Evening Star Newspaper, August 1, 1926, Page 84

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTO THE YOUNG GOD Obviously Murder, With Plenty of Suspicions, But Few Clues, Even for the Clever HE front of Brighton flowered in June sunshine. Conspicu- ously jaunty among that flip- pant crowd tripped the Hon. Sidney Lomas, chief of the eriminal investigation department. By the lawns he was stopped. His adviser on the medical and other problems of crime stood in his way. ““Are yvou up already?” Mr. Fortune ) their way _ slowly through the Sunday crowd, impeded nce expanding itself and women displaying for their admirers what art can do for nature. “The world is too much with. us,” Lomas said. “It is like being in a musical comedy, Reginald. We are tha crowded chorus. Rather gaudy, rathef noisy we are. No wonder chorus girls look bored. “We're a musical comedy and the eudience jumbled togeth 1 feel like somebody in the dress-circle, Lomas. S0 innocent and humble.” “There's somebody who knows he fsn't Reggie Fortune looked at the man, A magnificent creature towering out of the crowd .with shoulders worthy of his height #nd a sunburnt, aqui- line face. He iad a cluster of ad-| mirers round him. women and men. The passing crowd sent many a| glance at him. He was well aware | of it ‘Worship him, don’t they?" Lomas chuckled. “One of England's gods.” ““He's a noble voung god.” said Reg- | gle. “It makes You feel alive to look at him. T saw him score his try in the last international. Took the ball off the feet of the Scottish forwards and cut right through. And we all went mad. Very uplifting, Lomas, old thing.” “Oh, a made splendid animal,” Lomas agreed. “The big blond beast in per- fection. These be your gods, Oh Israel.” ! For this' young man was Douglas | Charlbury, centre three-quarter for | England and the most dashing bat in the merry Sandshire team, and his portrait and his pralses were in all the newspapers. After lunch Reggle Fortune dis- covered that Sandshire was to play Sussex next day and was joyful. “Lomas, old thing, we will go watch the young god sport. If he don't bat, he'll be flelding, which is almost as good. The music of motion. Full orchestra.” - * o ¥ x UT it was not to be. When Reggle propped up his paper against the coffeepot on Monday morning he saw | a headline, “'Sir Rodney Trale Miss- ing.” It appeared that Sir Rodney, who lived on the South Downs, had not been seen &ince Friday night, and his family wanted news of him. Reg- gle sighed. For Sir Rodney Trale was the uncle of Douglas Charlbury. Tt was not llkely that the nephew would be playing cricket for any one till the uncle was found. Reggie finished his lonely breakfast —Lomas was invisible before noon— and wandered out. When he came back to the hotel he saw a lank back, which turned to show him a gaunt, | make Reginald “They didn’t hurry,” Lomas mur- mured. Inspector Mordan sniffed. ‘'No, sir. He was rather a dark horse, was Sir Rodney. They might have thought he had some little game on. Police search began yesterday. This morn- ing they got to dragging the lake in the park and they found him.” He turned his beady eves, on Reginald. “That. looks natural enough, as vou might say. Gentleman after dinner tumbles into his lake. But the chief constable has phoned us to take it up and bring an expert. It's quite provi- dential your being down here already, Mr. Fortune."” They packed themselves into a car and drove away up the valley till the steep northern scarp of the Downs rose above them and they came upon great trees and wide, misty green spaces of the Weald. The park of Chantries is a pleasant place of little hills and little cliffs clothed in ancient velvet turf. The house of Chantries is mellow red brick of the time when Wren was playing with Hampton Court. At the door they were met by a bluff military chief constable, who said it was a bad business, and he was glad to see them. They came into a hall hung with family portraits, and Reggie drifted from one to the other while the chief constable told Lomas that he had nothing to tell him. “We've got the body, we've got. I hope your man can something of it. I've got Trale’s own doctor here, but he's no good at this sort of thing. “Fortune!” Lamas called, and Reg- gie turned reluctantly from the por- trait of a seventeenth century Doug- las Charlbury, the bold, aquiline face of the young god of foot ball and cricket looking out of a periwig. Sir Rodney’s doctor was a pleasant old fellow. He received the great Mr. Fortune with the homage an anxious father would give to a capable son come to take