"DEATH GOES BY 'BUS"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 16 November 1939, Page 10

"DEATH GOES BY 'BUS"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. COPYRIGHT.

BY

LESLIE CARGILL

(Author of “The Yellow Phantom,” “The Arrow by Night,” etc.)

CHAPTER VII. Continued. Maxley had gone on to the fresh tack introduced •by the mysterious disappearance of the revolver. From the extracted bullet it was believed to be of an old pattern of .33 calibre. li Winslow had been the culprit, he must have disposed of the incriminating object immediately after" the crime. That limited the scope of operations. “Not a stone has been left unturned,’ the Superintendent said. “I mean that literally. Every hedge, tree and bush had been beaten until I am almost prepared to swear that the firearm isn’t there.” “Then there must be a third party?’ “Exactly. We’ll put the passengers on the carpet again.” Even the schoolboy had to submit tc rigorous examination. Then came Mi and Mrs Wyllie and Miss Hanson Little was added to that alreadj known.

Gardopoulos had gone back to London They went to the address he had givei at Ilford, where a slatternly woman opened the door. “My husband has gone to town on business,” she told them. “Your husband?’ “Yes. why not? I am a respectable woman.”

“Of course, wo can see that. Btr we didn't know Mr Gardopoulos was married.”

“More’n five years, and happily too although I says so.” “I congratulate you,” said Maxley tactfully. “You’re fortunate in having, a man like Gregor.” “So he’s a friend of yours. Sorry, gentlemen, to keep you waiting on the doorstep. Please come inside.” They followed her into a room which was startingly out of place in view oi her appearance. Furnished almost luxuriously, it contained several exotic pieces of South European origin. “Gregor is Greek, you know,” Mrs Gardopoulos observed. “We get a 10l of stuff from his home. I was bbrn English, and proud’ of it.” “With every right, madam.”

“Yes. They tell me I’m not English any more because I’ve married a foreigner. Lot of rubbish. Mind you foreigners are all right. I meet a lot of them. They come on business often and sometimes as friends of Greg.” “Mostly Greeks?" “Oh, no, all sorts! Americans ’ . . . like poor Mr Wainwright.”

Maxley started, but quickly controlled himself. “Who is he—in the same line of business?” “You mean currants! No, I don’t think so. He’s dead now. Didn’t you read about it in the papers? Happened on a motor bus at a place called . . Nether something-or-other.”

“Netherton! Yes. I’ve seen some mention. So you knew the unfortunate fellow?”

“Fairly well. Greg brought him home about three weeks ago for the first time.” “An old friend?”

“Not to my knowledge. Business was what they talked about, though I don’t know what sort.. My husband doesn’t tell me much, and I don’t ask questions.” "He musf*have been cut up when he read about the affair?"

She smiled slighthly. "You're wrong there, he didn't see it in the papers. When 1 told him it was in print he knew all about it.”

“How strange!” “Not really. You see they were together when it happened.” There was a note of gruesome pleasure in her voice. “Greg was calling on some Midland customers and Mr Wainwright went with him as a sort of a holiday trip.” “A pleasant scheme.”

“Not in view of the shooting.” “No, that must have shocked Mr Gardopoulos. I wonder he didn't refer to the harrowing experience.” “You don’t know what Greg’s like at home, or you wouldn’t expect him to.” Having exhausted the woman's possibilities the two men made their ex,cuses and promised to call at the Lon>don ofTicc. As they went towards the door there was a ring at the bell. "Excuse me a moment,” she apologised, and left them standing in the hall. "I should like a word with Mr Gardopoulos." said a quiet voice. Before she could reply, Matthews moved forward, closely followed by Maxlcy. There, in the opening, stood

Morrison Sharpe. CHAPTER IX. Unruffled serenity was the outs(anding characteristic of Mr Sharpe. Rarely did he indulge in excitement. Since the crime he had been unusually temperamental. Chess, crosswords, hidden names, anagrams and other solaces no longer kept him quiet. He knew exactly what was the matter. It was as if somebody had torn from him a partly completed puzzle, depriving him of the satisfaction of finishing the solution. Matthews had kept out of his way since the inquest, and the newspapers were too much occupied with another European crisis to devote appreciable space to a case already regarded as finished except for the formal verdicts. Driven to speculation. Mr Sharpe invented several ingenious explanations founded in a form of blindfold chequers in which he opponent moved under cover, but he was discontented with his progress. Taking pencil and paper, he scrawled some unreadable hieroglyphics which he studied so intently that it was well after midnight before he went to bod. That was a, mistake, because he had intended to) catch an early train t n St Pancras.

