The Green Bungalow

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 412, 21 July 1928, Page 20

The Green Bungalow

BY A POWERFUL WRITER.

sllil

Fred M. White.

Author of “ The Crimson BSnd,” “ The Cardinal Moth." “The House on the River." Arc., Ate.

CHAPTER XII.—VANISHED. “Indeed?” Nettie said. “Then perhaps you • knew my father as well. I wonder if you could tell me anything about him? My relatives never would. All I could find out from them was that he died not long after I was born.”

“Ah, I couldn’f do that,” Mrs. MacIglendy went on. “But I did know the man that your mother was engaged to previously. It was quite a remarkable story in its way, but I don’t think we need go into that. Now, I want you to be guided by me, if you will.” • It seemed to Nettie that Mrs. Macglendy’s manner had suddenly changed. She was no longer white and listless, her eyes had a sparkle in them as she leant forward and laid her hand upon Nettie’s knee. “I am quite sure you mean well.” Nettie said. “But I shall be glad if you will be a little more candid. You see, T am more or less alone in the vorld, with my living to get.” “But you are not bound to do that.” Mrs. Macglendv said. “Well, no.” Nettie admitted. “That is true enouerh. T could go back to the aunt who brought me up "f T liked, but life in that austere house was almost unbearable. T shall never voluntarily return to my aunt’s roof. Perhaps you knew Lady ” “I know her very well indeed.” Mrs. Macglendv said. “And perhaps you are right. But T don’t want you to stay anv longer where you are. And nlease don’t think T am impertinent. T know what T am talking about, though T am afraid T cannot do inore than hint at things. Miss Frond, do I look like a happy woman?” Tt was a direct nuestiou that obviously came from the sneaker’s heart, and all Nettie’s sympathy went out to her “No, you don’t.” she said fearlesslv. “You look to me like a woman with a history. Oh, please don’t, mistake me. I mean one who is dreadfully unhappy through no fault of her own.” “My dear child, you could not have put it better jf you had known me all your life. Of all the women in England I am the most miserable. And none the less so. because T brought it all upon myself. I shall have to go on suffering to the end. but that is no reason why I should sit quietly down and see a young life like yours wrecked for the want of a warning. T have told you'that your mother was a friend of mine, and T could have told you a great deal more if I only dared. But you must leave Mr. Shute, you must indeed. Don’t ask me to say any more than that. I could not have even told you this.

if my husband had not been away on business, and I ” At that moment the manservant looked into the room and announced Mr. Blythe. The latter followed, and raised his eyes interrogatively as ho saw Nettie seated there. He obviously paused for an introduction, which came in due course. “I asked Miss Frond to come and see me,” Mrs. Macglendy said with an appealing air, and the attitude of a child who feels that she might be doing something wrong. “And why not?” Blythe said genially. “I am sorry to intrude, but I wanted to see your husband. Your man told me that he was away for a day or two, so perhaps you will give him this note. Miss Frond, I think I have seen you before. Haven’t you lunched once or twice lately at the Metropolitan with my acquaintance, Captain Harley? Or am I mistaken?” “Oh, no,” Nettie smiled. “You see, T am engaged to Captain Harley, though it is not confmon property at present.” Blythe murmured something appropriate to the occasion, and a moment or two later Nettie rose and took her leave. She had had her warning, and there was no occasion to linger there any longer. Blythe turned to Mrs. Macglendy. “What’s the meaning of all this?” he asked. “I couldn’t help it,” Mrs. Macglendy said. “After what you told me, I could not allow that girl to stay where she was. I hope I haven’t done any harm.” “I don’t think so,” Blythe said. “She must know all about it before long. But if you value the child’s happiness, you will not interfere again without consulting me. Now, give this note to your husband when he comes back, and say no more about it. If you want me at any time, a line to the Metropolitan will be sufficient. Blythe turned out presently into the mellow sunshine of the soft October evening and walked along the front. There were half a dozen newsboys running along the pavement with the six o’clock edition of a local evening paper. Blythe stopped and bought

one, impelled by what the boy was crying, and opened the sheet. There in big: letters inside was an announcement that Instantly attracted his attention. It was just one big blaek headline, containing the words “Oh-o,” Blythe murmured to himself, “so things are beginning to move, are they? I wonder what the police would say If they knew how much I could tell them about this little business.”

In the seclusion of the lounge at the Metropolitan, Blythe read the details as far as they went. There was a good deal of it, and “our special

correspondent had evidently made the most of the Information which he had been able to pick up. “It appears,” the paragraph ran, “that during the absence of Lord Fishbourne in London, a daring burglary took place a night or two ago at Fishbourne Towers. Late at night the thieves entered the butler’s pantry by way of a window that opens on to a large open space at the back of the house, and looks across a field to the main road beyond. Every-

