The Mystery of Ryeburn Manor

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 910, 1 March 1930, Page 22

The Mystery of Ryeburn Manor

By

JOHN LAURENCE

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

CHAPTER XXIV.— (Continued.) “I must apologise for looking at your bookshelf, but I am a great reader,” he said easily. “I must apologise, too, for calling on you rather unexpectedly, Miss de Hava, but my business is urgent. He found himself looking into a pair* of brown eyes which had a twinkle of amusement in them. She waved a slim hand toward one of the chairs, and sank down gracefully on the settee, where her small figure seemed lost in the amplitude of cushions. “Won’t you sit down, inspector? I expected you to call yesterday or the day before. Please smoke if you wish -—there are cigarettes in that box there.” Vidler' carefully selected a cigarette from the silver box. He noticed the lid bore the inscription, “L. de H., from C.T.” His bra|n was working rapidly. So she had expected him to call before! He rubbed his eyelid vigorously, and then -looked across with a pleasant smile. “So you have been waiting for me to call. Really, a woman’s processes of reasoning are beyond us poor men. Until half-past two today I had never heard your name. Miss de Hava.” “And it’s, now only ten minutes past three,” she said laughing. “I wish all men were as delightfully quick as you are, inspector. You make me almost afraid.” VIDLER MEETS HIS MATCH. He had a feeling that she was laughing at him. Vidler began to enjoy himself. So many of the people whom he had to interview were so obviously either eager to tell him what they knew, or to be obstinate and keep their mouths shut tight, that it was a refreshing change to meet someone who was meeting him on his own ground. He must learn what Thornton had told her to tell the police —if they found her. Vidler knew It would be a mistake in tactics to let her know that Thornton had deliberately lied about his movements on the night of the murder. “Mr. Thornton did not tell me your name,” he said. “I think he was under the impression that he was being chivalrous. It has taken us a few days to find out.” “Charles is a fool.ish man. As though you could fail to find out anything you wanted to, inspector.”

Again. Vidler had that feeling she was laughing at him, but he betrayed no sign of what he was thinking. “X wish we were as omniscient as all that, Miss de Hava. There would be no need for alibis, then, for everybody would be caught. I thought Mr Thornton was foolish, too, but what can you do with a man who is in love ?” She laughed openly. “The age of chivalry is dead, and the age of love is passing,” she said. “Once Charles was in love with me. Now he is distinctly not. Xle did not tell you my name, Mr. Vidler, because he did not want his own reputation to suffer. X suspect there is another lady in the case. Men are funny creatures. They think they can form liaison after liaison without we poor women ever guessing.” Her utter candour nonplussed Vidler. Lilian de Hava showed no signs of being grief-stricken or jealous, or even a little bit hurt by the fact that Thornton should not still be in love with her. He could only conclude that the woman who looked the embodiment of gentle womanhood was inwardly as hard as iron, cold as ice—a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. And Vidler was to discover afterward that his summing up of Lilian de Hava’s character was very near the mark. “Mr. Thornton was—er —a close friend of yours. Miss de Hava?” “He has been my lover for the last three years,” she said frankly. “In this unconventional age we may as well admit the truth, don’t you think?” “People are not so conventional as some would have us believe,” returned Vidler. “Charles is conventional to the core,” she pointed out. “That is why he would not tell you my name, would not tell you he spent the evening in company with an actress. Secretaries musn’t have liaisons or their employers get uneasy about where the money is coming from. Employers know these things cost money—unless a woman is in love.”

Vidler lighted a fresh cigarette. He had learnt one thing—that Thornton was in her company some time during the evening. The question was, how long? Times might be important. Simmonds had been murdered some time between a quarter to and a quarter past ten. If Thornton was in Kenny Mansions at ten o’clock he was certainly incapable of being in Kensington at a quarter to. “What time did Mr. Thornton leave you that night?” he asked. "Between half-past eleven and twelve,” she answered readily. “1 couldn’t say exactly. We went to the Coliseum together and he brought me home, but would not come in.” “I suppose he called for you?” he “Oh dear no. He had too much work tq do that night, so we arranged to meet outside the Coliseum at twenty minutes to eight. It starts at a quarter to. We were just in time.” Her story was consistent with Thornton’s statement that he had dined at seven at his usual restaurant. If he had not lingered over his meal it -would just give him time to get to the music-hall. If-she were telling the truth, Thornton’s alibi was complete and perfect. But Vidler had had to investigate too many carefully prepared alibis to admit this was sound just on the statement made to him. Thornton had already been caught out lying, and the detective hadn’t the slightest doubt that Lilian de Hava would break away from the truth if it suited her. Jennings had been to the Coliseum that night, and the inspector had already made a few inquiries to verify Jennings’s story. His inquiries had, as yet. not been directed to Jennings himself. Instead. they had been made to the stage manager, and as a result he held a card which he knew was a trump.

