JOHN LYON, DETECTIVE.

King Country Chronicle, Volume V, Issue 388, 19 August 1911, Page 2

JOHN LYON, DETECTIVE.

-'Copyright.' s

By the Author of " The Castle Mystery," etc., etc.

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

PART 8. CHAPTER V. THE CRIMSON MUMMY. " The den of the Vampire ?" John Lyon repeated the words s*ith an inquiring accent, at the same ;ime motioning Winter to proceed >n his beat.

Realizing that the detective did not vant to be observed, the policeman lost no time in resuming his mecliani:al stride, and Lyon fell into step reside him.

" The Vampire is a Jew named Rotherstein," he said, in a low voice. 'He is known to be the cleverest :ence in England, but he is so devilshly smart that we have never been ible to lay hands on him. If you lave got him in the net it will be ;he best day's work you have ever lone, sir."

" What sort of a man is he?" Lyon asked, ignoring the half-dis-juised question.

" Dark, hump-bactled, and dwarfed —the sort of man you read about as a villain in books. He is supposed to oe a gold-beater, sir." The elucidator emitted a low whistle. " The description matches that of :he man seen by Gladys Orme," he thought. " Things are growing interesting." He reflected for a moment, then turned to the officer again. "Do you know a thin cadaverous man with very long teeth and reddish eyes, as a pal of this Rother* stein ?" Winter nodded assent. " That's his assistant. The Liverpool detectives have been trying for the last year to identify him with Shartoy Williams, the forger, but he has covered his tracks too well. Rotherstein is known to all the crooks of Liverpool as the Vampire —owing, it is said, to the way he squeezes them when they do business with him. If jou would care to hav< a chat with Inspector Reynolds, sir, he would tell you all there is to be known about Rotherstein and hi? den."

" Thanks, no."

Lyon had perceived Lesage following on the other side of the road, anc he suddenly decided to retrace his steps. Bidding good-bye to the constable he joined his assistant, listening keenly to that worthy's report. " I trailed you all the way fron: Walton Vale," Lesage said with £ laugh. " A nice job it was, too. i paid a visit to the house where thf rifle was fired from first. There is nothing suspicious in that quarter The man with the gun gained th< roof by means of a fire-escape, anc" was chased by the gardener, but ht got away," " What sort, of man was he ?" Lyot demanded abruptly.

" A dwarf, foreign-looking and hunch-backed."

The elucidator uttered a word ol triumph.

" We are on the track," ho rejoined grimly. "By nightfall this mystery will be one no longer. I want you to go back to Mount Laurel and keep watch there until I call you off, Chris."

" What are you going to do, 0 chief ?"

" Enter the den of the Vampire," Lyon replied shortly. "Be off with you. Put the bracelets on anybody who enters Mount Laurel." With a nod and a hand-clasp they parted, Lesape to board a tram-car at Water Street while the Lion of the Law returned to his office in Dale Street.

He was not long in making an alteration in his appearance. When, fifteen minutes later, he set off to walk back to Rotlierstein's place of business, he was attired as a musichall comedian of the commonest type. His hair had been darkened and liberally anointed with grease, traces oi paint showed about his eyes and nose and his chin bore an artistic semblance of a two-days' beard. A pink flannel collar a brown suit with o gridiron check, and details of a like nature completed his get-up which was a masterpiece of impersonation. As he had foreseen, it was dark by the time he arrived at the goldbeater's house. The new moon shed but s feeble glimmer in the sky, and nc stars were visible. The few street lamps did little to dispel the gloon: and the detective mentally congratulated himself as he paused before Rotherstein's dwelling. " Couldn't have a better night foi burgling," he thought. " I wonder i! I can get round to the back regions I can try, anyhow."

Suiting the action to the word, ht seized the opportunity when nobod\ was in sight, and boldly vaulted ovei the wooden door which guarded th< passage to the rear of the house. A lighting noiselessly as a nocturna' eat, he crept on tip-toe into the bad yard and there paused to reconnoitn the situation.