trouble off his hands. “A terrible affair, Mr. Fortume. I fear there must have been foul play. 1 shall be so relleved to have you take the case. You see— And Sir Rodney was not pleasant to see. He lay In his sodden eve- ning clothes, a bulky man of 60. His face ias bruised in ugly colors, his lip cut and swollen, and, thus in- jured, the fierce aquiline features had @ look of horrible malignity. And after a long while: “Well, well. What did you make of it, doctor?” said Reggie “I—I'm very much afraid those in- Juries were inflicted before death, Mr. Fortune.” “Yes, yes. There was a fight and then he was drowned. And rather a curfous fight. Yes, that’s all he can tell u The old doctor gave a sigh of re-| llef. “That is death by drowning, | th ‘Yes''—Reggie gazed at him-—'yes. He died because he couldn’t get out of the water. But why couldn't he get out of the water? And how did he get in?" “Really, Mr. Fortune, I have no idea!” the old doctor cried. and that's all dark face that grinned. “Mordan’” Reggie groaned. “He had, though,” said Reggie, Fortune. Mr. Fortune,” nA’ld Miss Charlbury, and led her aunt away. Downstairs Lomas and the chief constable were closeted together in a little library, turning over many papers. ““Well, Fortune, Lomas cried. “The man was drowned Before drowning he was knocked about with fists by a rather hefty fellow. And somehow he got something poked into his right eye, something thin and narrow and sharp.” “That didn’t kill him?" | “Oh, mo. But it must have hurt. He might have lost the sight of the eye if he had lived. Nothing worse.” “How did he get stabbed in the eye if the other fellow was using fists?"" “Lomas, dear, I wasn't the referee. Nor am I a clairvoyant. He might have fallen on a spike—a splinter— a stump.” what about it?” ou can swegr it was a fellow with & punch that hit him?" “A very hefty fellow with a power- said Mr. Fortune. “That's murder,” said the chief constable, and lay back In his chair and looked with horror at Lomas. ‘What & terrible thing for the family:” Lomas, who was again turning over papers, passed him one. It became clear to Reggle Fortune that he could be more use somewhere else. He drifted away. The family portraits in the hall again attracted him. The pattern of face and body which Sir Rodney Trale and his nephew both possessed ~ was _plainly hereditary. Big, fair, aquiline, high-colored, the men of the family had been like that for centuries. But another strain showed itself. Many of the daughters of the house were of the dark, frail, gentle beauty which had come to Miss Trale and Miss Charlbury. Reggie turned to find the family doctor behind him. The old man had been up to see Miss Trale. She had | felt the shock sadly, and her health had never been good. “Poor dear lady!” the old man sighed. “Her brother to go first and like this! She was devoted to him. | How often that happens, Mr. Fortune’ Weak women give their lives up to over strong men.” ves. This is a curious doctor. All the men are big | ery true,” the old doctor sighedl. plendid fellows, the Trale men. Have you ever seen Douglas Charl- bury? ~ His mother was a Trale, of course. He is Miss Joyce's brother. Curlous how different they are. Poor dear Joyce! Between her uncle and her brother"—he pulled up short— | Mr. Fortune, it's these weak | who save men’s bodies and * K ok % THE old doctor bustled off, and Mr. Fortune wandered out into the park. He proposed to go down to the trainer's house and see what might be seen on the path by which Sir Rodney had walked his last walk. But he was diverted by the garden | from business, which is one of his bad habits, and so he came into tHe park looking at the rage on the dead face. | WHEN REGGIE PROPPED UP HIS PAPER AGAINST THE COFFEE POT A HEADLINE: “SIR RODNEY TRALE MIS! *“Good morning, sir,”” said Inspector Mordan, briskly. “Lucky I found you. Mr. Lomas in, sir?” Reggie groaned again and led him to the lift. They found Lomas sitting in front of his dressing table, perfect- ing that work of art—the wave in his hair. “Very sorry, sir,” said Inspector Mordan. “It’s the Trale case. They've | found the body and called us in.” “What is the Trale case?”’ asked 2omas, peevishly. And Inspector Mordan told him at length. i Sir Rodney Trale lived with his sis- ter and his niece in the ancient house of Chantries, which stands in a park under the Downs. Sir Rodney, who was a great man on the turf, had his training stables close by. On Friday ning he walked across the park to ine with his trainer. He ate that dinner, they talked horses, and he left the house about 10:30 