THE LOCKED ROOM

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 678, 1 June 1929, Page 6 (Supplement)

THE LOCKED ROOM

SERIAL STORY ||

By E.

Clepham Palmer.

COPYRIGHT

I SYNOPSIS OP PREVIOUS CHAPTERS Chapters I to lll.—Arthur Felscombe and James Widhurst discuss the flatness of life after the excitement of the war period. Both are bored. Felscombe is in the position of a young man so. handsome that every woman who looks at' him falls in love with him. Widhurst twits his friend with posing-. Felscombe wants to meet a girl who will treat him with contempt. Widhurst conceives a plan and lays it before Miss Daisy Ashton, a friend of long standing, with whom he is somewhat in love. Daisy promises to spurn Felscombe with pleasure. The latter receives a visit from his friend, Sinclair, and while chatting there is a loud knock; at the door. "Come In,” shouts Felscombe. Chapter 111.- (Continued).—Felscombe's visitor inquires his whereabouts and withdraws. Sinclair and Felscombe dine out. Afterwards Felscombe boards a bus, alighting beyond Kensington, and walking up a quiet street. As he is passing a forbidding-looking house surrounded with dark trees, he hears a cry for help in a woman’s voice. He climbs a Scotch fir, and crawls along one of the branches, which brushes near an open window. He swings himself into the room, landing on a thick rug. Being in darkness, he strikes a match and the young girl in the bed wakes and screams for help. As she is calling "Help Burglars!” a man bursts into the room and clashes toward the bed. "What is it, Olive?” The gild tells him there is a man in the room, and asks him to switch on the light. Tuddenham orders Felscombe not to move or he will blow bis brains out. The girl says she is not afraid now and suggests that the stranger shall use the switch. When the light floods the room Felscombe apologises for his presence. While Tuddenham is telephoning for the police the girl begs Felscombe to make his escape while he can, but he decides to await his arrest.

CHAPTER IV (Continued) “Wait a moment. I was there because when passing the bouse I heard a cry for help, which I could swear came from her room. When I got Into it I found nothing except a girl asleep in bed. Unluckily she woke up and then started screaming. Her uncle appeared, and I was arrested and spent the night at the police station. This morning I was charged with burglariously entering enclosed premises with intent to commit a felony. I was remanded for three days on bail. That’s the whole story.” “Ridiculous!” said Widhurst. “Most Interesting,” said Miss Ashton. “Where was this house?” “Slater Road, just beyond Kensington. I was taking a stroll, having got a bit irritated by the West End. It was really a delightful experience, hut I’m rather afraid it will fizzle out. Even the police didn’t seem to think they could get up much of a case against me, and I’m afraid the chances are that I shall be discharged without a stain on my character. It’s a pity, because I’ve often wanted to spend a few weeks in prison. “But on the other hand,” went on Felscombe, with unusual eagerness.

“I’m inclined to think that the house in which I was arrested may provide us with something of interest. I’ve never seen a more sinister-looking place, and the people seemed distinctly promising. A beautiful girl who denies having screamed for help, an uncle who is frequently angry with her, an invalid wife who keeps to her own room and never—so a genial police-sergeant told me—sees her own niece, a cook who is obviously what one calls a ‘lady,’ a revolver in possession of the uncle—it seems for me that we have there all the material for an engaging romance.” “All that’s missing,” said Miss Ashton, "is a lover for the beautiful girl.” “Exactly! I felt at the time that the police were making a blunder in arresting me.” “I understood,” protested Widhurst, "that you were in the house as the would-be rescuer of a lady in distress. This is the first we’ve heard of any sentimental entanglement.” “There isn’t any. I was merely

agreeing with Miss Ashton that the situation wasn’t complete.” “Perhaps,” said Miss Ashton, “it will end in an engagement. I’ve never yet heard of a burglar marrying the daughter of the house in which he’s discovered, hut it’s the sort of thing‘that ought to have happened years ago. Was she very beautiful, Mr. Felscombe?”

“Very.” It was really her extraordinary beauty that led to my dis9oVery. The room was in darkness when I climbed in, and I struck a match to see what was happening. The glimpse I had of the girl peacefully sleeping was so attractive that I struck another. That, it turned out, was a mistake. Apparently, I ought to have cleared out at once. As it was the striking of the second match put the fat in the fire. The girl screamed —and you know' the rest.”

“It seems to me,” said Widhurst, “that you’ve got yourself into a pretty mess.” “Not at all,” said Miss Ashton. “I agree with Mr. Felscombe that there are romantic possibilities. One match seems to have started the affair. Perhaps another will end it. I wonder where you’ll meet this extraordinarily beautiful girl next?” “In the police ccrnct,” said Felscombe. “That hardly seems so romantic *a setting at your first meeting-place

“The whole thing,” protested Widhurst, “is one colossal pose. The plain fact is that he’s on bail charged with burglariously entering enclosed premises with intent to commit a felony. It seems to me, old man, that your misguided desire for romantic adventure will land you in prison within a very few days. . .

CHAPTER V.—THE MYSTERIOUS PATIENT.

