High Doom

Waikato Times, Volume 116, Issue 19452, 17 December 1934, Page 4

High Doom

THE FIVE OF HEARTS

Sebastian Martin, Foreign Minister, me\ death'’ In an aeroplane crash, but Detec-tive-Superintendent McKnight, who lounc an ingenious little weapon in* the wreckage which he took as a clue, thinks there lias been foul play. Shortly after the crush Mill Cleveland, Mch'night’s journalist nephew, who Is friendly with Rosemary Martin, duughter of the Minister, IS' shot at while boating with a friend, Brian Clarke, oif the Thames, A medallion is found in the bushes from which the shot taiitc.

Sebastian Martin was one of the Five or Hearts or Bonchester School, a mutual bond or affection formed in youth for his widow, Mrs Peggy Martin. The others, who dedicated their celibate Tutuvcs to her after her marriage, were Premier Hubert Tullis, Sir Michael Loder, specialist; Gerald Marker, artist; and John Martel, famous sinß-er. Had the bond been broken, aitd was there now a vendetta? Those tboories are being investigated by McKnight and Carswell, bis assistant, and at the same time they arc keeping in mind Enrico Paola, an Italian', who wanted a locked diary belonging to Martin.

CHAPTER XXXVIi. Fire and Crash. Up to now, McKnight had glossed over in his own mind any shadow of suspicion as to the Premier’s possible complicity in'the mystery. Did it seem so preposterous now? He was acting very queerly. What advantage had his permission given the detective if all the clues were to be withheld from him? He had almost been better off before as a freelance. It was absolutely essential that he should see that diary. He made up his mind on that ! point. How he was to accomplish it i he could not yet see, but get a sight of that diary he must. For too long now he had been filling his head with fancies and vagaries. It was high time something concrete and factual turned up. Time was passing. The mystery of Martin’s death would very soon be overlaid with new trails and the old clues would be rendered valueless. It was useless to try to make Tallis see his viewpoint; either he was being wilfully stupid or else he was acting a part. Which was the truth? Voices from the garden interrupted his thoughts, and Mrs Martin and I-larlcer came back through the French window. McKnight looked at his watch. Four o’clock. He must be getting back to town. Where was’ that young rascal Bill? “I must be going very soon, Mrs Martin,” he said to his hostess. “I must thank you for your hospitality.” "Not at' all, Mr MoKnight,” she replied with a smile. “After this you must count yourself among my friends. Do not be afraid of dropping in whenever you are in the neighbourhood.” Vague Suspicions. “You must come to my studio some time, McKnight,” said Marker. Fin starting work this week on Mrs Martin’s portrait and I want your opinion.” “Thank you, I shall be delighted,” smiled MOKnight. “Though I cannot set myself up as an art expert, yob know."

“This portrait will not take much understanding,” said Harker, and McKniglit could not miss the significance of his glance, at Mrs Martin. He was right, then. There was more between the artist and the erstwhile Peggy Campion than was obvious. All these people seemed inclined to make a fuss of him, and the deteotive found himself analysing their various motives. Tallis’s he knew, and possibly Mrs Martin’s. But why should Harker be so effusive? McKnight was not conceited enough to imagine for one moment that it was due to his own personal oliarm. When the car returned with Rosemary and Bill It was with some difficulty that McKnight persuaded Bill tha), it was time for them to go. Bill was one of those'young men, who, when he found a congenial spot, wanted to stay there until his welcome was worn out. But eventually his uncle prevailed upon him and they were soon shooting away from Chingford at a breakneck pace. On the way homo McKnight was not communicative but let Bill do all the talking. This the young man was not loath to do. He held forth at great length on the charm and beauty of Rosemary Martin, but MoKnight listened with only half an ear. “Are you in a hurry?” McKnight asked suddenly.

“Not particularly. Why?" “I- want to rim out to Hamvorth In a hurry," replied McKniglit. “Can you take me there?" “Why, sure," said Dill. They were passing through Highgate and he was going to make a detour. “What's the big idea? Going to the Aero 'Club?" “If you must know, yes." “That’s where Martin learned to fly, isn’t it?" At the Aero Club. “How did you know that?" Rosemary told me. Think it’s any use looking round there? Seems to me your inquiries into Martin’s disappearance should start at Chlngford itself.!’ “Possibly. And possibly not. I’ve not found any reason to believe that Martin’s ’plane went up from Chingford. There are no hangars or sheds thereabouts and no open fields near the collage. If a 'plane had started from there, it would almost certainly ' have been talked about. I’m inclined to believe it started from the Aero Club where it wouldn’t be noticed." “Maybe you’re right," conceded Bill with 1 some doubt in his voice. “But how are you going to arrive anywhere .?’’ “If you don’t look out, we’ll arrive in Kingdom Come," cut in McKnight crisply as they grazed the back of a coalcart. They were nowi bowling through Willesden and it was growing dusk. It was quite dark when they arrived at Hamvorth, and when they drove up to the gate of the Aero Field'McKnight jumped out and asked Bill to wait for him. The comforting reflection had come to him that now he could employ his official status and thus his path would be made much smoother. lie eatne out after half an hour’s delay, and lo Bill’s-questioning he was a lillle reticent, but he unbent after they had been driving for a few miles. “I didn't learn very much there, Bill," he said at last. “Beyond the fact that Marlin had received tiis pilot's license about six months ago there and that lie kept his own machine -there and that if was Iho one in which lie came down dead, no one seemed to know when lie went up last from llanworth anyhow, and there is, of course, record kept of each takeoff, even those of private individuals." Bill's face showed his dissatisfaction. "I think you’re wasting your lime. Uncle Jim," lie said suddenly, “You're gelling nowhere . . . nothing's happening. Fve iiiwe,” known you In he On a case so long wild such poor results. I'm veiling fed up ... I want something to happen.'’ “it isn't my fault. Bill," explained McKnight, “Till lo day ,I'vo been blocked along every Hue. The trail.

