"DEATH GOES BY 'BUS"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 22 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 XXII. Continued. “That, my dear Mr Smith, would be a serious offence. Murder is out of your line, unless I am greatly in error.'’ John Smith was bewildered. "Look here,” he exclaimed, "I’m about tired of your suggestions. First you as good as tell me I had something to do with the Wainwright business, and then you cut me out as a killer. Get .down to brass tacks.”

That advice wasn’t easy to follow, for Mr Sharpe was groping bindly in the dark, a state of affairs that always annoyed him. When the' cards were dealt he could play his hand against anybody, but this time he appeared to be concerned with a pack minus the court symbols. Luck came to his rescue while he was thinking out a suitable line of attack. Unceremoniously the door was banged upen and Jeremy Withers burst into the room. "They know about the gun,” he snapped. "Maxley got it out of me this afternoon and ” for the first time he noticed the presence of a third party. “Gawd!” he muttered, "that has torn it.” “Shut up,’ snapped Smith.

Mr Sharpe took up a strategic position with his back to the exit. "Don’t 4 be foolish,” be advised, “Now the cat l; is out of the bag, it would be as well . to explain how poor puss came to be in L it-” “Come off it.” “To put it bluntly, my friends, you're both in queer street unless you can clear up that little matter of the revolver. One of you is putting his head •’ into the noose.” j Jeremy Withers cracked first. “I r can stand any more,” he said brokenly. - "This ain’t in my line.’ "Keep your mouth shut,” menaced • Smith. ’ "No, I won’t. You got me into this a with your promises of easy money. Bej fore I met you I was straight—never did a wrong thing in my life.” Smith sneered. “Aren't you the I white-headed boy!” “Leave him alone,” said Mr Sharpe determinedly. "Honesty is going to be the best policy in the long run.” “This would never have happened if I hadn’t met that snake in a pub,” went on the youngster. "We had a oit to drink and got friendly. Then he ’ —he —suggested I should help him to — i to — “Go in for burglary! All right, you > needn’t bother about that part.” ! “Well, after a bit I said I would. ’ He’d picked the first place and I was supposed to keep watch while he did t the dirty work. Sounded simple, but ■ I must have been mad to have listened. I’d got a gun which I thought would ' do to frighten anybody if we looked ■ like getting caught. But Mr Smith wouldn’t hear about using it. As soon as I told him he took it away, and didn’t give it me back fo days.’ “Go on, that’s only an elaboration of what you told the police this afternoon.” “I couldn't confess I was planning to rob a house, and I didn’t mean to split on Mr Smith having the gun.” “You told them that?” burst in the crook furiously. “It couldn’t be helped. I’m not used to this sort of thing. They had it out of me before I knew it." “Right, kid, forget it. Serves me right for coming off the lone game. What a tough break!” “Sure,” agreed Mr Sharpe, finding this film-play atmosphere somewhat catching. “But you were wrong to keep it under your hat.” “Don’t be comic, mister. Think I don’t know a .33 when I see one, and that’s the calibre they’re after.” “Then you didn't know that Withers had the other gun as well?" “What, the rod that did the job?" “Exactly." “Come out of the way, I'm getting out of here.” Mr Sharpe did not budge. “Downstairs,” he exclaimed, "you’ll find a couple of policemen, told off to follow Withers. They’re hardly likely to have lost sight of him in this short space of time.” Smith turned a yellowish green, and the bus conductor subsided into a pitiful heap. “Streuth!” he whispered through his dry lips, “what am I going to do?” , "Come and face the music,” advised the little man. He opened the door and led the way to where Maxley and his companions were waiting. j CHAPTER XIII. Splashed right across the front page 1 of Morrison Sharpe’s breakfast-time newspaper was a revelation that stir- ’ prised him exceedingly. This was 1 nothing less than the report of an ar- ( rest in the “Motor Bus Murder." So f unexpected was it after the events of I the previous night that lie bestirred t himself to such effect that he was able to board the 8.47 train for Nether- 1 ton. i Refusing to take ’no" for an answer he positively thrust his way into the i presence of Superintendent Maxley. c who was. however, in such a good hu- 1 mour that he found the visit not en- \ tirely to his distaste. t “Come to congratulate us?" he inquired facetiously. "On the contrary. Your action is a '1 grave miscarriage of justice and I feel c it my duty to warn you so while there 1 is still time." f “We’ve had enough confirmation." a said Maxley. "And as you’ve become |I: sore of unofficially attached to the in-Is vestigations I’ll tell you why we acted. I f “Quite late last night a j was received from America. Here is ai t copy." | f

Morrison Sharpe took the paper which was handed to him, his face

very grave as he read the brief message.

“Smith, John, as described, believed wanted New York, suspected concern Bradham. Jewel robbery; posting further.” “Well?" he queried as he came to end.

