High. Doom j

Waikato Times, Volume 116, Issue 19458, 24 December 1934, Page 4

High. Doom j

BY /. L. MORRISSEY

THE FIVE OF HEARTS. Sebastian Murtin. Foreign' Minister, met death in ah aeroplane crash, hut Dottc* Uvo-Superinteiident MeKnlglit, jvlio loiinc an ingenious little weapon hr the wreckage wiilcii lie look as a clue, Hunks Uisit lias been Tool play, shortly ai crasii BUI Cleveland, Mcknight's journalist nephew, who is friendly with Rosemary Martin, daughter or the Minister, Is shot at while boating with a friend, Brian Clarke, on the Thames. A medallion is round in the hushes from vdilcb the snot Martin was one or the Five of Hearts or Bonehester School, a mutual bond or affection l'ormcd in youth »or ms widow, Ml‘s Peggy Martin. The outers, who dedicated their celibate futures to her alter her marriage, were premier Hubert Tullis, Sir Michael Loder, specialist: Gerald Marker, artist; and John Martel, rntnous singer, , Had the bond been broken, and was there now a vendetta? These theories are helhg investigated by Mcknight and caiswell, his assistant, and at the same time they are. keeping In mind Enrico Paola, an Italian 1 , who wanted a locked diary belonging to Martin. CHAPTER XLV. Hot pn the Trait. McKniglit had called at the hotel where he had left Teresa before he had gone to Downing Street that morning, and the few minutes’ conversation he had had with her proved to him that the barrier of impregnability there was between them would not be lightly broken down. She had treated him a little coldly while expressing common gratitude for his attention. She had expressed her willingness to in the hotel until such lime as her husband’s fate should be settled, and it was obvious she had nowhere else to go, for she seemed to be hopelessly In the man’s power. After his interview with Tallis this altitude of hers was abundantly explained, and a wistful pity took the place in his heart of the feeling almost of resentment he had had at her apparent indifference to him. He had arranged to meet 'Carswell and his nephew Bill at his flat at midday, and punctually at twelve o'clock he drove up to the door of the flats, and, jumping out, ran upstairs to find them’waiting for him. "Anvthing in the wind, uncle?” Bill greeted, hi*. ‘‘What do you want me for now? You seem to think I have no work to do at all."

“My work Is more important than yours, old boy,” said, his uncle genially. “You newpaper men seem to he able to be as free as the air on your own affairs. I want you to-day for we are going a little trip.” He turned to Carswell. “I got that fellow last night,” he said with enthusiasm. “Bill, I’ve made an arrest.”

Questions. , “Is It Martin’s murderer?” asked Bill eagerly, and McKnight shook his head with a laugh.

“No, I’m afarid he isn’t, Bill. But he’s an interesting capture, and Pm sure he has his place 1 in the drama." lie told them of his adventure of the early" hours of the morning, and Bill vvaVloud In his bitter lamentations that lie bad" missed all the “fun,” “You- are, of course, notoriously easy to awaken from your slumbers, said McKnight sarcastically. Bill voiced his indignation. “I’ve been at the office all night,” he declared. "Y6u are keeping me from my, beauty sleep now. I only came for the , sake of the story. Where are ,we going?” : “I’ll tell you all about it as we go down,” said McKnight, as he led the way downstairs. They took their places in the car, and McKnight again drove, refusing to allow Bill to take the wheel.

“What did you do with your last car?" he inquired innocently, and Bill looked pained. They reached High Barnet early in the afternoon, after stopping for lunch at New Barmjt, and McKnight drove straight to “'The Kirs” and up the drive.

They got out of. the car and approached the. front door. A knock having, as Molvnight had felt sure, elicited no answer, they tried the -door and found, it securely fastened. Scouting round the side, however, Bill Cleveland discovered an open Window', and soon the three of them stood inside the house.

It was fully furnished with worn, shabby furniture, and the room they stood in was evidently the kitchen, for the cold ashes of a fTre were on the hearth, and the remains of a meal stood on the table.