J. L. MORRISSEY

faint though it-has been, has been denied to me. It’s only just to-day that I seem to be seeing daylight a little. “If there’s anyone you suspect you might let me know,” said Bill plaintively. “Js it one of these Five of Hearts johnnies?” “I’m practically certain that the man who encompassed Martin’s death was one of five people—the four remaining members of the Five of Hearts and the Italian, Enrico Paola.” He told Bill what had happened recently in the matter of the diary and Paola’s threatening visit to Mrs Martin.

CHAPTER XXXVHI. Threat to Life. “ 'My word I” marvelled Bill. “So you have been doing some work'after all. This" Italian fellow, though, from what you tell me, looks as though plain murder was too straightforward for him. If Martin had been stabbed in the back I should feel more inclined to suspect him. iFacts being what they are, I should feel inclined to suspect one of the four. And, judging by what you think was the manner of the murder, I should be on the look-out for signs of incipienl madness In one of them. The affair reminded'me of those old film serials in which the villain went out of his way and to a terrible amount of trouble to Revise some fantastic death for the hero, whereas a plain bullet would have finished the thing."

“ And incidentally finished the picture,” said his urfcle with a smile, “And don’t forget, my boy, that a plain bullet was very nearly successful in ending your career.” “Harker?” was Bill’s 'grunted question, and MoKnight nodded gravely. “ I don’t see who else,” he said slowly, and there was silence for a few miles as the car rushed on through the dark towards Kew. “ It's a pity," said Bill after a while, “He seems a genuine sort of bird. J rather took a fancy to him.” “So did I. I'm hoping against hope he had nothing to do with it. But you must admit he is about the onlj one of the four who shows any leaning towards what you would irreverently call lunacy. At least, I guessed you thought so that day when we met him at Staines.”

1 “By jove, yes,” exclaimed Bill, “Those pictures and those statues , . . . . uhghl . . . dreadful stuff.” “He’s in love with Mrs Martin, J suppose you know?” “What? How did you 'And thal out?”

“I saw it at lunch to-day. It was too obvious to miss. One of these days, Bill,your Rosemary is going to have a new stepfather, unless . .” “ Unless, what, Uncle Jim?" asked Bill uneasily.

Before the Crash.

“'Unless I fail im this case for the first time in my life,” said MoKnight gravely, and Bill made no reply. Both- continued for a while staring at the road that was lit for soma distance before them as the oar

roared through the darkness. Suddenly they whizzed past a lighted saloon oar in which sat one man only. They gave him but scant attention, and when, five minutes later, they heard behind them the roaring engines of a car they were surprised to look behind and see that it was the same •oar apparently following them. “ That bounder’s going to have an accident if he doesn’t look out,” growled Bill as he reluctantly slackened his speed and drew to one side to lot the other pass. But this was not the other driver’s intention, for the oar did not pass them, but held on to their tail for the next few miles or so, keeping a distance of fifty feet away.

“What’s the chap’s idea?” said Bill at last exasperatedly. “ Why doesn’t he pass :us if he wants to?” “ I don’t think he wants to. Bill,” said McKnight in a strange voice. He had been looking at the following car once or twice and something vaguely familiar about it had struck him. “By jove, I’ve got it,” he cried al last. “ It’s that fellow . . .” His words were cut short by a jarring crash as the back of their car caved in and buckled itself into the front seat. Both he and Bill were pitched over the dashboard of the car. and it , was by the veriest miracle that they were not cut to pieces by the shattered glass of the windscreen, shivered by the impact. A burst of flame sprang from the rear car, and at once It roared six_feet in the air. ~McKnight tried to rise, but with a groan fell bade in the road where he had fallen. Bill Cleveland, his faoe blackened and cut. helped him to rise, and Mcknight’s face went pale as he tried to lean his weight on his left ankle.

“Anything broken, Uncle?" asked Bill anxiously, and McKnight smiled a little faintly at him.

“Sprained ankle,” he said thickly as he staggered to the grassy bank at the side of the road and sat down thankfully. He fingered his ankle gingerly; it was beginning to swell rapidly. Bill leaned over him anxiously. ,

"Accident Only.”

“Anything I can do, Uncle Jim?” he asked, and for answer McKnigh! plunged his hand into his pocket and drew out a small automatic.

“ Yes,” he ground out, “ get after that murderous hound who tried to run us down; if he’s not burned to death, the swine." The venom in his uncle’s voice startled Bill, but he obeyed the behest and ran towards the burning cars The fire had now spread to Bill’s car, and the light the two made lit up the whole of the roadside. But of the driver of the hindmost car there was no sign. The driving-seat and tonneau were both empty, as Bill ( could see by peering Into the blazing interior. Several cars had now stopped at a respectable distance from the blaze, and a road Patrol man stepped up to Bill. Instinctively Bill’s hand tucked the gun away in his pocket, and *he began to answer questions.

McKnight had now limped up to them, and, leaning on Bill’s arm, gave his version of the affair.

“It was an accident,’’ ihe said firmly, to Bill’s great astonishment and the open-mouthed surprise' of the patrolman,, “The driver was scared and has made a bolt for it,” went on MoKnight. “ I’ve got the number of the oar, but I don’t want to prosecute.

You know me, I guess.” .'He handed the man a,.card, and at sight of the name engraved thereon the man stiffened to attention. McKnlght nodded approval and wiped his face With his handkerchief. \ (To be continued to-morrow.)