In The Flashlight

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 622, 26 March 1929, Page 5

In The Flashlight

By

Bernard Rowthorne

Author of “The Jewels of Sin,’’ "The Shadow of the Yamen,’’ Etc., Etc.

CHAPTER XVII (Continued) He realised that he could not enter the wood save in company. With the passing of the sough of wind, the wood had become unutterably still again. His imagination began to conjure up strange things, to make suggestions that shook him still further, and it seemed to him that the stillness was but the cloak of some horrific menace. Suddenly he reached the limit of endurance. He could stand no more, and overwhelmed by sudden panic, he took to his heels, a#d ran from the wood toward the open park. He ran but a little way before his will asserted itself again, and took control, overcoming the unreasoning panic that had sent him in headlong flight. But he felt that he could not return to the wood, nor did he try to force himself to do so. Instead, he walked on, considering a new line of action. The constable, and Jordan. the keeper, were taking their prisoner to Melford’s house, where he himself had an appointment. He would go there as if nothing had happened; he would hear their story, see their prisoner, and then return with them to the scene of the crime. He would help them to look round for possible clues, and in doing so would hunt for the camera that he suspected was somewhere close to where the flashlight bad blazed. If he found it, it would be a comparatively easy matter to secure it. and destroying it to destroy s.ny evidence as to the crime that it might otherwise furnish.

“Yes,” he muttered to himself, “that is the game to play.” Then he stopped and stared into the darkness. “But in God’s name, who was that, who ran, and what was he doing in the wood

His mind could furnish no answer to the question, and the only consoling reflection that came to him was that the unknown man had been as badly scared as himself by the encounter. He might prove to be just a poacher, or, as a possible alternative, be might be someone left to keep watch in the wood, who had grown afraid and deserted his post. Thinking these thoughts, he arrived at Mr. Melford’s house, and was at cnee shown into the library, where he found Mel ford himself, with the constable and Jordan and their prisoner. Mr. Melford was obviously in an unhappy position, and he hailed Carbon's advent with relief. “You are in the nick of time. Carston.” “Indeed!” exclaimed Carstou, looking round with inquiring eyes. “Yes. You don’t know this gentleman, perhaps, though you may have beard of him. He is Noel Mayiiew. lately returned from Africa, and here are Jordan and the constable trying

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to persuade me that he has murdered some unknown woman in one of my woods. It must he a mistake. X know Noel, and I am convinced that he is incapable of doing anything of the kind.” “We caught him in the act, or as good as,” said the keeper. “Yes,” commented the constable, "and 1 demand a warrant for his arrest.” “What do you think about it, Carston? You are a magistrate, and i’ll own I am sore perplexed.” Chrston scarcely glanced at the prisoner, who, on the other hand, was subjecting him to an ardent scrutiny of which Carston was acutely aware. “Seems to me to be pretty simple, said the millionaire, after a moment’s thought. “If a woman has been murdered —” , , „ “There’s no doubt about that, snappped the constable. “I ve see h her body, and so has Jordan.” “Then if suspicion points to —er — Mr. Mayhew, there is nothing for it but that he should he detained until the matter is examined more fully. A troubled look came on Mr. Melford’s face as he looked at the prisoner. “I am sorry, Noel,” he said, “but lam afraid I’ve no option. I shall have to make out the warrant, hut if you will give me your word not to attempt to escape, you can remain here until the sergeant shows up and in the meantime I will try and get into telephonic communication with the county chief constable.” “I have not the slightest desire to escape, Mr. Melford,” answered Noel, quietly. “You see. I happen to be quite innocent. I was walking along the road, lost in thought, when I heard a woman cry out in fear, and saw a curious glare in the woods. I hadn t the slightest notion what was happening, and was horrified when I found the woman dead.” “Well you had better keep your storv. Noel, till you’ve seen your lawver I don’t believe you did this thing, and I’ll take the responsibility for YOU until we hear from the chief. He turned to the policeman. ’iou will have things to attend to. con stable. I suppose you'll have to get that poor woman’s body out of the wood, and you’ll have to find things out about her.” . “Yes. sir! But there are things known already. Jordan here says that she’s a woman who has been at the Mayhew Arms, and that her name was Mrs. Noel Mayhew " Mr. Melford gave an exclamation of surprise, and looked quickly at the prisoner. “That is so,” answered Noel quietly. “I met her this afternoon and took her up to the Court to make sure of certain things. To the best of my belief T had never seen her in mj life before: but she had seen me once in Africa when 1 was lying ill. and had discovered then that I was not the man who had married her. though he bore and used my name.”

