THE GREEN GHOST

Star (Christchurch), Volume LXVI, Issue 20273, 6 April 1934, Page 12

THE GREEN GHOST

By

STUART MARTIN

(Author of “iThe Fifteen Cells,'* “Babe Jardine,** “The Surf Queen,” etc.)

CHAPTER XVII. The doctor did not disturb him, for ho knew that if One-Eye had anything to teJU him lie would do so at the proper timej_ and he went downstairs again to He had not been seated long when Mrs. Gibbs came in. The expression bn her face told him that she was glad to find him alone. “Maud has told me,” she said quietly. “Told you what?” “What you have been telling her. About Hughes.” She had a difficulty in saying the name. “I am not surprised, doctor, that you suspect him of some tricks. I have always thought he was a strange card. I don’t like people who are so secretive, and have doings with sliabby-looking strangers.” “What do, you mean, Mrs. Gibbs ?” “It was when you were away, Dr. Foster, on that expedition to St. Albans, that I saw him meeting a low kind of person down by the edge of the woods.” “What’s this? Why didn’t you tell me of this if you saw things?” “My dear doctor, there has been so much on my mind for the last few days that I couldn't think of everything. My sitting room window overlooks the corner of the woods, you know, and I was in my room on two occasions when I saw them meet. I heard someone whistle the second time, or I wouldn’t have noticed anything. I saw a shabby man down by the yew tree. Hughes came out of the house and went down, and they stood talking for a bit before walking away from the house.” “What was this man like?” “From what I saw of him he was an elderly man with a greyish beard; just a little better than a labouring man, I should say, with a cap on his head. I expect it was some of his sporting acquaintances. He goes about the races a lot and puts a lot oi money on horses. But if you are waiting for him to return to-day, doctor, li6 won’t be back.” “How do you know?” “He has just telephoned through from London to say that he will be going to Brighton for a few days. He wanted to know if you were here and if anybody else had come.” “What did you say, Mrs. Gibbs?” cried Foster. “I told him that you were r.ot here and that we—Maud and I—were alone. It was a terrible lie, sir, but I thought maybe —” “Mrs. Gibbs, you are a very intelligent woman, and you are to be congratulated Wi telling that little fib!” cried Foster. As soon as she had gone he went 'upstairs and told One-Eye what he had. heard. The mulatto did not budge from iiis rigid position for some moments. Then he said: “Doc, I stick heah fo’ de day, but yo* gotta do some shoppin’ fo’ me. Ah wanna dawg, 6uh, a big fierce dawg dat can take a scent. Yo’ pro‘bly get one at a fa’m about heah. An’ Ah want ■’bout a lmnderd yards of thick dark cord —blind cord would do. An’ Ah wan’ ’bout two dozen good heavy sticks. An’ dat’s all Ah wan’ exccp’ quietness, doc. ’Cept dis, doe. Ah wan’ yo* tonight. Yo’ an’ me's gwine t'be in Missy Barron’s room dis niglit. Get her t’ go t’ some oder part oh de house.” “All Shot Up” Not a sound was to lie heard in' Shirley. Everyone had gone to bed, Maud Barron had changed to another room, and Dr. Foster and One-eve sat in her bedroom before the open window. None of the servants had been out during the day, and Foster, who had expected Elsie Monteith to leave the house, had been informed, when he inquired, that she was in bed and was not very, well. The men servants had been told to stand by, as they might be wanted during the night, but they had rot been told what duty was required of them. It was a very dark night, the wind was fairly high, and the threshing branches of the trees across the lawn had an eerie effect. A few stars shone out of the black dome of the heavens. One-eye had received the articles which Foster had telephoned for from a loeal dealer and had gone out with them after dark, but what he had done or where he had been he had not divulged, and Foster had not asked. He was content to leave the organisation of his schemes to the mulatto, who had turned peculiarly silent and uncommunicative. There was no light in the room in which One-eye arid Foster sat, but Foster noticed that the detective had his revolver on his knee and his cudgel was sticking up from his jacket podket. Foster had armed himself with a small automatic which he had borrowed from the late James Barron’s study. “Sure dat dbg can track, doc ?” asked One-eye quietly. “I got him from a farmer who uses him to hunt poachers,” replied the doctor. “He is a big brute, half Airedale and half hound.” “Got yo’ boots on?” “Yes.” “If yo’ hah canvas slices, doe, yohettah put ’em on instead. Dor might be a race.” Foster slipped out of tlie room and rarne back soon afterwards with a pair of track shoes on his feet. A clock in the distance struck twelve. “Do you really think the ghost will conre to-night?” whispered Foster. “Suttinlv.” They lapsed into silence and the time passed slowly. Foster was beginning to feel the effect of Iris lack of sleep and he dozed in his chair in spite of the excitement of the expectation. He was aroused by the hand of One-eye on his knee. “Hark, doc!” The growl of the dog came up to them from the back of the house—a low. deep growl, rumbling and menacing. “Do you see anything, One-eye?” “Mils’ be round de corner, doc. Steady up!” One-eye poked bis bead out of tlie window. Next moment lie drew back and fell on one knee, his gun raised. Foster followed hi* example, his nerves strung up to their highest pitch. The thing was before them before they realised. Both unconsciously gave a gasp, for suddenly, from out of tlie black night, there appeared in front of the window a frightful, ghoulish spectre hanging in mid-air, terrible to contemplate, nerveraeking in its terrorising, fantastic horror. The apparition they had glimpsed on that memorable night in Jamaica was gazing into tlie room! Though they were prepared for it, the appearance of that frightful countenance took both of them, in a sense, unawares. It was Foster who uttered the cry of horror that rang out. His lips could not remain closed under the strain.

