“THE MONEY SPIDER”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 79, Issue 68, 22 March 1935, Page 10

“THE MONEY SPIDER”

SERIAL STORY

(By

Marie Connor Leighton.)

CHAPTER XXll.—(Continued.)

• Out in the street she walked along very fast. She did not mean to give Raphael Tanza, or anybody else, a chance to interfere with her. She was looking about her for a taxicab. She would find one presently, and, once in It, she would be safe. It was in Hart Street that a slowly patrolling taxi drew up to the kerb at her signal. She was crossing the pavement to It when a man separated himself from the stream of passers by and thrust himself in front of her, looking full into her face. He was the late Jerome Spurier’s valet. She drew back for a moment, ahrlnking from the sight of him—his cunning face, his lithery manner,, I and the rude familiarity with which he was eyeing her. Then she drew herself up, and would have passed on ■ across the remaining yard or two of pavement to the taxi, as if she had not recognised him, but he took a half step forward, barring her way. “Not so fast, Miss Clementine Holtbyl You don’t get away from me quite so easily as that. You know Who I am and you know why 1 want a ! word with you in private. I mean to have it, too. l\te been waiting and watching outside here ever since you gave me the slip outside the police court. Somebody told me he'd seen you in this neighbourhood. And you needn't Uilnk I’m going to let you give me >he slip again, because I'm not." “What is it you want with me? You can see that tills Is not the place for any private talk." She glanced nervously about her as she spoke, for besides the taxi-driver, who was looking at them impatiently, people were beginning to detach themselves from the passing crowds and linger round them. “Well, take me to your house or flat and let’s talk there,” the man suggested. “I can't do that," Clementine said decisively. “I must go to the place I have come out to go to. I- cannot turn back. You will have to say what you want to say to me later on." “Oh, nol None of that! You’re not In a position to dictate to me, my lady. You’ve got to do what I want — and be thankful that I’m leaving you free to go about London dressed up and take taxis and keep on thinking yourself very fine and important, while » poor girl that’s as innocent as a baby is in prison waiting to be tried on the charge of murdering Spurier.” “Is that all you want to say?" asked Clementine. “Because I cannot stop here talking to you.” "No, of course, you can't. You don't like people to hear what I’m saying. And what I’ve got to say more Is this: If I hold my tongue as I’ve been doing, and if I let you go free about London instead of telling the police What I know " He had dropped his voice so that the hungry ears gathering about them should not catch that dangerous word “police”— “I expect some reward for doing it. What payment are you going to make to me? That's what I want to know.”

"In short, you are trying to blackmail me," said Clementine, with contempt in her voice. "Because you saw me pass with your master through the winter garden on that terrible night at Redstone Place, and I haven't told the world that I was there, you think you may insult me and torture me, and demand whatever you choose of me. But I am not the sort of girl to give way to blackmail. Even if I had been as guilty as you think I am I would not give way to it. And to show you how little I cars for what you may tell the police I ask you to come with me to Scotland Yard now. 1 am going there. I got this taxi in order to go there. Gome with me and you can tell them all you know about me in connection with Mr Spurier’s death. You can speak quite freely. Get into the cab.” But the valet made no movement to do as she asked him. He stared at her for a moment and then with an oath turned away and slipped into the crowd and disappeared.

Clementine realised then in a flash that he was afraid of arrest on a charge of attempting blackmail. She got into her cab after having told the driver to take her to the great police headquarters. She was thankful that a certain numbness had come to her. But for this numbness she felt, she could not have borne the weight of desperation and misery that was upon her. What had she done to get Into this tangle of mystery and crime ? If it was true, as Darcy Darkin said, that the shot she had fired at Jerome Spurier In self defence had not even touched him, then she had done nothing—absolutely nothing. At the end of another half-hour she was being conducted into the plainly furnished but very comfortable room at Scotland Yard, where sat the Assistant Commissioner, who was the head of the Criminal Investigation Department.” “I have come to give myself up," she told him. "I am the real Secret Girl who was at supper with Jerome Spurier in bis private suite of rooms at Redstone Place on the night of the murder. I was alone with him when he died.” CHAPTER XXIII. Hours of Crisis. Never For a moment suspecting what a desperate plan of action was in l.he mind of his girl client, Darcy Darkin went into a barber’s shop to be shaved. It was not his usual barber. He had been frightened away from there by the sight of a crowd of girls waiting to have their shortened hair trimmed up. In spite of his agreeable manner’ to Clementine, he was not very fond of the feminine sex, especially when he was particularly absorbed in bls work; and so it happened that Destiny got him round to a certain little establishment that he had never visited before, and took no special interest in. It was quite a simple little place, not at all likely to be frequented by dandies, and so the scraps of talk that reached his ears were mostly full of common sense. Some of these scraps of talk referred to the Spurier case. “There was a young chap here just now who was talking a lot about Spurier’s own revolver," said the barber to Darcy Darkin, never suspecting his identity. “He said it was all sheer nonsense' for them to say that that big -revolver that the man was shot

