The Quest of the Blue Star.

Wairarapa Daily Times, Volume LXVIII, Issue 14203, 4 February 1915, Page 7

The Quest of the Blue Star.

I EXCITING STORY OF MYSTERY AND LOVE.

. (By JOHN OAKLEY.)

Author of "Tho Hampsted Mystery," "The Blackmailer," "A Gentleman in Khaki," "Love and the Cryptogram," etc.

I CHAPTER VII. I BEGIN MY TASK. I returned to the Priory and set myself to the task of completing the alibi I had in preparation. But here I ran my head agaiust a brick wall at the very outset. I had seen Marmaduke Duuthorne alive at 2.10 a.m. Ho had been found dead by the Stimscs at 8.3". And all I had to do in proving Sir Marplo Dunthornc's innocence was to show S that his visit to the. house in Hollow r " Moor took place and was ended at some point of time prior to 2,10 a.m. Marpie himself had said that the moment ot* his return home could be easily sct- | tied, but that is where he was wrong. | When I came to question old Cramer I ' found him an anything but satisfactory I witness. He thought it would bo about midnight when Sir Marple came home, but I he could not swear to that. "Might it have been earlier than midnight'?" I asked. "Oh, yes, it might have been, but I shouldn't think so." "Might it have been later?" v "It might—-oh, yes* it might have I been." " ~_ if "You sat up for him?" *" '' Oli, yes, 1 sat up. I dozed off nslecp, aud then I heard the door bang and I went out. Sir Marple was in the hall, and he said good-night to me aud went upstairs. 1 locked all up then and tumbled into bed." | '' And you cannot say what time that was?" '' No, sir, l cannot.'' "Might it have been two o'clock?" "Yes, it might have been as late as that." "If Sir Marple had gone out again you wouldn't have heard him?" "No, sir, very likely not." "Nor his coming in again." "No, nor that neither in all probability." This was certainly a- stroke of illluck. 1 had depended on old Cramer to furnish the other half the alibi. Aud now lie had failed me. I went to the other servants, but obtained no assistance from them. Duuthorne! did not keep a large establishment—a couple of men iv the stables, old Cramer and Spidkins in the house and two or three women. But not one of them had heard Sir Marple Duuthorne come in. 1 could tell my story, but it would be of little enough use in face of such a lack of corroborative evidence. The prosecution would probably set up a ■ theory that the man I had seen in the house of the tragedy was really Marple Duuthorne himself, or, breaking down there in view of tho positive swearing I should be able to do, they would bring up another theory that DunIk, thome had been somewhere about the 3 premises. What I could not quite make (§ up my mind upon was as to whether S or not I should tell my story yet. When m I learnt that the inquest on the mora row, and the first magisterial hearing, 'ffl were to be merely formal affairs, and |Jf that adjournments were to be taken a in both cases, I decided to wait. Was j! I right or was I wrong? Even now I ij do not know that I can decide a I went to bed that night worn out h and dispirted, unable to catch a hold of 1% the skirts of sleep. H It would be perhaps half an hour afH ter midnight that I heard a knock at |§ my door. I arose and opened it, to find &j Spidkius yawning on the mat. IM "I've only just got back," he said. gj "Did you find the man?" JS "Oli, yes, I found 'im right enough. H He's staying at the old Bridge Inn five S miles out from this. They call him SI Hugler—Mister Hugler. I 'ung about s| until I'd made sure he'd gone to bed || and was afe for the night." Il "Good, you can take me there toi*J morrow. And now off to bed with H I should have a busy day as I could P well foresee. There would be first the li inquest, then the magistrates, and fmV ally old Hugler to interview. I fell . asleep at last, revolving in my mind f all sorts of theories and plans, not one "» of which, as I am bound to confess, I seemd to be worth a row of pins. fl I had a visitor early in the morning, I a gentleman who from his garb T rc- § cognised as the vicar of the parish. 1 "You are Mr Lanider," he said. I "I have ben to see Sir Marple, and be I told mo that you were working on his 1 behalf. If I can help —" I "You do not believe him guilty?" | "I have known Sir Marple intimateJ ly since he was three years of age, and I he could no more have committed this | crime than I could fly." | "That I suppose is faith, lacking I knowledge?" I queried. | "I am afraid it is," he admitted. I '■ "The case is rather black against him." f "Yes —did he tell you of the money j he borrowed?" | I nodded, a little annoyed that Dun I thome should have imparted that fact I also to the vicar. , • "That will go dead against him if it is known." "Yes." "And now, is there anything"! can do? I am a magistrate, and have some influence around here. If I can help „ you " "I want most of all a chance of mak- » ing a full and independent examination "" of the dead man's house," I said. "I think that can be managed," he replied thoughtfully. "Yes, I fancy wo can arrange that." And he went on his way, a fine, upstanding figure with a massive head crowned with white hair, but for all his age muscular and athletic yet. His breezy faith in Dunthornc's innocence came as a tonic to myself, bracing me up, and nerving me to do battle with tho odds agaiijst me. I walked down next and saw old Stims, the deud man's servant. I found him a morose, taciturn old fellow, very disinclined to impart what little knowledge he may have possessed. I think his wife would have talked if ho had | let her, but he shut her up with a brusqueness which showed that he was at least master in his own house. I did not immediately relinquish my task, however, but kept on my questions with a persistence that deserved a far better result. "He hadn't many visitors —Mr Marmaduke Dunthorne," I suggested. "No, he hadn't any," old Stims adJ mittcd. "Did Colonel Spedlowo ever come?" I asked. " Never saw him." s . "And the young ladies? Did Miss y Dorothy 'ever, come?" * I waited for his answer with an eag•erness I had some difficulty in masking. '' What should she want to come I for?" he said in his surly tones "Mr I Dunthorne took no account of women.

