THE HOUSE OF WHISPERS.

King Country Chronicle, Volume V, Issue 372, 24 June 1911, Page 7

THE HOUSE OF WHISPERS.

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

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

CHAPTER I. A QUEER AFFAIR. With a long droning sigh from the engines John Lyon's big racing car drew to a halt before the Wishing Cup Inn, beyond Beattock. The detective gave a grunt of relief as he alighted ; he had been at the wheel since early morning and it was a relief to stretch his cramped limbs. " Another hour or so will see me in Glasgow," he muttered. "The car has come through like a bird, bless it ! Fourth speed nearly all the way, and not a tinge of over-heating. I must get that punctured float seen to though, or the petrol waste —" " Fan—cy meet —ing you, old feller !"

Lyon turned with something like an oath as a well-known voice saluted aim. It was that of James Penruddock Sly the, the Scotland Yard detective. He had emerged from the private bar of the Wishing Cup, an all-embracing smile seaming his fat features. John Lj on might have been his long-lost brother, judging by the effusion displayed. " Just the man I wanted to see," nc said in a mysterious whisper. "I ion't bear you any ill-will over that affair at Leeds, old feller, although fou did treat me a little sharply. But if you like I can let you have a sniff at the case that will make your iair curl —make your hair curl." " Curly hair isn't the fashion low," the elucidator responded curtly. " And as it happens, I already tiave a case which is likely to take ip all my attention." He strode into the cosy parlour, sut Slythe, always impervious to aroad hint or direct insult, followed aim. " I want your advice," he said, ;oolly, chafing his pudgy hands together. " I have retired from the official service and gone into business on my own account. As we are 10 longer rivals, you can have no Dbjection to aiding me, I presume. (Vhat do you think of this ?" Neatly anticipating a protest from nis victim, he extracted a letter from lis pocket-book and spread it out ander Lyon's nose. Suddenly inter;sted, the latter leaned forward, and read the following words " Come at once to Lonesome, Bal?ie Hill, just beyond Strathbungo. As you value your life, do not tnention this to a living soul. A case of extraordinary interest awaits you. Ask at the lodge for Mrs. Vandervell, and you will be admitted instantly." "No signature, you see," Slythe said, watching Lyon's impassive features eagerly. " Very strange, is it not. Quite off the beaten track, in fact." " Nothing very wonderful in that, as far as I can see. Do you mean to say that this thing has brought you this far from London ?"

Slythe nodded. " I came at once, by motor. There Is something up with the ignition, I think the chaffeur said. I'm no motorist, thank goodness ! Anyhow, the car's gone back to Dumfries, and I'm waiting here for 1 it/' " I wish you luck, then," the Lion of the Lajv rejoined, turning away. "I'm going on as soon as I've had a drink."

" Not so fast, old feller !" Slythe laid a detaining hand on his arm. " I haven't told you everything yet." " What do you mean ?" " That you and I are not the onlj detectives here. There are two others—Jack Carberry, of Northampton Street, and Wcscott, the old Scotland Yard man. They have both come through by motor with me, and are at this moment in the smoking room. The funny part of the matter is, they both received precisely similar letters to mine this morning. Wc happened to compare notes, and so set off for Glasgow in company. Now, don't you think that ' Mrs. Vandervcll ' must have some queer game on hand when she writes the same thing to three different detectives ?" " Four detectives," the elucidator said, drily. " Four ?" " Yes. As it happens, I have a duplicate! of your note in my pocket, and it i:; that which is taking me to Glasgow." Slythe opened his mouth to emit a fish-like pcasp. " Great Scott !" he cried. " This affair grows stranger and stranger What can be the meaning of it ?" " That's what we have to find out. I'll be the first on the scene unless a breakdown interrupts my progress, tvh'ch isn't likely. I may have elucidated the business by the time I get there. Ta-ta !" He drained the tankard which had been set before him and made for the door. Slythe, however, interposed his portly figure and the elucidator had perforce to arrest his progress. " Won't you cast in your lot with ua ?" the ex-Scotland Yard man asked, eagerly. " The more the merrier. You might take us on in your car, and we could separate and enter the House singly when we got there. Twc neads are better than one, jou know —bet-ter than one." " My head's better than six like jrours," responded Lyon unkindly. " I may see you at Glasgow, if your weight doesn't bear down the bearings of your car on the way. So long !" He shouldered his way unceremoniously out into the open, paying nc attention to Slythe's remonstrances. As a matter of fact he wanted to get clear before the other two detectives came upon the scene. He scented a mystery of unusual interest, and did