“I understand you were on the legitimate stage, Miss de Hava,” he said. "Do you find it interesting watching other people act?” “Most interesting, Mr. Vidler. People are much more interesting than things, especially people on the . stage. It is very amusing to watch someone playing a girlish, innocent part on the stage and to know that in private life she has already been divorced by three husbands and is contemplating leaving her fourth.” “There was a new star at the Coliseum—that week—Miss—Miss—dear me, I’ve forgotten her name.” “Miss Rosa Villamel, I think you mean. A character actress,” she

helped him. “That’s right. A friend of mine who was there said she acted men’s parts—Bill Sykes, Scrooge, Shylock, and one or two others, in a perfectly marvellous fashion. I must go and see her. It is unusual for a woman to play men’s characters.” “She was good; above the average,” admitted the other. “Would you care for an early cup of tea? I always have one just now. Jessie is only waiting for me to ring.” Vidler murmured his thanks as he continued- to talk about various celebrities of the stage. Not by the flicker of an eyelid did he betray the fact that he had learnt that this woman who had chatted with such ease and self-assurance as she poured out the tea was lying. THE ALIBI COLLAPSES Vidler had spent a profitable halfhour with the stage manager of the Coliseum going through all the turns on the night of the murder, learning exactly what they did, what songs they sang, what jokes they cracked. It had all been with a view to checking Jennings’s alibi, in exactly the same way that he was now checking Thornton’s, it was a bit of sheer luck, he reflected as he sipped his tea, that the Coliseum had been chosen in this case as well.

Foy Vidler had learnt all about the character actress Rosa Villamel. Her name had been in the programme, had appeared on the posters, was starred on the outside of that building, but that night she had been taken suddenly ill and had not been able to appear. If Lilian de Hava and Thornton bad seen her, then they had done so previously and not the night of the murder.

CHAPTER XXV. In short, reflected Vidler, Thornton’s alibi was collapsing rapidly. It was a piquant situation, as it appeared to him; two women, neither of whom was in love with Thornton, doing their best to prevent Scotland Yard from suspecting he had any connection with the death of Simmonds. As neither was in love with Lee’s secretary, it was puzzling to find a motive for thenactions. He had little doubt that behind that of the actress was money. She was not going to iose without a struggle the obvious comfort' Thornton had brought her. The only motive which Vidler could suggest in Sheila Sunderland’s case was that, once having been in love with the man, site was reluctant to give him away, a motive which did not appear to him to be adequate. Although he sat and talked for another half an hour, he gained nothing further. Lilian de Hava had readily admitted her relationship with Thornton, and given him a cool hint that she had no intention of allowing it to be broken off without suitable compensation. That supplied the detective with a motive for Thornton’s attempt to get the pearls, and when he left Kenny Mansions it was with the feeling that in the last three hours the net had been drawn perceptibly tighter round Lee’s secretary. JENNINGS HELPS It was close on half-past four when the inspector once more entered the Commissioner’s room. Sir Arthur had just returned from a conference. “You look cheerful, D.V.,” he smiled. “I’ll get Markham here, Harding phoned up shortly after three, and I promised you’d ’phone him when you eame back.” “I’ll do it at once,” said the inspector. “I want him and his man Jennings to come along. No, I don’t suspect them,” he laughed as the Commissioner opened his mouth to frame a question. “They might be useful, that’s all.” He was in the act of replacing the receiver when Markham arrived. “We thought you were stopping the night, D.V.,” he said cheerfully. “Had tea. of course.”

“And I’m going to have another with you two while I’ve got the chance,” replied the inspector, eyeing the tea things which were being brought in. “I’m beginning to see why you are so fat, John. You do yourself well. I never get cake and jam and petit fours for tea.” “It’s the Commissioner’s birthday,” boomed Markham genially. “What did the fair Lilian give you?” “A cup of early weak China tea. which looked like rfiilk and water and tasted of cheap tobacco,” replied Vidler, who had a strong dislike to China tea. “She also knocked the bottom out of Thornton’s alibi.” “Good,” said Markham, stroking his beard. “I thought Thornton was our man.” “What’s the idea of getting Harding and Jennings here, D.V.?” asked Markham. “They’re downstairs waiting.” “First of all we may as well test Jennings’s Coliseum alibi, and if it’s 0.-K., I propose to make use of them both unofficially. They can do things we can’t I’ve wiped Harding off the list of suspects. Get them up, and for heaven’s sake keep your voice down, Markham.”

