MURDER

Taranaki Daily News, 21 March 1934, Page 11

MURDER

(By

John Arnold)

- CHAPTER 8 (continued). „ . I remained sunk in gloom until I felt the train slackening speed as we approached Salisbury. Then I cheered up a little. At any rate the station would, be more cheerful to look at than the unspeakable countryside. It was twentyfive minutes to one and it seemed a long time since I had had breakfast I could get something to eat I cheered up stUl' further. The train came to a standstill at the long platform. I ‘jumped out and made my way to the refreshment room, where, after a display of some patience and a great deal of determination, I succeeded in obtaining a lunch basket and a bottle of claret, that was probably like ink, but that would be better than nothing. With my spoils I returned in triumph to my carriage.„ I got in and heard someone follow me. I turned’ and ’recoghisecT a ’man’ who had been behind me in the refreshment' zoom. ;

“This seat taken?” he asked with a jerk of his head towards the comer seat opposite mine. I told him that it was not,. and he promptly established himself in it. I felt grateful to him. I prayed that he might be a talkative soul. I was in a mood to appreciate conversation of any sort with anyone. I began my luncir and studied him covertly. A very ordinary man he was, middle-aged-and rather fat- He was dressed in a perfectly respectable and unostentatious blue serge suit There was • nothing to distinguish him from hundreds of other men. Suddenly I made a discovery. Our eyes met and I realised that he had been studying me as closely as I had been examing him. We both'looked down as men do when they meet each other’s gaze. I began to be vaguely uncomfortable. Of course the man had a perfect right to. s+jire cautiously at me. Had I npt beeu■ doing, the same to him? Probably .his motive was the same as mine, just idle curiosity. But I was- in a mood to be rather sensitive of the curiosity of strangers. I swallowed a few mouthfuls and then looked up again suddenly. Again I found the man’s eyes full on me. Surely this was more than usual curiosity? In any case he was beginning to get on my nerves. I drank a glass of wine—l had been right; "it. did taste like ink—l saw over the rim that the other’s eyes never left me. It was as .though he were learning my very features off by heart, I became positive that his motives for getting:into"my' carriage had-been-de-finite and fixed. It had not been mere chance. .. “That fellow,” I said to myself quite calmly, “is a detective.” Slow that he had aroused my suspicions, his appearance seemed to suggest his calling. He was so ordinary. I had only known one detective in my life, and that had been the man who had chased me through .London on the ■night before. This man might have been his twin, not in actual personal appearance, but in manner and atmosphere. Oh, yes, without any doubt whatever, this man was a detective. By some miracle the police had picked up my tracks. I could not for the life of me think how, but I was . quite certain thM they had done so. I might have been told, so convinced was I, that this man was trailing me. _ Panic seized me, a panic more terrible because I dared, not show any signs of it. I felt a drop of perspiration begin to roll down my forehead. I finished my meal, leaving the salt railway ham practically untasted. I had no more appetite. I swallowed the last of the claret at a gulp. Through half-closed lids I saw that the ; man had finished his inspection of me and was now carefully reading something written on a piece of paper. I wondered what it was. Then followed a feeling that at any cost I must see what was written on that paper. I racked my brains, trying to find a plan that would accomplish’it In search of inspiration my eyes travelled slowly up to the roof of the carriage. On the I saw the man’s suitcase. I saw my chance and jumped to take it “Your case looks very unsafe,” ! said. The man half rose ■ and turned to his right so that the paper was at right angles to me. I got up as though to help him secure the case, and edged over to my right I had one quick glance downwards, before he turned round again and said suspiciously: “It seems all right.” , , “Sorry,” I said. “I once had a suitcase fall’ on me. Perhaps I’m nervous.” He gave me a searching glance and then returned to his paper. I leaned back in my corner. I had seen enough to satisfy me I had seen, at the top-of the paper, my name Philip Gilmour. And I was quite positive that the rest of it was a description of me. I now had facts to confirm my instincts. The man was a detective. ’ , _ , . Now that my fears were definitely proved I felt curiously calm about them. I knew that I was in danger. It was up to me to meet the danger. I.asked myself why the man was thoroughly studying my description when I was sitting opposite him in the flesh. The answer came almost at once. It was happening as Monsieur - le Marquis’ servant had said it would. My appearance was not really altered, but there was sufficient difference for this detective to be genuinely uncertain as to whether I was tha man he was after or not. He thought that I- was Philip Gilmour, he was almost sure I was, but the ‘almost was enough to make him cautious. I knew from the newspapers that a warrant for me had been issued. I wondered whether, this man .had it I decided that he had not The detective who had. charge of the base, in London would probably reserve the honour and glory of arresting me for himself.’ This man was in all likelihood being sent on ahead to keep me in view until his superior and the warrant could arrive. Then I fell to wondering how they had known that I was on this train. After half an hour's intense thought I gave it up. I hoped that I should learn £ course of time. I felt genuine admiration for the police. They had persistently hung on my track in spite of everything that I had been able to do. And I fettered myself that I had not made their task too easy/ Besides admiration them. I also felt considerable discomfort for myself- In common with most readers of detective fiction, I fiafi

