The HALF-CLOSED DOOR

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 706, 4 July 1929, Page 5

The HALF-CLOSED DOOR

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J.B.Harris-Burland

Author ot •• Tha Black Moon '' Th. Poiion League. " ” Th » White Rook/* &c.. At

HOTTER Xl.—(Continued.) Io okin " as replare<l a tall soodaosr 8 "° man of thirty—one of the com j Derior typo of servants that of Possibly be found or even dreamt Sent T. ' ale answered an advertisetke Mrs. Hibberd had put in '“at j , rnin S Post.” She had excelio a ]„f fereuces ' ar >il she seemed to ? st too good to be true. She *orth ' or wages, but she was F C r ® ore ibau her weight in gold. Uo, ni ,ort "W.t sbe worked from NfttarH t 0 nig bt, and never had Mrs. , eaten such exquisitely cooked "Vv j n M «bam Hill. Sir, r.,1 ar ' '"'bat a treasure,” said ! *rhi, v aon one night when she and band and ch arles Blindon were w “a or telet Road. “Why, to a . Charles were not in love with believe that he'd be tempted '"•tant*. jj r °Ps of "N'AZOL” assures fc (io«.. r . l et from coughs and colds. a “ s for lg s d . * 14

to marry you for the sake of your cook/ 8 . . . Charles Blindon laughed and raised a glass of port to his lips. “Here’s to our treasure,” he said, “and may she be long with us.” . The guests departed early; and Susie Croad went into the kitchen to help Alice to wash up the plates and dishes. It was then a quarter past ten, and there was no prospect of getting to bed before eleven. “This’ll soon be over, ma am, saia Alice. “I mean you doing this sort of thing.” , ... “I hope so,” Susie replied with a laugh “But I’m not going to lose you, Alice. You're coming to our new house, and you'll have a kitchenmaid under you.” “Money does make a difference. ! ma’am, doesn’t it? | The work was finished at ten mini utes to eleven and Alice went upstairs j to bed Susie Croad returned to the drawing-room, lit a cigarette, and lay

down on the sofa. It was a very hot night, and the windows were wide open. There was not a breath of wind and the sky was overcast. The world was very quiet, for Portelet Road was far from tram-lines and omnibus routes. Two moths fluttered white against the darkness, and Susie Croad kept her eyes on them. They were the only things that stirred the stillness. They parted and circled to and fro between the window and the electric light. They could not burn themselves to death. Modern progress had seen to that, thought Susie Croad, but modern progress had made the lives of human thieves more dangerous and liable to disaster. She knew that she herself was in danger, and she could not calculate the strength of the force that was against her. In the old days criminals had known pretty well what they were up against. But now there were different methods, a sort of open good-fellowship between the police and the criminal. Sooner or later Jim and Sam and Peter would fall into some trap that would be laid for them. A chance remark over a glass of beer and a pipe, a chance jest, a glance too full of meaning—and the trap would close on them. They would not give her away, but she would be left alone. Her thoughts turned, as they so often did in these days, to Richard Pelling, happily married and free from his old associates. She envied him, and her envy was very near to hatred. It was midnight when she turned out the light and went upstairs to her bedroom. But she did not go to bed. She seated herself at a writing table,

and wrote a tetter to her husband, telling him that he must send her some more money, or she would have to come over to Paris. There was nothing in the letter that would have betrayed her secret if it had fallen into the hands of the police. She began with “Dear Sir” and ended with “Yours faithfully.” She sealed up the envelope and then she unlocked a drawer which contained some documents of importance. Among them there was a letter from j Richard Pelling. It was a letter that j would only have been written to a woman in whom the writer had per- j feet confidence. She had kept it as j a weapon of defence in case she should ! one day be forced to fight for her own j hand. It merely proved that Pelling ; had taken part in the Bextable affair. ; It was that particular letter that j she wished to read again—in case she j might be forced to make use of it. She thrust her hand to the very j back of the drawer and drew out an 1 old handkerchief box where she kept ; the documents.

The box was full of papers, but the letter was not among them. Susan Croad’s life had been full of surprises, as the life of such a woman is bound to be. But this was the most astonishing thing that had ever happened. No one but herself knew of the existence of this letter. She had never threatened to make use of it. She had intended tg make use of j it when she was driven into a corner j and forced to act in self-defence. She ! was as loyal as she believed Richard i Pelling to be loyal. And though the j letter was an effective weapon, it was j

two-edged. She could not make use of it without injuring herself. And now someone had stolen it. < And the worst of it v/as that quite six months had elapsed since she had i even troubled to look at the contents of the envelope. The drawer was al- : ways kept locked, and she had hidden the key away in a small vase on the mantelpiece. Jane had been an excellent servant iD many ways, but she never touched a china ornament, “In case, ma-am,” as she had said, “it might come to pieces in my ’and.” “Jane,” said Susan aloud, and the sequence of thought was inevitable. Jane had taken her departure and she had been replaced by a different type of woman altogether. Alice was very fond of dusting, but she had been told never to touch the two “valuable vases” on the bedroom mantelpiece. Susan Croad lit another cigarette. Then she closed and locked the drawer, and replaced the key in the vase. It had been wrapped up in a piece of old newspaper, and in the other vase there was a similar piece of newspaper. It was made to seem as though someone had stuffed the paper into the vases in order to reduce the risk of breakage. Susan’s mind, moving quickly, had at once fastened on Alice as the thief. There had been something suspiciously superior about Alice from the start. A detective no doubt. But it was hardly likely that the woman was in the employ of the police. It was almost certain that Richard Pelling had given her this job. No doubt the woman had been looking for something else. But she had found a letter of interest to her employer.

Well, cunning would have to be met by cunning and not by force. It was quite likely that Alice Vale still had the letter in her possession. And in that case it could be recovered. Susan Croad went to bed and slept soundly. The nest day Alice was to have her afternoon and evening out. Susan Croad had no difficulty in find- j ing the letter. A servant’s box is a j poor affair in the hands of a woman | who has learnt to break open a steel i safe. The letter had not been de- j stroyed. Susan went into the garden soon after it was dark and buried the box in a place where she could easily find it again. There was no need to say anything to Alice Vale about the matter. But Alice Vale would have to be dismissed on some pretext or other. And some day perhaps it would be possible to punish Alice Vale. The opportunity for dismissal occurred that same evening. Alice was very late. In fact, she did not enter ; the house until quarter to eleven. It was almost as though Alice Vale wished to be dismissed. “I can’t have this, Alice,” said Susan, choosing the kitchen as a battle ground. “I dismissed my last ser- j vant for coming in late. Where have ; you been?” Alice was not apologetic. She was rude, and she had never been rude before during the fortnight she had spent at 12 Portelet Road. (To be continued daily.)