The Double Problem

Waikato Times, Volume 120, Issue 19942, 20 July 1936, Page 4

The Double Problem

By FRANCES BROWN

SYNOPSIL The wedding or Natalie Page to the Hon Geoffrey Stanton is due to take place on the 17m October. On the night or the 15th two men sat in a lonely derelict house on Hampstead Heath; one Stephen Maine, the other “'llv liam Bradley. “If you’ll only pull yourself together.” admonished Maine. “the next forty-eight- hours will see us rich men. Michael En'derby will be home from out \\’est to-morrow night, with a bag at nuggets in his possession which I mean to have. He's a millionaire twice over without those." On the night or the 16th Geoil’rey Stanton. taking a brisk walk, loses his hearings in a dense fog. Seeing a light- coming from a window with is drawn mind, he makes for this. but halt-way up the drive comes to an abrupt standstill, staring with horror-stricken eyes at the shadows of three men on the blind. A moment later, without pausing to consider the possible consequences to himself, he boldly enters the house. Natalie Page's wedding day dawns, but no ceremony takes place, for the bridegroom has disappeared. Three days later Keith Darrell, private detective, reads oiK this mysterious disappearance. In another paper he read! 01' 3 man being round on Hampstead Heath. apparently the victim or a brutal attack. This man has recovered consciousness in the Empire Cottage Hospital, but has entirely lost his memory. “ Mysterious disappearance; mysterious discovery,” murmured the young detective. “I’ll have a shot at solving both." Darrell is present when Stephen Maine arrives to identify the patient as his onetime partner Michael Enderhy. Darrell’s professional Instincts arc aroused, flntbhe shadows Maine in a house. in Golding street, at which Darrell calls'nexemorning on the pretext of enquiring ll there are rooms U) 101. From .\‘ilflll Dfli‘l‘ell learns of Maine's house on l-lamristead Heath, and also or his rich friend Michael linN‘in. \ruia is secretly distressed when Darrell tells her or What has bei'allen Einlcrhy. She has never trustcil .\iamc- and. is always tearful of the influence he may have on her easily-led husband. Darrel goes to view the house on the ”Chill. and there sees M 31115 Ella Bradley busily lllling in a well. Bradley brings .\ialne home to lunch l‘l]kllU\\'il 10 the I\\'() men. .\llila. overhears part 01‘ their conversation, and what. she learns fills her with such unspeakable horror and dread, flint she collapses on the floor in a dead l'aint. _______ CHAPTER XV.——('Continued.) ; ..__.. i professor Green bowed and selecleil a fine Havana. from a box that Stephen pushed towards him. “8 3D: peered .to he a. man of law \vorciS,_huh yes he struck a match and £191311e It to itlie cigar his eyes behind the 8’13““:S ‘wero taking in every line of ate-pli‘ens face. Then throwing himself bar-t in his chair 'he smoked contentedly Without removing his gaze. _ “Yes," he said. “I Was walkms down the Strand the other day vvhen lI happened to see the notice of it in your agent‘s window, and—er—fyes, it is certainly in a shocking condition; and my—er—proposal is to ibny the house after it has been completely re—novated by the owner." Stephen frowned. He had not bargained for this. " i presume you would have no objection,“ went on the stranger suavely, “provided I pay you a reasonable price afterwards?" Stephen laughed shortly. There “'BS something in the other‘s manner 'he didn’t quite like; it stirred afresh that vague feeling or uneasiness. “ It all depends what you call reasonable." he said. . “ \Vell. it you put the place ll'l pro—per repair. I'll buy it outright from {you for five thousand pounds." ‘ Stephen gasped. Five thousand pounds! He had certainly been right lt‘hen in his surmise about this man. He was undoubtedly a crank with a i craze for squander-ins money right. and icft! l " How much do you reckon it would Icost in repairs?" went on the profesIsor‘s high-pitched Voice. ”A thousand pounds, quite," said Stephen promptly. “Ah, well, that would make you four thousand to the good, and not a bad price either, ch?” “A very good price,“ admitted Sie—‘phcn reluctantly, “ but if you're pre—pared to pay 1 shall make no bones [about accepting, I assure you." Professor ilrcen smiled grimly. The [eyes behind the glasses glean-nail. I “Just so," he agreed, “ then i may‘ .iuki- it for granted that you are in u lpusiiinn to expend the necessary pre—lliminzu'y sum? otherwise it's no deul. [You see, Mr .\iainc. it isn't every man ’who can put his hands on n lhousanil pounds just when he wants it, and it you mm you nre—cr—l‘oriuunlc.” And Professor Green took a compre—lhcnsivc survey 01‘ the room in which I he was siliing—u room that no stretch lot the inniginaiion would term even i comfortable. I Stephen laughed again, recklessly I| :nul \\'llll a touch of defiance. lie was lighting and fighting vainly against i, . . ‘llml Vague icelmg ol’ uneasmess. “Then we‘ll conclude I am for—iunulc," he replied with affected carclessncss, "at any rate." stretching out at hand for a cigar, “I don‘t think we‘ll quul'rcl over ihc thousand ‘pnmnls, for i Siliill the able in manage lllliil. item. and I'll get the place in 'orilcr as soon its possible." ' ‘ ”It seems a pity.“ said the profcs< lsor ruinlmiiirciy. "that with such menus at your disposal you allowed so line it house to go to rack and ruin." Slz‘plirn iliishrtl. “ It‘s only lately,” {he said, " llilll I‘ve inul the menus at my disposal." I “All!" softly, “the lamented death ‘ut' :\ rclulhr. I suppose?“ i <icphcn shot an uneasy glance lurrnss llic tilhlc. lie was painfully :muri- ni' llir simuly gaze, ‘llDltllli'l iilc isln-rlin‘lcs. "Yes," he li'l‘lictl nnl, l"_."|>u'rc i'iulll.~llzc death of :L rcln—linr. and up in llll‘ll lii'u \\'us Jolly l luu'xi for me, l mu icli you!“ l The professor slgln'tl synipalhelltrail}: “l'u: kntmn hardships my—l's‘i'll'." hr llilllilL‘il, " lint l eumo out top twmn )curs ago, so l'vu no cause for “cumpluinl. :iiihuugh "—\\'iih grim hu—‘mnnrvfi il \\usn‘i n relulivc \\ho rc—illi'llllll'l'i'd inc. ll \\ns just sheer hard \\til'l\ nil in) put llmi \\'un me my prc~ srni i’nrinnu. unii i'\'u nunlc up my Iniinl to enjoy every penny of it in mining gmnl lo ulhcrs." .“Tlix-ru's unliiin: like ii." he said, iilli'l‘ u nmnn-ni‘s pause, “ll‘ \‘mm-o l"”““‘ by H linncsll). ’i'hel'c‘s some’iinnx‘ \vry slunnlulin‘: in “Killing “11;” )--u'\.- justly smut." l .\‘linln'n lililll‘l'll lllulll)l)‘ .nnl mapped 3‘ ‘L'H‘llr Urn“ \\ilh :i lino L'mn humi—ler'i'v'llll‘l. 11.- \\.l.“ lhiniting Ni ii ling ..u mum-1s- {Hill of All llmt 11-11 l hurl jln‘nwl 11l runnrrliun with il. , "1} .luln'i itnlm,” llv- i[i|.l\l‘l'4‘t| Im. ;.w:'l.uni,\~ ’llml mun “m 1“ “‘l' lur—‘lilrluf slil'li .i~ )ulll\' \\llll llll'ii' bruins." i ii I' llilil lips <'iil'\i-:] in 3 sum“. :\ IW}: mi llills-‘fiiaz Emmi slinl smith-lily ,1i...‘ \\i‘) -l“l’i>>\ l:.n' l.ilrll-. l " .\l} :miunv. .wnn: nmn." mid 'l’i‘llir‘wr lil'wn \\llll slow ilnlilwm_ .ii'm. " \\ ".\. nimlo \\llli llllsznllvr\\.|l-ds i ““11““ I“ “l-l‘l“ “ll l'ilt‘ l 11ml limo, lo «li.‘\oic ill) \\liolu nummu“ |., \\llui .iL-id m'cuousl} been IL. “huh“ [science .1»-i Literature."

