THE MYSTERY OF A MARBLE MAN.

King Country Chronicle, Volume V, Issue 366, 3 June 1911, Page 7

THE MYSTERY OF A MARBLE MAN.

Being a Strange Chronicle from the Note-book of John Lyon, Elucidator, Known as the " Lion of the Law."

By S. H. Agnew, Author of "The Castle Mystery," etc.

PART 3. Ten minutes later, in a condition closely bordering on utter bewilderment, he found himself once more in the kitchen, having worked through every apartment in the house without discovering a sign of the presence of the girl or her father. They had vanished in a manner that savoured of magic, and he found himself beginning to doubt the evidence of his own senses.

A cautious glance through the front window showed him that the automobile was still waiting, standing feeble and pulseless under the feeble glow of a lamp. The chauffeur maintained his appearance of watchfulness alternately staring at the house and from end to end of the quiet lane. More confounded than he would have cared to admit, Lyon decided to tackle the chaffeur. The man eyed him curiously as he approached, but t did not seem unfriendly. He was apparently under the impression that Lyon was concerned in the extraordinary l mystery which was wreathed about the two houses.

"Who lives in that house?" the detective asked abruptly, indicating No. 21 with a jerk of his thumb.

The chaffeur twisted his thin lips into a saturnine grin.

" A marble man, p'raps," he answered, cryptically. "Or per'aps Mees.May Temple live there. It is all a case of what you think." Lyon produced a sovereign from his pocket. J| and spun it carelessly in the air. It's glitter brought an answering gleam to the beady orbs of the Swiss.

"I do not know pre-cise-ly who live there," he added with some reluctance. "It is supposed to be Mrs. Dyer, but I mock myself of that name. It is all what yon call a blind. I have seen men there—many of them. One—two—three men. It is per'aps that they all live there, and per'aps not." The detective pressed the coin into the ail-too-willing palm, and turned away. Whether or no the man's ignorance was real or feigned, it was obvious that nothing more could be extracted from him.

The rubber-soled tread of a police constable brought a sudden end to Lyon's reflections and almost simultaneously the engines of the big motor i-aced into action. Then came the nerve-raclting jar as the cßaffeur threw in the clutch with a bang, and an instant later the car had whirled round the corner and disappeared. The lion of The law turned to meet a white glare of light from the policeman's lantern. Behind it a pair of suspicious eyes scrutinised him closely. The presence of a motor in such a street was peculiar, and the officer was plainly curious. " Who are you ?" he demanded, stopping squarely in Lyon's path. " Was that your car ?" " I am afraid not. I never saw it before in my life." " What are you doing here ?" " Wishing you weren't with me."

The constable grunted dubiously. "I dessaj. You'd better clear oil sharp, or I shall arrest you as a suspicious character." " That's nice of you," Lyon returned jeeringly. " I'll go as you

particularly wish it. I may mention that my name is John Lyon, and that you may see my portrait at head-quarters if you like to inquire for it. Good-night !" Ignoring a cry from the startled ronstable he strode swiftly away, nnd soon found himself in the purlieus of Nursery Street. Seating himself on a shadowed doorstep he lit a Russian cigarette and so long as it lasted remained wrapped in meditation.

A sigh of momentary despair rose to his lips when at length he cast the glowing end of tobacco aside. Many

•ind curious his cases had been, but Nov paled to significance beside the. tailzie in which he had so unexpectedly been involved.

He was rising, with intent to re- ! sume his investigations, when he felt : a hand upon his shoulder. As he ; straightened up a pair of lips came close to his left ear, and breathed : "He holds him with his skinny hand. 'There was a ship,' quoth | he !" | , ! CHAPTER V. I THE SECRET OF THE STATUE. The moon was waning rapidly, but it cast enough light for the elucidator to see the speaker with some distinctness. He beheld a tall, slim man with very bright eyes glowing behind the double sheen of a pair of green spectacles, and a face as long and thin as the blade of a hatchet. I His fingers had grappled Lyon's shoulders like a set of hooks, and he : tightened his hold as he uttered the mysterious rigmarole which had aire., y been dinned so often in the de- , tective's ears.

" I don't understand you," the latter jerked out, bluntly. " That may be a very weird quotation, but I fail to see in what way it is applicable to our meeting. Who are you ?" " Don Ramon," came the quick answer, in a soft hissing tone, which went far to mark the speaker as a native of Andalusia. "I followed you from No. 21. You exchanged word£ with my chaffeur."

" Your chaffeur ! Did he not be long to Mr. Temple ?" A puzzled light filled the eyes behind the green glasses.

" Temple ?" the man repeated stupidly. " I have not heard that nam*

■before, that I know of. Who is it?" "By Caesar, I would give something to know ! For that matter, who are you ?" " Caramba ! Need you ask ?" He glanced round cautiously, swinging himself closer to the Lion of the Law with a lithe motion, "Look you here, mj man. I followed you from the house up there, and do not need to strain my imagination to guess that you are connected with the plot, You understand me ?" Lvon nodded.

The action was somewhat mendacious, but he was anxious to hear what Don Ramon had to say, and considered that the state of affairs fully justified his action. The Spaniard fumbled in his breast pocket for a moment, finally producing three sheets of paper that rustled like silk as he handled them. " I have here three bank-notes for fifty pounds apiece," he whispered.

" Tell me where the marble man is, nnd thej are yours." " The "marble man ! What are you talking about ?" " Dios ! Do not trifle with me. Will you tell me for three hundred ? [ am honest, your employers are not." " I have no employers."

