EBONY TORSO

Wairarapa Times-Age, 1 September 1939, Page 10

EBONY TORSO

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT

(By

JOHN C. WOODIWISS.)

CHAPTER VI. | (Continued). | “Nonsense!" snapped the Detective I tersely. “I’ve seen one of those great j telegraph poles, snapped off by a gale,. held up by wires. Those wires are I terrifically strong.” 1 They crawled back and climbed into ; the room again, to find that Galesbourne and the doctor had already left. To trace the course of the telegraph wires was no easy task on such a foggy night, but, after some trouble, the; officers found that they crossed the roof of a large warehouse and, having obtained admission from the nightwatchman, ascendea to the roof, where they were rewarded by finding indistinct signs of the creature having dropped from the wires above .... only a smudge of moisture, but sufficient to prove Hopton’s theory that the thing had actually taken this perilous road to safety. An immediate search of the factory showed that their quarry had escaped by smashing one of, the back windows and got clean away into the dark line beyond. By the time Hopton had verified this point, Sergeant O’Mara had appeared with reinforcements. The big Irishman scratched his chin dubiously as heard the story of the monster’s latest escapade. “I never heard of such a thing,” he remarked. “A creature of that size cloimin’ about on telegraph wires is something quite new, sbrr.” “Well, that’s what undoubtedly happened, Sergeant,” retorted the Detective sharply. “It was cornered, and had to risk its neck to avoid capture.” “Shure, it can’t be an ordinary sort of creature to do a thing loike that,” mused O’Mara, in an awed tone. “You’d better get down and tell your men to be on the alert, Sergeant,” suggested the Inspector acidly. “The thing’s dangerous. It may be turning up again at any time. It’s shaken me up pretty badly, and I’m going to get a few hours’ rest. If you want me, ring me at once: you know my ’phone number.”

Hopton must have slept very soundly, for it was quite light when he was awakened by the telephone bell. The instrument stood by the bed, and Hopton took up the receiver and put it to his ear with a preliminary “Hello.” “That you, Hopton’?” inquired Carlinford’s voice from the other end 01 the line.

“Speaking!" "I wanted to ask you if you said anything to make Galesbou’rne think you suspected him of being connected with this Ebony Torso business, last night?" asked the Divisional Inspector, in a tone plainly intimating that something was wrong. “No, nothing whatever: why?” returned Hopton. “I’m glad to hear you say so,” retorted the other. “I might have been serious if you had: Galesbourne’s committed suicide."

“Committed suicide?’! repeated the Detective incredulously. “Drowned himself,” amplified Carlingford. “I’ve just had a report from River Police Headquarters. A loafer on the embankment saw a man jump in, and raised the alarm, as he couldn’t swim. The officer, who .arrived on the scene shortly afterwards, found Galesbourne’s clothes rolled up in a bundle on one of the seats, with a note saying he’d taken his life, as his nerve had gone in consequence of continued rumours connecting him with the Scutt murder case.”

“I’ll come clown to the station right away,” agreed the detective. “Have they recovered Galesbourne’s body yet?”

“No, they’re dragging the river, but nothing's been found up to now, they tell me,” Carlingford replied. “Righto!” said Hopton. “I'll come along at once.” He dressed himself, and having looked in at the Yard, made his way to Lambeth Police Station.

As his car turned into the street he found the bare-looking building surrounded by a huge crowd, while several fire engines were panting outside, and smoke was pouring from the lower windows. Hopton got out and spoke to a uniformed constable, holding up the traffic, who instantly recognised him and saluted. “What’s the matter, officer?” he asked in a low tone. "Station on fire?”

“Yes, sir,” replied the constable. “Inspector Carlingford’s had a narrow squeak this morning. His office was wrecked by a bomb, sir.”

"Good heavens! —I was only talking to him just now!” commented the astonished detective. “When did this happen?”

"About three-quarters of an hour ago,” answered the officer. “You must excuse me, sir, I’ve got my work cut out moving the crowd on.” "Right, officer, don’t worry about me.".smiled Hopton. as his informant, having saluted again, turned away and recommended his shepherding operations.

Forcing his way through the spectators, the detective at last saw Carlingford helping in the salvage work, and made his way towards him. “Hello, Hopton,” panted the Divisional Inspector, as his brother-officer carne up. “I’ve had a narrow escape this morning.” “Tell me what happened if you've got time.” "Well, just after you rang off I had a call from the Chief Commissioner ordering me to sbnd something to the Yard. I went to the safe in my office to get what he asked for, and immediately I tried to open the thing, realised the lock had been tampered with. I can’t imagine how the deuce anyone could have got the safe open while there was an officer typing in the next, room, but my window must, have been forced from the outside —it faces on to the street, you know, and the thief must have entered that, way."

