THE MYSTERY OF A MARBLE MAN.

King Country Chronicle, Volume V, Issue 364, 27 May 1911, Page 7

THE MYSTERY OF A MARBLE MAN.

SOLVING THE SECRETS OF A SHEFFIELD CRIME.

Being a Strange Chronicle frorta the Note-bcok of John Lyon, Eluciciator, Known as the " Lion cf the Law."

By the Author of " The Castl® Mystery," etc., etc.

CHAPTER I. A TRAIL OF BLOOD. " Caesar !" John Lyon muttered, drawing back into the shadow of an entry. " That box looks confoundedly like a coffin. I hope I haven't plunged into mystery almost before my feet have touched Sheffield dust!" The circumstances were certainly peculiar. Arriving at Victoria Station soon after midnight the detective was making his way through a thoroughfare close to Wicker Lane, when the sound of a low whistle, three times repeated, brought him to a halt. Swiftlj as the whistle came and went, it left in its wake a suggestion of- stealth, secrecy, and intrigue. Lyon's professional instincts were aroused immediately —they were never more than half dormant —and he shrank back into the ebon shadows, cast by the houses, his eyes fixed keenly on the direction whence the noise had come. He had not been mistaken in his surmise that something underhand was in progress.

Suddenly the cloaked form of a man evolved from the porch of a house to the left. Stealing out into the lane with the quietude of a nocturnal cat, he remained motionless for a few moment?, peering up and down the thoroughfare with the caution of a conspirator. The moonlight glinting on his moving eyes, showed them to be aglow with excitement.

In spite of his care he passed over Lyon's still form. At the end of a minute his fingers rose to his lips, and another series of three whistles cooed on the stillness.

The signal was answered immediately.

A door creaked faintly as it hastilyopened. The noise of men grunting and stumbling under some heavy weight reached Lyon's ears, and he saw three men emerge from the gloom bearing between them a long, coffin-shaped box. Moving at a brisk pace they passed almost' noiselessly up the street, ascended the steps of a house fifty yards distant from the one out of which they had appeared, and vanished. " Queer !" the detective muttered. The night-silence had once more resumed sway over the sleeping city. Only the shrill distant hoot of a train-whistle marred the perfect stillness. Saving for the man who remained crouching in the road, Lyon might have been alone in the vast human hive for all evidence to the contrary.

An instant's thought sent him out into the middle of the street.

Stepping forward he brought his hand down heavily on the shoulder of the* cloaked man.

That worthy came very near performing the oft-talked-of feat of jumping out of his skin. The start he gave made his teeth rattle together like castanets, and an involuntary groan rose in his gorge as he swung round and faced the elucidator, displaying a visage from which every speck of blood had faded, leaving it white as newlymade paper. "John Lyon !" he hissed, in falsetto. The detective felt a tinge of surprise, though he did not allow it to appear on his features. " You know me, then," he said, tightening his grasp on the man's arm. "I am sorry that the pleasure is not mutual. Come nearer to the lamp, and perhaps I may recollect your face." The midnight prowler resisted violently, regaining his self-possession in some measure during the elucidator's speech. " Let me go, or I shall shout for the police," he sibilated, fiercely. "It is no crime to stand in a Sheffield street at midnight, I fancy. Let go, you brute !" " I want you to answer a few questions > ere I let you go," he returned with a mocking inflection. " For instance, where have you seen me before that you recognise me so easily ?" " Are you not a celebrity ?" was the sullen reply. " I have seen your face in photographs—nothing more."

" Humph ! Perhaps you have reason to study the portraits of famous detectives." Lyon's voice was dry, his tone was threatening. " I will put what we might call a leading question. What was in that box which your accomplices carried into yonder house ?" Again a start communicated itself to the elucidator i .by way of the shoulder which he gripped so tightly. " liiix ?" his prisoner echoed, faintly. " I saw no box. What do you mean ?" " I mean that you are a liar. Three men carried a coffin-shaped box from yonder house and disappeared-—" Lyon's voice faltered suddenly, then died away in a whispered exclamation. As he spoke his eyes had followed the course which the men had taken, and he had become aware that it was marked out by a series of dark blotches on the road and pavement. Still maintaining his hold upon the shivering captive he stepped forward and stooped to examine the stains. It was a trail of blood ! His face was cold and hard as a mask of steel when he straightened' up. His eyes sparkled with a lighl *liat was diamond-like in its clear-

