The Girl at The Gables

Waikato Times, Volume 108, Issue 18140, 3 October 1930, Page 4

The Girl at The Gables

Serial Story 1

SYNOPSIS. ' Philomel Sutton, who lives with her ■ Aunt Amelia, sees an advertisement for 1 a lady chauffeur wanled by Mr. Martin Dreever, The Gables, Marshfield. ; In a mental hospital, in the West of England are two men who are great j friends, and have periodical attacks ! or insanity, but curiously enough j never at the same time. One is Reuben Dreever, who has been placed Ihere by his brother Martin; the other is James Bantry. 1 These two make their escape together. Reuben’s one Idea is to have his revenge on his brother Martin, who is a money-lender and miser. He is . known all over for his meanness and merciless treatment of his victims. The two men make their way to The Gables, and taking Martin prisoner, lock him up in a room on the fourth storey. Reuben then Impersonates his brother, taking his name, and lives at The Gables with Bantry. They advertise for a. lady chaffeur.

out of a bit of a hole?” lie smiled

CHAPTER IV. '(Continued.) Many an ostensibly rich young man found Martin Dreever a great help in time of trouble; and he, in turn, obtained introductions Which otherwise would have been unattainable. He held many confidences of the domestic life of his clients and made his dupes pay for , his secrecy. Among poorer people • also he had his agents, who worked on commission. In industrial communities tliese were usually women, who were ready to “oblige” others of their sex with confidential loans to be repaid in small weekly sums. . . “Your husband need never know, and you’ll never feel a shilling or two a week. Just pay what you like when you can, dearie!” The bait was readily taken by the victim, and for a temporary relief from a pressing debt she was saddled with a secret burden which- dragged her down probably for the rest of her life. Dreever demanded only a certain interest from his agents; they got what they liked from the dupe. On one occasion Martin Dreever narrowly escaped trouble with the police, and the incident gave him such a fright that ever afterwards he was most'careful to keep within the law. He was sitting, like a loathsome spider in , a web, in his well-furnished office near Bond Street, when a clerk knocked at the door of his room and said a gentleman wished to see him. “Has he an appointment?” asked Dreever, “He didn’t say, sir.” “Go and ask him, and tell him I never see clients without an appointment.” The clerk returned to say •' ' the gentleman had not had time give notice of his call, but would be extremely obliged if Mr Dreever would see him for about, two minutes. “Did he give his name?” “No, sir; he said he’d rather tell vou when he s.aw you.” “I don't know what some of these imagine I’m here for,” went on the moneylender. “Think they’ve only got to ask and I’ll be their fairy godmother. What’s he like?” “Young gentleman in a dress suit, sir. Looks as If he’d just oome from—” “Show him in!" “Good evening, Mr Dreever,” said the visitor, his young face flushed and an anxious, hunted expression in his eyes. He fumbled nervously in his pocket and drew out a visiting-card. . When Martin Dreever read it he almost gasped with astonishment. The name was one of the most famous In the country, if not in the whole civilised world—a name whose credit was boundless and whose wealth was a matter of common knowledge. In the usurer’s trade, however, suppression of emotion is one of the chief assets, and it was in a calm and noncommittal voice that he asked the young man the object of his visit. “Well, I’m in a frightful hole,” he said. “I—er—l was fool fenough to back a bill for a friend of mine, and as.he can’t pay, the chap who lent him the money has come on to me for it.” “Very foolish to guarantee another man’s debts.” “Yes, I know that now. But what can one do when a pal is in a hole?” Dreever shrugged his shoulders. “How much do you want to borrow?” “Five hundred pounds.”

