MURDER IN THE PROCESSION

Wairarapa Times-Age, 19 November 1938, Page 12

MURDER IN THE PROCESSION

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

COPYRIGHT.

BY

LESLIE CARGILL

(Author of “Death Goes by Bus.”)

CHAPTER VII. —Continued. Mosson was beginning to see daylight. The Assistant Commissioner had undoubtedly hoped that the scope of investigations was being so narrowed down that one man could become the point of concentration. And Malask was that man. Now he had explained away all that was suspicious and even had an alibi for the essential factor that had encouraged optimism at. Scotland Yard, c “The case,” Caythers added gloomily, “is no nearer a solution than it was a fortnight ago and that doesn’t add to my reputation or . that of my officers." “Surely you exaggerate.” “No. Why, there is even talk of resignations which would make a howling public sensation. Parminster’s death wasn’t an ordinary crime. It was an assassination at a peculiarly important time. Authorities who do not usually take the slightest interest in crime are pushing hard behind the scenes.” “I’m afraid this mood is beyond me. Only a few minutes ago you were cheerfully eliminating suspects, hoping to arrive at the guilty person by a logical process. Now you’ve descended into the depths. And all through my reference to the Imperia fire.” “Simply because you brought home, forcibly the baffling nature of the quest.” “What are you going to do now—sit back and admit failure?” “Certainly not. You don’t appreciate your value as the mummy at the feast, bringing to mind the immutable realities.” “That a fact. I don’t.” “One of these days I’ll thank you adequately. If you were really policeminded you wouldn’t be half so useful. From this moment we start all over again.” “Impossible.” “Wrong, old man. I shall go personally over all the data with a fine tooth comb. As for you, there is an important commission. Take this amateur film spool of Malask’s to Miss Hulme and ask her to do her damndest with it.” Major Mosson balanced the tiny container in his hand and inspected it curiously. “What do you expect from this?” he asked, rather .foolishly.

The “Assistant Commissioner grinned mirthlessly. “Not a blessed thing,” he remarked. “And as this happens to be the first idiotic possibility that I have considered without the faintest tinge of optimism we might happen on a slice of luck. Heaven knows we could do with it.” , CHAPTER VIII. People whose daily concern is with the making of films live in a curious world unlike any other. Their life is concerned with shadows, so that they find it difficult to disassociate the reflection from the actuality. Oddly enough, those who are continually dealing with real happenings in the pictured form are extremely susceptible to this sort of disembodied entity. Dick Cartwright happened to be an unusually hard-headed individual who took his job as a matter of course. Naturally he acquired some of the hard boiled outlook incidental to his craft, but, for the most part, he remained wholesomely unaffected. That was no doubt the reason he and Phyllis Hulme took a fancy to each other. The girl never cultivated mannerisms deliberately. She was in the artificial shadow orbit and yet retained a freshness of outlook that was a very definite part of her charm. Among people who copied the appearance and peculiarities of screen favourites Phyllis preferred to be her own self. And that, young Cartwright thought, was the best thing that could happen. Major Mosson had established himself as a firm favourite with both of them. Command of men had made him a fine judge of character, and he liked those open-minded, warm-hearted, quick-witted people who had their being in an unusual corner of society so far removed from that he customarily moved in. "And he’s not a bit like a policeman really,” Phyllis announced, as if making ' an important discovery. “Of course he isn’t anything of the kind,” Cartwright replied. “Well, sort of, anyway. He’s a high official at Scotland Yard. I thought everybody was a detective there.” “You’ve got it a bit wrong, but let that pass. The way you keep on about the Major makes me —me me —” “What?” “Weren’t you going to say ‘jealous’?” “Yes I was, if you must know.” She smiled, and if only he had been able to understand the way of it there was a great tenderness in that swift change of expression. “And why.” she demanded, “should you be?” “Oh forget it! . Of course it’s got nothing to do with me.” “Hasn’t it?” The opening was deliberate if only he had sense enough to take it. But in affairs sentimental Dick was obstinately shy. Instead of rising to occasion he went on another track. “Whenever I talk to him he’s on about you.” “Why not,” she replied. “He’s a friend of mine, and yours. Don’t you know that to me he’s always praising you to the skies?” “No. How strange.” “Think so? Perhaps there’s a reason for it.” “Surely not!” Phyllis looked at him angrily and stamped her foot. Was ever anyone quite so dense? Obviously the inference was that the Major was trying his hardest to bring them together in a tactful manner. She knew very well that he would hardly be likely to apply forceful methods, but there wasn’t .much doubt about his intentions. “Sometimes you’re aggravatingly dumb,” she exclaimed. Dick was out of his depth and looked it. Before he could think of a reply the subject of their conversation appeared on the scene with a jocular “Enter the villain of the piece." The girl broke into a peal of laughter which had such an odd ring in it that the Major was momentarily concerned. “I say,” he murmured. “I’ve blitted in at the wrong moment.” “That’s all right,” Cartwright said sulkily. "We had been talking about you.” “Not too complimentary, perhaps.” “Don’t take any notice of him,” Phyllis advised. “There was nothing in it, really. I’d been sticking up for you as a friend of both of us.”

