The House in the Way

Taranaki Daily News, 6 September 1935, Page 13

The House in the Way

By

Colin Hope

Author of the “Phantom Killer.”

CHAPTER THREE (continued). “It was deadly white, white as chalk; and the eyes seemed to flame—like two burning coals. I can’t describe it at all adequately. The impression I got was momentary, but I know it was enough to frighten me more than I have ever before been frightened, and when he put his hands on my neck I thought I should die with terror. After that I knew no more until I awoke to find you bending ovex’ me.” The two were silent for a while, and Frank closely examined the marks of brute fingers on his sister’s neck. At last he said: “I can't understand it. It seems as if it was done to frighten us. The horrible face may be nothing of importance, perhaps just a little paint or a mask, and I never heard of anybody strangling a person by pressing on the top of the chest. The johimio who attacked you had his fingers at least two inches too low to do any great damage. He has made a red mark or two, and that is about all.” “I am sure it is another move in the game to get us out of this house—and if I had my way we’d go to-morrow. We should be far better off in London. I could get a job and earn real money, instead of hanging on here trying to live on a few chickens that lay eggs when they think they will. They don’t think very often, either.” This was likely to begin another long argument, such as had been a feature of their lives for the last few months. Frank was anxious to sell the house — their sole legacy from a benevolent but improvident father—and try his fortune in a big city, London for preference. Netta, on the other hand, had no desire to leave the district. She loved the country, and hated the purposeless hurlyburly of the towns. In addition, she was practical enough to realise that once they parted with the roof which covered them they were taking a plunge into the unknown that might lead to disaster. The country she knew and loved, and was confident that, given an even chance, she could manage to keep her head above water. In town, where both she and her brother would be strangers, there were thousands of unknown dangers. Neither of them was equipped to face the intense competition that they were likely to meet, and if they were to go under she preferred to fail on her own soil rather than amongst strangers whose ways were far different from those she knew and understood. Netta had no wish for another unprofitable argument on the subject. Although she had quickly recovered from her fright and was able to look back upon it without any particular terror, she was still feeling shaken. “I am going to make a cup of tea,” she said, rising. “There is no more sleep this night, and now we are up we may as well do something useful. As soon as it is light enough I am’ going to have a look round outside to see if our visitor has left any clues. To-morrow — no, I mean to-day—l am going to see about getting a dog.” CHAPTER FOUR. NETTA RECEIVES ANOTHER SHOCK. When Chichester re-opened his eyes, he lay for some minutes trying to collect his scattered senses. Fortunately the blow had been a glancing one,' otherwise he would have sustained a serious injury; a man less strong might easily have been killed. As it was, his head was quite painful enough, and he could not suppress a- groan of anguish as he endeavoured to rise. He looked at the house, and then he recollected the scream that had brought him from the highway. His anxiety for Netta’s safety urged him to action, but it did not blind him to the need for caution. If he was to keep up his role of a holidaymaker in the district it was essential that he got back to his bedroom at The Whip before daylight, which was by this time barely an hour away, yet he could not go until he was satisfied that all was well with the girl. He noticed a light in one of the lower windows, and crept forward to investigate. A chink at the side of the blind enabled him to see into the room where Frank and Netta were discussing the happenings of the night. As he looked he saw the youth bend down to examine his sister’s neck, and although Guy could not hear a word of their conversation, he could see that the girl had been attacked and that, for the present at least, the danger had passed and that she was little the worse for the adventure.

He made up his mind that for the present he would say nothing of the part he had played in the adventures of the night, but that he would get back to the inn as fast as possible and endeavour to hide his identity a little longer. There seemed to be nobody about as he vaulted the front fence once more and hurried along the road. In the east there was the slightest suspicion of lightness, in the sky, and he knew he must hurry if he was to get back unobserved. Once h? narrowly escaped detection, jumping into deep cover only just in time to avoid meeting a farm hand on his way to work. Apart from that his journey was without incident, and as he closed his bedroom window behind him he congratulated himself on his luck. A hurried search of his room, however, tended to disturb his optimism. Everything seemed in perfect order, and nothing was missing as far as he could sec, but the room had an air of disturbance which worried him. He examined the door of the room carefully and to his dismay he found that the hair he had gummed across it had been broken. Obviously some unauthorised person had been in the room during his ab-

