The Half-Closed Door

Waikato Times, Volume 97, Issue 15230, 5 May 1923, Page 12 (Supplement)

The Half-Closed Door

J.BJHarm-3arland.

THE STORYTELLER

COPYRIGHT.

".",.. CHAPTER XET/—(Continued.) Richard Pelling was too old a spl"dier to make a fool of ftimself. It •would have been easy enough, to have cried out, struggled with the unknown enemy that had gripped him by the wrist, and have roused his landlady. But it would have been obviously ridiculous to do anything of the sort. A man who "has a secret to hide cannot do that kind of thing. And in a

. ...struggle he might easily have got the .;;;, .worst of it, even if his opponent were :',!'■ armed The grip was that of a u~ strong man, who had all the advantage of the position. "If you call out,"- the- man whispered, "I'll' just wipe you over the -:: head, and that'll be an end of your ■■ ■;." little story. I don't want to hurl you. just got to come along quietly." ~.-.■-■.•• •.*Tm not a child," Pelling replied. "I suppose you're Sam Felton." "No—Peter Woolf. And I've a gun

>,,,iin my pocket. But I don't want to ,\,i,hurt you, my lad. It's just this. ~,;,We're in a bit of a hurry, and 'we've got to fix up a deal with you before we clear out." "We can fix it up here—right -away." '■"".. "No, we can't. The others have ".. got to have a say in it. You dress ~.. and come right along." ',',', Peter Woolf closed the window, , , drew down the blind, and struck a "" "light.

"Look sharp," he said. "We've got a long way to go to,-night. And don't get it into your head that you can hand me over to the first man you meet. There's a letter written and the envelope's stamped, and if I don't return with you up to time, it's ,going to be posted to. Scotland Yard." Pelling shrugged his shoulders and put on his clothes, He talked freely. The storm had burst overhead, and the noise of the thunder and the wind and the pouring rain would have drowned the voices of a dozen men. "A nice night for a trip," he said, "arid my overcoat isn't exactly waterproof. How did you get in " "■Oh, there's a dustbin under the window. Ready, are you?" "Yes, but I'd like to know where I'm going." "Into the sitting-room to start with. You've got to write a letter. Lead the way." Pelling knew a dozen tricks by which he could have got the better of this scoundrel in a stand-up light. But the worst of it was he could not fight. It was not just a question of smashing up Peter Woolf. "Scribble out in pencil on a sheet of paper," said Peter Woolf when they were in the sitting-room, "just a few lines to your landlady, saying that you have been suddenly called away on business, and will be back in a day or two. What time does she go to bed?" ' "About half-past nine." j "Well, put 'lO p.m.' at the tap of it. Hurry up." Dick Pelling wrote the letter and ■ smiled grimly as he put the time to it. There was one person at any rate 'who would know that he had not left the house at 10 o'clock. , That might come in useful if these brutes murdered him. He signed his name and looked up •at Peter Woolf. "Supposing I reJose to come?" he said. • "Oft, then the letter will be ptfsted -;to Scotland Yard. You can't hurt ; us, my boy, we're all right. Lead the way. You won't get very wet." - r They left the house*; and strolled down the street together arm in arm. ■ At the corner of the road a big car was waiting,. Peter Woolf opened the 'door. "It's snug enough inside," he -v said.

They seated themselves, and the ;car crossed the Fulham Road. "I'm afraid I must bandage your :',.eyes," said Peter Woolf, "for a little ■ -while at any rate. Do you mind?" -....-" Not in the least " laughed Richard •■iPelling and then, after a pause, "By Jove, Peter, I didn't think you could , xun <to a line car like this. Who's ~ .driving?" ".' "A very careful driver," Peter

- 'Woolf replied. Half an/hour later, when the baridi -age had" been taken from Dick-Poll- !>. ing's eyes, there were no lighted streets —no sheet of rain athwart ■„ , lamps and glittering pavements. Save ~-. 'for the fan of light thrown ahead by the car, it was a world of darkness. storm Still growled and rattled overhead, and there was an occasional 'flash of lightning. But it showed notMng save a patch of dull brown road and hedges on either side. "You.had better sit with your back to the engine," said Peter .Woolf. "It will make me sick!" "Then it must make you ssck," Peter replied curtly. "Come along. Look sharp."

