"THE SILK ENIGMA"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 2 April 1938, Page 12

"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 PHYLLIS VARLEY, first assistant in the Chinese Silk Department, lying dead, his body wrapped in a roll of Chinese silk beneath her counter. SUPERINTENDENT JAMES BESK, 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 XXllL—Continued. MORNING OF MAY MOODS The Superintendent had every reason to be irritable, and on this occasion it was not due to a cut chin or cold bacon. He had been informed by ten o’clock that Philip Slater had not turned in to work; that an inquiry at the address where he had a room had elicited the information that Slater arrived home late last night and had left again very early without giving his landlady any explanation for his early rising. Now he was being rated by Oxton because, it appeared, he had done nothing about it. What did the fellow expect him to do? He’d done everything he possibly could regarding the girl’s disappearance, and he could not reasonably be expected to do anything more. But that Oxton shouldmore or less—charge him with neglect of duty . . well, he certainly liked that! Of course, he realized that it must be disconcerting for Oxton, but if if was disconcerting for Oxton, how much more disconcerting was it for himself. Oxton wasn’t answerable to a superior authority. He was a private citizen, not a public servant. Beck leaned forward. • “I can understand how you feel, Mr. Oxton,” he began, “but let me first of all point out to you that, at your own request, I withdrew police protection from these premises. By doing so I broke one of our regulations and laid myself open to reprimand and, possibly, dismissal. I did that because the safety of your daughter had been threatened. Very well, I think I can say—and with some certainty —that had I been allowed to go about this job in my own way, neither Miss Varley, nor Mr. Slater would be, at this moment, missing. Neither, too would some unauthorized person have entered these premises last night and taken away a quantity of your Chinese silk. You have to admit, Mr. Oxton, that under the circumstances you have only yourself to blame. You speak of talking plainly. So do I. No other course is left open to me, but whether you like it or not, I’m going to proceed with this case along my own lines. What happens as a result of that, I, and I alone, will assume responsibility. Peter Oxton’s face, that a moment ago had been outrageously red, paled somewhat. “But what about the threat?” he demanded, nervously. "You know what the threat was. If anything should happen . . .”

“Nothing will happen if I’m left to do the job in my own way. I was a fool to take any notice of you before. But then I’ve always had an absurdly soft heart and I’ve realized before today that it would be my undoing before very long. Now about the affair last night. What quantity of silk was taken?”

Peter Oxton consulted a report that lay on his desk in front of him.

“Three rolls of Suchow silk,” he announced. “It’s value was in the neighbourhood of fifteen pounds.” “I suppose the rolls would have been fairly substantial?” “No, not very. One man could have taken them out without much truoble. Of course, he might have been noticed walking through the streets.” “He wouldn’t,” snapped the Superintendent. “He’d have a car packed nice and handy. How did he get in?"

Peter Oxton shook his head. “I suppose in the same way that Nolescue’s murderer got in,” he said, weakly. “The watchman says there’s no sign of anything being out of order.” "It was probably the same man,” decided Beck, dismally. “Now if I’d had my men on duty as I’d arranged . . .”

“Yes, I know,” protested Oxton, “but can’t we do something about it? It’s not the silk I’m worrying about; it’s my staff. I can’t think they’re concerned in all this.”

“They’re not,” said Beck, decisively. “I believe that their disappearance has some connexion, though; particularly that of Miss Varley. As far Slater, I don’t know what to think. You may be interested to know that round about midnight last night he ’phoned The Yard and left a message for me. That message has been worrying me for hours. From what I gathered he must have seen someone in the store and went after the fellow. He said something about being trussed up for his pains but managed apparently, to free himself. Then he informed the desk sergeant that he was following up a clue and that when he found anything he would let me know.” Peter Oxton’s face visibly brightened. "Then it’s not so bad after all. He’s a smart young fellow, Slater. It would be something of a feather in his cap if he pulled it off under the noses of Scotland Yard. What would you say about that, Superintendent?” The Superintendent grimaced. He felt that Oxton was now laughing at him and such conduct was unforgivable.

“I may as well tell you, Mr. Oxton, that I asked Slater to keep an eye on the place as often as he could. That was because, at your request, I had no men on duty. I like young Slater. He’s a good type of kid, but all the same I’m worried about him. If he’d only told me what the clue was he was following, I’d be feeling a whole heap happier at this moment. You see, Mr. Oxton, the amateur detective can do incalculable harm to a case of this kind unless he’s very, very careful. He might get himself into serious trouble, too. My own view is that we’re dealing with a gang of highly dangerous fanatics who are wanting to get hold of some information by way of the Suchow silk you have in this store. They are that type of fanatic that stops at nothing to get what they want. We’ve had one murder already, and I don’t mind admitting that I’m uneasy. However, I can’t see what more we can do at the moment, but whether you like it or not, Mr. Oxton, my men are now on duty in and around the store. They won’t be in anyone’s way. They’re good fellows who know their respective jobs. Two of them will remain behind here tonight when the closes. You need not worry about them; they will be as unobtrusive as shadows. There will be others outside the store. I’m doing this purely as a precautionary measure. I don’t anticipate that there will be any breakings-in. I do not imagine that any other members of your staff need fear abduction. My only regret is that it’s rather like closing the stable door after the horse has cantered away. I’m going back to The Yard. If Slater turns up here, let me know immediately. And you might deal gently with him, remembering that I’m responsible for his absence this morning.”

