THE FATAL GLOVE

Sun (Christchurch), Volume IV, Issue 1065, 11 July 1917, Page 2

THE FATAL GLOVE

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' "A Sea Dog of Devon," etc "It is a good thing that one knows! ami understands you," said Miss Man-j nets. "It is a terrible business to joke i about." "Well, then, let's joke about something else. I'll tell vou what! We'll' have a bet." "What about?" "Anything you like. I'm in a. gam-' jbling frame of mind. Let me think of the most outree proposition I can con-j ceive. I have it! Look here, I'll bet yon a pair of gloves that within tin hour' you'll be in a place you never were in i before, talking to a person you never, saw before about a matter you never i heard of before. How's that?" _ "That's very unlikely. I'll lake you. I When I leave here I'm going to Lancaster Gate to work till half-past nine, and then I'm going home to bed." "Well, Miss .Manners, if that is so, you can make the bet with an absolute certainty of winning. The gloves are i\ snip. Is ir on? '' •"Yes," she said, looking curiously at; him. "Now we'd leave the subject and enjoy our dinner, " said I'inson. lie ate with a good appetite, rattled Alphonse, 1 filled her glass, and behaved exactly like the Tinsou of old. When the coffee was brought and he had lit his cigarette, he said: "Now for the wager. Alphonse! Bring me paper, an envelope, ink, and a pen." Alphonse cleared the little table and disposed upon it writing materials. "Now," said Pinson to his companion, "take the pen and write." "You're very strange to-night," said Miss Manners. "Never more myself," replied Tinson. "Be a good girl. Good girls do what they are told. Now write: " 'Dear Sir,' or 'Dear Mr Brewster,' or whatever you say when you're addressing our mutual friend. " ' Dear Sir?' Very well; formality is necessarv in business. Let it be 'Dear Sir.' " "But I don't, want to write to M Brewster," the said; "I shall see hint half an hour." "What a woman it is!" exclaimed Tiuson. "I thought we had a bet on. This is one of the conditions." She laughed. "Oh. well. Goon." "Write away: 'Dear Sir,—l am sorry to say that I have just had a message, calling me away to the bedside of a friend who is desperately ill. I shall be unable to attend at Lancaster Gate this evening. I hope to be at work at the usual time in the morning. —Y'ours faithfully, Lucy Manners.' Now take the envelope and address it." Miss Manners put down the pen. "What do you mean?" "As you love me," said Pinson, "< as I tell you." "But I don't love you, and I'm no going to do as you tell me." "It's very unkind of you not to love me," said Tinsou, looking straight in her eyes; "but I'll scold you for that later on. For the present, the important j things is to address the envelope." The girl's brown eyes dropped under | I'inson's gaze. She took the pen and; addressed the envelope, and when she looked up her checks were flaming. "Good!" said Pinson. "Here, Alphonse! Have this delivered at once. Then call a taxi." The head waiter came up and took the letler. Pinson rose and assisted Miss Mauners into her coat. She followed him, with her cheeks still flaming. (To be contin ted.) [