o'clock. “That's what the trainer says,” Lomas murmured. “Just so, sir,” Inspector Mordan nodded. “Well, after that Sir Rodney vanished. No one was sitting up for bim. On Saturday morning his valet found that his bed hadn't been slept ‘When they left that room two people came out of another—a young woman, short and frail, an old woman, even smaller, who lJeaned heavily on her arm. White hair and the wrinkles of ill-health in the elder could not disguise how like they were in delicacy of feature and in the gsn“e simplicity of their dark eyes. 3 { “Dr. Turner"—the young woman spoke—''can you tell us anything?” And - Reggie Fortune liked her soft volice. o “I'am most distressed, Miss Charl- bur I'm afraid T must tell you— your poor uncle—there must have been foul play. Mr. Fortune—oh, Miss Trale, Miss Charlbury, this is Mr. Reginald Fortune, the great' au- thority on these cases—" Mr. Fortune made his bow. “Mr. Fortune has formed the opinion that Sir Rod- ney was—was murdered.” “Oh!" said Miss Charlbury. “No, I'wouldn’t say that,” Reggie murmured. “I didn't say it. What T have said is that Sir Rodney met with violence before his death.” *‘Is there any difference?” said Miss Charlbury. in. The family rang up the trainer. They looked about for him. On Satur. day evening.they.called in the.police.” by a walk between noble yew hedges ON MONDAY HMOGRNING HS SAW SING. which hollows were cut for stone seats. Where the rolling turf of the park opened before him he saw some- thing glitter - on the ground, and picked up a little pjece of greenish- brown quartz carved into the likeness of a face—a face with a queer, long nose. As he stood he was hidden from the park, but the path was not far away, and when he walked on he saw the lake gleam in the sun- shine. To the lake he went. The path came close to it, where the bank over- hung the green water in a little white clifft. There, whether he fell or was thrown, it was probable Sir Rodney had gone in. And the water was deep there, It would nct have been easy 1o get out again \ln the dark up that slippery chalk, and Sir Rodney had been battered, dazed perhaps, or stunned, before he wert in. The grass was trampled and gray. ‘That must have been done by the men dragging the lake. Reggie could make nothing of it, but as he moved toand fro he saw a scrap of something whiter than the chalky grass. It was a chip of bone or ivery. It went into his pocketbook with the quartz face as he heard steps behind him. ““Well, sir, not much here, is there?” sald Inspector Mordan. “They stamped out anything there was,"” “Is this where they found him?" “Out there. In 10 feet of water. Not far from the bank. He couldn't swim, they say.” “I dare say he didn’t feel much like swimming.” “What, sir, was he dead before he was in the water?” “No, no. He went in alive. But he'd been badly hammered.” “My oath, he had Inspector Mor- dan grinned. ‘“I've found that out, Mr. Fortune. This way, sir.” He led on down the path. ‘‘See, there’s blood. And big footprints there in the damp stuff. That's him, or somebody his size. Now, look here, sir.” By a spinney 200 or 300 yards farther on the inspector stopped. The turf was torn and broken by deep footmarks and there were scattered stains of blood. “What do you make of that, Mr. Fortune?” The inspector was triumphant. “That's a fight, all right!" In the long grass at the edge of the spinney were the prints of large feet. ““There was only one mantin it, Mr. Fortune. He stood there and smoked a cigarette.” Inspector Mordan held out the stump of it. “‘He could see Sir Rodney coming a long, way off, and when the old man came he went for him." “And he was a big fellow and he smokes Aristides cigarettes,” Reggile murmured. “Yes. You have it all, Mordan. Except one thing. How did Sir Rodney get drowned?” \ “The fellow may have knocked him out and thrown him in the lake.” Reggie measured the distance with his eye. It was some quarter of a le, " “‘Hefty throw,” he murmured. f course, he'd have to carry the body to the bank,” the inspector ex- plained angrily. * ok ok ok EGGIE wandered hither and thither in the park and out of it. He found nothing, but in the lane, where a small car hall stopped, an- other Aristides cigarette. When he came back to the house Sir Rodney's trainer, Capt. Ferfie, was reporting himself to Lomas and the chief constable. Capt. Ferne, who possessed the physique and face of a jockey, had nothing to say and kept saying so. He had bidden good night to Sir Rodney on his doorstep at half-past 10 on Friday night and had never seen him again. Sir Rodney was quite