The Jewels Of Sin

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 734, 6 August 1929, Page 5

The Jewels Of Sin

By

Bernard Rowthorne.

Author of ** The Ciaws of the Dragon.”

CHAPTER XIX. Zita Barrymore did not reply, and the black continued softly. “Perhaps a note to your friend, Mr. Mallinson, would be sufficient; but if not ” As he broke off an evil leer came on his black face, and as lie looked at her his dark eyes seemed to grow blood-red, like the eyes of a dog in certain lights. “And if not?” asked the girl. ‘‘There are other forms of persuasion,’’ said Lobengo, with a softness that seemed full of menace. “You have beautiful lips from which a man might sip honey ” “Oh!” cried Zita indignantly, in a voice that, was shaking with apprehension. “How dare you? Flow dare you ?’* Down at Plum Wharf Mr. Bill Simmons was garrulous. “Knew I’d fiud that there launch, Mr. Mallinson; an’ I found it as easy as winking. Come along this morning it did, up the Reach an’ waited here over an hour for that nigger. Soon as it comes, I gets a waterman chum of mine to drop me down river in his boat till we was well past Limehouse, an’ then we hung about waiting for it to come’ back. It was a goodish bit before it did so, an’ more nor once I had the idea that we had overshot the mark, and was just about to go back a bit up river, when Jim, who had a glass with him, shouts out: “There she heaves! Drivin’ like the devil!” He hands me the glass, an’ sure enough. I saw the launch, wi’ two yellow rings on her funnel, racing as if she’d burst her boiler, an’ pouring out a plume of smoke a quarter of a mile long.” “She ain’t going to stop for a bit, Jim, I says. Push on!” “We vowed on, two of us, an’ in about four minutes, the launch was running by us, an’ we could see that nigger sitting in the stern. We didn't make no attempt to keep up wi* them, which would ha’ been plumb foolish; but Jim kept his glass on the launch, an’ about a quarter of a mile down river, saw' it sweep in shore an’ pull up at an old house wot’s been untenanted for two or three years, place known as ‘Fair Lawn,* though the Ford knows why, for there ain’t nothing fair about it, it being just a Godforsaken. tumble-down sort o’ place that ought to be pulled down. We waited a bit, then we rowed down an’ Passed the place, an’ sure enough, there was the launch tied up to a rotten wharf there is at the end o* the

garden; and quite plainly at the back o’ the bushes was the nigger walking up au’ down wi’ a big lumberin’ sort o’ chap—a white man. They looked at home, so I reckon on ‘Fair Lawns’s’ the show you’re wanting.” “Yes.” said Mallinson, gravely, “I think it is.”

“1 didn’t stop to see no more,” continued Simmons, “for just abaht then up comes a tug with a skipper wot Jim knew, so we takes a tow back to Wappin’ an' I bolts to the telephone office to claim that five pounds, which I guess I’ve earned.” “No doubt whatever about that,” answered Mallinson, taking out his note-case and counting out the money, “is there a launch to be had about here? I want to go down to ‘Fair Lawn’ and have a look at the place.” “Thank you, sir,” said Bill Simmons. "If you'll wait I'll get hold of a boat for you an’ run down wi’ you an’ show you the house.” “I shall bo greatly obliged,” answered the novelist. Half an hour later Simmons returned with a launch, an antique affair, whose engine rattled like a smithy-shop, but which was yet sufficient for the journey. Presently they came in sight of the solitary house with the garden running down to the shore, and, against the private wharf, saw moored the black tug with the two streaks and bands of yellow. “That's ‘Fair Lawn.’ ” said Bill Simmons, “an’ the man wot christened it must have bin blind.” “Don't stop,” said Mallinson. “Go slowly past, but not too close in. I don't want anyone who may happen to be there to notice us.” As his order was obeyed, and the launch crept by the desolate place, Mallinson took careful note of it, anil as he did so, owned to himself that Simmons’ remark was not uncalled for. Whatever it might look like on a bright day, with the wind blowing up from the sea, and the suu shimmering on the river, under the leaden sky, “Fair Lawn” with its neglected garden, its peeling paint-work, and its blind windows, looked utterly forlorn. Except for a little drift of smoke from oue of its chimneys and the launch moored to the rotting wharf, there was no suggestion that the place was occupied. There was no one visible either in the garden or about the wharf, and but for the two signs indicated, “Fair Lawn” might have been no more than the derelict house it seemed. “Run down the river a little way,” ordered Mallinson, “and stop at the first landing-stage. I want to see the landward side of the house.” Rather more than a quarter of a mile below they found the desired wharf, and giving instructions for the launch to wait, the novelist landed and began to make his way back to the mysterious house. After a little time he reached the neighbourhood of it. and from behind a draggled hedge looked on the tear of “Fair Lawn.” It was. he found, surrounded by a high stone wall. The wall was broken in

