UNDER The SHADOW

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 1070, 6 September 1930, Page 23

UNDER The SHADOW

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Elizabeth York Miller.

CHAPTER XX. He was a man of about 50, or thereabouts, with a thin dark face which had a scar at the left of the chin, sharply furtive eyes and a small moustache slightly tinged with grey. There was also a little grey in his hair.

He was neat about his person with a sort of affected dandyism that led to a youthful selection of ties and socks, but very untidy in his rooms. Although it was only ten o’clock in the morning, he had already consumed a dozen cigarettes and the ashes of these littered the floor. The stumps were hurled at the emhty fireplace. Half a dozen newspapers lay scattered about. Major Wallace devoured innumerable newspapers and cigarettes. In view of the general fever of betting which had swept the country it was boi held particularly against him that he was constantly on the telephone to his .bookmaker, and in the house his lacing tips were received with respect. More often than not they came off. rhat was one reason why Mr. Rimple had not turned him out, or insisted u P° n being paid the rent and food arrears. The ex-butler had never had such a successful season when it vame to horse-racing. All the same, he * as Slowing a little uneasy about his money.

Major Wallace lived almost too secluded a, life for a man of his pretensions. During the whole five jveeks he had been in Ebury Street he had had but one caller, and that 'vas a woman. He received very few letters, and he was always in to meals. In Rimple’s experience there were gentlemen who cared to eat *lone. If Major Wallace belonged to any clubs, he did not frequent them to any extent. Indeed, he scarcely ever went out except for a short stroll each evening with the Rimple dog, a huffy little Pomeranian to which lie bad taken a great fancy. Occasionally Dora Rimple, to whom Perky belonged, allowed Major Wallace to [ake her pet for a ride on top of a bus. She herself had little time to s Pare for outings. As Major Wallace sat in his silk nowered dressing-gown, surrounded by J- sea of cigarette ash and newspapers, Dora came in to take away the remains of his belated breakfast, and inquired if he had any tips for to* ? a '_ 8 events. She also presented her ather’s overdue cheque, across the bottom of which was written, “A ta ©que would respectfully oblige.” To the young woman’s surprise. Major Wallace opened the bill, frowned as he read the postscript, and fhen taking some notes from a letter case, paid the account in full.

Author of “ Conscience,” “ Carry On,” “ Tke Brass Box,” etc., etc.

No. he had no tips for her, he said. She thought he was angry about the hill, and below stairs commented to her father upon the major’s surliness. Scarcely had she departed when he went into the bedrom adjoining, and after deliberating a moment crossed to the washing-stand, lathered his face and shaved off his moustache. This operation was just completed when Mr. Rimple entered the sitting-room with the receipted account. The major called out to bim to leave it on the table, and would not show himself to receive Mr. Rimple’s apologies. "I’m dressing to go out,” he shouted.

"Will you be back for lunch, sir?” Mr. Rimple asked humbly. “Oh, yes, yes; just going around to see how my house is getting on. I shall probably be leaving you before long, Rimple.” "Sorry, indeed, sir!” murmured Mr. Rimple, as he retreated. There was little doubt but that he had offended Major Wallace. However, a landlord must live, and it isn't done by letting bills run for ever.

By this time Major Wallace was thoroughly unnerved. For one moment he had feared that Rimple was coming straight into his bedroom. He took off his dressing-gown and put on the least conspicuous suit he possessed, one of grey tweed with strong black lines running down it. With this went a soft felt hat pulled well over bis eyes. “God knows what I’m going to do,” he muttered. “Of all the devil’s luck!”

He returned to the sitting-room and possessed himself of the letter-case from which he had paid Mr. Rimple. and which was filled to bursting with bank notes. Then waiting until the way was clear, he slipped downstairs and out into the street.

He had walked more than block, turned the corner into Elizabeth Street, and was about to hail a cab when he discovered that he was being followed —not by what he dreaded most, but by something nearly as troublesome. By. Perky, in fact, Dora Rimple’s little dog. ; Perky was in the cab before he was, and to oust and abandon her in the i street would make him more conspicu ous than he cared to be. So they drove i off together. "Major Wallace” and the j dog. j "Dad! Book at this! Oh, my goodness!” Dora Rimple, for all that she was j a strong, robust girl, seemed on the verge of collapse. I Major Wallace had not returned to

his lunch, after all, and it was now nearly six o’clock. Dora, more than uneasy at her little dog being kept out so long, had gone up to set right the major's untidy sitting room, and there she had been struck by the latest murder mystery, as set.'forth in that early edition of an evening paper.

