THE TENTH EMERALD

Waikato Times, Volume 118, Issue 19662, 23 August 1935, Page 4

THE TENTH EMERALD

SYNOPSIS. Clive Anstey Is tlie managing director ol - the Continental branch of Anstey ana White, Jewellers and art dealers. Somo months ago an emerald cross, containing ten stones, onco the property or Eo u p> XIV, came Into his hands. He sont it to his nrm in London. , _ Arnold Mortimer, who has done consul erable business for Anstey and w nue s with collectors, takes charge ol the cross and offers to find a customer rot U- m “ wnile it is In his possession his nav burgled and the cross stolen. .... For certain reasons Clive suspects i timer of raking the robbery, to bim from Paris under the n “„ tinllP Men, posing as a collector of antique Egyptian emeralds. The bait is success ful, ror arter an interval Mortimer % - that he has been fortunate enough to nnu Eden three exceptionally line s t° n m ._ t Ann Littlejohn, in an effort to augment her widowed mother’s income, and toon tain necessary delicacies for her crippieu brother, takes a Job at Simon’s Curio Shop in the Brcmpton Road. Betty Marks is h p ’t rellow worker, and Is engaged to \ m tor, old Simon’s son. * Joe Bland, art ex-C.I.D. man, not on tne straight, is in Mortimer’s pay. h Mortimer lias a half-brother Raipn, whom he uses as his pawn. The. relation between the two Is kept secret. Mortimer often has business wltn oiu Simon, and is a regular visitor to the shop. Ks is in love with Ann. He J nv 'V® s Anir, Betty and Victor to dinner In his nat. While the party Is in progress, Eden calls, and is invited to join them. Auei dinner Mortimer produces the tnree emeralds. Suddenly there is -a crash on the landing outside. Phelps, the eldeiiy butler, lias apparently fallen down tne stairs with a tray of crockery. (Eden, 101 his own ends, has previously “ arranged this crash with Phelps). On re-entering iho room two of the emeralds are missing. All are willing to be searched except Ann. She, on a sudden Impulse, has put a sprig of grapes Into her handbag to take home to her brother. The discovery ot them would be too humiliating. • Clive, who has fallen in love with her, offers to escort lier home. He takes lier to a restaurant and there produces one or the emeralds from his pipe. . (He himself Is puzzled as to the disappearance of the second stone.)

CHAPTER IX (continued). Dismissed! Ignominiously dismissed I Oh, there was not a doubt of the real reason. Arnold, when he had gone up to see Simon, had evidently not thought fit to mention the theft of his emeralds. But Victor had. ■ Overstaffed ! What ridiculous nonsense I Why had he not accused her outright? Why had he not given her a chance to speak? To be branded as a common thief without even a hearing! . . . Oh, it was intolerable! She strode on without pause through Hyde Park, along the Serpentine and across Kensington Gardens, and then took a bus. As she neared home her anger gave place to concern. It,was not so much for the loss of her job, but the way her mother would, take the news. It wanted such a trifle to plunge her into hopeless despair, as though the end of all things had come. And this was more than a trifle. All their woes and difficulties since leaving Whitelands would return to her with cumulative effect.

Poor dear Mum! She made life so very hard for herself. But the shock was to be Ann’s. The first sight- of her mother’s stricken face drove every other concern out of her head. Mrs Litlejohn’s frail form was huddled in a chair, and seemed shrunken somehow. Her eyes were red with weeping. But she was not crying now. It was worse. She looked lifeless, 'terribly ill, and exhausted. Not even when her husband died had Mrs Litiejohn crumpled up so completely. “Mumsl Darling!” cried Ann fearfully, and flung herself on her knees beside her. “What is it? Something has happened. Is it Johnny?" Mrs Littlejohn shook her head. Tears slowly welled up in her eyes again. “We’re ruined,” she said faintly. “At the end of everything. All my money. Not a penny of it left. Not even this quarter's cheque. Penniless, Ann.”

It was some little time before Ann learnt all the facts. When she did the truth was enough to daunt even her courage. The Anchor Endowment Corporation had been closed by the police. Mrs had given her the news. ' A "bucketshop” swindle, he had called it. It was Ann’s turn to wonder what on earth they could do. It might bo weeks before she could get another job. Meanwhile, how were they going to live? The only immediate hope was to let “Whitelands.” At the rent demanded no one would take it. It was much too high. But her mother had obstinately refused to lower it. The truth was she could not bear the thought of strangers using her house and all the things which belonged so intimately to the happy past. While Ann was debating the matter in her mind, and wondernig whether to telephone the Agent on her own account, there was a ring at the door Tho caller proved to be Arnold Mortimer. lie came in, grave-faced and solicitous.

“I have only just heard, Mrs Littlejohn," he said. “And I blame myself entirely for your misfortune. It was I who advised you. But I had faith in the concern. Even the shrewdest business men are sometimes taken in. I want to toll you that I -hold myself morally responsible to you for the money. You entrusted it to me. I must make good my trust.”

It was a generous offer, quixotically generous. Ann warmed to him. But she shook her head. Mrs Littlejohn roused herself. It was amazing lo see the change in lier. She looked genuinely astounded that anyone should dare to offer what amounted, in effect-, to charity. “Thank you, Mr Mortimer,” she said sharply. “I’ve no doubt you mean very well. But please don’t ’think of such a thing again.”

