THE FATAL GLOVE

Sun (Christchurch), Volume IV, Issue 1053, 27 June 1917, Page 2

THE FATAL GLOVE

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Author of "A Silver Dagger,' CHAPTER VllT.—(Continued.) WHAT HAPPENED TO NO. 15. Brewster walked 1o the table in the ■window, and nervously fingered the papers that lay there. He opened a ease containing the sheets of a manuscript. It was labelled "Toxic Phenomena." The papers on the table wore the draft of a chapter headed, " V.—The Reactions of Urari.''

"The question is here, Miss Manners," said Brewster. "There is a weak link in the chain. 1 hope to be able to supply it with evidence that may be available in a day or two. 1 see you have just passed the point. I want you to leave it for the time and go on to the notes for Section B. We will return to this." "Very good," said Miss Manners, still standing in the middle of the room. "is that all?'' "Yes, I think so, for the time," he answered. "But ." Brewster turned to her, and seemed to transfix her with his brilliant eyes. He sat down in her chair by the table. "You're a very extraordinary girl," he said. 1 ' Perhaps I am, Mr Brewster,'' she retorted. "But if you want to discuss my characteristics we will postpone that tiil to-morrow. There is no other point in the treatise that you want to mention now?" "Don't be afraid," said he. "I'm not an ogre —and if the circumstances in which we find ourselves and your great personal charms should tempt me to be indiscreet —why, there's a bellpull beside your bed, and you can.alarm the house in a moment."

She looked at him in a puzzled way. lie was certainly very strange to-night. He regarded her with an intermittent gaze which disconcerted her greatly. But, after all, what he said was (rue — she could wake the house by pulling the bell. The event that arrived soon after was bo startling that Miss Manners, when she came to think it over, could not remember the details of the desultory talk that took place between' her and Brewster for ten minutes. He spoke of her work and her outlook, and complimented her on the ability with which she followed difficult inquiries. All the time he looked at her and away from her with quick glances, ami his "lace grew paler and more strained. At last it dawned upon her that he was making love to her. ITis talk veered away from her intellectual qualities to her beauty. Lucy Manners was no more immune against flattery than the rest of the world; but she was conscious that though she had a good figure and a strong, pleasant face, she was not endowed with the Hellenic, perfection that Brewster in his exaltation attributed to her. And when his excitement reached the point at which he rose and came towards her, with his pale face and his shining eyes, then it was that, she raised her voice and cried sharply: "Stand oil'! I am surprised and humiliated, Mr Brewster. If you do not leave ray room at, once, I rouse the hcuse. You' have-no business to say these things to me. T am your secretary, and I do not intend to be anything else." "You aren't in earnest!" said Brewster, making another step towards her.

"Stop! " she cried. " I am in deadly earnest. Leave the room now —this instant! —or I'll give the alarm. You can apologise to me to-morrow." It was this sharp passage that I'inson heard while leaning on the window-sill of his room. Then the sound of a door softly closed, and —silence. "By Jove!" said I'inson to himself. "A trump! But 1 might have known. I ought to be kicked for having even a momentary suspicion." Pinson went to bed easier in his mind, and slept soundly till seven in the morning. Lysons was up early, too. At breakfast he seemed a little constrained. "You have something weighing on your brilliant, intellect again, Lysons. What is it? Better get it. off." "It's this, I'inson; I've been thinking about Miss Plavfair. I was wondering whether " Lysons paused. "Von were wondering whether you wouldn't bolt straight off to whatever corner of the country hides Miss Playfair, and make hay while the sun shines. Splendid Lysons! 1 don't see why you shouldn't go. It's Sunday. There will be nothing doing till to-morrow, when the daily papers come out. The adjourned inquest isn't, till the afternoon. Take a short week-end, my boy, find make the most of it. I shall stay here and go to church —perhaps. Or spend an improving hour or two in the company of the eminent scientist. My blessing and a good riddance to you. Give my love lo the major." I'inson was, in fact, quite content to have Lysons out of the way that morning. There were certain tilings he wanted lo do privately. And the first thing he did after Lysons had been driven off by Tom Pengelly in the dogcart was to examine the timetable. One train only on Sunday morning communicated with the main line. It got in at ten.

"Wcstport 7.so—Buefcfiist 10.2." Pinsoii rnn his fingers down the table. "That will he it. There's time to make n little combination." Pinsoti went to a writing-table and scribbled on :t sheet of paper: "It is nof good for man to be alone If he sees a lady strolling down n road past a-railway station and over a bridge across n river, about a quarter-past ten in the morning, what reason is there why he should not follow her and hold converse with her if she be willing?" lie paused. Should he sign? No; the handwriting would be enough. !Je rang the bell. A maid ap-.eared. " Will you give thai to Miss Manners if she should come down before lop? Jl' not, keep it till you see me again," said Vinson, lie placed a shilling on the envelope and handed if to the girl. "All right, sir." said she. Pinson ran up (o his room. On the drosriti"--Inlde he found a screwdriver and a kev. "The faithful Thomas! " he exclaim ed. Two long screws fastened the doo: leading lo I'eiurelly's cue-room, lie had them out in live minutes, end the door yielded easily. The "Mom lo which it gave access was a small one. Teerwere shot-s'uns on the wail, n bench. shelves, a fh'hing rod, ru I the odd:; and en Is of a eporfsmhn 's gear. Pinson took a bottle of oil from the shelf,