Olive Western sat in a deck chair on the lawn of "The Cedars.” She looked singularly out of place. Clearly she was entitled to a background of flowers, but on this sunny spring morning she was the only bright and beautiful thing in the setting of weeds. Even the sun failed to dispel the gloom of the neglected garden. The paths, bordered with evergreen shrubs were damp and green with moss. The dead leaves of the autumn still lay where they had fallen. The dark cedar threw a sinister shade on the lawn. There was nothing to relieve the dismal character of the old garden except the scarlet dress of the girl sitting in a deck chair just out of the reach of the shade. Her singular beauty seemed almost to be threatened by the weeds that had claimed the flower beds, by the moss that had fastened its hold on the path, and by the far-reaching shade thrown by the cedar. It nardly seemed possible that anything beautiful could survive in such a garden. How could the girl sitting in a patch of sunlight on the lawn resist the influences that had made the weeds and the shadows victorious. She was so interested in the hook she svas reading that she failed to notice the approach of her uncle and was surprised when he said abruptly: “Why stay out here? It’s chilly. There’s a fire in the breakfast room.”

Olive looked up quickly. “Don’t you think we might cut down some of these trees? The garden wouldn’t be so chilly then. I hate that old cedar and those firs. This is the only bit of sun .in the whole garden, .and I have to keep moving my chair. I wish you’d have some trees cut down.” “The cedar is 200 years old. It’s a fine tree. You’re always bothering about the garden." "But doesn’t it seem to you a little dark and gloomy? A few flowers——” “Y'ou know what I feel about flowers.”

“Yes; but I’m afraid I don’t quite understand. I wish you’d tell me why you won’t have any flowers in the garden.” He hesitated a moment. “It’s quite simple. I don’t want to see any flowers till your aunt can see them. When she’s better and can go out again we’ll have the brightest garden in the road.”

Olive looked up eagerly.. “You mean that there can’t be any flowers —that they can’t really exist for us—till she can see them?”

“Yes; that’s what I’ve always felt since her illness. This used to be a bright enough garden.” Olive stood up quickly and took her uncle’s arm while they wandered about the lawn. “I’m sorry I didn’t know you felt like that. I think it’s a pretty idea. How can there he any flowers while she’s so 111? I think you're quite right, and I shan’t ever bother you about the garden again,” She hesitated. “But there’s one other thing. Couldn’t I possibly see her? I know that excitement is bad, but I’d he very quiet, and I wouldn’t stay more than a few minutes. It’s so long since I saw her.” “I’m sorry, hut it’s quite impossible.” “But, surely there’s something I could do. I could read or play her accompaniments. I’m sure I couldn’t do any harm if she’s strong enough to sing. The other evening I heard her sing that old duet with you just as she used to.” A new expression of irritation passed over Horace Tuddenham’s face. “Yes, yes, I know. Singing is the only pleasure she has. But she’s very ill, and there are reasons —very special reasons—for keeping her absolutely quiet. It is essential at present that she should see no one.” “When shall I be able to see her?” “I can’t say. Everything depends on the course the illness takes in the next few months.” “Does she ever ask for me?” “Oh, yes—and she looks forward to seeing you when she’s better, but there are very special reasons, as I said, tll(it make it impossible for her to see anyone now.” Olive looked puzzled. “Very special reasons? Is that all you can say? Must there really he this mystery?” “I’m afraid so. The nature of *he ill-~<-s. . . .” “Yes, I see. ! I must be patient.” Olive was about to leave her uncle when he said abruptly: “There’s something I want to say to you. That affair last night. You remember that once before I found a young ma.n in the house in almost exactly the same circumstances. Unluckily for me he escaped. But what I want to ask you is whether you can give me any explanation?” Olive looked up nervously. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.” “r.at me make it clearer. There must

be something to account for these midnight visits. I don’t wish to suggest that you are in any way responsible, or that these young men come at your invitation, but this is the second time it’s happened, and there must be some explanation. A man doesn’t climb into a girl's bedroom in the early hours -of the morning for nothing ...” “You heard what he said about a cry for help.’ “Y'es. I know, but that’s all nonsense. There was nothing of the kind.” “He must have heard something. I don’t believe he’d have climbed up the tree for fun. It’s not an easy tree to climb.” She hesitated, and then added quickly: "I wish we could leave this house. I believe it must be haunted. I’m sure there’s something mysterious about, it, and it’s so old and creaky and big. I like my room, but it’s so far from anyone else. Couldn’t we move into a smaller house, a new one, where there couldn’t possibly be any ghosts, and with a nice little garden without any big trees or dark corners?” She looked up anxiously. “No, I'm afraid we shall never be able to leave this house. At least, I doubt if I shall ever leave it. But you —you are young—you may marry.”

“No, I don’t think I shall ever marry.”

“Why not? You could have your own house then, warranted free from ghosts, and you could cut down every tree and bush in the garden. What about Sinclair ” “I hate him,” she protested. “He said he fell in Love with me at once—just because I happen to be pretty. I hate him for only wanting to marry my golden hair and my blue eyes, and so on. Love at first sight isn’t worth having. I hate men like that. They don’t want to talk. They only want to stare. 1 shall never marry—unless I meet someone who doesn’t look at me at all.”

“I’m sorry ta say,” announced Felscombe, as he threw down his hat and sank into a chair iii his fiat, “that I’ve been discharged without a stain on my character. Even Tuddenham was quiet pleasant about it. He seemed sorry that he’s had me arrested.”

“Did he ask you to call?” said Widhurst. “Did he suggest that the next time you should go in by the front door instead of the bedroom window?” “No, but he seemed to me to do all he could to get my story accepted. He went out of his way to say that he believed I’d been honestly mistaken in thinking I’d heard a cry for help. But I don't like the look of the man, and I believe there’s something fishy about his house. He seemed to be anxious to avoid any further inquiries.” CTO be Continued on Monday)