THE SIX-HOUR MYSTERY

Taranaki Daily News, 27 August 1930, Page 14

THE SIX-HOUR MYSTERY

By

ANTONY MARSDEN

As Brosski’s name slipped out, the blackmailer’s manner underwent a remarkable change. The sneer faded from his face; his eyes narrowed suddenly, and for an istant she read fear there. Then, with an effort he recovered; and in a y-oioe sharp with anxiety: “Brosski pal of yours?” “He'was. He's dead." “Were you there when he croaked?” No. I’ve been in England a year.” His next question took her by surprise. “Know anyone called Karin?” r “Karin?” she stared at him.

“Karin, yes. You heard what I “I knew a Karin —years back—over there. But he hadn’t never anything to do with the Brosski outfit—” “When did you see him last?” “I don’t remember. A long while back, in New York. He’s there yet, I guess.” “Then who sent you here to spy on me?” Come on, let’s have the truth! It wasn’t to apill that sob-stuff about Nick Marklow that you came sneakin <r here to-night! I want the truth, by—” ... ' With a swift movement he snatched her arm and twisted it savagely. She gave a cry of pain; next moment, wrenching herself free, she sprang back out of reach, her eyes blazing murder-: ously. “By God, Bert Woolcroft, you’ll find’yourself wrong side of the boneyard gate one of these days, laying your fat hands on folks!” For a few seconds the two stood rigid, glaring at each other. Blit when Wooicroft spoke, his tone had once more changed, -and his next words were spoken in the most abject humility. v.. “I’m sorry, Marie! I forget myself . . .Tell me, though—this man, Karin, we were speaking of—l guess lie’s been getting at you, hasn’t he? He sent you here to-night?” “I don’t know what you mean. I told you what I’d come about. What xas Karin to do with that?” . ‘Wooicroft tried afresh. “See, here, Marie. Just now you asked if I’d go back on what I’d fixed —about Marklow?”

“Yes—?” sudden hope dawned In the woman’s eyes, aiyj at once the bewilderment that he had roused in her was forgotten. . “Well, maybe I was Fuelling you. Maybe we’ll come to easier terms . . . You might buy those letters right now,” he temped her. “Yes —?” she breathed again, “Suppose you give me a straight deal —over this chap Karin? Just :or Nick’s sake, eh?” The brown eyes searched his piteously. “God knows, I’ll make any terms I can with you!” she muttered brokenly. “But what do you want to know?” He leaned forward. “Karin’s been getting hold of you, Marie? Own up! It was Karin sent you here —to spy?” In despair the woman shook her head. “I’ve told you, I don’t know what you’re getting at. I’ve not seen Karin for yeans.” There was a moments silence; then Woolcroft’s face darkened and the hard jaw set. “That all you’ve got' to tell me?” “What can I tell you? I’ve said all I know —” Woolcroft shrugged. “Very well.. Please yourself. Blit the deal’s off now. mind—” he went on, his pent-up anger bursting. “You needn’t come back Thursday—with the money or without. For I’m through with you. That’s my last word.” • ■ • ' The woman looked hard at him; and she shivered slightly. “I might have known —” she muttered, all but xri; audible. ; “You might. Yoji, might have saved yourself this trouble. I don’t know why you came —if it wasn’t Karin sent you.” ' But Marie' Bressler drew herself up proudly.' She, tod, had changed during the last few moments of their interview. Her deep eyes seemed to mock him as she replied slowly and with a steady resolution that matched his own; Maybe I just came 1 to make sure, Bert Woolcroft. One can’t be too sure, can one —before one commits oneself?” “Jakes!” Woolcroft called. The negro appeared. Marie Bressler’s full lips curled in a. bitter smile. . “Don’t worry; I’m showing myself out.” And, with no further word, she walked, past the two men and went. Woolcroft remained . where he was, standing in the bare, shuttered room, stock still, frowning, deep in thought. For a few moments the negro watched him. ' Then: “Karin never sent that woman here,” he said. Woblcroft. looked up- “You were listening then?” “Sure.” “Like your damned’ brass ... You think she was telling the truth. But you weren’t watching her—” “No, boss. I had the drop on you there. Eyes bluff you—’specially a woman’s eyes,” he went on dispassionately. “It’s the voice gives a liar away. That dame’s not wise to nothing, or she’d have split.” “I wish I was sure of that,” muttered Woolcroft uneasily. “If she's been hanging round the last few days, she could tell Karin too much—” “She’s telling Karin nix,” the other repeated dogmatically. “You take my word, boss —she don’t even know Karin’s left the States?’ “They might meet, though—” Then Woolcroft seemed to make up his mind. “Well, the more reason to nail Karin quick!- To-night.” “Eddy-” “We can’t wait for Eddy any longer. God knows' where, he is. I’ll bring your coat after you. Get along to the launch!” “So now we’re getting down to the brass' tacks!” But. aloud, Jim Nash merely said: “I’m afraid you will have to tell me rather more, if I’m to be any use to you . . . but surely, I’ve come too late?” The Russian smiled. “Oh, no! By no means. The—game has scarcely begun—” For a moment his keen eyes dwelt on Nash, as though •he were coming to some decision. Then, shrewdly: “I notice, Mr. Nash, you have a most admirable gift of reticence —a first-rate qualification, believe me, tor the somewhat delicate task which I am about to propose to you.” Nash returned, his smile. “I know how to. mind.;m.y;,own business, sir.” “Precisely. But as you suggest, I owe you some little explanation, yes T

