"DEATH GOES BY 'BUS"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 17 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 IX. Continued. “He told me he was an Australian.” “Had he ever been in America to your knowledge?” Gardopuolos hesitated. “lie big business man and travel to many parts of the world,” he said evasively. “Come, sir. a straight answer please. Yes or no!” “Recently?” “Before he was in Germany. I think he went to Berlin from New York.” “For any particular reason?” “Mr Wainwright did not tell me his private affairs. It is a good route by Hapag to Cuxhaven.” “But a long way round." remarked Maxley. “The liners for North Germany call at Southampton. Your friend was performing a complicated zig-zag pattern over half the globe.” “He have many selling lines.” “All right. Leave it at that. Do you know anything about the valuable diamonds he was carrying?” “Why should I. Mr Policeman?” “That might be the ’selling line’ you spoke about!” “I do not deal in stolon property,” returned Gardopoulos thoughtlessly, and realised he had said too much almost before the sentence was completed. Maxley pricked up his cars. His nostrils quivered ludicrously, like those of a bloodhound “picking up." “You knew, then, that they were stolen?” he inquired cautiously. “N-no, I guessed they were.” “What made you think that?” “Because Caleb Wainwright was a crook. I ’ave known that for years.” “Has he ever been in the hands of the police?” asked the Superintendent hopefully. “I do not think so, in England—never. In the United States —yes.” They were getting warm. With the international system of exchange of records it should now be possible to find out a great deal about the mysterious Mr Wainwright. For the time being Gardopoulos could be left in peace. No grave evidence could be found against him. Being on nonspeaking terms with a crook could hardly warrant interference with his liberty. “Keep in touch with us,” the Superintendent said as a parting shot.” We may want you one of these days.” “I do not run away,” retorted the Greek icily. “There’s something else I intended to do,” said Superintendent Maxley, from his corner of the North-bound express. “Anything important?” asked Matthews. “More or less. I was going to have a few words with that commercial traveller, who was on the bus." “Huntley Young?" . “That's the man. Works in London I understand.” “No, superintendent, only for a London firm . . .Sillingway and Marlowe, you know. Probably he’s out 'on the road’ now.” “Never mind, we can’t stop the train. But I wish I’d called at the London office.” From somewhere came the barely audible comment of Morrison Sharpe. “Perhaps I can ease your mind. I called there myself before coming on to Ilford.” Superintendent Maxley pulled a wry face. “You think of everything,” he said sourly. “Did they tell you where their representative was to be found?” “Unfortunately, no! You see he vanished the day after inquest.” “And you said you could ease my mind. Why, that's the toughest break we’ve had so far. You should have told us before.' :“I wasn't asked. Besides I'm not supposed to be a detective at all.” “Hold me back before there’s another murder,” groaned the superintendent. CHAPTER X. There was an important conference of responsible officials at Netherton Police headquarters to which Mr Morison Sharpe was not invited, which was a pity, for he could, no doubt, have suggested to the gathering many promising lines of inquiry. Major Martinshawe. with al) the authority of Chief Constable, addressed the gathering on the importance of es-prit-de-corps, and the necessity for upholding the highest traditions of the Force. As the irreverent Matthews said afterwards, he was only prevented from extolling the virtues of button polishing by the fact that the Netherton Force was equipped with the latest chromium-plated decorations that required no further attention. After this peroration he came down to earth with a futile summary of the affair on the Colborough road. "Il has been suggested to me.” he pointed out, "that Scotland Yard should be called in. You all know what that means.” They did. On the other hand, failure would be passed on with added emphasis. Captious critics would demand to know why mere local Bobbies had wasted time instead of applying at once for assistance to the finest detective organisation in the world. “We're prepared to shoulder the responsibility," Maxley announced. Martinshawe hummed and hawed. His own reputation was at stake. "Are you sure it isn't too much for us?" he asked timidly. Unwillingness to make up his mind was an outstanding characteristic. “Leave it to my department, sir!" i “Very well! Arrange a plan of cam-1 paign and we will confer.” I Civic pride was satisfied. The Superintendent had ideas and he wanted) to hand over smaller matters to his underlings while he devoted his whole

attention to the bus murder. Matthews was to remain with him.

