THE JADE TOKEN

Taranaki Daily News, 3 December 1930, Page 11

THE JADE TOKEN

(By 1

RALPH TREVOR)

CHAPTER XlV.—(Continued.) “What else can I assume?” she asked, with a helpless gesture of her slim, white hands. “I admit it must appear rather like that to you, but if I could think that you might be interested in my real motive in inviting you here to-night, I will tell you.” “A woman is always interested in a man’s motives when they concern herself.” ‘Then I may say that the reason I asked you was because I love you.” Eitrke felt terribly conscious that his words sounded trite and insincere. He had never imagined that he would have to make a declaration of love under such hcsrt-rending circumstances. He would have preferred something much more in keeping with his own views on romanticism.

The effect of the man’s words on the girl were peculiar. He noted the Hood of colour to her cheeks, the almost seductive lowering of her eyes and he could see that she had npt quite expected him to say what he had done. .

With a swift, sudden movepienf, Burke leaned forward across the table and attempted to take her hands in Iris, but she seemed to anticipate the movement and withdrew them.

“Please, Mr.-Burke,” she said, raising her eyes to his. . - “You wanted to know my motive,” he warned her, “and now. ...”

Thoughts were running in a riotous confusion through Ann Marvin’s usually well-ordered mind. It was not Burke’s words had actually staggered her. She was sufficiently conscious of her own charm to know that they were excusable. Neither was she- altogether displeased. From the moment she had met Burke at Bio Court she had been aware that he was the kind of man the right Sort of woman could not help loving He had personality.; was a, brilliant conversationalist; lie had a distinctive appearance and, she did not doubt, the capacity for that kind, of tumultuous love most women admire but seldom achieve.

“I think I understand —now,” sighed tho girl, looking across at Burke, fear;les§ly. “Yes, you are quite" right. Yom did see me along the corridor.” Burke’s heart sank. Her words seemed to burn deeply down into his heg-rt, and a: though she had been, quick to divine the torment her announcement had occasioned hint she went on: “But lam not a thief. I don’t want you to believe that. That night I went out for a little walk because I could not sleep. You will remember that I was fnily dressed and that I had my hat and coat on. Need we pursue the subject further seeing that it has alreadv caused us both a volume of doubt?”

Aiih Marvin,.was laughing, again now -and Burke’s eyes were brighter. “Can you ever forgive me, Ann? Can you ever forgive, me for doubting you for one moment? T shall never forgive myself, and I can only repeat that when I told you, I loved , you,. I meant , that.” The laughter was still in her eyes as she answered him.

“Perhaps we shall have an opportunity of talking about that some other time,” she said. “To talk about love one mu6t be in a certain well-prepared frame of mind and—alone,” she added significantly. Burke felt more at ease. A : black shadow had been removed from his life. Ann Marvin was innocent. No girl could look as she did now if she were anything else. And he loved her; and he had told her. What did anything else matter.

Just then an attendant appeared to say that a Miss Marvin was wanted on thu telephone and Ann followed him into the vestibule where the call box stood. /

Burke watched her go with a feeling that he had declared his love to the most wonderful and the most innocent girl in the whole of London, but' if he had heard the conversation Ann Marvin was having on the telephone, Curtis Burke might have been reluctantly compelled to reconsider his decision. x Ann heard a man’s voice come over the wire from somewhere in the dark void outside. It said: “The Fanshawe Ruby . . . to-morrow night . . . without fail.” And Ann Marvin paled a little for the second time that night as she replaced the receiver with a hand that trembled. CHAPTER XV. the anonymous letter. .The day following', Burke’s dinner party with Ann Marvin, found, him applying himself to his task of elucidating the' mystery that still perplexed him. A few clues had dribbled in from the subordinates who were aetin<r on the case under Burke’s direction. One of them had been told off—greatly against Burke’s conscience—to watch Professor Browning, in case he might be more intimately connected with the murder of the owner of the jade token than was anticipated. Another had the Jdles Conn end of the affair and had been paying strict attention to that gentleman without, his knowledge until, of course, someone touched him on the arm just as he was about to board the boat at Harwich for Rotterdam. Burke had the various reports in front of him on his desk. They were aggravatingly slight. He had a full acrccount of Professor Browning’s position. There was nothing suspicious ibout them; nothing, in fact, that would lead Burke to assume that the lid gentleman was a crook. The problem with Conn was rather lifferent. Ames had admitted that he cnew the dealer in antiques for a ■lever fencer who had hitherto managed to. keep well within the Jaw. Row le hid managed to do this, neither

Burke nor Ames knew and Mr. Conn wae much too astute a .person to start educating Scotland Yard at his time of life.