not mean to let anyone cise get a start in the race to Glasgow. A minute later he was gliding away waving a cheerful adieu to the vindictive gestures of Penruddock Slythe. CHAPTER 11. THE WARNING WHISPER. Lonesome would have made a typical haunted house. Judging from external appearances, it might have been extracted from the pages of a particularly gruesome ghost story. Lyon beheld it for the first time by the wan light of a slim new moon, m l he paused W" a full minute, won-der-stricken by' the sheer weirdness of the scene. The house was situated in a narrow lane which boasted no other buildings, and led out into a field thick with rubbish. It was a gaunt mansion of Queen Anne style, patched here and there with ivy, and girt about bj a wild and jungly garden of considerable extent. The grounds were of a gloomy and depressing nature, lily-filled and weed-grown ponds shone dankly in the moonlight, and cypress trees cast long sombre shadows across the lawns. Yews lined the short avenue to the porch, and weeping willows dropped their branches to sweep the stagnant pools that filled every hollow. The house itself showed no single light, all the windows being closely shuttered or covered by blinds. No sound reached the detective's ears as he stood surveying the prospect ; for any evidence that he had seen to the contrary, Lonesome might have been deserted for a score of years or more. "Hope I haven't been made the victim of a foolish practical joke," he thought. " Old Slythe would have the laugh of me in that case." Pausing beneath the shadow of the wall, he drew the note which had brought him to Glasgow from his pocket and perused it again. The words served rather to increase his conviction that he had been sold than otherwise.

" 'Ask at the lodge for Mrs. Vandervell,' " he repeated aloud. "H'm ! The lodge looks as though it hadn't been opened for the last ten years. Anyhow it won't do any good wasting time here, so here goes." He stepped forward as the last words left his lips and tugged at the bell-chain, which showed as a rustred streak against the dull grey of the stone gate-pillars. A cracked bell brayed from the interior of the lodge, sending a dozen bats whirling away in sudden panic. But the whirring of their wings was the only answer vouchsafed to Lyon's peal. Then he recalled the words of the mysterious letter. 'Ask at the lodge for Mrs. Vandervell and you will be admitted instantly." Putting a literal construction upon the sentence, he placed his lips to an aperture in the gate, and called in a distinct but not loud voice : " Can I see Mrs. Vandervell ?" The response was instantaneous, or nearly so. The door of the delapidated lodge opened noiselessly on well-oiled hinges releasing a flood of light that spread like flowing water across the rough surface of the drive. The figure of a man was silhouetted against the glow. At first glance Lyon took him for a footman but when he spoke it was in a cultured voice which left no doubt in the detective's mind that the speaker was disguised. " Wait a minute, sir, and I will let you in," he said, in a low voice, advancing with a great bunch of keys jangling in one hand. " Excuse me if I was a long time in answering your ring, but I happened to be rather busy. You are a detective?" " My name is John Lyon." "Very good, sir. I am to say that you are to go up to the house at once."

