High Doom

Waikato Times, Volume 116, Issue 19460, 27 December 1934, Page 4

High Doom

THE FIVE OF HEARTS. Sebastian Martin, Foreign Minister, me. clealli in an aeroplane crash, but Deter tivo-Supcrintendent McKnigbt, who i'oun an ingenious little weapon in the wreckage which be tooic as a clue, thinks ihert has been foul play. Shortly alter the crash Bill Cleveland, McKniglit’s journalist nephew, who is l'riendly with Rosemary Martin, daughter or the Minister, is shot at while boating with a Mend, Brian Clarke, on' the- Thames. A medallion is round in the bushes front which the shot came. ■ Sebastian Martin was one of the Five of Hearts of Bonchester School, a mutual bond of affection formed in youth for his widow, Mrs Peggy Martin. The others, who dedicated their 'celibate futures to her after her marriage, were Premier Hubert Tullis, Sir Michael Loder, specialist; Gerald Harker, artist; and John Martel, ramous singer. Had the bond been broken, and was there now a vendetta? These theories are being investigated by McKnight and Carswell, his assistant, and at the same time they are keeping in mind Enrico Paola, an Italian, who wanted a locked diary belonging to Martin. CHAPTER X'LVIII. Once again McKnight found himself drawing in his breath in admiration for this man’s genius. [Momentarily forgetting his purpose, he stared fascinated at the picture that was revealed. Tla-rker had under-estimated when he claimed the porlrait as only half-finished. To the detective’s uninitiated eye it seemed to be complete.

It depicted Mrs [Martin- as be now knew her, but beneath the exterior of the plain, plump, elderly woman 'Marker’s brush and eye had caught the soul of the girl who had lived thirty years before. Somehow McKnight knew that Peggy Campion looked out at him from the eyes of the woman in the picture, and now, perhaps for the first time, he realised fully the fascination that had brought those five brilliant young men to her feet and had caused them, all but one, to espouse celibacy w,hen once they had lost her. The portrait was a dream; of that there could be no doubt. McKnight’s acute perceptions told him that this was what 'Harker saw when he looked at plain little Mrs Marlin; this was the image he carried with him in his heart. He turned to look at the others to see what effect it was having upon them, and in that moment the thing happened.

Drama of the Dark Studio. With the sudden effect of blindness the light in the room went out, and they were left in a warm, almost tangible, darkness. There was a shrill scream from the woman and a sharp cry In a man’s voice. Feet moved swiftly over the floor and a table or a chair was overturned. McKnight swept his arms wildly round and touched a figure. But it eluded his grasp and he stood still trying to pierce the gloom. The sound of heavy breathing filled the room and then a new sound split the brooding silence. A second scream rose from a human throat, this time that of a man; there was a cry of horrible intensity and then the sound of something crashing heavily to the floor. McKnight flung himself In the direction of the door and a single shot rang out. He felt desperately for the electric light switch and with dramatic suddenness the light flashed on again. McKnight stood with his back to the door breathing heavily and took in the scene that met his eyes. In a huddled heap on the floor before the easel lay the figure of Gerald Harker. Protruding from his hack just below the shoulder blade, was the ornamental 'handle of a knife that McKnight had noticed on the small table that held the paint and palette. This table had been overturned and the tubes of paint were scattered all round the still figure. A pool of dark blood was welling from' the wound, and from the way the figure lay it was obvious that 'Harker was dead. With gleaming, eyes McKnight looked round the room. Carswell stood stupidly with the automatic still in his hand, and the detective signed to him to cover the group. “Not one of you must move,” he grated out, and Martel, who was walking over to a chair, wiping his face with a silk handkerchief, stopped as though he had been shot. Loder was bending over the prostrate form of Mrs Martin, who had fainted after 'that first scream she had given. Paola was standing woodenly where McKnight remembered he had been when the lights went out.

Storm of Denial

“ Now then,” he barked. “ All of you listen. A man has been murdered here within the last few minutes: One of us is obviously guilty. Which of you moved when the lights went out?”

Then he realised the futility of the question and gave a short laugh. “ I don't think I have far to look for the killer," he said dryly, laying his hand on the Italian’s shoulder, illis words to Carswell and Bill of the day before came back to him. “ Had Martin been stabbed .in the back 1 might feel more sure of him.” With that dramatic and horrible suddenness his words had been made true. 'Here was a man who had been stabbed in the back, and to the detective it was obvious that it was Paola’s hand that had struck him down. The Italian immediately raised a storm of voluble denial, but McKnight cut him short curtly.

“What happened when the light went out, 'Carswell?” he said. “ I was staggered for the moment and lost touch with him. Then 1 fired in what 1 thought was his direction, and then the lights came on again. It all seemed to happen as quickly as that.” Carswell was pathetically aware that lie had failed in his trust. But McKnight found it easy to overlook that. For he himself had been temporarily dislocated by the sudden coming of the blackness. “ 1 didn’t move from where I stood,” declared Coder. “'Mrs Martin had hold of my arm and when she screamed, she relaxed hold for a moment and I felt her falling against me. I took her in my arms and laid her down here. That’s all 1 know.’’ “And you?” snapped McKnight to Martel, The singer had reached his chair and was silling, still wiping his forehead. "1 was 100 much surprised to move,” lie said with emphasis. “ 1 hale the darkness. I was alraid of knocking into something if 1 moved.” “I Have My Man.” “This is dreadful.” lamented Marie!. “ Here I am late already for my appearance. I hope you are not going In keep us here.” .Me K nigh I considered him lor a momenl. The singer seemed In feel mi grief al Hie Iragie end of the man who had been his friend. Completely selfish, the delerlive sel him down, absolutely wrapped-up in Ids own in - |,.|vsts. MeKnighl shrugged Ins shoulders cuulcmPluously, “UU. no!" he said. 'Jt have my