always had the idea that the British police were “the muddlers” of the first order. Now I was coming in personal contact with their relentless efficiency, and I did not like it. I wondered what would happen when we got to Bullhaven, dr to Exeter for that matter Should I be arrested? I could see no earthly reason why I should not be. Then out of the welter came a gleam of hope. I was travelling as Edward Farrant, with credentials in my pocket and a school at Brighton as a reference. The detective’s study of my description had given me the idea that he was mQre or Itss doubtful of my identity. Would thal same doubt safeguard me from arrest? I thought that it might There was only one person in England who could definitely identify me with the man who had been in the room at Pitt Street with the dead man; and that was Mary Jackson. The bought gave me a bitter little twinge. That girl had the power to send me to the gallows and she would not scruple why should she—to use that power. It was a hateful idea. It made me squirm and curse. I prayed to God to give me time to justify myself in her eyes. What happened after I had done that, I did not care. . From day-dreaming I came back to a practical consideration of my case. Neither of the. detectives had actually seen the “wanted” man. The suspect differed in several details from their description of the former. Should they arrest the suspect and find afterwards that they had made a mistake, things would be decidedly unpleasant for them. As I thought it all out, I came more and more to lean on the hope- that they would be too doubtful. to .do anything but shadow me until they could have definite proof. _ " , ~ The train stopped at Exeter. I felt the detective’s eyes glued on me. I moved towards the door and he half rose, t laughed to myself and deliberately kept him on tenderhboks. I opened, the ’door and got out; He moved towards me. ' There was something incredibly comic about him, He was so patently nervous that I was going to, make a bolt for it. The guard’s whistle -blew and I got leisurely back into the carriage, could have sworn that I heard a sigh of relief behind me. The grey afternoon wore on and. we plunged into the Devonshire hills, winding about without any apparent sense of direction. The country was much less .depressing, than the flat Home Counties, and I felt almost happy., I was beginning to find that the human brain and soul cannot despair or fear perpetually. I had been in danger for getting on ; for twentyrfour hours now, and I was getting used to it. I felt that the time would soon, come when I should take being hunted by the police for my life quite as a matter:of course. • As ’twilight came, we branched off on to a little single line,. meandering along very pleasantly and in quite a different fashion from our’ roaring progress of the morning. We were getting near our destination. Presently the train slowed down for the last time. I collected my belongings and stood up. The detective did likewise- For perhaps a second we stood facing each other. “Now,” I said to myself pugnaciously. “We’re there, . and you can do your damnedest, Mr. Detective. You’ll find it’s not so easy to keep an eye on me outside a railway carriage as jt is inside. Carry on, my fine fellow.” - The train stopped and I wondered what was going to happen. . (To be continued).