Finos. “They must have eaten here before Paola 'made his preparations 'to leave,” said fliloKnight, wandering out of the room.' The house proved to be furnished all in the same way, but they could find no signs that any but three of the rooms had been occupied, the kitchen (hey had been in arid two bedrooms upstairs. One of these rooms had evidently been used by Paola and his wife, but what of the other? McIvnlght and Carswell examined everything in the rooms minutely while Bill wandered out iritji the grounds! ■. Presently, McKnight in one room was •called into the other by Carswell. “Lo'olc at this, sir,” said Carswell excitedly, putting into his hand a blackened piece of paper. Mcknight took it and peered at it closely. “Looks like an' envelope,” he said. There’s some writing on it. Where did you find it? By Jove, look here, look at the wrilng. It’s almost all burnt away, but there’s a few letters left." lie pointed to the faint writing on the cnarred fragment and drew in his breath. “Barker,” gasped out Carswell, and McKnight nodded. “There’s the four letters ‘R-K-E-1V then esquire.’ What do you make of that for a find?” Carswell preened himself. “Well, it looks as though I’ve given vou another of those famous threads of yours,” ho said complacently, and McKnight clapped him on the shoulder. “Where's Bill?” he demanded, and his question was answered by a bail from the grounds below. Going to the window, ho looked out and saw bis nephew beckoning wildly to them to come down. They clattered downstairs and out into the open. Bill joined them, waving Ids arms wilh excitement. “I’ve found where the ’plane went up," he gasped out, pointing with ihs arm lo the shed McKnight had noticed in the dark, early hours of the morning. The Hangar. “That's Iho hangar where the ’plane was kept,” went on Bill rapidly, 'll' you examine Ihe grass closely you can see the marks of aerplane lyres. It's more distinct on that bare patch of oarlh. Look." They followed the direction of his I uiiistrelrlrd arm and lliere, sure euI u'ugh, they could discern the broad : print of a wide rubber lyre. Nothing i else Iml an aeroplane could have had I a tvre wilh such a wide thread. Me-

Knight measiirecr the distance rrom ’he shed lo the house. and decided here was ample room for a takc-oIL I’here were not many houses in the neighbourhood and an aeroplane might easily have taken off without exciting any comment, especially after nightfU With liisf eyes gleaming, he walked over to the shed, followed eagerly by Carswell and Bill. The door of the shed was locked, and going round to the side they peered In through a window. That the shed was empty was obvious from a first glance. “We must get inside,” said MeKnight briskly, going round to the door again, and between them thej managed to force open the wide, flimsy doors. A wide, deep, empty space met their eyes, and at the far end a work-bench. Piled high again&t the wall were cans of petrol. McKnight strode over io the bench and stood looking down at' it. “Here’s where- that deadly hammer of death might have been concocted, he said, taking in the small vice and the spool of steel wire which stood on the bench. "A man handy with his 'hands could have rigged up such a gadget in an hour. I’ll have to have another look at those reports on that thing you gave me, Carswell. Yes, here s where the ’plane went up, Bill. It s 100 obvious to he ignored. What it is all about I’m still in the dark, but it loooks as though I'll have to charge Paolo with the murder after all. This is the spot from which was launched the blow that struck down Sebastian Marlin. The blow- fell in that Held it Bircastle, but it was loosed from here.*’.

He stood in thought for a moment or two.

