Catching Up

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 240, 30 December 1927, Page 5

Catching Up

By

Henry C. Rowland.

Author of The. Dear Eccentric.” ** The Pedlar.* ” Duda,” &c., flee. 1 '

OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS J - AND ll—lt is Mrs. 9 rme s At Home day. Mr. Orme IjukTi 18 home and views his daughter, arr \ on S the guests. He notes the na ture of her costume, or rather, nc? of costume. Afterwards he I 0 and daughter that he is over financial matters. He tells nem that Jerry Heming has just missed oeing a millionaire. A friend of his, named Hazard, hailing from Kansas, *me of age a short time ago, and, being z| n A l ® thick of the fighting, made his in. His four beneficiaries were: Jerry periling, a Lieutenant Steele, Raymond his buddy, and a Salvation Army j OW 116 has sot through the fishton the day the armistice was signed he refused four million dollars for " 8 patch of prairie said to be floating in * oil. The Ormes go to the Opera .-omique. Lieut. Calvert Steele, A.E.F., r! now in Paris on furlough. He goes ion® to the Opera Comique and sits in t”®. next box to the Ormes. He sees recognises the face, but cannot , ow and where he has met her. He euaaenly recollects. It was on the z* Jean-de-Luz; he, a boy of twelve, rescued a pretty little girl from death by crowning. That was Isabel. He overthat Isabel is to ride with Mr. turn next morning, and he is at the avenue du Bois to time. He watches rlfie away. HI- AND IV.—Lieut. Cal--Bt®el® has an appointment with his commander, Captain . Gerald n«ming, to meet him in front of Foup!L?ts; They discuss the affairs of Henry Hazard, the two of them Zr,?* bis co-heirs, along with Agnes, the Army girl, ’and Raymond Wagm.i . American officer, bearing the m?p£f nia of Ma J°r. walks up. He recku# their presence to report to the havi ari *ry Intelligence officer. They v l" e to account for themselves the prerrn.Sj Private Hazard has been SK? er^ d in bed at his hotel a little after mwmgjjt The lntelligence officer. Major or£!! e ‘ and Calvert Steele, call on the intSu Answering the questions of the fJ:! Ul f® nce officer, Isabel provides a perVJy a hbi for Calvert Steele. Major White s?js, rts - Mrs. Orme, her daughter and r j® ei ® converse. Calvert tells them that aUKi Kerning Is unable to prove an D and has been ordered back to camp vcnaing investigation. Agnes was comW« o . n to Lady Audrey Chatteris, and ln that lady's villa at the time of murder. Raymond Wagner was out Calvert has an invitation to «nd the Ormes’s At Homes. CHAPTER V. (Continued). N^S Verybod y admits that lio was a j*oKiess dare-devil as a fighting man, tilat sort of sanguinary trait of 4L, lrac t e r counts more against a man for him in his regard for human

life in a case like this. He is known to have slipped the word to his men before going over the top to take no prisoners. And now in the last few hours we’ve dug up another fact against him. Perhaps you can give a little light on it.” The provost marshal leaned back in his chair and fastened his shrewd eyes on Calvert. “Do you think he was in love with this girl, Agnes ?” Calvert could not keep liis expression from betraying a certain admission of the possibility of this. “We were all pretty keen about Agnes,” he said. “She’s an uncommon pretty girl, and plucky as they make ’em.” “Do you know of Heming ever showing her any particular attention?” “He marched her to rear under guard one day, and he was right, as the shells were dropping pretty close. She was frying doughnuts and refused to go, so he made her.” “Do you know if he’d seen her here in Paris?” Poor Calvert found himself obliged to admit that Heming had mentioned seeing Agnes and knowing of her occupation and where she lived. “Well.” said the provost marshal dryly, “we’ve learned that Hazard, on getting leave, told some of his pals that he was coming to Paris to look up Agnes and ask her to marry him This would put Hazard in the postion of Heming’s rival and tend to remove a certain amount of compunction about killing him. On the other hand, his death would enrich not only Heming but Agnes, and give her that much added desirability.” “Has Heming been questioned about this?” Calvert asked. “Yes, and he admits frankly that he might have asked Agnes to marry him if he hadn’t been dead broke. So you see, Steele, things really look pretty black for him.” “It does beat the devil,” said Calvert, “how you can pile it on a man, once you start! Now if I were to be the councel for the defence, for which I fully intend to offer my services in the case of Heming’s court-martial, I think I could tear into some of these points.” “Well, shoot,” said the provost marshal. “Mind you, Steele. I’ve got no wish to see a brother officer indicted for as filthy a murder as this. Your request to be detached from further active service pending the investigation of this case will be approved, and I’ll see to it that you are transferred to my pack of sleuths. We don’t any of us want to believe Heming guilty if it can be helped. *lt would be a horrid blot on the A.E.F. But just between us, how w'ould you attack such incriminating evidence as now' stands?” “That’s not very hard,” said Calvert. “In fact, it all looks plain to me on the face of it that —with all respect to you Major—it wasn’t worth two sous. In the first place, if Heming, after learning of Hazard’s fortune, h ad wanted to kill him, he’d have managed it in a much more clever way.”

