Island’s Thorne

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 559, 11 January 1929, Page 5

Island’s Thorne

(Serial Story)

(Published by Special Arrangement)

—► BY

FRANCIS VIPOND

CHAPTER XVIII. —Continued. “Drury—Miss Katherine Drury, ’ answered the clergyman, all unsuspecting that he was being drawn. "They only stayed two days at Altnaßiach, as Ormandy had to return on account of some important business. A marriage by special licence 's such a rare event in my quiet life f hat I remember all the details connected with it well.” Exactly—quite so." murmured Wroale rather incoherently. For once in his well ordered life he was token thoroughly aback * Should you see Mr. and Mrs. I Ormandy soon," persisted the prim ’Dice, whose owner was blissfully unor.scious of the commotion he had 'iiouaed. “perhaps you will be kind 'Hough to remember me to them, and tel! them I was asking after them. Moore is my name—George Moore — of course if you say the clergyman w ho married them they will remember at once.” * will not forget.” said Wroute mechanically. Me busied himself with his tuings. This is a pretty how-do-you-do.” ; e “And what the dickens * la hiily lawyer to find himself placed Whatever course I take, I stand D land someone ir» a pretty mess.

Katherine, too! Katherine, of all people! The very last woman in the world I should have expected to have (lone such an extremely unwise thing.” ) The brakes grated harshly, and the heavy train checked its career as these unpleasant thoughts passed through his mind. Then they ran slowly past the signal box, goods yards and points, and crawled cautiously into the great junction. Wroule lost no time in collecting his possessions, and bidding his fellowtraveller farewell, and as they drew up at the long platform he flung open tho door of the carriage, gave his 1 things to a porter, sprang out, and was soon hurrying out of the station. He glanced, as he always did, at the great clock over the booking hall. The hands pointed to 8 a.m. ‘‘Half an hour late,’* said Wroule; “not so bad, but 1 shall have to hurry. Hullo, Lord Francis’ Now, look here, our appointment is not till this afternoon ” He paused, his demeanour changing. ‘‘What is it. man? Is anything the matter?” Lord Francis did not speak, but motioned to Wroule to follow, and pushed his way through the crowd of people hustling each other. When they were clear he halted. “I thought the damned train was

never coming,” he said pettishly, taking Wroule by the arm. “Come out of this bear garden. I have a very grave piece of news to tell you. Why tlm devil did you drive things as late as this, coming back from London at tlio very last moment?” “It was impossible for me to come earlier,” replied Wroule resignedly, though more than a little puzzled, as he climbed into the motor which Lord Francis had in waiting, and they were borne through the narrow streets of Nidchester. “I worked up till train time.” He saw that Lord Francis was disturbed and worried, and wondered greatly what had transpired to upset that usually imperturbable gentleman’s equanimity. Could it be, he asked himself, that the facts which the Rev | George Moore liad divulged to him in the train had come to light here also? “Where are we going?” he inquired, i as he noted that the car was not going u the direction he expected. “To Island’s Thorne,” was the brief reply. “But look here. I’ve had no breakfast, I want a bath and a shave, I’ve been travelling all night,” Wroule began to protest, but Lord Francis silenced him. “You must wait,” he said. “Wroule, Mr. Thorne was murdered late last night.” “Good God!” broke from Wroule’s lips. He was shocked beyond words. “Who murdered him?” “I have no notion, but I have had to sign a warrant for Hugh Ormandy’s arrest,” returned Lord Francis, taking off his cap the better to mop his damp face. “I tell you this thing has upset me. Damned unpleasant job all round. I haven’t felt so bad about anything that I ever remember. The police came knocking me up about six o’clock this morning. To think that we were to have been at Island’s Thorne this very day over the will business, and now John Thorne lies dead, and the will can never be changed. I cannot realise it. It seems like some evil dream.” “But tell me,” commanded Wroule ! in his level voice, which did not be-1 tray his feelings in the least, “what lias turned suspicion on Hugh Ormandy, why do they think that he is j the murderer? I suppose you must think so. too, and have some grounds for doing so or you would not have allowed this warrant for his arrest to have been issued? If you had asked me 1 should have said that Ormandy was the last person to murder anybody. To put it plainly, I do not think the fellow has enough pluck.” “Oh, I know all that.” Lord Francis spoke irritably. “But he was the last person to see Mr. Thorne alive. It. is known that there was an interview, for the valet, that Corsican chap, Mattei Lucca, took a tray in and left them together. He waited for Mr. Thorne to come to bed, lie heard Hugh leave the room and go to his own quarters; then, after some time, when his master did not come, he went to make sure that he was all right, and | found him with liis head battered to pulp, quite dead. Then Hugh’s rifle was beside the body, and there is little doubt but that it had been used | as a club to do the old man to death. 1 learn that he kept his rifle in a rack in his bedroom, not with his guns in ihe gun-room. He had a habit of going out at odd hours to shoot hawks and stray; things of that kind. It is strange, |

