Sentenced to Death

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 38, 7 May 1927, Page 18

Sentenced to Death

By

Louis Jracy.

Author of “ The Long Lane of Many Windings/ 9 " One Wonderful Night/* “ Love and the Aces/* 4< The &c., &c.

(Copyright for the Author in the United States and Canada by Edward J. Clode, Inc., New York. All other rights reserved.)

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. CHAPTER I.—A young officer learns from a skilled physician and an equally clever surgeon, that he has not many months to live. An operation is out of the question. One of the valves of the heart is clogged and nothing less than a miracle can save him. The patient, Antony Blake, leaves the house in Harley Street and wends his way to Regent’s Park. He experiments on his heart by stepping into the roadway at a critical moment, but survives various vituperations and receives warning from a policeman. He arrives at that part of the park where the pony and governess car are stationed which had passed through Harley Stree:, during his interview. The stout driver has vanished. The threatening thunderstorm breaks just as Blake enters the park proper. A vivid flash of lightning causes the pony to bolt. As Antony is walking, in a drenched condition, two men overtake and rush past him, one tall and thin, the other short and fat. The rotund runner falls. The other continues his pace. The fat man picks himself up and tears along. Arriving at the place where the man had fallen Antony notices a sharp-pointed dagger shining in the grass. He picks it up and examines it, finally flinging it into the long grass fringing the shrub bery. He reaches a small wooden hut A girl is sheltering there. Another thun-der-clap drives her further back. He shelters there also. Another vivid flash reveals each to the other. He sees a slender, pretty girl; she sees the fine type of British officer, her senior by a few years. She has also seen the two men. He tolls her that the fat man is coming back again. lie feels sure that the man is seeking for his dagger. The girl tells him she was to meet her uncle who was driving a pony in a governess car. Antony tells her it has gone, but not that the pony bolted. The two leave the hut, turning to the left instead of to the right. Had they turned in the opposite direction they would have been seen by the one man fated to become their deadly enemy, though known *o neither. CHAPTER ll.—Antony Blake accompanies the girl some distance and then he hails a passing taxi. He takes her to her home in Sutherland Avenue. She gives him hei card; her name is Iris Hamilton. Blake takes tea about five. Soon after he is again in the Park. He finds the dagger, encases it in a strip of cardboard. ties the package with twine, taxis to the “Rag." where he dines with a couple of men still in the Service. He shows them the knife. About half-past nine be glances through the day's news. The first item that catches his eye is "Tragedy in Regent’s Park. Supposed Murder.” The account is accurate, as Blake himself knows the facts Another paragraph details how Dr. Ens-ley-Jones found a long-bladed daggei in the body of the dead man. Its description tallies with the one in Blake’s possession. He taxis to the nearest police station and tells ills story to the inspector there. The latter treats the matter sourly until Blake prodlces the knife, then he says: “Come inside." He telephones to headquarters, to Mr Pur

