"The Cry in the Night,”

Wairarapa Daily Times, 23 March 1935, Page 7

"The Cry in the Night,”

(COPYRIGHT.) PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

CHAPTER V. “Who?” Charlton himself echoed the question as ho saw the girl turn and stare at the closed door, her blue eyes shining with fear, and as he half-whispered the word, ho himself stared at the decorated panels as if he would pierce them and discover the man on the further side. In his mind there was but one thought —that already Scotland Yard was at work and thus early on the track of Miss Rowthorne. The possibility appalled him a little, and the fact that if the police learned of his own visits to Pondicherry Lodge his association with the girl would involve her more deeply troubled him greatly. But he could do nothing. To leave without discoverey was now impossible; to hide, with the certainty of being found in the event of a search, would only make matters worse; and there was nothing for it but to abide the

issue. The footsteps came nearer, a hand fumbled at the knob, and there followed a clumsy rap upon the door. The girl made no attempt to answer the summons, but stayed at the door as if hypnotised, until the unknown knocked a second time; then Charlton whispered:

“Better answer, Miss Bobbie.” At that she moved to the door, lifted a shaking hand to the catch, slipped it back, and opened the door. A man lurched into the room, and a cry of heartfelt relief broke from the girl. “Adrian! —you! ” The first glimpse of the new-comer told Charlton the truth. Here was the girl’s brother —a dissipateddooking young man but with a strong likeness to his sister, and at the moment clearly under the influence of drink or of drugs. That much he marked, when the girl’s relief ebbed as swiftly as it had surged, and in a voice that was tense with consternation, she cried:

“Oh, why have you come here?” The newcomer pulled himself up a little, and stared at her in a bemused kind of way. Then he laughed oddly: “Say, Bobbie, wliat —?” At that moment lie caught sight of Charlton, and broke oft, then added: “Oh, I see —company. Introduce me, Bobbie.” The girl did not make the introduction. Instead she looked at her dissipated brother -with eyes that missed no detail, and a little cry broke from her. “You must go, Adrian! You must go at once —before the police come for you. ” . Adrian Rowtliorno visibly stiffened. For a second a light of intelligence gleamed in his clouded eyes, and lie ejaculated hoarsely: “The police!”' ‘Watching him closely, Charlton saw that whatever the reason, the man had cause to fear the attention of the law. And something else he saw, also —something at which Bobbie Rowthorne was staring with horrified eyes, and which, as ho saw it, made him catch his breath. On the man’s right hand was a smudge, almost black, that might have been paint or some stain, but which Charlton, fresh from a service that was always active, recognised for dried blood.

“Yes!” said the girl. “They may be hero any moment. There are reasons— ”

“Reasons!” achoed tlie young man in a stupid way as if the liquor _of narcotic under which he was labouring were reasserting itself. “Yes!” cried his sister in a frenzy of impatience. “You were to have seen Arthur Studholme to-night. Did you go?” “Took a taxi and—” He laughed oddly. “But, er—didn’t get there you know. Met a—a friend —” In Charlton’s ears the latter part of his utterance had a note of insincerity. It sounded the very lamest excuse and with the girl’s unspoken fears to influence his outlook, ho found' it utterly unconvincing. The girl plainly found it the same. “Oh!” she cried tragically. “Don’t you know! Arthur Studholme is dead —murdered! ” “Murdered! ”

The echoed word was no more than a hoarse whisper, the look on the speaker’s face was enigmatic, and though for one second there was a flash in his sodden eyes, Charlton could not guess whether that which his sister had cried was news to him or not. Then, unexpectedly, the man turned on his heel and began to stumble towards the door.

“Adrian!” cried the girl quickly. “Wait! Before you go, change and — and — hands.” “Wash —my —hands! ’ ’ The man staccatoed the words, whilst with his hands held out before him he stared vacantly down at his open palms. Then ho turned them over. As he did so his face lost his vacuity; there was a flash of dreadful intelligence in his eyes, and he ejaculated hoarsely. “My God!” He did not speak again; he avoided his sister’s eyes, and turned sharply he began to walk towards a door across the room, on his way passing Charlton as if the latter had been a stone. Charlton marked the look of dazed horror on the dissipated face, and as the man disappeared in what was probably a bathroom, he turned and looked at the girl. On her beautiful face was a hint of tho horror that was so plain on her brother’s, and as she met Charlton’s eyes, she whispered brokenly: “You s-saw? Oh —what shall I do?”

He did not know what to advise. Tho thought in her mind was quite clear to him. Her brother had had an appointment at Pondicherry Lodge, which, so lamely as to bo utterly unconvincing, he averred ho had not kept; and Studholme was dead, slain by someone who had gone to the house with a definite purpose in his mind. All these things pointed one way, as Charlton could not but acknowledge; and that which they was almost too appalling to be put into words. “I do not know what you can do,” he said, quietly. “Studholme was quite worthless! The fate that has overtaken him, as I will swear, was richly deserved. But the law does not approve of private administration of its decrees .... Your brother —” He broke off, recognising, suddenly, that the words on his lips were a tacit accusation of Adrian Rowthornc. But the girl apparently was of a mind with him, and she whispered urgently, “Yes —Yes”

BY OTTWELL BINNS. (Author of “The Lavenham. Treasure,’ 5 “Diana of the Islands,” “The Mystery of the Atoll,” etc.)

