THE Tarrington Square Mystery

Taranaki Daily News, 30 January 1934, Page 11

THE Tarrington Square Mystery

(By

M. L. Eades)

CHAPTER 15 (continued) On arriving at his destination he dismissed his car, not knowing how long he might be detained. Winston had known this Harley Street doctor for a number of years; since he was a lad, in fact. His father and the doctor had ■been dose friends in the old days before the crash which-had revolutionised Winston’s whole mode of life; from being a young man of wealth and position he had become a worker for his daily bread. ' They discussed the matter that had brought Winston there that evening, then the conversation had drifted to the old days, so that it was nearing twelve o’clock before Winston finally took his leave. He managed to pick up .a taxi almost immediately, but paid it off _at the corner of Gower Street, preferring to walk that short distance. The night was dark, very dark; but after the rush and heat of the day Winston enjoyed the quiet and stillness of the night. He took off his hat, walking bareheaded until he arrived at his quarters. The small iron gate was open, and as he stepped in off the pavement, he replaced his hat, his right hand seeking the latch-key in his pocket. Something, a' sound perhaps,- maybe an instinct of danger. Crash came a sickening blow I Winston staggered; then fell to the ground ... Winston picked himself up, and sought to pull himself together. Came the sound pf footsteps ... running . . . growing fainter ... fainter . . . Then he could not have been knocked out for more than a second or two. That was satisfactory at least. He felt badly shaken.—as if a battering-ram had used \ him for an objective; but he was thank-ful-to be alive. He ought to have been dead,- of course; as he would have been "'had his assailant got in his blow properly. That he had not was due to Winston’s sudden movement; to that sixth sense which Is extraordinarily developed in those who constantly face danger. The blow had been diverted;- it had fallen on his shoulder instead of his head as intended; in any case, he had not received its full force. He tried to raise his arm. It hurt horribly; but he could use Hr no bones were broken. As he went upstairs he wondered if his assailant' was the man he had seen loitering that night. It seemed likely, But who was he ? Who wanted him out of the way so badly that he was willing to go to the length of murder, to accomplish this ? . On reaching his room he poured himself out a stiff brandy and soda and felt better for it. On the table he found a cryptic wire from the Pup, which, when elucidated, informed Winston that Elton was now at God aiming,. where his actions were not only keeping the Pup busy, but vastly intriguing his in-

te-rest, ' CHAPTER XVI. UNSIGNED NOTE AND A RIDE. Clare walked leisurely down Chenies Street until, ahe came to Tottenham Court Road. Here she crossed oyer to the further side. She had a small purchase to make before she went to one of Lyons’ restaurants to get some lunch. Afterwards she would, go to Gower Street and look at the rooms Winston Barrows had recommended. There happened to be a sale on at the ’shop where she intended making her purchase, and, preoccupied with thoughts of her father’s letter, she soon found herself involved in a crowd of bargain-hunters. Tottenham Court Road is busy at any time of the day; during the dinner hour it is even busier. Add a sale and bargain-hunters, and foot traffic in that area becomes very congested indeed. Clare was hustled, and bumped, and jostled by fat women and by lean women. Everyone wanted to see what the windows had to offer before going inside to stretch the spending capacity of one pound into two. AH and sundry seemed possessed by a desire to go in a different direction one from the other. With the idea of withdrawing from this strenuous, but good-natured, crowd of people, Clare sought to make her way to the edge of the pavement. She was pulled up summarily by a young mother with a lean purse and eager eyes turned hungrily towards the shop windows, who steered the front wheel of a perambulator containing a pair of healthy twins sharply against Clare’s foot A niaii would have said “Damn, and felt better. Clare simply stood biting her lip and wincing with the pain—which was considerable; unable for the moment to . proceed. At this precise moment someone slipped a note into her hand. Taken by surprise she nearly let it drop; then turned quickly, to see who could have given it to her. In turning she collided with a basket carried by a spacious woman who laughed, said “Sorry,” and —blocked her view. ' It was annoying, but of course it must have been Warren Elton. She knew no one else. He wanted to communicate with her and had been on the-look-out for an opportunity to slip her a note unseen. Clare quite forgot that Elton could have communicated with her through ’Winston Barrows. She got out of the A crowd somehow, went to another shop, where she made her purchase, and while waiting for her change, opened the small piece of folded paper and read it It ran as follows:— “If I am to help you I must see ■you at once. Most urgent. D. H. Evans and Co. are having a sale. Gc'there and mix with the crowd. At 2.30 p.m. slip out side entrance near lift. Jump into brown Daimler which will be waiting.” There was no signature; but not for an instant did Clare question the identity of the writer* In all this great and wonderful city she had no friend but Warren Elton. and, yes, Miss Johnstone ■ had proved herself a friend, and she would always count on Winston Barrows as such; but neither of them would have reason to give her a note surreptitiously. No, it was Warren. Something to do with the case had cropped up; something about which he had to speak to her. , . . Without a shade of misgiving Clare changed her plans immediately. She would lunch at Evans’ to-day. Walking along slowly—as if time were no object—until she came to a comer where a bus

