"The Metal Flask,"

Wairarapa Daily Times, 7 April 1931, Page 7

"The Metal Flask,"

PUBLISHED BY SPECAL ARRANGEMENT.

copyright

CHAPTER X. It was the morning of the funeral. The gathering was far larger than any that would have met in that churchyard if Frances Marjoribanks had died a natural death. Bicycles were stacked along the fence; police were present to keep order; reporters from the London dailies and from the West of England Press were gathered in a knot near the open grave. The entire village had turned out, not to do honour to the lady of the big house, but to stare curiously-at the witnesses who had given evidence at the inquest. Arthur Manderson and Captain Elliot were the mourners; Elm Cottage had sent its mistress and her sister, and from Tor Park .Sir Daniel himself had come with Peter to do honour to one who had been always hostile to him when she was alive. The aged Yiear, grown rusty in the service of a rural parish, felt that he, too, must rise to so great an occasion. His daughter, who played the organ a little uncertainly, had spent the previous afternoon in rehearsing the Dead March in “Saul.” The parish clerk, .the same who had done his best to stand out against his fellow-jurymen, threw his convictions into the sonority of his “Amens.”

The reporters were in the Churchyard discussing the murder, and so missed the Vicar’s exuberant little address in which he over-emphasised the kindliness, the gentleness and the open-hand-ed charity of our poor sister so untimely called away. And the organist made a sad hash of the Funeral March, because, so she said, Tommy Mason, who officiated at the bellows, did not give her enough wind for the rumble in the pedals. They had words about it afterwards.

There was a buzz of excitement when the cortege, marshalled by the local undertaker, emerged from the church. It was sternly repressed by the police-ser-geant on duty, who -shouted “'Silence” as if he were in a Law Court.

“Who’s the bald-headed blighter with the red face all screwed up as if he’d got the' toothache?” asked a reporter from the “Daily Mercury.” “A cousin, I believe —Anderson or Sanderson they call him.” But Arthur Manderson was only wearing the expression he considered appropriate to funerals. “He looks ghastly, the Captain, don’t he?” whispered the keeper’s wife to her sister. “Xo wonder, poor man, with his son in gaol, condemned to death, as you might say. ” Judd had claimed the right to be one of the bearers of his late mistress. All the other servants were there, Mrs Woolston, brooding like Fate over the proceedings, and Ellen sobbing her heart out, because she was emotional and was deserted.by her affianced.

Peter Graham was standing with Sir Daniel at a little distance, and when the solemn words of the most moving service in any church were said, and the Vicar was returning to the vestry, Sir Daniel whispered “I don’t know what is being done about defending that young man, do you?” Peter assured him that the best counsel would be obtained. “Yes,” said the old man, “but the best counsel costs money and there may not be mue-h of it about. I wish you would convey a hint that I would like to take a hand in it by getting the very best man that money can buy. You understand? The bill’s to be sent to me.” d*; Peter felt that he could have hugged his host if he were not so hirsute. The household at Broad Clvst ' enjoyed no respite. The servants had scarcely returned from the funeral when the Superintendent of the County Police appeared with his clerk to take detailed statements from them to be forwarded to the Director of Public Prosecutions. He was accompanied by Lawyer Endacott, who had called to take charge of Miss Marjoribanks’s will. “If you do not mind, Superintendent, I think we might go straight up to the writing-table mentioned in the maid’s evidence. That's where we shall find.the will.” “That room will have to be searched. We may as well do it at the same time.” Judd left them in Miss Marjoribanks’s bedroom, saying, “You will ring, sir,- if you want anything.” He had not long to wait for a summons. Mr Endacott seemed to be perturbed. “Will you please ask Miss

Dawkins, the maid, to come here at ‘once.” Deborah Dawkins mounted the stairs with the air of those martyrs for conscience sake, who were called upon to climb the fatal ladder to the scaffold. It was enough for her that a police inspector was lying in wait. Nor had Mrs Woolston’s parting words, when Judd brought the message, done anything to comfort her. “I’m glad it’s you, Miss Dawkins,” she had said, “very glad. You may melt the stony heart of that inspector, which is more than I would undertake to do. He may let you sleep one more night in your own bed.” “Miss Dawkins,” began the lawyer smoothly, “you said in your evidence that you put that will into one of the drawers in this room. We’ve been through all the drawers and we can’t find it.” * “This was the drawer I put it in, sir.” “Well, look for yourself.” Dawkins was glad to be able to fall oh her knees which had been giving way under her. She took out paper after paper and turned a scared face upon

BY SIR BASIL THOMSON. (Author of ‘ ‘ Carfax Abbey, ”“ Mr Pepper, Investigator, ” “ The Skene Papers,” etc).