Dick Pelling moved his position

...,'and. now he could sec nothing at all-"j ~,/He asked permission to smoke, and lit ■a cigarette. His hands did not trem'ble.. This was an adventure after "his own heart. The vague conflict

"-' 'of -Intrigue was over, and he was hear '?'W'tha Anal battlefield. The hunters were being 'hunted in their turn, and they would have no time to waste in talking. As'likely as not it would "'come to a fight for life itself. When '"they found he could no longer be of '"any use to them, and there was no- " .'thing to be squeezed out of them, they "/'would try and put him out of the 7way. Though he could give'no definite evidence against them he was a • possible source of danger. Hour after hour the car rushed ' through the darkness, and it seemed 'to Pelling as though the storm were "being left behind them. The rain poured down incessantly, but the thunder had died away in the distance, and the lightning was no more than a feeble reflection in the sky. He lit cigarette aTler cigarette, and the light of the match showed Peter Woolf in the opposite corner wilh an automatic pistol on his knee. A ■ swift movement and a struggle and Peter Woolf might get the worst of it. But the lime for violence had not yet come. That would have to be a last resort and only to save his own life. The gang still held the winning cards. Dick Pelling did not know where he was going, nor did he very much -care. He might have been going east -or west or south or north. In all probability he was being taken to the teast or south coast—some Doint from

Author of "The Black Moon," "The - -Poison League,"," The White '_ Rook," 4c, 4c.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARitANGEKEWT.

which the others intended to escape by sea from England. The absence of great ridges of hill, like the Downs, rather pointed to the east coast. At last the car came to a standstill, and the bandage was again fastened across Pelling's eyes.

"You have nothing to fear," said Peter Woolf, : "but. we do not wish you to recognise the house again." ""■Of course not," said Pelting with a laugh. "Besides, you must do the thing properly —in the good old-fash-ioned style,"

He alighted from the car and counted his steps as he was led forward. Six steps and they passed through a gate which swung to behind them. Twenty-five; steps with wet shrubs brushing against his hand, and his feet on a gravel path. "Doorstep," said Peter Woolf warningly. Then there was the opening ■of a door, and a short passage floored with stone. Dick Pelling noted the smallest details. Put together they might enable him to find the house again.

They paused, and Woolf knocked on a door. A few seconds later a bolt was shot back, and a cold draught of air struck Pelling in the face. "Twelve steps down," said Woolf. "Go carefully." *

They reached the bottom of the staircase, arm in arm. Pelling heard the sound of the bolt being shot back in the lock, i Then the bandage was taken from his eyes.

He found himself iri what appeared to be a cellar. It was about 14 feet square,' and'the furniture consisted of two old benches, some casks, straw, and several empty wine bins. One of them had been made into a kind of table. Two candles stuck into bottles burnt with a feeble yellow glow. The air was cold and stuffy. There appeared to be no window. The walls were of stone and dripped with moisture. It was a wretched hiding place '.even for a hunted man. Jim, who had bolted the door, and followed them down the stairs, was a horrible object with his white face, and a week's growth, of beard. "Hello, Jiml" said Peter cheerfully. "Nice old dug-out this, isn't it?" Jim did not answer; he looked at Peter Woolf with hungry eyes. ."Got food?", he muttered. "Croad's bringing it down." "Ain't Croad with you?" "j\'o—he didn't turn up; he'll get down later on." <

