EBONY TORSO

Wairarapa Times-Age, 8 September 1939, Page 10

EBONY TORSO

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

(By

JOHN C. WOODIWISS.)

CHAPTER X. (Continued). “No.” agreed Hopton. "You’d better get hold of Sergeant Grattan and tell him to put a couple of uniformed men at the end of this lane to keep back the crowd, as soon as we move off.” “Very good, sir,” nodded the other, crossing the road to carry the message to several other loungers who were standing outside a public house and apparently engaged in a heart to heart talk about the possible winner of the two-thirty. The Detective had turned to watch him when the back door of 197 was cautiously opened, and the face of Mrs Woolston’s appeared. To Hopton’s annoyance, the woman no sooner saw him than she darted along the lane and grabbed him hysterically by the arm. “Oh, do please come at once, Inspector,” she cried, almost in tears. “I’m sure somethin’s wrong—somethin’ terrible I’m afraid.”

“What d’you mean?” he questioned angrily. “Come on, pull yourself together, woman! You’ll give the whole game away if you go on like this in the street. What’s the matter?” His firm tone checked the landlady's outburst, and she went on more calmly:

“The two men went out this mornin’ an’ they ’aven’t come back yet, and left Mrs Foote alone in the sittin’ room. Everythin’ was very quiet, an’ after a while, I thought I’d better make an excuse and see wot she was up to, so I went along pretendin' to look if the fire wanted mendin’.” “Well, what then?” Hopton broke in impatiently. “I found the door locked, and couldn’t make no one ’ear, although I banged on it ever so loud,” she replied. “I wasn’t really surprised at that, ’cos they often used to turn the key, but w'en I couldn’t get no answer, I began to get the wind up, especially as there weren't no sound of anyone movin’.” “But why the dickens didn’t you call a policeman at once?” questioned the Inspector sharply. “If you’d suspicions ...” “You remember you told me not te z do anythin’ until you turned up as you didn’t want ’em frightened? So 1 thought it’d be better to wait till you got ’ere, sir,” returned Mrs Woolston apologetically. “You was so partick’lar on that point . . .” “How long has she been locked in?” cried the detective, beckoning to Morrel and the other men. “Nearly an ’our, sir, I daresay.” “And you haven’t heard any noise of her moving about?” “Not a sound, Inspector,” agreed the landlady.- “I think you ought to do somethin’ at once.” “All right,” nodded Hopton, turning to his men. “Come on lads, we’d better get busy! Show us the way Mrs Woolston.” “Follow me, then,” cried the woman, leading the officers through the back door and across the small yard. Cautiously they followed their guide up a steep flight of stairs until they at last came into a wide hall that smelt unpleasantly of cooking. “That’s the door,” whispered Mrs Woolston hoarsely, as she pointed to the entrance of the front sitting-room. “Thanks,” nodded the Inspector, “you go downstairs again,” and as the woman retreated precipitately,'he took a pace forward and tapped sharply on the panel. No reply answered the summons and Hopton, having repeated his knock, turned the handle and put his shoulder against the door. It proved to be surprisingly strong, but Sergeant Morrell joined in the attack and, taking a short run at the obstacle, burst it open. Silently they paused on the threshold to take in the gruesome scene. In front of the fire, which was burnt almost out, lay the body of Mrs Galesbourne in a pool of blood. Her face was buried in the woollen mat, while the handle of a long knife jutted out from between her shoulder blades as if it had been driven in with ghastly force from behind. Hopton leapt across the room and turned the woman on to her side, but found that she was already beyond all human aid. He replaced her gently in the position in which he had found her and carefully examined the dagger. It was of Oriental manufacture, and so firmly embedded that he had some trouble in withdrawing it. It proved to be a singular weapon, weighted in such- a way that it could be thrown

with deadly accuracy. There could be little doubt that the unsuspecting victim had been struck down by an assassin who had hurled the dagger from the door. In front of her lay a small pile of letters, stamped and ready for posting. Hopton pounced on these and opened the first. It contained only a short message written in a neat, careful hand.

"Dear Frank, “This is to wish you good-bye in case I don’t get another chance to write. We are in a desperate situa-

tien and are gradually being ringed in by enemies. T. has been a bit 100 clever this time, and unless we can get abroad again very soon, I’m afraid it’s all up with us. You know everything, and can understand what I feel. God bless you. whatever happens! Always your loving, GERTIE.” This letter was directed to Frank Newton, Esq., at an address in Tenby, Pembrokeshire. The next was even more dramatic, and ran as follows: — “For God’s sake take care! Leave London if possible. We can’t shake the devil off. Tom spotted him yesterday, and we are making frantic efforts to do a flit. I’m nearly mad with worry. God help us all!” Yours, Gertie.” This was addressed to Miss Ferrier, Flat 4, 14 Close Street, W.7.

It took little reasoning to understand from these letters that the tragedy had not come unexpectedly and that the supposed parson and his wife were being remorselessly hunted down by some enemy from whom they were making desperate attempts to escape . . . an'enemy who had somehow managed to get into the house in the absenc of the two men and kill the woman.