Endacott remained in secret conference with the inspector for many minutes before Judd was called to the room. He was sent in quest of Captain Elliot, wlio was immersed in accounts in the business room downstairs. He came to them at once.

“We have asked for you, Captain Elliot, to see whether you can throw any light upon the will made in favour of your son. We cannot find it anywhere. ’ ’ “Cannot find it?” Elliot’s face was -suffused. “It must be found.” “The maid says that the door was kept locked and she knows of no other key.” A light seemed to break ill upon Elliot.

“I suppose she did not know of the master key. Miss Marjoribanks had a great dread of lire and she arranged that there should be one master key that would open every door in the house. It was kept hanging on a nail in the hall, but I do not think that any of the servants, who may have seen it there, knew what it was for. When I suggested having the key made she stipulated that the servants were not to be told of it. She may, of course, have told the butler. The matter is so serious that I suggest having them up, one by one, and questioning them in the presence of the inspector. If anyone has beenMnto the room since the death it must have been one of the servants.” He rang the bell and Judd made his appearance. “Judd, I want you to bring us the master key. ” “The master key, sir? What key is that?” “You know, the key that opens all the doors in case of fires.” “You must be mistaken, sir. I never heard of such a key.” “You have seen it hanging in the hall.” “You mean the rusty old key that’s hung on a nail under the stairs, sir? I thought that was the key of the furnace room. I can get you that key, sir. I believe I saw it as late as yesterday.” He was back with the key in under a- mniute. The inspector tried it. It turned the lock of the door.

;“Send Robert up .to us, Judd/’ said Elliot, who seemed to have taken charge of the proceedings. Robert wore an expression of gravity which far out-ran his years. He did not seem to be in the least daunted at having to face the three inquisitors, but he was composed and respectful. “Robert,” said Elliot, “have you had any special instructions in case of fire?”

“Not that I know of, sir.” “'lf a fire broke out in a room that was locked up, what would you do?” “I’d fetch the case-opener, sir, and break through the door.” “Why not use the master key?”

“There isn’t one, sir.” “The key that hangs near the coats in the hall.”

“That’s not a master key, sir. That’s the key of the furnace room.” “Very well. Will you send Ellen up here?” They did not hear the manner in which the message was conveyed. Robert found the housemaid in her pantry. “You’re wanted, Ellen.” “Who 'wants me?”

“The captain, and if you don’t tell him the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, you're in for it.” “You’re kidding me.” “If you keep him waiting he won’t ask you no questions. He’ll call in the police. So hurry up.'” “Where is lie, Robert?” “In the mistress’s bedroom, unless lie’s waiting somewhere to pop out on you.” It was not the kind of preparation that conduced to an appearance of calm and innocence. Ellen appeared before the inquisition with heaving breast. V Yes, sir,’’she said with a gulp. *‘We want to ask you a few questions, Ellen. Have you even been into this room since Miss Marjoribanks’s death?” “No, sir, I wouldn’t have dared.” “Has anyone else been in?” “No, sir, I’m sure they haven’t.” “What was that key for that hangs under the stairs in the hall?” “Oh, that was a master key, sir, that opens all the rooms.” “How do you know that?” “Because Mr Manderson told me, sir. It was one day when he was going to get his coat and I’d knocked the key down on the floor with my brush. He told me to- be careful because that key was very important and opened all the rooms when the house caught fire.” (To be Continued).

I Endacott. She did not dare look at the ' Inspector, feeling sure that he was lingering the handcuffs that were to click about her wrists. “Did you keep the drawer locked ? ” “No, sir, not the drawer, but the door of the room was locked.” “Who kept the key?” “I—l did.” Her teeth were chattering. “ And the key was never out of your keeping?” “Xo, sir.” The inspector spoke for the first time, and Dawkins started violently, “There was no other key?” “Not that I know of, sir.” “That will do, thank you, Miss Daw- 1 kins,” said the lawyer. Dawkins fled to her own room; she could not face the Sybil in her present moed.