Peter Oxton passed a hand across his eyes and nodded. When Beck returned to his office he was surprised to hear that Professor Karmen was waiting to see him and he hurried to his room.

The Professor was not alone. He was accompanied by a tall,gaunt-look-ing Chinaman.

“Ah, good morning, Mr. Beck, allow ms to introduce an old friend of mine, Professor Kan Fu who has just arrived from China.”

The Chinese professor bowed elegantly and smiled, displaying a set of perfect teeth. “And what can I do for the two professors?” questioned the Superintenlent with a smile.

Professor Karmen answered. “You remember, Superintendent, our little talk the other day about The Five Eyes of Medichus. Well, Professor Kan Fu is the head of the temple sect who are the rightful owners of ithe jewel, and it has come to the professor’s knowledge that powerful counter-influences are at work in London at this very moment in a desperate effort to obtain possession of the secret. “He tells me that the head of the organization at present operating —-and the one without doubt responsible for the murder of Nolescue —is none other than the great bandit Sen Yat Soh, whose name alone in certain parts of China is sufficient to strike terror into the hearts of his opponents. He tells me also, that Nolescue was employed

by the Golden Eagle Tong, rivals to Sen Yat Soh, and that having investigated at first hand the assassination of Lao Ti, the silk weaver of Suchow, he is convinced that on a certain roll of Suchow silk, which was consigned recently to London, the secret has been woven in the form of a trade-mark to escape detection.” Professor Kan Fu nodded his head in agreement as his friend finished his narrative.

“And what am I expected to do about it, Professor?” asked Beck, helplessly. “It’s quite the most amazing tangle I’ve ever encountered.”

Professor Karmen had little idea what he ought to suggest. He had been confident that, having substantiated their early theory concerning the death of- Nikolas Nolescue, the Superintendent, would immediately put his official machinery into motion to secure the arrest of Sen Yat Soh and his gang. “I thought it might not be so difficult now that we are certain,” he suggested, lamely. The Superintendent laughed. “It wouldn’t be difficult if we knew what we were about. All I can tell you is that a large quantity of Suchow silk was stolen last night from Oxton s stores and, at the moment, we haven’t an inkling who stole it and where it might be.” “But this is terrible,” wailed Professor Kan Fu, in quite delightful English. “Already Sen Yat Soh may have found the answer.”

“It would be a great help if I knew where to find this mysterious gentleman,” suggested Beck, mildly. The two professors looked at one another anxiously.

“That’s just what we don’t know,” Professor Karmen told him. I We thought that Scotland Yard . . .” “Could find a needle in a haystack,’ supplied the Superintendent. “According to my information,” he went on, opening a folder and taking from it a foolscap document, “no Chinese alien of that name is known, to us. All I can suggest is that either he is registered under another name or else he came to London uninvited. You appreciate my difficulty gentlemen?”

Professor Karmen certainly appreciated it. Until Sen Yat Soh was given an address he must remain the ev.erelusive personality that he was throughout the Far East. Neither was it a comforting thought to Professor Kan Fu. His friend, Professor Karmen, had given him to understand that Scotland Yard could assuredly have put their fingers on the fellow immediately they knew they were looking for. “If it will be of any help to you,” Beck sugested, “I can arrange for both of you to inspect whatever stock of Suchow silk Oxton’s may still have, and, of course, I’ll get our aliens officers on the hunt immediately, but they are not going to thank me for doing that, believe me.”

And with that the two professors took their departure. CHAPTER XXIV. PRISONERS THREE

Philip Slater struggled desperately to roll himself off the electrified mattress, but it seemed as though every wire that touched him had claws dragging him down with a fascinating affection. ‘Switch off!”

The voice of Sen Yat Soh sped through the room like the crack of a rifle and Ling Foo, still standing beside the switch, released the handle and the torture mat went “dead.”

Sen Yat Soh moved closer to the exhausted man and the unconscious woman, but he seemed utterly oblivious of the woman. She might have been dead. He did not care. His narrow slits of eyes fastened themselves on the young man.

“Get up” he commanded, peremptorily. From the tone of the Chinaman’s voice Philip realized that this was no moment for heroics, and though his body felt as thought it had been kicked all over, he struggled to his feet. “Who are you and how did you get it here?” he demanded, rubbing his chin affectionately.

“Does that matter?” inquired Philip, glancing down towards the still form of the woman.

“He is the man who came this morning, Excellency,” piped up Ling Foo. “I fancy he is from Oxtons.”

“Is this true?” screamed Sen Yat Soh.

“Perfectly.” “Take him away while I cool my fever,” announced the man, beckoning to Ling Foo. “I will see him later.”

“Butthis —this woman,” Philip began to protest. “Surely you are not . . Sen Yat Soh paused on his way to the door and glanced back over his shoulder.

“She is a woman who would search for, youth that is lost,” he replied, enigmatically.