BY J. L. MORRISSEY

man hero, sure enough. The rest of you can go.” " I did not do il,” declared the Lilian excitedly. “ 1 swear to you I Know nothing of it. 1 was standing here all the while, and 1 have not moved from this spot. Why you bring me here I do not know, but I know nothing of this thing. Why should I kill him? I know nothing of him. I have met him hut once or twice . . . “That’s enough from you,” M tKnight cut him short. He laid his hands, on the man’s shoulder. • “ I arrest you for the wilful murder of Gerald Harker,” he said, and at the words Paola broke down. He fell to his knees and clasped McKnight’s legs, his Icy reserve at last broken down. Tears started to those black eyes of his, and a torrent of mixed English and his native Italian poured from his lips. “ I swear to you,” lie raved. “ I swear by the Virgin and all the Saints tljat I did not kill him. May I be struck dead here . . . .”

“Take him away, Carswell,” commanded McKnight disgustedly extricating himself from the man’s grasp. Carswell plucked the Italian roughly by the shoulder and pulled him struggling to Ills feet. He paused at the door and looked uncertainly at his chief.

■McKnight Passed a hand wearily over his forehead.

“ Take him away,” he repeated tonelessly. “'Get the nearest police station and make all arrangements . .

oh, you know the routine as well as I do, man. Why don’t you go?” He was irritated beyond bearing, but at the crestfallen look that came into Carswell’si face lie softened.

“ Sorry, old man,” he said, with an attempt at good humour. “Forgive me. I’m all strung up. I’m sick to death of the whole sordid business. This probably means my finish. I brought him here like the fool that-1 am. I thought It would bring things to a head, .and . . .and, my God! it has. The Commissioner can do only one thing with me, I’m afraid.” Tie sat down heavily in a chair, and 'Carswell silently took Paola outside. 'Hesitatingly, the singer, John Martel, followed them at a respectable distance, and McKnight let him go without a word. Loder was still chafing Mrs Martin’s wrists, and he looked over at the shrunken figure of the detective.

“Terrible Business.’’fr'

"Terrible business, Mr Mc/Knlght,” he said in a low voice. “ She was fond of him you* know. This, coming so soon after her husband’s death . . .

you kno'.v, I think it will finish her.” McKnight looked at him wildly. He, McKnight, was responsible for this Though Paola’s hand might have stricken the blow, if he had not brought the Italian here it would never have happened. And yet, could he say that? All was fated to happen as had been forced open from the beginning. He gave a harsh laugh, and rising went over and stooped down over the body of Gerald Harker.

It lay with the face beneath, and the detective could not resist a shudder as he the triumphant laugh that had Isued such a short while ago from those lips, now cold in death. He reached up his hand and pulled the cord that drew the curtain over the portrait he could not now hear to look upon. "Yes, it’s a very bad business, he said heavily, and, in his distress, he was not conscious of the banality of the remark.

He wandered out into the passage, and with shaking' fingers, took out and lit a cigarette. He needed It badly to steady his nerves, more shaken that he ever remembered them to have been before. He stayed, out there till he heard the heavy feet of the approaching policemen coming up the stairs. Then he went in. again with the inspector, who saluted him.

CHAPTER XLIX. Problem of tho Glasses. The man gazed in astonishment at the scene thafmet his eyes and started to speak. “Just have the body removed, inspector,” said McKnight, puffing feverishly at the cigarette. “There’s no need for us to look round or examine anything. I’ve already arrested the killer. Take it away .. . lock up the place and I’ll come round in the morning and do anything’s that’s necessary.’’ “You have the murderer?" the inspector voiced his astonishment. McKnight nodded his head impatiently, and the man indicated Loder and Mrs Martin, now recovering consciousness. “What about— 1 —?” he began, but the detective cut him short brusquely. “They’re all right. I tell you I have the man. I was in the room when he did it."

“You were in ... ! The inspector fought for breath, then gave it up, and going out into the passage again gave his instructions to one of his men. McKnight wandered out after him and threw down his cigarette petulantly. Something seemed lo be hammering—hammering hammering inside his brain, and he wondered he did not go mad. He gripped hold of the banister to steady himself, and Loder came out with Mrs Martin leaning on his arm. She was deathly pale and kept her eyes averted from the still figure on the floor. The detective’s eyes followed them apathetically as they went downstairs, and then he, too, followed them, feeling as though his feet were made of lead.

Ferment. McKnight slept heavily that night, and awoke in the morning with the feeling that his sleep had done him little good. lie bathed and dressed leisurely, and sat over his breakfast in abstracted silence. The affair of the previous evening was pressing upon him heavily, and his brain felt as though he had been drugged, lie wanted Lo think of the scene that had met his eyes when lie had swlclied on the lights. He screwed up is eyes and put Ins hands to his forehead, frying to reconstruct it. Hut his thoughts were scattered by the insistent ringing of the telephone bell. Automatically lie moved towards Ihe instrument, then arrested his movement and stood staring at the black pedestal as though lie saw something that frightened him. There's was an instant’s silence, then the licit rang again' and kept on ringing, short, angry, insistent rings, lie gave a strained laugh, and. lifting llio rreeiver off its hook, placed if on the table. It would lie the fiommissioncr wanting to speak lo him about last night: wanting to reprimand him: wanting to make an example of him: wanting to imi>li him in Hie service for ever. (To be continued.)