"Found Dead"

Daily Telegraph (Napier), Volume 58, Issue 56, 9 April 1929, Page 11

"Found Dead"

BY FRED M. WHITE

copybight | published by special arran gement

Author of "The Shadow of the Dead Hand," "The Price of Silence," _ "The Golden etc.. ctc.

SYNOPSI8 OF PREVIOTIS CHAPTERS. CHAPTERS 1 & II. — One fine Sunday morning in Jate June Sir John Alortmain, seated on the terrace of his countvy residence, Mortmain's, is reflecting on the erents of the past two years. The deatli cf his two cousins in a rnotor aceident, and the consequent speedy death of their heartbroken father, had made hira heir to this fine estate on the north coast of De \on. By the same post conveying news of the raotor tragedv Sir John had also received a cnrt note frora Margaret Deberiliam, his sweetheart severing the eugagement, withont givjng any reason for his disraissal. After trying to communicate with her and failing, for she had left lier lodgings, he heard that Margaret had married a Rieliard Grimshaw. a rich Australian. After that he settlcd down to a life of loneliness. He is now living quietly in Devonshire. Farthing his butler. comes to tell hira luncheon is ready. Sir John arranges to go on a prawning expedition in the early hours of the following morning and gives Farthing his instructions. But the next dny he oversleeps himself, and hel'ore he is awake the hntler sees something so gruesorae that he sends Charles, one of the raen servants, to ask Sir John to corae downstairsCharles wakes his rnaster, who descends in his pyjanias. In the library Farthing points to the figure of a man lying on the floor. Mortmain asks whether he is badly hurt. "Dead,'' Farthing says. "Murdered." CHAPTERS III. & IV.— Sir John Mortmain discusses the situation in the library with his butler, who was the last man to see the library before tetiring for the night. The dead man was evidently a hook tliief, for a copy of a rnre edition of Boecaccio's "Decaneron" is lying beside hira. Sir John el ders Farthing to call in Dr. Hal'tley Beacon, and the local constable. He himself 'phones to the superintendent at Instaple. s The doctor pronounce the deatli to be due to a fractured skull. Inspector James Gore arrives, and, after investigating, arranges to r.ce the coroner with regard to the inquest. Dr. Deacon examines with a inagnifving glass the congealed blood at the hase of the skull. He feels that he is on the heels of a discovery, but refuses to commit himself. Inspector and doctor depart. Sir John retires to the morning room, where Farthing finds liiiti to mention that a ladv, who will not give her name, is waiting in the drawing-room. Sir John, at sight of his visitor, exclaims "Margaret!" "Jack," the woman milrmurs. "AYhy this honour. Mrs Grimshaw?" Sir John inquires icily. CHAPTER VI.— (Continued.) "T LEFT HIM THERE and then," Alargaret went on. "I told him that we mnst never meet again, and fliat though we had gone through the ceremony of marriage, he was no hnsband of mine." "And that was the nnliappy finish?" ATortmain asked. "Well, not quite," Margaret said with a watery smile. "The man was a thorough adventurer. It was a proper sliock to my pride to find that he did not Care for me in the least. He hated work himself, and did as little of it as ho possihly could. But he calculated that I did very well, and was likelv to do better, and that I had an income of my own as well. In other words, he proposed to live upon me. And after we had parted he wrote to me and suggested a bargain. Nobody knew we vrere married, he said, and nobody need ever know, if I preferred it that way. My opinion has alvvays been that he has already got a wife somewhere else, but that is hy the way. His idea was that I shoukl give him my own income on condition that the so-called marriage remained a secret, and that I should go on in the old way under my old name, otherwise he would cause a scandal and practically ruin me in the eyes of my f.riends. And I was so miserable that I consented. I insisted that he should leave England whicli, for a consulerable time, he did. Vlien he came back he began to hlackmail me. He took my private income and a good deal of my earnings besides. He keeps me so poor that sometimes I liave barely enough to eat. But whv go on ? I have told you the story of m_y life which I felt bound to do when fate brought us together in this amazing way. Do let me forget it for the moment and try and remember that 1 came here entirely on business." * * » '/^H, OF COURSE, OF COURSE," Mortmain said with assumed briskness. "I will tell you all I can, but I am afraid that I can't show you the room where the tragedy took plaee, because the police have the key. Still, there is a good deal of information that I can give you. and if you want to he reallv thorough, I can take you to the room upstairs where the body of the dead man is lying. But you will probably prefer to wait for the inquest. "I am not afraid to look at a corpse," Margaret said. "I have all sorts of unpleasant things to do in the way of business, and I cannot afford to neglect anything, however gruesome it is. My editor will expect everything that 1 ean send along and — well — will you think it very unwomanly of me if I suggost " Mortmain got up from his chair readily enough. He didn't want to think too much just then of the strange story he had just heard, because there wotild be plentv of time fcr that. Ho led the way Up the broad stairs along a corridor and flung open the door of a room in which was the bed where the dead man lay. 'There," he said. "But don't dwell on it too long." Bravely enough. Margaret gazed down on the placid featureS of the dead ntan. Then something like a stifled cry broke from her lips. atid she would have fallen had not Mortmain caught her. "Heavens, what is the matter?" he cried. "My husband," she gasped. "Richard Grimshaw." CHAPTER VII. HPHE FEW WORDS cOming faintly from Margaret's lips seenied tfi have tlle most extfaordinary effiect up6n MortmaiA. There vf&s a look. of niinglod hcrror and surprise in his eyes, together with what might have hcen remorse, though it was an entire!v differpnt emotion. He glanced hastlly at Margaret to see if his feelings had conveytd any sort of an impi'essifin to her, but she had dropped doTTn on a settee, white and mdtidrilesS and for the moment entirely unable to moveto

