8
MIND READERS
(Continued from Page $)
the grate of the dining-room, and reconstructed, it
Early one morning, somewhere in the Bay of Biscay, a British destroyer came up over the hori- zon behind the slow-moving steam- ship Emil and signalled the cap- tain to stop. The Emil was a small ship that carried a large number of pleasure-seeking passen-. gers to the Moroccan ports and Madeira. She had left London at midnight on the night of the robbery, and the pretty Anglo- Spanish girl who had already be- come the belle of the ship had joined the Emil just before she cast off from one of the docks.
London
Miss Avilez protested vigorous- ly against her arrest, but rather blotted her copybook by attempt- ing to throw a small package overboard-a piece of extrava÷ gance on her part, since the pack- perfectly cut age contained 17 emeralds, none of which was under ten carats.
The matron who looked after her on the destroyer brought her ta London and to Mr. Rater. Sha replied to all his questions with the hauteur proper to a daughter of hidalgos.
The next morning
there ap peared in the London Press communication very carefully composed by the Orator himself. He wrote at greater length than he spoke,
"Part of the proceeds of the Burford-square robbery have been recovered by the arrest of a wo- man calling herself Inez Avilez. It appears that the leader of the gang responsible for this cleverly planned robbery, whilst he was careful of his own skin, had not only sent the woman on a route where she could be easily traced, but had left evidence possibly with the idea of using her as a de- coy to draw attention from him- self to her destination."
On the day following the pretty Anglo-Spaniard's conviction (she was a British subject from Gibral- tar) a second inspired paragraph appeared:
“This woman was deliberately sacrificed by the man who plan- ned the rabbery, and goes to pri- son to bear the punishment of his crime."
It was a clumsily written para graph. and there were several sub-editors who would have liked to alter it a little, but the Orator knew his man though he might not have recognised Mr. Len Wit- lon if he had seen him pacing the floor of his expensive sulte in Aix, crazily incoherent, planning vengeance for the insult that had been put upon him.
"I've got Witlon,” reported the Orator: laconically.
And yet his superiora - knew there was nothing in the world. to associate Witlon with the rob- bery. He had his perfectly turn- ed klibis, and witnesses to prove his presence in France at the hour the emeralds were stolen.
"I'm a mind-reader, too," said the Orator, when they asked him for an explanation; “And just at
this moment I'm reading Witlon's. What he's saying about
me at this minute is enough to make me turn in my grave. Only I'm not dead."
·· Mr. Len Witlon had a brilliant associate, one John B. Stimmings, who came at the request of his master to Aix, not knowing the condition of Mr. Len Witlon's mind.
"Too bad about Inez." said into Mr. Stimmings as he came the ornate sitting-room and clos- that. ed the door. "Clever kid I'll bet this man Rater framed up something on her-——”
Rater "This man
couldn't frame a picture," spluttered Len, his ordinarily good-looking face swollen and purple with anger. "Rater! They call him the Ora- tor. don't they! I'll make him talk! Look at this!"
He slammed down two press "He cuttings before his visitor. couldn't get anything on 'me. The Surete came after me the next morning, and there was I snug in bed in my villa at Auteuil.”
"Up in Paris,” said John B.. "they talk about asking you, to
leave France —
"Leave nothing! They know. I wouldn't touch a thing in France. I'm going to England to see this Rater fellow.”
Mr. Stimmings looked at him curiously.
“Count me out,” he said, “Take one ticket-single. You're going dippy."
The absurdity of the very sug- gestion that it was not a brilliant idea brought a fleeting smile to the angry man.
me!
I
"Listen! You know know just what that fellow's thinking. I've got right behind the thing he calls his mind. John, do you remember when I went after the Infanta's pearls and then went back to Madrid. four
days after? Did anybody know me or recognise me? I'm going to show you my biggest bit_of work."
He · might have added his ugliest, for in a tempestuous and sleepless night he had designed a crime that had no equal in his brilliant record.
A week later there arrived in London an elderly English gentle- man who gave his name at the best London hotel as Colonel Per- shin. He had a British
pass- port: he was apparently a fussy, rather quick-tempered man, who had a special business in life. He staved at the Wheetham Hotel. which was at once the most obg- cure and the most fashionable in London, and he read the news- papers with great industry.
A few days after his arrival Mr. Rater received. a- scented letter. It was written by a lady who signed herself "One... who: Knows, and it ran:
If you wish to know where the reet of the Perello emeralds are to be found. I can tell you. want you to promise me that I shall not be arrested, but, know- ing that a police officer cannot make any such promises. not ask you to put that into writ-
can
+
THE CHINA MAIL FRIDAY SUPPLEMENT, MAY 7. 1937
ing. I will come to Scotland Yard at 8 o'clock on Saturday evening. Will you be in ·Your room?
