The Mystery of Ryeburn Manor

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 897, 14 February 1930, Page 5

The Mystery of Ryeburn Manor

By

.JOHN LAURENCE

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

NEW READERS BEGIN HERE The ringing- of a burglar alarm in a house in a quiet Kensington Road was the first event which led to the unravelling of the mysteries of Ryeburn Manor. Robert Harding, who lives in the hat next door, is aroused by* the alarm. From a constable who is watching the house he learns that the property is owned by a Mr. James Lee, a wealthy merchant, who also possesses a. country residence, Ryeburn Manor, Sussex. Mr Lee is at present at Ryeburn Manor, and one servant, Simmonds, a gardener, has been left m charge of the London House. . Harding goes to the roof of the building and encounters a young girl who is emerging from the roof door of the adjacent house. She is in -a state of great agitation. She says she was alone in the house next door and, hearing the alarm, was frightened and escaped bv way of the roof. Harding, impressed by the girl’s beauty and distress, takes her into his flat. When he mentions the possibility of the police questioning her she begs .his help in keeping them away. He leaves her in his flat while he goes to tell the police that lie has found a way of reaching the house next door through his roof. When he returns he discovers that the girl has gone. A few minutes later -a sergeant of police calls on him to tell him that a murder has been committed in the house next door. The murdered man is Simmons, the resident servant of James Lee. Even when Detective-Inspector Vidler" of Scotland Yard, comes on the scene and interrogates him, he is determined to avoid all mention of the girl, whom he is convinced has nothing to do with the crime. Vidler, however, is able to reconstruct Harding’s meeting with the girl, for he finds footprints and other evidence on the roof. He goes to report to the Chief Commissioner and Superintendent Markham. CHAPTER IT.—(Continued.) “And the poker shows unpremeditation,” commented the inspector. “I must look up the records of burglars who use pokers.” “This was from the dining-room fireplace, I take it?” asked the superintendent. “Yes* Mason and Bryant continued their tour of the house after I’d been telephoned, and found one of the windows open, leading into the back garden. Bryant is positive it was not open when he made his round.” “Maybe it was opened and then shut again when it started the alarm?” said Sir Arthur.

‘‘l have considered that. It's possible, of course. It depends to some extent on when the alarm was set. I haven’t found that out yet. Below the window is a hard path which has yielded nothing. The path continues round to the tradesmen's entrance, and so to the street. In the diningroom, near the body, I found that.” He held out a small key. “And on the floor, under the table, where I judged it had been blown by the draught from the door, that.” D.V. passed over a scrap of paper, torn evidently from <T sheet of notepaper or a writing-pad. On it was the one word “Death,” in a fine, well-edu-cated handwriting. “That’s cheerful,” remarked Sir Arthur. “That all?” “In the murdered man’s hand, all crumpled up, was this.” He held out a second scrap of paper, dirty and creased. On it was the one word, “Death,” in crude block capitals. “Queer!” 'said the commissioner. “Damned queer!” “I haven’t finished yet,” added D.V. with a cheerful grin. “I feel like a conjurer. There you are, gentlemen.” He placed a small key on the table beside the first one. The two were identical. “In the dead man’s waistcoat pocket,” he announced briefly. “What do you make of it?” The commissioner looked thoroughly puzzled, while the superintendent stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I’ve got an idea,” admitted D.V., “but it is too clever for you to understand before breakfast. Besides, I must wait until tomorrow before I can verify it.” Neither asked him what the idea was. Both, indeed, knew that D.V. never talked much when he was not certain, however plausible his theories might be, and he was too brilliant a man to be pressed to give his theories. “Finished, D.V. ?” asked the superintendent. “Not by a long chalk, Methuselah. 1 went upstairs and liad a look round, particularly across the roofs. Roofs are interesting, my friends, and the dark spaces below them are more interesting still, and more dusty.” “KEEP AN EYE ON HARDING” The commissioner looked at the dirty white dress-shirt of the inspector. “I must say you seem to have been wallowing in it. I gather you found footprints on the dust of time, as it were?” “A-plenty, sir, she said. Footprints of Harding aud Bryant and a most charming girl. Charming young ladies who visit dusty lofts and climb across roofs late at night are very intriguing to an old bachelor like myself. When I get married I shall certainly marry a woman who can climb roofs.” The more flippant D.V. became the more certain it was that he was on