The weapon with which the murder had been done was clearly a weighted knife of the type used by professional knife-throwers. Hopton recognised it as being like the weapon which had been used in Ine famous Circus murder. for he had been engaged on that crime as a junior officer under Detec-tive-Inspector Nadin and had taken a 'prominent part in bringing the murderer, Karl Siemann, a young German juggler, to justice. This fact set him thinking and he immediately remembered that the sailor, Prosser, had told him Galesbourne and his wife were connected with the music hall business in Australia a point which the Australian police had been able to verify. The facts seemed to connect in a remarkable way, for the dead woman’s letters showed she and her companions were well aware that some enemy wiis trailing them. Who could this enemy be-\ Hopton argued it was someone who had been associated with them in the show business —someone who had given terrible proof of his dexterity at knife throwing and, since this person was alluded to in the masculine gender, that he must be a man. As he pondered over the problem, the solution suddenly came to him. The animal which the pair had brought over in their cabin on the “Pacific” from Melbourne with such care and secrecy was not a gorilla at all, but a man. Detail after detail fitted into logical order as he reconstructed the chain of tragic events. The care with which the supposed animal was guarded during the voyage, its strange disappearance on arrival at Tilbury, the coincidence of its never being recaptured, and that its body was never discovered from the Thames, the discreet withdrawal of the action for damages against the shipping company and Galesbourne’s obvious desire to avoid anything in the nature of a public inquiry into the loss of his pet. The case was gradually taking shape. Galesbourne had deliberately smuggled a man into England at a time just prior to the Vicar of St Luke’s nervous breakdown. It was a suggestive fact that the music hall artist from Melbourne and the saintly parson of London bore a remarkable resemblance to one another; so suggestive that the Detective felt certain what he had suspected from the first was a true answer to the riddle. The Australian had got rid of his priestly double and taken his place! Again all the facts bore out his hypothetis. The nervous breakdown, followed by loss of memory was the obvious solution to the question of a novice carrying out the duties of a parish priest; it would account for his absence from services at St Luke’s and his inability to recognise the friends and church workers connected with the saintly man he had decided to impersonate. It was the very idea which would occur to a cunning and desperate criminal. And if further proofs were needed, they were to be found in the behaviour of old Smith, and the real Vicar’s servant, who would be almost certain to detect the imposition and who consequently had been cowed into silence, and the Vicar's pet terrier, Spot, who had recognised the impostor and turned on him at the cost of his life. The whole thing, once it was arranged into some sort of sequence, became so plain that Hopton decided to make a few more inquiries from Doctor Gravely, as the person most likely to be in the possession of the missing links. Leaving the body in charge of Morrell he hurried over to the public phone box and put through a call. The doctor himself, answered. “Hullo, inspector,” he said, as he recognised the detective’s voice. “Good afternoon, doctor,” replied Hopton. “I particularly want to ask if you ever heard Mr Galesbourne mention a brother, or any male relation in Australia?” There was a pause as the medical

man thought over his reply. “No, I can’t recall him ever mentioning a relative,” he replied at last. “But I remember he used to receive letters from Australian now and again that upset him a good deal.” Hopton thrilled with 'excitement at the answer, but managed to continue his inquiries in a calm tone. "Did he ever comment on them to

you in any way?” he asked eagerly. “Never,” replied the Doctor decidedly. “But I could see that their arrival always cauased him a good deal

of anxiety and depression.’ “And you’re sure they came from Australia?” “Oh, quite, inspector, because he gave me the stamps on several occasions,” answered the Doctor. “I’m a philatelist, you know. He used to tear the stamps from the letters and give

them to me.” “Was that during the time you were treating him for the nervous break-

down?” “No, before that—during the time he

was suffering from shingles, as far as I remember. He gave me three stamps and on of them bore a Melbourne postmark.” “Quite so,” returned Hopton, exulting at the answer. “Now just one more question, Doctor: Did you know Father Galesbourne’s writing well, prior to his last illness?” "And. did his writing alter much sif-

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“I suppose he was unable to do his correspondence?” “Quite so,” agreed Gravely. “His mind was in a funny state, you know, and he employed a secretary who came in for an hour each day and did all his clerical work for him.” “So. you never saw his writing after he was taken ill the last time?”

“Oh. on thinking it over, I did see his signature on a cheque he sent me in settlement for a small account,” answered Dr Gravely, aftdr a pause. “The writing, I remember, showed signs of his illness, as one would have suspected. It hadn’t the same firm, clear quality if I remember right—but that so often happens in cases of this sort, you know.”

■ Hopton could scarcely suppress a chuckle at the lofty tone of assurance the doctoi’ had assumed, and saw how easily such a man could be deceived.

“Well, thank you so much, sir,” he answered. “I think that’s all.”

“You haven’t recovered the poor fellow’s body yet, Inspector?” asked Gravely anxiously. “No, sir, not yet,” the detective assured him.

“That’s an odd thing,” the doctor commented. “But I’m afraid it won’t be long before you do, in spite of your assurance that he’s not dead.” (To be continued.)