EBONY TORSO

Wairarapa Times-Age, 7 September 1939, Page 12

EBONY TORSO

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

COPYRIGHT.

(By

JOHN C. WOODIWISS.)

CHAPTER IX. (Continued). “By George, that thins out the field pretty extensively," commented the Commissioner as he ended: "so Mrs Abershaw is really Galesbourne's wile, is she. The man wasn’t the Vicar at all —he was merely an imposter? That’s your idea, eh?” “Yes, sir, I think there’s no doubt on that point,” replied Hopton. "And, as I was saying, there’s no question that the pair of them played on Scutt’s superstitious terror by means of the carving. Of course the poor devil was so drink-sodden he was prepared to believe anything; he was half-mad, and on the verge of D.T.’s ” “You’ll excuse me, Inspector,” interjected Sir Halliard with a chuckle, "but I rather think you’re doing Scutt an injustice. In my opinion, he was not nearly so mad with terror as you think.” “But all this stuff he talked about the figure, or incubus, or whatever you like to call it, killing him?” "He was just leading Galesbourne up ' the garden path, my dear fellow,” smiled Sir Hallard. "He never thought the thing'd kill him. Never for a moment!”

"Then what the dickens did he hope to gain by oluffing everyone?” cried the detective.

“About £B,OOO, Inspector,” replied the Commissioner. “You remember the room in which he was killed, don’t you?”

“Perfectly, sir.” “Well, it didn't offer many hiding places for valuable loot, did it?” “No, certainly not.” “That’s exactly what the deceased man must have felt.” /‘But one moment, sir,” interrupted the Detective eagerly. “What’s this “This loot? I’m coming to that, but in my own good time,” said the Chief, with an irritating chuckle. “Sorry to keep yob on tenderhooks and all that. Inspector, but 1 must tell you things in their proper order.” “Very good, sir,” returned Hopton resignedly. “My friends at the museum examined the Torso yesterday morning, and was struck by a definite peculiarity. He hadn’t much time then, but he investigated it again in the afternoon and went over it with the very powerful magnifying instrument they use, when he saw at once that the navel was surrounded by traces of some dull stuff suggesting wax.” “It’s funny I never noticed that, sir. I examined the thing pretty closely,” Hopton said.

“That’s where the instrument came in, my dear fellow,” continued the Commissioner. “I can assure you it was ithere, whether you noticed it or not. My friend now really got to work and found the indentation in Master Torso’s tummy showed signs of having been drilled, and of being afterwards carefully refilled with black wax. So he took a fine bradawl and a pair of tweezers, removed the stopping and found this . . .” Sir Hallard fumbled with his finger and thumb in his waistcoat pocket and drew out a small, round pill-box and, as he finished speaking, removed the lid and emptied a magnificent diamond on to the blotting paper. “That’s what he found, Inspector,” he cried triumphantly, as his subordinate leaned eagerly forward. “Nice stone, eh?” “By gad, that’s a knock out, sir,” commented the detective.

“Yes, prety curious, isn’t it? Well, I think that little chap is the cause of all the trouble. There’s enough value in that stone to cause a dozen murders!”

“Rather,” nodded Hopton. picking up the diamond and examining it. “A magnificent stone. But I don’t think it could have been the motive for Scuffs murder, because, had that been the case, why did the murderer leave the figure behind? Why didn’t he get away with it at all costs before calling the police?” “Yes, that certainly is a snag,” agreed Sir Hallard dubiously. “But 1 feel pretty certain the stone will have an important bearing on the crime, when the entire facts are known. You’ve already proved that this s_ocalled Rev Galesbourne isn’t the sort of gentleman who’d stick at murder, and that Mrs Clara Abershaw, from whom the Torso first came, is really his wife. This gorilla story is most interesting, as it gives us an almost certain clue to who actually did the killing. The pieces in this jig-saw puzzle are gradually being fitted into place, Hopton.” “I’m hoping for an arrest any time now. sir. and once we can land the woman, or old Smith, Galesbourne’s servant, the complete solution will soon be on your table." “I sincerely hope so," smiled the Commissioner, replacing the jewel in its box. “In the meantime. I’m putting out information concerning this stone through the usual channels, and hope to get hold of the name of its lawful owner in a few day’s time. We shall probably gel some interesting information from him about the person who originally stole it, and the manner in which the theft was carried out.”

“More than likely,” replied Hopton rising. “Now, sir. I’ll be getting down to Lambeth, if you’ll excuse me.” “Righto, Inspector, that’s all I want to say at tnc moment,” replied Sir Hallard, returning to the papers in front of him. “Let me know how things progress.” “Very good, sir,” agreed the Detective, as he closed the door. He was going down to his car when Morrell came running aftoi - him. “Excuse me, sir,” he cried, “but Kennington Station want you urgently on the ’phone.”