(Author of "Anne Sinclair’s Love s‘ory," 610., no.)

For several seconds Stephen Maine made no reply, but set staring with n wide fascinated gaze at a small brown mole that showed distinctly on the wrist of the man who sat facing him. He had seen .just such a mark on the right wrist of a man some years .130. and the sight revived unpleasant mem—ories and filled him with a swift un—reasoning fear. Still there must be many men with small brown moies on their right wrists. it was with an ef—fort that. he managed to pull himself together. . " Indeed?" he murmured vaguely, “that's extremely interesting." Then followed a good half hour that was mainly confined to business. and for a time Stephen Maine was able to dismiss from his mind that unreasoning sense of fear. It revived, how—ever, when shortly before leaving Professor Green made a startling state—ment. "I mentioned to you just now, Mr Maine," he said, “ that I like to do good to others with the money I have Just-1y earned, and it is really in fur—therance of this object. that; I am desirous of purchasing your house." “Yes?“ said Stephen with a note of interrogation. He began to wonder if this eccentric man intended metamorphosing The Grange into a luxurious convalescent. home or senatorium or something on similar lines. “In fact," went on the professor, " I have decided to otter it as a home to that poor unfortunate young t'el—low who is nowat the Empire Cottage hospital." Stephen gazed at the other with wide, dilated eyes. “At the Empire Cottage Hospital?" he echoed stupidly. The professor carefully flicked the ash from his cigar, and took a. long pull before replying. “ Yes," he said slowly. “A friend of yours, I believe—Michael Enderby. I‘ve decided to ask him to roome and live with me.“ 1 Stephen was amazed and looked it. i“ But—why?" he stammered. “A pure matter of interest, my friend,“ shrugged the other. “From scientific reasons i am anxious to study the case. Also 1 am extremely sorry for the unfortunate young man. He may he a millionaire, init— where are his friends‘.’—he remembers noth—mg.“ “i am his friend,” said Stephen Maine with some show of heal. “Exactly, hut—does he know it? Does he know anything? Could he. for instance, in his present state of mind guarantee that you are or have ever been his friend, .\lr Maine?” There was something sinister in the question that sent n cold shiver down Stephen‘s spine. He suddenly felt that Iho hated with a bitter intense hatred this man who was questioning him. .\hnost he found himself wishing that he had not agreed to sell The Grange to him; all the more so as obliged to make a most unusual robefore he took his leave he would he quest. He did it in ll nervous, Jerky manner that brought another gleam into the eyes so carefully hidden be—hind the spectacles. “ Only my agents know that I am the owner of The Grange," said Ste3phen as he escorted his visitor to the door, “and I should prefer it. not to be known elsewhere. 1 suppose you've no objection? I‘ve gocd reasons for fkeeping in the background." i “Certainly. certainly, my dear .\lr ‘Malne,“ agreed the professor, leisurely drawing on his gloves. “ I‘ll agree to anything you like, especially as," with a chuckle, “ so very soon the house will be my property and not. yours, eh? I can assure you your name shall not pass my lips at all in connection with the transaction: but all the some I hone you‘ll come there and see your friend Enderhy—as often as ever you like, eh?"

