DESTROYING ANGEL

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 830, 26 November 1929, Page 5

DESTROYING ANGEL

BY

LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE

(Copyright by Public Ledger.)

CHAPTER XXl.—Continued. An hour passed in silence, and an other, and yet another: Sum Fat sat moveless in the shadow, which Wended so perfectly with his dark blue-silk garments as to render him almost indistinguishable; a figure as patient and imperturbable as any bland, stout, graven god ot his reli son. Slowly the moonlight shifted over the floor, lengthened until it almost touched the toe of one of his felt-soled shoes, and imperceptibly withdrew.

Then, with no other presage, a shadow Bitted past one of the side windows, and in another reappeared more substantially on the verandah. Sum Fat grew altogether tense, his zaze fixed and exclusively focused upon that apparition. Cautiously, noiselessly, edging inch by inch across the verandah, the man approached the door. 'lt was open, hooked back against the wall; only the wire screen was in his way. Against this he flattened his face: and a full, long minute elapsed while he carefully surveyed what was visible ot the Interior. Even Sum Fat held his breath throughout that intermin able reconnaissance. At length, reassured, the man laid hold of th,, screen and drew it open. I( complained* a little, and he started violently and waited another minute tor the alarm which did not ensue Then abruptly he slipped into the room and slowly drew the screen shut behind him. Another minute: no sound detectable more untoward than 'hat of steady respiration in the bed room: with a movement as swift and sinister as the swoop of a vulture the than sprang toward the bedroom door I-eaping from a sitting position with a bound that was little less than a flight through the air, the China man caught him halfway. There fol lowed a shriek, a heavy fall that shook 'he bungalow, the report of a revolver, sounds of scuffling. . . . Whitaker, half dazed, found him self standing in the doorway, regardless of his injury. He saw, as one who dreams and yet is conscious that he does but dream, kmber lighting candles calmly applying the flame of a taper to one "fter another as he made a round of 'h» sconces. The moonlight paled and the windows turned black as the mellow radiance brightened. Then a slight movement in the shadow of the table drew his attention to the Boor. Sum Fat was kneel■ug there, on all fours, above something that breathed heavily and 'tcuggled without avail.

Whitaker's sleep-numbed faculties cleared. "Ember!” he cried. “What ill the name of all things strange !”

limber threw him a flickering smile. "Oh, there you are?” he said cheerfully, “I’ve got something interesting to show you. Sum Fat" —he stooped and picked up a revolver —“you may let him up now if you think he's safe.” “Safe enough.” Sum Fat rose, grinning. “He plenty.” He mounted guard beside the door. For an instant his captive seemed reluctant to rise; free, he lay without moving, getting his breath in great heaving sobs: only his gaze ranged ceaselessly from Ember’s face to Whitaker’s and back again, and his hands opened and closed convulsively. Ember moved to his side and stood over him. balancing the revolver in bis palm. "Come,” he said impatiently. “Up with you!” The man sat up as if galvanised by fear, got more slowly to his knees, then, grasping the edge of the table, dragged himself laboriously to a standing position. He passed a hand uncertainly across his mouth, brushed the hair out of his eyes and tried to steady himself, attempting to infuse defiance into his air, even though cornered, beaten and helpless. Whitaker’s jaw dropped and his eyes widened with wonder and pity. He couldn’t deny the man, yet he found it hard to believe that this quivering, shaken creature, with his lean and pasty face and desperate, glaring eyes, this man in rough, stained, soiled and shapeless garments, could be identical with the well setup prosperous and confident man of affairs he remembered as Drummond. And yet they were one. Appalling to contemplate the swift, devastating course of moral degeneration that had spread like gangrene through all the man's physical and mental fibre. . . . "Take a good look,” Ember aflvised grimly. “How about that pet myth thing, now? What price the astute sleuth —eh? Perhaps you'd like to take a few more funny cracks at ray simple faith in hallucinations.”

