“A COIL OF ROPE”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 74, Issue 279, 25 November 1931, Page 10

“A COIL OF ROPE”

SERIAL STORY

(By

FRANK GILBERT).

un APTER XVl.—(Continued.) The two men shook hands, end Eric, carrying a suitcase bearing the initials “E.C.,” stepped into a taxi and arrived at the -Gave du Nord just m time to catch the four o'clock limited io London express. Just before nine o'clock the stepped once more on English soil, and as the station clock pointed to eleven he pressed through the waiting crowds at Victoria Station. Almost the first man he saw there was Inspector Harker I CHAPTER XVIi. Emile Cottel'a first impulse on catching sight of Inspector Harker standing by the barrier of No. 8 platform at Victoria, keenly surveying the crowds arriving by the Continental express vias one of flight, due to fear. The steely eyes of the Inspector met bls, and Instantly Eric decided to make a supreme test. He approached Harker, and in his best French asked politely: “Pardon, Monsieur, but could you direct me to a good hotel, as I am a stranger in London?" Harker, with one eye still on the crowd, looked searciilngly at the man before him, so obviously French and in need of guidance. Harker was in uniform, as it happened, and so it was not at all surprising that he should be asked by a foreigner for assistance.

“Yes,” he replied, kindly. “I think I can help you," and he named an hotel near the station which he knew by repute to be suitable, and where French was spoken. Eric listened eagerly. He had made no plans, and to him one hotel was as good as another, while, of course, he could not help seeing the humorous side of the situation. But Harker, too, was alert, and his eye caught the initials “E.C.” painted on the suitcase which the Frenchman carried. The initials struck a responsive chord in his brain—"E.C." “Brio Grofts,”—the man he had sworn to arrest again! Yet by not even a flicker of an ayelid did Harker betray that the initials interested him, and he nodded an acknowledgment of the other's thanks for the preferred assistance. Immediately, however, the Frenchman's back was turned, and before he was lost in the crowd, Harker spoke a few swift words of command to a man standing near him. “That Frenchman—follow him, report by telephone.” Then Harker went on with his survey.

To him Victoria Station was always a scene of Intense interest. Ths cosmopolitan throngs there never failed to amuse him, and more then one notable arrest had been made which had been due to Harker's eagle eye having observed some peculiar trait in the man’s walk, or in the way a woman spoke to a porter. Insignificant trifles in their way, but to a trained eye clues of the utmost importance. There was nothing else to-night, but as Harker presently moved away Co go and enjoy his supper, he felt that his evening had not been wasted. Something told him of there be- | lug possibilities about that enquiring Frenchman, although he imagined that few wrong-doers would willingly approach a policeman. Rattier would they flee from him—that, at any rate, was the most natural thing to do Ife finished his supper, and then walked to Scotland Yard. He bad only been back tn his room about five minutes when the telephone bell rang. It was Harker's assistant. "I have seen that Frenchie’e passport," he said, "and it seems in order. His name is Emile Cottel, and ho has taken a room on the first floor." “Good. I should like to see an inventory of the contents ot hie suitcase,” answered Harker, “but it must be obtained in such a way as to arouse not even the slightest shadow of suspicion." “Very good, sir,” and Harker hung up the receiver end went home to bed.” Early the next morning Emile made his way to the City and presented his letter of introduction at Button’s office. He was asked to wait a while, and presentely, after a short delay during which he imagined that his credentials were being suspiciously examined, he was admitted into toe presence ot Ambrose Button. “ Bonjour Monsieur," began Emile respectfully, in French, of course. " Ah—good morning,” replied Button in English. “You want to see me?" Emile's impulse was to reply in fluent English, but realising his role he fortunately was able to check himself. and appeared puzzled. " Ah,” responded Button. “ I thought you knew English." “ A very little,” answered Emile. “Eh blen,” went on Button, in French now. "As it is easier we will use that language. Now tell me why yen have come here.” Thus commanded, Bmile told his story in easy, flowing French. He played his part so well that Button was deceived, and held out bls hand and said: “ I shall be honoured to find you a post on my personal staff. I have a number of important matters In hand relating to my interests in France, and shall be glad of your assistance, as my present staff are very fully occupied, and I cannot work them any harder. I suppose you don’t mind hard work?" “ Ah, non I" replied Emils, and listened Intently while Button explained some of the duties he was to perform. About tha same time Inspector ! Harker sat In his room at Scotland I lard listening to the report made by his assistant in regard to the search made at the hotel near Victoria. “So there was nothing definitely suspicious In any of the Frenchman's belonging then?" “ Nothing, sir." “ And yet—” mused Harker. ' Pardon, Str?” ventured his assistant. ' Merely surmise—lntuition—call t what you will, but I'm not satisfied «ven now about his bona tides, ’’ said Harker. "In what way, Sir?" “ I can't, explain—but I feel that he is not really the man he claims to be; still, we can't stop him at present but 1 shou.d like a keen eys kept on

