"THE SILK ENIGMA"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 1 April 1938, Page 14

"THE SILK ENIGMA"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

COPYRIGHT.

BY

J. R. WILMOT.

(Author of “Zora,” “The Invisible Death in the Stalls,” etc.

SYNOPSIS NIKOLAS NOLESCUE, a departmental silk manager at Oxtons, a big London silk emporium, is discovered by PHYLIS VARLEY, first assistant in the Chinese Silk Department, lying dead, his body wrapped in a roll of Chinese silk beneath her counter. SUPERINTENDENT JAMES BECK, of Scotland Yard, finds that Nolescue has been strangled, and after interviewing PETER OXTON, the managing director, Miss Varley and PHILIP SLATER, employed at Oxtons, discovers that Nolescue appeared particularly interested in Suchow silk. Learning that the man had been in China, he seeks the co-operation of PROFESSOR KARMEN, of the British Museum, and finds that the Professor had met Nolescue in Suchow less than a year ago. The Professor tells Beck that Nolescue was seeking the whereabouts of TAO LI, a silk weaver. He also tells him that Tao Li had been tortured and put to death because one of the Chinese secret societies was trying to discover the whereabouts of a famous jewel, the Five Eyes of Medichus, which had been pillaged from a temple and since disappeared. It was believed that Tao Li had information and that before his death he had committed the secret to the silk he had been weaving. Beck believes that Nolescue came to London in order to locate that particular roll of silk. Later Miss Varley and another woman are kidnapped, and confined to a house. During his investigations Slater is attacked at Oxton’s shop and later followed a supposed clue. (Now Read On). CHAPTER XXll—Continued. Ling Foo had given ■ an order to the little Tartar who had been sent to warn Peter Oxton that he must shadow the young man who had just called. The Tartar had never liked coming to England. Life was too circumscribed, and since a strain of banditry ran rather rough-cut through his nature he was impatient to be back again in the East. He accepted Ling Foo’s order with ill grace. Nevertheless, he left the house discreetly and saw a young man answering to Ling Foo’s descri otion sauntering along the lane. The Tartar was an adept at concealment.’ He wriggled his lithe yellow body along the ground like a snake and Philip was totally unaware of the man’s presence.

The sight of that face at the small barred window had disturbed him. Phyllis Varley had disappeared. There was a definite Chinese association between the death of Nolescue and succeeding events. What if Phyllis was incarcerated in this house? It certainly. had not been Phyllis’s face, but what of that? Philip felt that he must make a desperate bid to gain access to the house without the occupant’s knowledge. At first he toyed with the idea of telephoning Superintendent Beck and giving him the “low-down,” but he decided that there would be time enough for that later, when he had solved the mystery, and Philip was quite convinced that he was going to do that. . It was now mid-day and Philip felt hungry. He realized that it would be senseless to attempt to enter the house in daylight and that he must wait for the cover of dusk. With this thought in mind he retraced his steps to the mairi road, witched by the unseen eyes of the Tartar, and made his way back to the village. At the little old-world inn he lunched well and drank localbrewed nut-brown ale from a pewter pot. During the afternoon he wandered about the neighbourhood asking casual questions from field and farm workers concerning the present tenants of The Beeches. All the information he gathered was that some foreigners—yellow fellows —had taken the place, and that little, if anything, was ever seen of them. One farmhand confessed that since had to pass that way at night he had frequently seen a big black saloon car coming and going Londonwards at all sorts of hours. As for the house, only an occasional light showed there after dark.

Before returning to the vicinity of The Beeches Philip paid another visit to old Bob Prentiss in his general store, and he surprised the old man by asking him to do him a favour. “I know it will sound unusual to you, Mr. Prentiss,” he said, “but if I don't head up here again by midday to-morrow I want you to hand this letter to the village policeman. You will set it is addressed to Superintendent Beck at Scotland Yard. He's a friend of mine, and I want you to impress the village policeman with the fact that I want the contents of that note telephoned to Scotland Yard immediately. It may be a matter of life and death.” Bob Prentiss blinked unbelieveably. “You mean that you are likely to b'e in danger from them yellowskins?” “I may be,” Phillip smiled, “but I’m sorry I can’t tell you more just yet. I just ask you to trust me.” “I’ll trust you all right, young sir. And what’s more, if I were a year’ or two younger I’d be along side o you, specially if there’s a chance of a scrap. I did a bit of that in my young days, sir.” Philip thanked him and departed. The blanket of dusk had drawn itself around the house, and the night was incredibly still. He had previously marked a point where he felt it would be easy to gain access to the grounds over the wall with the aid of an elm whose branches tipped the top of the wall.