Jjin qave a growl like a wild beast. ".tty well starved, I am," he aaia ''Dry bread and water —that's wot I've 'ad. You done yourselves pretty well in town, I'll lay.' "I was only teasing you, Jim. We've brought the food." "And drink, eh? I could do with a good drink." Peter Woolf shook his head. "Couldn't get a drop," he replied. Jim swore an oath and seated himself on a small upturned cask. "D—n Sam Felton!" he said. "Why don't he hurry up?" "He's putting the car In the stables —or the ruins of 'em. He'll be round in a minute. Tie up the Boy's hands, will you? He's got a nasty look in his eye." "Oh come, I say," laughed Pelling. "I''cannot hurt you. And I don't want to hurt you. I've come here to talk matters over." "Tie up his hands," said Peter Wolf, "and give him a cask to* sit on. He's' our .guest and he shall have the best we can give him." Dick Pelling offered no resistance. Jim tied his hands behind his back with a piece of thin rope, and turned up a cask. "A nice little place you've got," said Pellins, as he seated himself. "To let," laughed Peter Woolf. "You'd see that on the board outside. But no one will ever lake it until the landlord, spends about a thousand pounds in repairs."

"Can I smoke" "No—we can't none of us smoke," growled Jim. "We'd' choke to death if we did. Those as wants to smoke 'ave got to go outside." He turned to Peter Woolf. "Sure Croad's coming down?" he queried. "y es —4 reckon he'll be down. If he don't come he'll be left behind." "Why-havVyou-brought me here?" said Pelling sharply. "We want a nice talk with you," Woolf replied, "and, as you know, we can't walk about London just now." "Well, I'll have to make terms with you. And you're talking as if I were an enemy."

Jim laughed, took a clasp knife from his pocket, and cut a piece off a loaf of dry bread. "Wait, Jim, old boy," said Peter Woolf. "There's better than that coming. Cold sausages and a nice ham and new bread, and some tinned stuff."

i There was a knock on the door at the top of the stairs, and Jim went Lo open the door, two steps at a stride. ;

"He's hungry," laughed Peter Woolf.' '"I don't suppose you've ever known what it is to be hungry." Sam -Felton came down into the eelpar, carrying a large basket on his arm.

, "Good evening, Boy!" he said. "Sorry to have to bring you down here. But you'll -understand." ■Jim pounced upon the basket and began to cat greedily. , The others laughed at him. . They had had a good meal in London—the first proper, meal for more than a week. "Easy on there, Jim!" said Sam Felton, a few minutes later. "That's got to last all of us for a good while." Jirn drank deeply from a bottle of water, and made a wry face.

"■l'd give all that fodder," he said, "for a drop of whisky—now then to business. You do the speaking, Sam."

CHAPTER XX. Sam Felton seated himself on a wine bin. . "It's like this, Roy," he said. "The situation lias changed since we last met. Trillick has identified me and Peter Wool'f. Jim's safe enough, but he's in. with us and he's going to stick to us. I don't say we haven't, made a mistake about Jim. He ought to have stood his ground, and no one could have touched him. But he's in with m now, and you're in with us. You got that?" "Of course," Snighed Dick Pelling. "And you'm afi sick because you've

got all the blame and none of the diamonds. Well, I'm going to put you on to the man who has the diamonds. But I'm not going to do it until I know I'm safe."

"Safe?" queried Peter Woolf: "Yes, from you chaps. I don't like the look of you to-night."

"Not quite tidy, perhaps," sugiyes';ed Woolf. "We've had a rough time. We don't look like gentlemen."

"It's your actions I don't like," Pelling continued. "All this melodrama, and there's not even a cinema operator tu take the pictures." "The fox," said Felton, slowly, "seeks the nearest hole when it is hunted. Boy, we don't believe this yarn of yours about the diamonds. We've talked it over, and we've come to the conclusion that you've fooled us. We can't look on you as a pal. And you know too much. You've just got to quit." "Quit?" queried Pelling. " Aye—peg out —unless you can hand us over those diamonds." Dick Pelling had been in many a tight corner, but never in one which offered so small a chance of escape. But he was going to fight—up to the last minute.

