JEWELS OF MALICE

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 1030, 22 July 1930, Page 5

JEWELS OF MALICE

COPYRIGHT

PUBLISHED BY SPKCIAI. ARRANGEMENT

■ 6/

ELLIOT BAILEY

Author of " Thf J%t>ane9<- Parasol 'The Girl «p Velio*- ' ■ Tbf Stiider. - etc., etc.

CHAPTER XXll.—(Continued.) Day and night he evolved schemes for its acquirement and disposal, luxuriating in imagination in the state of affluence it would* bring him, schemes in which Mrs. Rugely held small share, for part of his vision was the freedom from her domination that wealth would gain him. And now like a bolt from the blue had appeared Detective-Sergeant Frank Cosgrove, not only an official from the dreaded Yard, but one who had a personal experience of Sam’s nefarious past. It was cruel luck, Sam considered, their meeting like that, and he cursed Bruce heartily, for he had little doubt that the latter had been instrumental in getting Cosgrove there.

“I wonder who they’ve got an eve on?” he muttered. “Them blokes in the motor-boat, I expect, whoever they may be, and perhaps the cove as got himself caught in my trap. Something fishy about him in my opinion.” Gradually, as he considered the matter, he became calmer. He was no fool, and it occurred to him that if others were being watched he might yet stand to gain by fishing in troubled waters. He would have to be careful, of course, since with his Past he, too, would doubtless be under surveillance. Still, if he could only

convince them that his regeneration was sincere. . . . A copy o£ the Herringford paper on the table attracted his attention. He regarded it at first with lack-lustre eyes, and then an advertisement in heavy type insinuated its message into his brain. He picked up the paper and read the announcement, which dealt with a half-day excursion tp Lon don, the following day. Not much in common with Sam Rugely’s thoughts, one would have said, but it turned them into another channel which presently set him muttering to himself In evident excitement. Presently lie slapped his knee. “I'll do it,” he told himself, “danged if l don’t!” He waited until his wife came bustling into the room, and then he broached what had been simmering in his mind.

“Lizzie,” he said, “I’m going to do a ten-mile walk along the cliffs tomorrow to look for eggs. Be out all day, I shall. Maybe, I'll find more than I’ve been getting round these parts.” His spouse regarded- him with some surprise. To hear Sam calmly undertaking a ten-mile walk was unusual, to say the least. Her reply was tart, nevertheless.

“So I should think,” she exclaimed. “Wonder you haven’t done it before, instead of idling about here.” All the same, she cooked him a supper of more than customary succulence, which Sam accepted unblushingly as his due, discussing between mouthfuls the particular portions of the coast he intended to visit.

But what was actually in his mind was something very different. He intended taking the excursion to London, revisiting the old haunts of Matthew, the fence, and, If that erstwhile crony of his was still existent, endeavouring to arrange for the disposal of a certain valuable necklace — should fortune obligingly place it later on in his possession.

CHAPTER XIII. Next morning saw Bruce once more strolling along the shores of the Inlet before breakfast. “To get an appetite,” he told himself, but had be been entirely honest he would "have admitted that the hope that Nancy Hylton might be doing the same thing was at all events a . contributing reason. He was at any rate conscious of considerable relief and pleasure when he caught sight of her in the distance. “Good morning,” she greeted him. “You and your friend, Mr. Cosgrove, soon ran away after tea yesterday! What mischief were you up to in Herringford?” “None.” he answered. "Cosgrove wanted to do a bit of shopping before dinner, and asked me to stroll back with him.” "I see. So you left me’ to the tender mercies of Basil Courtney!” “Well, you seemed to be getting on with him all right.” The girl pouted. “He bored me stiff,” she said frankly. “Honestly, I can't make the Courtneys out. For two years they haven’t taken the slightest notice of Aunt Emily and myself. Then they suddenlV descend upon us, stay an unconscionable time, and fall ‘all over us’ so to speak. She’s asked me up to tennis tomorrow afternoon, and to dinner next week. And what a vul-