“Then what was she doing here?” asked Mr. Melford quickly. “She was looking for her husband, and between her visit to the Court this afternoon and dinner time, she found him.” “Found him? Are you sure! That is important.” No one was looking at Carston, as this statement was made, and so the fear which shone in his eyes passed unnoticed; but the fear grew more manifest as Noel replied: “I was to have met her this evening ” “You w’ere to have met her?” Mr.

Melford’s suspicion was plain to everyone. “Yes. 1 meant to bring her here in order to convince Margaret that I was not the dead woman’s husband; but when I was waiting for her I received a note from her. saying that she had seen her husband and could not keep her appointment with me.” “You have the note?” asked Mr. Melford.

“Yes. I think so.” He began to search iu bis pockets, aud after a moment a worried look came ou his face, which deepened as tho search proceeded without result. At last he spoke. “I am afraid I have lost it,” he said, and then, as he saw the effect of his words on the listeners, added: “But it was brought by hand from the Mayhew Arms, and it will he easy to prove the note was dispatched.” “But that will not show that the contents were what you say they were.” The speaker was Carston, and his tone was utterly hostile. “That is so,” said Mr. Melford, and

| it was clear from his tones, that he I was wavering in his belief in the ■ young mans’ innocence. I “After that statement I shall take ; no responsibility in letting this gentle--1 man go out of the constable's sight, ! Mr. Melford. You can do what you ; like, but the best course is to ; leave the man here in charge of j the constable, while the keeper goes | back to the dead woman. lam will- , ing to go with him. and if we take a ; car there will be no difficulty iu con ; veying the body to the village. That ' seems to' me the safest way.” | Mr. Melford’s face showed that he also was convinced of the. wisdom of

the suggested course. “Yes,” he answered, “that seems the wisest thing to do.” “Then we’ll settle it that way! I’ll go with the keeper, while you stop here along with your prisoner, constable. Come along.” And without further parley, Carston turned and led the way from the room, an exultant look upon his face as he realised that the opportunity he sought was now to bo his.

CHAPTER XVIII. It was an hour and a-half later aud Mr. Melford was walking to and fro in the hall, awaiting the arrival of the County Constable, while the constable watched his prisoner in the library. The purr of an automobile sounded in the darkness, and he hurried to the door, just as the car stopped. But it was his daughter and not the Chief Constable whom the ear brought, and as he saw her, Mr. Melford suddenly realised that he was confronted by a rather difficult task of explanation. The moment Margaret’s eyes alighted on him she knew that something had happened to disturb him profoundly and immediately asked a question: “What is the matter, father? Something has happened while I have been away ?”

“Y r es,” he answered slowly, “a good deal has happened. Come into the dining room and I will tell you.” Margaret hurried forward. “What is it?” she asked, taking his arm. “It is serious I can tell from your manner.” “Yes,” he answered, “it is very serious; and I think you must prepare yourself for a shock, Margaret.” “A shock!”

“Yes. . . .” Mr. Melford paused, a little uncertain how to proceed. Then he said, “Noel Mayhew is in the library.” “Noel ” A sudden light that Mr. Melford did not understand leaped in Margaret’s eyes, and made him hurry on.