He was forced to say something, and in the end he said it bluntly. “I think lie had better go away for a time.” “But where?” she demanded; then ho said, slowly: “I knew a man once who was accused falsely of crime! He was in grave peril of the law, and could do nothing to exonerate himself. So lie went to France and enlisted in the Foreign Legion— ’ ’ Ho checked himself as he caught the swift gleam of understanding in Ihe girl’s eyes. “Ah!” she cried: “you have been in the Legion yourself!” “Yes,” he 'answered, admitting nothing, denying nothing that her words might imply, “but that, you know, is true of many men.” “Yes. Yes,” she replied quickly, a swift, uneasy flush banishing the pallor of her face for a moment. “Forgive me. It was stupid of me to jump to a conclusion so silly.” “No!” he interrupted, following a sudden impulse. “You chance to be right. I was speaking of myself, and it was Arthur Studholme who drove me to the Legion. Some time I will tell you the whole story. But just now we must think of your brother.” For a second or two ho stood in thought, then something occurred to him. “Your brother was to have gone to Pondicherry Lodge to-night,” you said. “Tell me, did he send Studholme a message?” “I —I do not know. It was Studholme who told me he expected Adrian. Why do you ask?” “Because someone did send a message, I fancy—someone of whom he was afraid. Anyway he summoned two of his associates to confer with him. That much I gathered from the men themselves at Pondicherry Lodge.” “You saw them?” she cried in surprise. “Talked —” “No. I overheard them. And there was certainly some man of whom Studholme was most deadly afraid. As were the other two, also.” “Adrian —” she began, broke off, and began again. “He —he almost hated Arthur Studholme, and two others who were with him. Studholme was not; a good man, you know. He had 1 Adrian in—in his power; made him do things he did not want to do. I cannot tell you all, but —” “No need! I know better than you, the kind of blackguard the man was. ” “But that does not make it easier. Adrian is impulsive. Oh, I do not know what to think.” Charlton was in the same quandary. The dead Studholme had told the girl that he expected her brother,, but apparently he had been undisturbed at the thought of the visit; and Adrian Rowthorne did not seem to be the kind of man to induce fear in such hard-bit-ten cases as Studholme and his associates. But here was that halting excuse; the stained hand, the sudden sobering horror to be taken into account. Further the man was obviously given to drugs, and no one could predict what a drug addict might do. Anything was possible and—• His thought was uncompleted when the door across the room opened, and the man of whom he was thinking reappeared. He had changed, washed, and generally spruced himself, and though his face was ghastly and his eyes gleamed with wild, dancing lights, he was obviously more his own man than he had been when he entered the flat. He did not look at Charlton, but went straight to his sister. “ —Bye, Bobbie —I’m going. I won’t tell you where. One of these days I’ll write. ’ ’

The girl looked at him beseechingly. “Adian! you—you didn’t —” He made a gesture of bewilderment. “God knows! I don’t. Something happened to-night. That foul woman, Queenie —” He left it there and moved fctiffly to tlie door. Bobbie Rowthorne did not try to hinder his going. She knew, as Charlton knew, that he was in flight—flight dictated by formless fears, un supported by any clear memory of events, but which were very real. As the door closed behind him, the girl gave a little cry. “Oh, it is terrible —not to know the truth!” “Yes,” agreed Charlton, then spoke tersely. “But you must think of yourself, Miss Bobbie. If the police trace you —you must tell the simple truth.” “But if they trace you and not me > y / Charlton laughed harshly. “Then I assure you they will never hear of you from me.” Bobbie Rowthorne looked at him with glowing eyes that sent the blood spinning to his head. “You will take that risk—for me?” “That and a thousand others,” he answered with a fervour which made her face grow suddenly warm. “But —” she began protestingly, only to be interrupted. “There is no ‘but.’ You must not appear in this. It must not be known that you went to Pondicherry Lodge. That some young lady went—will I think be bound to become known. But •that the visitor was you—is not known, and I shall keep the secret.” • “You—you are very generoils—” “Generous!” he cried' fervently moved by the soft light in her eyes. ‘ 1 There is nothing that I would not do to serve you! You must know that. And the reason—” He broke off sharply, and the soft glow in the girl’s blue eyes was eccentuated. “Yes,” she answered simply. “Yes!” Then she said in a speculative voice: “That woman whom Adrian mentioned —Queenie, wasn’t the name?—do you know her?” Know her? The question was like a blow in the solar plexus. For a moment he was all abroad'—knocked out. There was a sudden blank look on his face, then lie spoke harshly. “The worst woman in London, I will swear. I know—er—a little of her. It is unfortunate for your brother that he should have known her.” He broke off, and changed the subject abruptly. “But we must think what to do whilst there is time.” He looked round and his eyes rested on the suitcase. “You were going away?” ho asked. (To be Continued),