a hot trail. They did not interrupt, though they were impatient to hear what he had discovered. They knew, in fact, that if they interrupted D.V. would dry up and report officially in his own good time. “She ought to be able to scale w'alls, too. and climb ladders in the dar'f, ” continued the inspector. “I found in the loft and along the gutter to the parapet footprints which corresponded with those of Harding. I noticed his boots particularly when I called upon him. There was no doubt about them. They fitted in with the story ks told as well. But he did more than walk to the parapet. He edged round the corner of the roof and bent down watching.” “Good work,” nodded the commissioner.

“Found where he’d placed his hand on the roof to steady himself. Got some beautiful prints,” continued the inspector. ‘VHe didn’t tell me about going round the corner of the roof. What wa;3 he watching? The door in the roof of this house, of course, waiting for the young and beautiful damsel to appear.” Fie paused irritatingly, and slowly filled his pipe for the third time since he had begun his story. “I found the impressions of a woman’s shoe in the* gutters'of both houses, and in the lofts of both houses,” continued the inspector at last. “Many of the prints, especially on the joists, were overlaid with Bryant’s or Harding’s, but in two cases I found her foot had come over Harding’s print. They were together in the loft next door at the same time.” “Good lad,” commented the superintendent. “What about this loft?”

“No sign of Harding,” replied the inspector, shaking his head. “Only Bryant’s and the girl s. On the upright of the post by the trapdoor in Harding’s place I found a smudged print of a hand. Looked to me as though it had been made by a dusty glove. Judging from the height of this print, if she had stood there to support herself before going down the ladder, and by her footprints, I should say she was about five feet four, slim, beautiful, young, attractive, a lady, and terribly persuasive.” “Oh, come now, D.V.,” protested the commissioner. “I’ll concede the height, but nothing else.” “You’d concede all if you hadn’t been married so long you’ve forgotten your youth,” said D.V. bluntly. “Do you think Harding would hav"e taken the trouble to lie, after knowing a murder had been committed here, for a fat, ugly, old woman? He’s still susceptible, and you’ll find I’m right. Of course, she went down into his flat, and of course she bolted when the coast was clear.” “Think she did it?” “I’m not saying until I find out who she is, and why Harding is shielding her,” said the inspector cautiously. “But this is the only real clue we’ve got at present. “What do you propose to do?” “Keep an eye on friend Harding.” He briefly outlined Robert Harding's career. . “He doesn’t seem to me the kind of man who’d get himself mixed up with a common murder,” said the commissioner.

“It’s my belief he’s never seen the girl before in his life,” said D.V. “She probably told him some plausible tale, and he fell for it. Sooner or later he’ll cough it all up. I propose to lie low for a bit ancl say nuffin’. . . . And now, what about a hot bath for yours truly and a few hours’ steep. It’s half-past four.” “You’ve earned it, D.V.,” agreed the commissioner. “I forgive you for hauling us from our beauty sleep.” “Some people waste time trying to get it,” was D.V.’s parting shot as he rose wearily, and made his way down to his waiting car. Robert Harding poured out a second cup of coffee and lighted his afterbreakfast cigarette. “Any more developments next door, Jennings?” “Not that I knows of. I 'ear they've taken the body away.” “The kind of thing you would hear, Jennings. What of the weather?” “Visibility good,” replied Jennings, aware that his master only wanted a report from a flying point of view. “Winds moderate.” “Then I shall take 'a flip round,” decided Harding. “Pack me a bag in case I’m away for the night. I’ll telephone you round about six, so you can go to one of your variety shows if I’m not back. By the way, how do you find the new lady help?” asked Harding. Jennings rubbed his hands deprecatingly together. “Fairly satisfactory, sir. She’s a bit slap-dash with the w r ashing up.” “Well, she’s all right at making beds,” said Harding, drily. “Inspector Vilder saw’ *er come in this morning and asked ’er who she was. 'Er late husband was in the police, so I’m given to understand. But I don’t think she’s taken to the inspector. sir. ’Er husband never rose from the ranks. The inspector annoyed ’er by asking the size of her feet. ‘No lady,’ she says to me, ‘likes to have her feet catechised,’ specially as I understand she takes a height.”^ “Is that a large size for a woman?” asked Harding. ““Well, in a manner of speaking, it ain’t small.” “I suppose when the inspector learnt she’d got large feet he lost in her. Jennings? They are rather'a drawback from the police point of view*. I believe. Get that bag packed and the car out.” A TRIP IN THE AIR He stared gloomily at the fire. Little Blue Eyes had small feet, deliciously small feet, the neatest shod feet he had ever seen. “No woman of my acquaintance will be safe from D.V. if she has feet like

