1937-09-24 — Page 5

طریقہ

THE CHINA MAIL FRIDAY: SUPPLEMEN

SEPTEMBER 21, 1937

"MYSTERY AT BRAY"

THAT'LL be all, Brent

wish to be alone.” Stephen Brent looked up from the pile of papers he was sorting at his desk. Behind his specta- clès his dark eyes stared back at the older man, questioningly."

"Very well, Mr. Chisholm. Are

you sure

"Perfectly." There was an aci- dulous note in Cedric Chisholm's voice. "I want to be alone, Brent Leave the french windows as they are and get out. And tell Fields and my daughter that I don't wish to be disturbed.”

<

game

Cedric Chisholm's secretary left the study without another word. As the door closed after him the man who had come from South Africa and taught the London Stock Exchange its own breathed a sigh and rose from his deep leather armchair. From a niche beside a tall bookcase he took a sporting rifle, looked to its breech, and returned to his chair, which faced the open french win- dows. Twilight was falling across the Surrey, hills, and the garden of Chisholm's home lengthening shadows played hide- and-seek among the bushes and shrubs.

in

There was a grim expression on the face of the man who had lift- ed himself from a mining en- gineer on the Rand to the" pin- nacle of a successful mine-owner, and there was something studied in and calculating in the way which his fingers touched the trigger-guard of the sports-rifle:

and

"No damned Gaynor's setting foot in Bray" he muttered to himself, and in the tired grey eyes a sudden gleam lived and burned.

The minutes ticked by, Cedric Chisholm waited, the rifle held across his knees. Drowsi ness assailed him, but he shook it off, stirred himself, and leaned forward, peering into the deepen- ing dusk

Suddenly his body tensed. He saw someone moy in the gar den, and watched. Whoever it was, the person was making for the

Chisholm summer house. raised his rifle butt to his should- er rose slowly to his feet, his eyes squinting along the sights, the finger on the trigger pressing slowly.

The sound of a shot awoke the household.?

Fields, the butler, was the first to reach the study, to find Cedric Chisholm stretched in death be- fore his armchair. He had been As shot through the heart. Fields lifted the body blood from the old fighter's veins was soak- ing into the piled Turkish carpet.

Nearly two hours later Detec- tive-Inspector Anthony Slade, of Department X2, New Scotland Yard, was called into the office of the Assistant-Commissioner in charge of the C.ID. With his customary brusqueness the A.C came to the point at once.

Does Cedric Chisholm mean: anything to you, Slade ?" he ask- ea

"The South African mineowner and financier””

"That's the man. He's been shot, and the Surrey police want us to run the rule over the case. They think they've got the mur derer"

"And they won't arrest him?” “It isn't quite so simple as that.

sta

planted, who did it? We haven' got a line on that.”

case has a few interes

Fo unusual angles

Chishole was found with "Did the daughter, Celia, know

Gaynor was

coming?”. a sporting rife near his body.

"Yes, he phoned in the morn- Yes, his own, and loaded. That looks as

ugh he had been ex ing. Had to see her about some- thing. Some lovers business pecting to give trouble to some- one. The second interesting an- about his leaving the country.”

"Did she mention the call to gle is the some one: Douglas

anyone?" Gaynor, son of Chisholm's oldest and bitterest business rival. The rivalry extends back to their min ing days in Rhodesia. Benjamin Gaynor died two years ago, and his son had to go and fall in love with Celia Chisholm. You can see why the Surrey police want to move with care, Slade. If Gay- nor's arrested there'll be millions for the defence. His father was just about as successful as Chis- hölm himself.”

"Yet they're almost convinced Douglas Gaynor shot Chisholm?” "Yes, almost. In the pocket of

Short Story

his dust-coat was a small-calibred automatic. A bullet from that gun killed Chisholm. Now, from what I understand, Gaynor ad- mits going down to the Chisholm place it's called Bray, and isn't far from Guildford-armed. But he says the gun found in his poc- ket isn't his. He claims that he hung his coat in the hall, and that his gun was taken and this other weapon substituted for it. Well, I won't keep you any longer, Slade. Go down and see how things square up. The local man is Inspector Trawle from Guild- "ford Good luck."

A fast police-car drove Slade and his chief assistant, Sergeant Chinton, out of the Metropolitan area, and it was shortly after midnight when the two CLD. men arrived at Bray and were met by Inspector Trawle, a thick-set man with mouse-coloured hair and a trick of rubbing his under hp with his thumb when in thought- ful mood..

"What about finger-prints.?" Was Sla

first question. The local man shrugged. "If there were any I don't sup-- pose you" would be here. The gun we found in Gaynor's pocket was wiped clean. But if it was

"Not likely. She's about as set on Gaynor as he is on her. That's another snag- Would he have shot her father? Not a bright idea of helping things along with the daughter, is it??

Trawle was a matter-of-fact individual A good policeman, Slade had no doubt, but just now considerably out of his depth.·

"It might have been a put-up job between them," Clinton point- ed out, as matter-of-fact as the local man.

Trawle shook his head.

By Leonard R. Gribble

Not a chance. That girl isn't the type. She may be fiery, but 'she's bloodstock, and that counts,

even when you're in love."

Slade agreed.

"Who found the body?” "Fields, the butler.” "Who was last with Chisholm?” "His secretary, fellow glasses named Brent.”

with

"Where were they when the shot was fired? By the way, take it there was only one shot heard?"

was

"That's right. Gaynor was in the garden, walking towards", the summer-house. So he says. He can't prove it, and I shouldn't say he had to. Chisholm killed by someone standing not far from the summer-house. The the secretary says he was in house, in his own room. The "daughter says she was waiting by the conservatory door. The but- ler was with the cook-in the kit- chen: At least, that much has been verified.”

"I see. Everybody spread about -very inconveniently.”

"It looks bad for Gaynor.” "What about the gun?" asked Slade. "Must be a number on it.”

"There was. It's been filed off." "The same "forethought,

eh?

You got

armedz

Bynor

father and the

the Ga Couldn't stan

when

natching up

·looks to me. he found out young his daughter were together on the sly Reverted to the old Colonial type. Keep off my land or expect what you get. That accounts for the sports rifle. He'd got wind of the secret visit, and wanted to throw a scare into Gaynor. Gaynor was ready to throw one back Can't say now, of course, if Chisholm meant to do the youngster any real dam- age. I shouldn't have thought so. After all, he's been a local J.P. for some years, and he knows how far or, I mean, he did know

how far he could go with throw- ing a scare into someone he didn't want."

"I suppose the same applies to Gaynor?”

Trawle shrugged with almost Continental expressiveness.

"Chisholm's dead, isn't he?” he asked dourly.

"All right. I'll see, Gaynor,” said Slade.

ני

Douglas Gaynor was a well- made young man, lithe-limbed, clear-eyed, and just now pale and tight-lipped. Slade's immediate reaction was one of liking. There was something about the young man that suggested the broad wind-swept veld on which he was reared, something in the poise of his finely sculptured head that hinted at a fearless heart and an alert brain.

But he was troubled when Slade saw him.

• ¿ didn't kill him, In-

I swear spector,

"I

said quietly heard the shot, came running in,

and flung my coat down. In the hall, I think. The door was open. I don't remember. Everything happened so quickly, and-

"Just a minute, Mr. Gaynor,” saic Slade. "There is one point I want made clear now. Did you see the flash of a gun?”

The denial came without sitation:

"Very well, you must have some idea of from which direction the shot came."

Both Tard men wat ed the other closely. But the look on Gaynor's face was one of frank puzzlement

(Continued on Page 7)

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