"The Double Problem."

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 79, Issue 243, 14 October 1936, Page 2

"The Double Problem."

SERIAL STORY

( By

FRANCIS BROWN)

Calmly Ignoring the outburst th* Professor continued to address himself to Nada. “ What I have told you is perfectly true. Mrs Bradley,” he said with unusual gentleness. “ Your husfoand will never, as far as I know, have to stand his trial on a charge of murder. On excavating the well I found nothing— I give you my word of honour —but brushwood and—the articles 1 have already mentioned.” “ Then perhaps.” sneered Stephen Maine, white to the lips and filled afresh with an unreasoning dread, “ you can inform us of the whereabouts of Mr Michael Enderby? Where is he?” Once more there was a pulsating pause, dramatic in its intensity. And then for answer the professor slowly removed the disfiguring green goggles without which no one present had ever seen him, and, raising his head looked long and steadily at his questioner. “ Perhaps I can tell you, Mr Stephen Maine. He is here—in this room —where you saw him last before you carried his supposed dead body out into your garden, and with the help of your friend here, lowered it into the well on to a heap of brushwood.” With the removal of the green goggles the high-pitched tones were dropped, the voice that spoke had a musical timbre; it was fuller and richer, more in keeping with the stature and (build of the man who looked so sternly and relentlessly into the eyes of his erstwhile friend. ” Mick! ” The name fell in a cracked whisper across the deathlike stillness as the speaker, held by the hypnotic gaze of those condemning eyes, looked back in startled horror and dread. ‘‘Mick.’” iie breathed again and falling back, groped at the mantel for support. For the first time the man known for so many weeks as Professor Thomas Green, lost something of his calm; his strong lean-featured face worked convulsively. “ Steve The deep musical bass with Ils stern note and hint of reproachful sorrow, boomed and filled the room with its resonance, but it was the old familiar name recalling happy though poverty-stricken days out West that went like a knife-thrust to the heart »f Stephen Maine. And in that moment of horrified recognition he realised all that he had .flayed for and lost. CHAPTER XX Temptation. Fite voice that had arrested Bruce Chesson when fitting the latchkey into his door could belong to no other man—he was sure of it —'but his cousin, Geoffrey Stanton. The face of the man he had not seen, but the voice was unmistakable, and on the mpulse of the moment iie hailed an •mpty taxi and gave a hurried direcion to the driver. A few moments later he was in hot »ursuit and then and then only did .emembrancc come to him of all he stood to lose if his suspicions proved correct. And with remembrance vanished all the sweet hopes he had lately allowed his fancy to dally with of ever possessing Natalie Page for a help-mate. So obsessed was he with the thoughts that rioted in his brain that for some time he did not notice in what direction he was speeding; in a mechanical kind of way iie was aware that the other taxi was neing kept in sight and that the distance seemed long, but when at last the man stopped with the information that they had reached Camden Town and the “ other gent ” had entered a particular house further up the road, ,ie was intensely surprised. What on earth was Geoffrey Stanton doing in Camden Town? It was a road in one of the quieter parts in that locality and the house pointed out to him* had lately been converted into fiats, one of which jwned Stephen Maine as tenant. A porter stood outside smoking a cigarette, and after requesting his man to wait, Bruce Ghesson walked up to the former and pressed something into .lis hand. •• The gentleman who arrived in a taxi about two minutes ago—can you tell me which fiat he entered?” The man removed his cigarette and, glancing swiftly down at the palm of his hand, hesitated. It was not often that such a good r bait was proffered him for information. It behoved him to be careful. He was to a certain extent a servitor of Stephen Maine’s, who was also generous with his tips, and it was intu Stephen Maine’s fiat that the gentleman in question had disappeared. ” It's all right,” smiled Bruce, divining his thoughts. “ I have an idea that the gentleman about whom 1 am enquiring is a relative and friend of mine that I’ve not seen for some years, but I do not wish to intrude unnecessarily if 1 am mistaken.” The man. re-assured, slipped the money into his pocket. “Thank you, sir. It's the ground floor fiat as the gents went into—and it belongs to Mr Maine, in fact the whole block of fiats round here belongs to him.” “And the other one?” prompted Bruce- “Do you happen to know his name?” . “Oh yes, sir, he's a great friend of Mr *Maine’s —Mr Michael Enderby his name is, sir, a gent with a scar all down one cheek . . •” He broke off at sight of Bruce Chesson’s face. Whether it was relief or disappointment or surprise tiiat flashed over it he could not rightly conjecture. It was a strangely baffling expression that stimulated the man's curiosity. “ Not your friend, sir?” he queried. Bruce Ghesson glanced towards the lighted windows of the ground floor flat. Should he go and make further enquiries or not? The name of Michael Enderby stirred some shadowy recollection of the past. Now where had lie heard, or seen that name be-

