Barbara On Her Own
By
EDGAR WALLACE
(Chapter XIX. continued)
‘‘Murder, I understand ?” he said •without emotion. He might have been asking the time. He listened, almost in complete silence, to the story of the discovery, examined the shirt, the trousers and the coat. “That is undoubtedly blood,” he said, examining the shirt, “and this is unquestionably mud.” Absent-mindedly ho took one of Mr. Atterman’s priceless coronas from a box, bit off the end, and accepted the light Which Julius offered to him with a curt pod of thanks. “The coat has been torn in a struggle,” he said. “If you were to reconstruct the crime, you would say that be was grasped by the collar thus”—he caught Julius by the throat in a grip of iron: Mr. Colesberg’s face went a deep purple —“and he was struck on the bead—no, that couldn’t be. I’ll try with my right hand.” “Just tell us what happened —there’s no need to demonstrate,” begged Julius, recovering hie breath. “He was held with the right hand and struck with the left. That is why the blood is on the right-hand side. A champagne bottle—the wine stains suggest that.” “Champagne is yellow, not red,” said Mr. Atterman. “Some champagnes turn red on' exposure to the air,” explained Mr. Pecker quietly, “I should say that he was pulled down in the open—the woman had a confederate. A tall, dark man—” “How do you know?” demanded Atterman startled. Pecker did not enlighten him. ' He pictured the assailant as a tall, dark man. A short, fair assassin would have been incongruous. “Tho body was then dragged some distance—probably into a -disused outhouse.”
Ho was examining the pair of patent leather* shoes that the others had overlooked. .“Scratches here,” he pointed. “Somebody stood on his foot—the leather is cracked.” ' He put his hand into the inside breast pocket of the dress coat and drew out two grei i slips. “She t;;ok him first- to the Empire theatre.”
Ho searched th© other- pocket and made his most important discovery. It was a piece of crumpled card, torn apparently from a wino list, for on one uide was printed the prices of liquors. The note was written shakily in pencil. “Dear Barbara—For heaven’s sake do not tell a soul—”
Her© the writing ended, “Evidently she knew something about him,” said Peeker, piecing together the ptory. “Sho threatened to expose him —demanded her price—and on his refusal —” Ho shrugged.
“This is a matter for the police--” began Attorman. “Wait,” Peeker raised a warning hand. “Don’t let us bring in those bunglers. Th© man may still iso alive?” Attorman breathed more quickly. “You mean—?”
“There are a score of dens where he may b© hidden. I know places that are beyond your wildest dreams. To bring in the police may mean his death! Dead men,” said Mr. Peeker, “tell no tales.” “What ar© we to do?” asked Julius, all of a flutter.
“Leavo everything to me.” Peeker took out a notebook. “What ie this girl’s private address?” Ho finished writing and closed his book.
“The first thing is clear,” he said. "Tho girl is in difficulties —probably in th© hands of moneylenders. In her desperation sho persuades the old man to take her to dinner, and after to a theatre where th© confederate is picked up. On the same excuse—probably to drop the third man—they drive to some lonely part of the town. Maber gets out, there is a struggle, and he is struck down and dragged to a cellar. The girl, wishing to spirit him away to the country where he will be away from prying eyes, gets a change of clothing—evening dress would bo conspicuous. She drugs him—the rest is easy.” “What is the rest?” asked Julius.
Mr. Peeker shrugged again. “Leave this to me. In 24 hours you may call in the police. In 48 hours these two people will be under lock and key. You didn’t want to see me about anything else, Mr. Attorman?” He gave the impression that it was hardly worth while bringing him to Regent’s .Park to discuss a mere murder.
CHAPTER XX. There were two other people holding strong views on the iniquity of Barbara fitorr. Mr. and Mrs. Hammett did not go to Canada, did not leave for the Continent. did not more, in fact, than pav the most pressing of their creditors, and the change of plans was due to two causes. In the first place, the gentleman who had agreed to purchase the lawyer’s furniture at a knock-out price had demanded at the eleventh hour to be shown a receipt for the same; an embarrassing request, inasmuch as the prettily furnished apartment rented by . Mr. Hammett had 'been furnished on what is known as the hire-purchase system, whereby, for a seemingly inadequate sum, a large-hearted and trustful tradesman supplies his client or clients with beds and carpets, dining room suites of handsome appearance, gorgeous over-mantels—in fact, all that a young married, couple, or an old married couple for the matter of that, may desire. Having paid the deposit and received the goods, tlio hirer paid so much a month for years and years, at the end of which time such of the furniture as remained became his property. Mr. Hammett had not paid for years and years, not even for months and months. Accordingly he was making no great sacrifice when ho offered his household goods to a man who had hitherto been a friend.
There was ’another reason. Amongst tho correspondence waiting for him—and this included a very ominous letter from the Law Society—he had found an ur- I gent note from an old client, Captain ' Griffin, of the Silina. Mr. Hammett had 1 been very useful to the captain; once in a little matter of broaching cargo and onco when ho faced a more serious charge of assault with intent to murder, i In each case, Mr. Hammett, in his legal wisdom, had discovered certain flaws in the evidence for the prosecution, and the captain had gone scot-free.