CHAPTER XXII. THE HAPPY INVALID

Whitaker, unable to stand any longer without discomfort, hobbled to a chair and sat down. “Well?” Drummond demanded harshly in a quavering snarl. “Now that you’ve got me. what’re you going to do with me?” There was a high, hysterical accent in his voice that struck unpleasantly on Ember's ear. He cocked his head to one side, studying the man intently. Drummond flung himself a step an uv from the table, paused, and again faced his captors with bravado “Well?” he cried again. “Well?”

Ember nodded toward Whitaker. “Ask him,” he said briefly. Whitaker gave a gesture of despair. “If you’d only been content to keep out of the way .. . ! If only you’d let me alone ”

“Then y° u let Sara Law alone, d’you hear?” Surprised Whitaker paused before replying, “Please understand,” he said quietly, “that Mrs. Whitaker is seek ing a divorce from me. After that, if she has any use for you I have no objection to her marrying you. “And as for the money you stole, I have said nothing about that —intend to say nothing. If you’d had the sense to explain things to me—if I could count on you to leave me alone and not try again to murder me ” “Then shut up—— ’’ “That’ll be about all,” Ember inter posed quietly. At a glance from him. Sum Fat closed in swiftly and caught and pinioned Drummond’s arms from behind.

A disgusting change took place in Drummond. In an instant he was struggling, screaming, slavering; his face congested, eyes starting, features working wildly as he turned and twisted in his efforts to free himself Sum Fat held him as he would have* held an unruly child. Whitaker looked away, feeling faint and sick Embei looked on with shrewd and penetrating interest, biding the time when a break in Drummond’s ravings would let him be heard. When it came at length, together with a gradual weakening of the man’s struggles, the detective turned to Whitaker. “Sorry.” he said. “I didn’t dare take any further chances. He’d 've been at your throat in another minute. I could see him working himself up to a frenzy. If Sum Fat hadn’t grabbed him in time, there’s no telling what might not have happened.” Whitaker nodded. “It isn’t as if we had simply an everyday crook to deal with,” Ember went on, approaching the man. “He’s not to be trusted or reasoned with. He’s just short of a raving tnorphomaniac, or I miss my guess.” “That explains . . .” Whitaker muttered, sickened. “We’ll see what a cure does for him before we indulge in criminal proceed ings—shall we?” "By all means.” “Good.” Ember glanced at his watch. "I’ll have to hurry along now —must be in town not later than 9 o’clock this morning. I’ll take him with me. No, don’t worry—can handle him easily. It’s a bit of'a walk to the village, but that will only help to quiet him down. I’ll be back tomorrow; meanwhile you’ll be able to sleep soundly unless ” He checked, frowning thoughtfully “Unless what?” Ember jerked his head to indicate the prisoner. “Of course, this isn’t by any chance the fellow you mixed it up with over at the beach—and so forth?” "Nothing like him.” “Queer. I can’t find any trace of him —the other one—nor can I account for him. He doesn’t seem to fit in anywhere. However” —his expression lightened—“l dare say you were right; he’s probably only some idle, lightfingered prowler. I’d keep my eyes open for him, but 1 don’t really believe you need worry much.” Within ten minutes he was off on his lonely tramp through two miles of woodland and as many more of little travelled country road, at dead of night, with a madman in handcuffs for sole company. “You ask me, I think, very excel lent qhick cure.” Sum Fat having for the third time since morning annointed with liniment and massaged Whitaker’s ankle, ten deriy adjusted and laced the make shift canvas brace, drew a sock over it, and then with infinite care inserted the foot in a high-cut canvas tennis shoe. He stood up, beaming. Whitaker extended his leg and cast

