Evening Star Newspaper, October 27, 1935, Page 93

= FF ls bde — b i il W o AL .. LR, N . - TR T SR A —— Magazine Section gentleman to whom we owe so much. You remember the end of our conver- sation at the lawyer's?” “l have thought about it many times,” the insurance man admitted, looking up suddenly. ““Our cld bene- factor being done away with, you mean?”’ “That’s what I’ve had on my mind,” the young man confessed. ‘“Now, I'll tell you something I didn’t let on to at the time; we were all sort of struck dumb that morning. I was in the Channel Islands at the time that old Watson was found dead. I was re- porting on a special trial in Guernsey. We heard of this affair, and a friend and I sailed a small boat over to the island. We were both journalists, both inquisitive — although I never for one moment dreamed that I was going to be ever personally interested. “There is still doubt of course as to whether it was a murder, accident cr suicide, but my pal and I came to a certain decision. We believed that this old chap was murdered, and what I have asked you all to come and talk over to-night is just this: I think we ought to do something about it. The police have practically dropped the case. When I think what we all owe to the old gentleman, I think it's up to us to show a little gratitude and look into it.” There was a murmur of assent. ““Miss Ann is going to help me,” he continued; “'in fact, she has started on her share of the work already — and if there's anything any of you others can do, of course you're welcome. | rather fancy, though, that we don't need much outside help except of course from the police.” I would be glad to contribute any- thing towards the expenses if neces- sary,” the stout man declared. *So would 1.” “And 1.” The young man smiled his thanks. “Now,” he directed the maitre d’hétel, “business is over. We will get on with the dinner.” The young lady typist who passed by the name of Miss Ann Smith rose from her chair with a little sigh of resignation, covered over her machine, picked up her notebook and entered the sanctum of Mr. Herbert Moun- tain, managing director of Invest- ments Limited. That gentleman leaned back in his chair. “Sit down, Miss Smith,” he invited. Miss Smith, recognizing that the daily battle of wits had commenced, obeyed at once and opened her book. Her employer eyed her approvingly. “Been here a month today, haven’t you, Miss Smith?” he enquired. “I believe that is so,” she admitted. “Comfortable?”’ *Quite, thank you.” “Satisfied?" “I find my salary rather small.” Mr. Mountain rustled the pile of papers on his desk. He was a man apparently of youthful middle age, with sallow complexion, dark eyes of which he was very proud, a tooth- brush moustache; he was expensively dressed. “We consider three pounds a very excellent remuneration,” he remarked. “But of cousre it would be quite open to you, Miss Smith, to qualify for a better position, and naturally a — er — higher salary. Tell me how you like the business?” “So far as [ have been able to under- stand it,” she replied, *it seems to me quite interesting. You seem to deal in every sort of effort at money-making.” “We deal in everything by which it is possible to make money,” he told her proudly. “We are ready to pit our brains against anyone’s.”’ “Very clever,” she commented. “Yes, we are clever,” he admitted. “I have never heard anyone deny it. It is a pleasure for us to make money for others so long as we can be sure that we are making it for ourselves. We are not above small transactions either. Now you yourself, Miss Smith, you must have a little money put by. Why don’t you invest it with us? You are probably getting four or five per cent for it. As often as not we can get you ten.” “Very pleasant,” she remarked. “But I should be afraid of losing.” “I should make myself personally responsible for seeing that you didn’t lose,” Mr. Mountain assured her. *‘I should not like to be under an obligation to anyone.” THIS WEEK Legacy of Adventure “You need not be. We often have schemes which we, the directors, deal with ourselves, and when it is possible, we allow a friend to share. If in course of time you prove yourself worthy of our confidence and you should happen, for example, to become my private secretary, you could make a great deal of money.” *‘And remain honest?”’ she asked. ““Honesty is only relative,” he re- marked. “And virtuous?”’ Mr. Mountain’s eyes glistened. “There are degrees of virtue,” he ventured. Miss Ann Smith scratched her rather dainty little nose with the end of her pencil. She had the air of one confronted with a problem. Mr. Mountain looked at the clock. “If you will be my guest for lunch to-day,” he invited, ‘I will answer all the questions you care to ask me about the business.” Mr. Mountain at any rate knew how to order lurich. He had chosen a corner table in a small but quite select restaurant. “‘Business first, please,”” Miss Ann Smith begged as che finished her caviar. ‘'How many directors are there of Investments Limited?” He made a liltle grimace hut answered promptly. “Five. There is myself, Sir Percy Hardrose, Lord Quillingham, Alderman Fraser, and for the fifth, we have at present a vacancy."” “What happened to number five?”’ she asked. “He died.” ““What was his name?"’ Mr. Mountain hesitated for a mo- ment, then he answered: “Mr. Des- mond Rooke. He changed his name when he resigned and called himself Watson.” Ann was suddenly aware that her companion was watching her closely. She changed the conversation. “Tell me hcw you make your money.” ““We have special sources of infor- mation in the matter of gold shares and the Far East markets,” he told her. “One of our directors is on the Stock Exchange. We have capital. We take our friends in with us when there is a good thing going, and we never hesitate to share our profits. Of course we are not philanthropists,” he concluded. “If we do come across a bad egg, to be frank, we dress it up and try to sell it. We generally suc- ceed. How much money have you to invest, Miss Smith?"’ ““Well, I could raise ten thousand pounds.” "Wonderiul' And you are content to do typing?”’ *“I choose my posts,” she reminded him. “I like to see a little of life. I don’t suppose 1 shall stay with you long. I shall go somewhere else.” “I hope you will never leave us,” he said fervently. “Tell me some more about the business,” she invited. “Well, I'll tell you a condition we have among our directors which is very unusual,”” he went on, “but it makes a happy family of us. We have an agreement to bequeath half of the money we make in the business to the capital fund of the firm.” “‘Never heard of such a thing.” “It’s been done before,” he assured her. “Three years ago Sidney Vallans was a director. He was a bachelor with very few friends. His will was proved at ninety thousand pounds, and he left the whole of it to the firm’s capital account. I am a single man. My own will is made, and I have left everything to the firm — so have the other directors.” “Supposing I invested ten thousand pounds, should you expect me to leave that capital to the firm?"” she asked. “Why, I scarcely know you!” “No,” he told her. “We should ex- pect you to turn half the profits you made from the ten thousand back to us — that is, if you joined the firm permanently.’” “Did your last director who changed his name leave his money to the firm?"” Mr. Mountain frowned. “As- it happens, that is rather an unfortunate question,” he confessed. “Mr. Rooke Continued from page four did what it is always possible for any dishonest person to do. He deceived us. He made a will turning his money back to the company and when he re- tired, he went to another lawyer and made another will leaving all his money to unknown relatives. The first time,” Mr. Mountain concluded in- genuously, “that anyone has let the firm down in such a fashion.” “Did he have a long illness?”’ she asked. ““He met with an accident of some sort, and living on an island, he could not get a doctor, and that was the end of him.” She sighed. ‘““And very nearly the end of this delightful lunch, I am afraid.” “Come and see my water colors before you go back,”” he invited. “I’ll wait until I am a director of the firm,” she answered. It was a week later when Miss Ann Smith opened the door of her em- ployer’s private office and made the announcement : ““Three gentlemen to see you, Mr. Mountain.” Mountain, who was ceated behind his desk signing letters, half rose to his feet with a frown. “What name, Miss Smith?”" he demanded. “I didn’t intend to see any- one else this afternoon.” The three gentlemen, however, were already in the room, and one closed the door behind him. There was young Colin Rooke, very sun-burnt, and attired in a well- cut, blue serge suit; a pleasant-faced burly man of undcubted nautical