The Jewels of Sin

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 725, 26 July 1929, Page 5

The Jewels of Sin

By

Bernard Rowthorne.

Author of " The Claws of the Dragon,” &c.. ficc.

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS CHAPTERS l AND ll.—Gerald Mallin*on steps uut of his taxi at Waterloo Station in a dense fog He asks the chauffeur to wait. A girl jumps out of a taxi which had nearly collided with his. Her taxi drives off. She carries A brown-leather despatch case and a silk vanity bag. A man snatches at her Cise and bag. Gerald Mallinson leaps, b.s fist shoots out. He sends the man sprawling, the case and bag falling into the road. The man recovers, and makes off with the bag. while Gerald picks up the case, which feels empty. The girl says the thief has taken the least valuable thing She has come to meet someone by the boat train. Gerald tells -iftr be Is an author, that his hero is x meeting the boat train, and forthwith Plunges into the most exciting adventures. As the boat train comes in the prl moves to the harrier. Eater he sees ber again. Two other faces attract Jj* attention—a well-dressed negro, and bis companion, apparently a Dutchman A tall, handsome voung woman passes tb« ticket collector. She signals to the black man and his companion. The black says: "He comes’” A man wearjng a Stetson hat eome= through, carry*eg»a despatch case Catch iner s'urht of the girl he makes for her When the crowd moves on the girl is no longer there. The black man and Dutchman fellow the man wearing the Stetson The three enter the refreshment room Mallif° n moves eringerlv through the fog to Jp taxi Again the girl bre-ks in upon bim. She is stranded There is no taxi exeunt Malllnson’s. nnd she has to *** to Pagnall Street. P.ermondsev. in record time. The voting man offers to take her. 7ita Parrvmorp stens into bis taxi. She acknowledges that the in the Stetson hat her brother Re and *hc exchanged rpotv’tch cases The taxi draw* un. Venison asks Tompkins what is wrong. T*hey are lo*t. A voice out of the fo~ offers to guide them to Rugnall Street for a consideration. The girl wants No 7. The man v*'ognises it as old Peter Rogers’s house Th*,. rHvo at !n*t. CHAPTERS TTY AND TV.— The *u-anger re-fives his reward and disanpears. 7.ita Barrymore tells Gerald Mallinson she expects to find her brother, *nd goes into the house Mr. Mallinson v *aits in the taxi for her. TTe hears * shrill scream, and lean* to his feet v*,th a word to he chauffeur to remain h* goes to the house While feeling for the gate someone slips by him. He calls A, it. "Miss "Barrymore!” Phe disappears m the fog. TTe enters the house, and

f passes to a room behind, on the left. It is a dining-room. Food is on the table. Retracing his steps, lie opens the door of a front room. It is in great disorder. There has been a scuffle. A Stetson hat lies on the hearthrug. From it Mallinson argues that Barrymore has been here. Going lound the table he sees the body of a man lying on the further side of it. He is dead. There is a smell of burnt powder, and a dark stain on his light grey suit. Shot through the heart. There are some papers in the man’s pockets. Glancing at a letter, Mallinson notes that the dead man is Peter Rogers. He leaves the house of tragedy. Outside he stumbles over a despatch case. With it lie makes his way to the car. Tompkins is ready, but a figure intervenes. A flashlight plays all over Mallinson It jerks out, and there is the soft pad of feet. Another moment, and Mallinson’s left fist shoots out, catching the man’s teeth. He then plunges into the taxi, and orders Tompkins to drive on. The figure attacks the driver, but is knocked down by the motor. On the way home Mallinson telephones' Scotland Yard concerning the murder. Tn the taxi he notes the presence of the despatch case he had nicked up. CHAPTERS V AND Vl.—Arrived at Tavistock Square. Mallinson orders Tompkins to see him in the morning. They separate. Having reached his rooms the despatch case is soon cut open. There are three well-wrapped parcels, each containing diamonds. Mallinson realises the immense value that is in his possession. and concludes they are thieves’ spoil. He reties them, and hides them in his bookcase. Next morning he roads an account of a "Mvsterious Murder in Bermondsey." He drives in a taxi to Chancery Lane, and deposits the diamonds in' a safe there, and returns home. After some discussion Tompkins goes for his taxi-cab. Returning, he says the man who" had directed them to Bagnnll Street is watching outside. CHAPTER VIT. Tlie thoughtful look came back in his face. There was that man outside. He was threatening to become a nuisance. It would be as well to settle matters with him at once. If Miss Barrymore were to pay a call or to appeal to himself for help, it would I never do to have that fellow shadow- • ing his every motion. Following a sudden impulse he put on a hat and, I descending the stairs, opened the

