HELD TO RANSOM.

King Country Chronicle, Volume V, Issue 363, 24 May 1911, Page 7

HELD TO RANSOM.

B> S. IT. \irncff, Author of "The Castle Mystery," etc.

Or, The llnnclits of Birmingham. Being a Strnngo Chronicle from tho F'ictc Lc;:- of John Lycn, Eluci:!a<:or ; Known as the " Lien of the Lew."

PART 4. Lyon drew in his breath with a long whistle as he laid the extraordinary epistle down. " Whew ! We are dealing with the boldest vagabonds who ever turned their wits to roguery. Where is Carisbrook House ?" " Thorn shows their infernal ingenuity. It is an empty mansion abutting upon the park and the lawn is the si::e of a cricket field. If the ransoms are placed in the centre of tho lawn they will be out of sight of the trees which fringe it, and there is no nearer cover."

" And how are the bandits going to get hold of the money ?" " With an aeroplane, I presume," the chief grunted. "I can believe then capable of anything. How, in the first place, did they manage to kidnap grown men and women, without being seen or even heard by a soul?"

" That way madness lies," the detective said, shrugging his shoulders. " I have smoked nearly a gross of Russian cigarettes over the problem and am no nearer a solution. Are your detectives on the trail ?"

" On the trail ? The fools are utterly at their wits' end." " Then I must see what I can do," the Lion of the Law rejoined with a twinkle in his eyes. He had been snubbed by the authorities too often not to seize upon a chance of reprisal when it came his waj. " Although I am but a poor, mean amateur detective, I am not yet at my feeble wits' end. I have found out the haunt where the victims are concealed, and I have seen the chief plotters." " Then why, in the name of all that's good and bad, don't you take a file of men and raid the place ?" almost shouted the chief in a tone of incredulity. " I will have you arrested as aiding and abetting if you arc not careful." " If we raided the den we should almost inevitably lose all the criminals," Lyon responded. " The prisoners are safe until midnight, anyway, and I prefer to work on my own lines. You may hear from me directly."

" Won't you tell me why you went to Glasgow ? Man —" " I went because I was taken," the elucidator laughed, opening the door. " Good-bye." He cut off a loud " hut " by slamming the door gently, chuckling as he descended the stairs, and made his way through to Corporation Street. A wash and brush-up at the barber's transformed his appearance, and when he boarded a tram-car a few minutes later, he was looking as fresh as a new coat of paint.

Truth to tell, his evasive answers to the chief's questions had not been without reason. By a sudden inspiration he believed he had added the last link to the chain which he had been gradually welding, and he wished to put his idea to the test at once. If he accepted any help from the force he knew where the credit would go to and he did not intend the work he had done to be crowned with laurels for some other person. At Aston station he alighted and sought a garage. His own car had been left at the gates of Sutton Park, and he had not thought to inquire after its whereabouts. This, however, was a small matter, for the hired vehicle suited his purpose equally well—to get to Carisbrook House as soon as possible. He did not fear any immediate danger from the people on the yacht from whom he had escaped ; having full steam up, they would doubtless leave their moorings at once sooner than face the risk of arrest to send warning to the conspirators at Sutton. Plaving obtained the direction from a postman at Erdington he soon found the vacant house which had been named in the impudent message from the self-styled bandits. It was one of those vast old mansions, too big for modern families, which maj often he seen in the Midland and Northern counties. From chimneys to cellars it was in a state of decay. The walls were crumbling, the windows devoid of glass, and the doors dropping away from the rusty hinges. The park-like grounds had returned to a primeval state of vegetation, weeds and aristocrats of the hothouse hobnobbing together in a socialistic brotherhood. A big black-

painted board by. the central gateway gave notice that the land was to be sold by auction for building purposes. Apparently the auction had proved abortive, as a paper strip—" For sale by private treaty" —hinted.

Leaving his car in a quiet turning, Lyon surmounted the gate and made his way up to the house. The door was locked, but a skeleton key disposed of lis feei)le pretensions to being a barrier, and he soon found himself free 10 commence the search which !ip had come to make. A more thorough hunt, had never been nndertahen in the history of mankind. On iiis hands and liuees, with a mai-nif; nig gins;; to his right eye anil an electric torch in one hand he carefully scrutinised the floor literally inch by inch. His satisfaction increased with every minute that passed. The pounded earth wa.s hard nearly as granite, but in the grey dust which covered ,it, he could discern hundreds of footprints, recently made by feet of many shapes and sizes. The fact inspired him to even ereater cfiortb, and his minute thur-

oughness met with a speedy reward. In the remote darkness of a wine-bin he at. length found the outline of a trap-door. Pie spent a few minutes in examining it, and then hurried away. If the bandits had any spies keeping watch upon the premises, ne wished to foster an impression that he had met with no success, and with this object in view he adopted a dejected aspect as he returned t.c his car. By his expression one would have thought that he had lost a near relative at the very least. An hour later, however, he might have been seen leisurely entering the park bj the central gateway. Having made certain by various ruses, that nobody was following, he went direct to the hollow oak by which he had previously entered the subterranean vaults, and mounted nimbly. As before, he hung at full length, and dropped to alight safe and sound on the mattress. The conspirators had taken 110 warning from his previous entrance ; the tunnel was deserted, and but two of the lanterns were burning. Not a sound penetrated from either direction, and Lyon after a momentary hesitation, started off to the right—the way he had taken on his previous visit. He judged —a surmise which afterwards proved correct —that the other continuation of the tunnel merely led to the secret door in the wood hy which Nicholson and the Spanish woman had vanished when he was endeavouring to shadow them. Cautiously, step by step, he made his way into the dense fog of darkness.

