THE Man From Montevideo

Waikato Times, Volume 96, Issue 15360, 8 October 1923, Page 3

THE Man From Montevideo

BY T. C. BRIDGES. Author'of "Whoso. Sheddeth," "The Price of Liberty," "The Home of Her Fathers," etc., etc. (Copyright).

(PUBLISHED BY ARRANGEMENT)

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. CHAPTERS I TO lII.—As a fog Is coming- on Peter Carr elves up Ashing:. On the main road he hears a girl's voice calling for help. He comes across a girl In the hands of a burly ruman, whose clothes bear the Imprint or the broad arrow. Peter goes for the man, and there Is a fight, in which both are badly damaged, but the man crocks up. The girl attends to Peter, and takes him to her own home. Her name is Joyce Lovell, and she lives at Otter's Holt. Peter is introduced to Joyce's brother, Jasper, who is lame, and who takes to Peter at once. He goes off to organise the capture of the escaped convict. Joyce's father is scandalised by the happening. Jasper returns to say that the convict has escaped yet again. Peter Carr passes a happy fortnight In Joyce's home, convalescing. A letter comes from his uncle, Sir Anthony Carr, to say that there is a now claimant to the estate, In the person or a son of David Carr, the elder brother or Sir Anthony, who had died abroad. Peter returns to London to find his uncle, Sir Anthony, lying on the bedroom floor, murdered.

said Mr Calvert. "I want a talk with you. Here is a taxi. We "will drive." i

"I think I know what you were going to say," continued the soliciter after they had taken their seats in the taxi. "You were going to suggest that this new claimant had something to do with the murder?"

"That was it," Peter answered. "I don't think so," Calvert told him. "I don't think so for a moment. Not only would there be no possible object in such a crime, but you only have to see Tudor Carr to feel certain that he is incapable of anything of the kind." "What sort of man is he?" asked Peter with interest.

CHAPTER V. No Light on the Mystery. "The murder was committed between two and three hours ago. Death wa s caused by one blow on the head. It must have been delivered with tremendous force for the skull is completely crushed." Such was the verdict of Police Surgeon Hodgetts as he rose from beside the corpse. Gurtin, the tall Inspector, nodded. He turned to Peter. '"Where is the valet, Mr Carr — Scrutton I believe you called him?"

"You shall see for yourself. I made an appointment with him for half past twelve. He should be at my office by the time we arrive." "What about his proofs?" questioned Peter. Mr Calvert looked grave. "I had better be quite straight with you, Mr Carr. We have submitted them to Mr Sterne, the handwriting expert, and he pronounces them genuine. There is no better authority than he."

Peter drew a long breath but did not speak. There pvas, sympathy in the lawyer's eyes as he glanced at the younger man.

'We can fight.lf you wish," he said.

"In the kitchen," Peter answered. "He seems to have been chloroformed. I could not rouse him." He led the way, and Curtin and Hodgetts followed. Mayfleld, the sergeant, remained in the bed-room. Scrutton was still on his back on the floor, but he seemed to be breathing more easily. The air in the" room was fresher.

Hodgetts set to work at once, and using some strong restorative soon brought him round. Presently he was sitting on a chair, and answering Curtin's questions.

Peter shrugged his shoulders. "What's the use? If the proofs are really genuine, and I see you think they are, I don't want to try and keep this cousin of mine out of what is really his. No, I shan't fight unless you advise it." "I cannot conscientiously advise it," replied the lawyer gravely. "Then we will let it go at that," said Peter, with a touch of recklessness. "By-the-bye, did my uncle leave any will?"

But it speedily became clear that he could throw no light upon the crime. He had, he said, been heating some soup for the master when all of ~a sudden a rug was thrown over his head, and a pair of arms clipped him around the body. He had struggled but his assailant was too strong for him. He had been flung to the floor. Then the man had knelt upon him and got him by the throat through the rug and choked him until he was insensible. That was all he knew.

"Yes, ho left everything to you. But the will is worthless. The claim, you see, was made before Sir Anthony's death."

"But here we are at our destination," he added, as the cab pulled up In front of a rather sombre looking house in John Street.

