THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 179, 21 August 1909, Page 3

THE STORYTELLER.

IHE man in the blue blouse. ONE OF THE MOST INTERESTING OJT THE SEXTON BLAKE SERIES.

"A case that presents some elements of interest," mused Blake, as he put down his evening paper. * He had been passing a comparatively

idle week, and his mind was in the mood to roam over problems uninvited, and .from a purely abstract point ol view. On opening bis evening paper, the first thing his eyes had encountered was the provocative heading, "Inexplicable Mystery." "As if any mystery were inexplicable!" be bad muttered. But as he had read on he was forced to admit that in this case the adjective was not altogether a misnomer, always providing that the facts given were at once exhaustive and correct. "This morning," . ran the paragraph, I "the "workmen going to their work in Wimbledon Tunnel found, between the line and the wall, and near the mouth of the tunnel, the corpse of a man, dressed in blue cotton blouse and overalls. He had been killed by a thrust through the heart, inflicted by some long, narrow instrument. The body bore no traces of contusion, and it does not,, therefore, seem likely that he was thrown from the train. I "Yet all the efforts of the Scotland Yard men, immediately summoned, have | failed to find any clue to point to the ■way in which the body came there. This is the more remarkable, as the ground I sear the tunnel entrance is extremely! spongy. The deceased is a well-known resident plumber of Wimbledon, named Joseph Spring. He called last night to his cousin, Matthew, Shields, and the two'walked together down the road towards the tuanel. Witnesses having come forward to aver that the two were later seen quarrelling, the police have detained 'Shields in custody pending further .enquiries." Blake's reverie was hardly in. a definable stage when a ring at his bell was followed by the introduction of a visitor. The red eyes, the frightened; quivering mouth of the young' and comely woman before him told Blake their tale. "You ire Mrs. Shields," he said kindly, "and you have come to consult me about your husband. Take your, time, and tell me your story." "There is no story," said the -young woman, stilling a sob, "save that it's all lies. Matthew that tender-'earted, too, and '.ard-workh' and regular. Not to say as he liked Joseph's sly ways and 'abits o' backbitin'. But to go for to kill 'iml Why, Sir, he couldn't do it, and then come in same as if nuffin' 'ad 'appeaed, and kiss me and the kiddies good-nignt, after gayin' the prayers, too, beih', as 'is father was, & strict Wesleyanl" . "Then that is really all you know, Mrs! Shields t l ' said Blake pleasantly.

"He went out—lor how long?—for near. * ly an hour; he came back as usual, and went to bed. Said no word of a quarrel!" -

"Never a word," sa!3 the wife, "An' so it's sure there wasn't one!" "A small man!", , • "Lor" bless- yer, no, sir! He'd make two o 1 you!" "Aad you want me to take the matter up?" asked Blake. "Oh, sir, if you would!" cried the woman. "I ain't rich, but I've got some leven pun eight shillin' in the Post Office,-, an' you ahall 'ave it every farthin'!" . , < , "We will talk about that later," said Blake, with a smile. "Go home now, and leave the matter in my hands. 1 will try aad see you Tnls evening or tomorrow morning. One moment—did you clean his boots, the boots he wore last night?" "No, sir, I did not. They were wet, and I left 'em by till this mornin' to dry!" . "Tken don't dean" them till I see you," dud Blake. >

Ha sank back in his chair again when] * she' had gone, and his brows wrinkled I into a puzzled frown. 'Shields—Shields!" he muttered. "Ah, yet; I remember 1" • He took down a. week-old coppy of The Times from a file, and examined it closely. - "Quite an interesting case," he murmated softly, as he restored the paper to its file and reached for hitf hat. Be was on the threshold of his door when the bell rang a second time, and this time to admit Detective-Sergeant Flair. "Oh, ypu're going out?" said the S2tgeant, in a tone of disappointment. "J can spare you a little time," said Blue, consulting his watch. "Want to seAme professionally?" "Well, yes," admitted the sergeant. The fact is, I'm right down puzzled. It's the Joseph Spring murder. I know up in it, as I saw Mrs. Shields " coming out." "And, of course, Shields it not the guilty party!" said Blake, in a judicial ' tone.

"I'm not sayia* that, yet," sard the sergeant evasively. , "Well, I'm acting for Mre. Shields," 'said Blake 'coolly, resuming bit hat.