(To be Continued)

Naturally, he overslept, so that it was late afternoon when he arrived at Ilford. Grinning cheerfully at the presence of the Netherton men. he accepted Mrs Gardopoulos's apology for the absence of her husband then waited cutside until Maxley and Matthews joined him. “Why are you here?” snapped the Superintendent suspiciously. “For the same reasons as yourselves. I imagine.” "Impossible!” “I should have been before you had I not overslept." Maxley stared incredulously. “1 don’t believe it,” he exclaimed. "Then correct me if I’m wrong. Wainwright and Gardopoulos were friends. Originally they travelled north together. Then there was a quarel and they refused to recognise each other. Thinking it would be awkward to explain the Greek pretended he had never seen the dead man . . "We hadn't got as far as that,” remarked the Superintendent. Sharpe chuckled. "Even that does- . n’t surprise me. I suggest that your present state is one of suspicion, with our friend the currant importer as the central personage. Your reconstruction of the crime portrays him as seizing the convenient chance of the engine noise to execute a little private vengeance." "You’re not a detective," complained Maxley, irrelevantly. “Officially, no, but I’ve appointed myself one for the duration of this case. I hope we shall co-operate harmoniously.” “Go to hell." was the ungracious response. Mr Morrison Sharpe did not descend into the nether regions, unless the Thames dockside districts merits so harsh a description. Refusing to be snubbed, he tacked himself on to the expedition of inquiry and was present when they walked into the little office designated by an impressive title of “Mediterranean Products, G. Gardopoulos—lmporter and Merchant. - “You really must refrain from interfering.” warned Maxley, with a portentous frown. “Don't bother about me.” “Obstructing an officer in the course of . . .” “Really, that is unfair. I am only trying to assist.’ “If I’m not out of order,” Matthews exclaimed, "I think this gentleman's presence would not be regretted. He’s got a helpful mind.” “That is something I hadn’t noticed. Have it your own way. But I warn you that you'll be in a jam if you don’l watch your step.” Gregor Gardopoulos had been schooling himself for some such visit. Although he turned a pasty grey beneath his olive skin, he kept a steady eye. and answered each question with apparent honesty. Yes, he was ready to admit that he

had misled the police. Caleb Wainwright was a business associate in a way. They had often had dealings together. “Why did you say you had never seen him?” “I was a lettle frightened.” “About what?” “We had fallen out. Someone he shoot and kill my once friend. 1 think they say I did it?" “And didn't you?’ “Ah! So you try to put the blame. That was what I think. It is false — untrue—a lie.” "You had better be careful,” Maxlcy gave warning. "Anything you say may be used in evidence.” “1 am under the arrest. H'n?” “Not at present. This is an inquiry. If you can give a satisfactory explanation everything will be all right. Otherwise . . ." he broke off meaningly. “You give me the threat. I say nothing now until my lawyer comes." Maxley answered soothingly. “That may not be necessary, sir. Nobody is, accusing you of anything. You will help us and also yourself by keeping nothing back. Do 1 make mysdlf clear?” “Perfect, sir. I tell you what I know. Take it down and use it as you wish. Here is pen and paper.” How Mr Sharpe came to be acting as secretary neither Maxley nor Mat-

thews ever knew. The little man snaked his.way into the vacant chair at the table and he was setting down the statement as to the manner born. But the Greek had already begun, and it would have disturbed his eloquence to have interrupted. “Mi' Wainwright he see me on a selling lino. 1 do not wish to buy. but he follow me home and on the train. I tell him to leave me alone, but ho will not. Then 1 say something that makes him vair' angry. We do not speak more. On the motor there is no talking. He sit one place and me another. "Then there comes the shoot, which I did not do, and soon the police arc asking questions I do not care to answer. So I say 1 have never seen nim before and when I go home my wife she hears nothing of the affair until it is in newspapers. "Tiny do not want me for the inquest. so 1 hope it is all right. Then 1 am accused. I do not know who fired the gun. It was not me.” From that testimony he would not budge. "Where,” he was asked, "did Mr, Wainwright come from?” “Last from the Continent. Germany and Belgium." "I mean what nationality was he?” "Australian, I think." "Not American by any chance”"