garian the woman is! Guess what she said when she left me?” “Don’t know; what did she say?” “I went with them as far as the garden gate,” the girl continued, “and she shook hands and repeated her dinner invitation. Then, ‘mv dear.’ she told me, “1 shall he having one or two very smart people to dinner that evening, so wear your best jewellery. If you haven’t much, 1 will lend you some of mine.”' "Good Lord!” Bruce exclaimed. “What diil you say?” “Told her rather coldly, of course, that I thought 1 had sufficient. Aud so I have—l’m going to wear the emeralds. They ought to give her a hit of a surprise—the plebian old eat!” Bruce laughed. It crossed his mind that there was a bit of showing in Nancy just then, but he was too politic to say so. “Yes.” he agreed. “That ought to take her down a peg or ttvo.” Thep he changed the subject. “What are you doing this afternoon?” he asked. “Tennis with young Courtney?” “No.” was the demure reply, “that’s not till tomorrow. If you like, I’ll take you for a trip in the launch. It’s going to be another fine day.’’ “Splendid!” Bruce agreed with enthusiasm. “Nothing could be better.” "At two o'clock, then.” “Two o’clock it is,” and in high spirits he returned to the cottage^—to meet Sam Rugely ostensibly setting out on his day’s egg-collecting. Sam regarded him furtively. For one thing it hurt his amour propre that his “lodger” should have learnt about his hectic past, and for another he connected Bruce with Cosgrove and his conscience was not quite clear that morning. But Bruce was in the mood to greet him cheerily and did so, and Sam growled something incoherent in reply. Bruce spent the morning in Herringford with Cosgrove, and in the course of conversation mentioned Lady Courtney’s remark to Nancy about the jewellery. The C.I.D. man’s forehead puckered into a thoughtful frown, but he made no special comment and the subject dropped. Punctually at two o’clock Bruce was at the rendezvous.

He wondered as they glided down the smooth waters of the Inlet what Nancy would have thought if she had known Cosgrove’s true identity, and that he, Bruce, was responsible for getting him there. But tile detective had particularly requested him not to tell her, so that his tongue was tied even if he had considered it politic to do so. Nor had he any intention of unnecessarily alarming her by divulging Sam Rugely’s antecedents. Cosgrove was not exactly communicative at the present juncture, but Bruce had formed the opinion that he had ruled Sam out as a factor of any importance in what had happened. When they passed the bluff near the seaward entrance to the Inlet, Nancy told him how she believed she had been watched before. Bruce eyed the tree-clad promontory carefully, but there was no sign of any lurking figure there today—the bluff was a picture of peace with its green foliage contrasting with the blue sky and bluer rippling water. He remarked as much, and then asked lazily: “Brought the necklace with you?” She nodded. “Yes; it’s in my handbag. Somehow, I’m afraid to leave it in the house. It’s becoming a perfect bugbear.” Bruce stretched out his limbs luxuriously in the sunshine, and watched the girl's slim figure as she held the tiller. “Oh, let’s forget about it for a while,” he murmured. “I don’t fancy it’s going to run us into much trouble this afternoon.” But he would not have spoken so confidently had he realised that they were under observation after all. CHAPTER XIV. They had been on the point of departure when Mr. “Bud” Sayers, late of Chicago, came strolling through

the woods. Mr. Sayers was looking peeved, and the object of his dissatisfaction was Sir Malcolm Courtney. For one thing, Bud had resented strongly his telling-off for firing those shots from the motor-boat.. He had resented still more strongly Courtney’s demand that he should render up his “gun”—a demand, moreover, that the baronet had insisted should be obeyed.

Deprived of that trusty weapon. Bud Sayers felt only half the man he had been. Under Courtney’s domination, too, he was only half the man he had been back in Chicago—until he had made even that tolerant city top hot for him. But Sayers’s mind was running on Chicago now. He was in fact contemplating the possibilities of a return to his ancestral home combined with the possibilities of “double-crossing” Sir Malcolm Courtney.

Suppose, his thoughts ran, he started to work for himself instead of for that stuck-up Britisher. Suppose he got the necklace into his own possession and made a bolt for it to the States? It oughtn't to be difficult, for no one knew that he was in England, and Courtney would not give him away. Bud knew too much about him for that. True, he would have to be careful when he got to Chicago, but the hue and cry for him must have died down by now, and he would take due precautions. The more he contemplated the prospect the more alluring it became, and he was feeling almost good-tempered again when he came suddenly to a halt. Through the trees he could see Nancy and Bruce stepping aboard the launch.

“The girl herself!” he muttered. “Now, is she carrying the jewels?” Like “Slippy” Tlionffcson, he, too, felt it was likely that she might often have them with her, by no means an unnatural assumption having regard to the terms of the will, with which they were all acquainted, and he pondered rapidly whether he could turn the situation to his-own advantage.