"Do you think I've got 'em in my pocket?" he said. "I came here to tell you where you could 1 find them." The three men looked at each other. Sam Felton and Peter Woolf moved away into a corner and whispered to each other. Jim regarded Pelling with a sullen scowl of hatred. "You don't like me, Jim, eh?" said Pelling.

Jim laughed. "You think Susie Croad's in love with you," he said in a low voice. "But don't you reckon on her getting you out of this. She 'ates you like poison—just because you're married—l knows all about it. You think she's been tryin' to keep our 'ands off your throat. And all the time she's been setting us on to you —like a man would set dogs on a badger." "Oh, you're quite foolish about Susie," said Pelling, with a smile, and he called out to Sam Felton: "Look here,, Sam," he said, "you're an honest fellow in your way. Jim's just been telling me that Susie's been in this all the time. And she told me herself that she was doing all she could to stop this nonsense of yours." Peter Woolf laughed out loud. Sam Felton did not smile. "Susie had to look after herself," he said quietly. "If-you'd known she was with us all the time, you'O. have put the police on to her." "You're a liar I" shouted Pelling. "I'd trust Susie aa I'd trust my own wife." '

Sam Felton took a letter from his pocket, opened it out, and held it before Dick Pelling's. eyes. There were only a few words in the letter, but the instructions were quite explicit. He, Dick Pelling, was to.be forced to give up the diamonds, and if he failed to do so, the police were to be put on his track. Richard Pelling's eyes were dimmed with;a red mist, and all the colour left his face. This had hit him more hardly than any of the events of that night—that he should have allowed himself to be fooled by Susan Croad, and that he should have struck at his own wife in defence of a worthless woman. "It doesn't matter your knowin' now," snarled Jim, shaking his fist in Pelling's face. "You won't never git a chance to give our Susie away." "Stop it, Jimmiel" said Sam Felton curtly. "You talk too much." i The mists cleared from Dick Pelling's eyes, and he saw the room quite clearly again. Jim's brutal words had had' the effect of a shower of oold water on the flames of Pelling's fury. His mind was alert and active once more. These brutes meant to kill him. Well, he would have to be very cunning. Nothing would happen until Croad arrived. Pelling's mind moved very quickly, as tbe three men talked together about their plans of escape. He did not listen to them. He had other matters to think about.

A few moments later there was the crash of a heavy fist on the door at the top of the stairs. Sam Felton hurried up the steps to open it. "Be careful, sir," he said. "Take my arm, sir." '"A dirty hole," growled Croad, "a nice place to bring me to. God knows if I'll ever get up the stairs again." The enormous legs came into view, then the body, and lastly the huge, bearded face. Dick Pelling scanned it narrowly. And then suddenly he wondered why Croad had come to this place at all. No danger threatened Croad, unless one of the gang betrayed him. )

"Unless one of the gang betrays him," said Dick Pelling to himself, and he let that idea sink into his mind. Then he smiled as Croad said, "Hello, young chap. Brought those diamonds for us to play with, eh?"' "I know where they are," Pelling replied. "Good," growled Croad. "Good." He seated himself on a wine bin that creaked and sagged under his huge weight. Then he thrust his hand in his enormous coat pocket and took out a bottle of whisky. Jim gave a cry of joy and stretched out a grimy hand. "I ain't touched a drop, guvnor," he said —"not for a bloomin' fortnight, I ain't. I'd give all the diamonds in the world for that there bottle, guvnor." "If they would only get drunk," thought Dick Pelling, "I'd have a chance."

But hope died away as he looked at Croad's face. Croad was not the sort of man to allow anyone- to get drunk when there was work to be done.