appearance; and a powerfully built man, who had a very official look about him. It was he who took the lead. “I am Inspector Williams of the C.ID., Scotland Yard,” he said. “This young gentleman is Mr. Colin Rooke, a distant relative of a late partner in your firm. The other Now Listerine, that wonderful anti- septic for colds and sore throat, has a new baby brother—Listerine Cough Drops. They are a modern, scientitic blending of ingredients that relieve coughs, throat tickle and other irri- tations quickly and safely. You get a big package of them absolutely tree with the purchase of a large size bot- tle of Listerine. Lambert Pharmacal Company, St. Louis, Missouri. Listerine PHAKMACAT COmMPANY ¢ gentleman is Captain Bowles, the Harbor Master at Guernsey.” Mountain was etanding up now. “If you have business with me,” he said coldly, “‘get on with it. We have had a busy day and I was just leaving. I was not aware that my late partner had any relatives.” “Ours is a simple mission, although a serious one,” the inspector an- nounced. “Captain Bowles, is this the man for whom you found a pilot on March the fifteenth last to take his yacht over to one of the adjacent islands?” “No manner of doubt about it,” was the confident reply. “He was wearing a yachting cap and oilskins, as well he might have on such a dirty night, but I should have known him anywhere. That’s him, sir.” “Of course I'm the man,” Mr. Mountain acknowledged. “I was —" The inspector broke in: “I have a warrant for your arrest for the murder of Mr. Desmond Rooke, your late partner.” “I never heard anything so ridicu- lous in my life,” Mr. Mountain ex- claimed. “Why, we were the greatest friends! What possible motive couvld 1" He stopped short. The hand which had stolen into a drawer of his desk became nerveless. Mountain dropped the revolver to the floor and collapsed. He was half carried into the police car which was waiting in the street. “It takes them like that some- times,” the inspector observed, as he attached the handcuffs to his prisoner. ““They put a brave face on for a min- ute or two, and then they go phut.” It was several hours later, and in very different surroundings, before Miss Ann Smith found herself com- pletely recovered. She was seated opposite to Colin Rooke, her fellow legatee, in a restaurant near Bury Street. “After all,” she reflected, “it is false StimuisHousSA L ~—— ——— Il sentiment to be sorry for anyone just because he is frightened to death.” ‘““Mountain deserves to hang if ever a man did,” her companion de- clared. ““Tell me some more about it,” she begged. “Well, Mountain had all the luck up to a certain point,” her companion explained. “He arrived off Guernsey in a falling mist, so that no one actu- ally saw what sort of a craft he was on. He was able to get rid of the pilot he~ had picked up the moment they reached their destination, by sending him back in Rooke’s own private launch. “Rooke seems to have been alone in the bungalow he was occupying until his house was finished and when the workmen arrived in the morning, they found his body on the rocks with his skull battered in.” “What about Mr. Mountain?” “There was no trace of Mountain ~ nor any trace of any boat. That is where the detective work began. We found the yacht at last in the harbor of a fishing village on the Portuguese coast. There it was, absolutely dere- lict, no papers on board, everything destroyed that could be destroyed. Mountain must have found his way to Lisbon or Oporto and so home. “‘As a matter of fact, if you had not found that letter from Rooke refusing to lend the firm the fifty thousand pounds they were in need of and the other letter from -Quillingham to Mountain practically ordering him to go over and see Rooke, I should never have known where to make a start. What probably happened was that Rooke refused to change his mind about the loan and Mountain, not . knowing that a second will had been made, pushed Rooke over the cliffs in the belief that his money would revert to the firm.” “Instead of which,” she remarked smiling, *“it came to us! All the same,” she added a moment or two later, “I don’t see how they can prove that Mountain committed the murder.” - ““There isn’t any proof,” he agreed, “but — Mountain confessed.” (Another Rooke story, *“The Po and the Emeraild,” will ."g'nlay in the next issue.) with each bottle of Lis ne This offer good in the United States only