The Mystery of Ryeburn Manor

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 894, 11 February 1930, Page 5

The Mystery of Ryeburn Manor

By

JOHN LAURENCE

CHAPTER 11.

‘•Please, please, don’t tell them I’m here, that you found me on the roof. I can explain everything!” she cried wildly. He was puzzled by her attitude. If she had not been so clearly one of his own class he would have been suspicious of her. But he couldn't believe for one moment that she had done anything which would make her wish to avoid the police. She seemed to him hardly more than a child, though her appeal to him was that of a beautiful woman in distress. It appeared to him she was distraught from the double fright she had received, first from the alarm bell which was still monotonously ringing, and secondly from his own sudden appearance in the loft. She did not seem capable of thinking clearly, though afterward he was to change his opinion. He did not realise until later, indeed, hqw close a guard she had kept on her tongue, how she had allowed him to do nearly all the talking. “Why, what is there to explain?” he asked. “No, no, I didn’t mean that. I mean they’ll ask me questions. I don’t think I can stand it tonight.” There was a suspicion of tears in her eyes, and Harding capitulated. “All right, then. I’ll say nothing about you to them,” he agreed. “But I must go down and tell that policeman I have found a way over the roof, or he’ll wonder what’s happened. You sit dowu and keep quiet. I’ll see you home afterwards.”

She sank down in the chair in which he had been reading when the noise of the alarm had disturbed him. Her small figure seemed almost lost

Author of “The Sign of the Double Cross Inn,” etc.

in its comfortable expanse. She appeared utterly weary and worn out. Harding turned at the door and saw she was watching him. He nodded cheerfully and went out, his last impression being of a pair of appealing blue, trusting eyes which he could not betray. He found the policeman chatting with a police sergeant. The latter looked at him sharply, and the policeman explained: “This is the gentleman who went to see if there was a way across the roof.”

“I found it all right,” laughed Harding, holding out his dust-grimed hands. “I noticed their skylight door was open, so you can get in.”

“You’d better go up, Jim,’' said the sergeant. “I’ll keep an eye down here. The man’s coming from the Burglar Alarm Company,” he added, turning to Harding. “I expect him any minute. Shouldn’t be surprised if he got here before you got through. You won’t be troubled much more tonight, Sir. Anybody in the flat below you?” ‘I believe they’re away,” replied Harding. “I'm a newcomer here, so I can’t really say. But if they are in I should have thought that that infernal bell would have brought their noses to the windows.” He turned and led the way upstairs, and afterward followed the constable up the ladder. “Do you want me?” he asked, as the constable flashed his bull’s-eye lantern round.

“No, sir, I’ll be all right now. Thank you very much, sir.” Harding stood for half a minute, head and shoulders iu the loft, watching the constable make bis way across the joists toward the door in the wall, before he went back to his flat. And then he received his second shock that night. The girl he had left in the sitting-room was no longer there. As he stood staring at the empty chair he was conscious of a curious silence, and it slowly penetrated his half-conscious mind that the alarm bell was no longer ringing. THE PEARL A quick search of the fiat made it clear to Robert Harding that the girl whose beauty and distress had swept him off his feet had gone, had left without so much as “Thank you.” "Well 1 damned,” he cried. "Of all the ungratefulness of the human animal commend me to a pretty woman! Pah! What the dickens does he know about it?” He picked up the hook he had been reading and dropped it again as his eye caught the glint of something white by the leg of the chair. “A pearl!” Ae muttered. “A souvenir which I can return. I wonder how she came to drop it?” He slipped it into his pocket, and dropped into the chair. Was it fancy or could he detect the fragrance of the girl who had sat there a few minutes ago?” “Darn it!” he growled. “She shouldn't have left like that. I hope she’s all right.” Somehow he felt there was something wrong in the way the girl had gone. She had impressed him so that he could not believe she would do anything which was not right. He decided that she must have been so distracted tha; she had not known what she was doing, had fled merely to get away from the sound of the bell which had so frightened her. As the thought came to him there sounded a sharp ringing at his own bell. Downstairs he found a very official-looking sergeant, whose manner was distinctly brusque.

“May I use your telephone, sir?” he said, and stepped inside without waiting for Harding’s permission. He seemed to be in a desperate hurry.

“The bell’s stopped,” began the later.

“The man arrived just after the constable went upstairs with you,” said the sergeant. “We got in first and stopped it and met him coming down the stairs. Where’s the telephone ?” Harding indicated the instrument in the hall. “Victoria 8000,” snapped the sergeant into jhe mouthpiece. “That Scotland Yard? Is Inspector Vidler there? Inspector Vidler?” “Sergeant Mason speaking, of Kensington. I’m speaking from 89 Ditchling Road, West Kensington. A man has been found murdered in Number SO.” To Harding the hall seemed to darken momentarily, and he stared with incredulous eyes at the sergeant, who was watching him as he listened to his superior speaking. Murder! The word was a shock to )iim. He instantly had a vision of a slim girl with terrified blue eyes and trembling, kissable lips; a girl who could no more kill a man than she could kill a fly. He set his teeth as the sergeant replaced the receiver. “Murder? Did you say murder, sergeant?” he asked. “This is terrible.” “That’s what set the alarm off, said the sergeant. “Gave me quite a turn when I found him downstairs. Back of his head bashed in with a poker. You didn’t see anything, sir, before the bell started?” Harding shook his head. “We found one of the bottom back windows open,” continued the sergeant. “I thought at first he escaped by the roof. I remember you’d told me you’d found the skylight open.” Harding took a firm hold over himself. He was thankful the sergeant had said “he.” ' “Come in and have a drink. This is terrible,” he repeated. He poured out a generous three fingers of whisky for the sergeant and himself. “Inspector Vidler, did you say? 1 seem to have heard his name before.” The. sergeant nodded as he tossed off his drink. “The best man they’ve got at the Yard. He’s been promoted over the heads of dozens of them. He’s the youngest inspector in the force. I shouldn’t like to have Inspector Vidler after me if I’d done anyone in. May as well hang yourself at once and get it over. He’ll probably want to talk to you tonight, sir, if it’s not too late.” “I’ll be here,” replied Harding. “Though I don’t see what help I can give,” he added cautiously. MURDER! “You never know, sir, with the inspector. He’s pretty quick on the uptake. You might have seen something or somebody as didn't seem important to you, and he’ll fasten on it like a limpet. He's a rare one for dragging information out of people without them knowing it. I’d be getting downstairs, sir. He’ll be here quicker than greased lightning. Hello, somebody coming in!” His ear had caught the sound of a key rattling in the lock. “That’s my man Jennings,” explained Harding. “He patronises variety shows. I believe it was the Coliseum tonight.” He accompanied the sergeant to the door, and saw out of the corner of his eye the man-servant hovering in the background. “Anything good at the Coliseum, Jennings?” he asked. (To be continued tomorrow)