Vampire of the Skies

Waikato Times, Volume 113, Issue 18928, 24 April 1933, Page 11

Vampire of the Skies

By JAMES CORBETT.

CHAPTER IVX, (Continued). "You ought to be at the Yard, Murray,”' Caere commented, I think you have acted with wonderful intelligence. Now what time did our elusive Major return to his residence? “About twenty minutes ago, Mr Caere.” “Splendid fellow. . Well, that is exactly the information I want, Murray, and let us bo pc be bas brought his insurance card. Just keep the place under observation, but the next time try and find out where be goes and for that purpose you had better have a car bandy. I am obliged for your vigilance in the matter. I shan’t forget." “There’s another message from Captain Holmes, sir." “Let’s have it."

•He wants me to say that the plane Is ready for your service. It reached Cottlngdale at four o’clock yesterday afternoon, and has been lodged In a big empty shed belonging to a farmhouse. You will 'find the plaoe only two minutes away from the station. "Good for Holmes. Give him my kind regards, 'Murray, and tell him to have the engine in the plnlc of condition. I may want it .at any moment. And I say, my best love to P. C. Gutteridge." . lie returned to Lena and gave her •the news about Hardy.

She turned pale. The tidings left 'her breathless. Was Hardy really the murderer? “Now don’t go into a panic over the gentleman," Dacre counselled. “Leav6 him in my care, and don’t forget you may have that big scoop at any moment. Allow me to compliment you on your Sentinel articles. I think you are in for promotion and a month’s holiday. That description of ‘Gutteridge will go into the British Museum. I only wish Arnold 'Bennett bad lived to read it. He would have chuckled over It for a year.” Lena tried to smile. This airplane business was getting on her nerves.

Perhaps a nip of brandy would be really beneficial. Dacre left the hotel after breakfast but returned in thirty minutes. He went straight to Mr Marcel Dupont, the hotel manager. •His face was quite grave. There was a stern line round bis lips.

“Mr Dupont," be said gravely, “I understand that Sir Robert Anderson, tire well-known London financier, is •staying in this hotel. I wish to see him. very urgently. Would you" mind finding out if he is in the building?” Dupont did not wait a second. He fiew away to bis (assistant lat the desk, and returned at once to the detective.

“Yes, Mr Dacre," be said swiftly, “Sir Robert is writing letters in bis own room.” “What room is that?" “ No. 5 suite on the second landing. Shall I take you to him?" “If you please, Dupont. I don't want to drag him down In the lift, for I have some really bad news, and be is bound to be upset.” The manager rushed the Yard man up In the elevator. Dacre followed the waiter to the door of the hotel.

Inspector Murray stood there with his hand at the salute. “I have come to make a special report, sir," he began. “Have just rushed in from Cottingdale on my motor cycle, but I knew there was not a second to be lost, and I rode like the devil ” “Go straight ahead, Murray." “Well, sir, we have been watching every corner of Mountdale, as you instructed, and have kept the place under observation since you left." “Quite right, Murray. And what happened?” “I have just discovered, sir, that a car left there forty minutes ago, and Constable Stevens allowed it to pass unchallenged, for it only contained a woman passenger.” “Ah I”

“But after he made his report to me, Mr Uacre, I got a bit suspicious like, and it occurred to me that the woman might be Major Hardy disguised. Then I rang up Mountdale from the nearest house, and found lie had gone to bed, and was not to be disturbed. That at least.was the message from the housekeeper, but I am not quite satisfied, and so I came on here just to warn you that our man may have slipped through our hands." “What direction did tho car take, Murray?” “It travelled like the wind In the direction of Weymouth, sir." “And the woman? How does the constable say she was dressed? Did he notice?” “Yes, she wore a dark green dress, sir, a peculiar kind of hat, and a veil pulled down over her eyes."

CHAPTER XIV. Breaking it Gently. Monday morning brought the London papers. Da ere made a point of reading them before breakfast. lie realised that England was stirred by the second crime. Editors were embarrassed. They had no axe to grind against a Government Department, and they . found themselves In a difficult position. It dawned on them that this was the greatest mystery-case since the war, and they confessed it was difficult to oensuro the Yard. That is, they knew that airplane murderers were absolutely unique, that only a short interval elapsed between the first and second crime, and that the greatest detective in England had charge of the investigation. So they contented themselves with their 'traditional grievance. Once again they reminded the British public, that a-growing number of murders remained unsolved, and they suggested a drastic change of personnel at headquarters. Daere was tickled to death when he read Ilial paragraph. ,11c thought of sending up a prayer for his chief.

