SECRETS OF STATE

Sun (Christchurch), Volume II, Issue 593, 4 January 1916, Page 2

SECRETS OF STATE

BY WILLIAM LE QUEUX

\ CHAPTEE XXVII. THE EESULT OF INVESTIGATION. Arranging to meet later, the Secret Service officer lit his pipe and strolled quickly forward around the bend to follow the girl in grey, while the other two halted to allow them to get on ahead. "Have you ever seen that lady down here before, sergeant?" asked Walter j presently. '"Yes, sir. If I don't mistake it is the same lady as asked me the way to 'The Yews' soon after Mr Bailey took the house—the lady who came with the man that Bailey addressed as doctor." "Are you quite certain of this?" '' Not quite certain. She was dressed differently, in brown, with a different hat and a veil." "They came only on that one occasion, eh?" "Only that once, sir." "But why, I wonder, is she going to 'The Yews'? Pietro, you say, went to London this morning?" "Yes, sir, by the 9.5. And the house is locked up—she's evidently unaware of that." , "No doubt. She'll go there, and, finding-nobody at home, turn away disappointed. She must not see us." "We'll take good care of that, sir," laughed the local sergeant breezily, as lie left his companion's side and crossed "the road so that he could see the bend. "Why," he exclaimed, "she ain't goin' to Asholdhani after all! She's taken the footpath to the left that leads; by Bradnock's into Steeple! Evidently knows the road! " '' Then we are free to go straight along to ' The Yews,' eh? She's making a call in the vicinity. I wonder where she's ?oingf" "Your friend will ascertain that," said the sergeant. "Let's get along to ' The Yews' and 'ave a peep round.'' Therefore the pair, now that Enid was sufficiently far ahead along a footpath which led under a high, bare hedge, went forth again down the high road, until, after crossing the brook, they turned to the right into Asheldham village, where, half-way between that place and New Hall, they turned up a short by-road, a cul-de-sac, at the end of which a big, old-fashioned, red- : brick house of the days of Queen Anne, half hidden by a belt of high Scotch firs, came into view.

Shut off from the by-road by a high, time-mellowed brick wall, it stood back lonely and secluded in about two acres of well-wooded ground. From a big, rusty iron gate the ill-kept gravelled drive took a broad sweep up to the "front of the house, a large, roomy one with square, inartistic windows and plain front, the ugliness of which the ivy strove to hide.

In the grey light of that wintry afternoon the plane looked inexpressibly dis', mal and neglected. Years ago it had, no doubt, been the residence of some well-to-do county family; but in these 20th century days, having been empty for nearly 10 years, it had gone sadly to rack and ruin. The lawns had become weedy, the carriage,drive was in places green with moss, like the sills of the windows and the high-pitched tiled roof itself. In the centre of the lawn, before the house, stood four great ancient yews, ■ while all' around were high box hedges, now, alas! neglected, rmtrimmed, and full of holes. The curtains at the windows were of the commonest kind, while the very steps leading to the front door were grey with lichen and strewn with wisps of straw. The whole aspect was one of neglect, of decay, of mystery. The two men, opening the creaking iron gate, advanced boldly to the front door, an excuse ready in case Pietro opened it. They knocked loudly, but there was no response. Their summons echoed through the big hall, causing Walter to remark: "There can't-be much furniture inside, judging from the sound." "Four van loads came here," responded the sergeant. "I saw them. The first was in a plain van." "You did not discover whence it came?" "I asked the driver down at the inn at Southminster, and he told me that they came from Trinity Furnishing. Company, Peckham. But on making enquiries I found that he lied; there is no such .company in Peckham.'' "You saw the furniture unloaded?"

"I was about here when the first lot came. ' When the other three vans arrived I was away on my annual leave," was the sergeant's reply. Again they knocked, but no one came to the door. A fox terrier approached/ but he proved friendly; therefore they proceeded to make an inspection of the empty stabling and disused outbuildings. Three old hen coops were the only signs of poultry farming they could discover, and these, placed in a conspicuous position in the big, paved yard, were without feathered occupants. There were three doors by which the house could be entered, and all of them Walter tried and found locked. Therefore, noticing in the rubbish heap some stray pieces of paper, he at once turned his attention to what he discovered were fragments of a torn letter. It was written in French, and apparently had reference to certain securities held by the tenant of "The Yews." But as only a small portion of the destroyed communication could be found,' its purport was not very clear, and the name and address of the writer could not be ascertained. Yet it had already been proved without doubt that the mysterious tenant of the dismal old place—the man who posed as a poultry farmer—had had as visitors Dr. Weirmarsh, and Enid Orle bar!. , Fpr a full half-hour, while the red faced sergeant kept watch at the gate. Walter Fetherston continued to investigate the rubbish heap, which showed signs: of having been burning quite re c<Mit)y, for most of the scraps of paper were' charred at their edges. The sodden remains of many letters he withdrew and tried to read, but the scraps gave no tangible result, and lie was just about to relinquish his search when his eye caught a scrap of bright blue notepaper of a familiar hue. It was half burned, and blurred by the rain, but at the corner he recognised some embossing in dark bluefamiliar embossing it was--of part of the address in Hill Street! The paper was that used habitually bv teuitl Orlebar, and upon it was a date, two months before, and the single word "over" in her familiar halnlwiit-

i ii IXllc took his stout walking-stick, in reality a sword-cane, and frantically searched for other scraps, but could lind none. One tiny portion only had been

Author of "The Invasion of England," "Fatal Fingers," &e [Copyright.]

