The Shadow Crook

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 589, 15 February 1929, Page 5

The Shadow Crook

~ : By

Aidan de Brune

. (Author of “Dr Night,” “The Carson Loan Mystery,” “The Dagger and the Cord,” etc.) , — (.COPYRIGHT.) a.

F CHAPTER XXX (Continued) “That so Mintos has committed him, I suppose?” "As bad as can be.” The inspector Wht until his lips were but a few ■oches from the little solicitor's ear. Dout look astonished, and I’ll admit a series of adventures in Mintos's “** yesterday evening, and the early fait of the night. I’ll admit I went dirough his papers with a fine tooth'omb, and that it's at my instance the Mice and Crown Law Department are tow in occupation of Mintos’s flat, •here’s another matter I’m working but keep that strictly under your hat." He glanced around him. then bent °wer and whispered half-a-dozen 'ords. Mostyn jumped back as if the *hsHector had bit him. By the Recording Angel!” The JMcitor’s eyes were popping out of “;Shead. “You don’t mean that! Abel •"lutos, the Sha . . Tell the street!” the inspector’s ■°°t came heavily on the little man’s Jes “All this is between you and I, «• Mostyn. Use it, but don’t let your "'l''tlihat get a line on it, or the fat ‘f* be 'n the fire with a vengeance.” -lason nodded and swung up the toward police headquarters, " WUy glancing at Etheringham standL® on the steps of the building. He r* s not too well pleased with himself, ik , ad sai<l more than he intended to \vk-tle solicitor. -'ile watching Abel Mintos in the ntrai Police Court the thought had “ a ‘ a recurred to him that the Jew aiffi 1 1* 16 the Crook. It was Sgu CU 1 tC * ma S' ue the stout, squat ~ , re *he company prom jeer couSh a j the la hky, tall figure of the Crook. Yet, careful disguise Cover a lot. j ew Be emed absurd to imagine the oajl carrying a superabundance of tover E if- about Him, day after day, to ta.,, Els secret night activities as the j Cro °k. But that would be tew if 10,1 au swered wiiuiu the ne.xi wqiiih ° Urs ' At Long Bay Mintos »ssum^°° U Bhetl any disguise lie had yarned. The sao i authoritie3 heM lion .JAA f° r a thorough oxamiuaOn ,h tUe Jew ' 3 Person, issitat-j steps of headquarters Mason “Ora-A Etheringham would be mr some time with his solici-

tor. He had a splendid opportunity to get to Hose Bay and have a quiet talk with Norma Etheringham. There were many points on which he wished to question her. He turned up to Macquarie Street and walked to Queen Square. Cutting down beside St. Mary’s Cathedral he came into William Street and boarded a tram. Half-an-hour later he walked up the drive to “Avonlea.” Norma, Isia and Cranford were seated on the verandah, watching his approach. “Abel MLntos is remanded in custody for seven days.” The detective knew he was not carrying bad news. “It is probable the charge against him will be altered within a few days to one more serious. I’ll take care there is no bail.” “Abel Mintos in prison! The fat, ugly beast!” Isla clapped her hands. “I hate that man, Norma. He’s .. .” “Isla!” Norma could not help smiling. She turned to the inspector. "My husband?” Mason hesitated. Had he to teil this girl that her husband stood an excellent chance of standing in the dock beside the Jew? She had suffered a hell on earth during the days of her father’s trial. What answer could he make. He commenced to speak, but Cranford, who had been watching him keenly, interposed. "I guess Mr. Etheringham has to j consult with his solicitors. Norma,” | the barrister spoke easily. “He has ■ been speculating freely under Mintos’s advice. Now he has to make a clean breast of the business to someone who can help him.” “That's just it.” Mason was relieved. “I saw Mr. Etheringham at the court, and later in Hunter Street with Mr. Montague Mostyn. You see, Mrs. Etheringham, I gave Mr. Mostyn a hint of what was likely to come to Mintos, so he'll be able to advise Mr. Etheringham. I'm afraid it will be a long matter. Mr. Etheringham's not likely to be home before nightfall.” “Then you came to see me.” Norma’s voice faltered slightly. “Will you sit down, inspector? I'm sure you haven't anything very serious to question me on, but Mr. Hughes is here to advise

“Don’t worry, Norma.” Again Cranford interposed. “When I get back to

the city I’ll ring up Richardson and Western and arrange for them to brief me as your counsel. Don't worry, I’ll . . .”