thing was all right when the butler retired to bed at about eleven o’clock in a room immediately behind his own pantry, where he slept soundly till morning. In the light of recent events, it is suggested that he slept only too soundly, owing to the fact that in some unaccountable manner him. According to our information, the daring thieves managed to drug the butler had supper alone shortly before ten o’clock, and with that he drank a couple of glasses of port wine out of his own decanter. Seen by our representative, the man declared that he had felt more than usually sleepyfi and that he slept beyond his usual hour. This did not occur to him to be anything out of the common, and as the big safe in the pantry containing the whole family plate had apparently not been tampered with, he thought no more about it. The family was away, and there was no occasion to go to the safe. “On Lord Fishbourne’s arrival at the Towers on the following evening, his lordship went at once to the butler’s pantry and asked to see the contents of the safe. When it -was opened, the famous Celini dinner service had vanished. It was usually put up in cases, which were wrapped in green baize sacks. Apparently the thieves knew exactly what they were unique service of plate, leaving everything else behind. It seems to have been an exceedingly neat piece of workmanship, because the lock on the safe was uninjured, and immediately responded to the application of the after, for they had taken the almost butler’s key. So far as we can ascertain, the safe in question was an oldfashioned one, which would present few difficulties to an up-to-date burglar. “Seen by our representative, Lord Fishbourne had a strange story to tell. He had been warned in London that something was wrong, and had been advised anonymously to return to Fishbourne Towers and make inquiries at once, which he did. As to the rest, his lordship was exceedingly reticent, though we hope to give further particulars in our next Issue. All this was the more unfortunate, because Lord Fishbourne is entertaining a considerable number of guests at Fishbourne Towers this week-end.” Later. “We are informed at the moment of going to press that the thieves missed a rare chance, seeing that all Lady Fishhourne’s jewels were in a drawer at the back of the safe. Lady Fishbourne. as everybody knows, is a daughter of Cyrus J. Corner, the great American millionaire and collector of precious stones. Indeed, Lady Fishbourne’s jewels are almost unique.” Blythe sat pondering over this information till it was time to dress for dinner, then he put the matter out of his mind altogether and went off to SAVES MONEY REMARKABLE COUGH MIXTURE RECIPE (By a Qualified Chemist) Here is a wonderful money-saving remedy for coughs and colds. A bottle of “Heenzo,” a little sugar, treacle, and a large breakfastcupful of water, and you have a pint of the finest family cough mixture procurable. Think of it! Eight bottles for the price of one! Isn’t that a worth-while saving? "Heenzo” (Hean’s Essence) takes hold of a cough more quickly than any other medicine you have ever tried. Also, it is a splendid remedy for croup, whooping-cough, chest pains, bronchitis, asthma, and many other similar throat and King troubles. Try a bottle. Only 2s 6d, at all chemists and stores. But be sure you stipulate "Heenzo.” Xo other will do. —l2

the theatre with a party of friends. It was after breakfast the following morning, just as he was leaving his hotel for a stroll on the front, that he found himself face to face with Nettie Frond. She seemed rather upset and disturbed as he paused before her in his bland, fatherly way, and asked If he could he of any sort of assistance. “Well, really, I don’t know,” Nettie said resolutely. "You are a friend of Mrs. Macglends-’s, and she, for some reason, takes an interest in me, so perhaps you can help. I wonder if you have seen Captain Harley this morning?” “No, I haven’t,” Blythe said. “Hasn’t he gone to London?” “i don’t think he would have done that without telling me,” Nettie said. “He did not come back to the hotel the night before last. I know. Would you mind inquiring for me?” Blythe intimated that it would be a pleasure to do so. and he emerge a minute or two later, just a little uneasy, though there was no suggestion of that on his smiling face. For the second night, Harley’s rooms had not been occupied, and when Blythe suggested at the office that the missing man might be on bis yacht, he was informed that the steward of the Mayfly had come on shore half an hour previously inquiring for news of his employer. That there might be something serious behind. all this, Blythe did not disguise from himself. But for the present, at any rate, he had no intention of mentioning his suspicions to Nettie. “I can’t hear anything of the Captain,” he said. “But then, he might be on the sea. However, I will make inquiries, and if, in the meantime, I can help you in any way, I shall be exceedingly pleased. Now, Miss Frond, I want you to regard me as a friend: indeed, I am somewhat more than that, if you only knew it. I maysay that, to a certain extent, I am in Captain Harley’s confidence. It will be an honour if you trust me.” He spoke in all sincerity, this soldier of fortune who respected no man, and who regarded the world as his bank. And yet, at that moment, it would have been impossible even for the most cynical to have doubted that he meant exactly what he said. Most certainly Nettie did not do so, and, on the impulse of the moment, she told Blythe exactly what was troubling her. “I don’t know what to do,” she said. “Only yesterday I had a note from Mrs. Macglendy, asking me to call upon her. At first I thought she was just a little mad, then I realised that she was a woman in some great trouble.”

“That is perfectly true,” Blythe said gravely. “But please go on, Miss Frond, I am interrupting you.” “I was greatly impressed by what ! she said, though it was not very much ■ after all. But she implored me, without delay, to give up my situation with Mr. Shute and seek something elsewhere. I think she would have told me a great deal more, only you happened to come in the room at the time, btill, I was so impressed that I had practically made up my mind to do what Mrs. Macglendy asked, and, indeed, I intended to go to one of the typewriting agencies this morning and seek a fresh situation. But, just as I was coming out of my lodgings, I had a telegram from Mr. Shute telling that I was to meet him this afternoon at Fishbourne Towers.” What?” Blythe exclaimed. "‘W'hat?” "Meet him at Fishbourne Towers. He is staying there for a few days. He wants me to take my work and typewriter over there and tells me that I am to live in the house.” (To be Continued.) ! All Trades Catered by Bert Marshall.