preserved from the flames —paraffin having been poured over the heap to render it the more inflammable. But that scrap in itself was sufficient proof that i Enid had written to the mysterious tenI ant of '' The Yews.'' "Well," he said at last, approaching •the sergeant, "do you think the coast is j clear enough?" '' For what ?'' "To get a glimpse inside". There's a good deal more mystery here than we imagine, depend upon it!" Walter exclaimed. "Master and man will return by the same train, I expect, unless they come back in a motor car. If they come by train they won 't he here till well past 8, so we'll have at least three hours by ourselves." Walter Fetherston glanced around. Twilight was fast falling. "It'll be dark inside, but I've brought my electric torch," he said. "There's a kitchen window with an ordinary latch." "That's no use. There are iron bars," declared the sergeant. "I examined it the other day. The small staircase window at the side is the best means of entry." And he took the novelist round and showed him a long narrow window about oft from the ground. Walter's one thought was of Enid. Why had she written to that mysterious foreigner? Why had she visited there? Why, indeed, was she back in England surreptitiously, and in that neighbourhood? The short winter's afternoon was nearly at an end as they stood contemplating the window prior to breaking in—for, as a member of the Secret Service, Walter Fetherston felt justified in breaking the law in order to examine the interior of that place. In the dark branches of the trees the wind was whistling mournfully, and the scudding clouds were precursory of rain. "By Jove!'' exclaimed Walter. ''This isn't a particularly cheerful abode, is it, sergeant?" "No, sir. If I lived 'ere I'd have the blues in a week," laughed the man. "I can't think 'ow Mr Bailey employs 'iß time." " Poultry-keeping,'' laughed Fetherston, as, standing on tiptoe, he examined the Window-.catch by flashing on the electric torch. "No good!" he declared. "There's a shutter covered with new sneet-iron behind." "It doesn't show through the curtain." exclaimed Deacon. "But it's there. Our friend is evidently afraid of burglars." From window to window they passed but the mystery was considerably inby the discovery that at each of those.on the ground floor were ironfaced shutters, though so placed as not to be noticeable behind the windows, which were entirely covered with cheap curtain muslin. "That's funny!" exclaimed the sergeant. "I've never examined them with a light before.

"They have all been newly Btrengthiened," declared Fetherstou. "On the other side I expect there are strips of iron placed latticewise, a favourite device of foreigners. Mr Bailey,"' he | added, "evidently has no desire that ! any intruder should gain access to his residence." "What shall we do?" asked Deacon, for it was now rapidly growing dark. A thought had suddenly occurred to Walter that perhaps Enid's intention was to make a call there, after all. "Our only way to obtain entrance is, I think, by one of the upper windows," replied the man whose very life was occupied by the investigation of mysteries. "In the laundry I noticed a ladder. Let us go and get it." So the ladder, a rather rotten and insecure one, was obtained, and after some difficulty placed against the wall. It would not, however, reach to the windows as first intended, therefore Walter mounted upon the slippery mess-grown tiles of a wing of the house, and after a few moments' exploration discovered la skylight, which proved to be over the head of the servants' staircase. This he lifted, and, fixing around a chimney-stack a strong silk rope he had brought in his pocket ready for any emergency, he threw 7 it down the opening and quickly lowered himself through. Scarcely had he done so, and was standing on the uncarpeted stairs, when his quick ear caught, the sound of Deacon's footsteps receding over the gravel around to the front of the house. Then a secoud later he heard a loud challenge from the gloom in a man's voice that was unfamiliar: "Who's there?" There was no reply. Walter listened with bated breath. "What are you doing there?" cried the new-comer in a voice in which was a marked foreign accent. "Speak! — speak, or I'll shoot!" Walter did not move. He realised that a contretemps had occurred. The ladder still leaning against the wall outside would reveal his intrusion. Yet now within he intended, at all hazards, to explore the place and learn the reason why the mysterious stranger had started that "poultry farm." He was practically in the dark, fearing to flash on his torch lest he should be discovered. Was it possible that Bailey or his Italian man-servant had unexpectedly returned! Those breathless moments seemed hours. Suddenly he heard a second challenge. The challenger used a firece Italian oath, and by it he knew that it was Pietro. In reply, a shot rang out—evidently from the sergeant's revolver, followed by another sharp report and still another. This action showed the man Deacon to be a shrewd person, for the effect was exactly as he had intended. The Italian servant turned on his heel and flew for his life down the drive, shouting in Italian for help and for the police. "Madonna santa!" he yelled. "Who are you here?" he demanded in Italian. "I'll go to the police!" And in terror he rushed off down the road. "All right, sir," cried the sergeant after the servant, had disappeared. "I've given the fellow a good fright. Be quick and have a look round, sir, and you can be out again before he raises the alarm!" In an instant Walter flashed on his torch and, dashing down the stairs,

crossed the kitchen and found himsilf in the hall. From room to room le rushed, but found only two rooms i a the ground floor furnished—a sittingroom, which had been the origin; 1 diuiii<;-ruom, while in the library was i chair-bed, most probably where Pietr • slept. On the table lay a heavy revolvei • fully loaded, and this Fetherston quick ly transferred to his jacket pocket. Next moment he went up the fine aili principal staircase two steps at a time, and entered room after room. Only on« was furnished, the tenant's bedroom. In it he found a number of suits of clothes, while on the dressing-table lay a set of 'lark false whiskers and moustache, evidently for disguise. A small writing table was set in the window, and upon it was strewn a quantity of papers, which a glance showed were in French and German. As he flashed his torch around he was amazed to see arranged upon a neat deal table in a corner a quantity of electrical apparatus with two telephone receivers. In a second the truth flashed upon him that here was a complete instalment of the very latest system of wireless telegraphy, so that the occupier of that lonely house could establish secret telegraphic communication with some other station on the opposite side of the North Sea! (To be continued.)