neaux. He tells Blake that an officer will arrive in fifteen minutes at the latest. Blake finds himself practically under arrest, suspected of complicity in the murder of Robert Lastingham. Would Iris Hamilton share in, the same opinion? CHAPTER lll.—Furneaux arrives, identifies Blake, hears his story, and then asks the inspector for the knife. Says it is identical with the weapon found in Lastingham's body. By Furneaux’s request Blake describes the thin man and the stout one, the inspector taking notes. Then Furneaux invites himself to Blake’s flat. As the two men are - making their way to Antony’s rooms, his housekeeper, Mrs. Wilson, says that a young lady had called and left a letter for him. It has been thrust under Blake’s door. The latter reads it aloud. It is from Iris Hamilton and relates to the murder. A postcript describes the little detective who called on her. They converse and theorise. Furneaux takes his leave. Antony re-reads Iris’s letter, smokes his pipe, reads, and retires for the night. Next morning he phones the Harley Street specialist, asking for an interview, but he is advised to wait a week or so before calling again. He reads the morning paper's report of yesterday’s murder. In spite of happenings Iris Hamilton keeps an appointment. They taxi to the Marble Arch. They stop the cab at the next telephone booth, where Blake phones Mrs. Wilson his change of plans. Immediately Blake hangs up the receiver Iris draws his attention to the fact that the short, stout man whom Blake is connecting with the murder has just passed. He has a woman with him. CHAPTER IV. —(Continued). “In my opinion,” said Blake, “the wait-and-see policy is best. Why not shake hands, and bid us good-bye, as the man is glancing this way now? Then you an trail both us and them.” “Perhaps ” The speaker got no farther. _ A wellappointed closed car drove up from the west. Someone in the interior opened a door, and the woman, obviously keeping an appointment, made to enter. The detective raced forward, with Blake close on his heels, and was just in time to collar the stout man before he, too, got inside. Before reaching the posts which shut off wheeled traffic from the path, Blake felt an acute twinge of that now dreaded pain in his heart. He literally reeled, and would have fallen had not Iris come up and caught his arm. So severe was the attack that during a few fateful seconds he could neither move nor speak. But he could use his eyes, and a surge of helpless anger brought on another slightly less paralysing seizure when he saw the chauffeur spring from his seat, race round the rear of the car, and, coming on the detective unaware deliver such a murderous sidelong blow with a heavy spanner that the man’s knees gave way and he fell like a log. Blake was absolutely unable to move. He was still clinging to a post when the car drove off toward Ilyde Park Corner. But he did strive most valiantly to collect his senses sufficiently to note the number on the rear plate. Then he gasped to Iris:

“Never mind me! I’ll stand fast. Hurry to Albert Gate and find a policeman, or you fnay come on a mounted constable in the Row. Tell him the number of that car. It’s ” , He stopped. Now nearly recovered, though his forehead was wet with perspiration from the torture he had endured, he realised that the girl was giving no attention to what he was saying. All the colour had fled from her bright face, and her eyes were dilated with fear, or, it might be, horror. She contrived to murmur brokenly, pointing to the detective: “Is he —dead?’’ “No, no. Only stunned. That blighter knew how to hit. But, there’s a crowd gathering. You get away and find a policeman. Send him here, if you cannot collect your wits sufficiently to remember the car’s number. Hurry! Go straight on, and you’ll be in Knightsbridge.” He was disappointed in Iris, and mad with himself for that most lamentable breakdown at such a crisis, since had it not occurred, he could have grappled with the chauffeur in good time. Iris sped away on faltering feet, and, of the many vivid impressions Blake retained of that spasm of excitement none was more definite than the recollection of the girl’s complete collapse. It was all the more bewildering because such lack of self-control on her part was the last thing he anticipated. 1-Ie tried to convince himself that the strain of events was too great—the tragic death of her uncle too recent — that an artifiqial restraint put on the feminine temperament had yielded utterly when she saw the detective apparently killed instantaneously. Yet, somehow, the logic of the matter did not agree with these forced conclusions. Only a few minutes earlier she had survived a sufficiently searching test, while the slender hands which gripped him when he was about topple over had the sti'ength and decisiveness of one whose nervous system could withstand far worse things than the sight pf one man rapping another on the head with a spanner. But these jarring notions vanished before actualities. Two men came running up. They assumed that Blake, like themselves, had been a little farther removed from the scene than wa. literally the case. They stooped o' the detective’s body. ‘By gum, guv'nor,” said one to Blake, “didjer see that shuffer land him one?” “Yes,” said Blake. “If you saw it and your friend as well I hope you will