though it was found loaded, the cartridge was in the breech, the barrel was quite clean. John’s head had been smashed with heavy blows from the stock.” Lord Francis shuddered, and his wizened face looked very pinched and white at the recollection of the horrors he liad seen. “Where is Ormandy?” asked Wroule, trying to collect liis scattered wits. “I suppose he is in the hands of the police?” “There you are wrong,” cried Lord Francis. “He is not, and for a very excellent reason. When they went to arrest him he could not be found. Hugh Ormandy has vanished into space.” “Yes,” he said, slowly. “Ormandy has a devotion to Island’s Thorne that is really almost an obsession. There | is my father/ Miss Thorne, taking his CHAPTER XIX.—NO NEW’S OF HUGH The appearance and general atmosphere of Island’s Thorne chilled John Wroule as he followed Lord Francis from the automobile. The lowered blinds gave the great house a furtive, secretive air, as though it hid some sinister mystery, as indeed it did, and a stout policeman enhanced this idea as he paced the courtyard on patrol duty. Simmons’s face, when he admitted them, was unusual, for it was swollen and disfigured almost beyond recognition by grief. As the two newcomers reached the library on the upper floor the door opened, and the police superintendent from Nidchester Appeared, hesitating on the threshold when he saw who was coming toward him. “Glad to see you, Mr. Wroule,” he said. “This is an ugly business. It is a most unaccountable crime, too, for there seems to have been no motive for it.” Wroule’s mouth tightened. It struck him that he could provide a clue which would show a very good motive why Hugh Ormandy, carried away bj r sudden passion, should have been driven to make the attack on his uncle which had cost him his life; but the time had not come yet for him to speak, and he held his peace. “Any news of Ormandy yet?” he inquired as he entered the darkened room with the superintendent and Lord Francis. “No,” returned Mackey, the superintendent, “there is not. He has disappeared without leaving a trace. I am expecting a man down from Scotland Yard this afternoon. The inquest is to be held to-morrow at noon.” Wroule nodded, and looked about him with eyes that were careless and idle no longer, but very keen and alert, marking every detail. The body of the murdered man had been removed, but a dark stain on the thick piled Axminster carpet showed where it had lain. Near to the grim mark of the tragedy lay a shattered whisky decanter, and the remains of glasses; peaches and nectarines were strewn about the floor, and there were evidences everywhere that a tray had been overturned, and that a grim struggle had taken place. As Wroule stared about him the door opened quietly, and Neil Fraser came in. His strong face was very stern and set. “I hope you will be able to help us. Wroule,” he said. “This is the weapon that was used.” 1-Ie took a small rifle from a table, j

and handed it to the lawyer. It was a strongly made weapon, but so great had been the force with which it had been used to deal the death-blow that the hardwood stock was dented; it was also splashed with new dried bloodstains, and some white hairs clinging to it told their own grisly tale; even the barrel of thick, hard steel was bent and twisted. Wroule examined it carefully and closely, without saying a word; then, as he laid it down, he glanced at Fraser and raised his eyebrows to indicate surprise. “Ormandy must be a much stronger man than I ever though him,” he said drily. “I am of the same opinion.” returned Fraser, with a comoreheusive shrug of his shoulders. Wroule turned to Mackey. “Anything else that may help” be asked bluntly. The superintendent took some papers from the writing table and held them out. “These were apparently left lying just as Mr. Thorne had had them,” he said. “One is a holograph will dated some years back. The other would appear to be a draft for a new will.” “We know about that,” said Wroule. “Mr. Thorne had intended to sign it to-day.” Wroule gave him back the papers without comment. “Has Miss Thorne been told yet?” was his next question. “No.” It was Fraser wlio spoke. “I am going to tell her as soon as I leave here. I am afraid it will be a terrible shock to her.” “I will send my daughter over to take her back to Underhanlt,” said Lord Francis. “She will be better out of this place for the present: this is man’s work, not woman’s. I think we have about finished for the present, have we not, Mackey? So we may as well depart, I’m thinking.” The three men went slowly out of the room of horror, leaving the superintendent to guard it. It was a relief to them all to be once more out in the sunshine, and they heaved a sigh as they left the house of death. Lord Francis entered his motor, and started on his return to Underbank, and Wroule and Fraser made their way on foot down the winding drive. “Do you believe that Ormandy is guilty of this crime?” asked Wroule, after a lengthy cilence which had brought them nearly to the gates. “No,” returned Fraser, and he spoke with decision. “I do not. First of all, I do not think that he is a physically strong enough man to have twisted up the barrel of that rifle. Then, again, he is not the type of man to give way to a fit of blind rage such as must have possessed the murderer who battered in Mr. Thorne’s head. That was the work of ungoverned passion, a bestial action; no, I do not think Ormandy was the perpetrator ” “On the other hand,” said Wroule, “why should Ormandy have vanished

iin ti\e way lie lias done if lie had no hand in the affair? Men with clear consciences do not disappear when a crime closely touching them and their interests is committed.'’ “There you have me,” admitted Neil. “Then there is also Mattel Lucca. He swears he was in Mr. Thorne’s bedroom the whole evening after he brought up the tray of fruit and whisky to the library. He had the door of the room open, and it was impossible for anyone to pass along the corridor without his seeing them.