First, though —at the risk of offending you—let me dispose of that point which embarrasses me most; I mean the financial terms on which alone I can enlist your services. As I have told you my employers arc generous. They are already in your debt. Should you consent to let me use you further —even to the extent of an hour —I must insist .that you accept this small sum for, shall we say, expenses” He pulled out five ten-pound Bank of England notes, and laid them on the divan. •

“Or, as an insurance policy against accidents," Nash suggested ingenuously. The other laughed. “Ah, no. 1 think your adventure in the cab is the last physical risk that you are likely to run. My friends the enemy, Mr. Nash, are much too delicately situated to wish to resort to force. Otherwise, I need hardly say, I should decline to leave my daughter within the sphere of our operations." - Nash shot a quick look at Irma, who was listening nervously. Not for the first time, he felt aq intense curiosity to know how far she was in her father’s confidence.

On the one hand, each minute that passed was confirming his first imfression of her —a schoolgirl merely, reah from her Brussels convent, young even for her age, and with little know-, ledge of the world; on the other, he had sensed once or twice in her—in the train coming down, and since—a hint of painful embarrassment which implied that she knew more of her father’s affairs than she had admitted to him. And yet the two impressions, perhaps, were quite easily ‘ reconcilable ? . For an ingenious schoolgirl such as she seemed to be might well be embarrassed by the need to conceal even the most innocent secret—by some harmless, domestic responsibility, maybe, which a more seasoned nature than hers would have shouldered without a moment’s uneasiness ?

The Russian was speaking again: “If you remain, then, Mr. Nash, I may assume the question —of expenses has been settled?” Nash shook his head. “You’re offering more than I can take —at least, till I’m convinced that I’ve some prospect

of earning it.” “Very well. Then my daughter shall hold this sum in trust for you”—he passed the notes to the girl —“but on the understanding it is yours to claim when you like. And co now, to business —” He sat down by Irma's side on the divan and lit a fresh cigarette. “Just now I referred to the affair—the mission—which has brought me to London. Precisely what it is I am not free to disclose. f ßut this much I may say: I am the bearer of a vitally important message, from certain diplomatic sources in the States, to an agent in England. It is not merely that this message is in itself secret and confidential; it is ho less (essential that the mere fact of my approaching the agent should not be "disclosed. I have not seem him yet; I took this bungalow as a leisured visitor, and have since hardly stirred from it; for before carrying out my task I hoped to assure myself that I was not being watched. “Well, Mr. Nash, my hopes have not been fulfilled. Unfortunately, there are certain persons interested enough' to keep an eye on me —to find out whom I approach in London, and, if possible, why. They have, failed to this extent, that I discovered the bungalow was being watched,' and so was on my guard. I have been faced; since - yesterday, with the problem of .how to give my watchers the slip while I carry out my mission ' ' “Hence my pretended journey up to London to-day. I went no farther than Richmond, where I picked up the bicycle I had in readiness there and returned to' the bungalow. Not even Irma knew that I should be back so soon. I meant to send the watchers off on a false trail, and use the - interval to perform my task in their absence ... I make myself clear, I hope?” Nash nodded. “Go on.” “This fog would have helped me admirably- But then came a surprise; Irma wa« gone; and since she had agreed not to leave the bungalow, it seemed to ,me fairly obvious that she had been decoyed away. I had to ask myself why; and," once more, the answer was obvious.”' “Not to me,” said. Nash, wrinkling. “But reflect. I had been shadowed to Twickenham station, where I' took care to let my shadower hear me book for Victoria; and from Victoria, I assumed, my shadower meant to follow mb through London and find out where I went. In fact, he or a friend of his did pick me up at Victoria—or, rather, he picked up you—as you know to your ccst . . . But when I found that Irma had been decoyed from the bungalow, it became obvious that my enemies were more numerous than I had bargained for.” “How ?” “Why, my dear sir, because there was no point in getting her away from here, if their sole object was to shadow me in London. One party, I inferred, was to follow me —indeed, they dared not lose sight of me; and meanwhile, a second party was to search the bungalow in our absence: hoping to find, either on my person in London or hidden here, the message with which I had been entrusted . . , “That plan was carried out. You deputised for me in London, and were doubtless well searched in the cab.

Meanwhile, this place was ransacked. » But our friends failed again; there was nothing here for them to find; nor would "there have been anything for them to find on me had they drugged me instead of you in London. I was not, so to speak, born yesterday!” ! “Then they are no farther on ?” “They are this much farther, Mr. Nash. * They have assured themselves that I carry no written message—or rather, they will have so assured themselves when they have been through all the papers which they found here this • evening. But that- will 'take time —” The Russian glanced at his watch. . *‘l know now where they live. I see no reason to expect them back for another half-hour, at least.” Irma cut in, incredulous. “They are coming back, daddy?” (To be Continued).