THE SOLUTIONS OF RADFORD SHONE.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8984, 19 November 1907, Page 2

THE SOLUTIONS OF RADFORD SHONE.

[Published By Special Arrangement.] [All Eights Eeseeved.]

CHAPTER I.—Continued. He paused to mark the effect of his communication, as though expecting that I should at once endorse Shonu's view that the woman now residing in the Cromwell Road was personating Miss Nunehain, as a sequel to having made away with her. All that I could do, however, was to admit that theve was a strong prima facie case of suspicion. "But tell me," I said, "how you get over the fact that this person addressed you by nama directly she set eyes upon you." "There are plenty of my photographs in the house, and no one would have gone into a deep-laid plot of this kind without being thoroughly posted in the victim's circumstances," was Petrie's reply. "1 presume that while abroad you corresponded with Miss Nuneham? When did you last hear from her?" "Eighteen months ago. I have been quite out of touch with mails and post-offices—in the wild country round the head waters of the Zambesi."

That was a pity, for it ran us against a dead wall in the matter of the handwriting. At least, it increased the difficulty of proving whether the change was sudden-or gradual; also of fixing the exact date of its commencement. At that moment a whistle at my speakingtubs summoned me imperatively to the presence of the Chief Commissioner and I rose and held out my hand

"You have certainly set us a nut to crack," I said. "I will work it myself in conjunction with one of our best men as soon as I have read Shone's report. Of course, as he is unofficial, we shall have to verify his contentions."

"That is just what he said," returned Petrie. "That instead of arresting the woman forthwith you would dawdle about till she got wind of it, and had made her escape; while if by any chance you pulled it off, Scotland Yard would get all the kudos."

Making allowances for his depression, I bade him "Good-day," and went to transact the business of the moment, which kept me for some time. It was not till an hour later that I fourd myself in my own room agai'i, and sat down to master

Shine's report, the caligraphy. of which was atrocious enough to bespeak its author's genius. The matter, however, was lucidly put, and when 1 laid the sheets aside, I could understand Petrie's impatience for an arrest.

Shone had set to work methodically by getting into communication with the only servant retained by Lettice Nuneham during her stay at Basildon Farm—the coachman who had driven her there at the commencement of her visit, and back to Cromwell Road at its termination. The address of the man, as a material witness, was given—Murchison's Mews, Earl's Court—and a note was added that he was now in other service. His name was Sparshott. Sparshott had told a straightforward story enough. In answer lo Shone's questions he had admitted that while at the farm he had noticed a great change in Miss Nuneham's appearance—a change which she took pains to conceal by wearing a heavy veil. On one occasion he had surprised her whib walking in the garden without it, and he had been horrified »t the alteration. Pressed as to whether the change was sudden or gradual, he had inclined to the former opinion. He was unable to give dates, but he had seen his mistress' face on the drive down, when it had been as usual, but she had almost immediatley begun to use the veil. Asked if his mistress had received any visitors at the farm, Sparshott had answered with a decided negative. And he had voluntarily added that the only occupants of tha house, besides Miss Nuneham and himself, had been an old woman and her daughter, who had acted respectively as cook and housemaid. He had heard that these women had been temporarily engaged, and that they were going to America at the termination of the job. Having finished with Sparshott, Shone had gone down to Basildon Farm, convinced that there had been foul play. He had found the house unoccupied, uiid that it had re.'mained so since Mias Nuneham's tenancy, it being the property 01 a farmer who worked two farms and resided on the homestead of the other one. Shone had then commenced a systematic search of the house and grounds, which had resulted in the gruesome discovery of a rudely dug grave, containing the remains of a woman in an advanced state of decomposition. There was no denying the force of the eminent expert's reasoning, and yet from the police point of view I was not wholly satisfied. It seemed highly improbable that a woman could have planned and carried ou\ -'.ich a crime without male .accompli ; . The women who we; e to go to America at the termination ■of then engagement were certainly a feature to be considered in this respect, but to my mind the absence from the report of all mention of the gentleman whom Petrie had seen descend from a doctor's Lettice Nuneham's house gave j Shone's case a lack of completeness | and finality. : On the principle that two heads are better than one, I called to my counsels a very long head indeed. That is to say, I rang my bell and told the messenger to send in Detec-tive-Inspsctor Kyrlc. He . came at once—a big, loosely-jointed man, grown iron-grey in the service. "Just sit down and read that report, Kyrle," I said. "Mr Radford

BEING NARRATIVES BY OFFICERS OF THE CRIMINAL INVESTIGATION DEPARTMENT, -AND OF THE PROVINCIAL POLICE, IN RESPECT OF DEALINGS WITH THE EMINENT EXPERT, MR RADFORD SHONE.

