THE SOLUTIONS OF RADFORD SHONE.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXX, Issue 8993, 30 November 1907, Page 2

THE SOLUTIONS OF RADFORD SHONE.

Communicated to and edited nv HEADON MM.

[Published By Special Arrangement.]

[All Eights Reserved.]

CHAPTER IV.-Continued,

"Very important-looking —a tall, thin chap in toff's clothes and a silk hat, and a condescending way of treating you, as if you really weren't dirt but ought to be," I answered her. "I thought so," sniffed Sue. "He's a fool, that's what he is—to think that our sweet Miss Viola would behave like a kitchen wench. And he'd be a worse fool if he knew her. And you've been and got in a tangle about her drowning herself, too. Old Doctor Carthew is at the bottom of this, or I'm a Dutchwoman. You just put on your helmet and button your tunic, while I run up and look at the kids, and then you'll come along with me." I knew her better than to ask where, being sure that she would tell me when she was ready, and that wasn't till we were out in the quiet village street under the stars. Then she did not tell me in words, but by suddenly stopping at Doctor Gray's house, which was only a few doors away, and pulling the nigbt-bell. "You let me talk when we get inside," she whispered while we waited. * It was the doctor's housekeeper, Mrs Brant, who answered the ring, and though the faithful old soul seemed excited, and a trifle scared at the sight of my uniform, she made no ■ bones about admitting us. "Your Gertie's got croup, Mrs Vanstone, I expect," she said, as we stepped into the hall. "Yes, Doctor Gray is in—come back from London an hour ago. Walk into the surgery, please—ah! here is the doctor." For at the sound of voices the door of the dining room opened, and •old Carthew's successful rival stood on the threshold, peering out at us. He didn't look like a successful man just then, with his face all haggard and drawn, and he that nervous that he couldn't keep his hands still. It was as good as a revelation to me that whatever he'd been to London for, it hadn't been .to g6t married No day-old bridegroom ever looked such a picture of misery. "Come in here," he said, beckoning us into the room, where the remains of a scarcely-touched meal lay on the table. "I can see do not want the surgery. You are here about this horrible business. Has there been any discovery?" She looked at him, then at me. "Didn't I tell you Shone was a fool!" she exclaimed. Then, turning to the doctor "Miss isn't found, but I—we and my husband that is—are going to find her. When did you first hear that she was missing from the Grange, Doctor Gray?" The question seemed to me to disconcert him. i "When I reached home this evening," he faltered, after a pause, quailing, I thought, before my wife's alert, penetrating gaze. "Don't keep anything hack, doctor," she urged. "We are your friends and hers. Mrs Brant will have tuld you what Mr Dickenson believes, plummed up by his precious Paul Pry from London. Bill here don't agree with him, and thinks that Miss Viola is drowned. 1 don't hold with either." , The young fellow sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. ! "Vanstone is right," he sobbed. , "My darling girl is somewhere at the ' bottom of the stream, and I—but \ no—for her sake I cannot explain ' why I am so certain that she has been j drowned." Then I held my breath as that wiry iittle slip of a woman marched up and shook him by the shoulder. "That's as good as halt a confes- j sion," she said. "If you don't give . us the rest of it, I'll order Bill to lock j you up this minute." . "If you'll formulate the charge, Mrs Vanstone," he said looking up , at her 'sullenly, "I'll do my best to . meet it." "Being a fool," she tossed'back at . him. And with that quick change to wheedling that none knew better . than I, she went on: "Now, doctor, e .dear, won't you treat us as friends? " .Bill isn't here exactly on duty; any- i way, I'll go bail he shan't blab any- . xhing to Miss Viola's hurt or yours." Then, bending over him, she added: , "It's my belief this has been got up by Carthew—out of spite." , Doctor Gray started up as if stung, and looked wildly from one to the , other of us. "If that is so, where is Viola," he cried. "If she is alive she is probably in . danger. Where is what we want to find out," Sue answered. "We , •cannot do that without your help." j It ciily needed a glance at Gray t to see that masterful spoupe of j mine was to have her way with him, ( He was all of a y tremble, now, with the new fear thatshe had raised, ana he had to moisten his lips before he ; •said: . "Well, you shall be told, and make , what you can of it. But I think ' your husband and Radford Shone ( are both right. Viola did run away ( to join me in London, and she must r have been drowned on her way to < the station. See here." llu took from his pocket this letter, w..:c'h he handed to my wife, and which 1 /sad over her shoulder — Dearest,— "Dad has become unbearable. Go up to town by 8.50 to-morrow. I will follow by 3 0.30 to allay suspicion. Meet me at Waterloo and take, me to some decent lodgings where.l can stay till we can be married at it registrar's. Then youmust go back tame night, and join me ] when necessary notice has expired. "Yours, VIOLA.'; Gray had been surprised to receive such a letter, ,as there had been no , hint of any such intention when he . had met the girl a flay or two previously, and it was not like her to take a step that must finally alienate her from her father. They had both been hoping to wear down his opposi- 1

