“Some Person Unknown”

Waikato Times, Volume 114, Issue 19012, 1 August 1933, Page 8

“Some Person Unknown”

By RALPH TREVOR (Author of “The Jade Token," "The Eyes Through the Mask,” etc., etc.)

(An Enthralling Mystery Story.)

gT SYNOPSIS. Bernard Gilfont, motoring: througtiYorkshire one dark night In January on his way to Scotland, Is stopped on a lonely moorland road by an attractive girl, ! ; smartly dressed, but gloveless, who ex- > plains that her car has broken down while on tier way to Leeds to catch the night mall to London. She begs a lift to Gulston Halt, the nearest railway station. Gllfont readily assents. When she has ;; gone he discovers on the floor of his car an' envelope addressed to Miss Vivienne Martlneau, 87 Canning . Gardens, Chelsea, arul fancies It must have fallen to the floor from her handbag. He puts the envelope In his pocket Tor “ruture rerercnee.'* Continuing his Journey he discovers that a leak in the water Impeller of his car has resulted In a dry radiator. Searching about for a stream he encounters a lonely house with a light burning In one of the ground floor windows. Obtaining no answer to his repeated knocklngs, he gains access to the house through the window, and finds hlmseir in a sumptuously furnished room. Without warning tho light fs mysteriously extinguished, and going In search or the mystery he comes upon a corpse—that of a man between fifty and sixty years or age, lying sprawled across the carpet In front of an empty safe. On the mantelshelf of that same room he finds a pair or grey Kid ; ( leece-llned gloves. Contrary to all regular procedure he takes possession or them. Finding that the telephone Is cut, he sets out to And the nearest police station, and acquaints the sergeant in charge or his discovery—or at least part of It. It is discovered that the murdered man Is Carfax Middleton, a retired lawyer, who lived alone except for Martha Drew, a girl who came dailv to clean and cook Tor him. Martha Is engaged to marry Ben , Somers, who works for a neighbouring farmer. ■ The case is left In Inspector Challenor s hands. Bernard decides to do a little investigating 0,1 his own account, and returns to LorJ'on. He meets Miss Vivienne Martlneau af a Care, but learns nothing rrom her. and he says nothing about the gloves which are still In his possession. Vivienne Martlneau lives In London with her rather, who for the past live years has been blind. But he is at least Tree or one alTllctlOn Carrax Middleton Is dead. IT only she knew what had happened to the gloves she had. in her blind , panic, lert behind her In that awful room when she - had seen a man shot through tho heart.

CHAPTER XVII.— (Continued). “Well, to come to the night you found me in Yorkshire. 1 was determined, that 1 should do something to end this terror that was overshadowing cur happiness. If Middletor.-.' had something in his possession which he was holding over us, I was determined to get it. I knew it was lit tie use discussing it with father. You see. 1 didn’t want hint to know

that- 1, knew as much as, I did. 1 decided to go to Ringdale and tell- Mid- / dieton that I had surrendered; that despite • the letter I had writWi him telling him that his otter to father had been refused, I had capitulated. I went to the house that night, Mr Gilfont.” the girl proceeded in a low, cracked voice, “with every intention of surrender. My father's happiness was more to me than my own. But I was going to lie cunning. Once I had secured possession of whatever it was Middleton held —and I gathered from father’s ravings that it was. a document of some kind —I intended to repudiate my bargain. Somehow -I dec’ded. i should escape from him, and if ever lie pestered us again I should go straight away to Scotland Yard.” Tim girl paused as though the telling of the narrative was exhausting her .cmdlionally. "By dove!” exclamed Gilfont, in an effort to relieve the tension that overhung the little room. “You had some pluck.”^ "When you're desperate—as desperate as I was—it isn’t pluck,” she corrected him. “But to continue. I took the train to Leeds and a local to Guiston Halt. I had obtained the information about the locality from. a Directory in the Public Library at Leeds. I found a map there—an Or.dinancc map and I, saw the house marked on it. It was dark when I arrived at Uuitson, so dark that I lost my way across the moors. liow far I wandered I don’t know, and when it got to ten o'clock I was in despair of ever finding that house. I went into Ringdale, but, of course, I daren’t inquire for the direction of the house from anyone there. I didn’t want anyone to know. Fortunately I remembered that the house on the map was south of Ringdale and west from the moorland road. ‘ “You remember how dark the night was? Well, I hadn’t gone far along the road when I heard someone whistling a tune ahead of me, and realising how late it was I decided to take a chance and ask where Moor House was situated. “Suddenly a dark shape loomed up ahead of me, still whistling. It was a man. He sto’pped whistling as he became aware of me. I asked him if he could direct me to Moor House and mentioned Middleton’s name. For a moment he paused, as though thinking. Then he told me I should strike a lane about half a mile further along on the right of the road. I thanked him. lie bade me ‘Good-night,’ and I heard him go on his way whistling •ome crazy syncopated tune. “There isn’t much more to tell. I found the front door ajar as I approached the house. I crept inside. A light was shining under the door of one of the rooms opening off the hall. I knocked on it and receiving no reply opened It cautiously. Middleton was there, Mr Gilfont. He was lying on the carpet in a pool of blood. Whether lie was dead or not, I do not know. I didn’t care. There was no longer fear in my heart. I felt glad. For one moment I thought of getting out of tiic house as quickly as I could. Then I remembered my errand. Just tiien I saw the wide open door of the safe on the far side of the room by the fireplace. If Middleton had anything of value belonging to father, 1 thought it would most likely be in his safe- I instinctively took off my gloves. Why, I cannot say, my brain was in a whirl. But the safe was empty. “It was only then that I fully realised my position—alone in that horrible house with a murdered man. How I got out of that house I don’t know. I just started to to run, and I don’t think I had stopped until Gilfont nodded. The girl’s story told utterly without frills ' had impressed him deeply. There could be no question now of the girl's innocence —1 here never really had been, ho reminded himself. “Thank you for telling me,” lie said, lamely. “But before wo think out what we must do next, I suppose you didn’t sec tho face of the man of whom .you inquired tho way to Moor House?" - “It Was too dark for that-," she ansxvered. “You might recognise his voice if you heard it again?” She shook her head decisively. “I didn’t.take any. notice of it." She