“I should like to see the room Mr. Mintos has been occupying.” Mason spoke officially. He did not want to question Norma when she was in the company of this keen-eyed barrister. “In fact, I should like to take the things he has here. He’ll! want a change or two at Long Bay. Suppose you’ll have no objection to that, Mr. Hughes. ’Course I can . get the usual warrant ...”

“No objections, Inspector.” Cranford smiled slightly. He turned to the girl. “Better keep the servants out of this, Norma. Will you take Inspector Mason and myself to the room Mintos occupied?” Norma led the way to the stairs to Mintos’s room. She opened the door and stood on one side for the men to enter. For a couple of seconds Mason stood just within the door surveying his surroundings with keep eyes. He wanted to be alone in that room for a few minutes, but could not see his way to asking that favour. Norma might agree, hut Cranford Hughes, with his great knowledge of legal matters, would certainly object. His eyes alighted on a suitcase standing close to the window. He went across to it and lifted it to a chair. There were papers in it, mixed with the clothing. He ran through them quickly, then replaced them in the case. He could examine them at leisure in his office. He looked round the rooms. There were a few articles of toilet and clothing about. As he gathered them together and packed them in the case he furtively watched his surroundings. Nowhere could fie see any trace of the missing jewels. He finished packing the case and let the lid fall. The case was of highly-polished leather, very new. The day had been dull and misty, and a slight film of dampness lay over the polished surface. He noticed some fine marks along the edge of the ease and bent to examine them. Clearly they were finger-prints and . remarkably like those Sergeant Anderson had named as made by a boy or woman in the Carew Lane shop. What did those prints mean? Had the Shadow Crook again been able ro enter the Etheringham’s house? Had the master criminal come to this room on hearing that Abel Mintos had been arrested? What had he found? For some moments the inspector j stood looking down on the tell-tale marks on the polished leather. There could be no doubt. The Shadow Crook had been in that room. He must get to Headquarters as quickly as possible and show those marks to Sergeant Anderson. With j but a brief word of farewell to Norma I and the barrister he closed the case carefully and ran down the stairs to the drive. Now he understood why the case did not contain the papers and jewels he had expected to find there. Again the master criminal had anticipated him. CHAPTER XX Inspector Mason made all speed back to the city. He wanted to catch Sergeant Anderson before he left his office for the night. Chance had again given them some of the prints they had lost from the Carew Lane shop. What those fingerprints would tell the inspector could not guess. Had" they been made by the remaining fin-

g;ers of the glove he had found in the shop? How had they come on this suitcase, resting in the guest-room at “Avbnlea”? The only answers to his questions were that the Shadow Crook had again visited the EtheringhSm’s home. But, for what reason? Why ha.d he left those obviously false fin-

gerprints behind him? Surely this master crook, usually so well informed regarding police movements, must know they had learned to distinguish between the prints made by the dead man and those left by the rubber gloves. At the door of Police Headquarters he was lucky to run against Sergeant Anderson leaving the building for the night. A few words of explanation and the expert returned to his room

and arranged the camera. Ten minutes later the negative stood on the frame and the two men bent over it scanning each line and whorl -with high-powered glasses. They were exact with those shown on the record card of Frederick Mayne, slightly reduced.

“We’ve got the prints back again.” Sergeant Anderson looked round at his brother-officer. “What now’ Where’s this going to lead to?” “You have the finger of the glove?” asked Mason. “Although this print is not from that finger, you should be able to tell if it came from the same hand.” “I may be able to tell more than that.” The expert was thinking deeply. He picked up the suitcase

and led to the door. “Come down to the laboratory. I may be some time over this.”