with was his own weapon that he "kept in his drawer In that same room that he was killed in. His own ‘revolver was quite a small one. The young fellow said he knew because he was once house-boy there, and though he wasn’t supposed to go Into those specially private rooms, he always used to slip into them when Mr Spurier was out and amuse himself practising film attitudes with the revolver. He says he used to be rather nervous, because it was always loaded, but he had gone so much off his head about being a film actor one day that he got over his nervousness and took the risk. Now he says he believes he’.°- the only person alive who could swear absolutely to that revolver, and he’d like to know where it’s disappeared to. He thinks he ought to tell the police that he doesn't believe the weapon they've got bold of is Mr Spurier’s -at all. and that somebody must have taken Mr Spurier’s." "Certainly he ought to tell them." Mr Darkin was? quietly emphatic. "How long is it since this boy was employed at Redstone Place?’’ "Well, he didn’t say exactly, but he talks as if it was about a fortnight ago that he left. Anyhow, he didn’t think it was long enough ago for Mr Spurier to have got out of the habit of keeping his revolver in the drawer in his little private supper-room. Between you and me, sir. I think it looks queer that that thing should have gone.” "What’s the address of this youth?" asked the detective. "I don’t know, sir. He just comes in and out. Not every day—but pretty often. He’s got in with a filmproducing company now, and 1 think his time is pretty well taken up." Darcy’Darkin took a card from hipocket. "When he conies again give him this card and tell him that if he comes to this address he’ll get twenty pounds for twenty minutes’ talk. That’s a pound a minute. He can ring up ami make an appointment if he likes. That might be better. My telephone number is on the card." The barber glanced at the name on the -card and became immediately Interested. "Mr Darkin! Oh! Are you work ing on this case, sir?" "Not openly—only privately. I always try to avoid open competition with the Scotland Yard men, you know.” When he left the little place, shaved and looking as fresh as if he had no! had a hard night’s work without a single minute -of sleep, he made his way on foot to a. large motor firm. With the keen long sight that was characteristic of his little ugly eyes he saw, while still three hundred yards away, a man with, a peculiarly foreignlooking head and a very Spanish figure, curved and graceful, almost as a woman’s, come down the, steps of tin motor firm's premises, and walk away in the stream of people hurrying along the pavement. Raphael Tanza, the dancer! What had he been doing in -so expensive a place as a motor manufacturer’s show rooms ? Curiosity on this point, tinged with more than a little suspicion, made him question the head of the motor firm as soon as his own business had been got through. "As we are talking confidentially, may I ask what you know about a Spaniard—or at any rate, a halfSpaniard—called Raphael Tanza. a professional dancer, whom I saw leaving this place a few minutes ago?" "Oh. that foreign-looking man? He's really a Spaniard, is he? I thought he must be. Well, I don’t know anything about him, except that he looks like being a very profitable customer. He has just ordered a car, price two thousand pounds, and he says he’ll want another one for a lady within a month or two." “H’m! I should make sure of my money if I were you, before handing him over the car." "He said something about coming into a fortune." Darcy Darkin wondered. He -remembered that the man Raphael Tanza had said the same thing to the manager of the grand West-end hotel in whose cabaret show he danced. He said, that he would not be dancing there very much longer, because he was coming into a big amount, of money. It was clear that the little scoun - drel really believed that he would soon be the possessor of wealth. Where did he think it was coming from? Did he expect to swindle it out of somebody? The detective went home to his office in the City. There he found his old clerk waiting for him with rather more than usual eagerness. "Look here, sir! There’s something here that you need to know." He thrust, a Manchester newspaper into the detective’s hand, pointing to a. particular column. "It's an account of Jerome Spurier’s South American career, and it ends up with reference to his partnership with Mr William Darvllle, formerly of Croyden. It seems that this William Darville’s full name was William Darville Holtby, and he has just died. He must have made good, for he has left a fortune of two mil lion pounds. Two millions, sir! And he lias left it all to his daughter, Clementnle Holtby. Is this the same Clementine Holtby as the one now in 'prison waiting for her trial for Spurier’s murder? But no, of course it can’t, be! That, one " "Never mind who she is yet. I want to digest this.” He took the newspaper into his own inner sanctum and read it over to himself quietly. "Two millions!" he cogitated aloud I presently, with a little snap in his ; voice. "Two millions!" This accounted for Raphael Tanza’s boastings that he was corning In for money. In some amazing way he must have found out earlier than anyone else about her father’s will. And yet—how could he possibly think that she would marry him simply in order to prevent him from being a witness against her in the matter of her having been the girl who was alone with Spurier when he died—and who had tired at him? (io ue Continued.!