He accepted her answer with a bow of submission, and drawing Ann aside began to discuss ways -arid means of how It might- bo possible for him to ■help. Tho calm way he look Ann’s dismissal struck lier as odd. Surely he was not so obtuse? He must realise the true reason. But all lie said was:

“Well, I’m not really surprised. Simon lias been grumbling about overhead expenses for some lltllo lime. “it’s bad," lie admitted. "About as bad as it could bo. I’m afraid your mother is going to make herself ill with worry. And she won’t accept help. You can see that.” '•No,” said Ann bravely. “She’s quite right. We shall pull through, somehow."

lie did not answer for a while. Then lie looked at her wllh earnest, questioning eyes. “Why don’t you just nud your lovely lilllo head at me, Ann,” he pleaded, "That's all i need. And dial’s all you need lo do. You know how I love you. Noll know how numb 1 want you. Am I so impossible ?"

Ann Imcl honn expecting I Ills, drcadIn” It. Act, why dreading U when she lin cl half droadotl days ago what, her answer would eventually he? Hilt she could not, bring; herself lo answer. "Don’t tiak mo now.” “\V’liy not?, Because you misht say

By LINDSAY HAMILTON (Author of “The B-lack Asp," “John Smith—Blackmailer," Etc., Etc.).

’ves’ for the sake of what I can offer. My dear, there is so little I can offer as an inducement that I can’t afford to miss the faintest chance.’ His frankness appealed to her. i should be marrying you for your money,” she said, determined to be equally frank, “and for whatsit would mean to Mother and Johnny. _ His eyes devoured lier hungrily I ask no better fate. Think, if you like, of what:it means to your mother. I should have the right to enforce the offer I made a few minutes ago, and more. Johnny shall have tho best attention money can buy. If we can get Sir Trevor Williams to operate it might put him on his feet again. For theii sakes, then, if not for your own or mine." Chancing to look away at that moment, Ann -caught her mother watching them with eager, hopeful face. Though she could not have heard, she must have guessed what Arnold was saving. Anri felt suddenly deserted, defeated and helpless. It. was no use struggling against circumstances. She might as well give in now as. later. She turned slowly to Mortimer, and nodded.

His face lit up. He did not speak, but caught her hands, and after one fierce grip released them. That was all. For a little while longer lie stayed chatting to Mrs Littlejohn in the role of prospective son-in-law. Ann had slipped away to talk to Johnny in ■order to stop herself from thinking. When Mortimer was bidding lier good-bye ho remembered an item of information 'that he had thought might Interest -hex 1 .

“ I forgot to tell you this afternoon,” he said. “ That fellow Eden crashed on his way to Paris. on Sunday. Retribution doesn't as -a rule work -so quickly.” The walls and floor seemed to rock before Ann’s eyes. “ Crashed?” she gasped.

Mortimer -did not seem to notice her agitation. “ Yes," he answered, -casually. “He was killed, and the pilot badly injured. Or it may have been the other way about. Anyhow, it doesn’t much matter." Doesn’t much matter doesn’t much matter... . . the words went on repeating themselves foolishly in her brain after Mortimer had gone. The telephone had rung. Her mother was answering it. Something about- “ Whitelands ” ’.'... doesn’t much

matter; nothing at all. Her heart seemed turned lo lead. The weight ot it. was dragging her down. .Ann clutched at the door for support,, and fell in a dead faint. '. CHAPTER X. The week that followed was one of alternating suspense and,-relief for Arnold Mortimer. Bland had. brought ’him the news of Eden’s crash on Sunday evening. The morning papers contained -only.the brief account: A -crosschannel 'plane chartered by a Paris, business-man making a forced landing near Paris had crashed and burst into flames.

■Bland had watched tho ’plane depart. Sliles was waiting in 'Paris U pick up the trail when it landed. He had telephoned the news, through before full details of the crash were known.

His report on (Monday, however, put a different aspect on things. The first account had been exaggerated, as first accounts often are. The pilot had gone for assistance, but it arrived in his absence; and finding only one survivor had supposed the pilot had been trapped In the burning plane.

It was not' till Mortimer returned from the Littlejohn flat that evening that he had the full report from Joe Bland, and it was disturbing. “ They've taken him to a private nursing homo outside Paris," said Joe in his sourest manner. “ -Can’t say yet how bad he is. But if I was in your place I’d be hoping It was bad enough to keep him quiet for -a long time.”

“ You’re keeping -something back, Bland,” said Mortimer, -observing -him shrewdly. “What is it?" With really bad news to communicate, Bland became perversely cheerful. “ Who’d have thought it?” exclaimed softly, toothpick ready for action. “ Took a false name, -didn't he? And do you know why? Do you know who he is?' He’s Clive Anstey of Anstey -and White’s." Bland began operations with the toothpick, “Where you got that emerald cross. D’yer see?”

There was really no need to ask. Mortimer did see. It was a bad enough blow to lose the emerald, bin to discover that suspicion had rested on him all along was a shock of the worst possible kind.

“ He’ll try and have that stone identified,’’ went on Bland. “ And if he does, before you know where you are, there’ll be an inspector round with a -search warrant."

Mortimer nodded his complete agreement. But his assurance n ad returned. “ 'Forewarned is forearmed,” he , said dryly. “And it wouldn’t be a bad thing if they did try it on. One stone proves nothing, and they won’t find the others. I’ll give them hell if they come nosing round.”

“ Well, it’s a good thing you’ve got me lo advise you,” observed Bland complacently.

As tho days passed and nothing untoward happened, it began to look as though Mortimer’s precautions had been unnecessary. Then came a further report from Sliles. Anstey, it appeared, was suffering from* the offeets of concussion and was likely to be detained for some lime, iris mind was affected—didn’t know who he was or what had happened lo him, Amnesia was the 'Official bulletin.