ness, and his jaw set with a snap. " Come !" lie ejaculated quietly. " No more nnnsen.se. That is blood upon the pavement, and I tell you it dripped from the box which those men carried along. Murder has been done." " I tell you I know nothing of it!" his prisoner cried, shuddering violently, and keeping his face averted from the ominous stains on the footpath. "You are mad or drunk, or both. Let me go, or I shall shout for help." Lyon's reply was to swing the fellow violently under the pallid flare of the gas lamp. He found that he was slight and foreign-looking in appearance, jwith a long, lean visage, full red lips, and dark eyes shaded by long curling lashes. A moment later his grasp relaxed, and a low-voiced cry burst from between his set teeth. His captive had commenced weeping with deep convulsive sobs.

"Great Caesar!" the detective muttered ; " it is a woman." Almost involuntarily he loosened his hold as he made the discovery.

Instantly she whirled about and before he could realize her motive had darted up the steps of the house from which she "had first emerged.

With an oath he started forward. Too late ; the front door slammed shut with a crash which aroused a turmoil of . outraged echoes, and he Tound himself alone, with naught but the trail of blood to convince him that he had not been the victim of a delusion.

The situation was a difficult one. Hesitating, he stood staring at the grim stains sparkling like gems as the moonshine flashed upon them. Should he follow the disguised woman, or attempt to enter the house where the mysterious box had been carried ?

It did not take him long to decide on the latter course. John Lyon never cared for those cases which brought him in conflict with female criminals, and he was only too glad of the second alternative."

A few seconds elapsed whilst he investigated his revolver and electric torch, making sure that they were in order. Then he made his way to the tenement where the three men had disappeared, and descended the steps into the area. It was a building of a bygone style of architecture —tall and sombre, with a long flight of stone steps leading to the front dooi and the breakfast-room and kitchen below the level of the street. Even in the semi-gloom it was easy to perceive that it had fallen on evil days. The woodwork had long been guiltless of paint, the bell- had been wrenched from its socket and left hanging, and there were a dozen other such mute evidences of poverty. A fly-spotted and faded card in the transom gave the tidings that apartments were to be let. Lyon took in these details with a flash of an eye as he descended into the rubbish-littered area.

He also saw that not a single gleam of light gave token of life within the building. Moreover, not so much as the creak of a stair broke the silence. Evidently the conspirators did not want their movements to be seen by their neighbours.

A faint clinking sounded as a skeleton key groped in the lock. Then came a dull thud as the lock shot back. Grasping the knob gently, the detective turned it by fractions of an inch, and was presently able to step softly into the kitchen. Closing the door behind him he stood motionless on the threshold, listening. CHAPTER 11. The stillness was puzzling. Not more than ten minutes had passed since the men had carried the box into the house, and yet the premises were enwrapped in a stillness as intense as one might expect to find in a place of the dead. After a momentary hesitation the Lion of the Law pressed the bulb of his torch, tilling the kitchen with a sudden lightning-flare of light. It was but ill-furnished, in keeping with the miserable exterior of the house, and the remains of a meagre supper were upon the table, in the shape of a stale cottage loaf, and a basin of dripping, which had seen its best days some time previously Lyon found the scent a strong one — a little too strong for his taste — and stepped over to the door. The passage beyond was in darkness, and nobody sought to stay his course. In turn he visited the break-fast-room and the back regions, without bringing anything of interest to light. More than ever puzzled, he then set foot upon the stairs. "It will be beyond a joke if by any absurd error I have entered the wrong house," he thought as he mounted. " I have never made such an error in my life, but 'tis human to err. Ah !"

Arriving in the hall, he concluded his reflections with a hushed ejaculation partly of satisfaction.

A trial of minute blood-spots was visible on the worn oil-cloth—silent evidence that he was still upon the right track. Focusing his light upon the floor, he proceeded to follow the trail.