" Your colleagues then. Why quibble ? Tell me in a dozen words where the marble man is, and these notes are yours."

The detective shook his head helplessly.

" I cannot very well tell you what I do not know, senor," he returned. " But in my turn I have a question to ask. What is the meaning of that quotation from Coleridge ?" The Spaniard started, eyeing him with side-long piercing glances, his brows drawn together in a sudden frown.

"Madre de Dios !" he muttered under his breath. " Perhaps the English fool is really ignorant. Ah-h-h!" A smothered scream, long-drawn and quavering ended his speech. With an abrupt motion he leapt convulsively into the air, his head thrown back, his thin fingers clenched and writhing. Then he dropped to the pavement heavily, turned half over and lay still. The tragedy had come with stunning swiftness and for a space, while one might have counted ten, John Lyon stood like a man petrified, gazing at the body stretched at his feet. Recovering his coolness by a mighty effort of will, he dropped to his knees by the Spaniard's side, and quickly ascertained that he was dead. A tiny arrow, fired from an air-gun with unerring precision, had pierced his heart, death being almost instantaneous. Lyon had heard the vibrant twang of the shaft as it was released, but he had no other guide to the direction from which the sound had come.

However, the assassination spurred him to action.

With a shrill whistle he summoned a constable, and gave the body oi the murdered man into his keeping, with a few evasive words of explanation. Fortunately the officer knew him by sight, and made no demur when he turned to go, In another minute he was back on the scene of his former strange experiences. His bewilderment had given way to determination, and it. was with quick, firm steps that he ascended to the porch of the house where the disguised woman had vanished. A hearty tug at the bell-handle brought a slatternly man to the door. He was attired principally in a dressing-gown, and his creased fact and rumpled hair gave evidence that he had been aroused from his sleep. " There ain't no woman here," he said roughly, in answer to the detective's question. "I'm alone in the 'ouse, if you want to know. My missis and the kid are away, and we ain't got no lodgers. Be orf with you." *

He attempted to slam the door but Lyon's foot adroitly prevented the action.

" I am a detective," that worthy interpolated. " I saw a disguised woman enter this house a short time back, and I must summon the police if you do not allow me to make a search."

The man drew bacli grumbling. He was a big-boned sullen fellow with a visage that would have served as a passport to the gallows. " 'Ave it yer own way," he growled, shielding the guttering flame of the candle ha carried with one grimy hand. "Only be quick, for 'eaven's sake, guv nor. You won't find many chairs and tallies to look be'ind, at any rate." Lyon found the last remark to be literally true, for the place was barely furnished, dirt being the only article present in any abundance. However, he went about his search, keenly enough, paying no attention to the man with the candle, although that frowsy individual trailed after him from room to room, heaping a variety of expletives and objurgations on his head.

Nothing accrued to justify the suspicions which he held. The premises were of the poorest and most ordinary description, the lower rooms only being occupied. The upper apartments, the man explained, were let off in flats, but owing to trouble with the drains, had been vacated by their various tenants.

Veiling his disappointment, the elucidator pursued his search through the scullery and kitchen, and then attempted to open the cellar door. He whistled when he found that it was bolted on the inside and that his escort had unostentatiously disappeared. " Whew ! I may be nearer the track than I thought of. Hi, there !" He sent a loud yell ringing up the stairs. A sleepy grunt came in response.

" Ain't you finished yet ?" thf owner of the premises groaned " 'Urrv up. mate. If I don't get my

tit o' sleep 'ow am Ito work" tomorrow." " I want to search the cellar," Lyon shouted in return. " Then search it, and be 'anged to you." " The door's locked." " Oh, ah ! I forgot as my wife locked it afore she went, guv'nor. She was afraid as I'd pop our few sticks, and she locked 'em down there and took the key away with 'er." " Liar !" the elucidator roared in answer. " The door's bolted on the inside."

"That be blowed for a tale. It can't be."

'* But it is. I can easily open it, though." Without more ado Lyon dashed his shoulder against the portal which creaked ominously. Simultaneously came a furious oath of anger from above, and the frowsy man burst into the kitchen, his face naming with passion.

"Stow that," he snarled. "Blimy, if I don't mark yer if yer don't get out."

He made a wild jab at the detective, and for answer got a blow on the point of the jaw that stretched him sick and semi-senseless in a coraer. Without pausing Lyon then made a second assault on the door, and this time succeeded in bursting it from the hinges.

Below, the basement was veiled in unfathomable darkcess, which faded swiftly as he brought the electric torch into requisition. Swaying " the arc of the light from side to side he descended to find himself in a single square cellar which was untenanted and unoccupied, saving a chest which rested in the centre of the floor.

He recognised it instantly as one of the coffin-boxes he had seen at No. 21. The evidence that he had not been dreaming was welcome, and he smiled as he laid the torch on the stairs, in such a manner that it sent a flood of light over the chest and advanced to submit it to a more minute examination.

Obviously it was not the one he had opened.

The lid was perfectly intact and there was scarcely a scratch upon the woodwork.

Otherwise, however, there was nothing to distinguish it from the one which had held so hideous a secret, and he could not repress a shud-der as he wondered what the woodwork concealed.

But Lyon never allowed emotion to interfere with business, and in a few minutes he was his impassive self. Lifting his foot, he kicked deftly at the lid, and had soon splintered one side from the fastenings in such a way that he was enabled to insert his hands and wrench it bodily away. As before, a sheath of flattened wool lay exposed to view. He ripped it away and stood staring at the strange thing that reposed within. " Caesar !" he hissed at last, " The marble man !" (To be Continued.)