The Fulham Mystery

Waikato Times, Volume 106, Issue 17803, 30 August 1929, Page 4

The Fulham Mystery

SYNOPSIS. DR. JOSEPH BLOND, a young doctor, unable to purchase a practice, “pitches” at P-ulham. One foggy night he is visited by a mysterious woman, who asks him what amount of belladonna constitutes a fatal dose. Just as the doctor is explaining that he cannot answer such an irregular question the telephone bell rings. Dr. Blond hears a voice asking him to call at 48, the rest of the address being lost in the noise of a struggle at the other end of the line. There is a shriek, then the click of the telephone receiver being replaced. Startled, the doctor turns to apologise to his mysterious visitor, only to find that she has vanished. He then discovers that he cannot get into touch with the telephone exchange. After a stiff whisky and soda he falls asleep. Finding early next morning that his telephone is in order, he rings up for the police. Later, on going to his bedroom, he finds the mysterious woman, her face bloodless and disorted, lying across his bed. The woman Is dead. A policeman arrives, and after taking notes asks the doctor to accompany him to the police station. On the stairs they meet MRS TREGOLD, the charwoman. A little way from the house the constable decided he ought not to have quitted it. When he and the doctor reach the consulting-room again they find that the charwoman has had a stroke; while the body of the dead woman has vanished. Baffled, the police retire. Blond summons his friend, DR. GRIERSON, who is making investigations when he learns that Blond has been decoyed from the house by a false telephone message. CHAPTER 13.

Cyril Misses His Man.

Something in Inspector Gorst’s manner of speaking frightened Grierson. In the last few hours the rapid working of his brain on the intellectual problems of this extraordinary case had prevented his giving very much play to emotions. As a result of a sudden inspiration while he . was examining the man whom he regarded as a bogus patient he believed he had succeeded in reconstructing an important part of last Saturday’s happenings, and he felt something of the pure joy of the scientist cohibined with the 'thrill of the chase. But all the time his friend was perhaps in peril, and the Inspector’s reference to a message he had received brought this home to him with new force.

While they were speaking a constable came in and handed the officer a report. He glanced at it for a moment and then turned to Grierson. “This has nothing to do with our friend, Dr. Blond,” he said. “It was a report that looked rather nasty, but it looks quite an ordinary case now. Anyhow it doesn’t touch this affair in any way. Now tell me how the doctor has disappeared and why you suspect foul play.” Grierson related the events since lunchtime without divulging the theories which had formed in his own mind or repeating anything Rawlings had said regarding his apparent anxiety to know where Dr. Blond was.

The Inspector heard him for the most part in silence, only asking a question now and then which indicated to Grierson that he was inclined to frown upon these amateur investigators, though he was far too good a police officer to throw away anything of solid value that they might yield. “Somebody," he said at the end, “knew that you were interested in the case and that Dr. Blond could be drawn away by a message from you without any particulars. I suppose the maid is quite reliable?” “Blond was quite convinced that she was, and so far as I can judge he was right.” “Then somebody must have seen you in the public house and guessed why you were there.” “By Jove I” said Grierson with a sudden inspiration “of course that’s where I saw Rawlings. I remember, now, too, that he entered the place a very little while after I did. I thought the" face was familiar when he came into the consulting room.” “We must find out something about Rawlings,” said the Inspector. “Excuse me a moment.”' He went out of the room, returning soon after to say that he was having inquiries made about Rawlings and the length of time he had been in the district.

“Meanwhile,” said Grierson, “you can take it for certain that my brother will keep a close watch on his movements.”

Inspector Gorst passed this without comment.

There seemed nothing more to be said or done at the moment, and the two men stood talking about other things until a constable entered with a piece of paper. “Very interesting 1” commented the Inspector, reading it. "Rawlings is a newcomer. Has been there only a couple of weeks. Nobody in the street knows anything about him. He has a couple of rooms. Last Friday he had a woman visitor, a small rather pretty woman.” "How do you know all this so soon? asked Grierson. “We know everything," was the laconic reply. “It’s our jobs. Your brother,” he added quickly, “is still watching the house." Grierson went out of the police station with an enhanced respect for the force and its methods but anxiety for his friend was now taking a larger share of his thoughts. Recent experiences had been exhausting and like all highly strung people he was inclined when tired to be worried ; and apprehensive. Poor Blond appeared to.be in a terrible web of mystery. More than once Grierson asked himself whether Blond had told [him all the truth, whether there was some undisclosed affiair with the I inevitable woman in it. 1 He decided that nothing would be I gained by trying to torture the problem I any more to-night. Sleep was necessary, and as he suspected it might be difficult to get, he gave himself a dose I of a hypnotic drug and retired for the night. Cyril Grierson meanwhile was less j fortunate. From the time that he rej lieved the maid in view of Rawlings’ i house nothing happened. People went |i n a nd out of neighbouring houses, but i the door of this one remained closed. | By midnight the likelihood of any bod; i coming out had become very slight ! Cyril, however, was taking no risks One of the most valuable of his giftwas an extraordinary power of dispensing with sleep. He would keep going for a period that seemed lo mo.->i people to be., beyend the power of oilman endurance, and then made up for it by sdleeping like a log ‘Toun . the clock."