one or two places, and a high wooden gateway, wide enough to admit carriage, seemed to be the only entrance from the rear. He considered the place carefully, twice shifting his position in the hope of discovering something. He had no luck, however, though from one of his vantage points, through one of the breaks in the Avail, he was able to see a couple of dirty windoAVS behind Avhich, ho ay eA'er, there was no sign of life. Having reconnoitred, crouching in his place of concealment, he gave himself up to consideration of the situation. He had little doubt that in the house, so misnamed, Avas the girl Avhom he Avas seeking, and Lloav to get her out was the problem Avhich exercised his mind. It Avas impossible to go to the police Avithout involving both himself and the girl in explanations that might bring deep trouble to Miss Barrymore, while it Avas equally impossible to alloAV her to remain in the place Avitliout some personal assurance of her welfare. If, as he was certain, she had been lured to this forlorn riverside house for some nefarious purpose, it Avould be worse than useless to go openly to the door and inquire for her. He Avould no doubt be answered by a flat denial of any knowledge of the girl and at the same time would give the information to lier enemies thafc her friends yere in pursuit and on the track. It Avas, he Avas convinced, equally useless to attempt a surreptitious entrance to the house in open daylight. Before he reached the place his coming Avould be seen by anyone who might be on the watch, and it Avould be impossible for him to do anything once he had been discovered. There remained nothing for it but to Avait for darkness, and then, choosing his time, endeavour, to effect an entrance. CoiiA'inced that this Avas the only possible course, he left his place of concealment and made his way back to the wharf, Avliere the launch awaited him. When lie reached it he made iiis dispositions for the interval that must elapse before the hour of darkness came, hiring the owner of the launch to Avatch the house from the river at a discreet distance, that he might report the comings and goings from the wharf, and engaging Simmons to keep an eye on the landAvard side. “If either of you sees a girl leaA'c the place. lolloav her; and Avhen you have learned her destination telephone to me at the earliest moment. You understand?” “Yes, sir!” “It is A'ery important that the girl should not slip away unobserved, and I shall depend on you to keep a bright look out.” “Don’t you worry, governur,” said Simmons, “a cat shan’t leave that house Avitliout either me or Joe here spotting it.” “Then at half-past six—it will be dark by then —you meet me here at the Avharf to report, both of you.” “We’ll be here!” ansAvered Simmons, and assured that the Avatch was in capable hands, he made his Avay to Plum Wharf, found Tompkins, and returned to Tavistock Square. Arri\'ed there he took the taxidrrver into his confidence. “I mean to get into that house tonight. Tompkins, and if Miss Barrymore is being kept there against her will, to bring her out at all costs!” “If the nigger an’ company are in the house it’ll be a middling dangerous job, Mr. Mallinson. They’re not a crowd Avot's going to be too particular with the riA'er so handy for dumping a dead man in.” “No,” Mallinson laughed. “But the risk has got to be taken, and if you will stand in with me. and keep the landAvard side of the house, while

