Evening Star Newspaper, November 14, 1927, Page 20

= A B R TR L ge) The Four Stragglers | THE START OF THE STORY. Tn a lull of a great war hattle four men are thrown fogether—a mysterious English- man, another who has been a valet, a pol jshed Frenchman and an “‘unknown 3 Iatter disanpears after he has heard the others discss their underworld careers and ngree 0 war. _ After the Newcombe is die fowist ®ver which all London 18 agos (Continued from Yesterday's Star.) “A Lydy ’er Mother Was! swift movement, Capt. Francis Newcombe = whip ped a flask from his pocket. and held it to the woman's; lips. § She swallowed a few drops with dif- ficulty, and lay still Presently Mrs. Wickes' lips moved. apt. Francis N weombe, close be- ned over her. n' abaht 'em ex- srness an’ ‘e 'adn’t Y adn't ountin’ mily accor ruth, poor appened she told t n Mrs. Wickes lay silent. Tler ntinued to move, but they were She seemed suddenly to scions of this, and motion- ed weakiy for the flask. And again with difficulty she swal- lowed a few drops “Years ago this was forced the words with tween. *’Ard times 5 wot killed in a hac took sick after Polly came, an’ the| went, an’ she wouldn't ‘ave | she got down to this, lik tryin' to keep body an'| on the bit she ‘ad left. | An’ an' 1 took Polly. { ears old Polly was then. T n't zood of tellin’ Polly an’ ‘ave ‘er erself airs when she ‘ad to RO | an' earn sometk it she'd known 1 she might ‘ave for me—an’ I couldn't avin® my hold on goin’ to ‘ave 4 Mrs. Wickes | long pauses he came on 'em dent. An’ she | othe stopped workin® ‘ave made ‘er. an' 1 wasn’'t like that. Polly Wick v Wickes—the flower gi Flowers— posies— pretty posies—that's where yer saw ‘er- ) 3 The woman's voice had thickened: her words, in snatches, were incohe- nt: g Wickes — Polly Wickes— Polly Gray 'er name is— 1 got the lines an' the 1 kept ‘em all these 1 got 'em ‘ere.” { said Capt. Newcombe | The thought flashed through my mind as vou spoke. But it means nothing. How could it? More than three years have gone. Let us forget my re- He flicked the ash from his cigarette. “Well, then, as I am the only one left to speak, I will say that L too, agree.” The doorbell interrupted the French- iman’s words. Runnells left the room to answer the summons. He was back in 3 mo- ment with a card on a silver t which he handed to the ex-captain of territorials. The card tray was significant. Capt. | Francis Newcombe glanced first Runnells’ face, frowned—then picked up the card. His eyes narrowed as he r DETECTIVE SERGT. MULLINS | New Scotland Yard. He handed the card coolly to Faul Cremarre. “Everything all right so far as yvou | are concerned?’ he demanded, in & low, quick tone. The Frenchman smiled at the card | in a curious way, handed it back, and | Author of “The the Night," \d it. On the card was written: | iy i g THE EVENING B " “Doors of | immie Dale,” Etc. | morning. But, perhaps the account re inaccurate?” “No, sir,” sald Sergt. Mullin: far as that goes, they're accurat enough. The doctors say it must hav been somewhere between 2 and o'clock in the morning.” “Quite so!’ combe, The last time I saw Sir Harris wa yesterday evening at the club. “Sir Ha fore I did. the hour would prol am quite cert I have no exact idea wha though ly be able to say, but n it ong."” id Sergt. Mullins. “And ted to- them, sir? portant, that you “\ell, if it's important, 'y «aid Capt. Francis Newcombe gravely ‘Yes, sir remembe The shows, of course, and the Amer HE PICKED UP THE CANDLE FROM THE CHAIR AND READ IT. a hunting ican yacht race, horses, lodge Sir Harris had in Scotland, and believe that's all, sergeant aid Capt. Francis New- “That is what I had in mind. s left the club shortly be- it g st So am I, it it would have helped | jast night. the doorman | would not have | at|jeen later than half-past 11, our talk 1 al STAR, WASHINGTON, y Frank