Evening Star Newspaper, September 29, 1935, Page 103

Magazine Section CHAPTER V - WOKE next morning feeling dog-tired, and did not sit down to breakfast until ten o'clock. Lucille Paradene remained in her own room. I was glad she did not appear, for I wanted time to think things out in the calmer light of,a new day. Where the body of the murdered man hdd been concealed, 1 had not the least idea. But why on earth had it been taken back to my grandfather’s bedroom? I could see no motive for this extraordinary action. The discovery had certainly given me a shaking, and I had little doubt that it had been the work of the unknown man in the library. And then things began to dawn upon me. The intruder had warned me that, if I remained in Falcon Castle, I would share the same fate as Mr. Paul; now it seemed that all this was probably a deliberate effort to scare me out of the house. I finished my coffee, and began to fill my pipe. I suppose 1 have a stubborn streak in me; anyhow, the thought that somebody was trying to frighten me put my back up. All 1 wanted was to come to grips again with the man, and I swore he would not get away so easily next time. " “You haven't eaten any breakfast, sir,” said Dunstan reproachfully, looking at the food which I had hardly tasted. I shook my head. “‘Carrying a dead body out to a shed isn't particularly good for one’s appetite. Look here, Dunstan.”” I continued, “I want you to keep cool, and your wife, too. There's nothing for any of us to worry about."” “I wish I could believe it, sir.” muttered Dunstan anxiously. *That man last night — you said he threatened your life. . . ."” “Pure bluff!” I told him confidently. “Somebody's trying to scare us away." “Not much good to do that, sir, with the roads blocked." “Mr. Roxburgh at the Inn last night sug- - gested we all move down there."” “Ah, yes — the Inn," said Dunstan eagerly. “And you agreed, sir?" “We stop here.” I said firmly, ‘“‘until the roads are cleared and I can get to the police.” Dunstan seemed uneasy. ‘‘Is it wise to re- main, Mr. Irvine? We don’t know what might happen. . . ."” I changed the subject by pulling out the little bunch of keys I had found on the library floor. ““Our visitor last night left these behind him,” I said. “One of them fits the desk in the ibrary. How the dickens can they have got into his hands?"’ Dunstan looked at them and gave a start. “I remember these, sir. I think the master * used to keep them in his dressing table. Per- haps — perhaps the man got them off the body of Mr. Paul.” “Possibly,” I agreed. “But how did Mr. Paul get hold of them?” “He may have searched the master’s bed- *“room, sir,” suggested Dunstan. “It isn't for me to say, but I've wondered if Mr. Paul came here for that purpose.” “You mean, he may have been searching | © the room when he was murdered? 1 wish to heaven I knew what's behind all this, Dun- stan.” Theservant's glance strayed to the window, and I could see he was thinking of Mr. Roger Barnett at Falcon Lodge. ~ It was in the same direction my own thoughts were travelling and, after Dunstan had cleared away the breakfast things, I did some rapid thinking. I had played a waiting game long enough, I decided. The time had come to make some definite move. I got to my feet, slipped on an overcoat, and set out for Falcon Lodge. The chauffeur with the unpleasant smile showed me into the sitting room, and Mr. Barnett himself came forward with out- stretched hand. “Hullo, my dear Irvine,” he said, looking =~at me intently. ‘You seem glum this morning. Anything wrong?"' “You can judge that for yourself in a moment,” I retorted. “‘I've come to tell you something, Mr. Barnett — and to ask you one or two questions.” He smiled. “About renting Falcon Castle? Pray sit down. If my offer wasn’t high enough, ,. I'm prepared to ask my friend Fletcher —" “Your offer is already so high, Mr. Bar- nett,” I said, ‘‘that I'd like to know a little more about it."” “Do you doubt my friend Fletcher’s finan- cial position?"’ “To be frank, Mr. Barnett,” I returned quietly, “I doubt the very existence of your friend Fletcher.” THIS WEEK A hand with a revolver appeared around the edge of the door. There was a burst of flame alcon Castle W hich are frzena’: and which are 2 foes? Alan can only guess — and his Ii fe fiang.r on the answer (ntinuing a thrilling new serial by AUGUSTUS MUIR He lay back in his chair with a laugh. “Now what on earth has put that crazy notion into your head?"” “I'll be frank again, Mr. Barnett. I think you're anxious to occupy Falcon Castle yourself." The man sat up. “What on earth are you driving at?”’ “I'm trying to suggest,” I said steadily, “that you should put all your cards on the table.” “You're talking in riddles!” “Riddles, yes —and I think you know the solution,” I returned at once. ‘‘You and Lucille Paradene!” “My dear Irvine,” he protested amiably, “why drag in the charming Miss Paradene?”’ His good-humored smile was rousing my anger. ‘‘Because she’s working with you!” I shot back at him. “Do you think I don’t know she came over here two nights ago?"” His surprise quickly faded, and the smile returned to his features. ‘““‘An observant young man, I perceive! And did you know she was over here last night as well? . . . Ah, I see it’s news to you, Mr. Irvine. Just how much has Miss Paradene told you?” “Nothing!” The word was hardly out of my mouth when I saw I had made a tactical error, for a look of relief crossed Mr. Barnett’s face, and he gave a short laugh. “I thought so! You may wender what that young lady is doing at Falcon Castle. She'll never tell you that, Mr. Irvine! But let me Illustration by Karl Godwin correct you on one point. We aren’t working together. On the contrary. She came over here to my house because I compelled her.” “‘Compelled?” I repeated in some surprise. . “Precisely.” Mr. Bamnett lit a cigarette. I asked her to come and see me. She didn’t refuse. Why? Because I knew the game she was playing, and I can assure you it’s nothing to brag to the police about.” ‘“‘And what about your own game?”’ I cried, facing him squarely. ‘‘What about the murder of Mr. Paul!” Mr. Barnett waved his cigarette in the air; “‘My dear Irvine, how absurd! Miss Paradene has already accused me of that. Yes, she told me about it two nights ago. Is there the « slightest evidence against me?"’ He stared up at the wreaths of smoke. “Be careful you