THE GREEN GHOST

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXVI, Issue 20256, 16 March 1934, Page 12

THE GREEN GHOST

By

STUART MARTIN

(Author of “The Fifteen Cells,” “Ifabe Jardine,” “The Surf Queen” etc.)

CHAPTER lll.—(Continued.) Within Arm’s Length.

Mrs. Gibbs look the tray and left the room. One-eye moved noiseless!v across the floor and stood at the window, his shoulders and bullet head silhouetted against Ihe sky that, wag now clearing before the coining dawn. Presently he turned and sat on a chair, taking his pen-knife from his pocket and holding it as if he were about to cut a notch on his fiddle wood club; hut he seemed to change his mind. He snapped his knife shut and raised his head. ‘‘Guess Mis<* Barron kin tell us somethin’,” he said. Foster nodded and the girl took up her story. It, was short enough. She had been disturbed by the coming of a light at her window. Facing her was the terrible face and the beckon in" finger. The face was now within arm’s length of the sill. It seemed to hang in mid air, but the eyes were fixed on her menacingly, with a frightful, unearthly glare that caused her to scream. That was all she knew. She must have lost consciousness for a little. The next thing she remembered was the presence of Mrs. Gibbs and the coming of the two men. Foster turned to One-eve as she finished. “Did jor. find anything when you searched round the house just now? I heard you ordering the dog to be taken from his kennel.” One-eve shook his head. “Didn’t the dog get wind of anything? Didn’t he seem restless? Wasn't there a sign of a prowler at all?” Once more One-eye shook his head. “Guess Miss Barron can tell us jest why her bidder believed in de green ghost. Let’s have it, missy, ef yo’ doan mind.’* “It is a dismal affair” she said brokenly. “I know you and father talked about it. One-eye, because he went to the police some time ago. lie mentioned your name once to me, but he became very silent lately on the subject, and I had thought he had recalled' it.” " "His hallucination?” echoed Foster. “That is what I called it—-then. It was.about a year ago when we were over here on a trip that father had a bitter quarrel with a distant relation 1 never knew why enmity existed between them. T never asked, but I knew that the dislike, nay the hatred, wa-' deep and lasting between them. And then one day. after having spent a short time in the interior of this island, my father returned to this house. He was gloomy and depressed, and I saw that something was causing him anxiety. 1 thought it was his business affairs, but gradually 1 was convinced that it was something else. I pressed him several times to confide in me, offering to help in any way, but he always put me off, which was not like him. He was wearing himself down, his nerves were becoming frayed. He became irritable and morose. One night I heard a cry from his room. I went up at once and found him in a state of high nervousness and fear. When he was calmed down he told me that he had seen the ghost of the man I have mentioned—the man with whom he was at enmity.” “Then this man was dead?” said Foster; and the mulatto raised his head slowly. “Misteh Barron, he tole me dis man had didt; but before he died lie bin workin’ wid papaloys and mamalbys to bring some fierce curse on yo’ fadder. He thought de Votuloo folks had sent de ghost— ’* “Stuff and nonsense. It was merely brain fag and a rundown constitution,” exclaimed Foster. Foster was about to say more in a cynical vein, but he caught the glare in the mulatto’s single eye and lie stopped. "J thought so, too, at first,” resumed Maud Barron, “He was bordering on a collapse, but I saw that he took things quietly, and the doctor gave him medicine to calm him, so that I had every hope of his recovery. I wanted him to go to England to consult a specialist, but he did not go until business compelled him. That was only a month or •> ago.” “Why didn't you insist on the appointment of someone to relieve him of business? He was bound to see —” “He did. There was a young man who had been recoin mended to him, and he was appointed. Hughes is his name William Hughes. He came out here in the boat that followed ours, and he is here now'. lie is due back to this house within the next few hours." “Where has he been during the but few days?” “In the interior, seeing after the plantations. But let me get ori with my story. I thought that the appointment of tills assistant would give father time to rest, but it did not. He seemed more worried than ever, and his assistant, I fancy, has not turned out the efficient mail he was pictured to be. Anyway, since lie came here. Did you uotice any nervousness about him when we came out with you on your last trip, Dr. Foster ?” I certainly thought he was overworking, and I took the liberty of advising him to go slowly. 1 remember be once broached the matter of ghosts, but I didn't think it was a healthy subject for him just then, and turned the conversation. "All, that was his terrible bete noir. Only a week ago lie told me one evening that lie was confident that he was being pursued by this ghost of his late enemy. Nothing would persuade him otherwise. And that same night f was awakened by a cry from my father’s room, his study. 1 was in the hall at the time, and 1 rushed up. He was sitting in the chair in which we found him to-night; in the same position, with a look of the utmost horror on his face, it took me a Jong time to restore him to calmness and quietness. He told me that he had again seen this ghostly face—the green ghost, as he called it. He said it had come to his open window, glaring at bun revengefully and fiendishly. And he believed that he was being pursued by it.” fm S, ' e cowed her face with her hands loi a moment before proceeding. Co,,rse » I thought that his nerves wron » again, but he refused to 2 i ‘V, ? cto ‘- u " as the haid, that he wanted, and it was then he mentioned the name of One-eyed UttocU. He said he would see him.” Nevertheless i went to a local doctor and asked him to call on my father. He came a day or so later, and his examination was not very long. He said that we were to take no ‘notice of the green ghost as it was merely a hallucination and the result of a weak heart and a run down condition.” “Who wa . this doctor?” 1 “He has been here to-night.”

