Sentenced to Death

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 41, 11 May 1927, Page 16

Sentenced to Death

■8?

Louis Tracy.

A uthor of “ The Long Lane of Many Windings/* “ One Wonderful Night./* “ Love and the Aces/* 4 ‘ The Totten/* &c., &c.

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

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS CHAPTER I.—A young officer, Antony Blake, learns from a skilled physician that he has not many months to live. One of the valves of the heart i* clogged and nothing less than a mtracxfc can save him He arrives at a part of Regent’s Park where a pony and governess car are stationed which had passed through Harley Street during his interview. The stout driver has vanished. 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, picks himself up and tears along. 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 shrubbery. He reaches a small wcoden hut. A girl is sheltering there. He shelters there also. She tells him she was to meet her uncle, who was driving a pony in a governess car. The two leave the hut, turning to the left instead of to the right. CHAPTER ll.—Blake takes her to her home. Her name is Iris Hamilton. Soon after he is again in the Park and he finds the dagger. About half-past nine he glances through the day’s news. The first item that catches his eye is "Tragedy in Regent’s Park. Supposed Murder.” Another paragraph details how Dr. EnsleyJones found a long-bladed dagger 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 his story. Blake finds himself practically under arrest, suspected of complicity in the murder of Robert Lastingham. CHAPTERS 111. and IV.—Furneau.x arrives, identifies Blake, hears his story, and then asks the inspector for the knife. 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 is from Iris Hamilton and relates to the murder. In spite of happenings Tris Hamilton keeps an appointment. They taxi to the Marble Arch, where Blake phones Mrs. Wilson his change of plans 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. An attempt is make to arrest the fat man but the detective is stunned by a chauffeur, while Blake, suffering a heart

attack, can only stand by helpless. Iris goes to get help but does not return. CHAPTER V.—Blake sees the tall thin man at Albert Gate, and after sending a note to Furneaux. follows him to Soho. Detectives join him and they succeed in Sliding the haunt of the criminals. The rat man walks in and is caught. CHAPTER V.—(Continued). “Ah!” he cried, tapping the left breast of the captive’s coat, "here is the sheath, but no knife! Well, we may hope to reunite the parted friends. That’s all right, Gregorio!” for the stout man was striving furiously to

free himself. “It’s far better that a chap of your build should take things easy for a while. Now, be good, or you'll certainly get hurt! The handy lad behind you has his knee in the small of your back. One more wriggle out of you and you’ll be crippled with lumbago for a week. Yes, that’s better. I am a detective-inspector from Scotland Yard, and I arrest you on a charge of being concerned in the murder of Robert Lastingham yesterday in Regent’s Park —also with resisting arrest in Hyde Park. Do you understand English?” “A leetle,” gasped the man, who had just become aware of the paralysing grip in which Sheldon held him. “Bud you mek one beeg mistek, you. My nem it is not Gregorio, an’ I haf nod keel Mistaire wot-you-call-heem in ze Park.” "What is your name, then?” The prisoner tried to gather his scattered wits, and did not answer. “Forgotten it, eh?” grinned Furneaux. “Never mind. I’ll guess again a bit later. Have you any friends living here? It would be nice if they stood up for you. Unfortunately Mademoiselle Gortschakoff seems to be out at the moment. Casquetti does not live here now, you know. I’d hate to tell you his present address.” The man’s heavy-jowled cheeks blanched to a dull yellow, and fear flickered in his eyes. Sheldon said afterwards that the mention of Casquetti’s name gave him a positive shock, as though a live wire had touched some part of his bare skin. "You mek ze arrest?” he demanded thickly. "Most certainly I do. You will be taken now to Scotland Yard, where the charges I have mentioned will be entered up against you. Perhaps I may think of a few more little things when I get you into a cab. Will you go quietly, or be handcuffed? I leave the choice to you, but warn you of rough treatment If you try to escape after promising to behave.” . "I haf done nozzing, me! bleated the other. "I am strangeaire in London. I haf no frents. I know nod Mademoiselle Gortschakoff or Signor

