The Great Melbourne Cup Mystery

by Arthur W. Upfield

  From the man sitting on the spread sheets of newspaper, Tom Pink dressed in new but not exactly well-fitting clothes, the friends gave their attention to the man lounging in a chair by the window. His clothes were passable, but the crown of his head was bandaged, and one arm was in a sling.

  ‘You appear to have been in trouble, Mr. Stanhope,’ Roy ventured to this man, whose attention had been given to the narrow space between the drawn blind and the window frame. Offering no explanation, he nodded surlily, and continued to peer through the chink at the drive and the road gate at its end.

  ‘Not exactly trouble, Mr. Roy,’ Tom pointed out deprecatorily. ‘Me and ’im ’ad a light argument and I accidentally pulled a bit of ’is scalp off. Then ’e fell against a table, awkward like, and broke ’is arm.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Dick asked with a grin of amusement. ‘And how did you come out of the argument?’

  ‘Me? Oh—I got me face up against ’is fingernails some’ow, but it wasn’t ’is fault.’

  ‘No, of course not!’ Roy agreed, wanting badly to laugh. ‘Now, perhaps, you will tell us where you have been these last few days. Thanks, Joyce. Having a drink, Tom?’

  ‘Not just now, Mr. Roy. It affects me eyesight,’ declined Tom, his gaze fixed on his work of carving.

  ‘All right. Tell us what you have been doing.’

  ‘Oh—just been away visiting people I used to know,’ the jockey said indifferently.

  ‘During which time you met Mr. Stanhope and entered into an argument?’

  ‘That’s so.’

  ‘You’re mighty close,’ stated Dick. ‘When did you come back out of smoke?’

  ‘Cuppler days ago, Mr. Masters arst me to take a rest in ’is ’ouse, which is why you finds me ’ere.’

  ‘Did you get the information you desired?’

  ‘Wot information?’

  ‘You know. Who doped Olary Boy?'

  ‘Some of it.’

  ‘Come—come! Why don’t you bring it out?’

  ‘Bring out wot, Mr. Roy?’

  Roy sighed.

  ‘What shall we do with him, Dick?’

  ‘Shall we jump him round a bit?’ suggested Dick Cusack.

  ‘Better leave him alone, mister,’ advised Mr. Ivor Stanhope. ‘He’s a volcano, that’s wot he is.’

  Try as they would, Roy and Dick could get nothing out of Tom Pink, and were no more successful when they tackled the Scorpion.

  A few minutes after twelve o’clock, Old Masters rang up further to impress upon them the urgency of not leaving the house, even to walk in the garden. A friend of his would be calling to stay to lunch, and he himself would be there about one o’clock.

  At half-past twelve, Joyce announced a Mr. Wilson.

  Mr. Wilson was a large man, redfaced, sporting a grey moustache with fiercely pointed waxed ends. Roy recognised him as one of the shop detectives.

  ‘Why, if it ain’t the ole sergeant-major ’oo argued the point with me up orl them flights of stairs when I wanted to ’ave a word with Mr. Masters,’ Tom said, springing to his feet: ‘You are not wishing to continue the argument, are you?’

  ‘I am not,’ Wilson replied emphatically. To add with a sudden broad smile. ‘You are the toughest customer I ever had to handle.’

  ‘Attempted to ’andle, you mean.’

  ‘Perhaps you are right’

  ‘What are you here for, Wilson?’ Roy inquired.

  ‘My orders, sir, are to prevent either Mr. Cusack or yourself from leaving the house.’

  ‘You don’t mean to infer that you are intending to keep us prisoners, surely?’

  ‘Those are my orders, sir,’ Wilson admitted with obvious reluctance.

  ‘Whose orders?’

  ‘Old—pardon, sir—Mr. Masters’ orders.’

  ‘He must think we are a couple of kids, Dick,’ was Roy’s half angry supposition. And they settled down to wait.

  At nine minutes to one, Joyce announced Miss Leven, and into the room stepped a smartly dressed brunette, the same girl whom Dick had recognised as Tindale’s maid when Roy and he stepped out of the lift.

  ‘We are certainly getting a succession of surprises today,’ he said, beaming on Miss Leven.

  She smiled at them all, saying:

  ‘I have been ordered to take lunch with you.’

  At one o’clock precisely, Old Masters arrived.

  ‘Hum! Well, you’re all here. Joyce—lunch!’

  ‘I have laid it in the morning room, sir.’

  ‘Why? Why the devil not here?’ demanded the old man.

  ‘Well, sir—you see sir! Er—Mr. Pink, sir, has been engaged, sir.’