L. Packard Copyright, Geo. H. Doran Co. s hat's what you mean, wasn’'t mentioned." Nor any crime? ‘The subject 9 And particularly i particular criminal?” prodded the o | Scotland_Yard man. 3|, Cupt. Francis Newcombe shook his t a word,” he said. Detective Sergt. Mulling looked up a little gloomily from his waistcoat button, “I'm sorry for that,” he =aid. N any, 1| toviais aptain of But what's the ex terri V. the ** said the Scot- land_ Yarc with all due respect g|to the dead, Sir Harris fancied him- self a bit, he did, along those lines. Some queer notions he had, sir—and stubborn. as you might He's got himself into trouble more than once, ind the Yard's had its own time with him. He's been war sir, often enoush—and if he was alive, he wouldn't he hadn't. It's what he's | been told might happen. There's no other reason, as far as we've gone, why he should have been murdered. It looks the likely thing that he went too far this time, and got to know * said the And_sorry to; , I'll be goin; “Scotland Yard man, have taken up your time, sir.” “You've done nothing but your said Capt. Francis Newcombe niy. e rang the bell. “Run- nells, bring Sergt. Mullins a drink!” And with a smile to the Scotland Yard A Detective Sergt. Mulli took the glass from Runnel how, sir?” He wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “Goodnight, gen- tlemen!” Capt. rested renchma The Frenchman leaned against the mantel and stared at the end of his cigarette, The front door closed and Runnells came back into the room. “Now, Runnells,” said Capt. Francis Newcombe blandly, “bring us all a drink, and we will talk about—tomor- row night.” Newcombe's dark upon the Francis unemotionally Gold Plate. A motor ran swiftly along a coun- try road. Two men sat in the front seat. “My friend Runnells,” said one of the two quizzically, after a silence that had endured for miles, “what in 1] hell is the matter with vou tonight?" | | "I don’t know,” said Runnells, who D. €., MONDAY. wus talking about last night, maybe— the things you feel in the air." “Bah"™ said Paul Cremarre com posedly. “If it is only the air! For three years we have found nothing in | the air but good fortune,” | “That's all right,” Runnells re | turned sullenly. ut just the same that's the way I feel, and I can't help it. We're going to lay low for a spell after tonight, and maybe that's what's | wrong, too—kind of as though we | were pushing our luck over the edge | by sticking it just one night tou| man “Look nhere!" said Runnells sudden v. "It you want to know, I'll tell you. 1 kmow everything's fixed for tonight, maybe better than it's ever been fixed, before—it ain't that. It's It's damned queer, th bloke from Scotland Yard showing u; oms!"” murmured Paul “Yes, my Runnells, I, too, have thought of that. But you were a home the night before, when Sir Ilar s was murdered, you an. n, were you not? It is_not A mere little coincidénce— yea? You should know better than 1 0. “'here's mnothing to know,” said Runnells shortly, “It's just the idea of a Scotland Yard man coming to our diggings., Like a warning, some how, it looks.” s, said Paul Cremarre, “Quite And the headlights now—hadn't Cremarre AND-BLOCKED LINEN Pure hand-blocked Irish Lin shrunk, a yard Gevien W 7975 Rt Wholesale and Retail _N.W.__ Main 3211 Lactobacillus Acidophilus Call onr %’M‘"""“"i, A" Milk For fnrentinay dikorders Ask vour physiclan t it NATIONAL VACCINE AND ANTITOXIN INSTITUTE Phone North 89 1513 U St. N.W Repairs for FURNACES & BOILERS Fries, Beall & Sharp 734-736 10th St. N.W. NOVEMBER 14, 1927, you better switch them off? And run i little slower, Runnells. It is not far now. it I have made no mistake in my s Star) Not Done Thoughtlessly. ¥rom the Boston [ranseriot. She was just a heginner at bridge Wel {relates the Montreal Star. but she |impressive pause, “what of it? | must keep her end np. =0 she was not | my reasons.’ at all abashed when her partner said: “Do you know you revoked?" she replied after a short but 1 haa America’s foremost builder of FINE MOTOR CARS will announce in this paper on Wednesday, Nov. 16 a design and type that is STRIKINGLY NEW auite a range, at that.” | drov the car, hat the captain Detective Sergt. Mullins inspected | | the hottom button of his waistcoat in- tently. Sir Harris was a bit of a crimi- nologist in his way, as perhaps you've heard, sir?” he said. | “Yes, T believe 1 have heard it said | “Ere’™ Mrs. Wickes plucked fee-| lighted a fresh cigarette. the edge of the bed clothing. 'S 5 " he said. - “Sure?” said Capt. combw. “Absolutely Francis New . Francis Newcombe thrust his hand quickly under the mattress. | After a moment’s search he brought out a soiled envelope. It bore a faded * replied the French- | ne low tone. said the ex-captain of ~THE WALNIT AOOM~ T ST BT AR ST BT R s B T T VSR AN cseription in a serawling hand. He picked up the candle from the chair and read it: “Polly’s papers truth, Mrs. Wickes He tore the envelope open rather carefully at the end. It contained two papers that were turned a little vel Jow with age. Yes, it was quite trus! His eyves traveled swiftly over the names: “Harold Morton Gray * * * Eliz- abeth Pauline Forbes. Pauline Gray. e There was a sudden sound from the bed—like a long, fluttering sigh. Capt. Francis Newcombe swung sharp: Iv about. The woman's arm was| stretched out toward him; dulled eyes seemed to be striving desperately in their fading vision to search his face. The outstretched arm fell to the bed govering—and Mrs. Wickes lay still. Mrs. Wickes was dead. Capt. Francis Newcombe replaced the papers in the envelope, and placed the envelope in his pocket. He set the cgndle back on the chair, blew it out, and walked across the room to the door. “Gray, eh?" said Capt. Francis New- combe under his breath, as he closed the door behind him. *“Polly Gray. eh? Well, it doesn't matter, does | It's just as good an iron in the fi whether it's—Wickes or Gray” Three of Them. Twenty-five minutes later, Capt. Francis Newcombe stood at the door of his apartment. Runnells admitted him. “Paul Cremarre here yet?” de- manded the ex-captain of territorials briskly. “Yes,” said Runnells. half an hour.” With Runnells behind him, Capt. Francis Newcombe entered the living room of the apartment. A tall man, immaculately dressed, with a smallyf very carefully trimmed black mus. . with e that were equally pupils were curious- ly minute, stood by the mantel. “*Ah, monsieur!” He wayed his arm in greeting. Tut “Back, eh, Paul? Francis Newcombe, into a lounge chair. “Expected you, of course, tonight. Well, what's the news? How's the fishing smack?” Paul Cremarre smiled faintly, “Ah, the poor Marianne!” h “Such bad weather! It is always the bilge. If it do not leak so furiously’ He lifted his shoulders, and blew a wreath of cigarette smoke languidly ceilingward. “So!" said Capt. Francis combe. “Been searched again, eh The Frenchman laughed softl: “Two very charming old gentlemen who were summering on the French coast, and were so interested in every- thing. Could they come aboard? But, why not? It was a pleasure! Such harmless old children they looked— not at all like Leduc and Colferre of | the Prefecture!” “One more sign of the times" com- mented Capt. Francis Newcombe a little =hortly. *“And Pere Mouche?” “Been here nodded Capt. flinging himself New- “Don't tunnells. He raised his voice. he watch yourself!” how the sergeant in, Runnells said. A minute later Runnells ushered in a thick-set, florid-faced man. “Sergt. Mullins, sir!” he announced, and withdrew from the room. The sergeant looked inquiringly from one to the other of the two me: “I'm sorry to intrude, gentlcmen, he said. “It's Capt. Newcombe, T— Capt. Francis Newcombe waved his