It wtis as niucri us heM do to lot my v.'if'i. and girl come about the house, and they had to Uee]> out oi' his sight. ISo, Dorothy Spedlowo liefer oaino here nor her sister neither." 11 Tho fai-t is," 1. adiled, ai'tei' some more extremely desultory cotivcrsatioii hud passed, '' I am :i friend of Sir .'Larpio Dunthorne 's, and 1 want to find —to provo that he is innocent." "You're wasting your time, master," he said gruffly. '' You believe " "I believe it was Marple Dunthorne and no other as did the murder. I left them there together and 1. found him dead in the morning. That's clear enough, am 't it? 1 tell.you he did it, and it's no use talking." And he brought his fist down with a big bang on the table before him. I left him at that, having gained very little by my effort. I made some enquiries concerning the Stiluses, but again 1 found that the information to bo gained was no adequate recompense for the time and labour it involved. They were not natives of the place, nor, for the matter of that, were they long residents there. They had taken possession of their cottage when they came as Marmndukc Dunthornc's servants seven years before,, but nothing at all was known of their history. The inquest was merely a formal affair, held for purposes of identification in order that interment might take place. Only one or two witnesses were examined, and then there was an adjournment for a fortnight. Dunthorne was brought before the magistrates, too, and here again the proceedings were very brief. His solicitor did not object to a remand and tho magistrates refused bail. I did not proffer myself as a witness. Such evidence as. I could give would not help me. The alibi that I had in mind must be a lot more complete ere it could be of any Old Colonel Spedlowe and I walked away from the court-house together. "it looks very black," he said very gloomily. He was a curious old fellow, very reserved of speech, and never venturing on a smile. Evidently they were not rich, but I did not think that that ac- < counted entirely for his somewhat sombre demeanour. There was moro behind it all. "It is not a very cheerful outlook, certainly," I responded. "But I believe in him, and I have no intention of giving up. I have promised him to j unravel it, and " j "Are you remaining here, then!" j "I think so." "At the Priory?" "I am not sure of that." "Come down and stay with us. I am interested in all this, as you may guess, for Marjory's sake." I demurred a little at first, but eventually I agreed. Should I have done so had J known alKit meant? Pro bably. At. all events I think the chief motive that inspired me to accept his invitation was in order that I might have a chance of more closely investigating Miss Dorothy Spedlowe's connection with the affair. Alas! I reckoned without due consideration. I miscalculated my strength. Before I had boon three days iv that ' house the girl I was hunting down had become for me the centre of the urn- ; verse, all that made life worth living. 1 struggled against it, as I need not say, but I was helpless, and alter a while I surrendered myself to the sweet madness, hoping, almost against hope, that I might be wrong in identifying her with the woman I had seen in that house of tragedy. I became no more sure of that, indeed, as the days went on, though I made a point of putting that side of the case with what I regarded as unmistakable clearness. (To be Continued.) *"- ■-- -- r ©- —