m> By R. A. J. WALLING

• "A Sea Dog of Devon," etc and with a feather carefully greased the lock of the door. It worked noiselessly when he inserted the key. Returning to his own room, he repeated the process there. Then he listened. There was someone moviug i about in No. 15. lie smiled to himself in Ihe mirror, brushed his hair, adjusted his tie, and took a Iloniburg hat. lie went down to the quiet sunlit i street. Ho strolled towards the little railway station, and hung about on the bridge over the river, watching the sunlight playing among the trees, and the: rings where the brown trout were mark-j in};' in the deep pool below. The branch train puffed its leisurely! way up the valley, and slopped with much groaning.. A few people emerged from the station and walked away from him towards the town. One man came in the direction of the bridge, lie was | an undistinguished-looking .man of I middle-height, an elderly man with ! white mutton-chop whiskers ami white I hair. He wore a blue serge suit aud; a bowler hat, and carried an umbrella.! One would have said a small shopkeeper in his best holiday clothes out for a | .Sunday walk. The only noticeable thing; about him was his grey eyes. They were surprisingly keen at one moment I and astonishingly sleepy the next. j lie stopped on the bridge and looked over. "It's a fine mornin', sir," he said' to Pinson. j "Glorious," was the response. "II suppose lots of people come to a beautiful place like this on a fine Sunday."; "Yes, sir, no doubt. Has for me, 1 've come on a sad herrand. My aged haul.' died of gout last night, anil T 'in on the way to pay 'er my las' respects. Terrible thing, the gout, sir." All right, Grainger. It's a very good I make-up, and you manage your r's beau- j tifully. But why, if I may ask, oh. terror of wrongdoers, why?" "Well, Mr Pinson, I thought it better j to be on the safe side. I gathered from what you said on the telephone that it was a ticklish bit of business, and we mi<:ht. have the police against us. And as old Furze was in that Ashbury burglar's | rase with you and me. and therefore knows me, it's just as well to be some- , body else for the time, at any rate until we see how the land lies." "Yes. That's so. I've got a room I for you at the George and Dragon. , We're all there. You're to be booked j < as Mr Brown. You don't know ine; M you don't know anybody; you've nothing to do with the case. Invent ■ something by and by. Now," he went, on, looking at his watch, "I've got five | minutes to put you on the qui vive, ! ; Grainger. You've seeu all that has ■■ been published?" '' Yes.'' "Good. Then a few leading lines will! give you the trail of the facts that lie behind the evidence." Pinson talked his five minutes by the I watch. Then he said:

"Now, good-bye. I'm expecting a lady. I want to have a talk with her. I'll tell you about her later on. Remember, Mr Brown, we're strangers when we meet, again." Pinson waited on the bridge, ami still felt that impulse to hum a tune. From the church tower came the chime of a quarter. The road was deserted; the little railway station was silent. The sun shone on a scene of quietude broken only by the chatter of the river over a stickle below the bridge. Not two minutes after the quarter, Miss Manuel's came in sight. She was trimly dressed, and looking slim and vigorous. Pinson greeted her with his characteristic liveliness. "You're always the same," said she. "It's a lovely morning. Did you invite me out to admire the Devonshire scenery, or was there some hidden purport behind that extraordinary note.'" "Men \s motives are mixed, Miss Manners," said Pinson. "I am an enthusiastic lover of Devonshire scenery; but, I also love other things. I*ll tell you all about them one day. At present, do you care for a stroll'? There's sure to be a picturesque mill or something down the road.''

They began walking slowly along the road. I'inson looked with mingled admiration and speculation at the trim figure by his side. "No, Miss Manners," he said, "I did not, invite you oat, as the walrus invited llie carpenter, to admire the view. I asked you to come out for a specific purpose. Five minutes ago I was not sure that I would tell you what it was. First, I am going to ask you a question. Will you answer it?" "It depends," said she. "Well, it is this: How long have you known M r Brewster?" "That's easy. Only a few weeks. 1 answered his advertisement for a secretary about a month ago. I was rather attracted by the idea of working with a man like that." "Naturally. Now, I want to ask you another question, which you will answer if you like. Did Brewster ever sav anything to you about an incident that happened in West Africa —1 mean an incident of any interest to me and my friend Lysous'?" "There's no difficulty in answering that," said Miss Manners, "lie lias never said anything to me about Africa, and has never mentioned your name or thai of Mr Lysons." "Ah," said J'iuson. "Your work with Brewster is intensely interesting, no doubt," he added inconsequent!v. "Yes. Nevertheless, it is finished, t have in my handbag a letter resigning my position with him." (To be continued.)