“The Mystery of The Bombs ”

Waikato Times, Volume 121, Issue 20334, 26 October 1937, Page 3

“The Mystery of The Bombs ”

(By L. W. BROCKMAN)

CHAPTER II. — (Continued.) The secretary was an imaginative man, and he visualised many nasty things that might have happened to his chief. He wasted; no time in getting in touch with the police. They in turn set about their task of tracing the big Rolls in which Sir Richard usually drove himself. This proved a fairly simple job, and long before news of the chairman’s absence had leaked out in the 'City, the car had been found drawn into the side of a lonely road, some way from the highway on which Marner usually travelled. From the car there were footprints that led the detectives to the edge of a swiftly flowing stream, and on the bank itself there were further signs that had caused the police to send l'or drags. Their efforts xverfc fruitless, but a little later the missing man’s hat was found about three miles lower down the stream. Such were the facts. The infer- • onces drawn were many. Neither the police nor the general public was inclined to believe that Marner had been drowned. The polioe found no signs of a struggle either near the car or at the water's | edge. If Marner had gone into the water he had; walked in voluntarily, they believed, and in any case they felt that they would have found the body with their drags, for the stream was not very deep, and half a mile lower down It broadened into a wide, very shallow lake. It was highly improbable .that the body would have passed beyond. The public—especially those who knew little of the condition of the finances of The Northern Mines Market Corporation—said many things that were complimentary neither to Marner nor to the company.' It was fairly obvious, the knowing ones pointed out, that Marner had staged a disappearance. No doubt the affairs of the corporation were not so flourishing as they might have been, or else Sir Richard had been handling money that was not his own. The popular idea was that the company promoter had found it wisest to collect a lot of money together and get out of the country quickly, probably by aeroplane. Unless the police acted promptly he would reach some South American Republic where extradition laws were lax, and there live in luxury on his ill-gotten >vealth. Indeed, the police were inclined to credit this theory, but preliminary investigations failed to reveal any reason for such an act on the part of the flnanoler. Two days later the mystery was cleared up In a rather surprising manner. Superintendent Macey was discussing the case with Blake when the telephone that stood at the Superintendent’s elbow rang sharply. Macey was not given to haste, unless there seemed obvious need for it. He turned slowly in his chair and spoke languidly into the mouthpiece. Then he stiffened, and leaned forward eagerly. Oh, he’s found, is he? What happened?” For a few minutes the superintendent was silent, except for an occasional grunt or an exclamation that seemed to express wonderment. At last the message was finished. “Very good,” Macey said. “There is something very Ashy there. You’d betteu. stick to it.” He turned to Blake. “Marner has turned up." “Dead?” Bob asked. “No, fit as a fiddle. Says he was doped and taken out of the car. Woke up to find himself a prisoner in a country cottage miles from anywhere. About a couple of hours ago he was taken from cottage, again doped apparently, and dumped back on the road near his house. He wasn’t at all sure that he hadn't dreamed the whole of it, until he was told that lie had been missing for two and a half days. “'He said he was well treated, and can’t imagine why he was kidnapped.” “Sounds a strange business,” the inspector agreed. “I suppose somebody wanted to depress the Northern shares so as to get hold of a good parcel at a bargain price. lias Marner told how he was held up?” “Yes, apparently, a little Austin swerved across the road in front of his Rolls. When he started, to curse at the driver, the man apologised. Said he felt queer all of a sudden and lost oontrol. Marner accepted the apology, and was just climbing back into his car when the other man jumped on him and pressed a pad—ether or chloroform, I suppose—over his face. ‘‘He says he struggled, but there must have been more than one man in the Austin, because they got. him into the Rolls before he lost consciousness. After that, he remembered nothing until he. woke up in the cotI tage. He says he was well fed, but

kept in a room in which Ihe window was boarded lip. Evidently Hie people who pinched him didn’t want the risk that he would recognise Hie place." “Who’s handling the job?” Blake asked.

“Nobilly is on it now. He's got Sergeant. Bing with him. To tell the truth we were thinking of turning you on to it. Now Marner lias turned up we may find something better for “Don't worry, I haven’t got over the holiday feeling yet. Xobillv is a damn good man. j#kl I shmfid; hate to take anything out. of his hand.” “Yes. there’s no doubt that Nobbv ,s a good worker, and he teams up well with Bing. Indeed I* don't mind raying in front, or you that I consider that pair about, the best we have at the Yard just at present. If Nobillv liadri t, such nasty habit of keeping things to himself and sending r I ' rePo "' l 1 sllouUi ,lli,lk a !ot us all he knows, but he doesn’t include wim he thinks. And we all know that at the start, of a case what a , ' e ini|:>ortant l.piJ'/p pV’, me 1 ,, r ! alkc il °* n >any things ■mri lL B ( a f ke . e ,ls office oom fn rlia| h,B -.,° Wn ,HOdest I'Ule The disa earn''* 1 r ° utine maltersmcharti Ecr'mu #n n otTonMm f l,hn U the same time lie ™ „ policeman anrt invgterles were meat ;*" d J;; ink !,° He could not.fail o I” w Similarity between !!,„ ill" i-Veneb tine,■ ,m|"n l e",| i‘"". ck 0,1 Blake I bought, too. of Jimmy Keen .-■ml tiussy l. ox ley. Hero was a ; <> s ( ' r >\ certainly, but it was not. of r !° 1 •' llO ,l,al would appeal In his lwo uults * Ihcy shone when a little