  ‘Hug-hum! What are you up to, Pink?’

  ‘I bin workin’ up a new shillelagh, Mr. Masters,’ explained Tom, lurching to his feet and showing the result of his labours.

  From the evil-looking club, Old Masters’ eyes rose to hold Tom’s glance. Very softly he asked:

  ‘Is it heavy.’

  ‘Too right, it’s heavy.’

  That made Old Masters’ face break into a rare smile.

  Old Masters entertained an unusual company at lunch, proving himself to be an ideal host. On edge with curiosity, Roy studied them all in turn; the silent Mr. Ivor Stanhope, who, although his names were suitable for the screen, gave no visual hint of ever being anything other than a villain; the not silent Tom Pink; the demure Miss Leven; and the most polite Mr. Wilson. When lunch was over, Old Masters made known his wishes.

  ‘During the afternoon,’ he said. ‘I want you people to stay in the dining-room after you have selected any books which may take your fancy and which you will find in the lounge. I am expecting several visitors whom I shall see in the library. Is that clear?’

  ‘It is—and it is not,’ Roy argued. ‘I would like to know—’

  ‘Roy—you will know nothing,’ Old Masters cut in. ‘If you or Dick, or Mr. Stanhope, or Miss Leven leaves this house you will almost certainly go out to your deaths.’

  ‘But—but—it’s all so extraordinary, Dad.’

  ‘It is—and devilish. I will say no more.’

  With a glare in his eyes, and his square jaw thrust forward, Old Masters courteously bowed to Miss Leven and withdrew.

  ‘What are you doing in this galley, Miss Leven? Didn’t I see you in Mr. Tindale’s house?’ asked Roy, curiously.

  ‘I can’t answer questions, Mr. Cusack,’ she replied.

  As requested by their host, these ill-assorted guests took books and magazines to the dining-room; whereupon the Scorpion at once occupied his former station at the window.

  ‘Can’t understand what Tindale’s maid is doing here,’ Dick whispered to his friend.

  ‘Tindale’s maid? Who?’

  ‘Miss Leven. She waited at table once when I dined with Diana and Tindale.’

  ‘Miss Leven! Tindale’s maid! Why she’s one of our smartest shop detectives!’

  A little after three o’clock, Mr. Ivor Stanhope uttered an oath.

  ‘Wot’s up with you?’ demanded Tom Pink, sunk in a comfortable chair and busy with the autobiography of a famous jockey.

  ‘The D—’s. There’s two of ’em comin’ up the drive. Where shall I get?’

  ‘Stay put,’ Tom calmly advised. ‘If you crawls under the table they laugh hard. But they won’t be comin’ in ’ere.’

  Nor, indeed, did Sub-Inspector Dawson or Detective Mason enter the dining room. They were soon closeted with Old Masters in the library, where they remained. Slowly the afternoon dragged away for Roy and Dick. Joyce came in and said Old Masters wished to speak with Tom Pink. And when Tom Pink came back, Miss Leven departed for the same purpose. On her return the Scorpion was called, and reluctantly and with obvious uneasiness, he, too, passed out.

  At dinner, in addition to those who sat down at lunch, there were present Detective Mason, Detective-Sergeant Wallis and Sub-Inspector Dawson.

  At ten o’clock Old Masters, the three policemen and Tom Pink left th
e house.

  At eleven Miss Leven retired to the room made ready for her.

  At nine minutes past twelve, Diana rang up.

  ‘Roy! Is that you, Roy? Yes-yes! Is Dick there, too? He is? Then please come as quickly as possible. Something has happened to guardie. He—he’s been murdered.’

  ‘Come on, Dick,’ Roy urged. ‘Knock out anyone who tries to stop us going to Diana.’

  30

  The Hooded Man

  Seated round a table in the back room of a secluded house not far from Coburg railway station were four men. He at the head of the table was effectively disguised by the white hood enveloping his head. On this man’s left sat Three of Four, a silver-haired man always smiling. Opposite him sat One of Four, whilst opposite Hellburg—the hooded man—lounged Mr. Josman, who had engineered the second kidnapping of Senor Alverey, and whose designation was Four of Four.

  These men, with another who guarded the front door, and two others who were with Alverey in the front room, had all arrived after midnight at this unlet furnished house.

  ‘Is Alverey here?’ asked Hellburg at length in peculiarly soft tones, a mere trace of a foreign accent in his voice.

  ‘Yes, Hellburg,’ replied Mr. Josman. ‘Have him in?’

  Hellburg nodded and fell to looking at a brown paper parcel. He motioned to One of Four to remove Josman’s tray. Josman re-entered and seated himself between One of Four and Hellburg leaving the bottom end of the table vacant for the two men who came in with Alverey to stand before them.

