EBONY TORSO

Wairarapa Times-Age, 30 August 1939, Page 10

EBONY TORSO

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

(By

JOHN C. WOODIWISS.)

CHAPTER V. (Continued). The Detective smiled and nodded slightly to reassure him. This conversation in dumb show had only taken a second or so. but as Hopion turned his attention to his host again lie realised that it had been observed in the shiny surface of the coffee pot. "What's the matter, Smith?” cried the parson sharply, his sallow face registering doubt and anger as he shot cut the question. "Nothing, sir,” replied the servant, humbly. "Then take yourself off and don't hang about,” retorted his master, biting his thin, white lips to restrain his annoyance. The old man retreated precipitately.; closing the door behind him, and dur-; ing the short, awkward pause that fol-' lowed, Father Galebourne continued his task in ominous silence. "That old idiot’s becoming impos- 1 sible!" he burst out at last, as he pass- J ed the Detective his coffee. "May I ask why he was putting his finger to ‘ his lips as if requesting you to keep silence? I can only suppose he must have been chattering before I came in.” "I really can’t imagine what he meant,” retorted Hopton. sipping the warm, fragrant beverage. “I’m afraid you're attempting to shield the fellow.” remarked the padre severely. "I can't help suspecting 1 was deliberately decoyed from my house just now by Sergeant O'Mara, in order that you might have the chance to abuse my hospitality and question Smith during my absence.” There was an almost electric pause after this direct accusation, during which the Vicar kept a suspicious watch on his guest’s face. Hopton’s brain was working at lighting speed; he well knew the dire consequences to Smith if he mentioned the bruises. “No, sir,” he answered truthfully. ‘He told me nothing.” “Then why the gesture?” enquired Galesbourne sarcastically. “I find it had to believe you, Inspector, knowing the old idiot’s weakness for chatter.” “I’m sorry, but that’s the truth,” repeated Hopton. "Well, I’m quite prepared to take your word,” said the Vicar at last. "But I must question Smith later as to what his idea was.” The Detective fully realised the sinister meaning behind the last remark, and determined to prevent any possible violence to the servant by giving his host a broad hint. “By the bye,” he remarked easily, “the poor old fellow's wrists are in a bad state, aren't they?” Galesbourne looked up quickly from the coffee cup with a supercilious smile. "Bad. state" he repeated incredulously. "What do you mean?" ‘His wrists are covered with bruises.” "Indeed, did he tell you that?" asked the Vicar in a concerned tone. "No, I saw them just now,” Hopton assured him.

"Ah, I expect it’s the result of his accident a week ago." smiled the Father benevolently. "He tripped over a coal scuttle and fell half-way down the cellar steps, poor old boy. I thought he’d killed himself, and really he was very badly bruised and shaken up. The doctor soon relieved my mind, however." "Oh, you had to call in the doctor, then?” “Yes. Inspector—Doctor Gravely. He’s been my doctor for years, as well as being my churchwarden at St Luke's." retorted the other triumphantly. "He was the person who suggested Smith should be moved to the Union Infirmary: you see. the poor chap’s almost gone in the brain. Quite senile and weak-minded at times, and I suffers from delusions.”

“In what way, sir?” inquired Hopton incredulously. "He seemed pretty normal to me.

"Well, like so many weak-minded persons, he’s included to suffer from a form of persecution mania at times.” "Indeed? That's bad."

"Oh, yes. Doctor Gravely assured me his brain was definitely weakening and that it would be quite useless to take much notice of what he said in future. So. in view of a medical certificate to this effect. I'm afraid you'd never be able to. use him as a witness, Inspector."