that,” he muttered. “He’ll have their life history out of them in ten minutes.’* It required little imagination on his part to know that the inspector had studied the photographs of the footprints in the dust of, the loft, and had become well aware of the existence of the girl who had been there. Harding wasn’t so sure whether D.V. suspected him or not of having seen her. Harding, in fact, was never quite sure from that moment exactly what D.V. did know. He had a shrewd suspicion the detective w-ould give nothing away until he was sure of his ground. The morning had not settled Harding’s mind about the girl on the roof. Now it was certain, however, Scotland Yard knew of her existence he was more inclined to range himself on her side, on the principle that the quarry deserved more sympathy than the hunter. “If I dp run across her again by any miracle, D.V.’s not knowing,” be decided. “At least, not until I’ve had a heart-to-heart talk with her ladyship.” When he went out to his car, he half expected to see the inspector waiting, but the only sign of the detective’s presence w*as the big limousine standing outside the house next door. Harding drove down the Edgware Road to the w r ell-known London airdrome, w*here he kept his airplane, and gave no further thought to the inspector. The freedom of the air would, at any rate, bring him freedom from Vidler for a while. It wras a perfect day for flying, a blue sky overhead and only the gentlest of breezes. He decided, as he approached the airdrome, to take a trip to Bristol and have lunch w’ith a congenial spirit who had also passed four years in the air at a critical period in the world s history. As he pulled up on the edge of the row of hangars. Harding stared at the car ahead as though he could hardly believe his eyes. It was the big limousine he had left in West Kensington a bare half an hour previously. Standing beside it, talking to a wellknown pilot; was Inspector David Vidler.

“What the dickens brings you out. here, D.V.?” asked Harding, nodding good morning to the inspector’s companion. “I thought you were in West Kensington!” “Thought I’d take the air,” replied the detective flippantly. “In fact I was just talking about the possibilities of hiring an air-taxi.” Robert Harding came to a quick conclusion. If Vidler wanted to hire an airplane, it was because he wanted to go somewhere in a hurry. That meant he had made some important SUMMER FATIGUE Heat is a tremendous consumer of energy. That is why many people become rundown and debilitated during the summer months. Your ordinary, everyday food does not nourish your nerves properly. Thus the sj ? stem is not recharged with the energy and vitality consumed by the heat. You need Marshall’s Fospherine! “Marshall’s” nourishes and builds up worn-out and ragged nerves, imparting renewed vitality to your whole system. “Marshall’s” is a necessity during the summer months. Get a bottle today! All chemists and stores. 100 doses for 2s 6d. 3

discovery, perhaps about the girl on the roof, and was off to verify it without loss of time. It seemed too good an opportunity to miss, reflected Harding. He must keep in touch with the inspector at all costs. “Look here, I’m going up for a joy ride. I’ve got a two-seater, and have no particular ideas where to go. What about it?” “Good man!” cried the detective, eagerly. “How soon can you be ready? I want to go down to Ryeburn, near Winchelsea.” “Ten minutes. I’ll see she’s filled up and 0.K.” He went off exulting, and the inspector grinned cheerfully as he watched him. “It isn’t often one gets a chance of a joy ride with a British ace,” he remarked to his companion. “Harding’s one of the best pilots in the country.” replied the other. “You are lucky, Mr. Vidler.” A VISIT TO RYEBURN MANOR. Robert Harding thought himself lucky, too, as he climbed into the cockpit a quarter of an hour later. He had behind him, begoggled and protected from the wind by a leather helmet and heavy leather coat, the one man in the world in whose movements he was most interested. (To Be Continued Tomorrow.)