going down Oxford Street would stop, she waited, then jumped on just as the bus was moving. No one got on aftei i her at that halting place, so she hoped ■ that she had succeeded in shaking off . Mason’s man, who was certain to be following her as usual. Clare partook of a hurried lunch, then went to the ready-made dress department. Here she chose a green silk washing frock which suited her slight figure well. Telling the girl that she would wear it now that- she had it on, she left the dress she had been wearing to be sent to her at Linden House. She next chose a green felt hat, giving instructions fox her grey one to be sent llome with -her grey dress. _ Now she felt more satisfied. Even if Mason’s man had not been shaken off earlier in the day he would not be looking out for a green dress and hat. Surely she ought to get away unobserved—but, oh, how she hated the necessity for this kind of thing. It was degrading. The fact was she was terrified on Warren’s account. It was sheer madness on his part to risk meeting her in this way; yet if she refused to comply with his request he would probably do something equally, if not more, unwise—that is, if.the matter were truly urgent. It was now five minutes off the half hour. The shop was thronged with people. • Hoping for the best, Clare mixed unobstrusively with the crowd gradually making towards the side entrance. At precisely two-thirty she passed out through the doorway with several other people. At the same moment a brown Daimler drew tip to the kerb.* A chauffeur in neat livery stretched out his arm and opened the door for her. Sho was no sooner in than -the car moved rapidly away. Fearful of being seen and followed Clare sat well back, with bent head. Her hat pulled well down afforded an excellent screen. The chauffeur—evidently an experienced driver — kept to the quiet streets at first—then into Seymour Street, across Edgware Road, gradually working down into the Bayswater Road. Clare was wondering where she was to meet Warren. She supposed he considered it safer to meet her further afield. Once in the vicinity of Holland Park, Clare thought she might venture to ask questions. But the driver neither turned his head nor made reply. . ; Clare frowned. She was certain that he had heard her. She began to wonder had she made a mistake and got into the wrong car. But there had been no other Daimler there. She leaned forward and touched the man on the shoulder peremptorily. . “Where are you taking me ?” she asked in a tone that brooked no denial. “Where do we meet—you 1” She shrank back in utter consternation. For the first time she had seen the chauffeur’s face, which he had kept assiduously turned away from her. Now as he looked at her a faint, sardonic smile showed round his mouth. “I—at your service—as always, Clare,” he returned, the smile more in evidence now.' “But—Mr. Le Page—l don’t understand.” He frowned. “Whom did you expect to see,.Clare?” “Not you,” she retorted sharply. “You are supposed to be in America.” His face took on a greenish tinge. _ “I arrived yesterday—flew over from Paris.” “Well, will you please explain now your motive for bringing me here _in this way? I have no intention of going . any further; so you might as well turn round and go back.” He vouchsafed no reply but drove on steadily; if anything he accelerated—the , Daimler was simply eating up the miles. ■ “Hawtry 1” exclaimed Clare, indignant at this buccaneer behaviour. “Was it necessary to resort- to such mad measures ! If you wanted to see me—to help me, you said, why did you not call in a straightforward manner ?” They shot swiftly past another car,

turned a comer, then slowea aown a little before he replied. “That is just what I could not do, Clare,” he told her. “Why do you suppose lam in this rig?—not as a joke, I assure you. Don’t you read the papers ? You must know that you are suspected of this murder, and that the police are on the look out for a tall,' dark man who was with you on Monday evening—the man you expected to meet this afternoon ?” and he shot a quick, suspicious glance at her. She met his glance coldly. “What do you want to see me about ?" she demanded. “And why come so far ? See, there are'no police about—you are quite safe,” she added with sarcasm. They were now skirting Putney Heath, making for the Kingston Road. “Stop the car and let us talk here. I must get back to London quickly. I have to look for new quarters this afternoon.” “Your little back room in Bloomsbury did not prove successful after all ?” he suggested, with a significant laugh. Clare shivered, No, it had not proved successful. She had sought adventure, but murder had never entered into her calculations. Hawtry Le Page made haste to apologise. “I was a brute to say that,” he exclaimed with contrition. “I did not mean it. But, Clare, you know me well enough to realise that I want to help you. I can help you. But I am not going to take unnecessary risks of being pounced upon by an over-zealous officer. You know you are safe with me—we were good pals in the old days. I’m taking you where we can speak without having to be on the qui vive all the time. I’ll bring you back to London by seven o’clock.” “AU right,” she replied, a little dubiously, however. It would be a bit late, but not too late to go to Gower Street. She had no reason to doubt Hawtry’s good faith. As he said, they had been good pals in Trinidad. He had been one of the crowd «of friends who had come to the boat to see her off; his was the last hand that had clasped hers before the gangways was removed. “I am going to speed up now, Clare. I wish that I could have you in front so that we could talk; but it’s wiser not. You sit back and enjoy the drive. It’s quite a decent run out here.” (To be continued.)