The HALF-CLOSED DOOR

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 709, 8 July 1929, Page 5

The HALF-CLOSED DOOR

By

J.B Harris-Burland

Author ot •• The Block Moon. 1- " Tho Pouon League." - The Whit* Rook," Ac.. Ac

CHAPTER XIII. “Yes, sir—if the victim lets ’em go too far. It was in the Mailing affair. We got the scoundrels all right, but Mailing was ruined. He’d let it go too far. sir. He’d paid money for years, and he only turned round when he was driven to despair. The thing is to grasp the nettle firmly, sir, and then it doesn't get a chance to sting you. Never give an inch to a blackmailer, even if you’re guilty. They won’t give you away. They’ll go on hoping and hoping that you’ll give in. If you don’t prosecute, lead them to think you’ll break down some day. But don’t give a penny to them — that’s my advice, sir.” Pelling laughed, and turned the conversation to some other form of crime. Half an hour later Sanderson took his departure. Pelling filled his Pipe and lie it, and stared at the ashes in the grate.

“Lead them on,” he said to himself; “let them think you’re the sort that’s bound to give in; but don’t give to an inch.” It was excellent advice, and it came from the lips of a man who knew his business. Susan Croad, having once and for all made up her mind that she would ruin Richard Pelling, had no intention of allowing any difficulties to stand in her way. She was in that frame of mind in which a woman could easily persuade herself of the justice of her cause. Pelling no longer trusted her, and he had not Played the game. The members of tbe gang had got it into their heads that Pelling had forestalled them in tue theft of the diamonds, and that bad done so, knowing that they going to break open the safe, rj first she had laughed at the idea. Put now she forced herself to believe Juat it was the truth. He had the diamonds, and he should give them ??* aQ d even that should not save Uf 01 * She was sorely in need of ®oney, bat revenge was sweet to her. aue would rather give up her share of the spoil than let Richard Pelling scot-free. She intended to overcome all the obstacles that lay between her and *ue accomplishment of the task she ad set herself to perform, but she •pi? 0 * UQ derrate them. Ver y hot afternoon in August '"■the same afternoon on which Mary e ht to see her mother —Susan Croad ; ay . °“ the sofa in the drawing room, *-ud smoked a cigarette while she re*ewed her position, and estimated length of the forces at her dissal, and realised the weak spots in aep armour. la the first place, it was absolutely tH?i essary that Richard Pelling should regard her as a friend. If he - er suspected that she was an enemy so little did she know' of Richard eumg—it was certain that he would e able to fight her with her own ea Pon. She was prepared to ruin

i her own life in or„der to punish him, hut she did not wish to suffer unless it was absolutely necessary. She would have to be his friend, and openly oppose the others, while secretly upholding their decisions. It would be a difficult and a dangerous position, and it would be complicated by the vigilance of the police, who were watching the three men. She could not meet any of them openly, and if it were once known that she was in touch with any one of them, she would have to fight for her life. Then, again, her interests were opposed to the interests of the three men on one important point. They wanted the diamonds, and she wanted revenge. Their desires would clash when it came to a final decision on Richard Felling’s fate, She would have her own way in the end, but she might be forced to show her hand —to tell the others, not perhaps in so many words, but by her conduct, that she had a secret motive for involving Richard Felling in ruin. That motive might arouse opposition from Jimmie, for instance, himself in love with her. And then there was her husband—always in the background, but a force of tremendous importance. Then, again, she had her own little difficulty with Charles Blindon. It would not do to break off that engagement just yet. Charles Blindon would have to be played very carefully, like a large fish that could break the line at any moment with a whisk of the tail She did not want to lose Charles Blindon. He could give her wealth, and that was all that was left in the world for her. Her husband could not live for very long. But he might live long enough to make her marriage to Charles Blindon impossible. Amd the marriage with Charles Blindon suggested yet another thought. The diamonds had belonged to Blindon and Co., but now that they were stolen they were, so to speak, the property of the company that had insured them. It was not a private matter that could be hushed up by anv exertions of her own. The insurance company would fight hard to find the criminals. They had already offered a reward of £5,000. And then there was Trillick. The doctors said that Trillick would never recover his memory. But doctors so often made mistakes. If Trillick did remember, the gang would be blown skv-hish. It would be a question of “sauve qui peut," and in the general confusion no one would bother about Richard Pelling. That was the position, as far as Susan Croad could see it. And it would be a tremendous personal triumph if she came out of the battle with flying colours. She wanted so the ruin of Richard Pellm*,, mUCh -7‘ wRh Charles Blindon, a Mein “ut from the rest of the gang But she knew what she wanted most