Jennings was obviously scared stiff at finding himself in the presence of three of the chiefs of the Yard. He sat nervously on tile edge of a chair, his bowler hat balanced precariously on his knees, his eyes blinking rapidly from one to another, and occasionally looking apprehensively at the door as though he expected a squad of police to march in without warning. Vidler opened the conversation. “I heard from Mr. Harding this morning, Jennings, that you’d been doing some good work. The information you obtained about Mr. Thornton’s actress friend has proved to be very useful —most useful, I might say.” “I’m sure I'm very pleased to ’ave been of any help, Mr. Vidler.”. replied Jennings, licking his lips. “I always

believe in keeping on the right side of the police.” “I have had a talk with Miss de Hava,” continued the - inspector, smoothly. “Curiously enough, she went to the Coliseum the same night as you did, Jennings, to see an acquaintance of hers, a Miss Rcsa Villamel, do some character sketches.” She must have been disappointed, sir,” said Jennings, without any hesitation. “I was, if I may say so, seeing as how she was a new star on the boards and the newspapers made a big song about her. She was took ill suddenly and they put on an extra turn, a pair of cross-talkers.” The superintendent nodded almost imperceptibly as he caught Vidler’s eye. Jennings had clearly been exactly where he had said. “The point about Miss Rosa Viliamel was this, Jennings,” continued the inspector. “Though she did not appear on the stage that evening, Miss de Hava says she saw her. It seems to me that she wasn’t at the Coliseum that night at all. We want to find out where she was, because she says both she and Mr. Thornton were out together.” Jennings’s bowler rolled off bis knees and he made a frantic grab at it. “Sorry, sir,” he apologised, as he retrieved it. “You mean as ’ow if Mr. Thornton wasn’t at the Coliseum with his lady he might ’ave been somewhere else?” BACK TO RYEBURN MANOR

“Exactly, Jennings. You were so successful with the servant where Mr. Thornton lives that Mr. Harding suggested over the telephone to me you might like to try your hand with Miss de Hava’s maid. Her Christian name is Jessie. The address is 29 Kenny Mansions, Kenny Road, N.W.5.” “I will do what I can to 'elp, Mr. Vidler.” “Then get down to it now, Jennings,” said his master. “If I’m npt at home tonight, telephone me at Winchelsea.” “If you get any news come and report, Jennings. Ask for me,” said the inspector. “He came in looking around for handcuffs,” snorted the Superintendent when Jennings had gone. “And went out like a puffed-up bullfrog, bursting with importance. He struck me as Uriah Heep to the life. Very 'umble when it suits his book. Sorry to be rude about him, Harding.” "Be as rude as you like,” said Harding pleasantly. "I employ him as a valet, not a private noser-out of news. As a valet he is good and that’s all I care about. I like the way you took my name in vain. D.V.” “All in a good cause, Harding. I’ve got a job for you. I want you to go back to Ryeburn Manor and keep an eye on Thornton.' I’ll keep in touch with you.” “Then I’d better be going,” said Harding, promptly. “If I clear off now I can get down there before dark.”