“So I am, my dear girl. What seems to be the trouble then?" She came close and whispered, but not quietly enough to prevent being overheard. . "Don’t be ridiculous,” Dick commented. Major Mosson’s eye twinkled.“At my age I take it as a compliment to be suspected of jealousy. Put me down for a meddling old fool, if you life, but make your mind easy, boy. Though I will go so far as to say that if I was you age I shouldn't hang back.” There was no mistaking his meaning. Dick looked sheepish, but the girl smiled and blushed, which made her look even more attractive than usual. And the Major thought he was smoothing the path to romance very effectively. “Well,” he added, “I’ll be going, now that I’ve paid my respects.” “Surely that wasn’t all you 'came for?” “Thanks for the reminder, Miss Hulme. We’ve an amateur film and thought you might be able to speed up its development.” “Can I see it?” He passed it over and the two young people stood closely side by side to examine it. “Sub-standard,” Dick announced. “This 9.5 millimetre stock won’t fit in our tanks.” Mosson must have betrayed his disappointment, for Dick went on to say that a friend in the trade would soon do the necessary work. “Leave it with me and I’ll guarantee it being ready by tomorrow,” he offered. “Excellent. I’ll call here for it about three o’clock.” “Righto, sir. In the meantime we’ll fix up a miniature projector so you will be able to watch it running.” “Very kind, I’m sure.” There was a* 1 strained silence for some minutes after he had departed. “Well!” Phyllis said at length. “Good chap, isn’t he?” “Is that all?” “I —I suppose so. Why?” “Nothing. Only I wish Major Mosson was twenty years younger,” she remarked viciously. Dick Cartwright had all night and part of the next day to puzzle this out. He hadn’t succeeded when he turned up with the hurriedly-developed little film, though, to all appearances, Phyllis had forgotten all about it. She greeted him with her usual friendliness.

“Travers has done his best with the spool,” he explained. “Unfortunately it isn’t too good, although there’s something on it. He’s the report.” A slip of paper was carefully marked cut with alternating references to un-der-exposure, over-exposure, and other faults, which she read through with an experienced eye. “We’ve rigged up a projector and miniature screen,” she informed him. "What about running it through?”

“Suits me.” “Hurry up or the Major will be here.” The workmanlike little machine was soon clicking away in the darkened room. Malask had not the best out of his camera, but there were recognisable scenes of the procession taken from a somewhat peculiar viewpoint. Near the end he had essayed an experimental shot of the professional operators at work on their Trafalgar Square platform. “That’s rather interesting,” Phyllis commented. “Which is you?” “Too tiny,” he replied, “and badly exposed into the bargain- Scotland Yard won’t learn anything from this. Why, the shooting doesn’t come in at all.”

“I wonder if it would be worth working on.” There was a tinge of excitement in her demeanour. “I’ve a good mind to try my hand at sharpening it up.” “Better let the Major have a look at it first. You might make a hash of it.” “Pooh! You’ve a poor opinion of my capabilities.” Mosson’s arrival put an end to an argument that threatened to grow heated. After seeing the film he agreed that because it wasn’t much use as it was, there could be no harm in submitting it to a chemical process. This was a rather lengthy and complicated business, so they left her to it. Next morning there was such a commotion at Scotland Yard that the Major forgot all about' Malask’s amateur effort. Caythers was fuming and threatening immediate resignation. Not that there was anything unusual in this.. He had been making 1 a habit of it lately. There was cause for his display of bad temper. Count Vrenska had gone back to Baltnia. Without a word to anyone he had packed his bags and departed by the night, boat, taking Malask with him. “Anything behind it?” Major Mosson asked. “What do you think?” The Assistant Commissioner scowled fearsomely. “I don’t know. My impression was that you were sure enough that he could be absolved.” “That’s right, rub it in.” j “Why have you changed your mind?” “It never was properly made up, although I did put him on one side. As I told you. I started again at the very beginning and began a new examination of everybody who could possibly be implicated. Vrenska was perturbed for the nrst time, complaining that after giving his solemn word he thought he would be left alone. Next thing I heard was that he was on his way to Dover. The devil of it was we hadn’t any power to stop him." “And Malask?" “Nothing on him, anyhow."

Mosson thought this over carefully. Count Vrenska’s action had more than a superficial suggestion of hurried flight. Was this for his own protection or that of his servant? In either case it opened up a whole series of awkward possibilities. On expressing these opinions aloud he roused the further ire of his colleague. “How," he demanded, “am I expected to sort things put when foreign diplomats and their retainers are mixed up in them? Be discreet, they demand up above, and in the next breath they insist on the speedy apprehension of the culprit. Personal inclinations dictate my immediate resignation.” "Does that mean you are clearing out?” Misson managed to suppress an almost irresistible chuckle. “Not yet. Unfortunately I’ve a strong sense of public duty as well as a streak of obstinacy. Before finishing I intend to unravel the mystery whatever the consequences. The powers that be can

then amuse themselves clearing up themess."

Plainly the Assistant Commissioner had swung round completely in regard to the Baltnian representative. His hurried departure had put a new com-* plexion on the case. Mosson found the volte face faintly comic. He was getting, he concluded, a lesson i n what was at once the strength and the weakness of the whole criminal investigation system. Here was the human element coming to the fore. Instead of cold-blooded calculation there was a trace of what he would have called in his army days “wind-up.” Until an adjustment could be made to conditions that appeared to exist the Assistant Commissioner was content to judge on appearances. Sometimes appearances would turn out to be correct, sometimes not. The question was which was right in the present instance. And the dabbler in police work seemed the only one retaining an

open mind. All the threats of resignation lie was prepared to dismiss as so much hot air. Caythers was letting off steam mainly because lie was blaming himself for not having concentrated on aspects of the case which now seemed to be obvious. But Count Vrenska and Malask had escaped out of reach. Thai much was an accepted fact. “Suppose.” Major Mosson said seriously, “you’re making a tremendous mistake in believing you’ve got things cut and dried. Won't that be strongly in favour of the guilty party?” Captain Caythers scowled. “It would,” he admitted. “But you can’t escape plain facts ” (To be Continued.)