“Shoot, <loc!” First One-pye’s gun, then that of Foster crashed out. Bang! Bang! The noise iiiled the apartment, bursting on their ears with the reverberations of thunder. Then, in the midst of the din, One-eve leaped up and thrust his arm forward, gun swinging down as lie fired again, and the spectre was blotted out. This time a cry rang out from the lawn, shrill and sharp; it was a cry of pain. “Doc! Come!” The blotting out of the ghostly face had been so swift as to make Foster wonder if he had really seen it. One moment it was within six yards of them; the next it had gone, wiped out swiftly a«s a camera shutter descends. One-eye was already at the door and Foster followed op his heels. They rushed down the stairs, hearing, as they sped, the occupants of the house arousing themselves; but no explanations could be given them. One-eve was like a black vengeance in pursuit of its victim. At the foot of the stairs the dog was tied by a slip knot to the pillar. Foster had the leash in his hand and felt the dog leap up all bristling with rage and excitement. One-eve already had the main door open. They swept out into the night. “Let de dawg go, doc! No leash, sulx! ” Away sped the animal across the lawn, roaring his heart out. The two men rushed in pursuit, One-eye first as if he saw in the dark. “Hold up, doc!” The sharp snarl of the dog ahead was followed by a fierce growl. Foster felt, rather than saw, the dog leap forward; and then One-eye’s voice rang out in warning. “Mind vo* feet, doc! Watch out fo’ de trip-wires!” As he spoke the mulatto switched on a flash-lamp and its beams spread across the lawn towards the wall. “Up wit’ de wires, doc! Dey ain’t Foster saw a cord stretched across the lawn about nine inches from the turf. He bent down and tugged at it with all his strength, One-eye helping and holding the electric torch. The cord came away in their hands. They raced forward and were half-way across the lawn when a shot rang out. Foster heard the bullet sing past his ear. Out went One-eye’s torch, but his arm went up and his flashed. “Down, doc! On yo’ face!” | They dropped together in time—only just. Another flash stabbed the darkness ahead and another bullet soared over their bodies. But almost simultaneously with the flash of the enemy gun was the roar of One-eye’s weapon, and Foster’s spoke a moment later. | “Separate a yard, doc! • Den lire again. Same target, suh!” They rolled apart, and fired again, aiming as near as possible at the place where they had seen the flash. I bis time there was no reply. A sudden silence fell on the night. But the silence did not last. It was the dog’s snail that came to them—a snarl and then a sound of worrying, terrible, savage worrying. “The dog! One-eye, the dog!” They ran forward. One-eye lighting np the ground with his torch. “Look, One-eye! Good Lord! Call him off! Down, there!” Foster rushed in and seized the leash of the dog, hauling at him for dear life. He grabbed the collar of the animal and tried to pacify him, but the dog leaped and struggled and could be held only with difficulty. On the ground lay a huddled figure. A pair of arm 9 were waving in the light of One-eye’s torch, striking out spasmodicaUy at the dog, while a voice hurled curses at all and sundry. One-eve stepped up and seized the arms while he poured the beams of his torch on the frantic figure. “Doc” “Who is it. One-eye? Hughes?” “Xaw. But lie’s a goner, doc. All shot up. Keep clear! Yo’ swine!” One-eye leaped back quickly as a stick shot out stabbing at him viciously. “Pisen stick, doc! Same’s we found in his room.” With an adroit swing of his club, Oneeve knocked the stick from the man's grasp and shot his light on him again. “Doc, look dere!” The mulatto pointed to the man’s feet. Strapped to the individual’s feet and reaching up above the knees were the tops of long tubes of black metal. Onc-eye bent down and unbuckled the straps. “Stilts, doc. Made ob hollow tubin’. An’ collapsible too, so’s dey could be de size ob a walkin’ 6tick. Bettah get him indoors, doc.” The wounded man stirred, his eyes Mazing with fury at the mulatto and Foster. “It was your cursed trap lines that brought me down,” he growled. “I give you credit for that. I’m hit—your damn guns got me—curse you!” One-eve’s hands ran over the form deftly. With a swift movement lie tore the long cloak from the man’s shoulders, rolling it. up in a bundle under his aim. (To be concluded.)