(To be Continued.)

was regarding Ixis serious face intently. “You don’t think that ....’’ “I'm trying desperately hard not to think at all, Vivienne,” he said quietly. CHAPTER XVIII. There were many people who admired 'lnspector Challenor’s painstaking methods. During the whole course of his professional career, no matter what the case on which he had been working, nor how urgent ap- : peared to be the clamour for arrest, j Jimmie Challenor went on bis way j with a calm that was almost menacing in its thoroughness. Commissioners, Assistant Commissioners and Deputy Commissioners might flap their hand in despair just as often and as vigorously as they pleased. Challenor -paid -heed to everything they said and suggested; sometimes they said unkind things to him—things that hurt his professional pride. Onc„e so important a person as a Home Secretary had even gone so indecently far as to suggest that Chief Inspector Challenor was nothing more than a tortoise and that modern ; methods of crime demanded some- j thing a little more rapid as regards ' movement. Jimmie Challenor had not. forgotten though he -had forgiven the I retort. He had his own ideas on crime and its detection, and so far the records of Scotland Yard were an eloquent testimony to his slow but thorough-going efficiency. As his colleague had frequently asserted: “ Jimmie gets there in the end, and more often than not just when everyone’s leash expe'eting it. Challenor arrived back from Paifis by air. It was still bitterly cold but visibility had improved considerably. He had bid adieu to his colleague whose, enterprise had gained for him a first-class portrait of Monsieur Henri Delarge, and the Inspector hugged that portrait literally to bis breast as the giant De Haviland air liner zoomed its way over the grey waters of the Channel towards the white cliffs of history. He had acquired a quite astonishing fondness for that portrait, for he felt it was going to be of incalculable value to his ! investigation. Xot only was it a pictorial representation of Monsieur Delarge, but it also contained a first-rate specimen of that elusive gentleman’s handwriting. A Scotland Ya*d ,'imotor-car was awaiting his arrival at Croydon aerodrome, and 30 minutes after he had passed through the formalities and the customs (quicker than any other passenger be it said), he was back again in his little -centrally-heated sanctum on the Embankment.

He had hardly settled down to review this new turn in events when Sir Bertrand Knowles demanded his presence in the Holy of Holies. “ I gave your very best wishes to Monsieur Paquin, sir," intimated Challenor, gravely. “ Monsieur Paquin reciprocates your wishes with that heartiness which is one of the flamboyant -peculiarities of the Latin race." Sir Bertrand grunted an acknowledgement which, to anyone other than Challenor who might not have known him quite so well, would have given the impression that he was not particularly interested.

“Why did you go to Paris?” asked The Deputy Commissioner, pointedly. “ For evidence, sir.” "And did you find any?” “ I did, sir. At least I am hoping it will, prove to be evidence.” “ What did you find?”

“ A photograph, sir.” “A Photograph! Of whom?” There was a note of amazement in the D.C’s tone.

“That I don’t rightly know, as yet, sir. It purports to be a gentleman named Monsieur Ilenri Delarge.” Sir Bertrand, passed a hand over his brow.

“What has’ all this to do with the murder of Middleton?" he demanded, a trifle irritably.

“Again, sir, I cannot as yet -tell you for the quite good reason that I don’t know myself. But I will say this, sir, that if I haven’t got -to the bottom of the affair within seven days from today, you are at liberty to demand my resignation and you will receive it.” “Nonsense, Challenor! You know I did not mean anything like that. I’m worried, that’s all, and what this Paris portrait of yours can have to do with the case—well, I’m frankly sceptical. I thought we had agreed -that -so far as it was possible to trace Middleton’s movements, during the past few weeks, there was no, report of liis ever having been across to Paris.” • “None whatever, sir—not as Carfax Middleton," -Challenor told -him, quietly.

Sir Bertrand Knowles gazed at his subordinate keenly. “So that’s what you’re thinking, is it? Well, I hope you’re right. Of course if there is any suggestion of dual personality that would account for a great. many things. It . would, for instance, account for the blanks in our report of Middleton’s movements. You think Middleton and this Delarge arc one and the same person?” “1 will not commit myself, sir,” Challenor told him. “I’d like you to remember that I’ve only just arrived back from Paris and I thought you would like to know the line on which I am at present working. -By the way, ■sir, how is Mr Gilfont? Is he still interested in the young woman?" Sir Bertrand shot the inspector a swift, suspicious glance. “Still interested in rny nephew, Challenor, 1 see,” Sir Bertrand evaded, with a wry -smile. “I'm interested in anyone and every■one who was in Moor House, or even in the neighbourhood on the night in question. I’m afraid my interest will not cease until I have satisfied myself that they are guiltless." “What a perfectly inexorable fellow you are, Challenor,” smiled the D.C.

“And what a devastatinglv morbid mind. Do you never look on the lighter side of life?" “I don’t get very much opportunity, sir. When you’ve got your nose to the criminal grindstone for twentyfour hours a day and for seven days a week, there is precious little time for relaxation. Rut might I remind 'you, sir, that you have not answered my question.” Tho D.C. laughed. “Of course I haven't Challenor. liow stupid of me. .Well, yes, I have seen Bernard. As a matter of fact he called in to -sec me yesterday.”