fore? His gaze dropped to the porter's face. “ No-o,” he said ;slow]y, for his mind was still grappling with that faint memory. “No, I must have been mistaken —my friends’s name is not Michael Enderby.” But—had he been mistaken? Could lie Have mistaken that voice? Was there another in the world identical with the jolly infectious tones once so familiar and so dear to him? Then the laugh—for after requesting the porter to whistle up a taxi the man said to be Michael Enderby had made some laughing remark. The laugh was identical 100. The spontaneity and breeziness of it was Geoffrey Stanton all over. But Michael Enderby— ? and a scarred cheek?. . . . It was during the early hours after a sleepless night that illumination came suddenly and Bruce Ghesson remembered about the mysterious case of Michael Enderby, various reports of which had appeared from time to time in the daily papers last October. Yes, he remembered it was in October because the alleged attack on Michael Enderby had almost, if not quite, coincided with Hie disappearance of his cousin Geoffrey. And then came another illuminating flash—a suggestion—a possibility that effectually banished any further idea of sleep, a possibility which would necessitate his losing no time in seeking out Lord Clavers. , But such alas! is human frailly—it was two full days after that before Bruce Ghesson could bring himself to any decisive step. In fact, it was the morning succeeding the memorable dinner party at the Grange when, having put temptation behind him, he set out for Lord 'Clavers’ house to tell him that he strongly suspected that, Geoffrey was living. Those two days when temptation held him in its luring grip were the blackest he had ever known. During long feverish hours he had tramped his room backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards with Natalie's sweet face ever before his mental vision. Why should he speak? Why should he give voice! to his suspicions? After all he might be mistaken in the possibility that had flashed to him in those early wakeful hours. Therefore why not let things slide and, if no further development ensued, in a year’s time he might win the girl he loved, and then— For a few brief delirious moments anticipation of the happiness that might be in store dazzled him and then, to stab him, came remembrance of Natalie when she walked with him in the park—a faint flush suffusing cheeks hollowed by suffering—a fluttering sigh from softly parted lips, eyes wide and shining when momentarily she glimpsed what the return of Geoffrey would mean to her .... And then her voice in response to his hypocritical wish that he could find the man she' loved: “Ahl... if only you could. Bruce 1” All through the next night in his dreams he was tormented and pursued with the tempter ever at his elbow’ whispering insidiously in his ear. painting a dazzling future, a glorified earth shared by him and Natalie alone. He awoke haggard-eyed and unrefueshed with no appetite for the templing breakfast that was later served up for him. At mid-day he summoned his man, told him he was going to sec Lord Clavers and might be away until late. Meanwhile his clothing and certain books were to be packed in readiness lor a prolonged sojourn abroad. It was Lady Clavers, however, who came to Bruce Ghesson in the morning room into which he was shown, and as soon as lie saw' her he knew that something wonderful had happened. The proud, youthful-looking face was quivering with emotion, the eyes usually so coldly indifferent save towards those she loved, were alight with something that he, favourite though he was, had never glimpsed before. She came towards him as she invariably did, with outstretched hands of welcome and, with a broken smile, laid her beautiful white head on his shoulder. “Is it Geoffrey?” he whispered. She nodded. “ He’s upstairs now,” she said, “and Natalie is with him.” The arm that held her lightened convulsively. With a swift movement Bruce Ghesson bent his handsome head and kissed the snow white hair. “Thank God!” lie said simply. And in his heart he knew that he meant it; in his heart lie knew that the other way, had he been allowed tn take it, would have only led to misery and disappointment. “ We had a telephone mesage -early this morning from a Mr Keith Darrell, and Geoffrey was brought home here an hour ago,” went on Lady Clavers. “ Brought here?” echoed Bruce sharply. She nodded again, and gently disengaging himself, walked over to a cushioned settee. “Sit down, dear boy, and I’ll tell you all about it. It’s a terrible story, an amazing story, that Mr Darrell, who is a young detective, has just told us.” Then in broken, halting sentences — at times breaking down completely under the emotion that gripped her — Lady Clavers made known all that had happened to her son from the time of his mysterious disappearance on the eve of his wedding up to an hour ago when lie had been brought back to his own home and carried upstairs. “Ho recovered consciousness late last night,” she said when she had related all she knew, “and with it his memory was restored, but as regards what took place after losing his way in the fog and entering that awful house, his mind is now a complete blank. The doctors arc' hoping they may be able to treat the disfigurement on his face so tiiat in time it will be barely noticeable,” she added after a moment's silence. Bruce nodded. “Poor old Geoff!” he said gently, and his thoughts flew to the stricken man upstairs and —to Natalie, and again ho thanked God that things were as they were. (To be oonPn-if*d.'