hand- pleasantl “Not at all, sergeant!” he said. “I am Capt. Newcombe. What can I do for you?” 5 “Well, sir,” said the man from Scot- “I'm not sayving you can do anything, and then again, maybe you can.” He glanced at the French- man, and coughed slight] 3 friend of aid Capt. Francis Newcombe ‘ery good, sir!” said Sergt. Mul- s. “Well, then, even if the papers hadn't been full of it all day, you'd probably know about it anyway, be- ing as how you were a friend of his. It's Sir Harris Greaves, sir—Sir Har- ris’ murder.” Murder of Sir Harris. Capt. Francis Newcombe, as though instinctively, turned toward an eve- ning paper that lay upon the table, its great headlines screaming the murder across the front page. “Good God, sergeant—yes" he e claimed. “It's a shocking thin Shocking!” ~ He jerked his head toward the paper, and glanced at Paul Cremarre. “You've read it, of , Paul?” “I've never read anything like it before,” said the Frenchman grimly. “The most wanton thing I ever heard of! Absolutely purposeless’’ “Don’t you he too sure about that, sir, Detective Sergt. Mullins crisply. “Things aren’t done purpose- lessly—leastways, not them Kind of things. “Exactly!” agreed Capt. Franc Newcombe. “Right you are, sergeant! But you'll pardon me if I appear a bit curious as to why you should have come to me about it.” “Well, sir,” said Sergt. Mullins, | “that's simple enough. You are the last one as had any conversation with Sir Harris before he was murdered.” | Capt. Francis Newcombe stared at | the Scotland Yard man in a puzzled way. am afraid T don’t quite under- stand, sergeant,” he sald a little hope- lessly, “According to the published | accounts, Sir Iarris was stabbed in | his bed, presumably during the early | morning hours, though no sound was heard, and the crime wasn't discover- ed until his man went to take Sir Harris his tea at the usual hour this Wear “Ah!” murmured the Frenchman. “That 8 another story! ] am afraid it | 18 true that his back is really bending | under the load. ingly; but though the continent ia| wide, it can only abgorb so much, and thera are always difficulties. He says | himself that we feed him too well.” | Capt. Francls Newcombhe frowned. | “Well, he's right, of course! Ledue and Colfere, eh? T don’t like it! 1f wa needed anything further to back us up in our decision lately that it was ahout time to lay low for a while, | we've got it here. There is tomorrow night's affair. of course, that natural-| 1y we will carry through, but after that I think we should come to a full stop for, say—a six months’ holiday. Personally, as you know, I'm rather anxious to make a little trip to Amer- fea. Il take Runnells along as my | man for the looks of it. He can play | at valeting and still enjoy himselt it he keeps out of mischief—which will see to it"—Capt. Francis New- That will account for th closing up of this apartment And_vou, Paul—I suppose it will the for you”" “The Frenchman shrugged his shoul- aors “Ah!" he said. know, but what does it matter?” laughed good-naturedly, i 1 have no attraction such as mon- | sieur with a charming ward in Amer- | jea, 1 am of the desolate, one of the' forlorn of the earth, in whom no one | more than & passing interest.” otland Yard and the Pre. aid the ex-captain of ter-| ials, with a grim smile. | “Monsieur,” said the Frenchman. | “1 ‘have often wondered about the ftourth—stragglers, 1 think you called | us that night—about the fourth strag- glor.” “You mean?” demanded Capt. Fran- els Newcombe, sharply. “Nothing!" sald the Frenchman. ¥One sometimes wonders, that is all. “'As to that T do not ' He He has done amaz- ||| in Perfect Comfort, Eat In comfort, laugh or sing without | | embarrassment or fear of testh slipping. | | Fanteeth makea false teath atay in place. | | Deordorizes. makes h pleasant. 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