He climbed the tree without difficulty, and the next moment he had jumped lightly down into the grounds of The Beeches. Not a light was showing, but the house itself loomed blacker than tliS night ahead of him. He had noted a window on the ground level almost opposite the elm tree, and he felt that it ought not to be difficult to force this open. The window, however, needed no forcing. It was obligingly unlatched. Silently Philip pushed up the lower half of the sash frame and scrambled over the sill. The torch he had picked up in Oxton’s the previous night was still in his pocket. Cautiously he switched it on, and in the light saw that he was looking into a small stone-flagger room whose floor was lebow ground level. It had probably been used at one time as a flour store, for there were several empty sacks in the far corner. He lowered himself into the room and closed the window behind him. The door stood ajar, and opening it wider he found confronted by a narrow flight of stone steps. That same peculiar sense of fear swept him again, but he fought down the emotion and stole silently up the stairs, having removed his shoes and left them beside the window of the room he had just left. The door at the head of the flight of steps was also obligingly open and he found himself in a second but shorter corridor leading to the hall and the staircase. A small bluishgreen light burned from a stand-lamp providing the sole illumination. The place was as silent as a vault, and the young man was about to step forward towards the staircase when'the blood seemed to freeze in his veins. From somewhwere at the top of the house a woman screamed. It was no ordinary scream; it was the scream of a soul in torment. For a moment he stood there horrified. He remembered the woman’s face he had seen at the window. The time for action had come.

Discarding caution as if it had been a cumbersome coat Philip dashed towards the stairs and raced upwards. He had not the smallest idea where he was going or into what danger. Reaching the first landing he paused, listening. The scream had not been repeated. He found himself faced with four doors. He placed his ears to each, but heard nothing. On the second landing he fared better. Tlje landing was in darkness and from beneath one of the doors came a faint ribbon of light. He waited for a moment uncertain how to act. His mind was immediately made up by the sound of another heart-rending scream and there was no mistaking the direction. It came from the door opposite him. Philip flung the door open without hesitation and stood staring at a strange .sight. A woman was lying fully clothed on what appeared to be a small wire mattress on the floor. Beside the mattress stood an evil-visaged Chinaman while beside those seconds remained inscrutable, the opposite wall one hand controlling a master electric switch, transformer and rheostat stood the man who had answered his inquiry at the door that morning. Philip understood the significance of the scene. It was a modern form of Eastern torture. These fiends had sought the assistance of electricity and the woman on the wire frame was being subjected to various forms of electric shocks. “You swine,” cried Philip launching himself into the room like an arrow from a bow. The man bending over the woman had turned at the sound of the door being flung open, but his face during Whether he had been anticipating Philip’s attack it was impossible to tell, but he was not quick enough to prevent the young man’s fist crashing his unprotected jaw. Sen Yat Soh spun sideways like a top, but the fact that there had been little resistance to the blow was fatal for Philip who; unable to control his momentum found himself falling on to the electric torture frame on the floor.

Ling Foo at the wall switch saw his opportunity. He swung the rheostat handle sharply over. The woman on the frame uttered another piercing scream before she passed into unsciousness. Philip felt as if a dozen mules had kicked him in the head .simultaneously. He felt utterly incapable of movement and looked up into Sen Yat soh’s evil face without hope. CHAPTER XXIII. MORNING OF MANY MOODS Peter Oxton sat in his office frowning across at Supt. Beck. “I think, Superintendent,” he announced, “that I’m growing somewhat weary of this business. I had imagined that the whole affair would have been cleared up days ago, but what have you done? So far as I can see, Mr. Beck—and you must forgive me if I speak plainly—you have done nothing. First a valuable member of my staff is murdered; then another equally valuable employee disappears, and now, , this morning, I hear! that young Slater is missing. If affairs continue like this, I shall have no staff left. I’m afraid I must ask you for some assurance in this matter, Mr. Beck.” (To be Continued).