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.

tion to their union in course of time. But, as Doctor Gray said, there was nothing for him to do but to obey ' her request, and he had duly carried out the progiamme up to the point of 7 meeting the train that followed his at the London terminus. Viola had not come by it, and he met all the I subsequent trains during the day with like result till it was too late to return. Of course he could not tele- , graph to her at the Grange. < Next morning he had again met ' the first ftw trains at Waterloo, but there was no Viola, and he had ; then rushed about in cabs, inquiring for her at hotels. There was just a chance that she might have come by , an alternative route to Paddington, after naming the wrong terminus in her letter. Finding no trace of her anywhere, he Jiad returned to the village by an afternoon train, dud on reaching the station had heard a confused account of what had happened. Mrs Brant had furnished further particuars of Radford Shone's visit of inquiry, and hearing of the investigator's ominous insinuations he had decided to preserve silence about the letter. He could only accept the discovery of the sunshade in the stream as evidence that Viola had j been drowned on her way to the station, but, for the sake of her father's i peace of mind, and to save her name from wagging tongues, he would bear his cross alone. Sue had kept the letter in her hand during his excited narrative. "Are you certain that, this is in Miss Viola's handwriting?" she asked him now, giving the letter back. "1 really didn't look at it very critically." he said. "There hasn't been much need for letters between us, you see. It is the paper she uses, Dut—by Heaven 1" "The writing isn't hers," Sue finished for him. "I'll lay Doctor Carthew wrote that letter, and that he's got Miss Viola somewhere, tight as nails. Twig his game! The sly old fox counted on the very suspicion being raised that Shone has put into Mr Dickenson's head. It did not matter whether you produced that letter and f.aid you had ' not seen anything of Miss Viola or not. Either way Mr Dickenson would think you had hidden the girl in London, and your practice would be ruined." , "But that means Carthew would have to detain Viola indefinitely;' perhaps—or, you can't think that—make away with her altogether," Gray exclaimed in sore distress. "And what'about the sunshade?" I put in, loth to part with what had seemed to me such an important clue. "You think Carthew threw it into the stream to make people credit the young lady with a piece of low canning?" My wife withered me with a scornful eye. j "No, I don't," she snapped. "I think she threw it in herself for a good reason, which you're soon to learn. Now come along b;>th of you, and do a neighbourly act'. We'll go j down to the mill and ask how Mrs | Vince's pleurisy is." I began to have an inkling of what was in her mind now, but Doctor Gray was too dazed to see it. He even "began to protest that it would be a breach of medical etiquette for him to go near Mrs Vince, since, as he had not been called to her professionally,she must be one of Carthew's patients. Impatiently she ■ grabbed his hat from the sideboard, put it on his head, and half pushed him 'out into the hall. | "Up to three days ago Jane Vin- < ce never had an hour's illness in her . life," sht said. "Great hulking hussy, as strong as a horse, and her husband of gipsy stoilc, and no better than they ought to be. Bill here knows Vince's record, though 'twasn't for him to speak so long as the chap behaved." I was able to corroborate with the information that before he took the j mill, Vince had been in prison for horse-stealing in Wales. The doctor, still too agitated to see our drift, opened the front door, and so came face to face with Radford Shine and j Martin. Shone stood on the step, J with his hand outstretched to pull the bell, and the light from the reel lamp | over the doorway showed the satisfaction on his face. But the next moment, as he noted my uniform, in j the background, his face fell. | "What's this, constable?" he df- | manded angrily. "Have you arrested § Doctor Gray?" n "Oh, dear, no sir; there's nothing against the doctor," 1 replied, and I heard Sue chuckle approval of my j answer.' It was nice to know that I I had spoken right. Shone's face 1 and my awe of the man dwindled, tor one can't respect pettiness. I perceived that he had been afraid that he had been forestalled, j and that his momentary chagrin had | been due to jealousy Sue would give him something to be jealous of directly, I hoped, if only she could | do it in time to save a tragedy.' | That hope, made me impatient of this | delay. I be Continued). |