“All right, Sergeant; I’ll come at once,” he replied. “It’s lucky I hadn’t left the building.” He ran up the stairs, entered his room and took up the receiver. “Inspector Hopion speaking," he began smartly. "Oh, good morning, sir,” came the voice from the other end of the line. "This is Sergeant Jones of the Kennington Station speaking. We’ve got a Mrs Woolston here, offering to give information concerning the Galesbourne couple, and the old man you want, for the attempted murder at Rotherhithe, last, week.” “Who is she?” enquired the detective, scarcely able to conceal his excitement. “She’s a lodging-house keeper, sir, and lives at 197 Cheddar Buildings, Kennington,” replied his informant. "The parties you want to know about took lodging with her last Tuesday under the name of Foote. She says their behaviour made hei' suspicious, as they never left the house during the day-time, and she finally recognised them from their descriptions which we have posted up outside the Station.” “Excellent, Sergeant,” commented the detective, noting the name and address. “Send (her along at once, please.”

“Very good, sir,” answered the other and rang off. Mrs Woolston was a typical example of the poorer London lodging-house keeper. She was tall, angular and excessively thin with a mop of grey hair screwed into a bun at the back of her head. She wore a long raincoat over a black skirt, and a pair of shoes which seemed to pinch her badly, while a queer creation of feathers and faded chenille covered her head. The unusual surroundings obviously disconcerted her and she fidgeted nervously with her antiquated' umbrella and black leather bag. “Good morning, Mrs Woolston,” began Hopton pleasantly. “Sorry to bring you along here, but we’re anxious to waste no time.”

“Oh, that’s all right, sir,’’"replied the landlady obligingly. “Only I’ll ask you not to keep me too long, because there’s dinner to be cooked, y’know.” “I understand,” nodded the detective. v “Now, please tell me about this Mr and Mrs Foote.”

“Oh, they’re ever so queer, Inspector,” she replied promptly. “’Specially the old gentleman.” “In that way queer?” “Never go out, they don’t, ’ceptin’ at night. Don’t seem natur'l to me.” “They’ve got good reason for keeping indoors, if they’re the people we hope,” the detective assured her. “Can you describe them to me?”

Whatever defects Mrs Woolston may have had in looks were amply compensated for by her wealth of expressive vocabulary and, by the time she’d been talking for five minutes. Hopton was completely satisfied as to the identity of her lodgers, and felt it time to check her flood of eloquence. “Thank you, Mrs Woolston, that’ll do,” he interrupted as she paused for breath, “there’s no doubt they’re the people we want. Now the only thing to do is to decide on some plan for arresting them without causing too much fuss.” “Fuss, sir?”

The landlady raised her heavy eye-> brows in astonished inquiry. “Well,” said 'the Detective, “they’re desperate characters, you know. Especially the younger man.” “Yes, ’e looks a pretty tough customer, now you come to mention it, inspector,” she agreed. “I don’t want me front room smashed up; I've not even paid for all the furniture yet.” Hopton thoughtfully reviewed the situation. “Well, I think the only way to avoid trouble is to take ’em by surprise,” he announced. “You go home and get their midday meal. And while they’re eating, you can let in half a dozen of us, and we’ll arrest ’em before they can put up much resistance.” “That’s a good idea, sir,” agreed the woman enthusiastially. ‘,‘You can wait in the lane at the back of my place be’ind the wall, and I’ll wave me ’andkerchief to show you w’en I'm ready. They'll be eatin’ about one.” “Righto, Mrs Woolston,” replied Hopton as he rose and rang the bell. “WeTl be there exactly at one. Only be very careful not to arouse their suspicions in any way as they’re almost certain to be armed, and the consequences might be serious.” “I only wish I’d never let ’em corne,” grumbled the landlady peevishly. “I wouldn’t be forced to take such riffraff in at all if me ’usband ’adn’t lost ’is job.” “I’m very sorry for you, Mrs Woolston,” the Detective assured her as Morrell entered. “But it won't do to have dangerous characters like that at large, you know. If you do your part properly' there’s nothing to fear." "Well, I'll do me best, sir,” replied the woman gloomily, as she followed Morrell to the door. "Good mornin’ sir.” “Good morning,” repeated Hopton and, as soon as she had gone, he took up the receiver and made his arrangements for the impending raid. CHAPTER X. About half-past twelve the same morning, a number of plain-clothes police officers began to concentrate • unobtrusively in the lane behind Mrs Woolston's house 197 Cheddar Buildings, Kennington.

It was a harrow alley, with a high wall on either side intersected with a number of wooden back doors belonging to the houses. A good deal of litter had been blown along its surface by a bitter east wind that made the attackers shiver.

Hcpton, who was in charge of the raid, had carefully arranged his men so as to prevent all possibility of the criminals slipping through the cordon, and now stood, watch in hand, waiting

for the landlady's signal, to make his swoop. The minute hand of the Detective’s watch crept slowly up the dial and reached the quarter to one, but still no signal came. T hope nothing’s gone wrong!” he remarked to his subordinate. “I shan’t wait about after the hour’s struck.” “I shouldn’t do anything yet, sir,” advised the Sergeant. “Thang goodness all those kids are clearing off to dinner. We don’t want a crowd about if there’s any trouble.” (To be continued.)