“Can't lie done. I should want ample security, and unless you’d get your father to guarantee—” “Impossible! Absolutely impossible! (I was told you would do'it, otherwise I would not have come to you. I’ve got good., security.” ; “What is it?” The young man took a case from his pocket, and, opening it, showed- 1o the avaricious eyes of Martin Drcever a beautiful pearl necklace worth at least £5.000. “Who advised you to come to me?” he asked, as he removed the ornament and inspected each pearl carefully. “Well, that’s rather peouliar. When my pal told me he couldn’t pay up, I went to see the chap he had borrowed, from and explained the position. t told him I had no idea I was going to be let down like this, and asked him if couldn’t compromise, or wait, or something. ■ Finally, he told me he would give me until to-day, but if I didn’t settle up then he’d have to ask my guv’nor for it. Bit of a hardfaced devil* I think, but I suppose a bargain’s a bargain. Anyhow, I ,just thought of it as I was-getting ready to go out. I ought to have seen you before, as he wrote your name on a slip of paper for me ouite a week ago.” As he spoke the visitor handed the note to the moneylender. “Jolly decent of him after all, don’t you think? I'might not have known where to turn.” “Very," was Dreever’s brief comment, as he replaced the necklace in the case and opened the memorandum. The address printed at the head of the single sheet of notepaper was that of one of his own agents, thus proving the efficiency and zeal of the man appointed by him to that particular branch of the firm of Martin Dreever! “Well, I don’t know,” he went on slowly. “We don’t make a practice of taking things of this description as security. You see, there are so many imitations about and—” “That’s not imitation?" “Possibly not, possibly not. But you never know, and I’m not an expert in the jewellery line. Still, as you’ve been recommended to me fo” business, I’ll take ihe risk. lam a man of my word, and as I promised to help you in ■» i suppose it will lift you

BY HERBERT GALWAY and ANN NEVERN.

g (All Rights Reserved.) &

he put, the.trinket in the safe.‘Out of a positive cavern i" was the fervent rejoinder. “And I believe I can pay you hack the money in about another month.” “Don’t let that worry you too much." said the moneylender sympathetically, as he counted oiP the banknotes. “SoGong ..is you send the interest regularly you won’t fin 1 me too hard.”

As soon as the foolish young man had left the office, Martin Dreever look the precious necklace from the safe„-put it securely in an inner pocket and was soon speeding to Clerkenwell in a taxi.

He dismissed the driver at the Smithfleld corner of Cowcross Street and walked rapidly up St. John Street. Grossing Clerkenwell Hoad, he found himself in a labyrinth of mean streets. After many, devious turnings, which he threaded with a rapidity and ease born of long familiarity with the district, the moneylender darted down a moisome alley and tapped quietly on the grimy door of a little house witn half-shuttered dirty windows. The soiled curtains moved slightly, and the next moment a shirt-sleeved, tallow-faced man opened the door and invited the visitor to enter. . “I want these matched,” said Dreever shortly when the door had closed on them in a tiny workshop. “Matched 1” . the jeweller laughed. “Matched 1 You’d never And pearls like those anywhere.” “Well, you know what 1 mean. I wan’t ’em imitated so that they can’t be spotted easily.” “Oh, I can do that all right. When do you want ’em? It’ll take some time. You see I’ve got to fake each one.” "Soon as you can—a week, two weeks?” “Yes, say two. Come again in a fortnight and see if they’re ready. Got a And, haven’t you? More than ten thousand quids’ worth!” Martin Dreever smiled and put his Anger to his lip. “In a fortnight,” he said as he quietly left the shop and closed the door. , ! Peeling perfectly satisAed with the prospect of eventually substituting a false for the genuine pearl. necklace when the security should be redeemed, the moneylender was sitting in his West End office the next’ morning when the borrower of the previous day rushed into the room without any introduction.

Dreever sprang to his feet indignantly. “How dare you intrude Qn my privacy?” he blustered. “I’ll give the man the sack who let you in?” “That’s all right, old chap; the clerk isn’t to blame. I just blew in, that's all. It’s about that necklace. The mater’s missed it, and the guv’nor’s going quite batty over it. He wanted to ring up Scotland Yard and all that bally rot. Said cat burglars must have been in. Well, the poor old mater was in such a state—she wants ,to. wear it to-morrow —that I told "her 'all about it, except that I said I’d.pawned the pearls for Ave hundred. She nearly swore at me for being a fool and said they are worth more than ten thousand. Then she burst into tears and gave me a cheque for Ave hundred and told me to get ’em back at once, before the guv’nor knew I was a thief! I told her I only borrowed them, but she said that didn’t matter. Taking them was stealing. And I believe she’s right after all," he concluded with a Aush of shame. “I didn’t look at it like that. So here’s the cheque the mater gave me, and I’ll gladden her dear old heart by taking back the necklace. ! ’ Martin Dreever went pale, then green, and grasped the arm of his chair for support. “Want it back? Yes, yes; I’ll get it!” He went into an inner room to give himself time to think, but returned the next moment. “I And it’s been sent to the safe deposit,” he added. "Yes—the safe deposit—er. You can have it to-morrow.” “I must have it this evening without fail, otherwise I’m sure Scotland Yard will be put on It. Can you send for it?" “Yes, of course—yes. I’ll go for It myself. Can you call back in—say an hour or so?” The young man consulted his watch. “It’s now eleven. I’ll come back at twelve o’clock." As soon as he could, Martin Dreever hurried to the Bond Street tube station and in a few minutes was whirled away underground to the station in Newgate Street. Emerging like a rat. from his burrow, he half walked, half ran along King Edward Street and Little Britain into the great SmithAeld Square, his brain hammering like the working of a thousand pistons. Supposing the jeweller had' sent away the necklace? he wondered as he panted through the huge arch and up St. John Street. Suppose it had been lost? Suppose that young man’s father had already appealed to Scotland Yard? The thought made him shiver as with ague, and crossing Clerkenwell Road his knees threatened to give way under him. Martin Dreever dreaded the police with an unreasoning terror. If that necklace were lost, he could see himself sentenced to a long term of imprisonment, and his business ruined.