- Thereafter it was* the habit of Captain Griffin, whenever he was in London (lie was master of a coasting vessel which plied between Leith and Newcastle), or whenever ho was in any kind of difficulty, to consult his learned friend, paying for the advice sometimes in cash, sometimes in kind. Many a good case of whisky had gone astray on the passage from Leith to London, and had found its way by some mysterious method into Mr. Hammett’s buffet. And just at this moment Hammett was in need of a little advice himself from a man who was familiar ■with the character and climate of foreign countries. He was not sure that Canada would offer to him the opportunities to which his I genius entitled him. | And there was no immediate hurry. That afternoon the shipping agency had refunded tho deposit he had paid on his tickets and Mr. Hammett was not ill-pleased. “It will be nearly- three weeks before Maber comes out,” he said shrewdly, “and we shall never have another chance like this. In that time, if I have the brains of a puff-adder, I should be able to get a cool thousand out of Maher’s business. Then we can think about skipping.” “But how are wc going to get it?” a/ked Mrs. Hammett, naturally intrigued. “There are .several ways,” said Mr. Hammett as ho knocked off tho ash of his cigar into the untidy fireplace. “The only thing is”- —he fondled his narrow chin thoughtfully—“could wo do a real big bit of business and get away with it?”
“You’re clever enough for anything,” said Mrs. Hammett, one of the few people in the world who admired him. Mr. Hammett did not need to be told that. A very long acquaintance with tho lowest form of criminal practice had educated him in the art and artfulness of money-getting. He knew a dozen methods, all effective, all more or less simple—and all invariably fatal to a man's liberty. There was an imposing-headed letter on the table; he.picked it up and read it again. It was a letter’ for the secretary
of the Law Society, calling upon him to appear before the Council “at eleven o’clock in the forenoon” on a certain day I to explain certain things which, he knew, were inexplicable. That inquiry could only have one end: his disappearance from the honourable roll of officers of the court. He had had many narrow escapes of being “struck off,” and in a large degree his very obscurity and unimportance had helped him avoid that unpleasant contingency. But the end of his practice had come: a prosecution might even follow. Mr. Hammett was not distressed, was not even annoyed. What worried him most was the regularity of the means he had in his possession for leaving the country. For his passport was in his own name; an inartistic photograph of himself decorated its pages. The man who is travelling on a passport is easily traced; consular officers find their only recreation in th© detection of fugitives. “I’d do it like a shot,” he mused. “Only it certain they will be after me.” “What about Griffin?” asked Mrs. Hammett, “Couldn’t ho get you away?” Mr. Hammett sneered. “Don’t bo a fool. Ho could get me away from London to Leith, but what use would that be? Captain Griffin!” “There’s him,” said Mrs. Hammett, and hurried out to admit the visitor. Captain Griffin was a small and hairy
man, with a slight cast in ono eye. “How do you do, Mr. Hammett?” He greeted his friend warmly, and ho had reasons for his affection. “I thought I’d pop in to seo you before I went, I’ve got a bit of law to talk about, if you don’t mind, ma’am?” Mrs. Hammett modestly offered to withdraw her presence, but the captain, with that old-world courtesy which is part of th© sea tradition, refused to entertain the idea.
“We’re all friends here,” he said, “and what I tell your legal husband won’t be repeated, as I know.”
Ho drew the chair nearer to the table. Mrs. Hammett, like the good hostess she was, produced a black hottie from the sideboard, a jug of water and a syphon of soda, gave the captain permission to smoke —a permission he had already anticipated—and settled herself down, more curious than her husband to hear this point of law discussed. “I want to know my position,” said Captain Griffin slowly, giving two words to on© puff of smoke. “Mind you, Mr. Hammett, I’m being paid well. Thirty pounds a month and one per cent, bonus on th© cargo. And there’s no risk and no danger. I took supplies ji at Leith, and I’m waiting now for the young gentleman from Glasgow who’s going out with us. Now the question is, you know the laws of America; what can I get for it?”
’’For what?’’ asked Mr. Hammett, suddenly interested. “Well, for this rumining, or whatever they call it.” Hammett suddenly sat bolt upright. When ho thought at all, he thought quick ly. “You're rum-running?” ho asked. 'That s the word. What can I get for it? Some say ten vears; some say a fine.” “When do you leave?” he asked, "To-morrow night about eleven o’clock. We’re lying in the Pool, and we get out at high tide.” A. faint colour had come into Mr. Hammett s face. He saw his way clearly .now. “You needn’t bother about what you’ll get,” he said rapidly. “There’s very little chance of your being caught. Griffin, how would you like to take mo with you ?” "i ou. sir?” The captain stared at him, “Do you want to go a voyage?” Hammett nodded. “Take you, sir? Why, I’ll take you with pleasure, I'd pay money to have a lawyer on tho spot, and it’ll bo a good holiday, too. We’ll be back again in November.” “I don't want any holiday,” said Mr. Hammett emphatically. “All I want is to bo landed in America without anybody knowing.” Then seeing the suspicious look in the captain’s eyes, he leaned forward, and, confidentially: “It’s a secret mission,” he said with mystery, “for the Government.” Tho captain frowned. “Not about booze,” ho asked with a i sudden fear. Booze /” Hammett shrugged his j shoulders. “No, about gold, and certain
other things that I’m not going to talk about.” The captain pulled at his beard. “And your lady?” he asked. “She’ll go by the ordinary steamer.” He met his wife’s eye coldly. “When I send for her,” he added. The captain sighed his relief. “Wo haven’t got any accommodation for ladies on my old tub, but you’ll -be welcome, sir. Wo sail at eleven. You’d better not come till half-past ten, otherwise you’ll bo attracting atention. I’ll have a boat waiting for you at China Stairs that’s a little narrow turning near tho Slipway in Wapping. Nobody need see you come on board, and it will bo easy to land you. I’ll send you off in one of tho motor boats that are coming to meet me outside the limit.” They shook hands on that Tho captain left half an hour later, and Mr. Hammett spent tho rest of his night perfecting a scheme which had never been known to fail.
(To be continued.)
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Bibliographic details
Taranaki Daily News, 15 July 1929, Page 13
Word Count
2,226Barbara On Her Own Taranaki Daily News, 15 July 1929, Page 13
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