The gates creaked open, filling the night silence with a turmoil of complaining groans and screeches. The elucidator passed through without hesitation and obeyed a motion from the footman by proceeding leisurely up the drive. His reception had been a strange one, but he was by no means surprised or disconcerted. The affair had smacked of mystery from the very beginning, and his interest was increasing at every step he took. He was not long left without further food for thought. He had reached a point where the drive sloped round to the house and was shaded by intensely thicki masses of shrubbery, when the sound of stealthy footsteps reached his alert ears. Next moment a whisper drifted on the breeze, clear and distinct, and pregnant with warning. " Keep away from that accursed house. It is a den of infamy, and if ; ou pass its doors you will never be seen by human eyes again." Scarcely able to credit the evidence of his senses, Lyon came to a halt, and stood motionless as the stone statues that were visible here and there amongst the trees. Not a sound reached his ears, saving the mellow hout of a distant owl, and the rustling of the trees as the wind stirred amongst the branches. "Who's there ?" he hissed, craning forward. " I am a friend —a detective. What do you want ?" No answer. Not a "breath disturbed the curtain of bushes. Shrugging his shoulders, the elucidator resumed his way onward. Yet he felt a sinister foreboding of evil, and he paused for an instant to test the loadings of his revolvers. The very air at Lonesome seemed charged with some ominous quality ; it was as though some brooding nightmare had descended upon his brain when he passed the gates. Like the fodge, the hall and porch were dark and silent, as a nocturnal tomb. Without hesitation he rang the bell, repeating the formula he had used before. A short interval of suspense was ended by the abrupt opening of the portal. A second footman, w#o might have been twin brother tn the

nrst worthy, becKoned to Lyon to. enter, and without opening his lips led the detective across the hall and to a doorway draped by a heavy curtain of black velvet. He swept it aside, bowing as a sign that the Lion of the Law was to pass through. That worthy had thought that he was beyond surprise, but he had to confess to a start as he crossed the threshold. The room was sombrely furnished in clartv eolour, with tapestry of the .same dingy hue hiding the walls. At the further end a tall black screen concealed the wall almost to the ceiling. Settees were ranged down two sides of the room, and on them some sixteen men were seated in silence in attitudes more oi less uncomfortable. And those men, as Lyon was quick to recognise, were all London detectives. " Great voice of Caesar !" he exclaimed pausing under the flare ol the many-branched candelabra thai lighted this very strange and uncannj apartment. "What in thunder does il mean ? What are you all playing at ?"

The men regarded him in sulky silence, and ere he could speak again a hand descended upon his shoulder. It was that of the man in livery. "You are put upon your word ol honour not to 3©eak a word," he said, quickly. " All will be explained in due course, but if you do not care to give your bond and keep it, you must be shown out at once. Ljon reflected rapidly. His curiosity had been aroused tc an almost ungovernable extent by what he had seen and at all events he had nothing to lose by remaining silent. He nodded in agreement with the vow demanded, and took a vacant seat in silence. The footman glanced round for a few seconds, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth and then departed. Surely no more odd assembly had ever been gathered together in Britain. The detectives knew one another intimately, but all seemed equally surprised at Lyon's appearance and he guessed that all hat' come to Lonesome independently ol one another. What motive could be at the back of ths gathering he could not even surmise ; like the others, he could only sit still and await the course of events.

It had. been a few minutes past nine o'clock when he entered ; tec o'clock was striking before any move was made, the only happening that relieved the tedium being the arriva' of three more private detectives in the persons of James Penruddock Slythe and his two companions, They eyed the silent party in mute astonishment having evidently been previously warned to keep their tongues still.

Thus by ten o'clock, there were twenty men present. Lyon occupied himself by reviewing theories which would fit in with the few facts that were at his disposal, but he did not make any great progress. He fell like a man trying to construct a house with toy bricks. The whole circumstances were so trivial and ridiculous that it seemed waste of time treating the case seriously. Ten o'clock boomed forth from e big-voiced clock somewhere in the hall. Scarcely had the last quivering reverberation died away when another sound broke the silence. It was a human whisper, couched in the same tones that Lyon had heard ir the drive. "Don't sit there like a lot ol dummies," the voice said, and there seemed both agitation and indignation in the hushed accents. " There will be murder done if you don't stir Search the house, search the house." A score of astonished faces turned from side to side of the apartment. The words had hissed from wall tc wall with a force that made them audible to everybody in the room. But there was nobody in sight whe could have been responsible. for them. The door was closed, and with the curtains beyond would have effectually muffled any whisper sent from the other side. (To be Continued.)