The last sentence was said in a light, joking tone, but a ring of triumphant sarcasm was plainly apparently. "In that case I wonder you don't take the doctor’s advice, and put him in an institution, sir," parried Hopton. "He'd be well, looked after." "Its purely a Question of sentiment, as I said before," Galesbourne assured him. "He’s been in my service so long that I feel bound to respect his utter horror of all pauper institutions and keep him on as long as 1 possibly can." "I quite appreciate that, sir," agreed the detective with pretended cordiality. "But if he annoys you as ” "I’m sorry 1 appeared so shorttempered just now." the Vicar broke in. making an obvious attempt to conceal his momentary lapse from the pose of clerical benevolence. "But I’ve had to put up with a good deal of irritation from Smith's idiosyncrasies in the past. I find firmness is the only way to deal with him."

"I follow you." said the detective, finishing his coffee and getting up. "Well, thank you for your hospitality, sir, but I'm afraid I must be making a move now."

"There's no hurry, as far as I'm concerned," smiled the Vicar as he rose. "I seldom go to bed before two in the morning."

"I’ve got a lot of work to do, if you'll I excuse me,’ Hopton assured him./ knocking out his pipe and making fori the door. "Well, good-night, sir, and thank you again,”

"Good-night, Inspector, delighted to have the chance of meeting you!" the padre called after his departing guest. But a peculiar alteration took place in Father Galesbourne's expression as he closed the door after the detective and giving a deep sigh, ne returned to his study. I Meanwhile Hopton ran down the steps and came out into the street. As he paused, Sergeant O’Mara appeared from the shadows where he had evidently been waiting, and came forward.

"Well, sorr, how did you get on?” he I enquired, in a tow tone, as he saluted, j "I didn't get much for my trouble, • Sergeant,” replied the detective. "But j I noticed one or two interesting ' things." i “Did you, now?” asked O'Mara ! eagerly. "I thought I'd better be hangin' round in case you came to any j throuble, although I feel certain it's ' not in the Vicarage you'll be needin' I help." i "Thanks. Sergeant," nodded Hopton. "I want to have another look round in the neighbourhood of Ritson-lane.” "I'll go with you, sorr, if I may," sugesting the Irishman, walking beside him. "Good,” agreed the inspector, "and you can tell me all you know about that old man Smith.” "Ooch, he’s a queer old burrd, an' no mistake!” chuckled the officer, as he

and the Scotland Yard man crossed the road and turned the corner. "I rather think the poor old fellow’s a bit . . .” His final sentence ended abruptly as, grabbing his superior officer suddenly my the arm, the. Irishman hurled him into the road, where he sprawled, with his protector on top of him, just avoiding a mass of heavy coping which crashed from above on to the pavement in the exact spot where they had been standing a fraction of a second before. So close were they to death that they were covered with dust from the shattered masonry. “Shure, that was a narrow escape, sorr,” panted O’Mara, helping the Detective to his feet. 'Tis these darned frosts which bring stuff loike that down. I’m sorry to shove you out of the way, but there wasn’t toime to waste.” Hopton wiped the dust and mud from his coat as he stood looking up at the dilapidated house from which the masonry had fallen. “No, it was a pretty close shave,” he agreed. "But I think it was deliberately done, Sergeant!” "I shouldn't be surprised, sorr," agreed the other, as he gazed at the point from which the stonework had fallen. "I think I'll examine those premises. You see the place is ‘To be Let or Sold'?” The two officers forced the window of the old house, entered the front room and climbed the stairs. They quickly found a skylight leading on to the roof, scrambled out and examined the point where the coping had broken away. Hopion was not in the least surprised to find ample proof of his surmise that me fall had not been tne result of an accident, but that the stonework had been deliberately loosened, and that the remaining section was perfectly sound. He was examining it with Jus lamp when an exclamation from O’Mara brought him sharply round. "Look here, sorr,” said the Sergeant in an awed whisper, as ho flashed the beam from his torch in a dark corner. Hopton bent clown and instantly understood the cause of his companion's excitement. ■ In a pool of half-thawed slush was a replica of the mysterious footmark that had been found on the sill outside Scutl’s room in Little Street! (To be continued.)