The Room Under the Stairs

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 868, 11 January 1930, Page 21

The Room Under the Stairs

The Baffling Story of a Man Who Read of His Own Murder.

By

Herman Landon

Copyright by tr. Howard Watt. Serialised by Ledger Syndicate.

CHAPTER XXX.— (Continued.) “Rut Lamont’s confession?” asked Dean, reverting to the core of the mystery. Shane smiled w ryly. “There’s such a thing as being too thorough-going,'’ he said musingly. “That was Littleby’s fault. He wanted to improve on an almost sure thing. The arselene project was coming along in fine shape, except for one thing. The formula was by rights the property of Paul Forrester. Everybody tlioughc Paul Forrester was dead. Littleby was almost sure of it, but he had no proof. He didn’t want to bring matters to a successful conclusion and then have Paul Forrester walk in on him some bright morning and claim the entire profits. “Such a thing wasn't likely to happen, yet it might. Littleby wouldn’t take chances. He decided to appeal to the courts to have Paul Forrester declared legally dead, as is sometimes done when a person has been missing a number of years. But the courts would insist on some proof, aside from the mere face of Paul Forrester’s absence. Littleby had none.” Shane cast a solicitous glance at the girl. “Then Mr. Lamont came to town, a very sick man, and Littleby invited him to his house. A telegram was sent to Miss Lamont, at Wichita, advising her to come to New York at once. Then—Will you tell the rest or shall I. Miss Lamont?” “Go on,” said the girl in a low voice. “Miss Lamont has already told me.” Dean put in, “how she was trapped by Littleby and made a prisoner in his house.” “Well, Littleby had a bright idea,” Shane contemptuously. “He thought he saw his chance to fabricate evidence that would induce the courts to pronounce Paul Forrester legally dead. A confession of murder would serve as w’ell as anything. He knew- a great many details about Forrester’s life until the time he disappeared. He also knew about the heap of bones in the room under the

stairs. He pieced all those things together and dictated a confession which he persuaded Mr. Lainont to sign. It was complete and convincing enough to satisfy anybody. But .iust how he got Mr. Lamont to put his name to that paper in the presence of a notary is something I don't see. I have an idea, but—” “I think I understand,” Dean interrupted. Scraps ,of observation, to gether with scattered remarks dropped by the girl, became suddenly a unified whole in his mind. “Mr. Lamont knew that his daughter was kept hidden in Littleby’s house. He was warned that she would be put to death unless he signed the confession. There was a telephone at his bedside, and whenever he showed signs of wavering he was told to listen in on the wire and hear his daughter's screams as she was being terrorised by Littleby’s henchman. Mr. Lament loved his daughter, and he simply did what any real father would have done. “Then I appeared on the scene, after the confession had been published In the newspaper, and several circumstances led Littleby to suspect that I was Paul Forrester. He tried first to frighten me away, then to have me murdered, but he failed both times. Then, in the event that I should declare myself as Paul Forrester—which, by the way, I had no intention of doing—he tried to substantiate the confession still further by compelling Mr. Lamont to give added details—such, for instance, as having noticed a scar on his victim's neck. He was even forced to declare that he suspected me of trafficking after his life. “If at any time he rebelled, the screams on the wire quickly subdued him. He had been warned that if he told anyone—Dr. Ballinger, for instance—of his daughter’s .presence in the house, she would be instantly murdered. “A strong and healthy man would have yielded to such persuasion, much more readily a dying one. And in

the end, fearing that lie might live long enough to retract his confession, Littleby murdered him.” Dean’s voice grew a little thick toward the end. Even n #,v that Littleby was dead, he felt a resurge of rage against the man. “Arselene was too good for him,” he muttered. “He isn’t the first man who’s lost his head over a bunch of coin,” Shane philosophised. “By the way, remember those pieces of glass, Dean? What do you make of them by this time??' “Oh.” said Dean thoughtfully, “I think I can turn my imagination loose on that problem and solve it, though it puzzled me for a while. I suppose Parson Bill's watch was broken in his struggle with Miss Gray. The fragments I found were from his watch. Littleby, I suppose, inspected the room under the stairs when he arranged his material for the confession Mr. Lamont was to sign, and he found the broken watch. Perhaps there was something distinctive about it; anyhow, he feared it might upset his whole scheme. While roaming about the house he had found an old watch of mine, and he substituted it for Parson Bill’s. That’s how I would dope it out.” LAYING THE GHOSTS Shane grinned. “You’re improving. Last time you tried to theorise about that watch you handed me a solution that was full of holes. But maybe,” with a shrewd wink in the novelist’s direction, “you were only shamming.” “Perhaps,” said Dean evasively. “Anyhow, I’ve come to the conclusion in the last few days that truth is a lot stranger than fiction—even my sort of fiction. Shane yawned ostentatiously and got up. Soon he bid them good-night and walked out. For a time they sat silent in the wavering glow of the red and green candles, then Dean took her hand and led her slowly from the room. In the hall their steps faltered; "by common instinct they stopped in front of the room under the stairs. “Tommie,” she whispered, leaning against his shoulder and drawing a long breath, “life has its happy endings, too, hasn't it?” “Happier,” he said with great conviction, Then, impetuously, while they were still standing in front of the room under the stairs, he tilted her head back. His cheek brushed hers. Then a- kiss —their first. “That will lay the ghosts,” he de dared triumphantly. THE END.