There is no other means of entering the library, and he says no one but Hugh passed down the corridor. Hugh came out of the room and went to his own quarters, as he had done a hundred times before. It was quite usual for him and his uncle to have an interview before retiring for the night, but it was when Mr. Thorne showed no signs of coming to bed that Mattei grew uneasy and went to sec what had happened. He found Mr. Thorne on the floor, and thought he had had a heart attack, but when he went to him he found out the true state of affairs. I-le had heard nothing of the struggle,

but that is not to be wondered at, for ; the walls audfdoors of Island’s Thorne ] are so thick and well constructed that 1 they are practically sound-proof. Also, the corridor is a long one. and there < is a dressing-room as well as a bath- i room between Mr. Thorne’s bedroom 1 and the library.” i "How about Lucca?” queried ’ Wroule. “He is a Corsican, and Corsi- 1 cans are queer-tempered fellows.” 1 “He has always shown himself a 1 faithful and devoted servant,” said 1 Fraser. “Hugh has drawn down suspicion on himself by bolting in this 1 absurd way, and as there is no motive j ; whatever for suspecting Lucca no guilt is attributed to him. The poor j ‘ fellow is heartbroken. He has col- ; lapsed, as these foreigners so often do in a crisis.” “He hated Ormandy—jealous of him and his influence with Mr. Thorne, I think,” went on Wroule, trying to get 1 something tangible on which to work. “Fraser, do you think Miss Thorne i would have married Hugh? Is there 1 anything between them?” - A dull flush rose on Fraser’s face. 1 He hesitated. “They are excellent comrades,” he said, almost unwillingly. "He certainly seemed to be strongly attached to her. She, too, liked him, X fancy, She pitied him, was sorry for him in his narrow, cramped life. I do not ■ think she is in love with him, and slie ; is not the woman to marry a man for the sake of marrying or for possessions; but when pity stirs a woman's - heart there is no knowing where it will lead. I may be mistaken, but. I think that is pretty well how things ] stand between them.” , “Thank God it has gone no further,” said Wroule earnestly. “If she had j , loved him there is that in this Imsi- , ness which would have broken her . heart.” „ Fraser glanced at the lawyer curiously, wondering what he knew. It was evident that more facts relating to Hugh were known to Wroule than were given to the world at large, and his surmise was that these facts were such that they would not improve Hugh’s case. “I am not sure,” he said, “but I have a theory of my own about this ! murder. I think it is possible that I may be able to clear Ormandy. When I have told Miss Thorne the facts, I am going to get to work, make some inquiries, and put my ideas to the test. Till I see if they are feasible I shall keep them to myself if you do not mind. I am hoping to be able to bring the results of my theory forward to morrow at the inquest, or if X am not ready quite so soon, the next day. In any case, if they have not been able to find Hugh and arrest hint, it will not make much matter.” “Did you see the draft of the new I will?” asked Wroule. “Yes,” answered Fraser. “There is ; iust the chance that Hugh knew the contents of it too, but if he did I do not see what material difference that would make, for the idea that he was to marry his cousin, with whom he >s j very obviously falling in love, would ; hardly make him rise up and murder j his uncle. Rather be would welcome : | the lever it gave him in winning her.” i A grim smile hovered round the i corners of Wroule’s mouth. [ “A year or two ago Hugh was just j

'as much in love with Miss Drury as he now is with Miss Thorne,” lie remarked drily. "Men of his temperament are not constant in their affections as a rule," said Fraser. “Besides, we all know that the one great passion of his life is Island’s Thorne. He knows very well that Katherine Drury is not the kind'of woman to bring an action for breach of promise against a lover who had tired of her, whatever their relations may have been.” The smile spread over his whole face as Wroule paused at the lodge gates. “Well, we part here,” he said. "Good luck to your investigations. I am going to see Miss Drury.” He strode off up the road, leaving Neil Fraser staring after him. “Wroule had something up bis sleeve,” he thought. t “I wonder what he wants with Katherine Drury?” He walked slowly along the winding, stone-wailed road to “The Nest,” where he found Sydney in the garden waiting for him, for he had promised to take her salmon fishing. CHATTER XX. —KATHERINE’S ORDEAL. Katherine Drury, busy among her bees, turned in surprise at the creak which announced the opening of her garden gate. Her face was serene and untroubled; plainly she had heard nothing of the tragedy at Island's Thorne, and Wroule’s thought that Hugh might have gone to her after the murder died as she came towards him with a pleasant smile and words of welcome. “You are early,” she said, takiug off her heavy gloves and throwing back the veil which had protected her face and neck. “I thought you were in London.” “I have only just come hack,” said Wroule, hating the task before him. “Katherine, I have come to ask you something. Do you know where Hugh Ormandy is?” Katherine’s face changed: the glow of healthy colour faded from her cheeks till they were quite white, and her manner became grave to correspond with that which he had adopted. It was so unlike Wroule to be grave and stern like this. Something was evidently wrong. “Mr. Ormandy” she said, anxious question in her eyes. “Surely he is at Island’s Thorne? Why do you come and ask me I have not soeu him, nor has he told me he was going ■ away.” (To be continued.)