To attempt to follow the launch along the inlet, apart fro.li the fact that he would be outdistanced, would be to expose himself, an I after a moment’s thought he commenced to climb the hill that would bring him eventually to an expanse of downland stretching away to the cliff’s edge. He wished he knew which way the launch would turn when it reached the open, sea, but he would have to take his chance of that. He did not meet a soul on his passage through the woods, and just before emerging from their shelter on to the grass he drew from his pocket a blackish beard which he fixed neatly to his chin and settled a pair of dark glasses over his eyes. Then, looking a very different man, he strode on toward the cliff.

As soon as he reached it, after half-an-hour’s hard walking from his starting point, he saw that he was in luck. The launch was almost beneath him, making its way leisurely along the shore. But even now, unless Bruce and Nancy decided to land, there was nothing he could do.

Keeping below the skyline, and only occasionally looking over to mark the boat’s position, he continued along the cliff, and presently saw with satisfaction that his luck continued to be in. The launch was nosing its way shorew'ards into the identical reefstudded little bay where Bruce and Nancy had first met. What their actual reason was for landing there they would have found it difficult to explain. Bruce had murmured something about wanting to see the course among the rocks that she had taken when pursued by the other boat. He did indeed mark with interest the tortuous course she had had to pursue, and marvelled afresh at the skill which had allowed her to negotiate it at such a speed. But deep in their hearts, although they would not have admitted it — least of all to one another —the reason was probably a sentimental one—the desire to revisit together the spot where their acquaintanceship had begun under such unusual and even romantic circumstances. But what-

ever it was, it fitted in admirably with the desires of the watcher on the cliffs, who had hardly dared hope that they would land at all. He watched them climb out of the launch, pull her up a little farther on the sand, and then settle down side by side in the sunshine with theii backs against a rock. They were facing the little cave from which Sam Rugely’s rubicund countenance had regarded them on the previous occasion. Tiiis time no prying eyes took stock of their movements from within it, but from the cliff above a more dangerous adversary than Rugely was taking stock of the situation and perfecting his plans. Sayers found, as Bruce had done, that the only way down to the shore was by the precipitous path some way further, along the cliff. He eyed this with grave disfavour, and no little apprehension, for Bud Sayers was not one to run needless physical risk. But in this case there was no alternative, so he shrugged his shoulders, muttered an anathema, and prepared to make the descent.

Before doing so, however, he gazed round him. He could see the bare downs stretching away in either direction for more than a mile, and there was not another human being in sight. That comforted him. It meant that he could do what he intended to do long before anyone could possibly arrive to interrupt him. Yes, he thought, assuredly his luck was in.

lie had grave doubts on this point, however, before he reached the foot of the cliff. He possessed little of Bruce’s agility, and more than once he almost pitched headlong down the treacherous slope. But he reached the end at length, and paused for a few moments to recover his breath and poise. From his vantage point on the cliffs lie had mapped out his plan of campaign, and it was one that his Chicago upbringing hampered with no scruples. On the chance that he might find the jewels, he was fully prepared to commit a double murder if necessary, for he had none of the average British crook’s aversion from killing. Still, it might not be necessary to kill. That remained to be proved. It had struck him from above that the position in which his prospective victims had seated themselves had brought them almost underneath the overhanging cliff. Once rendered insensible, they had only to be dragged a yard or two to be completely hidden from the cliff top. Then he could search them also at liis # leisure. He could see the back of their heads in the distance, just rising above the top of the rock against which they sat, and presently, w'ith infinite care, he commenced to walk toward them, his eyes gleaming beneath their concealing glasses. He had been bereft of his beloved “gun,” but inside his breast pocket he carried what he looked upon as the next best thing—in fact, under present circumstances, it was a handier weapon than the automatic.

He pulled it out now, and balanced it in his hand—something that, but for its weight, might have been a round office ruler wrapped up in brown paper. It was not an article one would carry about for choice, nor did it improve the set of one’s jacket, but Bud was prepared to undergo a little personal inconvenience when “on the job.” That innocent-looking brown paper parcel had been very useful to him before now. For the paper contained a length of lead tubing! CHAPTER XV. Bruce and Nancy, in the meantime, were basking* quite happily in the sunshine. In recalling the circumstances of their first meeting here they drifted into a quiet, sense of intimacy which bore its own significance. It seemed inconceivable to Bruce that he had only known the girl by his side for a few days, -while she on her part found herself regarding him as an old friend. As yet, however, neither had sought to probe the matter to its depths.

