THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 115, 12 June 1909, Page 3

THE STORYTELLER.

THE SILVER LOCK. SEXTOX BLAKE*SOLVES A THEATRICAL RIDDLE. I. They had left the chauffeur to wrcstls with a leaking tyre, aad were walking up the hard-lrozen road side b,v side. Arthur Craven looked oddly out oi pla'.-e in his fur-triimucd overcoat, glossy tall Hat, and patent-leather boots. Sexton Blake, on the contrary, wore a kuickeruoeker suit of rough Harris tweed, a cap, aad a pair oi thick-soled booia. Craven, lessee and manager of the Sceptre Theatre, was white and anxious, lie Kept pulling nervously at his moustache. Blake's .keen eyes looked straight .ui.'ttd. He was thinking.

It was exactly aine o'clock in the morning. Three hours before, Sexton Make had been roused from his sleep by a violent knocking and ringing. The early visitor was Arthur Craven. The manager himself had been wakened hy the insistent ringing of th« telephone at his bedside, 'the message was Horn tne sergeant of pojce at Little Tophaui, and when he grasped its fatal signilii.b the manager almost fainted.

Tlic day was Friday.' On Monday evening his new play, which promised to 1m; the succe* and sensation of the theatrical season, was to be produced. The most popular dramatist of the day had written it, and Denver Morland, the idol of boxes, stalls, and gallery alike, had been engaged to play the part of hero; and that in itself was enough to spell success. The telephone message had fallen like a thunderbolt. Whether Denver Morland was alive or dead. Craven did not know; but -the actor had been found lying on the lawn of his bungalow, ha.fdressed,' unconscious, and almost frozen. The local policeman, suspicious at seeing a light in the dining-room of the bungalow at such an early hour, had made the discovery. These, with one addition were the scanty facts that had been told over the wire. John Steel, who had understudied Mortand so brilliantly, and who was to act the character when th* first touring company was formed, had •"nanpeared. Steel and Morland were gr-*t friends! you tell me!" said Blake, breakinC m \rUke en f at,,er and «. £ Btofce. Steel is bound to make a tag name, and Morland always ■*»■** took the youngster up The lad is a born genius, and Morland believes in him so thoroughly that he offered to bet me a hundred pounds to ? «,.(■ if Steel went on nstcad of himdVLdplayd through the whole four acts' not I soul in the house, from, newsto gallery-boy, would.be a ! have pluck euough to von," said Craven desperately. 1 well don't lose hope, Craven! Morland wa 8 very fond of being out here in the country, I believe? "A great deal too fond of it, and this is the result," said the manager. He ltked the quiet. Steel is a bit o a Ssman, and Morland rented the shooting for him." , Thev reached the top of the hiu. A few curious villagers were peering over hi hedge, and a dog-cart stood at the • bate of the bungalow, toning against the eate, proudly conscious of his importance was the village; constable. Sir Craven raised his hat to a tall Chaired woman, whose tearful eyes Tu&enly brightened with and hope as they rested on the bronzed, strong face of Sexton Blake. "Is he still unconsaous, Mrs. Mor"Yes still unconscious. The doctor ;s with (him. I need not ask who this is, Mr Craven," she added, holding out her hand of te detective. "We have met before. Do not make a noise. My poor toov is in here!" . .. Craven stood back as she gently opened the door. Sexton Blake stepped silently into the darkened room, and bent over the still form of Denver Morland.