"This is horrible," Mortmain said thiekly. "Are you quite sure that ypu 1 ave not. made some ghastly misiake?" "Oh, there is no mistake," Margaret murmured. "That man lying there is my husband." 1 Mortmain was silent for a moment or two, turning this new development over in his mind. He hardly knetv what to think or what to do for the ! best. He was not unconscious of a certain satisfaction plaving about in the back of his brain, the satisfaction that there was no longcr any barrier between himself and the woman whom he still loved as dearly as ever. He had cleared himself in her eyes, whicli was one good thing done, and now fate had made the way plain for him to the mevitable conclusion. BUT THERE WA 8 MUCH TO DO before that, niucli pain and gossip and scandal. though perhaps Margaret. as yet, had not fullv recoynised it. To hegin with, the story of her marriage would have to be made public, she would have to tell her amazing ! facts to the coroner's court for all the world to gloat over. It was a cruel chanee that had brought her to this pass, but then, on the other hand, if she had not elected to do her work so thoroughly the man lying on the bed might have been buried without recognition and Margaret allowed to live for years under the iffipression that she still had a husband in some part of the world. "Do you quite understand the position ?" Mortmain asked. _ "I think so," Margaret replied. 5 I shnil have to stand at the witness table and testify that this man was my husbnnil. I shall have to tell the whole story, but I am not gomg to flinch from it. I shall he quite ready when the time comes." "You know all about him, oi course?" .Mortmain asked. « * * "ASA MATTER OF FACT, I know nothiug," Mortmain said. "Oh, let us get out of here. Downstairs T shall he able to think and speak more coherently." Mortmain led the way back to the drawing room, and there Margaret grew more cairn and collected. J'It is a very strange fact," she said. "But I know nothing whatever ahout Rieliard Grimshaw. He was always a very reticent man, and, beyond speaking casually from time to time about the relatives in Australia, he told me very little. I don'b even know if he has any parents or not. There may be hrothers and sisters, for all I know to the contrary. I was not curious at the time, because I thought that I should learn everything in due course. And you must remember that I had not ku own Riclmrd Grimshaw long before we were married. He always appeared to liave ample nieans, and was quite a clever journalist. I shall he able to tell the coroner very little. "Why should you tell the coroner anything at all?" Mortmain asked. "Why should you face such a cruel and unnecessary ordeal? Let the man he buried, and if the police authorities like to carry the case any further, there is no reason wliy you should help them. Let it he a secret hetween us." (To be Continued.)