“The Japanese Parasol”

Wairarapa Daily Times, 14 October 1929, Page 7

“The Japanese Parasol”

(Copyright).

CHAPTER XXll.—Continued. Ho lapsed into silence, pondering over the revelations which forced him to regard a local magnate, of whom he had stood in some awe, in the guise of a criminal, but even while Lucas was watching him, with secret entertainment,' his face brightened, lie had just recollected that he, too, had a story to tell, one which might even interest this man from Scotland Yard who had just upset all his preconceived conceptions, certainly one which would interest and cause the gravest anxiety to Hugh Monro. Thereupon he poured it out—the boys’ finding of Gwen’s cloak, his interview with Mrs Bourne, and finally that ghastly shriek which had broken in upon their conversation. If he anticipated making a sensation he was not disajipointed. Lucas sprang from his seat as if he had been electrically propelled. “You fool,” ho almost shouted. “Why didn’t you tell ns this at once —letting us sit here and waste precious time?”

Blagdon started. Ilis customary self-satisfied pomposity, which he had treassum.ed while making his report, fell away from him, as it generally did in Lucas’s presence. All the same, he was moved to remonstrance. “Steady, Inspector,” he grumbled,

'that’s strong language to use, you

know. After all I liad to listen to your story, which might have been more important than mine for all I knew. ’ ’

Lucas recognised the force of this. “You’re right,” he admitted, “I apologise, and withdraw that remark. Hang it all, I believe this business is getting on my nerves. Well, Mr Blagdon, what occurred after you heard that cry?” “There was no getting any more from Mrs Bourne,” the superintendent said. “She was completely prostrated, and the servant was as bad. I don’t "wonder for it gave mo quite a turn myself. Whoever shrieked might have been in the room itself, and yet there wasn’t a sign of anyone over the whole house. I searched it from bottom to top.” Lucas nodded. His eyes were glit-

tering again, and his fingers commenced to open a fresh packet of chewing gum. ( “Yes?” ho commented. “What did you do next?”

' ‘ What anyone would have done, I suppose. Seeing .tka't the girl had last been seen in Colonel Winthrop’s company the night before, I went over to Grange Hall to find out if he could shed any light on the mystery —though naturally I had no suspicions of any kind against him then.”

Naturally; did you. find him in?”

“Mo; 1 saw his sister, Mis 3 Winthrop, who told me that he had had to go away early on urgent business. She was looking worried, now I come to think of it,” he added reflectively. . “That is quite likely,” Lucas observed. “I fancy Miss -Winthrop has a good deal to worry her in connection with her brother. You didn’t tell her your errand, I suppose?” “Mo, I didn’t; I came straight back hero, and set people to work dragging the river. ’ ’

The Scotland Yard man made a gesture of approval, but Hugh, who all this time had refrained from interfering only by the greatest effort, leapt to his feet. His tormented face showed how badly this news regarding Gwen had hit him.

“Surely,” he cried, “surely you don’t believe that she is—drowned?”

A glance at him decided Lucas’s reply.

“Mo ; I don’t,” he answered brus quely, “eh, Blagdon?” i The latter paused.

“I hardly know what to think, at present,” he said slowly. “Certainly my first impression, after the finding of that cloak, and after hearing the message that the colonel had delivered last night —particularly when I learned from Mrs Bourne of her daughter’s engagement —my first impression was that grief at Monro’s supposed death might have unbalanced her, and that she might have —”

Hugh broke in what he was about to say.

“No,” he asserted positively, “Gwen would never do that. Even though she never got that telegram, and therefore must have believed what that scoundrel told her, I know her well enough to be sure that sho would never even think of taking her life.”

“I’m inclined to your -way of thinking—now, ’ ’ Blagdon agreed. “The question remains: How did her cloak get where it was found, and where has she vanished to?” Once more silence fell between tho three of them, and Lucas knew that his thoughts and Blagdon’s were both groping round the same point —with the difference that Lucas, for reasons of his own, already held a much clearer view-point. For instance, the cry that Blagdon and Mrs Bourne had heard, inexplicable though it was to the superintendent, was by no means so to him. It was, he felt, the key to tho mystery of Gwen’s disappearance. But it opened up a vista so grim, so fearful in its ultimate application, as to render almost preferable the inference that tho cloak on the river bank suggested. The trend of Lucas’s thoughts was likely to bring scant comfort to Hugh Monro’s harassed mind.