Casquetti.” ... . , "Funiculi, Funicula! squeaked Furneaux. "Innocence is oozing out of vou at every pore. What a gift to be able to reel off foreign names like that at first hearing!” He turned to Blake. "Would vou mind bringing a taxi here?” lie said. "Don’t hurry, or you may upset that poor heart of yours, which I want to be in good order for its next journey. And, don’t forget! The Milano, kept by one Pucci, at eight sharp. Meanwhile, you have a convincing story to tell now, and perhaps this lad may like to add a bright chapter or two when he finds we really mean business!” I CHAPTER VI.—THE HORIZON WIDENS. P'or a wonder, as Blake told himself I thankfully, his jou y in a taxircab to St, John’s Wood .toad was utterly | devoid of incident. lie did not even

find a masked man or veiled lady lurking among the dejected shrubs which led a precarious existence behind the high wall of the tiny garden in front of his house. Mrs. Wilson, his housekeeper, had no mysterious message in her keeping. Life seemed to have become commonplace once more. He went to his sitting-room on the first floor. From its bay window he could look across and up and down the street. Here was no excitement, no furtive watcher. Lord’s itself was hushed and eating its luncheon. The placards of the early evening newspapers announced that Middlesex was "in,” and hitting up a good score. Blake thought he would maintain his new repute as a detective, and change his clothes. He chose a dark grey suit a black bowler and black shoes. Nevertheless, his nerves were on tension. He had walked a good hundred yards in the direction of Maida Vale and Sutherland Avenue when he found he had forgotten his money, tobacco, and matches. The lapse did him good ! He laughed cheerfully and returned to l his flat. He* was retrieving those relatively , important belongings when the tele- ’ phone bell rang. He answered the call with the conventional “Hullo!” “Mr. Anthony Blake?” inquired a harsh, metallic voice with a marked New York accent. “Yes,” he said. "Mr. Blake himself speaking?” "Yes.” "We’d better straighten out any kinks. Are you the Mr. Blake who's _ got himself tied up in the Regent's • Park affair?” "Well —yes. Suppose you supply • some information now. Who art you?” . “Never you mind. I’ve just rung uj: to deliver the goods. If you’re a wise guy you’ll hit the pike out of this i little burg by the next fast express foi the North of Scotland or the Italiar Lakes, or any other old neck of the woods where you’ll be able to mind your own business. This is your first and last warning, and it’s the real dope. Get me?” "I wish I could get you, you swine,’ said Blake calmly’, but the words had not left his lips before he knew that they were lost in some electric switch, ; because the person at the other end of the wire had hung up. After a little delay he was in touch with the local exchange, and, a minute later was addressing the clerk iri charge. "I am well aware that you people will not tell the average inquirer the phone number which has originated a particular call,” he said. “I, however, received a call just now—two minute? since, to be exact —in which Scotland

x arcl will certainly be interested. Would you mind making inquiries i while the operator can trace it, so that 1you may supply the information if and 1 when the ‘Yard’ asks for it?” g A somewhat surprised official said t that the mattet* would be attended to; c then Blake was free to go out once t more. While noting the time of the r incident, and jotting down the precise c words used by the unknown adviser y and himself, he could hardly ignore the queer hazard which brought him back c to the flat at the moment the message r came through. There could be no r doubting its sinister import. He dis- i regarded the threat —rather welcomed < it, in fact, as supplying incentive to re- j newed effort—but the puzzling and c worrying question remained —whence had a self-confessed American crook obtained any knowledge of his 1 (Blake’s) somewhat intimate associa- * tion with the Regent’s Park crime? The fc one person in the world, outside the most exclusive police circle, who could j supply such information was Iris Ham- 1 ilton! He resolved to defer communicating with the "Yard.” "If that is the position of affairs,” ‘ he mused wrathfully, "it is high time I 1 realised it. What’s the of being a - stubborn fool, merely because I found 1 the girl charming and innocent-look- ( ing?” More than ever now was he determined to see her and get to know ex- s actly where he stood. It seemed im- * possible that she should be in Jeague 1 with a set of murderous criminals, but, on the other hand, why should he re- * fuse the evidence of his senses? Pie 1 regarded his OYvn future course as J quite clear. Once he had made certain 1 that Iris was betraying him he would J accept Furneaux’s offer and efface him- J self altogether in regard to the official j investigation into the manner and * cause of Robert Lastingham’s death. In ' that event the advice just tendered 1 over the phone was sound, and he ! might well act on it. The mere notion 1 of such a development brought a grim smile to his lips. * Almost subconsciously, he sought out an army revolver, and loaded it. The * size of the weapon, however, rendered 1 it incapable of being carried in any' 1 pocket of a light, summer suit. Even though he crammed it into any part of ( his clothing it would reveal a bulge 1 somewhat analagous to the hump on a 1 camel’s back. So, grinning at the stupidity of the thought of carrying arms —in that manner, at any rate—he < placed the revolver in a drawer of « bookcase-bureau which served his ; needs for correspondence. ] Then he strolled down the hill into i Maida Vale, and was soon at the door < of Iris Hamilton’s house in Sutherland Avenue.