remain here till the police come. They will be glad of your evidence. Did you notice the car’s number?” “Yuss,” said the second man. He repeated it, and Blake found that his own observation had not been at fault. “I wonder ’oo this pore gentleman is,” said the other. “I’ve seen him afore. Dash my wig if I don’t believe he’s a Park ’tec.” Blake decided for some nebulous reason that it would be best if he did not reveal a too intimate knowledge of the facts. “If that is so,” he said, “the first policeman who turns up will recognise him. Here is one now.” Among the people hurrying from the promenade by the side of the lake was a constable in uniform. “What’s the matter?” he said, with the calm indifference of officialdom. Then, thrusting aside some of the gaspers, his glance fell on the body of the unconscious detective. “Why, it’s Barker!” he gasped. “What’s happened? Did that car hit him ?” “No,” said Blake. “He was assaulted by the chauffeur, who was waiting here, apparently to pick up a man whom Mr. Barker was about to arrest. But nothing can be done now to halt the car. It is out of the park already. I and these two men, who also witnessed the affair, can give evidence later. Is there an ambulance available?” The policeman, who understood the principles of first aid, was examining the broken skin at the base of the injured detective’s skull. “I don’t think it’s deep enough to be a fracture,” he said. “May be just a knock-out. Yes, that’s right. He’s coming to now.” Sure enough, Barker, after some stertorous breathing, was able to raise his head when his comrade lifted him to a sitting posture. He gazed about him in a dazed manenr until his uncertain eyes met Blake’s. “Hello!” he muttered. “You there? What was it? Who butted in?” Blake told him briefly. The detective speedily regaining ,full possession of his wits, said reproachfully: “Couldn’t you take a hand?” “No. I’m sorry. When you are a trifle better I’ll explain.” Barker struggled to his feet, though he needed the policeman’s assistance. “You come along with me to the station,” he said gruffly. “This affair will have to be gone into thoroughly.” “Arrested once more!” thought Blake, repressing a smile, since it was

easy to understand the man’s doubts. Pie contented himself with remarking that two other men had witnessed the attack. “What’s the use?” growled Barker, momentarily becoming more irritated. “I know enough about that, don’t I?” “Up to a point,” Blake could not help retorting. He turned to the lounger who had arrived first on the scene. “I sent a young lady to seek help in Knightsbridge,” he said. She is dressed in a blue costume with a blue cloth toque and brown shoes. Will you wait here till she shows up, and tell her I have gone to the Park Police Station. In fact, bring her there, unless she wishes to go home. In any case, I’ll give you five shillings when I see you.” “No,” broke in Barker. “I want to see that girl, too. You and I will go and sit on that seat over there.” His eyes telegraphed a command to the policeman, and the onlookers scattered before a not over-polite request that they should “hop it.” Then the constable was sent to broadcast the car’s number throughout London. “Now, what’s all this about?” demanded Barker, when Blake and he were seated in such wise that they could not fail to discover Iris the instant she reappeared. With real patience and quite genuine sympathy—for the detective was badly hurt, and was clearly compelling his brain to master a stricken bo<fy— Blake, after a brief synopsis of the previous day’s occurrences, went fully into that morning’s doings. He knew, as he went on, that his hearer was convinced. For one thing the St. John’s Wood inspector had included his (Blake’s) name in the memorandum issued overnight; for another, none but someone who had shared Furneaux’s confidence could possibly be acquainted so accurately with the steps taken already by the police. And, to clinch matters, had not Blake himself sought official aid for the arrest of a presumed criminal who owed his escape only to the prompt action of a fellow-scoundrel in the person of the chauffeur. “It’s tough on you,” was Barker’s comment when he heard the explanation of his new ally’s strange defection at a critical moment. “You ought to keep out of this game altogether. Next thing you know you’ll be dropping dead.” “Better that than to stand fast like a helpless fool when I might be of real use,” said Blake wrathfully.

The detective’s eyes sought the screened outlet of the path which rises from the rabbit warren below the Serpentine.

“Where has that girl got to?” he broke in suddenly. “We’re wasting time here now, though I admit I couldn’t have walked far during the first few minutes after that knock. But I ought to be phoning headquarters.”

“Why not adopt my suggestion, and let the .man remain on guard whom I offered to pay for the job?” “Well, if she isn’t in sight when we look down the path we’ll do that very thing. There are not so many people about. Y'ou’ll be able to spot her a long way off.”

But there was neither sight nor sign of Iris. Fifteen minutes later, when, by arrangement, the watcher came to the Park Police Station and reported that no young lady answering to her description had come to the rendezvous, the conviction that she did not intend to return was forced on Blake. As for the detective, he was obviously suspicious. He was annoyed, too, because he had failed to' get hold of anyone in authority in Scotland Y r ary. before you met her in that Regent’s Park hut yesterday?” “That is so.” agreed Blake. “So you can’t be particularly interested in her?” (To be Continued). .