Then ho decided that Sir Francis Didgett had the physical strength to pray for himself. But the headlines were sensational. They sent a shiver of dread through every newspaper reader, and a ■thousand eyes were directed to any' passing aeroplane. Imaginative people could conjure up the whole scene. A defenceless girl at llie mercy oJ some fiendish ■brute in tbc skies, knowing Hint it' was useless- tr; call or shriek for help, faced wilh all the horror of a ghoulish lunatic, 'l'lien that sickening sequel Lu The ghastly

(Author of “The White Angel," "Murder at Red Grange," etc.)

crime, the drinking >of the victim’s blood by the murderer, and the last fatal act of hurling 'the human body from the aeroplane. Men talked a'bcut the crimes in every club; women gossiped about them in. every street and doorway. Fleet Street churned out fresh editions every half hour. Pictures of Cottingdale were on every front page. And P. C. Gutteridge was photographed 'in every imaginable position. Dacre perused the comments of Air Ministry officials. He read everything that appertained to the case, and although lie chuckled over the growing immortality of Gutteridge, he knew that every member of the Yard looked to him to retain its prestige and find the murderer. The editor of one paper said with emphasis that no member of the Air Force was to blame. •Dacre gave a distinct nod of approval. •He was confident on that point already. It was within his knowledge that Whitehall officials worked furiously all through the night, sending out wireless messages in every direction, distributing telegrams to every aerodrome in the oountry, and he had been •furnished with a report that no Government machine had gone near the Cottingdale area. That, of course, was with the exception o ! f Holmes, who had flown a Government plane from Farnborough, but he had duly accounted for himself, and his Innocence had been established. Yes, the Air Ministry officials had nothing to worry about. These two' mysterious •crimes did not lie at their door. Dacre was certain on that point. He made Tiis way to the breakfast table and turning to a copy of the London Sentinel he read the special Interviews contributed by Lena Somertcn. Her photograph was alsg In the paper—strangely enough, alongside his own—but that, of course, was only another coincidence. It was better than being alongside P. C. Gutteridge. Lena’s articles were written with a graphio pen, and the masterly interview with P. G. Gutteridge would go down in history. Hut he noticed she made no reference, to the little nip of brandy. He was sorry for that omission because it meant the anti-olimax. Then he glanced at his w r atch and saw It was eight o’clock. What had happened to Lena He knew that M. Carnbon had gone to London by an early train. , “Well, Big Boy, I suppose you thought I was going to sleep all day?” Lena’s thrilling voice sounded in his ear, so he turned and greeted her with a smile. lie was making the horrible discovery that this girl never hurried in the early hours of the morning. As a typical London journalist, used to late nights, she held to her privilege of always being late for breakfast. Yet when she made her appearance one forgot everything but her loveliness. Sleep gave her a freshness that everything else lacked, and the radiance of her blue eyes was overpowering. “I trust I see you,” Dacre said In a muffled voice. He had Just com" meneed breakfast, and was eating a large piece of toast. He leaned across and helped himself to marmalade, then took a shy, appreciative glance at the young lady who had just accosted him. Lena se'ated herself directly opposite. It was a small table specially built for a tete-a-tete meal. Dacre realised that fact with a groan of horror. ; .

“I am not certain if you do,” she answered demurely. “They say that love is 'blind, you know, and so far you have, never made me an offer of marriage. You really like me, Dacre, don’t you? When yen told me you were a woman-hater I vowed to convert you inside a given number, of hours. Tell me, for heaven’s sake, that I have not failed.” “iY'ou have failed dismally,” he retorted, with a sudden grab at the teapot. lie felt terribly selfish tins morning, and if girls arrived late in a hotel for breakfast they must pay the inevitable penalty. “And I shall never make a member of your sex a proposal of that kind—never! So put that in your cup and drink it, you rascal. llow did you get along last night, my enchantress? I suppose you had no luck of any kind? Just wandered round as If you hadn’t a friend in the world. I know the stunt." Lena sighed. The waiter had hurried to her side. He was carrying a fresh tray of good tilings.. “No," she confessed when they were alone, “ we did not run across our mystery woman. But ‘Mary Brookes and I are not going to lose heart. We realise that Weymouth is an exceptionally large town, and that a woman will walk across our p-frth this evening. If she does, I will see that the balloon goes up. You wili be notified without delay, and that woman will be tracked to her lair. We have it all arranged.” (To be continued.)