“Thanks," Stephen's lips moved stiffly, ”I will, whenever I can." A second later Stephen Maine was standing alone staring at :1 Closed IIITDI', whilst. a multilude of thoughts l‘ioted in his feverish hi‘uin. Une mo—ment they were assuring him he ought to consider himself a jolly lucky fol—low. The nexi he was lillod with usonised doubt when he i‘mnumbei'ed that the purchaser of his house was going to make :1 study of .\lii'hael En—durhy's case. Supposing he discovered at remedy and Michael lindei'hy m—um'erud his memory? \\‘hut then?

AllLi supposing this hateful profes—sor discovered other things as well? But this last, would not bear thinking about. . . . . . CHAPTER XVI. A Hauntlng Dread. It took a month to get The Grange in order; but. in that. month marvels were performed in transforming the old house to “hot; it must at. one time have represented—an ideal home for anyone in love with the antique, During the process some treasures were unearthed in the way of priceless pieces ol‘ Chippendale, old Dali and Sheraton llutl haul belonged to Stephen .\laino‘s aunt and been bequeathed, to—gethcr with The Grange, to her gracelch nephew. That. the furniture \\‘as in any \\ay vuluuhlo had never entered into the latter‘s t'alt‘ulntions; in fart he had regurdwl the rontrnls of the house .15 only in for the ruhhish heap. For himself. he preferred smnelhiuz—t‘ brighter. inure ostentatious and mod—ern. But perhaps this run the alt:— ruuntml I'or. hectiusr- us it [my lie ilflli hated ’l'ho Grunge. iu\';tri:thly associ—uling it \\'ilh at grim. sour—\‘isugetl old mold \\’llo, silting xiii'i'ig' in a high—lmrkotl chair, luul i'uutl huunilics to hint on Sundays for an hour it! u slrvtrh, non-r pausing t‘VL’I‘DL lo illi,luonish him for \\'huL shr PUKHl'Lil‘ti us ‘unuuct-ssur)‘ iitii—lL‘iillfl. Antl how roulLl iho help tlrlyutin; \\ht‘n his whole ilt‘lll‘i. zuul soul \\rrt' \\’hrru his luuly lungctl in heatiul in u lovely \\'iltlcr—‘llt‘h‘s ul’ :1 garden where lhvrc \\'ns u ‘Sllll—Liiili mu! :1 lirnlmn stnlun, Hilli—ht‘sl, ul‘ nil—wt thwp, tlurk \\'rli. «ltm'n \\'hirh ilt‘ lm'ml tn lN‘l‘l'. il' ill‘ rouhln'l pt-rsumlt- his aunt in let hint \\'lnd tho liuelmt up nurl (town. It, wasn‘t ul‘lrn ho was nllt’m‘vtl this. lusl privi—-lrgo-v hut-nus.- tlu- rhitiu nltuhe ll cl'r;il\~ Ins). grinding uuisu [hut ~will. nu his uunlfs hI-ru's. :18 .\ill' Mli sllpul'visiug hin m-nrnh-HH l'rnm ltu- slu-Itur nt' thvx

(-l‘ofipul‘—;:x'o\\n :nl'hum‘. \‘l-1, sil'ansr' [H 511), ln-x- max-\M \\r‘l'x- nut hull" .\u much :Il'l'm'lml \\lu'u film m“ him l_\»in: UH his slumzu'h lll'l'illllllil) uvvr Ilm «411:0 nl' lln‘ lII‘JHI haw: but ”I! (InllllL this \\'.:s hl'wnm- .\lu- lull! ul~ \\';L}s .u'ux'l'ml \\'ilh prophetic solamnily that. Stephen .\luinu \\zls m-wr burn hr 1w uhwmnml. ’J‘u NT \\':l)’ ul‘ lhinlxing, ln- \\.ls [mu \\’i\‘l\L‘Ll u Img" [0 Intel. \\ith so Cur) A death. (Tu be cvncluded.)