Watching him, the young man. was already conscious of part of what was passing through his mind. Wdth the

BY ELLIOT BAILEY. Author of “Mr Benson’s Business,” “The Campden Hill Mystery,” “The Mablethorpe Tangle,” etc., etc.

“Straight up to Winthrop’s house?” Hugh asked eagerly. With their common decision that, wherever she might be, Gwen was in the colonel’s keeping, he was all agog to waste no further time'before setting out to her rescue, and his disappointment was keen when Lucas shook his head.

“No,” the detective replied, “for tho time being, Grange Hall can look after itself. I suggest, Monro, that you slip up in tho car to your own house and get that second automatic of mine I lent you —you may need it later. Then come back here —by which time Blagdon and I shall be ready for you. In the meantime there are one or two arrangements I want to make with him.

“By the way,” he added, as Hugh was about to depart, “don’t be surprised if you find two or three strange men loafing round your place. “I’ve had them placed there—they’re from the Yard, and all part of the picture. But be quick; neither you nor I want to delay things unnecessarily.” Hugh was quite sure that he, at all events, did not, and without further palaver he entered the car and was driven away. When he reached his gate, two plain clothes men materialised from nowhere in particular, and leaving them talking with the constable who was driving the car he hurried up the path and into the house, letting himself in with his latch-key, and making straight for his study where he knew the pistol was reclining in a drawer. Had he been asked the question, he would have said that nothing could now surprise him with regard to the ramifications of the affair which had commenced with the finding of Violet Chichester’s body in the punt. Since then he believed he had run through the whole gamut of surprise. He little knew when he placed his hand on the knob of his study door that yet another awaited him on the further side, one thatj under tho circumstances, lie would least have expected to occur.

His crope-soled shoes made no sound, on the rugs which carpeted the hail floor, and, as he pmshed open the door and entered, he became conscious of a tall figure standing in the room. At the noise of Hugh’s entry he swung round, and . involuntarily Hugh came to a sudden stop, his faculties, as he confessed later, shocked into a whirl. For, staring at Hugh as if lie were looking at a ghost, was Colonel James Winthrop. There was that about it. If Hugh was staggered, so without doubt was Colonel Winthrop also. The unfortunate part was that the colonel recovered first.

“Good afternoon, Monro,” he said, “so you got off the reef?” It was then that Hugh played into his hands. He forgot the existence of the police outside, was conscious one thing only—that ho was face to face with the man with whom he meant to have a reckoning. He closed the door behind him, and advanced into the room.

“You scoundrel,” he exclaimed furiously, “what have you done with Gwen? ’ ’

.The colonel’s eyebrows went up. Had Hugh been cooler, he would have seen the danger signal in his eyes, i

“I’m afraid I don’t understand you,” ho declared. “Won’t you be a trifle more explicit?” While he was speaking, he had backed up against Hugh’s writing table, and was feeling behind him for something with his hand. All at once he grasped it, and, too late, Hugh saw what was coming. With a bound Winthrop was at him, a'heavy brass candlestick swung aloft. He threw up his arm to ward the blow } but with a crash the candlestick descended upon his head. He fell like a log, and, standing over him,with an expression that was truly murderous, the colonel seemed tempted to repeat the stroke. In the end, however, he replaced the candlestick —and the next moment rvas no longer in the room.

Hugh’s first act, when later on he groped painfully to his feet, was to survey himself in a glass, and it became evident that he had at all events partly broken the force of the blow—otherwise, considering the weight of the weapon, he would have been lucky to escape with his life. As it was, an ugly bruise and a lump that was rapidly assuming gargantuan proportions were there to remind him of the encounted. He rang the bell. (To be Continued).

r lifting of the veil of false glamour which had hitherto obscured for him tho real Winthrop, trifles that would otherwise have passed unnoticed recurred to him with added magnitude —the colonel’s expression when both of them had been in Gwen’s presence, that look of something approaching enmity in the pagoda, above all his glances at the girl herself. “I know what you think, Lucas,” he cried suddenly, “that the placing of her cloak by the river is a blind, that she is in Winthrop’s power. And if so, God help her,” he added, almost in a whisper. “Amen to that,” the detective responded softly. “But keep up your heart, boy. We’ll save her yet.” CHAPTER XXIII.