It led directly to the stairs, showing plainly on the dirty matting with which they were covered, and upward. Lyon mounted swiftly, swearing gently to himself as the ancient stairs burst into a crescendo of creaks and groans, if any person were astir in the house, his arrival could no longer pass unnoticed. Yet he arrived on the landing without interruption. The noises had sounded in his ears as loud as pistol shots, but they did not appear to have attracted attention. In all the vast silence, the only sound which reached his oars was tin hurried staccato heat of his own watch. He stood lor a secoDd listen-

ins:, and the--: once more followed the grim trail of Mood. Upwards it led him, to another landing and then up air ain to the attics. The bedroom doors were all closed ; no lights burned behind therr and no sound of sleeping penetrated lo liis era's ; the whole premises were engulfed in a stillness as unnerving as it seemed unnatural.

Arrived at the t.ot> floor, he passed

rapidly into the attic which had apparently been the goal of his lona chase. Inured to sensation as hj( was, he felt his heart give a/ leap as he saw that the blood-drops led across to a box—the box—and there ceased.

The apartment was not furnished. unless a single three-legged chair and a trestle-bed minus the Redding can be taken as furnishings. The floor was bare, the walls patched and stained with wet and the shadows o! removed pictures, and the ccilinc consisted merely of rough rafters o! the roof, with mats of spidcr-wer. filling all the crevices. The place looked eerie and weird in the soft shimmer of moonlight —a lit scene [or mystery and murder.

The detective, however, seldom allowed romance to intrude upon his investigations,He ci-ossed directly to the bos, and subjected it to a searching examination. As has been said, it was shaped litje a. eofiin and fashioned of The exterior was perfectly plain, saving for a device representing two interlinked circles, stamped upon the lid. Scrutinise it closely as he might, Lyon could find no mark of blood upon it, or any opening through which the track he had followed could have dripped. He wrenched at the lid, only to find that it was bound with brass, and immovable. Nothing short of a screwdriver and hammer would move it. He next lifted tentatively at the box, and found the weight to be enormous. It was as much as he could do to raise one end from the ground.

"Strange !" he muttered, wrinkling his brows. " I am in a nasty corner if the truth be known. If 1 stay here I can do no possible good, and if I go for the police this bos may vanish in the meanwhile. ] wonder when a constable will beat this way ?" Lifting the latch he opened the window and found himself to be at the back of the house. Squalid backways lay beneath him, silvered by the fairy touch of the moon into s semblance of beauty. He stared downward for a minute, his eyes suddenly fixed ; then he bit back a low laugh of bewilderment. Below, nprearcd against the brick wall of an outhouse was a second case, the verj- counterpart of the one he had first examined. Moreover hj( could see that a dark trail of spots led up to it and that the botton: was resting in a pool which grev and spread even as he watched it. "This is a puzzler," he thought. " I have evidently followed tht wrong trail. Yet it led from thi front door, unless I was dreaming Hallo !"

Lyon had been uttering his refiec tions in an undertone, his eyes fixec on the neighbouring house. He fiu ished with another cry as the figure of a man came slithering along th< roof, blackly silhouetted against th< star-powdered sky. For the tirsf time the detective noticed that i rope had been stretched between th< opposite house and the one nexi door and he disappeared by way o

the skylight, leaving Lyon staring ir utter bewilderment.

"Caesar!" he ejaculated at last " I seem to have got into a funnj neighbourhood. What next, I won der ? My unfortunate hair will turr a most violent shade of gre>, if 1 try to make head or tail of this. 1 think I had better make an effort to discover if those three men are on the premises. If not I ;\hal' open those chests and see for myseli what they contain."

He set off at once on his tour o: investigation, for he felt that enougl time had been wasted. There was i. sinister hint of crime in all that ht had witnessed, although he had not succeeded in bringing anything of importance to light. Torch in hand, he went from rooir to room, first knocking on the doon then submitting them to a thorough investigation. He even opened i\Y. the wardrobes and cupboards, with a thoroughness that did not meet with any reward. The apartments were ah furnished in a sparse fashion, but there was no sign of human presence.

At last he . found himself descending to the hall again, intent on finishing his search in the 'downstair rooms. He had driven up all hopes of meeting anybody ; his hunt now was for letters or other addressed documents, and so far had proved futile. There was not even a photo graph to give a hint of the identity of the tenant of the mysterious house.

A surprise of the most startling nature awaited him below. As lie set foot in the hall a door opened qvickly, and a female figure emerged into the glowing circle oi his torch. To be Continued.