“The' necklet found on Caleb Wainwright was part of the Bradham loot." Maxley explained. Furthermore we

found that the two men came over together on the Turbania. On the voyage, and for a time in London they were inseparable. Then they parted—or it seems more probable Wainwright cleared off with the swag. Smith followed, intent on getting back his share, or having revenge.” Mi- Sharpe waggled his head in agitation. “Afraid it doesn’t hang together,” he argued. “I built up that framework before and toppled it down again.

“Come and listen to the case in half an hour. It will not go beyond formal evidence of arrest.’ “Wouldn’t miss it for worlds.”

As they talked the little man had been scribbling on an official pad. Maxley noticed that this paper had been left behind and he wondered if it gave any indication of what the puzzle-expert thought of the latest move.

Examining it curiously the Superintendent found a childish scribble consisting of two vertical lines intersected by two equally spaced horizontal lines —nothing more than the fret of a game of “Noughts and Crosses.” Three cyphers were neatly drawn in, forming a dexter bend. Strangely enough, the player had not bothered to fill in any of the crosses.

The mind of Mr Sharpe had been Tunning on threes. He had set down the markings as a rough guide, pleasantly aware that the positioning signified the winning moves. Top left for Wainwright, centre for Smith, bottom left for Gardopoulos. Had Maxley left him out of account?

Sir Ellington Ellerslie, chairman of the bench, was a local landowner. Supporting him were Mr T. J. Greenly, Mrs Standish and Councillor Joseph Gregley. ft was a stuffy little court, built more in keeping with an atmosphere of scorching cyclists, speeding motorists and licenceless dog-owners than of murder. John Smith was brought into tho dock with a uniformed officer on each side. He hung his head as the charge was read over to him. That jaunty air of bravado had gone overnight. Superintendent Maxley gave proof of arrest. He related, at length, facts and assumptions arising out of the ownership and borrowing of the revolver. Often the magistrates interjected. Clearly they had difficulty in following all the suggestions. “I understand,” Sir Elllington remarked, “that the crime was committed with exhibit ‘a’?”

“That is so, your worship. Exhibit ‘b,’ you will notice, is a similar type of weapon, ''belonging to a witness I propose calling at a later stage. This man; a bus conductor named Withers, will tell you that he handed exhibit ‘b’ to the prisoner a few days before the crime. The police contenion is that exhibit ‘a’ was already in the possession of Smith, but that he intended to make use of the other weapon for the perpetration of his plan." “It is rather complicated, superintendent. Why not use the weapon he had —that is exhibit ‘a’?” “Because it could be traced to him. By a stroke of luck suspicion might be thrown on to another party.” “Very ingenious! Why, after all that planning, fall back on his own revolver?’

“That," Maxley remarked, “was due to an entirely unforeseen circumstance. Exhibit ‘b’ turns out to be nothing more or less than a toy. There is a gas escape near the explosion chamber and the barrel is almost solid. This might pass unnoticed for a time. I can assure your worships that this exhibit could never have fired a .33 bullet. After the adjournment, which I propose to apply for, the solicitor for the Public Prosecutor will deal with these facts at greater length.”

Sir Ellington signified his approval. “The Bench have no doubt grasped the meaning of your evidence,’ he stated. "Do you expect to have your case fully prepared by a week from today?" The Chief Constable here rose to say that they should be able to submit a prima facie case on that day. “Very well. Then I suggest anything further be withheld until then.”

Thus concluded the opening session, with the police firmly convinced they had solved one of the most baffling crimes of the age—and Morrison Sharpe muttering angrily under his breath about making fiction stranger than fact.

It was this observation that Sergeant Matthews overheard, and he stopped, with a murmured greeting. "Oh. it’s you. is it?" Mr Sharpe snapped. very different from his usual dreamy tone. "Such stuff and nonsense I’ve never heard. Your department will be the laughing stock of the country."

“Mr Maxley says . . .” "Damn Mr Maxley and what he says. That two gun work of his is balderdash. Withers had a revolver which he was going to use on a burgling expedition. He gave that to Smith and afterwards had it back. Nobody could have fired it on account of semi-solid barrel and gas-escape orifice. And that’s all. except for the jiggcry pokcry about getting rid of the incriminating evidence which was found in the bus ticket-box."

“Then where did the second gun come from?"

Mr Sharpe waved his hand airily. ‘■That," he retorted, "belonged to the murderer.'’ "Smith?" "Smith wouldn’t kill a fly. I've got my own theory which I'll keep to myself so long as you superior beings wander about with your noses in the air, and your Drains in your pockets.” With that ho stalked off, leaving the sergeant hesitating between indignation and amusement. The latter came uppermost, but possibly the former emotion would have triumphed had the worthy Matthews known that from 1 that moment the little solver of puzzles had set his mind on operating as a detective in direct opposition to the force. "I'll carry on in my own way and' make them a present of the real culprit," he promised himself. (To be Continued) .