MYSTERY AT MANBY HOUSE

Waikato Times, Volume 128, Issue 21367, 11 March 1941, Page 3

MYSTERY AT MANBY HOUSE

By PETER MANTON

1 CHAPTER Xl—(continued) ; “Urgent as that?” asked Pike. He leaned over Draper’s pitiful body, and Arden swore to himself when ne , saw lh e injuries. “Hmm! looks like. Where's the nearest surgeon?” Horn lifted his shoulders helpless- : lyj “Three miles across country, but he f can’t get here.” | “Hmm!” said Pike again, and ; chewing more quickly tnan ever, j “Well, the arm’s got to come off. Nothing else for it, and if it isn’t ! done quickly it’ll be the finish of the poor guy. Looks a job ter you, j Horn.” This time Court took notice, and swivelled round. “Mr Horn? Are you a doctor?” “I’ve had medical training,” Horn said slowly. “I’m not qualified for a thing like this, but ” “You gotta cool head for this kind of thing?” demanded Jonathan Pike of Inspector Court, and Court looked as though he would like lo burst out in a torrent of abuse. Just as Court got under Bill Arden’s skin, so did Pike react on the Chief Inspector. “I can manage, yes.” “That’s dandy,” said Jonathan Pike. “C’m’ on, Arden.” He gripped Bill’s forearm. Bill hesitated, his eyes on Horn, who nodded. Court seemed tempted to follow them from the room, but he decided to stay with Horn and the injured Draper. Arden was thinking of the swinish job Horn had to do: but it was devilishly lucky he could tackle it. As he reached the passage and they went downstairs, his mind began to work more clearly. The bombing and the victim of it had temporarily driven everything else from his mind. Now he was remembering vividly the droning of the aeroplane, the little round bombs that nad come down—and the fact that it had followed close on the heels of Jonathan Pike. They reached the drawing room. From the dining room next door came the smell of the fried haddock, left without a cover when Clark had for once lost his self-control. He had been in the room when the explosions had come. Pike swivelled round. ‘‘lhat smells good,"’ he said, “and I can eat.” “Eat—after that!” Pike’s hand, lean and bony, tightened about Arden’s shoulder. “Son, there’s worse things to see. A fella that’s starved to death don’t look so good, and those that don’t eat, starve. Jerk out of it. This is a Balluzzi game, and a lot worse can happen, be’lieve me.” Arden’s frown disappeared in an expression of surprise. “Balluzzi! How the devil ” “Do I know? I know a lot of things,” said Jonathan Pike with a quick smile that showed his big, yellow teeth for the first time, “and I’ll tell you some of them while we 2at. Suggest you ring for the butler, Dr maybe a maid, but we’ll help ourselves to fish. They called you Master William?” Bill brushed his hands through lis hair. He told himself that he should ‘eel differently, but with Pike standng there and helping himself to fish, smiling a little and completely selfDossessed, made him feel steady, and teknowiedge the fact that he was

hungry. The picture of Draper’s broken body and the grim task Horn had taken on faded. “They did.” “That means you’re Bill Arden?” Bill took a plate with fish to the table, to find grape-gruit was waiting. He pushed the fish on one side, while Pike treated the grapefruit with disdain. “You’re well-informed, my friend.” Pike grinned, baring his teeth again. “I have to be. And you’re the nephew of Sir Nicholas, naturally bursting to hone in on this affair, for family honour. And what have you?” Pike poised a fragile lump of fried turbot on his fork. “Boloney. Forget it.* Go and do some more hunting, Arden. It’s safer, and you’ll be more use there, anyway. And listen, buddy, don't start getting hot under the collar, eat your breakfast and think straight.” He was talking evenly, and without the slightest embarrassment. “I know this game, and I'm telling you what s good for you.” Arden’s cheeks were flushing; it was easy to understand why Jonathan Pike wasn’t popular. “You talk a lot,” he said. “Perhaps you’ll explain what you’re do- = ing here, and why you came? Well?”

(To be continued)