“The Kerrell St. Affair”

Waikato Times, Volume 122, Issue 20463, 1 April 1938, Page 3

“The Kerrell St. Affair”

By LIONEL HAMILTON

CHAPTER Vl.—Continued n c There was silence for a few seconds. c Wallace could see he had won the little man's Interest, and he saw, too that Galli was well satisfied to leave the affair in his hands. *e grinned to himself. This was getting better and better. What would the men at , “ the Straits Settlements think of this ; for a yarnl ~ . I ii ••And how do I know, demanded Bennett, "you’re not leg-pulling?’ "You’ve got to use your discretion, said Jim Wallace. <- j For the first time Galli smiled without anv repression of feelings. He had enjoyed the way his guest got at the reporter, whose appearance he had viewed with something more than misgivings. Two years before there had been a suicide at the Scion, which c would have been hushed up but for - Bennett’s activities. The Record j[' man had turned it into front page headlines, and thereafter Galli had c been more than distant towards him. Bennett seemed to be tossing a coin, mentally. He grinned, suddenly, and dropped into an easy chair. j "All right,’’ he said. ‘Til buy it.’ ( “You understand," said W allace, . “that If 1 give you my story, no men- ‘ tion of to-night’s shooting gets into the papers to-morrow —or any time — j through your” Bennett drew a deep breath, and he was about to speak when he hesitated, and his smile dropped to a frown. He stared. "You’re not,’’ he asked, in a rather ( high voice, "a private dick, are you?” "If ‘dick’ means detective, no,” 1 Wallace grinned. ’Bennett’s expression cleared. Galli, with a wide smile, stood up and bowed to Wallace and —a little less warmly —to Bennett. "Now we understand that,” he said, "I would only be intruding. Goodnight, Mr Wallace —and thank you very much.” "You’ve got something to thank him for,” chuckled Bennett.’ Galli smiled —he was, Wallace thought, the perfect mr/.i for his job—and went out of the room. Bennett looked thoughtfully at the whisky decanter, and Wallace replenished his glass. For the next ten minutes, the only sound in the room was Wallace s voice. He told the story of the happenings since he had arrived in London, without embellishing them and, in fact, leaving out some details that he did not consider relevant. But he listed his three callers —including the masked gunman—and the lanky man in grey who had shadowed him that night. When he finished, Mike Bennett said nothing, hut moved, very expressively, towards the table and the whisky. poured himself out a strong tot, and walked back to his chair, thoughtfully. Wallace watched him, smiling a little. From the first, he had liked the look of Mike Bennett, even if he had deplored his manners. Now he had had an opportunity of sitting opposite the man for ten minutes or more, and taking everything about him in, he had come to the conclusion that Bennett was a man likely to be useful in emergency, despite his absurdly rotund figure. He’was shrewd and—because he was on the staff of one of the big’ gest dailies in England—obviously capable and used to the unusual, in fact, It would have been difficult to have found a man more likely to be able to assess the value of the things that had happened. A policeman, Wallace imagined, would have been more stiff and formal; for a little while, lie didn’t- want formality; he wanted someone with whom he could talk reasonably, and as he knew not a soul la London, this opportunity seemed godsent. "We-ell,” said Bennett at last, scratching his head, slowly, "if 1 couldn’t see those bullet holes, Mr Wallace, 1 wouldn’t believe you.” Wallace slirugged his shoulders. "Well —you can see them. And here’s the gun that fired them.” He handed the gun across, and at the same time, showed the tear in his coat where the bullet had cut through; his skin had been nicked, but not seriously. "So ” "All right, I'm not doubting it,” said Bennett.. "Besides,” he eyed Jim a little awkwardly, "your father wasn’t exactly unknown to the press, Mr Wallace, although we didn't give him much publicity.” "No-o,” said Jim drily. ‘‘l suppose not. Well, that’s what happened. If there isn't the making of a flrstclass story for you in it, I’ll eat my hat.” Bennett grinned. "I don’t think you need do that,” he said, "but you mustn't lose sight of the fact that the show to-night might simply be an effort to scare the life out of you.” "Just to make sure—if they can—l leave England,” murmured Wallace. "There's something in r that, although those bullets -were rather close for a simple scare. But if they want to get me out of England—and they obviously do—it seems the real mystery is as Miss Clements says—at the Kensington House.” "Seems like it,” agreed Bennett. •‘Thinking of going there?” Wallace was; and it happened that Bennett knew the place well, and there was no need at all to look through the papers to find the address. = Five minutes later, they went out toa gether and taxied to Kerrell Street, i Kensington, at Number Seventeen of | which John Wallace had run his gambling hell. On the way, Jim learned his father's activities had been suspected for a long time, but that alter his death —that had come unexpectedly, a fact that seemed to encourage Evelyn Clements’ story and suspicion of murder —the police had not troubled to follow up their earlier work. There was little time for more than that before they reached the house. It was one of a number exactly the same, grey-faced, dingy and poorlylighted. Jim Wallace walked up the stone steps leading t<% the front door, thinking that it was a queer way to approach his own property; after all, the place was his. With-Bennett beside him, he waited for the door to open. He was prepared to find no-one in. for he had no information about the house, beyond what Evelyn Clements had told him. But he heard footsteps—light and quick—along the passage, and his lips set into a formal smile. A moment later liis smile was almost blasted from bis face; of all the shocks he had had I bat evening, this was the absolute limit. He stood and stared— I At the trim, beautiful Evelyn Cle-

