that the stuff was close at hand. It was all s quiet that even Blythe, listening intently, could not hear the boat pu

again, but it seemed to him that he could just make out the faint white line of her bows as she tacked before turning out to sea. He waited until Shute and Macglendy had dis appeared, then he turned and followed. He was just in time to catch the other two up before they closed the door behind them. He heard Macglendy cry out, and the next momen; he was fighting for his life. They were both upon hint in-

stantly, one of them clinging about his knees, while the other had hin by the throat. This was not the fir. time, by any means, that Blythe ha found himself in a tight place, and h had not come down to that lonely spo to confront two absolutely reckless antagonists without being prepared. He managed presently to twist his right arm free, and work it into his coal pocket. Then he raised his arm and an instant later Shute .became painfully conscious of the fact that a smr cold circle was being pressed tightly under his right ear. "I think you had better drop it,” Blythe said as coolly as he could. “If you don’t, I shall press the trigger, and subsequent proceedings will interest j’ou no more.”

This came under Blythe’s breath, but there was no mistaking the grimness of the threat, and instantly Shute relaxed his hold. Blythe managed to kick himself free of Macglendy, then he turned and faced the pair of them calmly enough. “Don’t you think we had better go inside?” he suggested. “It’s long odds that there is no one within a mile of us, but then you never can tell. Open the door.”

Shute complied meekly enough, and led the way into the sitting room, which was furnished like the cabin of a yacht, and turned on the lights. He tossed the sack he was carrying on to the table, and savagely turning on Blythe, demanded to know what he meant by this strange line of action of his.

“IVe’ll come to that presently,” Blythe said. “My dear man, do you suppose that you and your pals here can do anything without my finding out! Why, you couldn’t cross the street without my knowing all about it. Besides, the arrangement was that I was to come into this thing and have a third share. You promised me a day or two ago that I was to come down here when the next lot of stuff was landed. And, here you are, sneaking off in the dead of night behind my back, trying to rob a poor, hard-work-ing man of his reward. lam ashamed of you, Shute.”

“Here, what is that?” Macglendy cried. “Good Lord, it’s Hilton Blythe. Hilton Blythe. Hilton Blythe.” Macglendy repeated the name as if it had been a sort of talisman or thing of ill-omen of which he stood in mortal fear. He dropped every trace of his Scottish accent.

“That’s right, my cunning little Jew boy,” Blythe laughed. “And so your own confederate hasn’t told you the story, has he? How on earth do you chaps expect to succeed when you don’t even trust one another? I am sorry to disturb you, Moses, but there is no getting rid of the sad fact that