sence and he had little doubt that Harry, the barman and general factotum, knew something of the affair. He was worried—not because the room had been examined, for he was sure that nothing incriminating was hidden among his effects—but he realised that his absence- from the room during the night could only be interpreted in one way, and it would meap that his enemies were on their guard, or, what was more likely, would initiate action against him. The damage was done, and no amount of regrets could undo It. Chichester did not let it keep him from his overdue rest, and in a short while he was once more soundly asleep and dreaming. A few more hours’ rest sufficed, and soon after eight o’clock he awoke, fully refreshed and ready for what the new day might hold. After breakfast he decided that he would visit the girl and try to And out what had happened during he did not intend to reveal the fact that he had been in the vicinity of the house at the time of the occurrence. He noticed that Harry the barman watched him as he left the inn, and so took the road which led in the opposite direction. The weather was still genial the night. He would have to be very careful how he broached the subject, for and the slightly longer' walk, did not worry mm. A FAMILIAR FIGURE. Travelling by this circuitous route it was necessary for. him to pass The Wychets to reach the girl’s house, the Oaks, and as he did so he noticed a man working near the gateway. 'Hie man was bending down over something which lay at the edge of the drive and his back was toward Chichester, but as Guy gazed at him, something about the man’s neck and head seemed familiar. He passed on quickly lest the man should turn and the recognition become mutual, but afterwards he wished that he had stopped and hidden where he could study the man unseen, for, try as lie. did,- he could not remember where he had seen that neck and head before. When he reached The Oaks, Netta was in the front garden and she greeted him with a smile of welcome. “I had no chance to thank you for your help last night,” she said, when he came up to the fence. “Won’t you come in?—although I must warn you that Frank is still inclined to be rude to you.” Chichester laughed as he followed the girl into the house. . . “I am afraid Frank has a lot to learn from life,” he said, “but we must be tolerant, he is young.” _ On the previous evening it had been the girl’s voice that had captivated him. It had been impossible to make any real estimate of her general appearance, but around the voice Guy had built a mind picture of her, a picture he had feared would be destroyed in the full light of day. Now' he knew that his imagination had not exaggerated. Netta was not, perhaps, quite so petite as the dim light had' led him to suppose. She was slim, but well proportioned, and her firm step and upright carriage denoted that strength of character she had revealed in her handling of her brother. As he walked behind her, Guy steimly checked his insane desire to kiss her just where her trim shingled hair met the delicious creaminess of her neck, and again as she turned to him, her full red lips, set in an almost perfectly oval face, and contrasting vividly with the raven blackness of her hair almost tempted him to do what he knew would be fatal to all his hopes of knowing more of this wonderful girl. He floundered hopelessly in an endeavour to find a suitable opening to the conversation. He was not a man to shine at small talk, and even the weather let him down badly, it was too seasonable and comfortable, too ordinary, to be worthy of discussion. “You like our countryside, Mr.—, the girl helped him out. “Chichester,” he supplemented. Guy Chichester—l don’t think I, need addvery much at your service.” Netta laughed. “I had forgotten we hadn’t been propnly introduced. My name is Netta Fanshaw. Frank, of course, is my brother, and we are just a couple of orphans trying to fight this hard world for a living—assisted by Bluebeard and Ali Baba with their numerous wives and offspring. Bluebeard and Ali Baba do the shouting while their harems do the work.” „ “They are the cockerels, I presume, Guy laughed. . He was quite ready to stay talking to this girl all day-for many days-but he realised that he was getting nowhere. He was anxious to learn something of that happening of the night, and of the story he knew lay behind the systematic fleecing of Frank Fdnshaw. He believed that through these two he would get a lead that would help him in his own mission. . , , While the girl was talking, he noticed two dark bruises on her neck, and she, seeing his interest 3nd guessing his unspoken question, began to tell him of the He examined the bruises, and interrogated her closely about the appearance of the intruder. She was not able to tell him much, for the room had been dark and her glimpse of the face in the light of the torch had been momentary. She told him of her brother's suggestion that the man had either worn a mask or had painted his face, and Chichester was inclined to agree that such was the case.

“To me it looks very much like an attempt to frighten you,” Chichester said. “I don’t think any real harm was intended, thank goodness. Had anything

else happened thr' might suggest that somebody was anxious to have you out of the house? Has anybody tried to bum it?” “We have been pestered to sell, in fact I had begun to think that there must be a gold mine hidden under the house.” Chichester was interested. “That seems strange. Of course, you have no idea who is the intending purchaser. All offers have come through an agent, have they not?” , It was Netta’s turn to be surprised. “How did you know?” she asked. “I didn’t know. I can’t even guess why they are so anxious to have you out of the way,' but I am sure that whatever the reason, you would not be approached directly by the man who wants the house. That is, of course, unless I am much mistaken in the identity of the man—and I am prepared to stake all I possess that I am not mistaken. But why have you refused to move? I assume that the offer for the house has been satisfactory.” •‘Yes, they have been good offers. I must confess I have been very much tempted to sell, and I rather think you are mistaken when you guess at the would-be purchaser. The agent made no secret of his client’s identity. It is Sir Douglas Montague, an explorer. He spent a holiday in this district some years ago, and as he is retiring he wants to settle down here in this house.” “I have never heard of Sir Douglas Montague,” Guy answered, “but I would swear that he is not the man who is’ after this house. The agent may be quite honest, but it is unlikely that he knows Sir Douglas—if such a man exists—and there is no reason why he should bother about the bona fides of his client providing he is satisfied that he has the necessary money to make the purchase. ' “I know I am asking a lot from you, in view of the fact that until last night we had not met, and even now you know very little about me, but I am going to ask you to behave that although I cannot guess why your house is so desirable to this mystery man, I am sure that he intends to use it for no good purpose and that, you will be doing ;pe a great service if you refuse to move. But you have not told me why you turned down the offer.” “I have been tempted to accept, and but for Frank 1 probably should have done so.” “But I should have thought that a

young man like your brother appears to be would welcome a change. Th® big towns are very attractive to young men.” “That is just the point,” Netta explained. “Frank is anxious to sell, and if Dad had not left things so that I have the greatest say in such matters, he would have accepted the first offer. As it is I am afraid: afraid for Frank’s sake. It is difficult to talk about one’s own brother, but even you—in the short time you have known him—must see how unstable, how easily led, he is. ' “We' both know the country, and here I can keep him in' check, but in town I fear be would be too much for If he happened to fall in ' the wrong sort of company, I don't know what would happen to him- Besides, neither of us is 'trained to earn a believed we were well off until Daddy died. Here we can manage to keep afloat. Poultry farming is hot a quick road to fortune but we can just manage to live, that is if . . .” “If your brother becomes a little more helpful and does not play cards with strangers,” Guy supplemented. (To be continued).