Bill Simmons watches from the garden, I don’t think there will be very much to fear.” “Oh, I stand in right enough, Mr. Mallinson,” answered Tompkins, “and I hope you’ll get the lady away without trouble. What time will you want the taxi, sir?” "About five. That will give me time to run down to the wharf and gather any news before we begin operations.” “Right, sir.” Promptly at half-past six, with darkness deepening around, and a slight mist creeping up the river, they arrived at the wharf to And Simmons and his friend awaiting them. The former had nothing to report, but the launch owner brought the information that twenty-flve minutes earlier the yellow-banded launch had gone upstream, taking with it a big fellow. “The Dutchman!” Mallinson commented. “That means that probably only the black and the woman are left in the house. Things could not have happened better. I’m going back to the house now, and T mean to enter it over the wall. If the black and his friends are at all suspicious, it is the riverside they are the most likely to watch. Tompkins will go with me, and stand his taxi a little way from the house, and if you two can manage it, I'd like you to take the launch as near the edge of the garden as possible, as I may have to leave the place in a hurry, and the river may happen to bd the most convenient.” “We’ll take the launch slap up to the wharf, if you like, sir,” said Simmons. “No. Die this side of it, in case the Dutchman’s launch should return. And keep your ears open. If I go out the back way, Tompkins will give three long hoots on his horn and one short one, which will tell you that all is well, and that you can return to Plum Wharf, while if I go the river way you can whistle the same way from the launch, and Tompkins will know that there is no need to wait longer. Is that clear?” “Three long hoots and a short one, and the same with the launch whistle. I reckon we can remember that much, sir. Good luck go with you.” Ten minutes later, as he left the taxi, Tompkins asked him a question:—“How long am I to wait, before butting in?” “Half an hour at least, Tompkins. After that it may be advisable to learn what has happened.” “I don’t think you ought to go alone,” whispered Tompkins. “They are a desperate lot —” “One will be better than two.” interrupted Mallinson. “A single man is less likely to make a noise than two. You remain here, ready. If I should call for help, you can come to me.” “Right, sir, but I’d sooner go with you than remain here twiddling my Angers, and wondering wot's happening." “I daresay you would. You’re a good sort, Tompkins, aud if it were desirable I'd sooner have you with me than any man I know. But this time I go over the top alone.” With a little laugh, Gerald Mallinson slipped away in the darkness, and after a few minutes found himself by one of the breaches in the wall. Standing on some of the fallen stones, he peeped over. Apparently the garden surrounded the house, and after listening a moment, aud finding all was still, he mounted the broken wall, and dropped down on the further side. There he remained for a little while, listening again. No sound of move-

ment reached him, and, assured that his advent had passed unnoticed, and draAving an automatic pistol from his pocket and holding it ready for action, he began to creep toAvard the house. Presently he Avas quite close to it, and, looking about him, observed a door set in a small porch. All the rear of the house was in darkness, but before trying the door or any of the windoAvs it seemed to him to be advisable to ascertain Avhat Avas the position on the further side of the house. Accordingly, he began to creep round, but a minute later was deflected from his purpose by the sight of a French window, one half of which stood open. He stared at it unbelievingly for a moment, the thing seeming too good to be true. It Avas in utter darkness, and after a feAV seconds, the opportunity being too good to be missed, he slipped through the open window, and inside the house at last, jstood listening. CHAPTER XX. In the moment Avhen Lobengo threatened her and she cried out to him in indignation, Zita Barrymore Avas terribly afraid. There Avas something about this smooth-spoken, cultured black that made her soul shake Avithin her, and as he stood there smiling and marking the effect of his Avords she avos conscious of a growing horror. A moment later the re<£ glow Avas in liia dark-pupilled eyes again—a light strangely baleful. “A man might forget many things for you,” he said smoothly, “even diamonds. And though you lniA r e not brought the diamonds, yet you have brought us yourself, and you are welcome, very welcome! How Avelcome I will shoAv you, my dear.” He took a step forward and another, and though she did not flee, since he Avas betAveen her and the door, she shrank back, nameless fears plucking at her heart. . “You did not like me,” he said, pausing in his approach. “My dark skin perhaps. But there are great passions in black hearts. You will remember Othello the Moor, an| lioav he IoA - ed and Avas loved by the uieautiful Desdemona. It is the classic story of the dark skin and the Avliite, but you and I together might outvie ” Ho broke off and took another’ step forward. The red light was still in his eyes, the soft smile on his dark face, and to the girl he seemed the \ r ery impersonation.,of evil. She shrank back a step and cried out in a sudden surge of horror. “No! No!” “Yes! Yes!” he retorted quickly, Avithout pausing in his advance. The girl Avas in a corner of the room, and there AA’as for her no escape. Then suddenly he made a quick move, and his uninjured arm imprisoned her. She struck at him madly with her small fists, and the black laughed like a man drunk Avith delight. His dark face bent over her lily-Avhite one, and the thick protruding lips Avere A'ery near her own. Then like a bird in the snare of the fowler, she gave a cry of utter anguish. The next moment the door A\ : as flung open, and into the room came Isabella Van Terkamp. A sAvift Avrath came into her dark eyes as she took in the scene, and the next moment she had slipped a small automatic pistol from the folds of her gown, and Avas pointing it at the black. “John Lobengo,” she said sharply, “release that, girl.” “Why?” asked the black, looking at her—his eyes opening in a laugh which shoAved his white teeth. “I shall not tell you why. Nor shall I tell you again. I shall count three, and then I shall fire if you have not released her, and you know what kind of shot I am.” “Shoot away,” said the black sneeringly. “if you dare.” “Orfe!” counted Isabella Van Terkamp, and there was a dangerous ring in her A'oice. The sneer died from Lobengo’s face, j It was clear that he Avas hesitating, and a little uncertain Avliat to do; but j he still kept his arm around the i shrinking girl, while he measured her j protector with wrathful eyes.

