MYSTERY AT MANBY HOUSE

Waikato Times, Volume 128, Issue 21374, 19 March 1941, Page 10

MYSTERY AT MANBY HOUSE

BY PETER MANTON

CHAPTER XV. They knew it would be touch and go. The gunman was sheltering behind the hedge where they were crouching. Neither of them were armed, and if the man moved round so that he could fire directly on them they would be finished. And if they moved, to show themselves The girl wasn’t trembling, but her face was very pale. There was silence, heightened after the shots, and then a rustling, as though a man was moving. Bill took his arm away. “Stay here, I ” Her lingers clutched his wrist very tightly. “You mustn’t move!” “Someone’s got to,” snapped Bill. He took his arm away, and moved a few inches from the bank. That rustling was coming closer every second. They had the dreadful feeling that another shot might come. The girl’s eyes searched the other side of the road. Bill reached up, snapping a piece of bramble off a lower branch. It was thick but light, useless as a cudgel, but something that looked like a weapon. The rustling was very close now— Bill saw the rifle. It flashed through his mind that a man was crazy to use a Winchester at that short range. He craned his neck upwards all the time, seeing the barrel move. Just above it was the top of a Trilby hat. The barrel was poking downwards, as though the man was preparing to rake the road beneath him. And if he did the girl must get hit. Shouts were coming from the house, and the thudding of footsteps. Bill Arden knew the man had only seconds to work in—and suddenly he jumped upwards, sweeping round with the stick in his hand towards the barrel. It was perilously near suicide, and for a moment he was afraid that he would fail. There was the slight click as the man up there moved the gun, and then the stick hit the barrel, pushing it to one side. As it went flame streamed from it, and the bullets began to hum. But they were biting uselessly into the opposite hedge, the barrel was wobbling to and fro

Bill leapt up and grabbed it. The barrel was warm, but he forced it away from him, so that the bullets went into the air, and at the same time he twisted. There was a heavy weight at the other end for a moment, and then it dropped away. Bill found the rifle in his hand, and with the sudden release at the other end, he staggered against the hedge. On top of him tumbled the Trilby of the gunman above, and then came the heavy trampling as the man made his way through a thicket bordering the road. At the same moment Court and one of the constables burst out of the drive, while Anne was bending over Bill Arden, anxiety in her eyes. “You—you’re all right?” Bill grinned. “A bit breathless, that’s all. You?” “Yes—thanks.” “Fine,” said BilL “Lend me a hand.” She gripped his right wrist and pulled at him with surprising strength. Bill said “thanks,” grabbed the rifle, and tnen turned towards the bank. It was steep and heavy going, but a few dwarf ted shrubs were growing in it, and he was able to haul himself up. By the time Court arrived, putting hard, Bill was on top of the bank. The thicket—despite its name—was thin. Less than a hundred yards away Bill saw the man, running between the small trees, his coat tails flying behind him. The heavy, soggy earth made it impossible to run fast. There was a glint in Bill Arden’s eyes as he put the rifle to his shoulder. Memory of the days in the African forests and the Afghan Hills was in his mind, and he shot as gladly as he would have done at any wild beast. The first bullet glanced off a tree. The second caught his man’s leg. The fellow pitched forward and his cry echoed back clearly. On top of it came Court’s gasped: “Arden —careful, Arden!” “One less in the Balluzzi brigade,” called Bill cheerfully. “I’ll get him.” “Careful!” Court yelled again. (To be continued)