sober. There was no one about. Did he know of any one who &ad a grudge against Sir Rodney? A suc- essful owner of racehorses always ad enemies, and Sir Rodney had successful. have heard,” sald Lomas the trainer knew of nobody in the district, no oe who was likely to be violent, could not suggest any one. Then Douglas Charfbury strode in, brusque and imperious. ““Mr. Lomas? Which s Mr. Lom I'm told you want to see me, sir. “I hoped to have seen you before, Mr. Charlbury.” “I am playing for Sandshire, sir. We have been in the field all da “Really?” Lomas put up his e glass. “Your uncle was found dead his morning.” o I have heard. but I don't under- stand why you want me. “There Is evidence that he was murdered, Mr. Charlbury.” “What evidence?" “He was assaulted before he was | drownea.” ““Where?" “Here, in_the park, on his home from Capt. Ferne's hous Douglas Charlbury exchanged a glance with Capt. Rerne, which was not affectionate. “Who did it? Any evidence about that?" “Can you help us, Mr. Charlbury?” “I haven't been living here for over a vear. I was on tour with the Sandshire eleven.” “You have no suspicion of any one?” Douglas Charlbury gave an angry laugh. . “My uncle wasn't altogether popu- lar. Ferne knows that.” “I don't know what you cried Capt. Ferne. Again Douglas Charlbury laughed. “If Ferne can't tell you.no one can.” “Really?” said Lomas. T must own you disappoint me, Mr. Charl- bury.” “I ‘don’t know what you expected,” said Douglas Charlbury. “Anything more, sir? I want to see my people.” Lomas shook his head, and Charl- bury strode out. “I'm afraid they were on bad terms, sir.” Capt. Ferne shook his head. “Very sad. Sir Rodney felt it.” “Really?” said Lomas, and got rid of Capt. Ferne too. “He's rather like a iweasel, you know,” Reggle murmured. “What's between them. the weasel and our An angry young god it ‘Quite,”” said Lomas briskly. “Well, Fortune, you went around with Mor- dan, dldn't you? Do you agree?” ““Mordan touches the spot, as ever. A large fellow lurked by the spinney smoking an Aristides and set about | Sir Rodney. Yes, we have no objec- tions.” “Anything to add?" “Well, there was another Aristides vay mean! stopped. That might have a bearing. Also there was this by the lake’—he displayed his fragment of ivory—"“and that by the garden hedge.” He pro- duced the quartz face. “Aslatic,’ eh?” said Lomas. “Chi- nese, is I1t?" “Lomas, dear, you shouldn’t say things like that. Tt exposes the de- partment. Not Asiatic. The other side of the world—American. Ffay Honduras or Yucatan. A work of the | Maya culture.” Lomas said he had never heard of the Mayas. “What's the other trin- ket? A Babylonian toothpick? Or & bit of Cleopatra’s paperknife? “T don’t know. But I'm not proud of it, Lomas.” “Whatever the things are, they may have been in the park for weeks. The ibit of glass”—here Reggie groaned: “wasn't near the crime. And if you know why anybody uses a scrap of bone to punch a man’s head and drown him, I don't.” & “There's such a lot of things I don't know. That's why I'm humble,” said Reggie sadly. ‘Is there anything you do know, Lomas? What was in those papers you were browsing on?" “Douglas Charlbury had a- violent quarrel with Sir Rodney. It began with a raeing dispute—that fi fair in the Rutlandshire.” The chief = constabtle sighed and shook hlwtl.i “slrthRotdl:?y" was ting a name on the turf.” — M’Thm isn't a bad name Douglas didn’t call him. And it got to threats, Fortune.” “Well, well! And then a large man who knew Sir Rodney’s habits comes and hammers him.” “Something for your young god to explain, isn't 1t?" “But he did. He had an alibi.” “Yes, they often have.” Lomas smiled. - But théy did not see at the inquest. For the caution of Lomas decided to offer no more than'the medical evi- dence, and the verdict was murder against persons unknown. It was afterward that. Reggle was smoked in the lane where a small car | .. D. 0, AUGUST 1, “THEN YOU CONFESS YOU COMMITTED PERJURY AT YOUR TRIAL? AND BROUGHT THREE WITNESS- ES TO SWEAR A FALSE ALIBI?” called to Scotland Yard and found with Lomas Mr. Montague Finchamp- stead, the public prosecutor, that large and florid man. “Why do you look so happy, Finch?” he asked anxiously. “Finchampstead hopes to take ac- tion in the Trale murder,” Lomas ex- plained. “Zear—all zeal,” Reggie murmured. “I think it will probably be my duty, Fortune,” sald Mr. Finchamp- stead. “I have therefore called a con- sultation. On the facts brought before me I consider there is a strong case against Douglas Charl- bury. I do not, of course, wish to charge him with murder unless