He led the way down the stairs to the basement. in the lower corridor he came to a locked door. Opening this he ushered Mason into a wellfitted laboratory. He placed the suitcase on the centre table and for some minutes busied himself with a number of chemicals. At length he returned to the suitcase and arranged it under a powerful microscope. Then, watching through the instrument he treated the impressions with the solution. Mason looked on interestedly. He wanted to ask questions, but the expert was too deeply engrossed in his work to be disturbed. After a time Anderson left the microscope and went to a cupboard on the other side of the room. He returned to the table carrying the torn glove-finger. Fitting this on his finger he pressed it firmly to his forehead for some minutes, then against the edge of a highly-glazed china plate. Again and again he performed the operation until he had on the outer edge of the plate a series of impressions. These he treated with the solution, watching the reaction through the microscope. Presently he straightened himself, a satisfied expression on his good-humoured face. “Thought so. Have a look here. Mason. Notice any difference between the impressions on the suitcase and those on the plate?” The detective took his stand before the microscope while Anderson handled the exhibits. For some considerable time he studied the two sets of impressions. They looked to him exactly the same. He shook his head, negatively. “No?” Anderson laughed slightly. “Perhaps not. Took me some time before I could gather the signs together and I knew what I was looking for. Still, they’re plain enough.” “What’s the joke?” Mason questioned seriously. “No joke, man. Damned hard facts and perhaps the solution of part of your problem. If you look at the impressions on the edge of the plate you will see very minute rubber crystals, reflecting points of light. Now, from the marks on the suitcase no rubber crystals reflect. Do you understand now?” “You mean . . .”

“I mean just what I have said. I suppose you know that the fingerprints from the human hand are made plain by an acid given off by the skin. That acid is ejected by the skin more freely in warm weather, or when the owner of the fingers is under stress of emotions. Now, you know- the human skin does not give off rubber crystals, therefore, when I discover rubber crystals over the fingerprints I must look for a cause. An etching of the lines and whirls of the human finger on a rubber glove will provide just what I want. I have

the rubber glove, with the etching cut it, here. I have a suitcase with exactly the same impressions, but they do not show rubber crystals. Therefore the impression is only due to human flesh—the stearic acid c>uded by the skin providing the *ink' necessary to make the impressions ” “Devoid of your expert talk, you mean to say the marks on the plate are made by a rubber stamp, white those on the suitcase came from a living hand,” suggested the detective. “But, you said . . .” “You mean the relativeness of various imprints,” Anderson interrupted. “I stated that in spite of the assertions of the experts who stabilised the finger-print science, that no two persons have identical finger-prints, that such a possibility was not without the bounds of probability. Here, in this room, we have the so-call ",d ‘impossible’ proved possible. Yesterday I made a careful comparison of the finger-prints of Frederick Mayne and those of the rubber glove finger. I found them identical. Now you have brought me a suitcase with fingers identical with the rubber glove finger. The inference is obvious. There are, or have been, in New South Wales, two persons with identical finger-prints—one of them the dead man in the morgue.” “Two persons with identical fingerprints.” Mason mused for a moment. “Say, Anderson, if this goes to court you’ll have to be darned sure of your ground. Your statement just now would raise a laugh against you.” “Go to Hell!” the expert laughed confidently. “Just because I’ve chanced on something the European and American scientists have missed so far. Well, it’s not the first time they’ve had to learn from good old Aussie.” “You’re absolutely certain?” Mason asked the question, earnestly. “To you, yes. To the world at. large, not quite. There’s more work to be accomplished before I can prove my statement. To-morrow I enlarge this new fingerprint photograph, and. through a lantern superimpose the three negatives—Frederick Mayne’s. the glove-finger, and the fingerprint from the suitcase—one over the other. That is the final test. If they agree, line for line, then the theory that no two fingerprints are alike goes to the wall.” CTo be Continued)