A light showed in the basement where the kitchen was evidently sit uated, and he decided to make his at tempt on the upper regions He wa: an adept at climbing water-pipes—v was one of the peculiar feats he ha< practised assiduously in leisure mo ments —and he soon found one whiel enabled him to swarm up to the win dow which was open a few inches.

Cautiously drawing himself up t< the wall, he listened for a minute

and then gently raised the sasn. a smell of soap and towels forewarned him that he was in the bathroom. He surmounted the bath noiselessly with his rubber-shod feet, and then waited calmly for any sign that his entry had been discovered. Save for the muffled hum of voices from below, the house was given ovei to silence. Electric torch in hand, he pushed the door open and stole forth on a voyage of discovery. The upper portion of the house appeared to be unoccupied. He flashed his light into two or three of the rooms and found them furnished in the most ordinary way. It might have been the dwelling of any middleclass tradesman for any evidence to the contrary. Lyon spent a moment in removing his boots ; rubber-soled as they were, he could not trust them on an old, and presumably creaky staircase. He descended one step at a time, and arrived in the hall without having made enough noise to startle a mouse.

Scarcely daring to breathe lest he be overheard, he moved on towards the streak of light which marked the kitchen door. The voices grew clearer as he approached, and with a thrill he recognised the tones of the red-eyed man, Sharklej Williams. He paused with his ear to the door, which was standing ajar an inch or more, and listened. " I nearly jumped out of my skin," the red-eyed man was saying, in his characteristically jerky manner. " I'd sooner have any man on earth than John Lyon on our track. You bet ! My blood fair ran cold. '

" It was accidental !" rejoined another voice with a soft Hebrew accent. " Perhaps you mistook the name, my frient." " Mistook nothing. It was John Lyon. What was he doing on top of the dome, I should like to know ?" " But he didn't get the package," Rotherstein —as Lyon took the speaker to be—chuckled. " We were a little bit too smart for him, my frient—just a little bit." " But neither did we get it, and if it's in the hands of the Lion of the Law —''

" Tush ! You are full of fear tonight. We have the mummy, although we have lost the map, and I care for naught else, my frient. We will be clear of England by to-mor-row night." " None too soon either," Willams grumbled. " Don't forget that the girl has our secret and may let it out at any time." " Gladys Orme ?" " Yes. She is too plucky for youi threats to frighten her for long." Rotherstein growled an oath undei his breath, and for a minute the kitchen was given over to stillness. A clock ticked busily and to Lyon the sound of his own breathing seemed unpleasantly audible. At last Sharkley broke the silence.

" Eight o'clock," he yawned. "Pah I feel as nervous as a cat to-night. Hadn't we better open the mummy and stow the stuff awaj ? If anything happens the time gained might be precious to-morrow." " You are right, my frient. We will do it now."

A chair grated back noisily. The detective took the alarm, and glided to the foot of the stairs. His eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness and he was able to see his surroundings dimly. After a momentary hesitation he stepped behind a curtain which draped the entrance to the dining-room and allowed it to droop over his motionless form. He was only just in time. A second later the red-eyed man emerged, carrying a candle, and he was closely followed by Rotherstein. -The latter was hideous iii both form and feature, his humped back, and great beak of a nose suggesting some misshapen bird of prey. Both men passed within a foot of where Lyon stood, mounted the stairs, and vanished.

The elucidator was still debating the wisdom of following iyhen he heard the sound of returning footsteps. The two villains were evidently carrying something of more than usual weight. They gasped and grunted stertorously as they descended and their steps were heavy and stumbling.