A Thrilling Story Full of Dramatic Incident.

strong arm business was in orjer. Jimmy Keen particularly was just as quick to read a clue as was Blake himself, but somehow the inspector could not see either of his friends settling down to the monotonous business of making routine inquiries. Slightly more than forty-eight hours later Gussy Loxley was standing in the middle of a road a few miles from his home. The road was deserted and the night was dark. Moreover it was raining very hard, and Gussy was unhappy. At the side of the road stood Gussy’s very expensive car. It. was a very beautiful car indeed. Even in the darkness it gleamed—a tribute to the loving care lavished on it by Loxley's near-to-perfect chauffeur. Now its wonderful engine was stilled. Instead of crouching there charged with latent power, ready to spring forward at a touch, to eat up the miles with a quiet effortless disdain —instead of all this it just lay there, so much lifeless steel. It was a deadi thing. And all because Gussy, with typical inconsequence and lack of foresight, had embarked on a hundred mile journey with sufficient petrol to feed the car for something approximating ninety. Added to this tale of woe, the road on which Gussy was stranded was one which was seldom used, and although the young man had stood hopefully on the crown of the road for half-an-hour or more, only one car passed, and the driver of that, evidently fearing a hold-up, swerved, violently and pressed heavily on the accelerator. Gussy swore and kept on swearing. Ten miles from home, and not a garage, not even a telephone, within a couple of hours’ walk. The rain ceased,, and Loxley felt a little happier, then lie learned that even the weather was playing with him in his misery. There came an exceptionally heavy sustained shower, and as the water began to seep through his light driving coat, lie decided that it mattered not how much more water he absorbed. He could not possibly be wetter than he already was. He climbed back into the car, and vaguely wondered why he had; not stayed inside and kept dry. He lit a pipe and looked at Ills watch. Just half-past ten. Ten miles meant two-and-a-half hours of steady footslogging. He decided to get on with it. Ten later his pipe was out, and as he strode along he whistled unmusically—he had run out of swear words, and hated repetition. Then he stopped suddenly in his tracks. Just ahead, to one side, there was a small copse, and as Gussy approached it a light showed up suddenly, then went out. “Funny,” he soliloquised. “Looked like electric light—and, I know they’ve nothing but lamps out here.” He stood quite still, peering ahead. Again came the light, this time It was visible for about a minute or more. Then he noticed the dim shape of a cottage. Gussy knew the district fairly well, but he had no recollection of seeing the cottage before. Doubtless that was explained by the fact that It was tucked away behind the copse. He searched the roadside for sign of a track leading to the house, but soon gave up and strode directly through the trees in the general direction from which the light had come. There were no further flashes to help him, and he blundered for what seemed to be an age before the outline of the squat building became really definite. It was situated on a slight rise and so was silhouetted against the night sky. Had not Loxley been a man almost without nerves he would not have been so anxious to enter the house. Gussy considered there might be petrol to be had, or perhaps even a telephone: He was not enjoying his walk. The rain had ceased suddenly, but the darkness of the night was scarcely relieved, and the journey through the copse to the cottage was an eerie experience. The building itself did not inspire confidence. Even in the darkness it wore an air of neglect, and before 'Gussy reached the door he sniffed disdainfully as his nose was assailed by a horrible smell of mustiness. The knocker creaked complainingly as he lifted it, and the noise when he brought it down sharply reverberated hollowly through the cottage. “Cheerful hole,” he soliloquised, half wishing that he had continued with his walk. “Must be a hermit’s hang-out. Not much hope of petrol here.” There was no reply to his first knock, and be was about to repeat the summons when he paused and stiffened. the knocker held ready. He was wet and miserable, but his ears were, as usual, very much wide open. There was a movement on the grass near to him. With one sweeping movement he released the knocker and dropped to side and crouched, ready to spring. Gussy had been in many tight corners. There had been numerous occasions when his continued existence depended on his quick wits and strong arm. He knew all the rules of “rough house.” Somebody was creeping up to the front door, and Loxley was sure Hint the mysterious stranger meant mischief. Steadily Gussy crept away from the building, circling to come up in the rear of the lurker. The young man had few equals in the art *of silent movement. He seemed to glide through the blackness without effort. | and some sixth sense enabled him to move liis vast body entirely without noise. How lie avoided such traps as ! a dry twig or Hie loose gravel on I lie j pathway lie could not have told, but I the fact, remains that lie always managed to do so. j The oilier man was not so forlunj ale. He kicked a loose, stone ami j Gussy immediately placed the position ! '-'f his adversary. lie peered in the i direction from which the sound had I come, and, his eyes growing more j used to Hie gloom, he made out a figure as it emerged from the concealing background of a clump of rhododendrons, and went forward towards Hie house. The rain and all the discomforts of the night were forgotten. Loxley was thoroughly enjoying liis adventure. He had sufficient imagination to invent a wonderful theory to explain the strangeness of the situation, and was already building up in his mind the story of a gloriouslv exciting battle of wits and fists that he would share with Ids friends, Jimmy Keen and Bob Blake. (To be coutlneud)