An Exciting Mystery Story

meats, whose lace was drained of its colour as she saw and recognised the caller. CHAPTER VII The silence that followed that second meeting might have lasted lor ever; but for the presence of Mike Bennett, who saw something was wrong, and who half-guessed what it was. Wallace and the girl stood and stared, until Bennett grunted: ••Is something the matter?” His words broke the tension, and Jim’s body eased. But the girl still looked worried, and almost frightened. It was Wallace who spoke first. "Not exactly the matter,” he said, with a tight smile, "but 1 d.dn’t expect to find you here—Miss Clements." By then, the girl had recovered something of her poise, and she forced a smile that, if it was not convincing, at least showed her courage. She opened the door more widely, and stepped aside murmuring: “Well—you’d better come in.” “Ye-es,” said Wallace. His mind was seething. What on earth could he make of this? Why hadn't Evelyn Clements told him she was likely to be at the Kensington House? What did her presence here, after she admitted she had been out of his father’s employ for some time, mean? It was impossible to try and judge for himself, of course; that there was some explanation was certain, but whether he would be able to get at it that night was a different matter altogether. The trust he had felt in the girl had vanished completely. He had believed her call at the Scion to be entirely disinterested, but he would certainly take a lot of convincing, now, that it had been so. He felt winded, mentally and physically, as he stepped into the house that was part of his stran-ge inheritance. Miss Clements led them to a room opening from a long, narrow passage. Although it was warm, a small fire was burning in the grate and there were obvious signs that the house—this room particularly—was in daily use. Newspapers were on the table with a woman’s magazine; an easy chair was drawn up by the fire, while on a stool near it was a piece of knitting, obviously just laid down by the girl. It looked peaceful and homely. It seemed incredible that this was the house of mystery; that in it. his father had possibly been murdered, and that he had been shot at simply to try and prevent him from taking possession. Bennet was the only one of the trio who seemed at ease. He sat down on the edge of the armchair, and looked round, thoughtfully. Evelyn Clements walked, a little wearily, to another chair. She sat down as Wallace nodded. Then: "I—l’m Miry,” she said. "But when I saw you this evening I was quite sure you wouldn’t come here tonight, at least, and I wanted to stay—well—until to-morrow.” Wallace's lips tightened; she was telling, at best, a half-truth. The devil of tit was, he knew so little, and lie could not be sure that what he did know was the truth. He saw the uncertainty and the anxiety in her eyes and in her bearing. At least, she had [ the grace to be uncomfortable. But - —Wallace tried to \puzzlo out—why had she gone to such lengths to de- , ceive him? Why hadn’t she said, that i evening, that she was staving at the , house? ! He eyed her for a few minutes, glad ; that Bennett was satisfied to look on and listen. He felt he would have I snapped at the fat little man if he had started to speak. As he stood there [ his mind cleared, slowly, ' and as : slowly his lips curved into a smile. It I had often been said of Jim Wallace l that he was capable of seeing any joke —and sometimes a joke that "didn’t exist. The irony and the humour of [ this situation suddenly appealed to his ■ fancy, and he grinned openly. "Well,” he said, "I think you ought to talk more than that, don’t you? I And to tell me how much of that cock- : and-bull yarn you pitched at the hotel was true?” > Evelyn Clements’ chin went up a ; little. Whatever else, she had spirit, ■ and the combination of beauty and courage was a rare enough thing to l make even Bennett thoughtful, i "All of it was true,” she said. "I • didn't tell you I was staying here. I , didn’t think It was necessary ” i “Steady,” interrupted Wallace. “I’m prepared to believe the first part, but s not the second. You mean—you didn’t want me to know you were here?” She shrugged her shoulders a little. "Ye-es.” she said, "I suppose that’s right. But —” she was very pale, ; and her hands were clenched tightly , together, in front of her— "if you hadn’t come to-night, you need never have known, and it would have done no harm." . "N'o-o,” said Wallace, slowly. He l was puzzled, more than he had been l in the first few minutes. Somehow, i the more he looked at the girl, the more he felt the return of that con- ’ fidence he had first felt in her. He : gained the impression she .was making a big effort to keep a stiff upper lip. All the time, Mike Bennett lounged on the edge of the chair and watched, t without speaking. There was a grin i on his lips that might have meant tiny- : thing, while his right hand strayed to his ginger thatch from time to time, . and he scratched his head thoughtfully—a habit as firmly bred in him as [ Jim Wallace's trick of running his . hand through his hair. 1 "Everything else apart,” Wallace . said suddenly, "the thing we need to • get at, Miss Clements, is—why are . you here? We’ll forget the rest.” » She coloured a little, hut spoke i quickly and steadily, t "I'm here for a very simple reason,” f she said. "N'o-one has worried. The solicitors—Cordins—had no idea I was ! j out of your father’s employ before he died, and they let me stay here after--3 wards, pending your arrival. You see—” her voice quivered a little, just e then—"for the time being, I haven’t anywhere else to go.” 3 be continued.) [, __