“The Kerrell St. Affair”

Waikato Times, Volume 122, Issue 20464, 2 April 1938, Page 27 (Supplement)

“The Kerrell St. Affair”

By LIONEL HAMILTON

CHAPTER VII. — (Continued.) i A silence followed her words that , was deep and impressive. Even Mike . Bennett seemed impressed by her j simple explanation, and Jim Wallace , felt—not for the first time that day — ; completely winded... ““I haven’t any- 1 where else to go.’’ The words told j their own story, but somehow they 1 dU not fit In with the facts. She had been well-dressed that evening, at : the Scion. She looked well-dressed. I now, although her frock was plain and j simple. There was no suggestion of I i poverty about her, but if she was j speaking the truth, she could not afford to rent a flat—or to take lodg- i lass. „ I Ten minutes later, Wallace and Ben- | nett had Miss Evelyn Clements’ story—and it says a great deal for the impressiveness of the girl’s narration that both men believed her. After leaving John Wallace’s employ, at the instigation of her fiance, she had been unable to get other work. She had coloured a little when she said that her two years with John Wallace was little or no recommendation to other employers. She could have obtained work of sorts, but usually because of her looks rather than her capabilities, and 6he had refused offers from greasy Jews and equally unpleasant if more attractivelooking Aryans. Slowly, her capital had dwindled. A month before Jim j Wallace’s arrival In England, 6he had gone to the Kensington house at the request of the Cordins, to give them information about John s affairs—for the older man had not employed anyone else after Evelyn Clements had left him. She had seen the opportunity of staying at the Kensington house, and, trading on the soliictors’ belief that she had been in John Wallace’s employ up to the time of his death, she had stayed on, drawing on a stock of tinned provisions, and thus able to jive comfortably. The Hampstead address she had given Jim Wallace was where she had stayed for a few weeks, before returning to Kensington. “The real truth,” she said, finally, “Is that I’m broke, Mr Wallace. It sounds very bald, but there it is. And 1 was only too pleased to make things t as easy as possible for myself.” Jim “nodded, thoughtfully. “Am}—your fiance? He’s no objection?” “He doesn’t know,” said Evelyn Clements, with a rueful smile. “When 1 meet him it’s at Hampstead, or somewhere in town.” Jim nodded again. He realised this girl would be too proud to tell her fiance of her plight —although he cursed, inwardly, at the thought that a man so obviously blind to facts as the man ‘Dick’ should have won the affections of this girl. But cursing didn’t help. The story was before him, now, and there was little in it that reflected to the discredit of Evelyn Clements. “Well,” he said, smiling that smile that made him so attractive, and unconsciously warming the heart of the girl who faced him, “I’m not going to worry about it, Miss Clements. But —if you know, as you’ve told me, that the mystery about my father centres round this house, didn’t you feel squeamish about staying here?” Evelyn Clements smiled a little grimly/ She pointed to the window, a small insert in the wall, through which it would be impossible for anyone to enter, and then to a settee by the wall. “Yes. But when the door was locked, I was safe enough here. I slept on the settee. It wasn’t—enjoyable, always ” Bennett frowned. Jim Wallace looked Inquisitive. “You mean —you’ve heard things, at night?” “Ye-es.” The girl hesitated, as though she was not 6ure of herself. “Sometimes I’ve thought It Imagination, but I’m almost 6ure there have been people here, during the night. I’ve no proof. The rooms haven't been disturbed, as far as I was able to see. But I’ve heard sounds ” It was a tense moment that followed. The last words were hardly out of her mouth than a sound came, from outside. It was the opening of i; ,joor —softly, stealthily. A moment later the door closed, and footsteps echoed softly along the passage. There wasn’t a shadow of doubt about it. Both men, and the girl, turned towards the door of the room, which was ajar. Very plainly, they heard the newcomer approaching— Silently, tensely, Jim Wallace moved across the room; his right hand was In his pooket, the fingers grasping the butt of the gun he had “won” earlier in the evening. The only sound came from outside, and the footsteps grew nearer every 6eoond. CHAPTER VIII. Wallace could only estimate where the intruder was, in the passage, but by the time he reached the door he was fairly sure the other had passed it. He reached the handle, slowly, and pulled the door open, inch by inch. There was no light in the passage beyond, but the dim glow from the room showed enough for what he needed The intruder was a man. He was walking with one hand touching the passage wall, as though guiding himself through the darkness. He was tall, but not big; it might be the morose-laced man who had shadowed him, Wallace thought. He pulled his gun from his pocket, and as he had it free, he stopped being cautious. He swung the door open, and his voice whipped out — Keep quite still—and put your hands uo i” The man in the hall stopped, as though stung. But after the first shock of surprise, he disobeyed the order, and turned round, very slowly, so slowly that Wallace was prepared for trouble, although he noticed one queer thing—the man was still touching the wall with his right hand, as though afraid to give up its support. The seconds that followed seemed like an age, but they passed quickly, in reality, and in them Mike Bennett showed that he was still alive. With a muttered, “Stop here,” to Evelyn Clements, he went out of the room, squeezing past Wallace, and reached the light switch in the passage. A , moment later there was a flood of light, and Wallace saw the intruder for the first time. Perhaps it was because he had been I sated of shocks that evening; per- > haps it was because he had been partly warned by the slow, clumsy movements of the man. In any case.