Providing success rewarded his efforts he was going to reap great credit. Matthews was a mere Sergeant. Perhaps there would be crumbs coming his way. First of all, Huntley Young must be traced. That seemed simple enough on the surface; actually it introduced awkward complications. The man had every right to keep out of the way. Until the resumed inquest he was not officially "wanted.” Granted that me circumstance of his departure was highly suspicious there was nothing to connect him with the commission of the crime.

"If we send round his description,’ argued Maxley, "the Press will scent a hot story.” "Surely publicity would be valuable,’' Mathews remarked. "In running him to earth it undoubtedly would. Don't you see, though, how everyone would take it?" "You mean he would be immediately suspect. Does that matter?" “Yes it does. So far as we arc concerned he is free to come and go as he chooses. Posting him as missing is as good as asking for an arrest. Officially we don’t even know he’s gone.” “You checked Sharpe’s story."

"Of course. And found it correct, confound him. Personally I’d rather have been kept in the dark until the Coroner called him as a witness. Then, if he didn't come forward, Dr Ambrose could issue his own warrant on a technicality.” "Then what arc you going to do?” “Leave him for the time being. Meanwhile I'm going to borrow that bus and reconstruct the crime on the spot.”

Ordinarily the procedure would have been almost a matter of course, but the scene of the crime made it quite uunusual. No difficulty was experienced in getting the vehicle. It had been placed on one side, under seal, while the case was under consideration. They even got hold of the original driver and conductor. Apart from these two witnesses the intention was to set out marked cushions to represent the other travellers.

Mr Morrison Sharpe got back into the picture through a sheer coincidence. They happen in real life more often than story-tellers dare say.

It was a little matter of mathematics that detained him that morning. Working it out at last he toddled to the station. Except for a change of porter the formula was almost identical. “Train’s gone . . .” “Half an hour ago,” finished Mr Sharpe for him. “I’ve heard that before. I’ll catch a bus, and I trust it will provide me with a less eventfid ride than on a recent occasion.”

“Yes sir!" agreed the railwayman, scratching his head uncomprehendingly. Two vehicles were standing where only one was customary. Recognising a familiar object, Mr Sharpe made for it and began to clamber aboard. “This is private," called out Jeremy Withers. “You'll have to take the one in front.”

He-was turning away when Matthews hailed him. “Good morning, sir. What are you doing here?" “Oh, a little matter of a missed train. I do it so often that it would save time if I omitted calling at the station, only I suppose if I set out with the intention of catching a bus I'd be bound to miss it.”

Matthews grinned. “Pleasant trip—and keep out of mischief.” “Wait a second,’ came the command of Superintendent Maxley. “If you're in no hurry you may be rather useful.”

“My time is my own. And I’m always glad to help." “Fine, sir. We’re going over the ground of the crime as accurately as possible. Would you come with us?” "With pleasure. So it is what is called ’a reconstruction,’ 1 believe. I hope you have got it correct up to now?” “Why, we haven't started yet. The Tuesday bus was timed out at 9.30 and it wants another five minutes." “Sorry, Superintendent, but you've got it wrong." •“Nonsense. The time table says so and the company confirms it. According to my information it went off punctually." . “Yes, I know. But, you see, it didn't start from here. You should have commenced at 8.45 from Bellham.’’ Maxley looked blank. “I didn't know that.” “Oh, yes. Half an hour’s run is missing. There’s a wait in Netherton of fifteen minutes.” "Well, it doesn’t matter now. Between here and Netherton was the crucial part of the journey." “Maybe so—maybe not. For instance, out mislaid acquaintance, Mi' Young, came the whole way, didn’t he. Withers?” The conductor started. “Why, so ne did, sir. I recollect him getting on.” "Why didn't you say so before?" Matthews asked. "Because nobody asked me, Sergeant.” “But he told me he stayed the night at Netherton." Mr Sharpe sighed ostentatiously. "A pity," he murmured, “that psycho-an-alysis isn't included in the training of police officers. If it was, you'd have spotted he was lying when he described his morning for our benefit on the occasion of that little memory test.” . "It seemed to me a very fine feat." “Too fine —like a man inventing a pretty little yarn with plenty of local colour.” “You seemed satisfied at the time?" (To be Continued) .