THREE MEN AND A MAID.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXI, Issue 9055, 14 February 1908, Page 2

THREE MEN AND A MAID.

[All Rights Reserved.]

CHAPTER XV.—Continued. James had not to wait long for his refreshment. Then, to make sure, he drew the inner blinds, as he was, alone, and gave himself seriously to think.

As usual, he was fastidiously dressed. A dandy always, the mourning he wore for Robert was in the height of fashion. He glanced at a portmanteau on the rack overhead, and was in a mind to open it, but forebore. Then he remembered that the attendant was a tall man, nearly [his own height. 112 waited until the train had left Grantham—that was an admirable trait in his character, he could wait—and rang the electric bell. The same steward came.

"By the way," said James, "do you go oft* duty when we reach London?" >

"Yes,|sir." "It is beastly cold and damp in town, I suppose?" "It was rather rotten, sir, when I kern away yesterday." "Ah. Then you have a stout overcoat, and perhaps a cap, on the train?"

"Yes, sir." The man grinned, wondering what this pleasant-spoken gent was a-gettin' at. "Well, you see this coat ant' hat of mine?"

"Why, yes, sir." "If you will exchange your lot for mine, I shall give you two pounds into the bargain." The grin faded, to be replaced by a .glint of suspicion in the sharp Cockney eyes. Attendants on main line expresses encounter all sorts and conditions of men, and the request savoured of anxiety to be disguised.

"Yes," said James, reading the upon page of the man's face, "I wish to conceal my presence on the train from a person whose movements I mean to watch. That is all. I have offered you an excellent bargain. Of course, if it doesn't appeal to you, there is nothing more to be said." His apparent lack of keeness on the deal acted like magic on the steward. The grin returned. "D'ye really mean it, sir?" he asked.

"Here are my coat and hat—and. the two sovereigns," said James, putting his hand in his pocket." "I'll be back directly, sir. Butmy togs are rather " "Bring them." Thus it came about that few people would recognise the ultra-fastidious James Courthope in the seedy-coking person wrapped in a greenish-black frayed overcoat, with the collar turned up and wearing an old deerstalker cap pulled down well over his brows, who rushed to secure a hansom at King's Cross, threw his bag inside, told the driver to wait, ai.d then mixed with the throng of hurrying passengers. Another man, whose only remarkable feature was a pair of very sharp eyes, was hastening up the line of waiting cabs and omnibujes. He seemed to be interested in the eager directions of passengers to drivers, and had a glance for labels on luggage too. Hence, he saw the wnrd •"Hudston," the relic of some short journey in Yorkshire, on Courthope's, portmanteau, and he also saw the letters "J.C."stamped on the leather. Then he took in the fact that the owner of the initials wore verni boots, trousers of good material and style, but a coat and cap that were monstrous in comparison. In fact he •would not have been Mr Winter's most trusted subordinate if he missed any of these unimportant things. "By gad!" said he, "that's odd," and his scrutiny of others ceased, all his attention being given to Courthope. Hence, when James listened to Philip shouting to a cabman, far down the line, to drive him quickjy to Turner Studios, in the Finchley road, the stranger listened also. When James darted back to his own cab, which was better placed in the line than Philip's, and told the driver that if he reached Turner Studios, i Finchley road, in ten minutes under time he would earn a sovereign, his shadow murmured affably:

"Things are about to happen in the Finchley road. Guess I'd better move in that direction myself." So he, going one better than James, ran out of the station, sprang into a motor cab, and assured the driver that he might do some trick driving, having Scotland Yard, where the licenses come from, to back him up. The number of that motor was sent in next morning by four policeman on traffic duty, but the result was that Winter's deputy was posted outside Turner Studios many minutes before Courthope's cab dashed up. The further.outcome of a whirligig ■of events was that a policeman who happened to stroll that way became suddenly very attentive when the quiet-looking man signed to hi.n not to be in a hurry. When James Courthope arrived, the haste which marked his movements at King's Cross had gone. He was placidly smoking. He alighted, told his cabman to pull up at the next corner, and crossed the road, heading straignt for the policeman. In fact, James had determined on a bold course, which might be expected cf him. He had not previously known Marjorie's address in London, leaving it to be discovered by a trusted valet at Edenhurst.' He expected to find it awaiting him at a West-end hotel, but Philip's presence in the same train had upset all his plans, and it seemed more than probable the girl was living ,in these studios, as he had a vague memory of Hannah's references to her sister's earlier residence in that part of London. If Philip met Marjorie there might be a joyous reconciliation. The molelike burrowings of a fortnight, the extraordinary good fortune of the

By ROBERT ERASER.

[Published By Special Arrangement.]

misunderstanding in the tower, would be undone. James smoked, pulled his Vandyke beard, and swore that this thing should not be. He tackled the constable with his usual air of courteous superiority, trusting to his wits to overcome the effect of his outer garments.

"I suppose you have read of the Hudston murder?" he said. "You will remember that a Yorkshire gentleman named Robert Courthope was found dead in a ruined church, with a duelling-sword planted in his heart?"

"Y—yes," admitted the constable. "Well, I am Robert Courthope's cousin. You will see.that lam wearing a thin disguise," and James threw open his overcoat, revealing, even in the dim light of a lamp, that he was better dressed than was visible at a first glance. "And what can I do for you, sir?" asked the other, in a tone that told James he had made good his opening. As a matter of fact, the policeman was wondering why the watching detective did not show any intent to join in the conversation. "I am naturally interested in the capture of my cousin's murderer. Do you recall his name?" "Yes, sir. AMr Warren—Philip Warren, that's it, a youngish man, kind of artist in style, well set up, walks with a long, free stride " "Exactly. Ycu see that cab com-ing-along the road? If it stops at Turner Studios, and a man of that description gets out, he is Philip Warren."

"You don't say!" exclaimed the policeman, stirred by visions of promotion, yet astounded that this prize should be left to his hands.

"I am quite sure of it. Most fortunately I found you here; otherwise, I should have been compelled to drive to the nearest police-station. But, as I prefer to remain out of the affair, don't take my word for it. Ask the man himself if he is not Philip Warren, and then form your own conclusions."

"By Jove!" muttered X 100, gazing covertly at his non-uniformed associate standing in the doorway of a neighbouring house. So that explained the presence of the Scotland Yard official! He knew, too. Indeed, as Philip's cab drew near, the detective strolled towards them. Above all things it was important that XIOO should act promptly. The constant feud between the wearers of uniform and of plain clothes became a compelling spur. It was a glorious achievement to get ahead of the "Yard," though in this instance the "Yard" seemed to be complaisant. If he could arrest the man concerning whose extraordinary crime all London was talking a week ago, it would be a whole bunch of feathers in his cap.

Philip's'cab was travelling fajt, and there was not much time for reflection. James-knew when to keep his mouth shut. He only added a murmur:

"I have your number, and I shall not forget the officer who secured that scoundrel, Warren." That vvas sufficient. Philip stood upright on the footboard, handed the cabman some silver, and jumped down, to be accosted by a policeman with the demand: — "Is your name Philip Warren?" "Yes," he said. "Then I arrest you for the murder of Robert Courthope, at Hudston, in Yorkshire. Better come : with me quietly. Anything you may say- " "Oh, go to the devil!" cried Philip, wrathfully indignant that this stupid constable should.interfere with him at such a moment. XIOO seized him by the arm.

"If you resist " he began, but, luckily for Philip, reason mastered just anger, or the policeman might have been surprised by the strength in those square wrists. Philip swallowed something.

"There is no use in explaining matters to you." he growled. "Take me to a superior officer. And you need not handcuff me," he added contemptuously. "You and I can go in this cab. Come on! Be quick ! I am in a hurry." (To be continued.)