The Shadow Crook

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 582, 7 February 1929, Page 5

The Shadow Crook

By

Aidan de Brune

(Author of “Dr Night, • * “ The | Carson Loan Mystery,” ‘‘The ■ Dagger and the Cord, 1 * etc.) | (COPYRIGHT.) —^

CHAPTER Xlll.—Continued. No? The detective came to his feet with a cry of triumph. No. Stacey Carr had not told the secret of the hiding place of the missing jewels. He had gone from this world with still clouded memory. Unless some alien hand had removed the White Trinity and the Kynaston sapphires, they still in the hidden safe. t Cranford looked up, startled. In a few words the inspector outlined his reasonings. A alight smile rose to the barrister’s lips. C too, have thought, Inspector.” rose from his chair. ‘‘Will you eicQße me for a few minutes?” He left the room, to return accompanied by a young lady of about 22 or 23 years of age. Very gravely Cranford handed her to a seat and resumed his chair behind his desk. »oa asked me to tell you of Stacey arr s daughter, Inspector. Allow ? e to introduce you to Mrs. EtheringMiss Norma Carr.” Mrs. Etheringliam!” Mason was surprised. * k* ve assured Mrs. Etheringham 7 respect her secret,” the bar‘‘To connect Mrs. to-day with the sordid „ ry , of fivfl years ago would serve 110 good purpose.” ask^ d .v Miss M avne?" The Inspector «.. Question, anxiously. 3So',. a - ayn<! is m s r ward.” Norma to the !? a low voice - She turned Craa " etective - "inspector Mason, wjn '' ' ‘‘ Hughes assures me you !i f( j ' ® Euy confidence. I marhstl- ij ear at ter my father was unjot v'? nsorled - My husband does •'Tasan t* don t trouble to explain.” "There j° Se to feet, restlessly. »aat * 0 8 only one question I last night’” here was Miss Mayne M home.” ■ N arma e h eVening ~ all the night?” 'wily ,„r 8, ' ated - Sl,e had to speak “hsence s ° e diired not allow her There k° me to become known, '•tt niehf trouble at my home »is m“ v , she spoke carefully. "I ''h hn.K °' r i us t before dinner lus told h , Qd when a man entered. %ok. t. e Jf the notorious Shadow Jt the noinr ,* d my husband and I tilled a of ** is automatic. Then Wv ,° W , n the stairs for Mr. down n , came up he knocked L^_ esca Ped. I think ...” : Qood. b - Cream . Fr ® rkl ® 9 - Stillman’s : . t'tlew. r, T** guaranteed to remove r..?, 91510 a wonderful akin * a * Jar w*U. OD request. Prlca '" Chrt «chtwch W ‘ Hall, 117 Armae j ]

“Abel Miutos!” Mason turned t sharply at the name. “The Shadow r Crook and the owner o£ the White ; Trinity! Whew!” > "Mr. Miutos also owns the Kynas--1 ton sapphires,” added Norma, quietly, i “He lias been trying to persuade my husband to purchase them.” 1 | “But the Kynaston sapphires are I with the White Trinity. They have .j been lost since . . . since . . .” ; i "Since the day my tather was found ! insensible on the floor of his workroom.” The girl smiled faintly. “I 1 understand, Mr. Mason. Mr. Mintos told me he had purchased the reversion of the sapphires from Mrs. Kynaston.” “Purchased the. reversion of the sapphires?” The detective stuttered with surprise. “What oil earth for? Is the man mad? What hope has he of recovering the jewels after all this time?” “Yet you hope to discover them, Inspector.” Cranford spoke quietly. “You believe they are still hidden in the Carew Lane shop?” “I do.’.’ Mason hesitated a moment. “Mrs. Etheringham, have you any knowledge of where the jewels are hidden?” “No. Oh, if only I could find them!” The detective stood facing the girl, biting the end of his finger. A thousand questions crowded his mind. But he must work warily. First, he must CT ain this girl's confidence, and before that ... He turned to Norma, “Mrs. Etheringham, the boy, Frederick Mayne, will have to be identified. Of course, we have the fingerprints, but that is not the same to a coroner as a personal identification. “You want Mrs. Etheringham to identify the man you found last night as Frederick Mayne?” Cranford spoke quickly. “But can she?” “I saw him two or three times at the prison. I went with Isla to assure him I would take her into my care " Norma turned to the detective " “You understand, inspector, my father and Mr. Mayne w’ere friends in prison. Mr. Mayne was worried over his little daughter’s future. To please my father, 1 promised to take charge “ her Now I want her for her own sake. She is very dc.tr to me. ••I defended Frederick Mayne at hm , ” Cranford interposed. Would my identification be sufficient? You ; Sam“ a r; adopted daughter respect s Mrs. Etheringham’s secret.” ; “Sergeant Anderson _ photographed ( the o b tho“ght “Mm Ethering- 1 rnd°you? Mr. Hughes-wiU you