Mr. David Lennox, of Temple Chambers, admitted that he had been with the murdered man at six o'clock, but says he left the building about half an hour later. H; claims that as he was leaving a man was in the outside corridor and walked directly toward Sir Lionel’s suite of offices. He noticed the man particularly as he was carrying a brown Pomeranian dog. According to Mr. Lennox, he was a tall thin man with a moustache, and dressed in a checked suit.. The inquiry into the death of Sit Lionel Hurst is set for Friday it! order to give time to collect imoprtant evidence.

It is believed that the identity of the man described by Mr. Lennox is known to the police.

Yesterday afternoon Major Wallace had sallied forth with Perky, and when he returned for a very late dinner, ex plained that they had gone for a bus ride into the city and been forced by the storm to seek shelter in an underground station until it was over. Mr. Rimple was nearly as overcome as his daughter. "I must go around to the police station,” he said. “I don’t like it, but it’s my plain duty.” “But w-here is Perky now?” Dora wailed. "Ah, my poor, poor little dar ling!” “He’s probhbly killed her," said Mr Rimple. grimly. “Them that can do murder wouldn’t stick at putting a poor little dog out of the way." Which, as it happened, was what 'Major Wallace” had not dene. It was a small matter, but had farreaching consequences.

CHAPTER XXL The man who had called himself Major Wallace in the Ebury Street lodging house, was too clever to give the taxi-cab driver the address to which he wished actually to go. Ho got himself set down at the corner of Grove Road, Maida Vale, and with the dog at his heels walked the rest of the distance. True, he had shaved off his moustache, and today was clad in stripes instead of checks, but the little brown dog made him feel conspicuous, and he would have given much to be rid of her.

He said harsh * things under his breath at the way late had treated him, not only in this instance, but in all that had gone before. During his career he had been iu trouble many times, but never anything like this.

The papers said that the police had a clue as to his identity. They hat! not one, but many clues. If needed but the positive identification of that angry young man he had met coming out of Hurst's office to put the rope around his neck. He was a hunted man. But if they didn’t catch him. that David Lennox might be in a bit of a fix. Who was to prove that Lennox hadn’t waited about until afterwards? The major walked as rapidly as w-as consistent with his present role, that of an inhabitant of the neighbour hood out for a stroll with his dog. Then, finding himself opposite a certain block of flats, he turned in and mounted to the third floor, fortunately meeting nobody. There was no immediate response to his ring, so he tried the knocker. Then he leaned down, pushed back the flap of the letter box and called out huskily, “Olive —if you’re there, for God's sake let me in!”

A rustle rewarded his appeal, a shadow appeared against the glass of the door, and it was thrown open. He was fairly pulled into the flat, and the door all hut caught Perky's fluff}’ tail. "What can you mean by coming here, you fool!” the woman hissed.

Then noticing his shaven lip she laughed hysterically. “What a disguise!”

But her expression hardened instantly and she turned and hurried on ahead of him to the box of a diningroom at the back. Going to the buffet she poured some whisky into a glass and drank it off without any water. She was shaking all oyer and the glass rattled against her teeth. “I’d like a bit of that, myself,” said the man. “Gad, I do feel silly this morning. Whefe’s Adeia?” “Gone down to that hole of hers in the country. I’m thankful to say. f'm here quite alone. So you told Lionel Hurst that l was your’ wife—you swine!”

The man set down his glass in astonishment. “How did you know? I didn’t tell him, as a matter of fact. Somebody sent him an anonymous letter saying that Wallis Legree, the chap he’d treated so badly, was your real husband. He wrote asking me to call, and taxed me with it.”

“And he gave you money, I suppose, for the priceless information,” she put in bitterly.

“Only about a hundred pounds, and God knows I needed the money. But how did you know?”