“There is little c' to tell. A second time I heard niv father cry out when he was in his study. Last night was the third time. He often stayed in his study working at his photography, using the apartment as a dark room. He used to take exposures of the bay at night. I had been warned by the doctor that lie had a weak heart, but whatever he died of I am confident that he did not take his own life.” “Who says lie did ” cried Foster, hoping to shield her from the thought; but she waved his protection aside. “Jt did not require the doctor to say so. I saw it in his face and I saw the revolver lying on my father’s feet But it cannot be true. I am sure he did not do that. He had only just been talking to me, an hour or two previously, about the future, and our plans. He was giving up business. He had written to Harry—Captain Swatliling—asking him to call when lie came to England. Captain Swatliling is on a long voyage to the East just now. Von know? There is something behind all this that I cannot. fathom. You two have seen the ghost near my own window. Wliv should it come now that he is dead? Why should it come to him at all? Is it true that the terrible religion of Voudooism is working a spell?” She bent forward towards the mulatto detective and her next question rang out in trembling, eager accents. Ton are a native. You arc a detective. You know the native mind and the native secrets. You know that Voiulooism is never fully understood bv whites and that the priests are believed* to have strange, weird powers. Is it possible that some demon of the underworld lias th'fi" r ? iS - t 0 haUnt Us? Can sueh “No Man Knows.” One-eve did not move, though the words were delivered with all the force of agonising earnestness. A deep silence filled the room. Then One eye’s hoarse tones broke on the ears that waited for his verdict. “Missy, no man knows jest what dem papaloys and mamalpys kin do, or what dev can’t do either.” It sounded as if the mulatto had spoken words of doom, and Foster strove to shake off the weight that was setting on his soul in spite of his scepticism. There burned in him a fierce desire to help this girl, who was alone in that awful position, with scarcely one hand to help her. “At any rate,” he said grimly, “I cannot accept that solution.” “Then you will help me to discover what killed my father?” “Yes,” he answered firmly, “I slial.’ help you, Miss Barron.” He turned to the detective. “You vourelf told me von did nol believe that Mr. Barron had killed himself.” One eye rose to his feet slowly, as if a weight, was heavy on his shoulders. “Wot T says doan go against, what de doc. says at de inquest, snh. Guess dat is so. Doc. Foster, when do yo’ ship sail fo* England ?” “The day after to-morrow.” “And Missy Barron was gwine wit her fadder in dat boat?” “She was, but—” “Ah guesH sh’d bettah go, seein’ as how some of de baggage is aboard now. Guess dat’s about, all we wanna know jest right heali. Y’o* coinin’ doc? Missy Barron’s bettah get acme sleep afore dr .inquest.” He moved to the door, opened it, and signalled to Mrs. Gibbs, who was stand ing at the end of the corridor waiting to return to her charge. Foster remained for a moment to give a few directions to the companion, and after once more assuring the girl that he was at her disposal whenever she might require him, he left, the apartment. Oneeye was awaiting him in the hall. The dawn had flushed up and the sun was streaming through the glass of the upper half of the door, making the day bright and glorious. ‘‘Where now, One-ej’eT Do you want me for anything?” “Guess you’ gwine hack to yo’ ship, doc, to tell yo’ skippah you wanna stay ashore untii sailing time? Guess you wanna sec all yo’ kin do t’lielp Miss Barron. I got one or two t’ings t’do, den £ kin come wit* you down town.” “1 want to he at the inquest, of course,” replied Foster. “Think of that “Guess we doan go out by de front door, suli.” And as he spoke, One-eye stepped towards the main door and turned the key in the lock. He slipped th«* key into his pocket and stood for a moment deep in thought. Finally lie stuck a fresh piece of chewing gum into his mouth and strode towards the servants’ quarters at the. back, while Foster followed wondering what was in the mulatto’s mind. The sound of voices came from the pantry and One-eye pushed open the door. The negro butler was standing jabbering away to the cook, a stout woman of his own colour. Neither of them was aware of the mulatto and Foster until the former jerked out a command, sharp and harsh. “Yo’ two—bed!” The two started at the interruption. “If any oilers are up tell ’em dc same —bed’s tie order. See?” “Yaas, suh!” gasped the butler. “Anoder t’ing. What time yo’ rise ordinarily ?” “Jest after six o’clock, suh.” “An’ yo’. lady?” “•Test afore seven, suh.” “Git!” The two moved out of the pantry like children caught by a schoolmaster. Onocye called after them, “An’ doan lemine see yo’ or de oilers until gitting* up time.” Foster saw something of the official in this. He became aware that a force was at work. One-eye turned on his heel. He passed on towards the rear of the house and found the side entrance which led out. to the garden and by which the tradesmen arid servants entered and went out. The door was a double one, a glasrt panelled inner door having « mosquito door beyond it. The key of the panelled door was in the lock. Oneeye turned the key and unlatched the mosquito door. He locked them both behind him and stepped out to the garden. As he did so a dog’s deep roar greeted his appearance. A large Alsatian was dragging at its chain beside its kennel across the lawn. One-eye stepped deliberately toward** the hound which was baying* and rearing in an attempt to break loose. Its powerful jaws gaped and its tongue was thrust out as it snarled and roared viciously at him. He walked right tip 1o it and stood with his single optic fixed on it. He did not speak a word; just looked. The dog suddenly ceased to roar and stood facing him, tail erect, ears bristling. One-eye did not move.