I can be reasonably sure of a convie- tion.” Here Lomas yawned. “I shall be glad of your opinion on that “You're not a_moral man, Finc sald Reggie sadly. “You want to know if you can conviet him. You ought to want to know if he did it!" “1 see mo_difference,” Finchamp- stead rebuked him with dignity. “T consider the matter as a lawy “That's what 1 complain of, gle murmured. “Be good enough to consider the case. Douglas Charlbury had quar- reled with, his uncle abolf the way Sir Rodney conducted his racing af fairs. Sir Rodney’s horse should have won the Rutlandshire Handicap, and Reg- money—" “Like the rest of the world,” sald Lomas. “The old man was a black- guard.” “Quite possible,” Finchampstead swept on. “There were other cases. Charlbury wrote furious letters. He suspected his uncle of arranging that the favorite should not win the Leeds Cup, and we have a letter in which he declares violently that he will in- terfere. That was written three days before the murder. On Wednesda: lay and Friday Charlbury w: playing cricket at Southampton, The match finished at noon. The rest of the team went on to Brighton by train. Charlbury had with him a | small two-seater car. He left South- ampton in the afternoon alone. {and his car were seen in the road | near Chantries that evening. We have a tramp who will swear that he saw a small car like Charlbury’'s deserted’ in the lane by the park that night. We found traces of that car, large footprints and the stumps of Aristides cigarettes. We know Charlbury smokes that brand. We know that Sir Rodney was attacked by some one familiar with his habits. 1 understand you are prepared to testify that Sir Rodney’s injuries were inflicted by a man of great physical strength. The cumulative force of this evidence is very strong. I shall be glad to hear if you have any doubt that it proves Charlbury guilty of the murder.’ “I don't know.” Reggle said slowly. “Have you thought about -the un- known quantities, Finch? My quartz face, my bit of ivory? They don't fit with Charlbury?’ “They don’t fit with anything," Tomas grumbled. “I .consider them irrelevant,” Finchampstead. “Well, well,” Reggie sighed. “It's a wonderful thing, the legal mind. You'll have to. produce me, Finch. And T shall have to say there was a punctured wound in the man’'s right eve, which could not have been made by a fist. That’s rather relevant.” You said yourself that he might have fallen on a stump, or a splinter, or a spike.” “Yes. But we didn't find spike, or splinter, or stump.” . “What does it matter? It is a trivial injury. You say so. And the assault was violent. Come, Fortune, have you any real doubt Charlbury was the murderer?” . “Oh, yes! Some. I don't like the case, Finch. I can't satisfy myself. And you don't satisty me.” “Do you advise me not to bring Charlbury into court?” “If 1 were on the -jury—would I con- viet?” Reggle said slowly. “I don't I xnow, Finch. I don't know. “It’ will be a doosed unpopular prosecution,” Lomas grumbled, ‘“‘The shady old uncle who robbed the public rigging races is done in, and you put in the dock this handsome nephew who's a god on cricket and footer grounds. Finch, youll be hooted in court.” “I am aware it will be unpopular,” sald Finchampstead. ‘“That is another reason for pressing the case. I will let you know my decision.” He went out in majesty. * ok Kk LOMAS at least was right. The prosecution was most unpopular. All England and the newspapers rallied round Douglas Charlbury. Yet a brutal bench of magistrates committed him for trial. His counsel was content to say nonchalantly that Mr. Charlbury preferred to reserve his defense, but had a perfect answer to the charge. And the opinion of the junior bar was that he would want all the answer he had got. The carefully marshaled ‘evidence for the crown was impressive. ‘When the case was tried before little Justice Golding, cross-examina- tion made a hole or two in the prose- cution. The tramp who swore to seeing a car in the lane became a vague and unconvincing tramp. In- spector Mordan could not swear that the footprints in the long grass would fit Douglas Charlbury’s feet, and con- fessed that they were * not precise footprints. Inspector. Mordan ad- mitted that many people smoked Aristides cigarettes. Inspecfor Mor- dan could not explain how the body came from the scene of the fight to the hka“ Mr. F‘l’]’l‘tu“.'fl. e unshakable upon his evidence that the injuries were inflicted before death by a strong man'’s fists, said it was not placed and Charlbury lost | | Brighton. He | unshaken, | declined tries and the nelghborheod 