a critical eye over the heavily bandaged ankle. “Anyway,” he observed, "the effect is arresting. I look like a half Clydesdale.” Sum Fat’s eyes clouded, then again gleamed with benevolent interest. “You take it easy one day or two —no walk much —just loaf —no go see pretty ladies ” “Go ’way, you heathen —go clean your teeth!” cried Whitaker, indignantly. “ —and 1 think be all well and sound,” concluded Sum Fat. He waddled away, chuckling. Waiting till he was well out of sight. Whitaker got up, and with the aid of a cane made a number of tentative experiments in the gentle art of short-distance pedestrianism. The results were highly satisfactory; he felt little or no pain, thanks to Sum Fat’s ice-packs and assiduous attentions in general; and )vas hampered in free movements solely by the stiff brace and high-laced shoe. On the othSr hand, he felt ’ that the advice to which he had just listened was sound: it would be unwise to attempt a neighbourly call within at least another twenty-four hours. He resumed his chair on the verandah, and sighed. It was late afternoon, and he was lonely. After the interest and excitement of the preceding day and night, today seemed very dull and uneventful; it had been, in truth, nothing less than stupid—a mere routine of meals and pipes interrupted by no communication from the outer world more blood-stirring than the daily calls of the village grocer and butcher. The trouble with him was (he began to realise) that he had lived too long a hermit. For six years he had been practically isolated and cut off from the better half of existence; femininity had formed no factor in his cosmos. But now, of a sudden, he had been granted a flash of insight into the true significance of companionship between a man and a woman who had something in common aside from community in their generation. Not two hours altogether of such intercourse had been his, but it had been enough to infuse all his consciousness with a vague but irksome discontent. He had lashed himself into a very respectable transport of resentful rage before he realised what way his thoughts were leading him; but he calmed down as quickly when, chancing to lift his eyes from their absorbed study of the planks compos ing the verandah floor, he discovered a motor-boat drawing in toward the landing stage.

At once a smile of childlike serenity displaced the scowl. Instinctively he gathered himself together to rise, but on reconsideration retained his seat, gallantry yielding to an intuitive sense of dramaticvalues; a chair-bound invalid is. a much more sympathetic object than a man demonstrating a surprisingly quick recovery from an incapacitating accident. Nevertheless, there seemed no objection to his returning a cheerful flourish to the salute of a slender arm. brown and bare to the point where a turned-back shirtwaist sleeve met a rounded elbow.

Poised lightly over the bows, the woman waited, her figure all in white sharp-cut against the blue of sky and water, with an effect as vital as it was graceful. Then at the right instant leaping to the dock with the headwarp, she made the little vessel fast with two deft half-hitches round the outmost pile, and turning came swinging to dry land and up the gentle slope to the verandah, ease and strength and joy of living inherent in every flowing movement, matching well the bright comeliness of her countenance and the shining splendour of her friendly eyes. No imaginable consideration, however selfish, could have kept Whitaker any longer in his chair.

"The most amiable person I know!” he cried, elated. “Greetings!” She paused by the steps, looking up, a fascinating vision. “No—please! I’ve only stopped for. an instant. Do sit down.” “Shan’t—until you do.”

“No—really—unique though the prospect be! 1 left Elsie and the cook alone, two poor defenceless women; the gardener is taking his weekly dayoff in the village. We won’t see anything of him till morning, probably—when he’ll show up very meek and damp about the head.” “Aren’t you afraid?” “I? Nonsense! I’m shamelessly able-bodied —and not afraid to pull a trigger, besides. Moreover, there aren’t any dangerous characters in this neighbourhood.” “Then I presume it’s useless for me to offer by services as watch dog?” “Entirely so. And when I choose a protector, I shall pick out one sound of-limb as well as wind.” “Snubbed,” he said mournfully. “And me that lonesome . . . Think of the long, dull evening I’ve got to live through somehow." “1 have already thought of it. And being kind-hearted, it occurred to me that you might be one of those meanspirited creatures who can enjoy double-dummy.” "It’s the only game I really care for with a deathless passion.” “Then, if 1 promise to come over this evening and play you a rubber or two —will you permit me to go home now?” “On such terms I’ll do anything you can possibly suggest,” he declared, enchanted. “You mean it—honest Injun?” “Cross my heart and hope to die —” “But . . . how.will you get here? Not alone, through the woods! I can’t permit that.” “Elsie shall row me down the shore and then go back to keep cook company. Sum Fat can see me home—if you find it still necessary to keep up tlifj invalid pose.” “I’m afraid,” he laughed, “I shall call, my own bluff . . . Must you really go so soon?” “Good afternoon,” she returned demurely; and ran down the steps and off to her boat.