“No good, Steele. .Whoever, killed Hazard did so with scarcely any premeditation. The idea came all at once when he saw him lying there in a drunken sleep and knew that he hadn’t been seen going in with him. He took something—none of us knows what; perhaps the gimlet or one of these tool knives—jabbed it into him, then slipped out. It was a sudden impulse. Hazard lived long enough to shove the bell a couple of times, then collapsed.” “Well, about his going in early,” said he. “You’ve just said that not one concierge in a hundred knows when his lodgers go in and out, once lie’s in bed. And the fact of Heming’s being nearly broke would be a reason for his turning in early instead of knocking about.”

“There’s plenty of gratuitous amusement for a man like Heming on the streets of Paris,” said he, “and when a chap is broke he usually hates to go to bed.” Calvert was forced to admit the truth of this, and left the provostmarshal depressed but not discouraged. He decided first to go out to camp and interview Heming, who was with his company, stationed near Versailles. He found him in a hard, bitter, ironic mood. “Look here, Heming,” said Calvert, “just get it out of your head first and foremost that I’ve got the slightest suspicion about you. I know that you’re a victim of circumstances and I want to do my best to clear your name. For heaven’s sake, can’t you give me anything to work at?” “I wish I could, old chap,” Heming answered coolly. “There’s no doubt in my mind but that Hazard was purely and simply Apached. He probably flashed his roll for some thug, who took him back to his hotel intending to rob him.” “Then why should he have killed him ?” “Well, Hazard may not have been so drunk as you think, or else it Alight have been somebody he already knew.” “That’s an idea to go on,” said Calvert thoughtfully. “Why didn’t you suggest it?” “Because they all make me too damned sore,” Heming growled. “If they want to prove me a murderer let them go ahead and do it.” “That sort of attitude isn’t going to help you any.” ' * “I’m not asking any help. f say, though, there’s something you can do for me if you don’t mind. My sister, Juanita, is due to arrive in Paris day after to-morrow, coming from London.

I wish you’d meet her at the Gare du Nord.” “Of course,” Calvert answered. “Where’s she going to stop?” “She can go to my apartment in the Rue Pergolese. I sub-let it during the war and have only just moved in again.” “How’ll I know her?” Calvert asked. “You couldn’t miss her in a beauty show. She is a combination of Venus and Diana, with a large bale of honest-to-goodness red hair; and full of pep at all hours of the day and night; and smartly dressed.” “Wonder she hasn’t been grabbed off.” “Perhaps she may be when you see her,” said Heming with a grin. CHAPTER VI. Calvert had asked permission to apply himself to the investigation less because

that sort of work appealed to him or through any confidence for his own qualifications of sleuth than because he felt he owed it to his late friend and benefactor, the murdered man, to make every effort to bring his slayer to justice. But he shortly found that there was an enormous difference between the theory of tracing a crime and the practical application of any such. The scene of the murder had been immediately occupied by the French police, and tw'o or three experts had made a thorough examination of the premises, the body, and such people as might have been able to throw' any light on the affair. Calvert decided that a first important step in his effort at investigation would i

be to interview the distinguished American lawyer, Mr. Douglas Harker, to whom Heming had taken Hazard on the morning of the tragedy. Mr. Harker having undertaken the examination of Hazard’s affairs, would be naturally interested in probing the mystery of his client’s violent death, and quite aside from this would now have the administration of the fortune to be distributed among the four legatees. Calvert therefore called at the law offices of Mr. Harker the following morning at ten.

The polite, elderly door-man—of military aspect himself—paid no particular attention to the young American lieutenant beyond observing that he was rather broader and ruddier and squarer of jaw and brighter of eye than most of broad, ruddy, square-jawed.