The Orator read and re-read the communication. Where wo- men were concerned he believed in miracles. And yet he was satisfied in his mind that behind. the letter was the inspiration of Mr.
Witlon. For a long, long time he stood by his window look- ing on to the Embankment, star- ing at the river, and thinking himself into the mind of his
enemy.
There was at the Yard at this time a most unpopular Assistant Commissioner, who did not like the Orator. Major Dawlton had had his police training in India. He was an incurable theorist, and had a weakness for interfering with his executive. He summon- ed the Orator into his office.
"Come, come, Mr. Rater," he said, a little pompously. "This won't do at all. Here are emer- alds of an enormous value stolen under the eyes of the police, after you had been specifically instruct- ed to protect their owner! Have you seen this morning's -news- papers?"
"I can't read" said the Orator wearily, and waited long enough for the Assistant Commissioner to get apoplectic before he con- cluded "newspapers when I have got work on hand.”
"It is a scandal, Mr. Rater. Really, I am ashamed to meet my friends at the club. They are constantly asking me why we don't get detectives in from out- side. And I think it would be an excellent scheme.”
"You don't want detectives, you want mind-readers to deal with Witlon," said the Orator again.
said
"Stuff and nonsense!' Major Dawlton.
It was a peaceful Saturday afternoon at Scotland Yard. The day was warm and the double windows that shut out the noises of the Thames Embankment were wide open.
Sunshine bathed the deserted wharves and warehouses that form so fine a skyline on the southern bank, and laid on the river a sheet of fretted gold.
The tramway-cars were more or less empty, the promenade given over ta leisurely sight-see- ing folk who had brought their children for a stroll.
Inspector Rater took off his pince-nez with a sigh, folded the minute he had been reading and returned it to its envelope. He gazed pensively through the open window.
A tug drawing a string of barges was moving slowly up- stream. Timber barges stacked high with planks of yellow pine. On the Embankment a few loun- gers leaned over the parapet.
He turned his head as the door opened and Major Dawlton came in: Without a word he handed the letter to his superior. The Major fixed his seyeglass, read and sneered.
"That, I suppose, is the art of detection," he said, with heavy irony-the Orator was ver
the good work at Scotland Ya is done by informers. I should like to see this woman when she comes.”
"If she comes,” said the out
tor softly.
"You think it is a hoax? I don't agree. It is probably some jea- lous confederate who has been badly treated, These scraps of in-
formation have come to the Yard every day since. I have been here.”
"They have come every day I've been here," said the Orator, “and that's seventeen years.'
The Major snorted under this implication of his inexperience.
"She won't come, but he will." “Witlon? Rubbish! He's in France. That sort of scoundrel is not going to put his nose into this country, and if he did we've sufficient evidence to convict him of simple larceny. I'll be here at eight o'clock this evening.”
"Make it a quarter to," gested the Orator, venom in his eye.
sug-
Major Dawlton, sitting in the office chair, yawned.
"She's sold you,” he said. "I told you not to come,"
said Mr. Rater. He stood with his back to the wall, glooming down at the Assistant Commissioner thoughtfully.
at his watch.
The Major looked
"I'll give her another quarter. of an hour-
事
"Whee-e-smack!”
Something whizzed past him; he felt the disturbance of air, and turning his startled head saw the glass of a framed photograph splinter disastrously.
There was no sound of a shot -no report.
He was on his feet in an înstant and ran to the window.
Something struck the sill on which his hand rested, ripped jagged wound in the stone and brought down the plaster from the ceiling.
“I'd keep away, from that win- dow," said the Orator gently. "They tell me he's a wonderful rifle shot, but I thought he'd oper ate from the Council building. The barge was certainly a bril- liant idea."!
Major Dawlton's face white as death.
"Shooting!" he gasped: At
me!"
"At me," said the Orator pen- sively. "I hope those fellows have located him. I should think they would.”
As he spoke he saw two motor- launches filled with men shoot out from the cover of the para- pet; they were
e making
for the barge.
sai the
"That's all right," Orator. "Now we've got some- thing to charge him with.
"They were shooting at me!". squeaked the Major.
said
"I told you not to come,' Mr. Rater, but the joy in his eyes belied his tone of sympathy.
"The general idea was a good one," said the Orator to the Chief Commissioner, "Witlon knew my weakness for fresh air, and he must have made a reconnaissance and seen how easy it was to
was to look into my room with the window open. Oh, yes, I knew he was in England one of my men picked him up when he landed at South- ampton from Havre.”
The Chief Commissioner's starn gaze was axed on the Orator.
“But you didn't dream he'd be shooting into your room, or you wouldn't have allowed the Major to come ?" he said.
The Orator did not answer, im- mediately. Then he sighed.
"I suppose I wouldn't,” said.
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