outer door. As he did so the sound of a quick step' came to him, and as he descended the three steps to the side path, a man cannoned against him sharply. He caught one glimpse of the man’s face, saw the light of recognition leap in the other’s eyes; and a second later the fellow turned and fled down the square. Mallisou called out after him. “Hi, there! Hi! Wait!" The only answer he received was the sound of flying feet, which, as he listened, was drowned by the blare of motor-horns, as the unending traffic of London felt its way blindly along the fog-shrouded thoroughfare of the Huston Road. (To be continued.) As Gerald Mallinsou returned indoors there was a very thoughtful look upon his face. This appearance in Tavistock Square of the man who had shown the way to Baguall Street was a disturbing development. What had happened was perfectly clear. The fellow, having traced Tompkins to his garage, had loitered about and then, concealed by the fog, had followed the taxi-driver to Tavistock Square. The fact that he had done so had an ominous look. That it meant either blackmail or an interview with the police he was quite sure; but which he could not decide. Reflection seemed to point to the wisdom of going down to New Scotland Yard and making a clean breast of the whole thing; and he had almost reached a decision to do so when the telephone upon his desk rang. He crossed to it and responded with the stereotyped “Hallo!” “Hallo!” came a voice that made his heart leap. “Is that Mr. Mallinson?” “Yes, Miss Barrymore,” he answered. “Ah! you have quick hearing. You recognise my voice?” “Yes: and T am glad to know you are safe and well. 1 have been rather worried over your disappearance last night. You got home safely, 1 presume?" “Yes!” There was a pause, then her voice sounded again, and he recognised a note of distress in it. “You have read your morning paper, Mr. Mallinson?" “Part of it; but I know more than the newspaper. 1 went into number— I into that house last night.” j “Oh!” a sob accompanied the word 1 and was followed by a little silence, then the voice came again quiveringly. “Mr. Mallinson, I am in great trouble.” “I can well believe that,” he answered feelingly. “My brother —I have not seen tr % since I left the station. I am afraid something terrible has happened. 1 | don’t know what to do. 1 have few friends in London, and I feel ... I feel that I want help.” “Yes," he responded quickly. “If 1 can be of service ” “It is very good of you. I know how very busy you must be; but if you can spare a few miuutes to talk over this dreadful affair I shall be very ; grateful." "I shall be happy to be of any as- ; sistance to you. If you will tell me where I can find you 1 will come to ” “Oh. that is extremely good of you. Since last night I am afraid to move j out in this dreadful fog. lam stay-

ins with my aunt at the Savoy. She is not in very good health and is keeping her room this morning. If you can come here we might have a quiet talk in the lounge.” “J will come almost at once. Every moment I am expecting a taxi ” “Oh, thank you. It is so very kind ” “Burr-r! ” The connection was broken, and as Mallinson set down the receiver, he caught the toot of a motor-horn in the

street below, and heard a vehicle come to a standstill.

“Tompkins—for a certainty!” he muttered. “And in the nick of time!” Putting on a coat and hat. he descended the stairs and passed out into the street to find Tompkins dressed fbr business. “You’ve come at a fortunate moment, Tompkins. I want to go to the Savoy, as quickly as you can.” “It’ll have to be a crawl, sir! If I go fast in this” —he waved a hand to indicate the fog—“we’ll have a smashup as certain as daylight.” “All right!” laughed Mallinson. “I