CCOIMITJJICATKD TO AKB F.DITKD BY MMDOI 111 L 1,..

Shone has been pulling our d;< srmits out of the fire, you will see." He gave me a shrewd jihii'co, at the back of which lurked something I could not put a name to, .•ctu -iU>ed to his work. ''Willi all due deference u. (ho Gower Street prophet, hj- hadn't \\wished his job," the inspector as he turned down the »ast shed, "If Shone is"correct in his premises, the woman is only a catspaw." "Exactly my view," I replied. And 1 told him of Sir Angus Petrie's shadowing of the house, and of the visitor in the brougham. Inspector Kyrle rose briskly. "If a love-sick baronet car. ;-pot a man going into a house, it oughtn't to be beyond the resources of the Yard to put a name to him." he said. "Shall I work on that line?"

I nodded assent, and the inspector was gone. He was back just as I had given him up for the day and was preparing to leave the office. He had get the name, and the caller was a medical man after all—Dr. Michael Bardsley, of Harley Street. I knew him by repute as a specialist in throat diseases, and said so. "Some one's throat will want a hempen plaster before this is over, sir," was Kyrle's grim you haven't any important private engagement to-night, I wish you would come with me and see this coachman, Sparshott. I can't think he's told Shone all he knows, for I have learned that this Dr. Bardsley was several times at Basildon Farm." We boarded an Earl's Court train at Charing Cross, and during the short journey my companion described how he had procured his information. As luck would have it, the doctor chanced to call while Kyrle was hanging about the Cromwell Road, and he had promptly claimed acquaintance with the driver of the brougham, alleging that he had met him in the neighbourhood of Basildon Farm. The man had fallen into the trap, and while disclaiming all recollection of Kyrle, had admitted that he had frequently driven his master to the farm.

"Queer.thing, all this travelling by road when the place is not an hour from Euston," said Kyrle. "Establishes a wonderful similaritj of ideas between the doctor and the present tenant of Miss Nuneham's house."

I thought so,, too, though not quite on the same lines as Kyrle. His discoveries made me grateful that a2:other of my old school-fel-lows was a surgeon of even greater eminence than Dr. Bardsley, and to this friend I determined to submit certain questions in the event of Lettice Nuneham's former coachman conducting himself as there was just a chance that he would. Murchison's Mews was the usual gloomy cul-de-sac of coach-houses and stables, with curtains and win-dow-boxes in evidence above. Halfway down the mews a burly man in shirt-sleeves was washing the wheels of a smart victoria. He saw us long before we approached, for by the time we reached him, he was standing upright, facing us, arms akimbo.

"We want a man namedSparshutt," 1 said. "Can you direct us to him?"

The fellow stuck his tongue in his cheek, and looked us over impudently. On the surface he was a jovial creature, with a suggestively grog-iios-somednose; but in his little pig'seyes lurked a latent cunning that flattered that thought of mine which as yet I had not shared with my able colleague. "1 am Sparshott," he laughed, in a deep bass. "And you're 'tecs from Scotland Yard, I expect? I guessed you'd be along, after the pumping Mr Radford Shone gave me. A won • derful man—read what was in my inmost 'eart, but what I didn't dare put speech to till he dragged it out." At an imperceptible sign from me the inspector took up the running. "It isn't what you told Mr Shone, but what you didn't tell him, that we are after," said Kyrle. "Why did you withhold from him the fact that Dr. Michael Bardsley was a frequent visitor to your late mistress at the farmhouse?"

Watching Sparshott closely, I seemed to detect a curious eagerness, blended with apprehension, at this revelation of Kyrle's knowledge. Yet his answer rang out without hesitation — "Because I saw no such person." "Then you are in rather a tight corner," I chipped in in front of Kyrle. "Because there's been a murder done at Basildon Farm, and there must have been a man in it. You are the only man known to have been there during Miss Nuneham's occupation—if you deny that Doctor Bardsley was there." The coachman looked this way and that, his baggy cheekd quivering with an emotiiin that it was difficult to analyse. It was like, and yet unlike, fear. A moment later it was disclosed as resentment against unkind fate. (To be Continued.