So far as he could judge, not a soul in that placid suburb paid the least heed to him. True, , the inquisitive old lady of whom the girl herself had spoken peeped from behind her curtain. But that was probably the poor creature’s sole amusement. She passed the daylight hours in summing up her neighbours and forming utterly erroneous judgments about them and their visitors. He pressed an electric bell, and the door was opened by Iris in person. This was the last thing he expected. They stared at each other in silence, he rather flustered by the necessity of giving a prompt explanation of his presence, she quite obviously frightened. "Oh,’' he said at last. “Although I have called to see you, of course, I did not count on finding you on the doorstep. May I come in?” "No, no,” she whispered, almost wildly, he thought. ‘‘lt is impossible. Please go away.” "But isn’t this rather ridiculous?” he complained. "Surely I am a more adaptable person than a detective, and, let me assure you most solemnly, if you send me off unheard now, the immediate sequel must be the appearance of the police. She crimsoned at that. "I cannot refuse to admit the police,” she said, and it dawned on him that his plea had come perilously near an insult. "Really I might have expressed myself differently,” he urged, “but I blurted out the truth, for all that. The police have arrested the man we followed this morning. They have discovered a house in Soho where he and his associates gather. Quarter of an hour ago my own life was by some American tough in league with him. That doesn’t matter a jot, but it does matter tremendously that you should drive me forth without a hearing.” They both heard the sound of footsteps on the landing of the first floor. Iris positively blanched with dismay. Even her lips whitened. But she contrived to say, with the syllabic clearness of an enforced utterance "I am sorry I do not know the address of the person you are inquiring for. I have never even heard his name.” Then she added in the merest whisper: "Go now, for Heaven’s sake! I will come and see you.” f She shut the door in his face. A great pity for her welled up in his heart. instead of the self-possessed and courageous if saddened girl he had escorted that morning across Hyde Park he had found a timid creature, who resembled some caged and flut-

tering bird, anxious only to retreat to the uttermost recesses of its prison. Realising that he must eke out her subterfuge lest anyone should be spying from the upper windows, he rang at two houses opposite and asked if his friend, Monsieur Henri Blanc, lived there. One smiling maid-servant and one irate musical composer eased his mind on that point. After seeming to debate the problem of Monsieur Blanc’s whereabouts and give it up as insoluble, he walked slowly on, reaching his flat by a roundabout route. Of course, there was a baffling inconsistency about Iris’s sudden change of attitude. Was it something he had said which caused her to promise a visit? Had she recognised her own handiwork in the threat he spoke of, and did she now regret the unforeseen and dangerous outcome of a too candid outspokenness. In whom had she confided? Her mother, she said that morning, was gone to Brighton for the day. Who else lived in that somewhat large house? And did its occupants dispense with domestic help to the extent of Iris herself being compelled to answer the door-bell? The really irritating fact was that an interruption had occurred before she could give the vaguest indication of the time she would call. It might be that day, or the next, or next week for all he knew. Nevertheless, Antony Blake was not of the human clay which disintegrates because of worrying over something which might or might not happen in the near future. He did not hurry, but took an interest in the residential streets of a district hitherto unknown. Fully an hour elapsed before he sought Scotland Yard on the phone. When he asked for Mr. Furneaux or Mr. Sheldon he was assured, after a slight delay by someone with a mel-

low, resonant voice that both these gentlemen were out, but that tiie speaker, Mr. Winter, would be glad to take any message. “Are you the Chief Superintendent, sir?” inquired Blake. “Yes.” “Oh, I believe I shall have the honour of dining with you to-night.” “Capital. Where?” “At a restaurant kept by one Pucci, in Soho,” said Blake, feeling that he might, perhaps, be imitating the Dublin man who whenever he opened his mouth put his foot in it. "Ha!” laughed Winter—“one of Furneaux’s festivities. That’s all right. Mr. Blake. We shall be delighted to welcome you. I had not heard of the fixture, but that is nothing new in my humble career. When Furneaux gets really busy I obey orders unquestion - ingly.”

Blake thought he would like Mr. Winter. With soldierly brevity he j told of the warning he had received | over the telephone and also of Iris Hamilton’s almost distraught behaviour. The Chief was a man of j action. He asked Blake to hold on while he gave certain instructions. He was back at the instrument within a half-minute. “I have put through an inquiry to your exchange,” he said. “Meanwhile, did I understand you to say that you . had made a verbatium note of your short talk?” “Yes.” “Bring it to Pucci’s place this evening. What are your immediate plans?” ' “To stop at home, try and forget the ‘ Lastingham case by burying myself in a book, and await Miss Hamilton's 5 visit, if she pays it.” (To be continued.)