■"So'it must be cards down, or no deal!" ■■"Honestly, I don't Believe him guilty." sail Hair "hurriedly. "But if he isn't, wM» U? Spring hadn't a real enemy in the plaee—quiet, sober sort, whose only fault was bein' a hit hard to answer back"

l"Have you found anything 1" asked plaice. "Yes, and no," said fie sergeant. «H»t is, tliere are one or two marks I ean't explain, and that's all. You\ may be able to explain them, so I come to you." "Then well go down and view the place first," sa'd Blake, '"and I'll see the' body- afterwards." 1

The District Railway put them down at Wimbledon .-within the half-hour, and . Blake and the sergeant lost no time in 'gaining the entrance of the tumel, It had teen carefully hoarded off, but it only took them a minute to gain the' inside of the hoarding. Blake turned tSesergeanffc bullseye oil to the ground, and shrugged hid' shoulders. It was ; trampled over hopelessly. 'lt's the -workmen'who found him," said the sergeant, flushing a little, x r "Naturally," replied Blake. "But, hallo! What's this?'' He we;it down on his knees, am} peered in the' 9omewiiat x harder mild fight up against the wall. There was a curious, randled-up print in the soil—yuch a print as might have been nuute liv the bunched-up finger-ends of a 'eg-luf.uiutton-fisted hand. Blake examined St. with a/puzzled frown; then, taking <nut« knife, carefully cut out the sod in ■which it lay. There wa6 a curious flicker j of li.'Ht in his eyed as he rose to his , 'et■at' 'iich by inch examined the wall, V ' fc stopped to gather from the juugn stones what seemed to the sergeant like fluff from a brown coat. "Shields was' wearing a furry brown coat," he said significantly. '<Nb doubt," said Blake absently.

Eia gjze was fixed on a curious red smew on the wall some eight feet aWe •thD?ground. "Give us a knee, /sergeant," lie said; i and the next moment be was standing on the sergeant's' bent kHt», examining -lliat smear through a powerful Jens. He picked out several more bit* of Inwn woolly stuff, and scraped a Jit tie r- -of t1« smear on to a slide, and restored tlii lot to his pocket-book.-''l t'howht those .two things would ' Interest yoaf «aid the sergeant. "What do vou make of (tjiem t" •JToo early to any yet,"- said Blake, ■" WlttW liad become curiously set. .'fvil'like to have a look outage." jC- took the lantern, aHd %-ouaUd tire f -r*\ slope to the roadway, stopping r to examine the ground, rn* -lasipnally even to sniff at it. On 1 reaching fh« top. one glance at the road. Y chirred with traffic, was sufficient to j>top !i ! - visting time an trail-hunting 11-' loaded Ms sat on the "•it:, "rid colled to the sejggant to come Wp-to him. . • -"Aiwl bring me a local man wis toiows th/f he called. -"Here's IVibson," said Flair, intredicing on in'Mtigent-looking constable. ' 'He's beeii here ier twenty years, and '.yna born and bred 'here." '"Couldn't be said Blake, passing his .pouch to Dobson. •■'Now, friend i Dobson. I want some information about these Shields. Who is Shields? VHmt «fo« he do? Who were Jiis father and i nr-rther? And has he any relative' in

t«e -Vicinity?"' ~ '■ '•He's « saddler, sir," said Dolwon. "as \ 4 ' his father was before him. I 'ave 'card ;■- tell is old Father Shields married a sight < nbove him, and there are some who say that she; was sister to the mother of ' J , Squire Fijisy. who lives out ftsher way. Anv'ow. ifhe 'ad th? same name, Ca"Three of the Carstnlrs the:* itas, liviita at Kingston. Old Squiie *>* Tory's wife, was one. old Shields' w'jfe ■■V 1 tmothPr, aml there was young John •i , * Cantffirf, a wild blade, what, went off 1 tn America, and nobodv 'card no more j VlWnt. Tiiafs all I know about 'em, { *ir." "1 seef'i said Blake. "So if what * * junior sap 5 is true, Shields and Squire e t J'Glev 'are cousin« on the mother's side. 'j 1 lfoloT, 1 1 suppot*. do.esf't (idml.t the

'c don't, sir!" laughed Dobs'on.l "E be a very proud and arrogant eortl of gentieman, and 'e don't cotton to unible folk at all!"

