The Mystery of Ryeburn Manor

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 909, 28 February 1930, Page 5

The Mystery of Ryeburn Manor

By

JOHN LAURENCE

Author of ‘ The Sign of the Double Cross Inn,'’ etc.

CHAPTER XXlll,—(Continued.) j < - “I believe he was as fat as that J before he got married,” said the Com- | missioner, as he looked at the big frame of the Superintendent. “Looks to me, D.V., that she’s in it all the same. She may have been an unwilling victim, coerced by Thornton, but I don’t see how y-ou get over that handwriting.” “Nor do I,” confessed Vidler. “That’s what worries me, because I know it’s all wrong somewhere. This case is getting my goat.” “Shall I take it over?” asked' Markham, stroking his heard. The inspector looked at liis superior with a broad grin oil his face. “If I hadn’t got to keep faith with the public for the sake of the Yard's reputation I should be very happy to let y-ou have a go at it. I suppose I should have to come back to clear up the mess. Either Harding or I or both were shot at last night.” SOLUTION IS DOWN THERE” His two companions looked at him expectantly. There was a slight smile of amusement on the face of the Superintendent. He knew very well that the surest way to make Day-id Vidler pursue an investigation t,o the bitter end was to offer to take it over himself. “Harding jumped to the conclusion it must have heen Thornton,” Vidler said. “Thornton was certainly out of the house about that time. There’s one of the cartridges.” “You searched Thornton’s room, of course?” asked Sir Arthur. “This morning, while he was hay-ing breakfast. I found a revolver in a yy-ooden settle. It whs not fitted with a silencer, and was unloaded. Nor did it appear to have been fired recently. If it had heen, then it had been cleaned. It takes those cartridges. I didn’t hay-e time to turn the box out, but the contents had every appearance of not having been disturbed for a long time. There yvas a thin film of dust on most of the objects on the top, but the revolver yvas clean enough.” “You’re going hack tonight?” Vidler nodded. “I think the solution is dorvn there,” lie said. “And if it’s Thornton I’ll get him. But I’ve got to explain away Miss Sunderland first and Simmond’s key.” ANOTHER CLUE “And that man who was by the summer-house when Thornton and Miss Sunderland were quarrelling. He’s the piy-ot of the whole affair.” The inspector looked quickly at the Superintendent. “I’m beginning to believe, Markham,” he said, rubbing the corner of his eye, “that you have some glimmerings of intelligence, though you’re married. That man is to me the key

of the whole problem. He doesn't fit j in with other things at present, hoyv- j ever.” “You’ve got someone iu your mind, ! D.V. ?” asked Sir Arthur. Vidler refused to be drawn into ; further argument, however. “To sum up,” he declared, “Miss ! Sunderland can be proved to have j been in Ditchling Road round about the time Simmonds yvas murdered, to i hay-e bolted without offering any ex- j planation, to have known the combination of the safe, and to have written it down. She may- or may not have j dropped it, or given it to Thornton, ! yvho dropped it. His alibi is uncertain, he has quarrelled yvith Simmonds, he has had a key of the safe ] made, he’s carrying on an intrigue with one woman while engaged to another, and he has a revolver, which might hay-e been used in an attempt to kill a perfectly good inspector.” “An inspector,” corrected Markham. “No superlatives necessarv, D.V.” “Thornton on the whole appears the villain of the piece. Outstanding snags, Simmond’s key-, the man by the summer-house, and failure to take the pearls,” finished Vidler, as the telephone bell rang. “Is that you, D.V.?’’ came Harding’s y-oice. “Jennings has just turned up. He’s been doing some more scouting. He met the sery-ant Mary Jarvis, and she told him the name of Thorn- . ton’s actress friend, Lilian de Hava.” He spelt the name out and Vidler made a note on the telephone pad. “Ring me up again about three,” he said. “I shall be here some . time.” He replaced the receiver. “Harding, to say that his man Jennings say-s the actress is Lilian de Hava.” “Never heard of her.” The Commissioner spoke for a few minutes on the private telephone. “Come along and let’s have some lunch,” he suggested. “By the time we get back she may have been found. It will only take an hour or so to ring up all the leading agents.” And yvhen the three arrived back they found a typewritten note on the Commissioner’s desk. It read: —- Lilian de Hava, 29 Kenny Mansions, N.W.5. Vidler slipped it into his pocket. “I’ll take one of the cars now, and hay-e a chat with the lady-,” he said grimly-. CHAPTER XXIV. Kenny Mansions, N.W.5, is a block of flats in that halfway district between Kentish town and Parliament Hill Fields, where the genteel and am-

bitious halfway‘‘middle class live. It is a district of mansion flats and old Victorian houses, where the genteel dream of the glories of the past, and the climbers dream of the glories of Hampstead. The air they breathe is purer than that of Kentish Town, but not quite so pure as that provided by the gods of fate for the inhabitants of West Hampstead. Before Vidler left Scotland Yard he had found one or two things about, the dark Lilian, rvhich yvere useful pointers. She played chiefly in melodrama, but had not been acting for the last IS months, though her name was still on the books of the agency which had supplied the Yard with the information. She was in the early thirties, and Lilian de Hava was a stage name. Real name unknown, but the agent was under the impression that she was a married woman. He had further admitted that, of her type, she was a clever actress, yvho might go a long way if she was really determined to get on in her profession. On the whole. reflected the inspector, as he climbed the stairs | 1 to No. 29, his coming interview held ] 5 out prospects of drama in real life. i The door yvas opened by an unexpectedly prim-looking maid, whose appearance was excessively neat and correct, from her stiffly- starched snowwhite cap to her small, highly polished shoes. “Miss Lilian de Hava?” “What name, please?” She took the official card held out by the inspector, and read the name without the slightest sign of astonishment. “If you will wait one moment, sir, I will see if my mistress can see you." “Snubbed, put in your place, and metaphorically squashed,” muttered Vidler to himself, as he was left standing in the tiny hall. “If the mistress is any guide to the maid, I’m in for a good time.” The maid returned. “My mistress will see you in a few minutes, sir. Will y-ou please come this way?” LILIAN DE HAVA. The room he entered was not yvhat he had expected it to be. There was [ none of the furniture in it he imagined, though afterward he had to admit that he did not quite know what ! to expect in the flat of an actress who lived in Kenny Mansions. The walls were covered with a pleasing, soothing grey distemper, relieved only by- half a dozen original black-and-white drawings in neat, narrowbordered black frames.

Vidler took all this in with one rapid survey, and crossed to a small bookcase on the right of the fireplace. He was a great believer that a knowledge of the books people read yvas a key to their characters. It was a case of slim pocket volumes—Kipling, Galsworthy, Welle, Maeterlinck, Anatole France, and the like. There was a total absence of the so-called moderns, of those pseudo-psychological novels which are neither stories nor studies iu psy-chology-. “Healthy-minded, at any- rate,” commented Vidler, selecting the first volume of the .“Forsyte Saga.” “That’s interesting. He had turned to the fly-leaf. In neat handwriting he read “Lilian from C.T.” The date was the previous year. A volume of Kipling had the same inscription with a date three y-ears old. “Foolish habit,” muttered Vidler, as he replaced the attractive leatherbound book. “Inspector Vidler?” The inspector swung around, yvith a slight flush on his face. He prided himself on his acute sense of hearing, hut there had not been a sound of the opening or closing of the door. He turned and bowed mechanically-^ (To be continued tomorrow)