CHAPTER XXIII. KIDNAPPED! Smiling quietly to himself, Whitaker watched the girl cast the boat off, get under way, and swing it out of sight behind the trees. Then his smile wavered and faded and gave place to a look of acute discontent. He rose and limped indoors to ransack Ember’s wardrobe for evening clothes—which he failed, perhaps fortunately, to find. He regarded with an overwhelming sense of desolation the tremendous arid waste of time which must intervene before he dared expect her: a good four hours —no, four and ahaif, since she would in all likelihood dine at a sensible hour, say, about 8 o’clock. By half-past eight, then, he might begin to look for her; but, since she was indisputably no woman to cheapen herself, she would probably kep him waiting till nearly 9. Colossal waste of time, impossible to contemplate without exacerbation. ... ,- To make matters worse, Sum Fat innocently enough served Whitaker’s dinner promptly at 6, under the mis-

apprehension that a decent consideration for his foot would induce the young man to seek his bed something earlier than usual. Three mortal hours to fritter away in profitless anticipation. . . At 7 Whitaker was merely nervous. By 8 he was unable to sit still. Half an hour later the house was too small to contain him. He found his cane and took to the verandah, but only to be driven from its shelter by a swarm of mosquitoes attracted by the illuminated windows. Not in the least resentful, since his ankle was occasioning him no pain whatever, he strolled down toward the shore: not a bad idea at all—to be there to welcome her. The night was loud and dark. The moon was not to rise for another half-hour, and since sundown the wind had come in from the south-west to dissipate the immaculate day-long calm and set the waters and the trees in motion with its urgent, animating breath. Blowing at first fitfully, it was settling momentarily down into a steady, league-devour-ing stride, strong with the promise of greater strength to come. Whitaker reflected: “If she doesn't hurry, she won’t come by boat at all. for fear of a wetting.” He thought again: "And of course —I might’ve known —she won't start till moonrise, on account of the light." And again, analysing the soft, warm rush of air: “We'll have rain before mojning.” He found himself at the end of the dock, tingling with impatience, but finding some little consolation in the

restless sweep of the wind against his face and body. He stood peering j up along the curve of the shore toward the other landing stage. He could see little—a mere impres sionistic suggestion of the shoreline picked out with the dim. semi-phos-phorescent glow of breaking wavelets. The night was musical with the clash _ of rushing waters, crisp and lively above the long, soughing drone of the . wind in the trees. Eastward the barrier beach was , looming stark and black against growing greenish pallor in the sky. A mile to the westward, down the shore. : the landlocked lighthouse reared its tower, so obscure in gloom that the lamp had an effect of hanging without ; support, like a dim yellow Japanese lantern afloat in mid-air. Some minutes elapsed. The pallor of the east grew more marked. Wit, aker fancied he could detect a figure i - moving on the Fiske dock. Then, startled, he grew conscious of the thick drone of a heavily powered motor-boat near inshore. Turn ing quickly, he discovered it almost at once: a black, vague shape not "0 yards from where he stood, showing ; neither bow nor sidelights: a stealthy and mysterious apparition creeping toward the dock with something of the effect of an animal about to spring And immediately he heard a man s voice from the boat, abrupt with anger: “Not this place, you ass—the next. ' “Shut up,” another veice replied. “There's somebody on that dock.”