Night was approaching rapidly, in fact, when he landed in the field near s Ryeburn Manor and pegged down his ; machine. i “Thought you weren’t coming back,” s Lee, who had walked across the field . when he saw the airplane, greeted him. - “Where’s Vidler?” ■ "Staying in town for the night.” i “Has he found out anything?” > Thornton’s alibi has broken down,” ’ explained Harding, who had been - given no warning by the inspector not • to tell - Lee what had been happening. I Briefly he explained the discoveries of i Jennings and Vidler as they walked * slowly back to the house. !• “So that’s why he’s always hard up - and always wanting tips,” growled ’ Lee. “If Vidler doesn’t come down to- ! morrow I’ll have to sack him. I can’t ! have a secretary I can’t trust.” “You’re in a difficult position,” agreed ■ Harding. “But I think it would be ■ fatal to show any suspicion at the ’ present moment. D.V. knows what ■ he’s doing. He’s only staying his hand ; until he can prove his case without 1 the least shadow of doubt.” Lee shrugged his shoulders and ' spread out his puffy fingers in a deris- ; ive gesture. “There’s a limit to a man’s patience,” he said in sharp tones. “And the ; sooner Thornton’s out of my way the better.” Harding rather dreaded the next few hours, for it seemed to him that in Lee’s present mood the merchant would be bound to betray himself, and then most decidedly the fat would be in the Are. To his relief, however, at dinner his host appeared to he in a most genial mood as though he had not a care In the world. Thornton himself, too, seemed to have lost some of his gloom and joined freely in conversation. Only once did Harding notice a change of expression on thd secretary’s face, and that was when Sheila suggested to Harding a walk in the direction of Camber Castle, an invitation he promptly accepted. Thornton glowered, but made some polite remark when he caught Harding looking at him. Harding was full of spirits as he and Sheila crossed the bridge over the canal. It' was the first time that Sheila had shown any definite wish for his company, and he was, as a result, prepared to stroll in the moonlight with her all night. “I am afraid that you must have thpught me awfully rude at times, Mr. Harding,” she said, as they left the tiny town behind them. “You have been worried, Miss Sunderland, that’s all,” he answered, sympathetically. “And hard words break no bones.” "No, but they can break hearts.” He glanced at her, but she was looking straight ahead over the moonlit marshes. Her words had a sentimental ring about them which moved him deeply, but, save for the naturally soft curves of her mouth, Sheila Sunderland’s expression was not one of sentiment. It was rather set, as though she had made up her mind to some course of action and was keeping up her courage to go through with it. "I hope no words of mine will brsutk your heart,” he said slowly. The words seemed foreign to him as he spoke them. Sentiment, pretty phrases, and “soft nothings” were strange to Harding, but he was being stirred by the girl by his side, and he found himself floundering, rather helpless, wondering what to do and say. He had seen her flare up so unexpectedly that he was half afraid of saying anything now which would disturb the delight he was finding in her companionship. Sheila half turned toward Harding and smiled. “That’s a very conventional remark,

isn't it, Mr. Harding? I hardly expected it from you.” She was looking Tery beautiful and something in his gaze must have warned her of the surge of emotions which was sweeping over him. Her blue eyes were quickly veiled by their long lashes and a slight flush mantled the cream of her Skin. "I didn’t mean it to be conventional, Miss Sunderland. I am afraid I am a poor hand at paying compliments. I just meant what I said. I don't want to hurt you, that is all. I want to protect you. You have seemed so lonely to me sometimes.” ”1 am lonely, Mr. Harding. My mother and father are both dead, and I was an only child. I haven’t even any near cousins.” “Well, won’t you let me help you ” he asked eagerly. “Won’t you tell me all that is. worrying you? To have no one ja the world to whom you can talk must be a dreadful thing.” “It isn’t always easy, Mr. Harding, to tell even a person one can trust —- everything. Sometimes that might mean breaking a confidence. Tell me, first, have you got my poor little pearl?” He nodded, and took the box out of his pocket. *“I have carried it about ever since I found it,” he explained. “Do you know it is extremely valuable?” Sheila missed a step, and his hand rested for a moment on her soft arm to steady her. “Valuable?” she said slowly. “Who told you that, Mr. Harding?” Harding cast about in his mind for a reply to her question He could not admit that at one time he had suspected her of stealing Mrs. Lee’s pearls, that he had taken the pearl to a jeweller’s to find out whether it was valuable or not. And m yet be choked at telling her a deliberate lie.

"I thought it might be,” he replied. “And I did not want to damage it by carrying it unprotected. I know nothing about pearls, nothing at all. I asked a jeweller if he would put it in a box, and it was when he was doing so that he told me it was worth least £IOO. That is why I was so surprised when you told me it was part of a cheap necklace belonging to your grandmother. If the rest of the string ” “No, no, there must be some mistake, Mr. Harding. I am sure there must be some mistake. It may—may just have been this one pearl.” “I thought that, too,” lie continued, “and asked the jeweller if a really valuable pearl could have been strung with a number of poor ones, and he was positive it couldn’t. If I were you I should take them to him. You may be nursing a fortune unawares.” “ME. THORNTON DID NOT MURDER SIMMONDS” He did not see the look on her face as he made his suggestion, did not see the tightening of her lips. Nor did she betray herself when she spoke. “I must follow your advice, Mr. Harding. Have you told anybody about it?” (To be continued on Monday.)