.Thank you, Dobson," said BlaUt*, slipping a coin into his hand. "I think that is all I want to know for the mojuent. I'll look you up later, Flair. I ve got one or two enquiries to make, .bo if you have nothing better to do, you might wait for me at the static here.

| He trotted off, careless of Flair's growls, and made his way to Mr<s. cottage. "Do you happen to have Shields' mother is marriage-lines?" he asked her! pom-t-biank.

it. e3 ' s ' r ' * < '° l " s ' le sa 'd> lv 'iUi a stare. But "

Then I d like to see them at once," hurrv Smilingl3 '' ' Tm in a great

~S h\ to °k down a family Bible from' the shelf, dusted it, and drew out a yellow bit of parchment. It seemed to tier that .Blake hmlly glanced at it before handing it back. Then he had "one as unexpectedly as he had arrived. Once outside, Blake ran for Ravnea Park Station.. Luck favored his enemy as he caught the train he wanted an it' was beginning to move out, and in the course of half an hou r stepped out at Ksher.

The Foley Arms!" he murmured, .ooking up at the sign of an inn outside the station. "Couldn't be better!" He went in, ordered a glass of bitter and a sandwich, and sized up the company. It was half an hour before he came out and he'looked as pleased with himself as if he had already solved his case.

Selecting a fly with a good horse, hi bade the man drive up to Foley Court,' and, stopping him at- entrance, ■walked up the long woodi.. --.me leading to the house. He was conscious more than once that something was in the bushes, stealthily following him in a parallel line. He looked back once or twice, and when a bend concealed him from cabman and house he flung a handful of pebbles in the ■ direction of Lite sound. It evoked a vicious, angry bark, and Blake's eyes grew hard as swordblades as, reaching the portico, he gave a resounding peal at the bell.

A magnificent flunkey opened the door.

"Tell Mr. Foley I want to see him" Blake said. "And give him my card." ' And, walking in, he stood looking round the hall.

"I heg your pardon, sir," said the flunkey, "hut Mr. Foley is at dinner." "Show me into his private .room, [then," said' Blake coldly, "and acquaint I him with the fact that I am waiting for him/'

The flunkey gasped, bowed, ushered Blake into a eomfortable, s'pacious library, noiselessly closed the door on him, and finally retired to do his errand. For a moment Blake stood still, and took stock of his surroundings, his keen gaze taking in every article of furniture, till they rested on a panoply of arms behind the great man's chair. He made one bound over to it, and took 'down: a long, inoffensive-looking cane, which, however, to his skilful touch, threw its wood back in the shape of a guard, repealing a fine, supple foil of Toledo r/jake. Blake gave one glance at the lower I half, snapped the. wood back again, and I replaced the' stick on the wall.

"Careless!" he said, with a shrug, as he took his place on the hearthrug and awaited the coming of his host. He iad not long to wait, for Mr. Septimus Foley bustled in with the light of fieiy indignation aglow on face and 'n eyes, his serviette, still tucked under his chin, his arms aggressively planted, elbows out, and hands on hips. "Who the dickens are you, sir?" ho b'ustered;

"Sexton Blake is the name on my card," said the detective. "Sexton Blake! What do I know of Sexton Blake?" roared Mr. Septimus. "I don't know you, sir, and I don't want to! .So out you go, before you are chucked out!"

Blake's eyes' glittered coldly. "Excuse me," he said, suddenly bend-J ing forward with an air of deep con-, cern,'"but are you wounded? Surjly there is blood on your serviette ?" I

"Blood—blood! Wh--where?" stuttered Mr. Foley, hi 6 purple face taking a blotchy pallor. <

He seized the serviette in his two hands,.and brat his head over his double chin, striving, to see. , > Then Blake sprang. There wan a glitter of steel and a swift click, and Squire Septimus Foley stood handcuffed. "And there is blood on your heart, too, you scoundrel!" said Blake sternly. "I intend to give you in charge for the murder of Joseph Spring!" 'lt is a preposterous lie!" said Foley, in a voice he vainly endeavored to stay from shaking. • "That's fo'r the jury to decide," Said Blake. "And I dare say the delicate sword-cane which, by the way, yon omitted to clean—will go a long way towards convincing them!" "Why, I didn't even know the fellow!' : Mustered Foley. "You're mad, Mr. Blake—mad as a hatter!" "No! But you heard some high words between him and your cousin Shields," said Blake. "And you thought to kill two birds with one stone", since Spring would have inherited jointly with you and Shields the sixty thousand pounds left by John Carstalr9 to his relative^!" "Who are you? Who are yon ?' hissed Foley, staring at him with rolling eyes. "Sexton Blake, detective," said Blake quietly. "Now come along. And get someone to bring that brute of a baboon of yours. Of course, you had him in your dogcart, and when you fyid slain Spring yeu sent the baboon down the embankment with the body. An inneniojiS idea; and if you had destroyed' that sword, and your baboon had 7»ot been shedding his fur, you would probably have'saved your neck. Ab It is t am waiting!"—Ansivere.