DESIGN for BLACKMAIL

Waikato Times, Volume 125, Issue 20987, 14 December 1939, Page 7

DESIGN for BLACKMAIL

by F. L. MORRISSEY

Out Serial Story

CHAPTER XIII, (continued) “He didn’t write,” said the girl. “I heard nothing for a week and then, seven days after it had happened, I got the first letter. It was addressed to ‘G.G./ just like that one you have and it said it was written by a friend and that the man I had hit was dead all right, but that there was no need to worry. Nothing would be traced to me but I was to send £IOOO to a certain address and that this would straighten everything out ” “Very, very clumsy,” said McKnight. “You didn’t send the money?” “I couldn’t,” said the girl miserably. “I would have done, if I could—l would have done anything to clear myself from the awful thing, but what could I do to get £1000? Even my allowance was spent and the next quarter’s isn't due until October. Every day for five days letters came, gradually getting more threatening, and I ran away down to here and then yesterday another one came addressed to me here and I felt as though everything was over. Then last night that man—Powell—knocked at my door and showed me a paper with an address on it—it was the address where I should have sent the money and I was terrified out of my wits. I let him in and he began talking about the—night-club affair as though he knew’ all about it. Then he tried to make love to me and said that if I was good to him, I wouldn’t need to send any money. I cried for help and Tony—Mr Ewart, came. You seem to know the rest. That’s all I know of the whole business. Now you have the whole story, what are you going to do with me?” “This letter, Miss Gower; where was it when Powell came into your room?” “It was under my pillow. I didn’t miss it until this morning and then both letter and enevlope were missing.” “You kept all the letters and the envelopes, then?” “Yes, I kept them. I was afraid to throw them away.” “Yet the envelope from this one was not with the letter.” “I don’t know. When I put them under my pillow, I may have put them there separately.” “You did put them under the pillow—both of them, then?” “Yes, I remember that. But why are you' so insistent about this envelope? I tell you I have all the others to show you.” “Yes! Yes! Miss Gower, I know that. But don’t you see, I must have this envelope to compare with the others. Hasn’t it occurred to you that 'he first five letters were addressed to you at your uncle’s house—namely the address you gave this manager fellow. No mystery in that. But now—you suddenly come down to Deep Hollow and immediately a letter is addressed to you here. That argues a close knowledge of all your movements. How many people knew that you contemplated coming to Deep Hollow, Miss Gower?” The girl opened her eyes wide at his words and a fear that had lain in her subconscious mind ever since the ietter had reached her now sprang into her consciousness.

“Not a soul in the world knew I was coming down here. Outside of uncle and aunt, of course. I made up my mind suddenly to come—l wanted to get away from London. I stopped on the way to wire Helen —Lady Archerfield—but I got here before the telegram arrived.” “Seems to me there’s not much mystery attached to this,” put in Colhoun, bristling his moustache. “Here we have Powell, proved to be the blackmailer, proving it to Gerry by his knowledge of the address she was to send the money. He must have known she was down here or coming down here. He writes the letter and posts it to her.” “I wish it was as simple as all that,” sighed McKnight. “But you forget one little fact . . . namely that Powell was murdered and his body whisked away. No! Powell’s part, in the drama was only a small part. He’d be an agent, in all probability. That’s where he got his income from, I suppose. I haven t heard of him having any profession or job. There was no way by which he could have known you were coming here, Miss Gower?” “When I came down here, that was the first time I saw-him in my life.” “Well. Now, I’m very grateful for all this information, my dear young lady. I want you to hand over to me all the letters and envelopes you have received and stop worrying. In a very short time I’ll have this thing straightened out for you and your £IOOO will be intact. It’s a very good iob you hadn’t it to pay, for I see you would have paid it right off and then you would have been more firmly in their clutches than ever.” “But the man I . . . the man I killed . . . Pierre ...” “Don’t worry, Miss Gower. It d take a stronger arm than yours to kill that type of fellow. Besides te wasn’t killed. I can tell you that before I start. They’d have asked a dam sight more, than a paltry thousand if you had really killed the man and, anyway, we aren’t exactly asleep at Scotland Yard and we keep a rather wary eye moving on spots like the Silver Dragon. It would have come to my notice, don’t worry. ’ “That’s right, Gerry,” beamed Colhoun encouragingly. “Now you run along and forget all about it, like a good girl. I’ll come to your room for the letters later. And mind, don’t tell anyone else about all this ” “As if I would!” were her parting words as she left the room. “My word!”” exploded her uncle when he and McKnight were again alone. “To think of little Geriy beaning a crooner and thinking she d murdered him.” “I remember you telling me she was a little wild,” said McKnight. dryly and Colhoun coloured furiously. “You know what young people are these days,” he muttered. “Give ’em a bit of money they haven’t had to earn and they go to the devil. I 11 have to keep a much stricter watch over Gerry than I have done hitherto, though. X can’t have her getting herself notorious in London’s night spots. Simply wouldn’t do for the Commissioner’s niece to ’” “I think this little episode will about cure her,” was McKnight’s comment and he rose briskly to his teet and moved over to the bell. “What’s to do?” inquired Colhoun. “I’m off to London,” was the reply. “Oh! don’t worry, sir. I’ll be back tomorrow for the main job. But I must get this little affair straightened out right away. After all, this is what I came down here for, isn't it? j I've found out for you what’s been

worrying the girl, even if it took a murder to unearth it.” “By Gad, yes,” mused Colhoun. “I suppose you’re going to this Silver Dragon place to root out the nest of blackmailers?” “II the Silver Dragon is their nest.” He turned to the butler who had come in answer to his ring. “Look me up the next fast train to London and call me a car in time to catch , it” , . j “Will you be requiring any assist- | ance in packing, sir,” was Bates' j reply, and McKnight was sure that a flash of satisfaction had lit up momentarily the butler's eyes. “I’m not packing,” he said casu- i ally. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Any , objections?” The butler had recovered his poise and his lace looked bland astonishment. "Of course not, sir." and he per- : mitted himself a faint smile. “Going out of your way to be snotty to Bates?” inquired Colhoun. 1 when the man had slipped out of ; the room. “What’s he done to you ” j ; "Nothing, as yet,”’ replied the de- j tective grimly. “But, if I m not | : much mistaken, he has a part in our j little melodrama, as great, if not ■ greater, than that of the late lamented , Mr Hugh Powell.” I I “Good Heavens above, man,” I ejaculated Colhoun. “You don’t say so. Why, he’s boen with Archerfield for years. He couldn,’.*. have any- ! thing to do with all this.” ■ “Sure he couldn’t?” McKnight I went closer to his chief and drew : from his pocket an envelope whicn | contained the strand of rope he had fbund in the stone balustrade below j Bates’ window. In a tew words he 1 outlined his activities of the after- j noon and when he had finished Col- j houn gave vent to a prolonged J Whistle. “Good Heavens . . . Bates! 1 Archerfield will be cut up about this. I know he looks upon the man as his 1 right hand—has done for years. Dj i you think it was he who killed ! Powell?” ! McKnight shrugged his shoulders, j (To be continued)