“Two!” snapped the woman. “Don’t be a fool, Isabella.” cried the black. “If ” “Three!” came the interruption, and before the word was completely spoken Lobengo’s arm was by his side. “Ah!” said the woman, “I thought you would not be so foolish as to force my hands.” Lobengo stood where he was and his eyes grew stormy, while he seemed to have difficulty in controlling the muscles of his face. Suddenly he broke out in a stream of invective so terrible that Zita Barrymore lifted her hands to her ears to shut out the sound of it. As the black talked his passion seemed to mount, apd he shook in a very paroxysm of rage. He lifted his black fist and shook it at the woman who had intervened between him and his desire, and who held the whip-hand, and he threatened her with horrors that would have made most women faint. But Isabella Van Terkamp stood there almost unmoved. Her face was quite calm, and only the blazing light of the dark eyes revealed that Lobengo's studied insults reached her at all. Then, as the man continued his stream of vileness, she checked it suddenly. ‘Leave the room!” she said sharply. “Not I.” shouted Lobengo. “I have ” “This time 1 shall not count three. You will go now or ” A little jerk of the pistol gave emphasis to her words. It was very clear that her hinted threat wasn’t bluff, and that she would carry it out if the man lingered another moment. Lobengo himself must have felt that, for, with a snarl of rage, he started to leave the room. At the door he

turned round and shouted in mad •wrath: “Y'ou shall pay for this. The word he used was a vile one. It stung to the quick the woman to whom it was addressed, and the pistol cracked suddenly. But Lobengo had perhaps anticipated the shot, for just as it was fired he leaped back, jerking the door to behind him, and the bullet crashed into the jamb. “Oh!” cried Zita Barrymore, shivering. “That is a terrible man. How can 1 tell you how grateful I am ” “Please don’t try. Miss Barrymore,” she said, jerking the spent shell from the pistol. "Take this—l have another one —and if Lobengo attempts to touch you again, use it promptly. Don’t hesitate. I know that man and for you it is the only way. Take it. Conceal it in a handy place. Quick! We go to see your brother.” At the last words, Zita Barrymore, who had felt as if she must faint, pulled herself together. “My brother!” she cried. "Y’es! There is no need for any further concealment. Lobengo must guess that I have definitely joined you, and there is not any need for beating about the bush. Come, we will go to Jack. But you must not be surprised or too much alarmed at the sight of him. Y’ou must not expect too much. I do not think he will be able to talk to you; but we must devise some scheme for getting him away from here before my estimable brother-in-law returns, and while only Lobengo is in the place. I wish I had shot him when I tried to. It would have made matters more simple.” Of the truth of the last remark, Zita Barrymore had her doubts, but she did not express them. Already she owed the woman too much to quarrel with her opinions, and she was clearly so capable that the girl was prepared to follow all her decisions. As Isabella Van Terkamp approached and I took her arm. she looked at her gratefully. and suffered herself to be led

from the room. When they reached the landing the black was nowhere to bo seen, and with a little laugh to herself, the woman led her along the gallery t<> a locked room, from behind came the sound of a babbling voice. “Poor Jack!” whispered Isabella Van Terkamp. “He rambles. That vile Lobengo has been up to his evil tricks : once more.” There was a key in the lock, and turning it, the woman stepped into the room, followed by Zita who, on her guide's word, closed the door behind her. Then the girl looked round. The room was poorly furnished. A couple of bedroom chairs, a small table, or. which stood a cheap paraffin lamp and some medicine bottles, and a truckle bed were the only furniture. On th< bed tossing and babbling to himself was the figure of a man whose head was heavily bandaged, and whose worn face was covered with a stubbly beard. (To be continued daily)