An Exciting Mystery Story

the surprise which he felt he saw the man’s face was a mild one. But Bennett, from behind, gasped a profanity. For the Intruder was blind! t There v/as no doubt about It, so far as they could see; he did not wear glasses, but his eyes were all white, as though he had no pupils; and he 6eemed to stare towards them with that tensity 60 frequently found in blind men. His voioe was a croak. “Who is that?” he demanded, still standing and seeming to stare, until j Wallace shivered & little, and lowered his gun. I “I don’t think that matters,” Wal- | lace said, keeping his voice steady with an effort. “Who are you, my friend?” j The blind man cleared his throat “I am Sharman,” he said, as though expecting them to recognise tha name. “Sharman—here again, after Wallace. One day—” his hand left the wall for the first time, and he took a step forward; his face was twisted with a malevolence and hatred that was terrible to see, ‘‘One day I’ll find him! And when I do he’ll die, d’you see? I’ll kill him •” The voice rose almost to a scream. Jim Wallace shivered as he felt the tenseness of the man’s hatred for his father, and now he was more confused than ever at the queer things that happened at this house, and the affairs of his father before he had died. He felt nonplussed, right out of his depths; these things weren’t normal. ~ Itfjtj It was Bennett w r ho recovered hla self-control. He stepped forward,’ and he was smiling—as If the blind man could see him. “All right, Sharman,” he said, cheerfully. “Wallace isn’t here now—you've nothing to worry about. Anyhow—hadn’t you heard he was dead?” “Dead?” The blind man’s lips twisted. “Dead—no more dead than I am, my clever fellow. Do you think yon can put Sharman off by lying to him. Wallace hasn’t paid, yet, for—” his hands trembled as he raised them, and his forefingers pointed towards his eyes—“ This. He caused me to become blind, and all my life I will search for him ” Wallace felt a sickening sensation at the pit of his stomach, but Mike Bennett didn’t seem worried. “All he said. “But have it your own way, Sharman. Still, even if Wallace was here—and he isn’t, I tell i you—you couldn’t do anything to- | night, “while we re around. Could I you?” “No. There was no expression, j now, in the blind man’s face. It was : like a blank mask. j “That’s good,” said Bennett, with forced geniality. He took another step < forward. “I’m going to take your • j arm—you’ll be safe enough then. And we'd better get you home, hadn’t we?” I Sharman said nothing, but he ali lowed Bennett to lead him along the S passage, without a protest. Bennett ; looked at Wallace, and his expression ■ spoke volumes, although all he said was: “I’ll see to him, old man—you stay here until I come back.” “Right,’’ said Jim Wallace, for there was nothing else he could do. But his mind was in a ferment as the ! door closed on the blind intruder, and he wondered, not for the first time, : whether he was on his head or his heels. He hardly knew whether to laugh or not when at last he turned back into the room where Evelyn Clements had been waiting, and he found her coolly and calmly preparing coffee. The kettle was boiling on the fire, and again he had that impression of peace i and homliness that had assailed him when he had, first entered the room. , Evelyn Clements had obviously recovered her composure. | “I thought,” she said, with a smile, I “That the least I could do in your ! own home was to offer you coffee, Mr ' Wallace. Will you have a cup?” , | “I will,” said Jim Wallace, and he , ; sat down heavily In a chair near the j fire. “This Is getting—well, more I than the limit. Did you hear what | happened ou* there?” j The girl nodded; for a moment he , \ caught sight of the obvious anxiety ’ | in her eyes, and he saw the skin of , | her hands was stretched until the knuckles gleamed white. “Yes,” she said. “It was—Blind Sharman.” “So you know him?” “He used to come here often" Evelyn Clements’ voice was low, and as she 6poke she poured out coffee, interrupting her words to ask him what he liked to sweeten the cup. “Your father and he were good friends for a while ” “How did Sharman become blind?” Wallace's \oice was stony. He /as thinking of the wastrel he had known, fifteen years before, and wondering what other hellish discoveries would be made before his inheritance was fully established. “It was some kind of accident,” j Evelyn said. “Sharman always blamed your father, but he became—well, uni hinged—afterwards, and he's never been able to explain anything.” j “He comes here often?" j “He's been twice before, while I’ve I been alone,” said Evelyn Clements. | “I'm not afraid of him, really, but : there’s something terrible about the j thought that he comes here always to I try and have his revenge—as he think* I .—on a dead man.” | Wallace nodded; there was some- | thing horrible in the thought, and he was beginning to wonder Just how | many more bizarre complications there would be before some sort of explanation was obtained. Now that the girl knew the blind man he was less concerned; Sharman had been frightening, but he was obviously harmI less. i They drank their coffee, without ! speaking for a few minutes. Wallace felt rested, mentally and physically. He watched the girl as she took hi* cup and refilled it, and he told himself that her nerve was wonderfully good. She was steady and calm. Well—she must be, to stand this place alone, at nights. There was i something ghostly about the house; : even now he was wondering whether anyone was watching him, and the • sound of coal dropping from the grate made him jump. He wished the place had not been part and parcel of hie inheritance At the same moment he had a , ridiculous wish that Miss Evelyn Cloi ments was part of it. ! tTo be continued.)