Evening star., 1941-02-27

used to his orderly. Long ago, as
quite a little girl, Brinda had
learned that, when her guardian
employed that tone. he expected
nothing less than military obedience.
She argued no more. But as she
turned reluctantly toward the house
Keeping phone in the rear hall, her
attention still strained backward,
her ears were alert for every sound;
her eyes, deep and mysterious,
peered intently to left and right.
as if she hoped, by sheer power of
will to discern all that was taking
place within and without the thick
walls of the ancient mansion.
Donovan's Report.
Halfway down the stairs, as he
had anticipated, Sir John was met
by Donovan, the seamy-faced agent
whose assignment it was to guard
the Intelligence Chiefs home dur
ing blackout hours.
The captains in the front room,
colonel" he said, breathing heavily.
I'VE Just carried him in. I'm afraid
he's done for"
who shot him?"
THAT I don't know. sir. He was
a big fellow with limp. AS he was
getting out of Miss Brinda'S car,
which was parked about a hundred
PAGES up the square. the captain,
hurrying along, recognized the car
and then stopped to talk to the
fellow. The next minute there were
two shots. The murderer grabbed
this gentleman's car and vanished
in it," He pointed to tall, white
haired, distinguished looking man.
You had no chance to shoot?"
"The man was gone too fast, sir"
Return to your post" said Sir
John. III talk to you later"
He turned to the tall man.
Good evening, Lord Mountwyn.
I'm sorry to hear your cars been
stolen"
Lord Mountwyn amiably shook
hands.
This is an unexpected meeting
Sir John. didn't think I'd see you
before tomorrow night. You are
dining with us, hear"
Sir John, embarrassed that
high admiralty official should be
drawn into the momentous drama,
said: Il believe so-or at least I'll
be in during the evening. Don't
worry about your car. One of my
men, you know, has been injured.
Will Uo,I aycl1cn nnoo
The Look of Death.
He fastened into the room at the
foot of the stairs. There was a
trail of blood leading across the
threshold. Sir John carefully
avoided it. Kenley lay little inside
the door. A policeman was bending
over him.
One look at his aide was enough
for Sir John. The veteran intelh-
gence chief had seen hundreds of
mortally wounded men and knew
the look of death. Blood was yelling
slowly from dark hole beneath the
decoration on the young captains
chest. A thin stream had trickled
from the corner of his mouth. He
was breathing in slow, shuddering
gasps, and each breath seemed dis
cernibly slower and more labored
than the last.
Sanderson bent down. "Kenley!
This is Sanderson." His voice
was strong and authoritative. Can
you tell me what happened?"
The breath of the dying. man
sobbed harder, there was a faint
gurgle in his throat.
Help me turn him." Sir John said
to the constable. Hes strangling."
Together they shifted the PROSTATE
body. The blood flowed more freely
but the gurgle and shuddering means
ceased.
Ambulance called, of course?"
Sir Johns question was an aside to
the constable; all his attention was
riveted on the gasping figure be-
tween them.
Eyes, sir" The constable was
young and his voice was shaky. my
mate and we're on the corner when
we heard the shots"
"Your mate a good driver?"
"The best. But what with the
J fog and the blackout, it's Q hundred