Presently they passed on their way to the kitchen, bearing a lidded case shaped like a coffin—the counterpart of that which Lyon had seen at Mount Laurel. The detective waited' until Rotherstein kicked the door shut, and then strode forward as calmly as if he had been an invited guest. He meant to see what was in the chest at all hazards. If it was the dead body he would arrest the paii of scoundrels on the spot. The door had been latched, but he turned the knob by minute degrees, and was soon able to push it open. Peering through the intertice, he beheld Rotherstein and his accomplice, their backs to the portal, lifting something from the interior of the case. Lyon caught his breath as he saw the object. It was an Egyptian mummy, swathed in bandages of a deep crimson colour, the outer layer being smooth and shiny with a thick coat of gum. A strong odour of natron reached his nostrils as the men gently lowered the embalmed form on to the table, using as much care as if it had been made of glass. Rotherstein's nest action was as singular as it was unexpected. Grasping a hammer from the dresser, he dealt the mummy a couple of heavy blows. The head caved in like a rotten nutshell, a shower of plaster breaking from the covering of flaxed cloth. Next instant a great torrent of precious stones—diamonds, rubies, pearls, and emeralds —came pouring from the cavity he had created, anc he threw aside the implement witt an exultant shout. " Mine Gott !" he cried, with s mad laugh. " We are both bill'on

aires, my rnent : 'mere is weaitr. enough here for an emperor's ransom. So help me we are the luckiest men on earth !" " And ymi are my prisoners !" thundered John Lyon stepping from his place of concealment with a revolver in either hand.

CHAPTER YT. A FLOATING COFFIN—DEATH IN THE CLOCK —*X)N C LUSH IN.

The effect of his appearance was almost theatrical. Rotherstein dropped the hammer to the floor with a crash, and staggered back .'(gainst the wall, his face white as bleached linen. Sharkey Williams remained like one petriiied. his jaw Itatv.-ing

slackly, his eyes wide and staring, his fingers gripping the table edge. For a moment only the echo of the detective's ringing words broke the stillness.

" Gott !" the Hebrew sibilated at last. " Who are you ?" " I am John Lyon, and I arrest you on a charge of murder and robbery," Lyon boldly replied. The evidence in his possession was of the slightest and he hoped to startle one or another of the miscreants into a confession.

His expectations were disappointed. Rotherstein, calmin® himself with an obvions effort answered with quiet scorn. " You are one madman, my frient. What proof have you of such wildgoose charges ?" Something in the Jew's face—a fleeting shadow of devilish triumphsent a warning thrill running through the detective's frame. Acting more by intuition than reason he whirled on his heel, bringing his eyes to bear on the door.

His suspicion had been well founded but it came too late. A man had entered from the passage, and even as Lyon turned the newcomer struck him a violent blow with his fist. Like a stricken ox the elucidator went down and before he could recover his scattered senses be was bound hand and foot with a length of clothes-line. When sensibility returned he was lying at full length on the floor and the three occupants of the kitchen were talking in hurried whispers. A minute's listening as>sured him that Rotherstein had dropped the veil of innocence. " He'll blab as sure as you're alive, my frients," he was hissing, malignantly. Remember that men tell no tales. We must silence him for goot to-night, or it will mean a hempen collar for the three of us."

Sharkey Williams acquiesced with £ cool nod.

" Nail him up in the coffin and drop him into the Mersey," he said, callously. " He'll sink likie a plummet of lead, and it won't leave anything behind for the cops to snifl over."

The Jew lowered his voice as he replied, and Lyon could not catch his words, strain his ears as he might. While they talked he put all his energies to the task of slipping his bonds, but it was an impossibility. He had been bound by a master hand at the business.

His captors came to a decision suddenly. Williams thrust a duster into his mouth by way of a gap, the while the stranger prepared the chest for his reception. A moment later he was lifted and dumped unceremoniously into its narrow confines. Rotherstein forced a few handfuls o( wadding about his body, anil then helped the others to drop the lid into place. Then came a series ol thuds as the nails were hurriedly

hammered into position, and the de tective was a prisoner. To be Continued.