Burke was puzzled about Conn. He had searched the records in the library about - him but little if anything at all wae known. To. all intents and purposes he was a respectable dealer with a large and prosperous clientele. Why, even Sir Garvice Watkin’s name appeared on his • books. Yet Burke could • not help, thinking that if a search —a thorough search—were made of Conn's Bond . Street establishment something material to the present case might be found. With this thought in mind he decided to approach Ames on the matter rather than worry - the Divisional Superintendent whom, he knew, had an important case of hie own that had got as far as the Central Criminal Court. But-Ames- was nowhere to be found. He had been down earlier in the morning but had gone away again without stating where he was-going, and when he would- be back. Burke felt annoyed. Why was it that always when he particularly wanted Inspector Ames he was nowhere to be found ? This was not the first time. There had been others—dozens, in fact, that Burke now readily called to mind. It could not be coincidence—that would b". stretching the conventions a little

too far. There was something more in these' periodical disappearances, of the man who was supposed to be working with him <• . this - case, and Burke told himself that assuming Ames was actively engaged in tracking down the miscreant he was singularly mute whenever Burke had • asked him about it. He would say: “Been off, on a wild-goose-chase around Deptford,” or “had the most wretched luck on the Hereford

Road. Thought I’d got on the track of our elusive friend only to find that I’d been tricked or side-tracked somewhere.” And that was all Burke ever got out of him. ~ But it was important that he should consult Ames on this matter of Jules Conn; He did not .feel e<qual to shouldering the ' responsibility himself. Not that he was afraid of the acid tongue

of his superiors, but it was usual ■when two were \ engaged on a case ..for .the ,other to b'A consulted before a warrant of any description was issued. Burke lunched, at the Gala Club behind the Law Courts, and kept thinking of Ann Marvin. It was strange how much the girl had been in his thoughts since last night. Very strange indeed. The afternoon dragged on and he walked down Bond Street past Conn’s window and looked inside. Conn was

not there. Hie assistant, a little baldheaded man. informed him that Mr. Conn was “out of town,” one of those pathetically vague excuses so useful in most well-organised businesses when it is not convenient to interview an undesirable customer. From there Burke made his way into Fleet Street and ran iiito / Billy Weston, the “star” reporter on The Comet.

“Hello,” greeted the reporter, cheerfully. “Got anything for me yet? Any erpmbs will do that chance to fall from tho rich man’s table. I’m starving. Not had a decent meal since Sir Garvice had me weep over the culpabilities of Mr.' Joe Denver., Don’t say you’re going to send me away empty?” Burke smiled. He rathei’ liked this-bright-eyed young man' with the fresh pink complexion. He had always found him the soul of honour —a man whb could be trusted never to 'give the game away merely because it suited his purpose for a sensational headline. “You might say that Scotland Yard is busily following up a new clue as regards the murder of Ricks in Dr. Langley’s consulting-room, a 1 clue, I might add, that promises to furnish some startling developments.” Billy Weston groaned and made a wry face. “Good Lord, Burke! I always gave you credit for being an original thinker. No, not on your life. I’ve got some-

thing better up my sleeve than that. But what about a drink? Wo can't stand here,” and he indicated The Cock, on the opposite side. “We’ve just got time.”

Burke followed him into the tavern and seated himself while Weston pulled a glip of paper from his pocket and handed it to him with the remark: “We received it this morning. What about it?”

The detective read the letter, which was addressed to the editor and signed conventionally, “Justice.” Its contents rather appalled him, for it suggested that Scotland Yard should first clean out their own nest before paying attention to others. After this rather cryptic remark it went on to suggest that Inspector Ames, who, jtogether with Curtis Burke, who mad charge of the murder case and the robberies, wag not the type of man most desirable for such a task. “Scotland Yard,” it proceeded, “should first satisfy themselves that the Inspector Ames it knows to day is the same personality who left England for America and returned some little time ago.” Burke was frowning. The letter was typewritten on paper that was without any watermark, and the envelope, likewise typewritten, had been-posted at four o’clock the previous afternoon at the Strand Post Office. / “Of course von can’t do anything with this,” said Burke, uneasily. “It’s preposterous—monstrous. Could you leave it with me, Weston?” “I had thought of interviewing Ames about.it,” Weston admitted. ! “In fact, I’ve been searchina for him all day, but he’s disappeared. You don’t happen to know where he is, by any chance?” Burke shook his head. “No, I don’t, but I’m going to you a favour. Leave this letter with me and I’ll promise , you that, when something does happen—and it won’t be very long, I’m thinking—you'll be the first in on it. How does that suit you?" "Agreed.” exclaimed Weston heartily. "Of course 1’ didn’t expect Ames

to make a full confession of his many misdeeds. But all the. same, either there’s some truth in what tho writer says or else the writer has a bee in his bonnet.” ■ “What makes you think it’s a man who wrote that letter?” asked Burke. “Look at the full-points,” Weston told him. “They’re almost cut clean through the paper. That’s a man’s touch —heavy. A woman’s touch us lighter, and you can always tell by looking at the punctuation. A man is more definite. When he’s finished a sentence, down goes his full-stop with a bang.” . Burke looked thoughtful. Weston was quite right. The tdueh was heavy. “I think you’ll be hearing from me quite soon,” he said, as he shook the reporter’s hand. CHAPTER XVI. WHAT BURKE SAW. That same night Curtis Burke remained at Scotland Yard until the clocks were striking teii, hopeful that Inspector Ames would put in a belated appearance, Ho had ’phoned Ames’ house more than once only to meet with the same reply on each occasion. Inspector Ames was not expected home until late. Burke was not in the best of tempers. He felt —and rightly so—that Ames had let him down; that Ames was not playing the game. There was only one thing to be done and Burke decided to do it. He would go out to Hampstead and wait—all night if I necessary—until Ames returned. j (To be continued.).