come down to police headquarters and identify the man by that photograph? That will be sufficient for me to work on, and I will get other evidence In time for the coroner.” Norma hesitated. What could she do? If she went with this man, he would show her the photograph of her father. She would have to swear that the man lying iu the morgue was Stacey Carr, and not Frederick Mayne. CHAPTER XIV. Cranford Hughes held the door for Norma to pass through. inspector Mason had risen from his seat and was waiting for her to lead the way from the room. A sudden panic shook the girl. What cou’d she do? In some way she must keep her father’s secret; somehow she must avoid this identification and allow the police to continue to believe they had found the body of Frederick Mayne. Yet she could not refuse the detective's request to go to headquarters without arousing his suspic ons. He would ask questions she could not answer. In the end the secret she had suffered so much to conceal would be revealed to all the world. Slowly she rose from her seat and walked to the door. She prayed,passionately, that something might happen to stay them —to help her in this ordeal. Must she go to this place of crime, gaze upon her dead father’s face and deny him? Out on the street she stumbled blindly, catching at Cranford's arm. “Be brave, Norma,” he whispered. “It won’t be so bad. Just one look at the photograph and then I’ll see they don’t worry you more.” She could not answer, only look up gratefully into his lean, clever face. If only she had a chance to tell him all. That morning she had come to his office prepared to tell him the full story of her father's escape from prison and her adventures the previous night. The story had been difficult to commence, and she had hesitated, talking on indifferent subjects. Almost had she succeeded in plucking up courage to commence her tale when Inspector Mason had been announced.

Now she blamed her folly -and indecision. If she had only spoken, if only she could have told her story before the police officer arrived! And Cranford thought she feared to look on a dead man's pictured face. He thought she was fearing one solitary minute’s ordeal; a glance, and the answer to one short question. He did not know that while her reluctant steps bore her closer to the tall, redbricked building at the end of the street, she knew not whether to tell a lie or confess to a truth that would astound the city—a lie that might for ever close the door she believed led to truth and the triumph of her father’s innocence. All too quickly they came to the corner of Hunter Street and turned to mount the steps leading into the big hall of Police Headquarters. Suddenly Mason stopped and faced round oil a uniformed constable following them up the steps. “M flat are you doing here, Kemp?

Who is on guard at the Carew Lane shop?” “Why, sir?” The man looked dumbfounded. “You’ve forgotten you sent for me to come here.” “Sent for you? I never sent for you. W T ho’s on guard at the shop?” “The man you sent down to relieve me, sir.” The man hesitated, conscious some mistake had been made. “About a quarter of an hour ago a man came to the shop and said you wanted me at once at Headquarters.” “You fool! Someone In plain clothes, I suppose. Get back, quick. If that man’s still there, hold him until f come down. Wait, I’ll come with you.” < “He was in uniform, Inspector.” “Uniform?” The detective stood with his mouth open, staring at the constable. “You mean to say a man in uniform came to the shop and sent you here?” “Just that.” The man turned back to the pavement, “i’ll go down and get him at once. To make a goat of me!”

He started to run down the street. Mason stood a few moments in thought, then turned to Cranford. “Will you take Mrs. Etheringham in to Sergeant Anderson, Mr. Hughes, and ask him to let you see the photograph he t“ook of Frederick Mayne. No.” He hesitated again. “I want to talk with you and Mrs. Etheringham about it. Mrs. Etheringham, may I bring the photograph to your home? I don’t want to ask many questions. Just the identification and that. I promise to be discreet.” “I prefer to meet you at Mr. Hughes’s chambers.” Norma spoke quickly. “Mr. Mintos is at my home, and —and I believe he is watching me.”

“That will suit me. I will advise Mr. Hughes of the time. Perhaps his chambers are best. I can get his identification as well. Now, I must go after that fellow. Please excuse me.”

Norma nearly cried out in relief. For some moments she could hardly move, watching the Inspector running down the-road, and jump into a cruising taxi. A strange dizziness came over her, and she clung heavily to the barrister’s arm. “Faint, Norma?” He looked down at her, anxiously. “No.” She could hardly articulate. “Cranford! Cranford. Oh, the relief! f . . . ” “Let’s get out of this.” The barrister spoke quickly. A quick glance at the girl’s face had shown him she was hysterical. He turned and -walked away in the direction of s chambers. “Bite it back, old g.rl. These windows belong to the police offices, and you don’t know who may overhear what we say.” (To be Continued)