1926—PART 5. to offer any theory of the wound in the eye. ‘‘Not such an injury as vou would expect in a fight, Mr. Fortune? No. You don’t know how it happened? No. In fact you don't know how Sir Rodney met his death?” “Yes. I know he was drowned after he had been hit.” “But you don't know how he was drowned?"" “I don’t know,” Mr, Fortune agreed gravely. Counsel turned to the jury. “He doesn't know! The crown's own expert doesn’t know, gentlemen And a man is charged with murder’ ‘There was a murmur in court. The junior bar looked at each other, and some one said: “That's torn it!" Counsel for the defense opened his confidently. The jury would ob- erve that he had nothing to answer, for the crown had not proved that a | But in | murder had been committed order that no shadow of suspicion should remain on Mr. Douglas Charl- bury, he would show that Mr. Charl- | bury did not meet and could not have met his uncle on the night that Sir Rodney was drowned. Douglas Charlbury went into the box. He swore that he had not seen Sir Rodney for many months. On the night of his death he was traveling in his small car from Southampton to He came by way of Chi- chester, Houghton Bridge and Steyn- ing. It was therefore possible that he had been seen on the road near Chantries. But his car had not stopped there. He had dined at the Four-in-Hand Inn on the Grinstead road, which was kept by an old ser- vant of his father's, and spent the night there. He had been smoking ‘with the landlord all the evening till | he went to bed. Cross-examination only drew from him a justification of the violence of his letters to Sir Rodney. He had no doubt that Sir Rodney and his trainer had arranged for their horses to lose races. “And for you .to counsel sneered. “Half the sportsmen in England lost money, sir.” l"And you naturally resented the 0ss." “I resented the fou! play resented the disgrace to my We_have run straight for 300 “What did you mean v threat to prevent Sir Rodney pla tricks with the favorite for the Leeds Cup?” “I meant that I would expose him, sir.” Counsel let him go. Counsel could make nothing of the landlord of the Four-in-Hand Inn, and the landlady and their daughter. They swore that Mr. Douglas had come to their house at 8 and not gone out again. They were quite clear and confident. The jury were not out of court 5 minutes. They found Douglas Charl- bury innocent. And there was a cheer. “Come on, Fortune.” said Lomas. “Better get away before the crowd hangs us on the lamp posts.” But in the press seats a reporter lose money?" said: “It was old Fortune got him off. He's deep, is Fortune. I wonder what his little game is?" * K ok ok N the morning the papers were fuller than ever of Douglas Charl- bury. He was a champion of British sport. He had suffered gloriously to vindicate the purity of the turf, and it was obvious to every sane man that he had not killed his uncle, and the officials who ordered the prosecu- tion were fools and knaves. Over the telephone Mr. Fortune asked Lomas to lunch. “Can you eat, Reginald?” said Lomas. "I have no appetite. T hear 4 mob in Whitehall howling for my blood." “How's Finch this morning?” A chuckle came over the “Finch has gone sick." “So he ought to be” sald Mr. Fortune. *“Come along. Elsie is put- ting on one of her best souffles. T told her you wanted to be comforted. Not till that souffle was eaten and the two men looked at 'each other with the eyes of those who have en- joyed pure art did Mr. Fortune come to business. He peeled a necktarine, he tasted it, he sipped his Barsac. “Do you remember the Trale case, Lomas?” he said dreamily. “Don’t be brutal,” Lomas groaned. “1 was happy.” “Curious family,” Reggie mur- mured. “None of the famigy came to the trial, I think, Lomas," “Miss Trale has been very ill— pneumonia.” N “What happens to the old man's e left no will. Divided between Douglas and his sister—and Miss Trale, if she lives.” “Yes, a curious family. Lots of unknown quantities. Lomas, old thing, have vou heard of anybody down at Chantries who has anything to do with Yucatan?