The tunnel narrowed as he proceeded, finally resolving itself into a passage which could be spanned by a man's arm. Before he had been walking long a diffused patch of light grew out of the gloom ahead. As he drew nearer he saw that it proceeded from an oval opening which gave entrance to a large cavern. The illumination came from lanterns stuck at intervals along the walls, all of them burning brightly. Softly as a mouse he stole to the entrance and peered through. He had been prepared for something of the kind, but nevertheless the vastnesgi of the place amazed him. The roof was supported by shaved treetrunks, and these in turn had been propped by shorter pieces of timber. As he gazed round he perceived several openings in the wall, evidently the entrances to other tunnels.

At first glance he had imagined the cave to be deserted, but as his eyes grew more accustomed to the light, he perceived a man seated at a rough wooden table, busily engaged in writing. Lyon smiled grimly as he recoguised his old enemy Nicholson. He might have a chance of evening up the score.

Revolver in readiness he strode swiftly across the intervening space, and brought one hand down with a thwack upon the man's back.

He had heard of men " jumping out of their skins," and Nicholson certainly came near performing that interesting feat. The force of his start left him limp and trembling, and for a full minute he gazed in a fascinated way at the detective without realising the meaning of his presence.

" I have come to continue our little conversation," the Lion of the Law said, seating himself upon the edge of the table. " There were a lot of questions I wanted to ask, and you interrupted rudely the last time I was here. In the first place, how many exits are there from this den?" Nicholson gasped, a quick ebb of crimson rushing into his cheeks. His starting eyes held a mixture of amazement, fear, and incredulity. Lyon's very coolness nearly frightened him out of his wits. He stared nervously back at the tunnel mouth, as if he expected to see a horde of policemen waiting there. John Lyon recalled his wandering thoughts expeditiously by tapping on his forehead with the pistol-barrel. " Answer my questions," he said, coldly. " I shall shoot you dead at the first sign of revolt. How many exits are there from this cavern ?" The man licked his dry lips with a tongue as dry and answered wildly : " Three."

"So I thought. Are you alone here —not counting your captives, of course ?"

" Dolores —Signora Navarro is in the cabin with the< girls," "Good ! One final question. Haw did you manage the kidnapping so quietly ?" Nicholson was regaining his selfpossession in some measure, and he hesitated, a nasty glitter in his eyes. The elucidator levelled the pistol, and his reply came tripping Instantly from his blue lips.

"We had a motor," he blurted out half angrily. " And a powerful drug. We followed them about until we caught them in a lonely road,

and kidnapped the kids by force. The grown-up people were enticed to look into the car in various ways." " And then, I suppose, you simply drove to Carisbrook House, and brought the victims in through the trap there ?" A nod was the answer. " Humph ! I admire the boldness of your roguery. How did you think you were going to abstract the ransom from the lawn ? I suppose you guessed that an army of police would hover in the bushes ?" "We have a secret tunnel which

leads directly to the centre of the lawn," was tho sullen answer, ''Curse you ! How much more dc you want to know ?" " Nothing else at present. I will handcuff you and see that —■" The elucidator's speech came to an abrupt end, and at the same instant a triumphant shout rang out from th£ lips of the captive. Stepping forward to carry his words into effect, he had tripped over a stool which lay on the ground and, staggered forward. Before he

could recover himself Nicholson baa leaped with the ferocity of a wild beast, waving an ebony ruler in hi? band. Crack ! It descended upor Lyon's skull with a pulpy thud, fine he saw a thousand stars as he fell upon the ground. Twirling rrn~<l lie caught his assailant's wrist as the scoundrel rt.ooped tc strike ajrsin ar.d by sheer force pulled him from his feet and downward. Locked in a death-grip they writhed over and over, fighting lik.2 two fiends. Gradually the Lion of the Law felt that he was being overpowered. The blow upon his head had nearly shattered the sense from his brain and for a moment he actually swooned. When the mist ol sickness lifted he was fiat upon the ground. Nicholson was kneeling on his chest, and in one hand he held a revolver. His eves flamed with a. demonical passion as he ground it into the detective's forehead.

" Die, meddling fool !" he grated. " Aha, you show fear at last !" Lyon, with the man's iron grip upon his throat, strove in vain to shout a warning. Truly he showed fear, but it v;as not for himself. Over Nicholson's shoulder 'fce had seen Dolores dart into the cavern. In an instant she had realised the tragedy that was impending. A scream rang from her lips.

" Vile wretch," she hissed. " Would you kill the only man in all the world —the man the world worships —the man I love ?"■

Stooping swiftly she lifted Iter black skirt and whipped a. dagger from hen garter. With right hand uplifted, a yellow light of passion in her lynx eyes, she flung herself forward. her lips quivering as if she breathed a curse.

Once ! twice ! thrice ! Three times the weapon was buried to the hilt in Nicholson : s i body ere . Lyon! could make a single movement. With a spasmodic effort, the villain rose and stagTrered. His fingers, closing with a dying grip upon the trigger of the revolver, sent a single message of death flashing from the muzzle. A scream followed the deafening report. The Spanish woman tottered limply upon the body of the man she had murdered, and lay still.

" She loved me !" John Lvon murmured again and again, sinking hack in a weakness that came as much from horror as from the mortal sickness of his swoon. " And but for her secret passion I might be—good God !"

He broke off his words with an exclamation which revealed a curious conflict of emotions —pity, horror, amazement, and dread all linked in one. Like a "blind man he staggered up and groped his way to the tunnel from which he had come. The epilogue to the tragedy of the Bandits of Birmingham had still tc he written ; but the police would do that. THE END.