Curtin questioned him keenly, but got nothing more out of him. Scrutton declared, that he had not even heard the man come into the room. Not, he added, that that was anything wonderful, for his hearing was none too good. Curtin took Peter back to tho draw-ing-room, and closed both doors. "You will allow me to ask you a few questions, Mr Carr?" "Anything you like," Peter answered readily.

Mr Calvert got out, paid the drivor, and opening the door with a latch key led the way into an oak panelled passage. It was not the first time that Peter had beea inside the house. His uncle had taken him there, while still a small boy, and he well remembered the curious musty odour that seemed to haunt the solemn old house. A clerk came out from an inner room.

"Mr Tudor Carr and Mr Paul Bassett arc here, sir," he said.

"Thank you, Simms. Show them into my office, please." "Who is Mr Paul Bassett?" asked Peter in a low voice as he followed Mr Calvert into the lofty, formallooking room that was his private office.

"I understand you came up from Devonshire to-day?" "I did. I arrived at Paddington at nine and drove straight down here. I let myself in with my own key, and switched on the light. There was no one in the drawing-room so I went into the bed-room. Then I /found my—my uncle." Peter shivered slightly as he spoke. In spite of his self-control, his nerves had sufferid. "Then you rang us up?" suggested the inspector. "No. I came back towards the telephone, but suddenly thought of Scrutton, and went to look for him. It was not until I found that I could get nothing out of him that I rang you up." "Then how long was it from the time you the flat before you called the police station?" "I really don't know," Peter answered. "It might have been five minutes. It might have been ten. I never looked at the clock." Curtin nodded. He was silent a moment.

"A friend of your cousin's. A sort of bear-leader, I should imagine, if I may put it so crudely. But hush! Here they come."

Simms opened the door and two men so startlingly different from one another that Peter thought that he had never seen such an amazing contrast.

"Has anything been stolen, so fal as you know?" "Nothing. My uncle's watch and some money are on the dresslng-tabic. I do not think that anything else has oeen meddled with." "It would seem," said Curtin, "that Sir Anthony was going to bed when he was attacked?" "I cannot say. He was expecting me. I came in answer to a letter which I had from him this morning." "May I sec the letter?" Peter hesitated a moment. But he realised that, at the inquest, the whole story must come out. "Yes," he said I will show it to you." Curtin's eyes widened a little as re read Sir Anthony's loiter.

"So there is a* claim against the estate?" he said. "Apparently. But that is all I know. 1 never heard a word of it until I got that letter this morning." Curtin nodded again.

"I am much abligcd lo you, Mr Can-," lie said in his grave way. "And now I will call an ambulance, and have the body removed. There will be a preliminary inquiry to-morrow, but the inquest must be delayed until wc can make enquiries. Where shall we find you? Will you stay here?" "No." Peter's voice was sharp. "I could not possibly stay here. I shall go to Harcourt's Hotel as soon as I can get a taxi." "Very good," said Curtin. 'The sergeant shall call you and I will ring you up in the morning and tell you when and where you will be wanted."

CHAPTER VI. The Man from Montevideo. The preliminary enquiry was over, but this had been a merely formal matter. As Inspector Curtin had said, the inquest was delayed until enquiries could be made. At present there was not the faintest clue cither to the murderer or the cause of the murder. As Peter was leaving, a quiet, middle-aged man met him. "Good morning, Mr Carr," he said gravely. "This is a very terrible business." Peter, who had been wrapped in his own thoughts, started slightly. Then he quickly put out his hand. "Good morning, Mr Calvert. I did not even know you were here. Yes, it's a horrible thing altogether, and for the life of me I can't imagine who can have done it. I was wondering —" He paused. "Wc can't talk here," he said abruptly, "too many people." "Gome back with me to tlie office."

The first was not more than five foot three in height. He had a small pale face, a little fair moustache, watery blue eyes and an uncertain manner. The second was well over six feet, broad-shouldered, dark, with a face as strong as the other's was weak. Peter had an impression of very dark eyes deep-set on either side of a jutting nose, of a tight-lipped mouth under a close-cropped dark moustache, and of a chin like the toe of a boot. The little man was badly dressed in a light suit, with patent boots, yellow gloves, and a blue tie; the big man, on the contrary, was perfectly groomed, and wore his clothes like one accustomed to patronise a good tailor, and not to cavil at their cost. Before Peter could collect his ideas Mr Calvert was introducing the newcomers.