“I—l guessed it. What dicl you shoot him for?” The man, whose real name was Wallis Legree, winced under her burning glance. “I didn’t, Olive. I swear I didn’t.” He sank limply into a chair, gathered Perky into his arms and began to snivel like a schoolboy. “Tell that to the police,” she said, indifferently. “Olive, you're not going -to give me away. Are you? For years I’ve set myself aside and played your game. What’s the result? I’m a ruined man. You needed money and still more money. You knew crooked things I’d done, and you threatened me. But 1 never threatened you, even when you ran off with another man and actually married him. I sat tight through it all. I watched you bleeding everybody who came your way. You finished off Westmore. You got money out of Hurst and lost every penny of it on the tables, I’ll warrant. . . . Then you came to me for more money. There was only one way I could get it for you. I’d got a good job as Hurst’s trainer, and I played it low down on him. Only it didn’t come off. And now, if I showed myself on any racecourse in England, I’d be booted off. Ail through you.” “This is very touching,” Olive said, sarcastically. “Have another drink.” She, herself, had another one, but the man was sobbing, now, and did not move. The little dog whined and licked his hands.

“Ruined! And 1 began life an honest lad, if ever there w-as one.”

“And now you're wanted for murder. Serve you riglit for spoiling ray

game. 1 could have got thousands out of Hurst but for you. He would have paid anything to keep it from that girl that I was her step-mother.” “How could he? You can’t blackmail the dead,” Wallis Legree said, stupidly. Then he began to snivel again, recounting all the injustices he had suffered. “Before God, I’m innocent, Olive. Why, Hurst and I had a. really’ pleasant chat. I told him 1 was down and out. Hadn’t been able to pay my landlord for three weeks. I sent you nearly every penny I made on the gee-gees. Hurst even said he’d help me to get another job somewhere.” “So you're Innocent.” Olive Gilder mused. “You've acted like an iunoceut man, haven’t you? You’re acting like one now.”

“What can T do? Everything’s against me. The police wouldn't believe me ” “I should think not.” “But I haven’t had a revolver for ages—” “Oh, yes, you have.”

“No. it disappeared when we left Cannes that time. Don’t you remember?” “I'm afraid 1 don’t,” she said sharply. “Tell me what you are going to do.” “I don’t know. 1 thought perhaps—” “You can’t stay here,” she inter"SAVAUE" HEALTH MOTORS (as used by Mabel in “Gold Diggers”) for home massage and increased vitality. Free Demonstration Ring 44-600. Domestic Vacuum and Radio Co., Queen Street (opp. Civic).—2.

rupted. “Adela may come back—and anyway I don’t want you here. Why don’t you make for the Continent?” “It’s too risky.” “America?” “You have to have a passport to get anywhere these days.” “Well, go where you please—but you can’t stay here.” “Could I leave the dog?” Very likely she assumed that Perky belonged to hint. “I don’t mind,” she said dubiously. “Yes, if you like. The creature would be company for me while Adela is away.”

It was the one grain of kindness she had shown toward him.

“Thank you. Olive. 1 wonder if I'll ever see you again.”

“Not if I can help it,” she replied coldly. He did not argue the point or plead anything, ror did he add to his reproaches. “Well, it’s good-bye, then. They may get me, you know.” “For your sake I hope not —since you say you are innocent.” “Before God, I am—”

“Oh, enough of that! By staying here you’re making it dangerous for me as well as for yourself. For pity's sake, go.”

She picked up the dog, which whined and struggled to follow him. “Hurry up. I shan’t be able to hold the beast.” So the hunted man went out into the streets again, and although he felt less conspicuous without Perky, he also felt lonelier.

There might be trouble about that little dog. He ought to have told Olive that Perky didn't belong to hint, but it was too lute now. She woulda I

thank him for running the risk of coming back. Wallis Legree, alias Major Wallace, would have received a shock, and an entirely new light on his own distressing plight, could he have been able to see what was going on in the office where Lionel Hurst met his death. As he himself was breaking cover in this game of human hare and hounds, one of the hounds—to wit, Detective-Inspector Chator—knelt on the blue velvet carpet near Hurst’s desk. Before bim was a wastepaper basket, with its contents tuned on the floor. In one hand he held a powerful reading glass, and in the other two halves of a torn cheque. “Pay to the order of Miss O. Gilder, the sum of ten thousand . . ” Chator, who verged upon the stout, got up with a little difficulty. Going to the door, he called out “Mr. Curtis ! ’’ (To be Continued on Monday.)