He was breathless when the dingy door was opened In response to his agitated knocking, and the tallowfaced man became paler still when he saw who the visitor was. The moneylender pushed, unceremoniously by him into the dirty passage. “That necklace!” he panted. “I —want—it. I-lavc you got it?” “In a hurry, ain’t yer? I ain’t started it yet." “I want the- thing itself. Never mind the job. That’s off. Scotland Yard’ll'be after both of us if I don’t take it back now!" “So you did pinch it, after all, then?” “Come on! , Don’t argue! B-ring it out! If it isn’t hack in the hands of the owner inside Ihe hour it’s all U.P. with both of us!" “Not both of us,” said ihe man as he took the case from a safe at the hack of the workroom. “One of us, p’raps, but it wouldn’t be me. ‘lt would be—” While he .was speaking, Martin Dreever had grabbed the packet and was rushing down the street as though a thousand fiends were in pursuit. “The devil!” murmured the jeweller as lie watched the flying figure, "it wouldn’t surprise me if lie was hopping with it now and been selling me a pup about. Scotland Yard. Wish I’rl got the other made in lime. You could have whistled for your neck-

lace then, Mister bloomin’ Dreever and taken the consequences. They’d never have got me?” The precious trinket was returned to the owner by the specified time, and no police action was taken; but the facts gradually. leaked put, and Martin Dreever found his West End business becoming less and less, until Anally he was obliged to close it down altogether. He had suffered such a fright through the likelihood of a public prosecution that he decided to - retire to his home at MarshAeld and carry on his sordid pursuits in a subterranean fashion and with the minimum of publicity. His insidious net was still spread, but the spider was no longer visible, and the unsuspecting victims were caught by his numerous agents only from among the poorer classes.

CHAPTER V. When she arrived on that memorable evening of her Arst excursion into the world as a wage-earner, Philomel Button felt an acute sense of loneliness. Bhe was the only passenger, and as she stood undecided on the pavement outside the little station, she had no Idea which way to turn for her dest'nation. • After waiting,some time In vain In the hope of a resident chancing to visit the station, she returned to the booking-office and asked the clerk through the little opening if he could give her any idea where The Gables was. “It’s a house, you know,” she smiled, as an excuse for not asking .where The Gables were. The booking-clerk', however, had no such ridiculous doubts. “Jim!” he called to someone inside, “young lady here wants to know where The Gables is. Do you know?” “I know well enough.” was the reply, “but what on earth can any young lady want with—” The voice ceased abruptly, evidently in response to a warning signal from the clerk. “The young lady’s waiting." resumed the latter. “Will you go round?” The next moment a porter came, through a door at the side. He Aushed with embarrassment as he saw Philomel’s wide-opened' inquiring eyes.

“Is it you that’s wanting The Gables,'Miss ?” “Yes, please,” was the reply as the girl Aashed a smile which made the young porter blush still more. "I’ve never been here before, and if you could only tell me in which direction it lies and how far—” “Certainly, Miss. It’s only about a mile, up to the left here,” he Interrupted, walking to the door and pointing along the country road. "I’m sorry you’ll have to. walk. The last market carrier went about an hour ago. But you can’s mistake it; it’s the Arst big house you come to, and there isn’t another one near it for about half-a-mile," “Thank you,” smiled Phil as she started briskly up the road. Impelled by some sudden impulse, she hesitated, then went quickly back to the porter, who stood watching from the station door, , “I wish you’d tell me," she began, “why you were surprised that anybody should want to call at The Gables. I was close enough to overhear what you said inside the office, and although it may seem rude, I’d be glad if you would tell me something about this place.” 1 (To be continued).