They were startled from their halfsleepy discussion by the rattle of pebbles, and the sound of someone stumbling, and turning sharply, discovered a few j-ards behind them a smallish man carrying a brown paper parcel, whose dark beard and spectacles gave him a foreign appearance which was borne out in his speech. “Excuse,” he exclaimed, spreading out one hand and waving the parcel with the other, “excuse if I alarm you. But I climb down the cliff, and cannot climb up again, and how, please, do I arrive myself at ’Erringford?” The luck of Mr. Bud Sayers had all at once deserted him. With infinite caution and cunning he had crept up unseen and unheard by the pair in front of him. Then, just as he was measuring his distance, after a rapid glance at the cliff top had reassured him that there was no one there, a round stone had rolled beneath his feet, almost throwing him off his balance.

Under the circumstances, his rapid assumption of the role of a distressed foreigner was a creditable effort, and one that, if he had been in his own country, might have been successful. There the American accent underlying his attempt at broken English would have escaped notice. But Bruce’s English ear noted it at once, and a vague suspicion of this man who had stolen up so quietly took possession of him. He rose to his feet and faced him. “You will have to climb the cliff again to get to Herringford,” he said. “The inlet will prevent you continuing along the shore —unless you are prepared for a very long detour.” The foreigner eyed the cliff with a hopeless expression, and edged a little nearer. He had mounted ■

of rock which raised him slightly above Bruce’s level, and was now carrying his parcel by the end instead of the middle. “You have a boat,” he murmured “I wonder —do I intrude myself too much? —if, when you make the departure, I might accompany you to 'Erringford? Yes? No?” “I’m afraid we’re not going to Herringford,” Bruce replied. The man’s persistence annoyed him, for he had little desire for the complete interruption of his tete-a-tete with Nancy

which the fellow's rather cool suggestion involved. “You'll find it much easier to climb back up the cliff than to get* down it,” he continued.

But the other renewed his helpless gesture.

“Already I try—once, twice, monsieur—but I fail —” he began. Then with a sudden movement he flung himself forward, his parcel raised in the air.

Commenced to do so, it would be more correct to say, for the second time —and this at the crucial moment —Bud Sayers’s luck deserted him. On the slab of rock on which he stood was a patch of wet and slimy seaweed. His foot slipped on this, and he skidded violently—finally going over sideways into a pool of water some three feet deep which fringed the rock. His parcel flew from his hand, to fall with a dull thud some distance away.

Bruce picked it up, and for an instant was astonished at its weight. Then he nnderstood. The fall had broken the paper at one end, and the lead piping was protruding. Bud Sayers was now unmasked. Bruce had been puzzled at his gyrations, uncertain whether the fellow had been about to attack him or whether they had all been part of his fall. Now there was no doubt about it, and his jaw hardened ominously as he started forward toward the pool.

The pride of Chicago had been completely submerged, and as he scrambled with much spluttering to his feet, it was minus his beard, which had been washed off by the water. In a trice he was over the edge of the pool and running for dear life, with the indignant Bruce in full pursuit.

And then that fickle jade, Luck, transferred her allegiance once more. There was little doubt that Bruce would have caught him, and that he would have fared ill at his hands, but although the latter avoided the seaweed on which his would-be assailant had come to grief, the rock was nowwet and slippery from the splashing caused by Bud's submersion. Bruce in his turn slipped and fell, and although he was on his feet again in

an instant, it was only to subside with an exclamation of pain. Nancy hurried anxiously toward him. She, too. had been puzzled over what had happened. but now had more than an inkling of the truth. “Confound it,” he told her, “my ankle's gone, and now he'll get away:” Together they watched the American dash to' the cliff path, and ascend it at a speed which gave the lie most effectually to his statement that he was unable to climb it. Bruce handed Nancy the deadly parcel, and rapidlv and correctly sketched the situation. The girl dazed after the fleeing man with loathing. “Oh." she breathed, “arud I left my pistol at home, if we had it we might have winged him.” “I most certainly would have done so,” Bruce said grimly. “As it is—he’s off! Oh. well, it might have been worse.” “Shall I follow him to the top of the cliff and see which way he goes?” Nancy asked, but Bruce shook his head. “He'll make for the woods, of course, and after that may go—anywhere. It would do no good. No, help me get this shoe off —the foot's swelling, I'm afraid.” There was no doubt of that, and Nancy bathed it in the pool and bandaged it with Bruce's handkerchief. Then, leaning on her shoulder, he contrived to hop on one leg to the launch, carrying with him the damning evidence of the wrapped-up tubing and the beard which they ha 1 retrieved from the pool—by which time Bud Sayers had long ago disappeared from sight.

(To be continued Tomorrow.)