n. Where was John Steel? Putting the problem of Steel's absenSe aside, it was obviously a case of attempted burg.ary. The constable had told all he knew. Morland lav stunned on the grass, wearine only trousers, shirt, and slippers. The French window of the dining-room was open. The ground, being like adamant, after three black frosts, revealed no signs of the struggle. Nor had any of the doors' or windows been tampered with. Alarmed by some unusual noise, Morland must have left his bed. There was a telephone in the bungalow. Arthur Craven, paler than ever, rang up the Sceptre Theatre. Steel had not called there. A messenger in a cao was sent to his mother's house. Pr-i-Mntly the bell rang. Craven turned his haggard face towards Sexton Blake. Steel had not been home either. "You have implicit confidence in th» young fellow, Mrs. Morland?" ask?d Sexton Blake. "I love him almost as much as/IJove Denver, my own son, Mr. Blake. Surely," she added,-with a horrified gasp, "you don't—" "No, no! Mr. Steel went out yesterday after lunch with his gun and retriever. He did not say where he was going. Has he done such a thing beforo. and not returned?" "If he had not, I should be more broken-hearted than I am aow. I should imagine that he had met with an accident. That was my first dread; but the dog Bruce would have returned. Poor Denver had been thinking about the play too much,' and that made him sleepless. As Mr. Craven knows, Sir Claud Minter was treating him for insomnia. Denver had used all the medicine, and " i "I quite understand,"" said the detective, turning over the pages of the ra'li way guide. "My point is this—has Mr. Steel ever stayed away a night without telling you?" '(Never!" "And if he took a fit vato his head to run up tcT London and catch the tenthirty home to Little Topham, who would let him in, supposing he had forgotten his' key?" "He would tap on Denver's window or mine," answered Mrs. Morland wearily. "As you know, he is nearly as dear to mc as my own son." "I am sorry to worry you so much," Said the detective; "but Mr. Steel did forget hit key, for I found it on his dressing-table. I will trouble you as

little more as I possibly can, madam. 'You think that Mr. Steel was' anxious about Mr. Jlorland. The sleeping- . draught could not be obtained in the village, so Mr. Steel suddenly made up his mind to go to London for it. There is a train at two-fifty-five. What would ' he have done with his dog and his gun ?" "He would have taken the dog with him and left the gun at the railway sta- . tion, Mr. Blake. The dog was quite used to travelling." Sexton Blake rose and bowed. Then he took the manager by the arm. "I don't want to discourage you, but I don't like the look of affairs. Morland opened the window to the wrong man. It wasn't Steel." ■ In three minutes the motor-car brought them to the little railway statjojn. Arthur Craven remained in the car; Blake rattled the grating of the ticket-office with his knuckles, and a sleepy-looking hoy appeared. "jfow, my lad|'' &'n'<l Blake, >"if yon r e here, tell me who booked .by the 1 o-fifty-five for ' London yesterdai afternoon," "Why, nobody did." "Nobody nt all! Are you sure?" , '•Yes, I am sure," replied the boy. as he prepared to hang down the shutter. . "And good reason, too, for that train ■ don't run on Thursdays. It's took off!" Blake had got his answer, and he 1 'iighed. He ran his finger down the I 7 I'-ie-table. The next train was at five- i thirty. He elicited the information that Mr. Steel had not travelled by that. The boy knew him well, and lie was quite positive about it. Blake uttered an ejaculation, and went back to the car. "Have you ever seen that shootingdog of Steel's, Craven*" he asked, as thev drove away. "Scores of times," said the manager. "It used to come on the stage with him in that sporting play we ran last year. The play was a frost, but that wasn't Steel's fault or the dog's. It cost me a L ' pretty penny! The author brought an » action, if you remember. It broke him. ■ both financially and mentally. He went Wl- mad."

W _ "Yes, Ido remember something a,bont it," said Blake. "It's a.n intelligent sort of dog, then?" '•The beggar can do everything'except talk. In the play Steel was' supposed to he shot by the villain and left de<vl on the moor. The scene in tlic gamekitchen, when they hear the dog shining and scratching at the dnor. arid find him with Steel's can in'.'is mouth, nearly saved the play'" JB £ ' "Bv Jove, that's queer l " m\^^M srifexton Blake. "What has becj^H E|/Jli« day!'!., _, ~

There was no news of the missing i man. The doctor had gone, and Sir . Claud Minter had telegraphed that he was on his way. Morlani was conscious, and had asked to see the manager. ■, Craven bent over him, and. Morland'f ' lips moved. •'Don't—don't worry, Arthur," he said, i-,i a husky whisper. "Let—let Jack take the—the part. They'll never know. Jack can—can do it!" Craven turned away with a stifled groan. Jack Steel could impersonate Denver Morland to the very life. But where was Jack Steel? | 111. ' "You had better come with us. The walk will brace you up, Craven. Borrow a suit of Borland's clothes and some thick boots. I've spread a report that Morland isn't badly hurt, for we don't , want any fuss. The doctor has promised ; to keep a still tongue, and it will take ; a long time for news to leak out of this ■ sleepy hole!" i Sexton Blake was making a late ; breakfast, and his appetite was excel- < lent. The manager could not cat a ( morsel, but he had applied to the de- 1 canter of brandy more than once. Jlor- , land's gamekeeper waited outside with 1 a couple of spaniels, chatting with his t

friend the policeman. Sexton Blake lighted his pipe. He beckoned to the gamekeeper, and they turned into the lane side by side, followed by Arthur Craven, and the constable.