If this message from Paris were true, and Harker had no reason to doubt its accuracy, especially as he believed it to be from the great Alphonse Dodat, who had built up such a splendid reputation since the warthen the Gradcross Street case papers could now be filed. There had always been a hope that the mystery ot Hampden’s death woulji, one day, be solved, but now that prospect seemed to fade away and It would go down In the annals of Scotland Yard as a failure——presently the card ot Leslie Webb, amateur detective, was brought to him, he oordlallly welcomed the Intervention. “ Well, young fellow,” he said. “ It's a nice day. Have you any news ?" "Have you?" enquired Webb, cautiously. “ A little tit-bit," answered Harker, slowly. " Your frtend Crofts, has been found in Paris." "Really?" asked Webb, appearing incredulous. “ Yes—he has been found in Paris dead." “ You mean It?" asked Webb For reply Harter showed him the telegram. “Read that," he said. Webb obeyed. A variety of emotions surged In his heart, but he maintained his composure. “ That certainly looks pretty clean ” he said, “but still ” “Still what?” enquired Harker “Well, Is It quite definite that the body Uie Paris Police have discovered is actually that of Crofts?" “They say sol" declared Harker “and Dodat's word can usually h« trusted." ‘ Still—even he—or his subordinates, might make a mistake sometimes, ’ said Webb sententlously. True," admitted Harker. “I certainly think proof Ought to be forthcoming before this story is accepted,” went on Webb. “ Besides—that last phrase “ Cause ol ■ “ nknown ” leaves the mattei doesn’t it? Wi Ought, at to know whether 11 was a case of suicide, or foul play, l or accident, or due to one of a dozen causes." Harker listened intently. Be liked Webb because Webb viewed tilings from quite an unofficial standpoint—• and although Harker might presently reach the same conclusions as Webb, he always admired the mental agility of the other. Why don’t you go over and view the body?" asted Webb. Harker thought for a minute, then snook his head. Very difficult, I’m afraid,” he said. “I’m In charge of that Mayfair Place case, and one or two other rather Important cases that I’d rather important cases that I’d rather not leave London, much as Td like the trip to Paris. Besides, I might find It different to make the Identification." He was silent a moment, and then said earnestly: “Why, shouldn’t you go, Webb? You know Mm well, and you have been following the case from Its beginning for Button, haven’t you? Well, Button would pay your expenses there, I’m sure, and I’d be pleased to fix you up with a letter to Dodat asking him to render you all necessary assistance."

That the idea appealed to Webb was evident, but his inherent caution manifested Itself before replying: “It would certainly clear the air if we could make sure, but I should have no official status It I went to Paris." “Oh," replied Harker. “I know your ambition Is to get a job here on the Yard staff, but I've told you scores of times that you've no hope there: but if you do decide to go to Paris I’ll see you get all the help you are likely to want to make your journey comfortable." “Very well, then," said Webb. “In that case I'll go, I’ll catch the two o’clock from Victoria to-day If you can make sure 1 get a seat. It's a Limited train, I believe." They chatted for a few minutes over details, and presently Webb walked out of Scotland Yard, armed with many useful documents. He entered a taxi and drove to his office, and immediately rang up Button's private telephone. As chance would have it, Eric, or Emile Cottel, happened to be sitting by Button's desk when the bell rang. “Answer It, please,” said Button absently, deep In thought over a certain project, and forgetful for the moment of the Frenchman's supposed Ignorance of English. Hullo I said Eric, and he nearly dropped the Instrument as he heard the words “Webb here." He contrived to grunt, and the voice continued—“l have just heard from Scotland i ard that Grofts has been found dea l Id Paris.” <To bo continued.).

his movements and a report made to me immediately, should anything unusual occur.” “ Very well. Sir—leave it to me." Harker, alone again, sat back in his chair. Night and day the memory that he had failed in the Gradcross Street murder case was always with him, and the determination to make no mistake the next timu grew more grim. Not the slightest chance would he take with fate. Plodding, careful, painstaking, overlooking no possible opportunity, Harker lived now for the the day when Ite could arrest the murderer of John Hampden, and that man he believed to be none other than Erie Grofts. No wonder that he felt his pulse tingling at even the barest hope. Just then a telegram was. brought in to him. As he read it, his eyes lit up with a strange light—surprise mingled with indignation as if he had been oteated. The message was in French, but it had been translated and was from the Paris Prefect de Police: “ Reference your inquiry for Eric Crofts, body now in Morgue believed to be this man. Cause of death unknown.” Harker stared wonderingly at the piece of paper. It upset a good many of his pet theories, and, moreover, quite exploded the idea which had been forming in his mind since last night that the young Frenchman had some connection with the case.