When he had gone, Ling Foo touched the young man on the arm.

“I will show you to your room,” he said, in a tone that might have been used by a hotel hall-porter.

Philip had roused himself out of his surprise. “You will, will you. Take that,” and Philip’s arm shot out to the man’s face, but his doubled fist struck nothing but the air. The next moment a grip of iron descended on the nape of his neck. Ling Foo had side-stepped with the expert agility of a boxer, but it was not Ling Foo who gripped the young man’s neck. It was another smaller —more hideous yellow man. And Philip was as helpless as he had been last night when he had attacked the man in the store.

In this summary and utterly ignominious fashion he was frog-marched from the room, along the landing and bundled into another room totally dark. A key snapped in the lock and he found himself alone.

Ling Foo now busied hbiue’f with restoring Brenda Lennard to consciousness. He did in inartistically by dashing cold water into the woman’s face. Miss Lennard blinked, and when her eyes rested on Ling Foo’s face she gave a little scream and cowered back again against that horrible torture-impreg-nated mattress. “It is well, Miss Lennard,” Ling Foo told her, politely. “When you are well enough I shall carry you to your room.” Brenda Lennard shuddered again.,

Phyllis Varley, meanwhile, had been summoned before Sea Yat Soh. The girl felt anything but cheerful. She heard Brenda Leonard’s screams and knew that her turn came next. It was horrible; revolting.

“Sit down, Miss Varley,” said Sen Yat Soh, indicating a chair. “I am in a difficulty. We have a visitor and I want you to tell me something about him . . the truth, you understand.” For a moment the girl’s lept with hope. “But who is it?” she asked, excitedly.

“I have to learn his name. He is a young man from Oxtons. Why he is here, I know not, but as you know I have ways of making tongues loosen.” “You mean Mr. Slater. But that’s wonderful,” cried Phyllis. “You say he’s here?”

Sen Yat Soh watched the girl, an evil leer on his lips. He nodded. ‘Yes, if that’s the young gentleman, he’s here, and I want you to tell me everything you know about him and particularly whether- he knows anything about Chinese silk.”

Phyllis was on her guard immediately. She had no idea how Philip had found the house. But her next thought was not so hopeful. Perhaps Philip had been brought here as she and Miss Lennard had been.

‘I really don’t know very much about him,” she began; “that is, if it really is Mr. Slater. He’s on the office staff, but he comes into the shop occasionally otherwisel would know nothing about him at all.”

“You lie!” exclaimed Sen Yat Soh. “You and he are lovers. Your eyes speak more truly than your tongue. And being lovers you will have secrets. They are secrets I must know, and I must know them before tomorrow sundown. You will speak?”

Phyllis felt herself trembling. What could she tell him but the truth. She knew nothing about all this silk mystery that he had prated about ever since he had brought her to the house. She couldn’t understand a word of it, and she doubted very much whether Philip knew, either. “I don’t know any more that what I’ve told already to you,” she insisted. “Yet you lied to me about that silk,” he sneered. “You said it had been bought by Miss Lennard. I now know that she did not purchase any silk. What have you to say to that?” “I have nothing to say except that you drove me to it,” she said hoarsely. “I gave you the first name and address that came to my head. I didn’t know that it would prove to be the name of an actual person.” “Very well. You will go back to your room and see if Miss Lennard is well. I shall not need her again for a ■ little while and I imagine she will be electric tonic.” feeling a little distressed after her “YOU LIE!” Philip heard the grating of a key in the lock. A yellow light glowed through the tiny room. Ling Foo stood in the doorway.’ “You will come with me, and you will make no attempt to be violent. If you are you will be placed in irons, uncomfortable irons, Mr. Slater. Irons that are connected with the power unit. You see we are thoroughly up-to-date in this establishment. We use modern inventions.’

Philip decided that, after his previous experience, the fellow probably means everything he said and he realized that if he was able to get free of the house again he must not be impeded with irons, so he preceded Ling Foo along the passage and down the staircase.

Sen Yat Soh was waiting to receive them. There was a note of impatience in his almond eyes.

“So, Mr. Slater, you are from Oxtons. Employed in the office. Doubtless you know something about the consignments of Suchow silk that have arrived in London in the past four weeks. Is that not so?”

Philip felt that the Chinaman had become possessed of accurate information in the shortest possible time, since he had appeared not to know who he was less than an hour ago.

“Up to a point you’re right. I have notes for the silk you mention.” seen the invoices and the delivery Sen Yat Soh rubbed his hands. His ancestors had been pleased to be kind to him to-night. Without any plotting this young man, who might easily prove to hold the key to the secret, had actually walked in on him. But Sen Yat Soh was much too hardened a campaigner to- take too much for granted. He was secretly intrigued to know how the fellow came to discover his hiding-place. “Tell me,” the Chinaman went off obliquely, “how came you here . . .to this house?” “Just strolling around,” said Philip lamely. “Not good enough, Mr. Slater. Can’t you think of something more in keeping with your undoubted intelligence? Or maybe you require a stimulant to your memory?” Philip understood that he was dealing with no ordinary Chinaman. This fellow was as clever as a bagful of monkeys. (To Be Continued)