THE "HOODED TERROR,”

Wairarapa Daily Times, 10 May 1932, Page 7

THE "HOODED TERROR,”

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

BY DONALD STUART. (Author of “Tho Invisible Clue,” “Mister Midnight,” “The Secret of Whispering Beeches,” etc).

COPYRIGHT.

CHAPTER lll—Continued. “A man named ‘Blackie ’ Phrynne,” ho answered. “'He was a criminal. These people have extraordinary names. It appears that he was a member of the gang, but had decided to turn informer on account of the reward. He had discovered the real identity of this criminal, and was preparing to tell the police all he knew. They had a wonderful chance, but bungled it, and allowed the man to be murdered on the very doorstep. I certainly agree with the papers, that most drastic steps should be taken immediately, and the Police Force thoroughly reorganised — yes, reorganised.” The girl made' no reply, she was thinking of 'Richard Trent, and his pale face and (Uirkwireled eyes. No wonder liq looked ill and tired out, “As long as this criminal is allowed to remain at large,” continued the banker, “it is impossible for any respectable citizen to feel secure. Ini not naturally a nervous man —.” Christine smiled inwardly, for there had been an occasion when Mr Lathbury had enlisted the services of the entire staff to deal with a mouse that had intruded into 'his private office —“ but I confess that since the robbery of the bank and my discovery of poor Walters on the stairs, my nerves have been a complete wreck —yes, a complete wreck.” .“ Lou should see a doctor,” said the girl. “I have consulted several,” replied Mr Lathbury, “and have consumed a vast quantity of medicine, but it has done me no good. Tho last doctor informed me that I lived too- much alone, and advised me to seek more' bright and congenial society. In short, he — er, suggested that I should marry —yes, marry. ’ ’ He stopped, and his hand, straying nervously about the desk, picked up a pencil and started drawing innumerable little circles on- the blotting pad. Christine knew this little habit of ■old, and knew that it denoted that the stout banker was thinking deeply. For some time Lathbury remained silent, and the girl waited, wondering what was coming next. Twice during the interval lie opened his mouth as though about to speak, but closed it again without the words being uttered. He had apparently forgotten that she was still standing, which was unlike him, for usually Lathbury was the essence of politeness, and without waiting for permission she sat down in her usual chair opposite him on t'he other side of the big desk. The movement seemed to rouse him from his reverie, for he continued where he had left off. “I have for some weeks been considering relinquishing the state of —er .—single blessedness,” he said. “I have amassed a considerable amount of —shall' we say—worldly goods, and I am by no means an old man —the disparity in our ages is not, in these days, an insurmountable obstacle —and I would endeavour to do all in my power to make you— er—happy—yes, happy. ’ ’ He paused. Christine sat stunned, and it was some minutes before she dould think of a suitable reply, for Lathbury was obviously waiting for her to speak. “Is this a proposal?” she managed to gasp at length. The banker nodded ponderously. “No doubt it ha scome as rather a shock to you,” he said, “I flatter myself that I have managed to conceal my feeling for you up till now. Possibly you have never looked upon me in the light of a husband, but I have given a lot of thought to- the matter, and I can see no reason why this should hot be—yes, should not be.” ' He spoke as though he were reciting a carefully rehearsed speeeli, and if the bank itself had suddenly fallen down and collapsed about her ears, the girl could not have been more astonished. She could only gaze at him open-eyed, scarcely believing the evidence of her senses.

“But—Mr Lathbury,” she stammered, and her throat had gone so suddenly dry that she found difficulty in getting her words out, “I had no idea—” ‘ ‘ There is no need for you to decide in a hurry —er —Christine,” said Lathbury. ‘‘ I quite realise that —er, the suddenness of my proposal has for the moment —er —taken your breath away. But take time and think it over yes, think it over.

“It’s-very kind of you,” she answered, ‘‘and, of course, I feel, ’ she hesitated —“honoured, but I’m afraid it’s impossible, I don’t want to marry you, 1 don’t want to marry anybody.” “I never expected—l never hoped that you would consent immediately,’ said Mr Latlibuiy, “all I want you to do is to consider it —er —at your leisure, and not to be hasty —no, not to be hasty. ” Christine was saved the embarrassment of a reply, by a tap on the door, and the appearance of Jackson, one of the clerks with a card.