I Sammies to be seen upon ! the streets of Paris. j The black-lashed girl at the desk found a much more lively interest in him. She reminded Calvert of a trim | carrier pigeon in full feather. To her ihe stated in fluent French his desire to speak with Mr. Harker. No, he did not have an appoinment, but his busi- | ness was purely professional and a little pressing. | Mademoiselle Odette handed him a pencil and he inscribed his name, Galj vert Steele, and after it his rank j£nd regiment. The name sounded vaguely familiar to the quick-witted girl, and i she glanced at his decorations, one of which was the Croix de Guerre. His j handwriting was like himself, she

thought, square and cleanly cut, and though regular, yet such as would prove difficult to forge. “One minute if you please, sir,” said she, displaying her own accomplishment. “I don’t think”—she had mastered the “th”—“Meester Harker is engage’ jus* now.” She ushered him into a large, handsome, high-ceilinged room which resembled the library or owner’s study in a rich, private house more than the office of a very busy and prominent international lawyer. A dark-complex-ioned wiry man was striding impatiently up and down as Calvert was shown “Good morning, Mr. Steele,” said he briskly, with a quick smile which pleasantly illumined for an instant a nervous and rather irritable face. “Is there any more light on this damnable affair?” “No, sir,” Calvert answered, a little astonished at the extreme contradiction between the brisk informal lawyer, evidently a Southerner, and his stately surroundings. “Have you seen Heming?” “Yes, sir.” “How’s he buckin’ up under it?” “He’s bitter and savage, and seems to take it with a scornful defiance Said to me: "This is what a man gets for being a hard fighter and tearing into the Hun. If I had been a conscientious objector they’d say I couldn’t possibly be guilty of such an atrocious crime, but because I treated ’em rough they take it for granted I must have a murderous streak—and they’re right.* ” “Well, there’s something in that,” admitted Mr. Harker. “Just now we have to deal with a new and peculiar class of criminals. The war has left a lot of men in a neurotic state •which can’t be classed as shell shock, but rather a lack of mental control under sanguinary impulses. It looks bad for Heming. A powerful motive, recent experiences which have produced a sort of paralysis in respect for human life, ease of accomplishment and a knowledge of our American criminal procedure, where

circumstantial evidence is seldom enough for conviction, and the burden of the proof of guilt is thrown upon the prosecution instead of the proof of innocence on the defendant, as under the French Napoleonic code. All the same, I don’t believe he’ did it.” “Of course he did not do it, Mr. Harker!” Calvert cried. “No doubt your psychology is right enough, but Heming is not one of these neurotics you mention. His rough stuff was all for the enemy. He was gentle as a brother W'ith his sick and wounded.” The lawyer took a few brisk turns, tugging at his thin, black, wiry moustache. Suddenly he swung about on Calvert with a gleam in his dark, snapping eyes.

Ho you know, Steele, I do not know* but what we might do worse than fall back on the old French criminal proverb of “Cherchez la femme.” “But they said a woman could scarcely have managed it,” Calvert said. “Not with her own hand. 1 saw the body. The wounds had been made with some short, thin, ragged implement that appeared to have been rather blunt and needed a lot of force to drive in. The blows were so hard that the flesh was all contused, and there were curious circular bruises of which the wounds w*ere the centres. It looked as if the very force of such thumps over the heart of a drunken man might have been enough to stop it. A knife would have had a cutting edge, and a hatpin or stiletto gone in deeply. Nobody able to suggest what sort of a tool it might have been. I don’t think for a moment a woman did it, but I believe there is a woman behind it somewhere. The crime was not premeditated. If it had been, the assassin would have provided himself w’ith a real weapon.” “Ho you think,” asked Calvert, “that Hazard might have drifted into some low dive and got foul of a girl of some apache?” “I believe the motive had to do with this inheritance, and that the assassin

had some direct interest in it. At sight of Hazard’s helpless condition it may have flashed across his mind that the chance was too good to be lost, and that the blame would be pretty sure to be placed upon one of you four legatees. He may have known something about Heming’s record, which was not brilliant before the war. They showed me his dossier in the prefecture. This record inscribes him as of irregular habits, occasional disreputable associates, remiss in his money obligations, furniture seized by the landlord, the smuggling of cigarettes and matches from London, cafe brawls, for one of which he was forbidden to enter Maxim’s for a year.” “They dont miss much, do they?” said Calvert. “Where does the woman come in?’* “How' about this girl Agnes?” the lawyer demanded “What if site were secretly in love w'ith her co-heir, Raymond Wagner?” “But Raymond was down in camp.” “Are you dead sure? Is there any more reason to believe that Raymond was in camp between 10 and 12 than that Heming was not in his apartment at that time? Has a soldier never been known tq sneak out after ‘lights out’ and get back before reveille? Jle very likely had a mash on Agnes.” “Good Lord!” said Calvert. “He was Hazard’s buddy!” Mr. Harker glanced at the clock. “Next to disobedience of orders of the commanding officer, fratricide is the oldest crime of which we have any record.” he said. “I refer to the laps® of Adam and Eve. followed by the assassination of Abel.” The desk telephone rang. Mr. Hanker spattered into it a blast of French, in his pleasing southern accent, then glanced at Calvert. “There’s Miss Agnes now.” he said. “She telephoned for an appointment. Hon’t go. You might as well hear what she’s got to say.”