"Stand offj" said Croad sharply, and there was a curious look in his eyes. For the next few moments, as the men talked about the smack that they were going to commandeer for their escape, Dick Pelling studied that massive face carefully—as steadily and as carefully as a man lost In unknown seas studies the chart and the compass, and the stars above his head. And again and again he wondered why Croad had taken the trouble to come down to this remote part of the world. Certainly there was ■ something odd about Croad —the slowness of his voice and that curious expression in his eyes when he glanced at the others and believed himself unobserved.

For a little while the men talked in whispers, and Pelling could not hear a word they were saying Then Jim laughed, and picked up the bottle of whisky, and pushed in the cork with his powerful thumb. Sam Felton turned to Pelling. "Well, who has got the diamonds?" he queried. Pulling smiled. "One you heroes," he said. "You think I don't know? Well,, I didn't, hut now I do." .

There was a shout of angry voices. But Croad did not speak. He poured some of the whisky into a large empty jam jar, and filled up the jar with water. A dozen questions were asked, but Pelling answered none of them. The clamour of sound died away into silence. He had made his plans—the last defence of the weak—the hope of dissension in tn*e camp of his enemies. "Arthur Croad has the diamonds," he said. "I don't suppose lie's

brought them with him, but be knows where they arc." The three men turned and looked at Croad.

"We'd better do him in now, guvnor," said Jim. "'Avin' a joke with us 'e is."

But neither Sam Felton nor Peter Woolf spoke. The poison of the arrow was in their blood. They knew tvell enough fthat Dick Pelling had been an intimate friend of Susan Croad. There was just a chance that this extraordinary statement was not a lie. '* "What answer have you to make to that, sir?" said Pelling.

Croad laughed. His huge body] shook with laughter like a jelly. He thrust his hand in his pocket, took out a chamois leather bag and, tilting it upside down, poured out the contents on the "table." There was a tiny> shower of light—white, blue and red fire of a most amazing brilliancy. The diamonds twinkled on the wood and rolled towards the edge of the wine bin. Two or three fell on the floor. "The Boy," said Croad, slowly, "is one of those who'd back a hundred to one chance, and pull it off. He knew nothing about the diamonds. I myself didn't know till jjesterday. He thought he'd just make bad blood between us. And I came down here to share out—like a gentleman." "My Gawd!" muttered Jim. But Felton and Woolf looked at Croad with a question in their eyes. Croad stretched out his great hand and drew the diamonds togpther into a little heap. "Bit of luck, boys," he said. "I reckon you'll never guess who took these diamonds out of the safe." "Trlilick," said Peter Woolf. "Our friend here," said Sam Felton, pointing at Dick Pelling. "A bloomin' ghost I" snarled Jim.

Arthur Croad laughed. "You wouldn't guess if I lave you a dozen tries apiece," he said. "Olu Sir William ' Blindon took them. He's an absent-minded old fellow, and he must have slipped them into his pocket without thinking about it, and have locked up the safe." . ■ "I believe you're right," said Dick Pelling, anxious to get on good terms with Croad. "I was in the office the day before you Chaps broke open the safe. H e took out the bag of stones, and gave me one—a very little one—worth five pounds perhaps." i Arthur Croad beamed at Pelling. "It very likely happened then," he said.

"And how did they come to you?" said Peter Woolf, coldly. "Sir William's valeT found tbe diamonds in his master's coat pocket. The temptation was a bit too much for him. He held on to them." "But how did you know he'd got them?" queried Sam Felton. "He tried to sell one of them to me in Paris. I bluffed him until he was nearly dead of fright. We came to terms. He's kept a quarter of the stones. There arc the rest." Peter Woolf stirred the little heap of- glittering stones with his finger. Jim Leader and Sam (Felton watched the play of light, and their eyes glittered. Only Richard Pelling looked steadily at Croad's face.

The mouth was set in a hideous grin. ''Here's luck to all of us,' said Croad, and gripping the jar of fluid with both his hands, he drank, and set it down on the table. (To be continued next Saturday.)