of all, to separate Richard Pelling from his wife. And that, so it seemed to her as she lay on the sofa, would be the easiest of all her tasks. The girl’s mind must be poisoned. There would have to be a long drawn out tragedy of domestic life before the police were put on the track of Richard Pelling. It would be ridiculously simple—an anonymous letter to Pelling’s wife. Her thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of an elderly charwoman—the only available servant since the departure of Alice. She was an ill-tempered, useless old creature, but she was above suspicion, for she had been recommended to Susan by the wife of the Vicar. “A gentleman to see you, ma’am,” she said. “A furriner —I don’t understand ’is lingo—there’s ’is card.” She held out the card between her dirty finger and thumb, and Susan took it from her. It bore the name of “M. Avator,” and the address of a street in Paris. For a moment Susan’s eyes narrowed to two slits, and then she smiled. "Please show him in,” she said, “and we will have tea for two.” The old woman left the room, and Susan glanced at herself in the glass. Heavy footsteps came slowly toward the door —the footsteps of a man who limped. The door swung open and the entrance was filled by the huge body of Susan’s husband. The charwoman may have been somewhere behind him, but she was not visible. The man was over six foot in height, but the enormous breadth of his shoulders made him seem short and clumsily built. His long reddish brown beard was flecked with grey. His eyes were small and cold and cruel. His face was huge, even for the size of his body. His left hand gripped a thick ebony walking-stick with a carved ivory handle. He held out his right hand, and laughed. “Good day,” he said in French. "Good day, my dear friend.” Susan held out both h*r hands and gripped his great fingers. “It is good to see you,” she cried, “after so many years. Come in, M. Avator, and we will talk of old times.” He came forward and closed the door behind him. He flung his great weight on the sofa and panted for breath. “Don’t speak English,” said Susan in a low voice. “That old cat may be listening.” Arthur Croad made no reply. He looked at his wife for nearly half a minute without speaking. Then he said in French “Come here.’’ She came closer to him. Her back was to the light, but she felt his keen eyes boring into her brain like gimlets. “So you have failed, eh?” he continued. “You’ve made a fool of us all?” "I did all I could.” “Yes —to get a husband. And now you want money.” “Yes, Arthur. I want money. I’ve come to the end of all you gave me.” "Well, you know where to get money. You have a rich friend. If you can’t get it out of him in one way you can get it in another. He is very much in love with you, eh?” "Oh yes,” laughed Susan, “very much in love.” Arthur Croad grunted. “So was I—once,” he said. “Veil

he can have you. I shan’t interfere, I’m dead.”

He paused and drew his great fingers through his beard. “I’m dead,” he repeated. “As good as dead. I’ll come to your wedding and give you away. An old friend eh —M. Avator, the jeweller? Ha ha—what a joke! What a story for the newspapers! And you shall have a ring from my shop—such a ring, too.” “You are talking nonsense, Arthur,” said Susan impatiently. “Surely you haven’t left Paris to come and talk nonsense.” “No, I’ve come to have a look round, and to see you, one of the world’s most beautiful women. And then I must see this marriage.” “Arthur, you don’t really think that I intend to marry Charles Blindon while you are alive?” “Why not? I am dead. And what is there that you would not do? You would kill me if you had the chance of escaping the gallows. So why should you not marry this fat pig and be happy?” Susan laughed. “I’m not such a fool,” she answered. “I can wait.” The brutal words made no impression on Arthur Croad. They seemed to amuse him. His huge body shook with laughter. “You’d better make sure of him,”

he said after a pause. “Well, where are the diamonds?”

“The Boy has got them. He was too smart for us.” ’Tell me all about it, my little oue. I am in the dark.” Susan told her story, and it seemed to her that she told it very skilfully. But she realised that she was under close observation all the time she was speaking. She was very careful not to betx-ay herself. “Ah that young man!” said Croad, when she had finished her narrative. “Well, it may be as you say. But I think not.” The servant entered with the tea, and there was an interval in which Susan and her husband jabbered in a language the old woman did not understand. When they were alone again Croad said, “I will have a whisky and soda. I do not drink this tea of yours.” Susan left the room to get a whisky and soda, and Croad lit a cigarette. His great face was wrinkled with smiles. He was an ugly man, but never so ugly as when he laughed His wife returned with a bottle of whisky, a glass and a syphon of soda. He helped himself, filling the tumbler half full of spirit. He drank greedily and some of the liquid ran down his beard. Susan shrugged her shoulders in disgust, and poured herself out some tea. “How much money can you give me?” she asked. “Nothing, my little one. It is you v!io have to find money for me. Ah, business is very bad in these days.” “I have bills to pay,” she continued. “I owe about two hundred pounds, I have always paid my bills. That has been part of the scheme—that I should be perfectly honest and respectable.” “I cannot give you money.” “Then I return to Paris with you. I will sell the contents of this house to pay my bills.” Croad shook his head. “You will stay here,” he said, roughly, “and you will get money out of Charles Blindon. You will try and find those diamonds. Some of them may come my way, and then I shall know where to look for the rest. I think it would be better for you to marry your dear Charles.” “Y'ou brute!” said Susan, in a cold, hard voice. “What do you think I am?” “I know what you are, my dear Susie. Oh, wouldn’t you like to kill me? But you must wait. X will give you three months. By that time you must either have found the diamonds or have married Charles Blindon. In any case I must have twenty thousand pounds.” “You are mad, or drunk. Supposing I refuse you cannot hurt me without hurting yourself.” He laughed. “I have so very little time to live,” he replied. “And you are young, with the best part of your life before you. Which of us two would suffer the most by the police getting hold of us.” She was white to the lips with fury, but she controlled herself With a firm hand. “Money cannot be of very much use to you now,” she said. “There is so little time for you to spend it.” Croad laughed uproariously. “I have friends,” he said—“friends that I should not like to suffer by my death.” Then he took a note book and pencil from his pocket. “I want their addresses,” he said—- “ Peter and Sam and Jimmie—l should