He regarded with comparative

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By HILDA HINE.

cheerfulness, therefore, the prospect of watching through the night, fortified with some sweet biscuits with which he had stuffed his pockets. The night policeman, who understood what was afoot, suggested a respite, but as he could not himself promise to keep the house in view all the time, Cyril declined it with thanks. It was early jn the following afternoon when the front door opened and a man whom Cyril had no difficulty in Identifying as Rawlings emerged. He turned rapidly to the right and made for the main road, Cyril following him at a short distance. Here an-incident occurred which upset the latter’s calculations, for an omnibus was just leaving the corner going eastward, and Rawlings ran forward and mounted it. Cyril made an attempt to follow suit, but the conductor was deaf to his entreaties and the vehicle was going too fast to overtake. He looked round in despair, but there was no other eastbound ’bus in sight, and no taxi cabs anywhere in view.

He stamped impatiently on the pavement, cursing his luck. If another ’bus had come along soon it would have been worth while going off in pursuit on the chance of the first one being held up. Five minutes passed with no sign of one, and he decided the odds were too heavy against the chance being worth while. He had lost the first round through sheer unadulterated bad luck. However lie held very strongly that if you go on looking at anything long enough you are bound to discover something useful, and he told himself that the harm done was not irremediable.

The chances were all against an immediate return of the mysterious Mr. Rawlings, so Cyril decided to go back to the surgery and report his Initial failure.

Dr. Grierson had spent the morning doing nothing, always an irksome condition to his active temperament. "You had better have a rest and sleep, and then go back again,” was his comment after hearing his brother’s story. “Very well. I’ll allow myself three hours’ nap and while I’m feeding you shall tell me what this is all about.” So while Cyril refreshed himself with two poached eggs and several cups of tea the doctor plunged once more into the amazing tale, a tale which, as he remarked, seemed more improbable every time it was repeated. 11c added the latest information he had received from the police about Rawlings. , “I suppose we may take it,’ said Cyril, “that the lady who called on Rawlings on Friday is the one who called here on Saturday.” “That seems likely.”

“Well, as it’s unlikely that the lady if she’s ’alive will come here to him I suppose it is probable that he will go at some time or other to her. Anyhow, we’ll watch him.”

Three hours’ sleep refreshed the Young man considerably, and he announced his intention of returning to his vigil. “I shall first find out whether he’s at home,” he explained, “by the simple expedient of knocking at the door and asking.” “But suppose he is?” “Then he will prove to be the wrong Mr. Rawlings.” “Yes,” said Dr. Grierson slowly, “I think that is right. It will make him suspicious if he’s there, but that won't be a bad thing. There’s a tendency to overdo the idea of not alarming culprits,” the doctor went on speaking, rather to himself than to Cyril. “They never have a sense of security in any case and there’s a natural law very useful to society by which a criminal is bound to make a fool of himself sooner or later. The more you frighten him the more likely he is to do that and to give the game away.” “What evidence is there?” asked Cyril, “that the unfortunate Mr. Rawlings is a criminal at all?” “There is none," admitted his brother, “but,” he added, neither is there any doubt.” “What do you mean by that, my learned friend?"

“I mean that Rawlings believed or did believe that he murdered a woman in this house. He came here partly perhaps to find out if Blond was missing, but certainly because he is mystified about what happened to the woman."

“But you must know something that you haven’t told me for there is nothing to justify that opinion." “I have told you all the facts. As far as legal evidence goes there’s not a shred of it to justify what I have told you. I wouldn’t waste my time in mentioning it to a lawyer or a police officer. y “I expect you are right,” said Cyril; “you usually arc, but your theories seem lo me to get madder every time I meet you.” The doctor laughed, indulgently. “Medicine is a very good school, my boy,” he remarked, “and I’ll tell you one' of its lessons. When a disease has got to the point of being detected —diagnosed, as we say— its got past the point of being cured. What the really big doctor says is: ‘That’s going to be a cause of cancer or consumption or kidney disease if we don’t stop it.’ The little man says: ‘where’s your evidence?’ ” “This means that you are guessing, I suppose,” retorted Cyril. “Yes if you like, but nobody knows what guessing means. Its probably an unconscious action of the mind. Modern science teaches us that only a part of our mental processes go on in the open, and the rest arc below the surface ’ Inspector Gorst and his kind can o-Q on looking, but they don’t know what they are taking for. I know what I am after.” “Well, I’m after Rawlings,’ said Cyril. “You’re a genius, brudderkins; in other words, you're as mad as they make ’em. So tang! (To be continued to-morrow.)