Mr Lathbury looked at him with a frown, and waved his hand in protest. “I really cannot see anybody. I’m extremely busy. Who is it?” lie asked sharply. “A Mr Harold 'Stepping, sir,” answered the clerk, ‘ ‘ he wishes to see you about opening an account at the bank. ’ ’

He laid the card on the desk, and James Lathbury picked it up, and twirled it about in liis fat hand hesitantly. “Oh .well, I’ll see him,” he said shortly at last, Christine welcomed the interruption, for it gave her time to think and recover from the shock of the banker’s proposal. She passed Mr Stepping as she left the inner office, but beyond the fact that he was tall, and rather plainly dressed, she scarcely noticed him, and even if she had he certainly would

have meant nothing to

Had Richard Trent, at the precise moment in close converse with Inspector Cowles, been there, however, itwould have been a different matter, for Mr Stepping figured largely in the Record Office at Scotland Yard under the name of “Sparkler” Wallace, and several other aliases, while written beneath in a neat hand in red ink was the word “Dangerous.” CHAPTER IV.—'THE MAN WHO WATCHED. Mr James Lathbury, having completed his day’s business, stepped into his big car at the door of the bank, and sank back into its luxurious cushions, with a sigh of relief. During the journey home to his house in Grosvenor-square he allowed his mind to wander aimlessly over the events of the day, and, occupying the foremost place in his thoughts was Christine Baker. He had not expected the girl to accept his offer of marriage at once, but he possessed a sufficient amount of personal vanity to- believe that with careful bundling, slip would eventually consent. With half-closed eyes he lay back and speculated pleasantly on the future. - - - It was not generally kiibwii, but Mr Lathbury practically owned fhe' Western and Union Bank. Entering the business as Manager some years l previously, at a time when the bank Was almost on the verge of being insolvent, he had, by sheer financial ability, pulled it through the crisis and at the same time acquired the bulk of the shares. In the city of London the. Western and Union Bank was respected without being considered. It was a survival of one of those private banking Corporations, that had come into existence in the early part of the eighteenth century and had successfully resisted the encroachments of the great Joint Stock Companies. Its business, under the skilful handling of James Lathbury, was fairly prosperous and its clientele extremely select. At times enormous sums passed through its books. The limousine drew up at the banker’s house, and Mr Lathbury alighted. Ilis middle-aged, ultra-respectable, butler was waiting in the hall to help him off with his coat, and, after his usual remark upon the state of the weather, a remark which lie invariably made every night at the same time, with the regularity of clockwork, Mr Lathbury ascended to- his study on the first floor to read the -evening paper until it v r as time for his dinner. Starting with the financial column and City notes, it was his usual custom to work steadily through the papers until he had exhausted their contents, and kept himself thoroughly up-to-date regarding the latest news of the day, but to-night his thoughts wandered from the printed pages before, him, and try as he would he could not prevent the vision of a girl’s face, set in a framing of spun-gold hair, and two limpid blue eyes that seemed to stare steadfastly into his own, from intruding itself between his gaze and the paper he was trying to read. He gave it up at ana tnrowing down the papers rose from his seat and strolled over to tne window, looking out upon the quiet square. VVitli t'lio coining of sunset a fine drizzle of ram hau begun to fad, and the wet pavements, reflecting blearily tne street lamps, looked bleak and miserable, and with a little shiver the banker turned from the depressing appearance of the exterior, and tried to seek cheer from the cosy intciioi of his comfortable study. A strange fit of restlessness utterly unusual to liis nature had got him in its grip, and it was with a feeling of relief tnat lie descended to liis diningroom, when Wills, the butler, announced that dinner was ready. The big room, furnished heavily in old oak, seemed to look unusually spacious and empty, and the soiitaiy plate set at one enu or tiie large tame, more lonely than it had ever done before.

Wills deferentially pulled out his master’s chair, and witn a suppiesseci sigh, the banker sat down. The dinner was carefully chosen and beautifully cooked and served, for Lathbury vus something of an epicure and believed in the good things of life, but to-night, for some reason, he seemed to have lost his appetite, and dish after dish was sent away scarcely touched. When the meal was finished, the banker ordered coffee to be brought to his study, and returned lie seated himself at liis desk, and occupied some time in writing letters. Having finished his coffee and also liis correspondence, he glanced at his watch, descended to the hall, and was helped into his coat. 'Passing out into tne rain-soaked street, he looked round foi a taxi. There was not one in sight, and Lathbury had to walk to the end of the street before lie found a vacant vehicle. A tall man in a light raincoat, who had been watching the house from the other side of the roadway, moved slowly in his wake, and was in time to hear the direction given to the driver. He stood for some time, after the banker had driven off, watching the receding tail-lamp of the taxi, then he returned and walked slowly back from tho place whence lie had come, chuckling softly to himself, for Mr Harold Stepping, better-known as “Sparkler” Wallace, had stumbled upon a fact, out of which he thought 'he saw a way of putting a considerable amount of money into his own pocket, a state of affairs which always had the effect of causing Mr Stepping the most profound enjoyment. 1 (To be Continued).