“THE TURN OF THE TIDE."

Star (Christchurch), Issue 17190, 6 November 1923, Page 12 (Supplement)

“THE TURN OF THE TIDE."

“ STAR ” NEW SERIAL.

By J

FRED M. WHITE.

CHAPTER N CONTINUED. • What, murder? You might be aMittle more explicit.” “My dear fellow, 1 can’t.” Ellis said, iowering bis voice impressively. • My lips arc sealed. You know why I came down here. It is not altogether to write lurid articles on tho life of tho submerged tenth ; there was a more powerful motive than that. I told you about it long ago. It was my idea that these big robberies tho part of isolated gangs of thieves, on the river were no mere exploits on but part of some elaborate, criminal machinery, presided over by some one man with not only a gift for organisation. but also one who has the command of unlimited funds. In other words, a gentleman in the cant sense of the word, ami a capitalist. Probably a merchant, and therefore in a position to handle thousands of pounds worth of goods at a time without incurring the least suspicion.” “ That sounds like a big order," Rust said thoughtfully.

“ A very big order. But I am onvinced that l am right, though 1 :(.uldn't have said as much a week .go. I believe that J am on the track the most daring set of scoundrels ri the world, and if 1 torn you who J ho.irrbt was at the head of the conipiracy, you would tall off your chair n sheer astonishment*. t\ hat would mu think if I said that 1 bad dined it the talde. and under the roof of -lie man who is pulling the strings?/ “Oh. I should have to believe it, Df course,” Rust said. “ But is that all vou have got to tell me? “"For the present, certainly. My dear chap, 1 dare not tell yon any acre. All I can promise is that you shall know as soon as anybody else. I said that Avor.v had been murdered, and I stick to it. and. what is more, 1 could tell you who is responsible for this cold-blooded crime. But just now 1 have something else to think about. If you will sit down and a cigarette. I will see that poor girl and break the news to bor.” Ellis returned half an hour later, looking rather white and serious. He had performed liis uncongenial task, and appeaved rather anxious to get rid of his companion. “ You might get Miss Langley to tell Vera that it will be impossible for the girl to return to the Moat House for a day or two.” he said. ”1 | will do ill that is necessary m the j meantime. I have just called uji Lock on the ’phone, and be tells me that the inquest will be held at Hampstead | to-morrow morning. Meanwhile, it is mv melancholy task to go as far as North London with Ada, so that she can identify the body. Ir the circumstances. my dear chap. J know you won’t mind my turning you out.” ■With that Rust vanished promptly, yivl Ellis proceeded to pass a terribly distressing afternoon. The gruesome thing was done at length, and he went back to Wftpping with his more or less distracted companion, and handed her over to the care of Ills landlady. The inquest was timed for too o’clock the next morning, and lie bad made up his mind to be there, not that he expected anything startling in the way of developments, but perhaps lie might hoar something likely to prove useful in an investigation which had by this time become almost an obsession with him.

At a few minutes past ten the next morning he found himself in a depressing little public house out Hampstead way. where in a dreary room the stolid jurymen were seated listening to what a business-like coroner had to say. Obviously, tho official in question attached little importance to the inquiry, which, irom his point of view, was quite a prosaic affair. He (‘Ut short what be had to say. and the police surgeon came forward to give evidence. At that moment a new comer walked into the room, a tall, elderly man with a long grey beard and a high, domelike forehead, fringed with silver hair. He nodded absently to FJlis. who eagerly ranged up alongside him. I hope you haven’t forgotten me. Professor Phillipson. I met you once or twice, if you remember, at the Moat House.”

“ Un. i recollect you perfectly well. Mr Ellis.” the great man murmured. “ l think you write thc.se riverside articles in the ' Telephone,' don’t you? Most realistic work.” ‘•lt is very good of you to say so.” Ellis replied. “ But tor my newspaper work, 1 shouldn't be here to-day. Yon see. the dead man was more or less a friend of mine, and 1 have every reason to believe that there is some things mysterious ” “Oh, have you indeed?” Phillipson interrupted in a harsh whisper. “ Then, between ourselves, so Lave 1. I an. not here casually, I was sent here by the Home Office after l had laid cer tain facts before the authorities. I know l can trust your discretion, and possibly we can help one another.” With that the professor turned ah ruptly away, as if lie did not want to continue the conversation, and quite tactfully FJlis appeared to be absorbed ; in what was going on. He heard what ! the police surgeon had to say with | regard to his examination fo ihe body, j and it seemed to him that there wa*» a kind of conspiracy afoot to keep cer | tain things back. ! “ J have examined the body." the j surgeon was saying. *-‘ And 1 liar • 1 como to the conclusion that deceased ! had been in the water for quite eight and forty houis.’ ! “You found no marks of violence?” j the coroner asked. i “ None whatever, sir. So far as 1 can ascertain, there was not oven a ! superficial bruise. i And no sign of internal injuries?’ (To be continued.)