Author of "A Silver Dagger," CHAPTER XlV.—iToiithiucd). I A DEADLY LETTER. Grainier withdraw and followed Tineon through the doorway to th<' bottom of the >t:iirs. I'inson placed iiis hand over Grainger's mouth as a sign to be silent. Then he unbolted ami opened a door which lei into the little area in fron*- of the house. I "Now." said he aloud, '•you'll find Sergeant Furze and hi* men waiting under the railway atvh. < : o and fetch them quickly. Quick! Be off!'' And I'inson himself, pressing Grainger back against the stairs, rushed out ami up tlie narrow steps. At the top he waited. Ir was not a minute before the ruse worke.i. The tall man. l-a\ing crept to the doorway, ran past Grainger, aud went up the steps three at a time. Tinsou was taken unawares. He tried to avoid the blow aimed at him, but it eaught him in the chest and he we.it rolling into the bushes that lined the railings of the diminutive garden. Before he could pick himself up, Graiuger was by his side. But the tall man was Tunning fast up the road in the direction away from the Forter-ciie Arms. "Never mind him!" crie<l I'inson. "He'll keep. Let \ see what there is to be seen. They went back into the kitchen. The door at the back was locked. Tinsoa knocked. There was no answer. "I*ll soon settle that." said Grainger. }.-> took a poker from the range, am! rammed it between the door and the frame. The light 10.-k was torn away from the woodwork iu five seconds, and the door Hung back. The place was the usual cupboard that did duty tor pantry, and there was not much light. Grainger produce,' his electric flash. A little cry came from the further corner of the j!a.e as the white light shone out. There was a woman shrinking against the wall. "Ah!" said I'inson. "Good afternoon. Miss Playfair. Can you excuse the roughness of our entry?" The woman shivered and turned her head as she spoke. Then she stretched out her hands to him, and staggered forward. She would have fallen full length on the floor if Grainger had not caught her. "Brimr her out," said Pinson. "Water! Bring her round. I'll fetch a cab." Ten minutes afterwards, the two men and the woman were in a taxi, speeding along the Clapham Road towards Ton don. "Do not attempt to talk now. Miss Plavfair,'" Tin-on was saying. "There is plentv of time to talk. Rest your self." She was pale and dishevelled and distraught. Her plight excited Tin son's pity, and repressed his inclination to make a joke of it. "You were right, Mr Pinson," said Grainger. "I give you best.'' 'Not a bad guess, Grainger, but I eonfess I had more ground to work upon than von." "There's one thins; that piques me. I can see all the rest. But why did that Sergeant Furze trick come off. What was it made him skip" "You a West-countryman, and not able to see that!" said I'inson. "Why. the roan stood self-confessed. I ilon't know him. but I'll wager he knew Sergeant Furze's name as well as you or I. and better, and that the last person in the worhl be wanted to see step into: that kitchen was Sergeant Furze." | Grainger thought it over for an in | etant, and then slapped his knee, ex • claiming. "Of course! I gi' e you be-t up to that point. Now. Mr Pinion, you don't kuow who he is?" "No." i "Then, von give me best from there! onward. He'.; Odgers, that's who he j is—Frederick Odgers. And. by jiminy. ' he's got to be foun !. You leave that to me. Mr I'inson. I'll find him." "Very well. Grainier, you've got; plenty of room to look for him—all London, you know." The girl lay back in the corner of the cab. The fresh air that blew through the open windows was reviving her. "Where are we going, Mr I'inson?" she asked, faintly. "To my chambers, Miss Playfair. I'm goir.g to give them up to you tonight and sleep at the dub. T'll semi somebody to you, a friend. I would take you to a hotel, but there are reasons why not. You shall hear them presently. But better not to talk at present. You've had a horrible time." "Horrible, horrible!" she said, shuddering, and lay back again. It was dark and silent in Taper Court. The chambers were deserted. Pinson routed out an old woman who was apparently to do what she was told and ask no questions. At any rate, she took it quite as a matter of course that a young and beautiful woman in a state of great distress should Ik? brought to a bachelor's chambers and handed o\er to her care, and that she should be told to feed her and look after her till further orders, and that on no account must anybody be told that there was a lady in the place. Having made these arrangements, and having satisfied Miss Playfair that they were necessary, the two men left. They parted outside the door. "It'is most essential that he should be caught," said Grainger. "Very well." I'inson answered. "Bur you will not find him without the assistance of the police. And I insist that if you have to call in the police, not a word of this—not one word, Grainger. There are things here that they must not know." "Trust use to invent a reason good ♦nough for the police.'' said Grainger, -and turned into Fleet Street without further word*. -Mr Pinson looked ar his watch. It was 7 o'clock. lb- turned westward, aiei before half pa-t 7 he had pu*he I open the swing door at Tinaud's. "Ah! " said Alphonse, "mademoiselle was a.»king '.: you had been here, monsieur I'avocat. You will find her there." Pinson's face brightened. She was th--e. and the vacant >eat was beside 1 She greete i hi at with a smile. "Haven't ■-<;. •, you for an age," said Pinson. as he hiing his hat. "Been <lowu i': iVvonshiro arranging to have Ol ' I. -■•:- -' rug ■!!•. The smile of Mi>s Manners vanished, and lie looked at him with an expression of disgust. "How .an you talk so?" she asked. "Pity about old Ly-ons" said i'inson. sitting down beside in-r, and pointing '•• a dish on th» card for the benefit of tire waiting Alphon-e. "Ni'-e boy, l ; l>ui )-o seems to have acquired a depraved fa to for homicide 'luring the last \ tar or two." '