like to talk over old times with them.” “You’d better not/* she replied. “They are being watched by the police/* “Their addresses?” he said curtly. She gave him the information and he wrote it down in his little book. “That young chap you call The Boy?’* he queried. She hesitated for a moment and then she gave Richard Pelling’s address. She was not unwilling that her husband should be added to the list of those wanting to destroy Richard Pelling. “But don’t forget,” she said, “that ! the Boy can hit back at us.” Croad laughed and wrote down the address “There’s going to be no quarrelling,” he said. “That must be avoided —among friends.” He placed the note book in his pocket, filled up his glass, drained it to the last drop, and rose, with difficulty, to his feet. “I must go,” he said. “I have kept the taxi waiting at the door.” “I don’t know why you came,” she replied. “Well, I thought it better to make it quite plain about money matters. I’ve laid out about £3,000 on this little jaunt of yours, and so far I’ve got nothing in return. But I’ve got to have twenty thousand pounds before the end of three months. You must get ; it as best you can. Then I came to | have a look round and see how mati ters stand. And lastly I came to tell you where you will very likely find the diamonds.’’ I “You know where I can find the 'diamonds?” queried Susan Croad.

“Why, just now you were asking me where they were.” Croad laughed. His huge body shook with laughter. “That was my little joke,” tie chuckled. “Besides, I thought that perhaps you did know*. I thought you ; and Charles Blindon had fixed up this little job between you.” “Charles Blindon? Are you mad?” j Again Croad laughed. “Oh, he is clever, that fat pig,” he said. “He arranged everything \ most cleverly. You must not judge j by appearances, my child. The pig is sometimes the wolf.” “You are talking nonsense! You are drunk. Do you know Charles i Blindon has the diamonds?” “I put two and two together, Susie, and that is knowledge. The diamonds were insured, and bow pleasant to have both the diamonds and j the insurance money. Charles Blin-1 don is not rich. His old father sees j to that. And Charles Blindon Is ; extravagant and he gambles on the \ Stock Exchange. I have made a few inquiries.” ; “What do you know —really know?" | “Just that—that ninety thousand | pounds would have been very useful | to Charles Blindon a month ago. I’m * afraid he’s been too sharp for you | But now you can be too sharp for ; him. He’s got the stuff and you I can get it from him.” j “Rot!” said Susan sharply. I “Very well, then it is rot, as you I put it so plainly in your pretty Eng- j | lish. But I’ve got to have twenty ] ! thousand pounds and you’ll find that ; ! you can get it from Charles Blindon. You can bluff him out of it. You can

marry him or not, as you choose, but the money has got to be found. I’ve given you the straight tip. It’s for you to take .it and work on ft/* He picked up his heavy ebony stick and walked toward the door. “But you give me no clue—no weapon,” she cried. “I give you an idea,” he answered “and ideas are worth money.” “And if you’re right, what about the others—Jim and Sam and Peter?” “Oh, they’re out of it. This is our job. You keep it to yourself and get the cash.” (To be continued daily.)

DANCING DANGERS BE CAREFUL! The dancing season is now well unde r 1 way, and enthusiasts are busy with ; their favourite pastime. All dancers j will do well to realise how easy it is * to cateh a chill after coming out from i a warm ballroom and how' dangerous the results may be. The cold air strikes you when you are overheated, and you soon become aware of a tightness in the chest, and a tickling sensation in the throat. As a precaution take a dose of Baxter's Lung Preserver as soon as you get home. It will ward off a cold, and its unique tonic properties will help to build you up. ; Baxter’s Lung Preserver is the best remedy for family use, and It always pays to keep a bottle in the home. Rich, ! red, soothing, and pleasant to take. It >is appreciated by all. Obtainable from | any chemist or store. Generous-size<i bottle 2s Gd, family size 4s and | bachelor's bottle eighteenpcnce.