I see,” nodded Hopton eagerly. “Go

"No sooner had I tumbled to the burglary than I dashed out to get help. The constable had just left the outer office, so I ran along the passage to the big room at the front of the building.” “I remember,” agreed the Detective. “The fact that 1 was at the other side of the building saved my life,” continued Carlingford. “For I hadn’t been talking to the clerk two minutes when there was a terrific explosion. There’s no doubt a time'-bomb had been placed there for the double purpose of killing me and destroying all evidence of the burglary.”

“And what was the thief after?” inquired Hopton. "What had you got in the safe?” “It’s another of these mysterious crimes, Hopton,” replied Carlingford. “The safe was packed with exhibits and papers connected with this- 'Ebony Torso’ case. I never had a chance to find out exactly what the thief had got away with, but anything he left was destroyed by the explosion, and the fire 'Which followed; you see, I left the door unlocked and open, and the whole room was wrecked.” “That means everything connected with the case has gone?" questioned Hopton bitterly. “Everything except the Torso itself,” replied Carlingford impressively. “Curiously enough, Sir Hallard Costi-. gan ordered it to be. sent to Scotland Yard late last night for examination. Scutt always said that infernal carving couldn’t be destroyed, and I’m begining to believe ne was right, the thing’s uncanny." “You still believe that supernatural stuff has got something ’to do with it?” asked the Scotland Yard man incredulously. “After a thing like that, I’m not such a fool as to rule out the possibility,” snapped the Divisional Inspector angrily. “I’m afraid mere coincidence won’t explain away such an extraordinary happening,” and turning his back pointedly on the sceptic, he continued his efforts to aid the firemen. CHAPTER VII.

For some days dragging operations were carried on at the point where Galesbourne had taken his last plunge into the river, but his body was not recovered. Meanwhile, it was discovered that the effects of the explosion, and’ the subsequent lire, had not seriously injured Lambeth Police Station; and Inspector Carlingford found, much to his relief, that, owing to the thickness of the walls, little damage had been done. Nothing furtner was heard of Hopton’s mysterious assailant and, whatever it was, it evidently felt the neighbourhood was too hot to hold it after its narrow escape. The Divisional Inspector was optimistic enough to prophesy that no further tragic occurrences would take place, and slowly relaxed his precautions as the days passed. Hopton, however, was still hard at work on the trail of the weird agencies in the district. As soon as he heard of the parson’s suicide, he at once called at the Vicarage for a chat to his servant, Mr Smith, but here again, he was presented with a new problem; the old man was also missing and no one had seen him.

The house was empty and Hopton and his men made a thorough search of the place, but found nothing incriminating with the exception of large quantities of burned papers in the study fireplace, as if the Vicar had destroyed a good deal of correspondence before leaving. It was at first suggested that Smith was looking for his unfortunate master, but when dayspassed and he never returned, Hopton put out an S.O.S. for him. His disappearance, coupled with the failure to find the Vicar’s body, merely strengtheel the Detective’s theory that Galesbourne was not dead at all, but had staged the suicide in order to put the police off the scene, and had disappeared, taking the old man with him. His efforts seemed doomed to failure whichever way he turned, for the Kensington station reported that Mrs Clara Abershaw had been living at 85 Marshfield Road, but had left without giving ■any address and that they were unable to trace her.

Hopton decided to investigate this statement personally; so he went down to Marshfield Road, and had a long chat with the missing woman’s landlady without adding much to his stock of information. He had left the house and was walking slowly when he was suddenly struck by an idea. It was a thousand to one chance, but it might be just possible she had left instructions with the postal authorities for the redirections of letters. He found a uniformed constable, who directed him to the nearest post office, where he introduced himself and stated his business. Rather to his astonishment, he ascertained the woman had filled in a form instructing that all parcels and letters were to be redirected to her, c/o. Mr Ikey Frost, .The Pets’ Shop, 106 Dockside Terrace, Rotherhithe.

Thanking the Postmaster for his trouble. Hopton returned to the “Yard," and, collecting a suit of dirtylooking rags which he used as a disguise when engaged on investigations in the poorer quarters of London, ordered the driver of his car to make for Rotherhithe Police Station. His inquiries concerning Mr Ikey Frost proved the old naturalist to be the most unsatisfactory character, for he had at least two convictions against him for receiving stolen goods. Evidently ho was a person worth watching, and the Detective put on his disguise, left the station, and made for Dockside Terrace, to keep the Pet’s Shop under discreet observation. (To be continued.)