* “What are you thinking of now?” “My quartz face. I wish you have somebody look about for a per- son from Yucatan.” So Inspector Mordan again took the air on the South Downs. And after a fortnight he. came back. His report was that he had been lbrw‘h"c‘;.n- wire. g | was stiff. a small-tooth comb and found no one | there who was known to have any- thing to do with Central America. Lomas yawned. ““Out with it, Mor- dan! You've got more than that! I see it in your bloodthirsty eve.” Inspector Mordan smiled. “I have, sir. There was a man handy when | Sir Rodney was murdered who had | just come from Central America. And 1 he went back there just after.” Lomas lit a cigarette. “Came over to drown Sir Rodney, I suppose?” “That's as may be, sir.” Inspector { Mordan rebuked this filppancy. “Close |to Chantries there’s a widow lady lives, Mrs. Stanton. She has a son, a geologist he 1s, who's been doing work in Central America for an oil com- pany. Just before the murder he was | staying with her. He went off on the | Saturday morning—that's the day after, sir—sailed for the West Indies that afternoon, and he's been out there | | ever since. But now they say he's | coming back.” Inspector Mordan | smiled again. reckon he thinks it's all clear, now the trial's over.” “Any link between Mr. Stanton and the Trale family?" | “I couldn’t make out anything par- | | ticular, sir. His mamma’s friendly | with the ladies at Chantries. He used | to go there when he was at home. | Nothing marked, as you might say | But it looks to me as if we were get ting warm.” “T'll ring up Mr. | Lomas. | Mr. Fortune, much against his will, was extracted from a hammock among the roses of his riverside garden and led by a stern parlor maid to the telephone. “We've, found your Central Ameri- can,” said Lomas. “Come and hear | all about him, Reginald, Interesting | {but_enigmatic_fellow."” | “I do not like you, Lomas,” said | Mr. Fortune sadly. “But you may | dine with me. Good-by.” * ook X Fortune,” said 0 it was under the tea rambler which has heard so many tales of crime that Lomas told him of the dis- covery of Charles Stanton. Mr. For- tune blew smoke rings into the moon- | ight. “What does it come to?" he said dreamily. “Our Central American is down there before the murder. He re- mains abroad till the trial is over and all is peace. Then he comes back. He is a bore, but for that, alas, we cannot hang him. He bothers me.” “Well, you wanted him. And we've found him. , What about it?" Mr. Fortune sighed. “You will be logical, Lomas. Let us see Charles of Yucatan. Let us talk to him.” The chief of the criminal investiga- tion department wrote to Mr. Charles Stanton and asked him to call. A | lean, brown man presented himself to Lomas and Mr. Fortune. He had a mouth which shut tight. His manner “Do sit down, Mr. Stanton. Sorry to_ trouble you, but I hope you'll be able to help us.” Lomas was at his blandest. “Now I wonder if you can tell me, do you know anything of this trinket?” * Stanton took up the quartz face. “It's mine,” he said, and showed no emotion. A mascot of aine. The thing is a bit of Maya work I picked up in Yucatan.” “I wonder if you ever gave it to any one?” Lomas suggested smooth. Iy. “Or lent it to some one, perha. Stanton frowned. o, 1 didn he said sharply. “I always carried the thing till I lost it.” “Could you tell me when that was?" “I cant put a date to it. When 1 was last in England.” “Or where you lost it?" “If 1 had known I should have looked for it.” “Yes, 1 suppose yvou would. Can you tell me how you lost it, Mr. Stanton?” “I've no idea. You are asking me the deuce of a lot of questions, sir.” “So sorry you should feel that. Well, Mr. Stanton, I must ask you one more. Your quartz face was found in the park at Chantries just fter the murder of §ir Rodney Trale and close to the scene of the murder. Can you give me any explanation of | that?" i Stanton stood up. {“I'm wasting your time, You won't get any furthel “Really, Mr. Stanton, doing yourself iustice!” “I'm the judge of that, sir | “You force me to ask you an- other question. Why did you leave the country immediately after the murder?” Stanton laughed. “Why don't vou give me the usual warning that any- { thing I say may be used as evidence against me? “I have been asking you to assist us in investigating a crime,” said Lomas gravely. “Do you wish me to understand you decline?" “I am not responsible for what you understand, sir. Good day!" And out_he went. “Deeper and deeper vet,” Reggle murmured. “No!" he said. Mr. Lomas! you're not * kX % 'HAT night Lomas received a tele- gram from Douglas Charlbury. It was imperious. It instructed Lomas that he must be in his office next .morning to receive Douglas Charlbury,.who had something to say to_him. | In the morning Douglas Charlbury marched in upon them, bigger than | ever (so they have complaired), more vigorous, more arrogant. ““Who's this?"" he scowled at Reggie. “I'm here to talk to you and no- body else, Mr. Lomas." “Mr. Fortune is my colleague. Mr. Fortune knows all about your case.’ ‘Does he? I think not™ “I shall not hear-you except in his presence.” Douglas Charlibury laughed. *Oh, if you want your fellows to know what a fool you've been, T don't care. Mr. Fortune, isn’t it, the wonderful medical expert? You didn't cut much fce at my trial. Better try again, doctor. Now, Mr. Lomas, you've been trying to drag Charles Stanton into this murder. Well, now you listen to me. I won't have it Lomas put up his eyeglass. I understand you to say wouldn't have it?" “Don't put on side. You can't touch Charles Stanton, and you shan’t touch him. You can't do any thing: that's how you stand. The case is finished.”, “Because Mr. Douglas Charlbury was acquitted? I'm afraid that leaves us with a murderer at large.” Murderer nothing! Because I was acquitted and I killed the man. You meddle with any one else, and the first thing you know I'll tell the world.” Reggie sank deeper into his chair. Lomas stared a long minute. Then he said carefully, “Have you coms here to confess you murdered your “Di4 you—you A jury said T didn’t. You try me again. I'm innocent ear to Heaven I killed him!" vou confess you committed And brought swear a false ca But T swi ““Thy at vour trial? witnesses to “They believed g good souls, That's no perjury. And T—I don't answer to you for what I did! You get up any dirty case against Charles Stanton, or any one else, and I'll own it all.” He stamped out. Lomas lay back in his chair. “That is the biggest bluff that T ever met!" “Was ft bluff?" Rq “He meant it all.” “Did he? How can you tell? We can't call his bluff. If we had a case against Stanton and he came for the defense and swore he did the murder himself, half the jury would say he was a noble, self-sacrificing hero, and the other half wouldn't convict against his evidence. ~And he—he’s been found innocent, and we've got nothing fresh against him but this melodrama confession. Deuce take him, he has us beat!" 28 e HAT night a letter came tp Regeie Fortune. The old famil¥ doctor of Chantries wished to consult him about Miss Trale. An attack of pneu- monia_had left her very weak and she did not gain strength. The doe- tor was himself unable to suggest any treatment but rest and eareful nurs- ing. She had expressed a very strong wish to see Mr. Fortune, and if Mr. Fortune could give the time, it would be a kindness. In the morning Reggie Fortune lay in his car and watched the dim blue line of the Downs come clear of the mist till Chanctonbury stood sharp. He wondered whom he would meet at Chantries. He did meet the old doc- tor, who was all apologies for trou- bling the great Mr. Fortune. A sim- ple case, he feared. An old lady ex- hausted by iliness, he knew of noth. ing for her but quiet and the grace of God. But she had been very anxious Mr. Fortune should come. Reggie nodded gravely. It appear ed to him that the old doctor knew something he did not mean to say. Joyce Charlbury came into the hall, pale and worn. Reggie found himself looking Into tragic eyes. “I hope we've done right, Mr. Fortune,” the girl said. “Yes, I think so,” said Reggle For- tune. The frail hosom rose. “Be kind to her. Oh, be kind,” she sald faintly. * ok ok ¥ N a big room to which the sunlight came in many colors through the old, uneven glass of an oriel window, Miss Trale lay in bed, a tiny shape which hardly raised the coverlet. Her face was gray as her hair. Her nurse rose as they came, set by her bedside an ebony stick and flitted out. “Only Mr. Miss Trale sald. Joyce looked at her and drew the old doctor away. Miss Trale turned laboriously looked at Reggie. “You know wi sent for you,” she said. “T killed my brother.” Reggie sat down by the bedside and took her pulse in his hand. “I'm a doctor, not a policeman, Miss Trale," he said gently. “I believe you mean to do right. T have tried to do right. I read what you said at Douglas’ trial. Oh, if I had known! If I had known! But I was ill, and they told me nothing. My poor boy!" “Douglas is safe.” “But now you are trying to accuse Charles Stanton. It wasn't he, Mr. Fortune. He did nothing. I killed Rodney. And—and I'm glad!” She fell back panting. “You need not fear for Mr. Stan- ton,” Reggie said gently. “I want you to know. I want to make sure there is nobody, nobody but me. Rodney was wicked. He played foul, he always did. But we kept it hidden till this rascal Ferne came to him. Then he began to cheat with his horses. Do you know what that meant to us, Mr. Fortune? Our colors have been on the turf a hun- dred years, and he—he had his horses run crooked. A Trale of Chantries That was why Douglas quarrele” (Continued on Seventlt Page.) what - the; eggie murmured. Fortune,”