“Y'es! He is in charge of the village constable, and is accused of a very grave crime.” “Crime?” The girl’s face went white as chalk as she echoed the word, and her father began to wish that he had not been quite so precipi- j tate. “Yes, crime, the very gravest crime in the calendar. Ido not know how to tell you, but you must know of it sooner or later.” 4 4 Wha t —w h a t ’ ’ “He is accused of murdering his j wife. I am waiting for M&nniiigton, j the Chief Constable now. and ” “Who accuses him?” asked the girl, i in a shaking voice. “The village constable and our keeper. They heard the woman cry out before she died, aiid they found him kneeling by her side. His story is that he also heard a woman cry out in fear, that he saw a bright light in the wood, aud ran to the place, only to find the woman lying there dead. He admits, however, that he had seen the woman before and that he took her up to the court to make sure of certain things. Also he says that he was bringing the woman here tonight to see you ” ■‘To see me! Why?” “In order to convince you that he was not married to the woman.” “Ah!” The odd light that Mr. Melford had observed in his daughter’s eyes showed a second time, and a curious doubting look came on her face. “But he did not bring her?” “No! His story is that the woman failed to keep her appointment with him: and that she sent a note instead.

saying that she had found her husband ——" “Found him! Here?” “So it would seem, if Noel Mayhew’s story is true, hut unfortunately there is a'doubt about it. You see he had lost the note; and while it will be easy to prove whether a note was received by him, as John Carston pointed out, the question as to the contents of the note will remain unsolved. “What has John Carston to do with this?” The girl’s tone was harsh, almost hostile, and an uneasy look • came on her father’s face. “He happened to drop in just after Noel was brought here. He is a magistrate like myself and naturally, I consulted with him. He regards Noel’s i story as a very unlikely one ” j “But it might just happen to be itrue!” said the qirl quickly. | “It might! But it is a very in- : credible story; and a jury would be I hard to convince of its truth.” ! “But it’s very incredibility is in its ■ t favour. It is for that very reason | more likely to be true, than false, for I if he were guilty and if he were trying to hide the fact, he would at least have invented a plausible story." Mr. Melford was a little puzzled by j his daughter’s attitude. Since the day j when the news of Noel Mayhew’s mar- | riage in Africa had reached her, Mar--5 garet had refused to have his name j mentioned in her presence, and now,

as it seemed to him, she was fighting j for him; and refusing to believe evil \ of him. “There is something in what you say, Margaret,” he began, “but ” “There may be a very great deal,” interrupted the girl, and then a look of sudden anguish came on her face. “Oh!” she whispered, “suppose that story of his marriage was a lie? Suppose we have all been mistaken in thinking that he —that he— Y’ou say he was going to bring that woman here to prove to me ” “Yes!” “Where is he? In the library did you say?” “Margaret, what are you going to 1 do?” asked her father, hurriedly. “I am going to see him; to speak to him. to ask him something that I ought to have asked before.” Mr. Melford was greatly disturbed i by what he saw in his daughter's face, and with the thought of her coming | marriage in mind and all that depended upon it, thought it was wise to exercise his authority. “I am afraid you cannot do that, Margaret! You see Noel is a prisoner in charge of—” ' “But I will see him,” cried the girl, moving swiftly toward the library door. “No one shall prevent me. If j I have done him an injustice 1 will ! know—and may God forgive me.” ; She threw the door open and en- ; tered the room, while her father fol- ; lowed helplessly, not knowing how to I deal with the situation that had so i unexpectedly arisen. Noel Mayhew i was seated in a chair, a rather j dejected look on his fever-worn face, while the constable a little way off I watched him as a dog watches his | boDe. As she entered, the young man \ rose quickly to his feet, a light of exj pectation in his eyes.

“Margaret . . .” he stammered, “Margaret!” “Noel.” she began, without preliminary. “You saw .that woman this afternoon, after you saw- me.” “Y'es!” he answered simply. “I sent her to you! She —was your —your wife?” “Before God —no! Neither she nor any other woman. Believe me Margaret.” His eyes met hers unwaveringly in frank appeal, and as she met their steady gaze with her own searching stare, she read the truth in them. “I do believe you, Noel,” she cried in anguished conviction. “I am ashamed that ever I believed otheri wise. I can never hope for your for- ! giveness, but ” “Margaret!” “One thing more! You have noj seen that woman since?” j “No, not till I found her dead.” | “Thank God! Oh, thank God!” Then in the stress of her emotion j she collapsed, and as Mr. Melford ran ! forward and caught her in his arms, she fainted utterly, while me constable looked from her to his prisoner with amazed eyes. (To be continued daily.*