know the limitations imposed by a morning like this.” He stepped into the taxi, and quarter of an hour later entered the lounge at the Savoy. As he did so Zita Barrymore came forward to meet him. There were shadows under her eyes, and in the eyes themselves a light of anxiety, but she was rarely beautiful. A little flush came to her cheeks as she offered her hand, and as Gerald Mallinson took it, his eyes kindled. “It is very good of you to come so soon, Mr. Mallinson. I scarcely expected ” “It is a pleasure I would not deny myself for worlds, Miss Barrymore.” For one moment the anxiety in her eyes gave place to a gleam of laughter. “Compliments, Mr. Mallinson ” “No!” he retorted. “Facts!” “Then I am very grateful. Will you come this way. I have secured a comfortable corner where we can talk unheard by anj'one else.” She led the way to the corner in question, and to a couple of lounge chairs so placed that if desired those who used them might converse in privacy, and as she took one, indicated the other. “And you will like to smoke, Mr. Mallinson. Please do so. I know that men can talk better over a cigarette.” Mallinson accepted the invitation, lit his cigarette with a certain deliberation, then looked at the girl. “Well, Miss Barrymore, where do we begin?” “I scarcely know,” answered the girl quickly, “but if as you said over the telephone, you went into that house last night, you will know what 1 saw, and why I fled?” “Yes!” he answered. “I heard vou cry out ” “I was so startled,” she explained. “When I knocked at the door, which was ajar, I got no answer, and I ventured to step inside. I turned into that room where—where . . . And you can guess the shock I had. My brother was not there, but—but ” "He had been there?” suggested Mallinson. “Ah! You saw his hat?” “Yes! And I think it is a pity that neither of us thought to bring it away.” “I was too frightened to think of doing anything of the kind. The sight of that disordered room and of the dead man lying there was too much Lor me. I'm afraid I lost my head. My oue idea was to get out — to get away from that dreadful place. I can't remember very well what happened. I only know that I ran from that terrible room, and from the house; and I have an indistinct recollection of someone calling my name —” “It was I.” interrupted Mallinson. “1 heard you cry out, and guessed you were iu trouble. 1 ran to help you. and heard someone pass me in the Log—you. as I guessed, and I called out after you, but as I could not see, it was impossible to follow you. How did you get back here?” "I had a piece of good fortune.” answered the girl. "I ran on through the fog for I don t know how far, but presently when I was a little more self-possessed I found myself walkins in a street where there seemed to be much more traffic. A couple of

motor-buses passed me, but as I had no money I could not very well get on them, and 1 walked on, not knowing where I was going at all. Then at a corner 1 came most unexpectedly upon a cab. It was a decrepit-looking affair, and the horse as far as I could see was worse; but to me it was an ark of safety. The man, who was old, touched his hat. “ ‘Keb, ma’am?’ he asked. “‘Yes! yes!’ I said, opening the door for myself and stepping in. “ ‘Where to, ma'am?’ he asked, and when I told him he shook his head. “‘I couldn’t make it, not in this fog!’ he said. “ ‘Try,’ I urged, ‘you can charge any fare you like!’ “ ‘Well, for a pound note ’ “ ‘l’ll pay you two,’ I said. ‘lf you’ll only go.’ “ ‘Two!’ he said. ‘Two,’ and there was a note of incredulity in his voice that I could well understand, for the money was more than his cab was worth. “I am afraid my anxiety to be going made him suspicous. He was an old man and I imagine had been often bilked. Anyhow, next moment he put me in a difficulty. “‘Two pounds!’ he said, ‘for two pounds I’ll do it, if it takes me all night!’ Then he thrust out a grimy palm. ‘Money down,’ he said. “As you know I'd lost my purse. I hadn’t a farthing, and as 1 hesitated the man grew more insistent. “ ‘Money down—or I don’t stir a yard, not in this murk.’ “ ‘But,’ I protested. ‘l’ve lost my purse. It has been stolen from me. I haven’t a single coin with me, but when we get to the Savoy ” “‘A likely tale,’ he growled. ‘Out you go. I’ve had your sort before, an’ I’m not having any more.’ “I was desperate. I didn’t know what to do, and I knew it was no use arguing with the man. Then in ‘ a flash I remembered my rings, and drew one off. “ ‘Look at this,’ I said. ‘You can see it is gold, and if you will hold it in the light of the lamp you will be able to see that the stones are genuine. It is worth at least a hundred and twenty pounds and you can hold it in forfeit until I pay you, which I will do the moment we get to the hotel.” “He took the ring, examined it slowly and methodically in the light of the cab-lamo. Then he unbuttoned his coat, and carefully stowed the ring in an iuner pocket. “ ‘Right you are, ma'am,' he said. I tyke the job on. Two pounds or the ring—which you like. The Savoy did you say?’ “‘Yes! The Savoy!* I answered and never was more relieved in all my life than when that old cab began to rumble over the stones. It took us a long time to get here, how long I haven’t the faintest idea, but we

