MYSTERY AT MANBY HOUSE

Waikato Times, Volume 128, Issue 21368, 12 March 1941, Page 5

MYSTERY AT MANBY HOUSE

BY PETER MANTON

CHAPTER XII. 1 Pike went on eating, quite unper- i turbed by the grimness in the otner’s ' “Sure. I expected you to ask that, | but it doesn’t stop me repeating j good advice, buddy. It’s strong ' meat, and i “when I want your advice I might i ! usk tor it,” said Arden, controlling • i himself with an effort, j Pike raised his brows, i “Okay, fella. It’s your funeral, J 1 don’t say 1 wasn’t ready to help you. i j You want to know why I'm here? j j Know who I am, by any chance?” ; “Horn told me a bit.” “Hm! He’s not a big talker, that ■ ! might mean anything. Well, I’m in J j news as you’ll know, and preferably .in crime news. And that doesn t 1 mean when there’s a murder I jump i |to it. Best way to get on the insiae ! i of a murder racket,” said Pike, wav- j ing his fork wildly, “is before it j happens, son. Sometimes you can, j I sometimes you can’t. I ” ! The door opened abruptly, and a j i white-faced maid appeared. Pike j swung the fork round towards her i and went on as though he had not j chosen an entirely different subject. ! “Bacon, and plenty of it, you can bring it in.” ; He glared at the girl and she was ; colouring as she left the room. | “Supposing,” suggested Bill slow- | ly, “you remembered it was someone else’s house, Pike?” Pike's eyes appraised him swiftly “Yours, huh?” j “Never mind who’s.” “Don’t start getting high-horse,” , implored Pike. “I’ve had a tough | - morning, and it’s thirty-six hours j ! smce I knew what sleep was.” He : paused, as though waiting for the in- . formation to sink in. Arden would have been surprised had he known that it was the nearest thing to an apology' that Pike had uttered in twelve months. “That might explain something.’' Bill said. He was undetermined yet whether to take unction at Pike’s ; manner, or to treat him in as cavalier a fashion as he appeared to treat i everyone else. Time would tell ; which was the wiser. ! “Huh! I was saying, get on a mur--1 der case before it happens, and there you are. Waal—” he grew nasal deliberately, Bill suspected—“Fii’st 1 ’ learned Balluzzi was coming to England. I told Arundel ” “Who’s lie?” Pike lifted both hands in mock despair. “Where have you been burying : yourself? Arundel is a Chief Inspector of the most holy of holies, Scot- : land Yard and the C.I.D. Bill’s all right,” added Pike with a grin. “A bit stodgy and slow, but what can you ! expect? Anyway, Arundel said biige. ; Balluzzi couldn’t get into England, the net’s too tight. Well, Balluzzi j got in. I saw him with my own ■ eyes at Simmo’s, and I don’t let my S eyes make mistakes for me. 1 kepi i close to Balluzzi. I even visited I the gentleman, to learn that he was ; sending a brace of his legions after Manby. Later he sent Brandt after the secretary cove. Did he get 1 him?” Arden nodded. Pike brooded for a moment, and finished his fish. Bill was making reasonable progress with his meal. “So-ho. Balluzzi’s the boy for getting what he wants. You gotta hand it to him, son!” Pike’s grin, fleeting and not mirthful, came again. ! “Well, as soon as I learned it I startied for here. ’Phoned Manby first.” Bill waved a hand, muttered something with his mouth full, and then managed: “What time was that?” “Waal—something around twelve.” Arden leaned back. So that exj plained the mysterious telephone j call that the police were so anxious I to trace. He doubted whether Court | would be pleased to know that he i could trace it now. ! Then, for the first time, Bill had j doubts us to the genuineness of Jonathan Pike. j Was the man all that he claimed? I A free-lance crime-reporter? Or did !he know more than he prolessed? | Was there something he was holding ! back? Alter all, if there were papers at Manby House that the mysterious Balluzzi wanted, wasn’t Pike just the man to get them? The papers, Bill reasoned, had been ! the cause of the attack on Anne Wilson. On the other hand, Brandt . had said nothing about them. And--I Bill grinned widely, and Pike 1 stared. “What’s biting you, son?” i “It needn’t worry you,” said Bill, | and he was wondering what the | crime-reporter would have said had j he known what had been in his mind ! But Arden had just realised the bomb-throwing episode rather cani celled out any suspicion that Pike j ; was not straight. | j “It needn’t, needn’t it?” growled ' I Pike. “All right, Mister Arden, ; i What’s the worry about the call?” : ! Bill explained, and Pike chuckled. “I didn’t hear the radio, I was ton i busy last night. As a matter o' j 1 fact,” added Jonathan Pike heavily, j and leaning across the table to- i wards Arden, “you’re lucky to have j me, my friend, and I don’t mean maybe.” i “It’s a matter of opinion,” said Bill cheerfully. j , Pike’s scowl was more than hall j i affectation. “I’m beginning to take to you, big ! ! boy. Lucky I said and meant, be- j i cause I was crazy enough to let Bal- ! luzzi know I had been around. He j put a call out for me, and his dogs | ; ran me to a hole. I had to keep ; to it for a few hours, and when I j 1 poked my nose out I learned that ; Balluzzi had started in his usual way/ j i He'd made the first step ” l Arden was feeling very grim. “The first murder? But why should J Balluzzi want to kill my uncle?” . “The answer,” said Mr Jonathan 1 Pike, “is boddle. Filthy lucre, j Money. That's all Balluzzi ever does anything for. He ain't got no J heart and he ain't got no conscience, : but he's gotta wife who can spend a billion grand quicker than you can j look outa the window, and so ’ .