"No. sir," said the gamekeeper; ''l didn't 'ear a word of this till just afore you came, or I should 'avc searched. You see, I 'ad a day off, and I stopped the night over at my brother's farm. The carefullest num. as ever carried a

gun is liable to accident, air. Mr. -lack wawit a'.\y fool when he went shootin', but-he may 'ave come to grief. If so, what's become of his dawg! The two of 'em couldn't 'ave come -to grief, surely?"

The detective climbed the stile and looked round him. It was .bitterly cold. They' were in a rough field, with patches of gorse here and there. "Send the dogs in," said Blake, "and then go along up the ditch. I'll go the other way, amr meet you at the gate. You beat about, constable."

The field was drawn blank, except for the rabbits turned out by the dogs. They went on again and entered the wood- They explored it thoroughly, !o the indignation of the jays and woodI pigeons, with the same result. The next field was meadow-land. •• The ditches yielded nothing. Blake perched himself on the gate leading to the next field, and stooked his pipe. It was still freezing. "Have you noticed any strangers about the village lately, constable ?" "No, sir." "Well," s aid Sexton Blake, "now we'll make a move," The gamekeeper sent his spaniels ahead. Then Blake sprang forward, as one of the dogs uttered a sound that was half bark and half whine. He parted the long, frost-stiffened grass. "Here's poor Bruce!"'he said. There lay John Steel's retriever, stiff and stark, with a gaping hole in its ribs, and its sleek black coat clotted with blood* • "Stand back there, and keep the dogs back," said Blakc / sharply. "Don't move till I call you!" ' They saw him stoop and *pick up a double-harrelled gun. Arthur Craven's face was like the face of a man who has just heard his death-sentence pronounced. Again Sexton Blake stooped, and the manager shuddered. He dreaded t"ie worst. "All right!" A path of beaten-down grass clearly showed the line to be followed. They broke into a run. Three haystacks 6tood together, fenced in by iron hurdles. Blake took the fence at a bound. As the others raced up and scrambled over, he dragged away a pile of loose hay. He had found John Steel. "Is—is' he dead?"

Arthur Craven's white lips could hardly frame the question. Steel's eyes were shot, and his legs and arms were tied with rope. "No, he's not dead," said Blake. "Climb that ladder, constable, and wave your handkerchief for the pony-cart. I have arranged that." The signal was quickly answered from the bungalow. Eager hands tore down the fence to make a way for the ponytrap. In less than twenty minutes John Steel was in bed, with one of the most celebrated physicians in England to look after him, for Sir Claud Jlinter had reached the bungalow. "That man couldn't have meant murder," thought Sexton Blake, "whoever he is. If he had he wouldn't have left this here."

An ordinary dinner-knife had been thrust into the ground beside the young actor. Steel's arms had only been 'bound loosely. Had he rolled over and shaken himself free of the hay, he must have found the knife and liberated himself. And he had not been robbed. Blake walked on, and peered into the rotting lock-qf the disused ttinal. A little water still trickled over, and icicle* lain" from the slimy wood in huge spikes. " "Kill the lock!" cried the detective pointing to the rusty windlass. "Whether it bursts or not, fill it!" He had seen where the icicles had been torn away, as if, in trying to cross someone had clipped and fought desper* ately to recover a hold. The gates creaked and the water came rushin.' in Blake bared Jiis arm and threw himself iat. Then something gleamed white I through the water, and his hand s'hot down. "Dinneford, the mad playwri«hti" gasped Arthur Craven, as they draWd the liinp body out. "He swore* he'd ruin me when the lawsuit went against him, and lies done it! He's robbed me of my two-best actors, Blake, and beggared me! * !e

But the madman's, plan of vengeance had come to nothing, though Morland lay close to death's door. A wave of mad enthusiasm swept over the packed theatre. Arthur Craven wined the perspiration from his forehead as he listened to the storm of cheering and applause. Thejr were howling for Denver Morland, shrieking for him. Again and again the curtain was lowered and raised. And John Steel, holding the leading lady by the hand, bowed his thanks. And when it became known that he, had risen from a sick bed to play Denver norland's part Jack Steel suddenly found himself a'hero— "Answers." ,