arrived safely at last, and I paid tlie old man his money and got my ring back; and then when he had driven away I discovered that I had lost die despatch case which my brother had given me to take to Bagnall Street. I think I must have left it in tiie cab ” “No,” broke in Mallinson. “You dropped it outside that house. I stumbled over it and brought it away with me.” “You have it?” cried the girl. “Oh. I am so glad. I don’t know what it contained, but I know* my brother thought that it was very important “It contained diamonds!” interrupted the novelist. “Yes, diamonds —uncut. 1 know because I took the liberty of opening the case that I might know what it contained —as I was and am pretty certain that the case is at the root of the tragedy which took place in Bermondsey last night.” “Are you sure?” asked the girl, a little note of horror in her voice. “I feel very sure. After you had gone last night, and after I had found the case where you had dropped it, an attempt to steal it from me was made by the black who ” “The man of whom you told me—the man who was at Waterloo?” “Yes! I am sure that he was the same man, and because I felt that if I was to be involved in the business I had a right to know what was in the case, I opened it, and. as I told you. found diamonds. You carried quite a large fortune to Bagnall Street last night, and I imagine that every yard of the way from Waterloo to that house you were shadowed by danger.” As he broke off be saw that the girl’s beautiful face was the index of various emotions. There was horror there, fear, and something else that he could not divine. He watched her, waiting for her to speak, and when she did so it was in a half whisper: “But the diamonds were Jack’s. He brought them with him from Africa. It was not bis fault that the man Peter Rogers was murdered!” CHAPTER VIII. For a moment after the girl had spoken. Gerald Mallinson did not reply. He was in considerable doubt as to what he could say that would be of any comfort to her. If his suspicions that the dead man was a receiver of stolen goods were true Jack Barrymore’s possession of the diamonds was not a very reassuring fact as to his honesty, since if he w*ere the legitimate owner of the stones, Hannot Garden, and not an obscure street in Bermondsey, was the proper avenue for their disposal. As he remained silent the girl spoke again. “Mr. Mallinson, do you think that I Jack—that Jack —killed that man?” “I do not know what to thiuk. . answered Malinson, in a non-commit- ! tal voice. “Your brother had been iliere. He had left his hat behind.

; and as you may have read in the papers an empty despatch case was found a few yards from the house, which is further evidence of his presence in the neighbourhood—at any rate it is evidence to you and me. whatever it may be to the police.” “You think that they—that they will be looking for Jack?’* “I have not a doubr of it. It is the most natural thing for them to do. Peter Rogers was not the man to go about wearing a Stetson hat. The police would soon learn that it was i not his. and finding it in that disI ordered room would instantly assuni“ that the owner had lost it in a struggle 1 with the dead man. and in the hurry : of departure after —after Rogers had I been shot, had left it behind him." “Oh!” said the girl in a low voice : that shook with anguish. “Oh! where i is Jack?” I “You have heard nothing of him. j seen nothing ” “Nothing since we parted at Waterloo last night.” Gerald Mallinson considered the situation. It had, he owned to himself. an ominous look. Barrymore's silence was inexplicable, except on the one line that he had fled, and that self-preservation made him utterly careless as to how his sister might be involved in the crime of Peter Rogers’s death. He must have known that he had reached the rendezvous before the girl, that it was a moral certainty that she would discover the crime, and yet he had been so utterly callous or so fearful for his own skin, that he had not stayed to warn her. but had sought safety in flight. That seemed to be the obvious explanation of Jack Barrymore’s disappearance. and as he considered it Mallinson was conscious of a surge of wrath in his heart. The fellow must be a brute to leave a girl to walk in such a situation —his own sister, too. “Mr. Mallinson, you don’t think that the police have got Jack —that they have arrested him?” “I am pretty certain that they have 1 not —or at any rate had not when •he morning papers were issued. If they had they would have proclaimed abroad the fact that an arrest had been made.” “Then, where is he?” Mallinson had no desire to tell what be really thought and evaded the question weakly. “This fog may have confused hint. If he did not know Bermondsey very well he may have lost himself ”

(To be continued daily.)