One half minute passed thus, the mulatto looking at the dog and the dog looking at the mulatto. At the end of that time the animal's tail wagged hesiatinglv, its ears twitched backward and forward, its muzzle was thrust forward. One-eve stepped forward and laid his hand on the dog’s massive head. “Lie down,” he said. “Yo’ an’ rue’b have a word later, maybe.” v The dog lay down and the mulatto turned and walked slowly round the house, his gaze fixed on the ground. Foster stood watching him as he went over every yard of the garden at the hack of the house, liis eye glued to the ground, his high shoulders hunched, his jaws munching at his chewing gum. At the end of his examination he scrutinised the sides of the house and the paths and lawns there before going to the front. Foster followed. still watching. The study window and that of Maud Barron’s bedroom looked out to the front, and One-eye gazed at both critically for some time, then cast hie eye towards the forest beyond the private garden. Now aml then his lips moved as if lie were epeaking to himself, blit his impassive expression never changed. The ground was hard and dusty, the paths were of dark cinder** where they footmark anywhere. The mulatto examined the flower belli*, walked down to the gateway and gazed about the road; then lie straightened his shoulders, nodded to Foster and jerked his thumb towards the town. “Found any clue?” a*ked Foster. “Ah, think,” replied One-eye, “dat we’ll have de inquest jest before noon Guess we’ll «*ee yo’ den.” And that was the only word that Dr. Foster got out of him all the way down to the town. They parted in the main street of Kingston, but Foster could not go hit? way without breaking the silence that had become almost unbearable t.o him. “One-eye,” he said frankly, “I feel this affair keenly, perhaps more than you can understand. Will you le,t me say again that if I can be of any help to you in any way whatever I am at your service.” The mulatto chewed slowly for a moment liefore he answered. “Missy Barron is ver’ nice gal, doc. She gwine get married one clay, hev?” “One-eye, I don’t know anything about that, but she and her father were uiy friends.” “Sure. Cap’ll Swathiin* one of yo frien’e* too?” “Y es. I know him quite well. Y\ hat about him ?” The mulatto hitched his shoulders. “Guess tap’n Swathiin’ can’t get heali in time to take a hand, doe. Wal, yo an’ Ah gotta mix, Ah suppose. Sav. we’d bettah git back. doc. Ah locked 'cm all in, y’know. Lisseii, doc. Lissen t’me. All’ll tell vo’ one t’ing; what dat ole doc says at de inquest doan niattah a row ob beans. It's what Ah says.’ “One-eye, you don’t believe it was suieidc V* The mulatto spat far into the street. “Mistah Barron didn’t shoot liimsel’, doc. Mistali Barron was murdered,” he said; and swung round and walked off before Foster could a=k another question. (To be continued daily.)