“I’ve enough evidence to 1 charge the Italian,” he said, half to himself. “This house and this shed and the marks of those wheels—the fact that he has once tried to kill or disable me? —'the fact that he stole the diary. By Jove, it all seems to fit in. But it -seems too obvious. There must have been someone else In it with him.” "There’s the envelope, Mr McKnight,” suggested Carswell. ’ McKnight took the charred piece of paper out of his pocket and looked at It again thoughtfully. Bill Cleveland stared at it in surprise. ■ “That was addressed to Barker,” he deolared. His uncle nodded sombrely. “Yes, I think it was,” lie -said •heavily. “Against him I have this envelope, the silver shield found on the spot where you were shot, Bill, and the plain' fact that lie appears to he making love 'to Mrs Martin. And yet, I like that fellow. I somehow just "can't see him as a cold-blooded murderer. And don’t forget the murderer of Martin must have been a man more than a little mad.” . “That might easily.apply"to Harker,” said Bill with a shrug, and McKnight knew he was thinking of the peculiar art to which the famous artist was turning. He gave a laugh.

, CHAPTER XLVI. Still Searching the Maze. “Everyone’s mad who hasn’t the same views as yourself, eh, Bill?" he said lightly, turning away from the bench'. He walked out into the open. “Let’s ius get out of this place,” he said With weariness in ills voice. In silence he led the way to the car. “I suppose we ought to find out if, Paola really was the tenant of the house," he said thoughtfully, as he drove down the vpath. “We’ll Inquire a little round here before we leave.” lie was thinking of the episode of the night before and of the woman Teresa and her strange history, so lately revealed to him.‘ llefelt a little cold shiver pass through him as lie thought of what her, life must have been, and' the feeling ol' pique he had experienced' at her’ apparent indifference to himself was drowned by his pity for her. He was lucky at the third call he made,' for here he found the estate agent who had let “The Firs” to its tenant. It had been taken for six weeks, and four of the weeks were ■still to run. But when the clerk described the appearance of the man who had given his name as “Williamson” McKnight received a mild shook, for the clerk’s description, fhougli vague, certainly did not apply to so striking a man as -the dark Italian, Enrico “Paolo,.

“A thin, erect man, lie was,” were the clerk’s words. “Very correctly dressed, silk hat, and so on. Paid in advance in notes, he did.” Was this a new development in the drama, thought McKnight to himself, returning to 'the car. Who was this new individual? The description might apply to any one of a thousand “thin, erect, well-dressed men”—of the professional type, probably. Tallis himself might All the bill, but then, surely everyone in the kingdom would recognise the Prime Minister. The description would lit Sir Michael Loder to a nicety, and here McKnight’s face relapsed Into a frown. Loder! Now, just where did Loder come in? He had certainly been in love with Peggy Campion at one time —but, nonsense! This sort of tiling would not do. There were all 100 many suspects already. Any more would sink the ship. This tenant of “The Firs” might be anyone, from Ilic clerk’s hazy description—might be someone ho had already met, but was most likely an unwitting agent of Hie real man wiio had occupied the house. And that man must have been Paula. Ho said nothing to Carswell and Bill about Ihe incident, hut declared willi disgust in his voice, as lie slammed Ihe door and pressed I lie starter, •“I'm utterly fed iup with groping round in I lie dark. Tilings must conic lo a head shortly, and I mean to force the pace.”

Forcing the Pace. "And 1 am going Lo force It." he said with vehemence, as they parted after a silent drive back lo London. “I want to set Ihe stage with the principal characters on it and try to gel some idea of them in the mass. Up lo now I’ve been considering these men separately. Now I want lo see them ns a corporate body. To me there seem two possibilities. Either Paola is Martin’s slayer or else the Five of Hearts killed him. i don’t say which one of the* four living members —Just the Five of Hearts. Paola fell into my net u lit Ile too easily for my certainly of mind. 1 don't picture him as a crafty, subtle killer. His nature leans more lo the llamboyunl killing of hot blood and instant vengeance, lie could not nurse a vemlolln for thirty years. Had Marlin been slabbed in tile hack 1 might feel more sure of Paola. lie ceased abruplly and shook hands with Ihe pair. "I’m mil coming to the ollicc tomorrow, Uarswell," lie said absently. ••|'ve some things lo think over. Hut I'll probably give you a ring some lime almiil mid-day. Expect me lo call you uu then.” (To be continued.)