  ‘You were successful?’ Hellburg asked Four of Four.

  ‘Quite,’ was the reply.

  ‘Now, Senor, the moment has arrived for you to decide whether to return to your own country or remain in Australia—dead,’ the suave, gentle voice said. ‘Your information has proved correct, and, so far as I am concerned, there is no need for your captivity to be prolonged.’

  ‘I may take a chair?’ Alverey asked coldly.

  ‘Pardon! By all means.’

  ‘Good. Now speak on.’

  ‘My decision concerning you is not dictated by humanity, dear Senor Alverey. I am concerned only with the fact that to us you are more valuable alive than dead. Consequently I am prepared to permit you to board your yacht and steam away to South America when you have paid to us the sum of twenty thousand pounds. Can you raise twenty thousand pounds on Monday, Tuesday?’

  ‘Yes, you brigand,’ Alverey answered with courage. ‘I shall pay the money on Monday afternoon.’

  ‘Very well. Now listen carefully.’ The Argentinian was instructed how, when, and where he was to hand over the money.

  ‘What I wish to impress on you is this,’ Hellburg proceeded. ‘Any double crossing on your part will inevitably result in your death from a poison needle. Should eventually I discover that any effort has been made to mark, note the numbers, or otherwise seek to trace the money, I shall follow you to South America and there deliver the needle. Being a man of intelligence, and of imagination, you will easily understand—er—your mental condition when expecting, but never knowing the instant you will feel the sting of that poisoned needle. In fact, I believe you will agree with me that double crossing is rigidly to be avoided.’

  ‘How am I to know you will not follow to South America and with the threat of the needle there—what you say?—menace me?’

  ‘Yes, there is that, I admit,’ purred Hellburg. ‘We will not, however, discuss a supposition. You will arrange the more pressing matter of the twenty thousand on Monday afternoon?’

  Alverey nodded.

  ‘Good! I want you to accept my apologies for having put you to so much inconvenience. It was, after all, the result of extraordinary circumstances. You will admit that after having instructed us to prevent two horses from reaching Melbourne Cup form, after having upbraided us for not doing the work thoroughly, and eventually failing to carry out our pre-Cup plan through the default of a trusted member, we were, no less than the public astounded to see those identical horses drop dead.

  ‘Obviously it was necessary for us to discover our more successful rival, and most especially the method he adopted. We are always keen to consider new ideas.

  ‘Naturally, we thought you were that rival, and, therefore, had to question you. Your own obstinacy only stood in the way of your freedom. What you eventually told us about the John Ross Trust, allied with the killing of one of the trustees, put us on to the poisoners who evolved so splendid a weapon able to project such a unique poison.

  ‘Well, Senor Alverey, goodbye. It will not be, I sincerely hope, merely au revoir. In about half an hour you will be conveyed from this place and permitted to step from the car which brought you here—a free man. That will be all.’

  Maintaining silence, Alverey rose. He regarded each of the lieutenants steadily, smiled grimly at the hooded chief, and walked out with his gaolers. After all, what was there for him to say.

  Four of Four took his place at the bottom end of the table.

  ‘Now, Four of Four, what have you to show us?’ Hellburg asked.

  ‘In that package are six of the bulbs from which the poison was distilled.’

  Hellburg untied the string and folded back the paper from the several bulbs which appeared similar to old onions.

  ‘Well, one would not think that such small globes contained so powerful a poison,’ Hellburg murmured. ‘Did you find any formula?’

  ‘Several. Here they are. They cover the whole process from distilling the poison to fixing it in semi-soluble form.’

  The documents were handed to Hellburg, who did not examine them.

  ‘What else? The blow pipe?’ he asked.

  ‘No. This,’ and Four of Four held in his hand a peculiarly shaped pistol. ‘It is a powerful airgun,’ he explained. ‘You break it, so. Here you see is a disc of cork. The needle is gently fixed into the cork and then the needle is slipped into the breech, the cork entering last. The air is compressed by the closing of the breech, and when the gun is fixed the cork is caught at the end of the barrel, the needle continuing on, the eye-hole end, which contains the poison, travelling first and assisting the missile in keeping straight.’

  ‘Very interesting. Pass me the weapon, please.’ but Four of Four drew back with a grim smile.

  I have been thinking of keeping it,’ he said. ‘As a matter of fact, Hellburg, I can run this crowd better than you. There is that little matter concerning the last divi. I don’t forget anything. I’m going to give you a taste of the needle in this gun now—and after this I’ll run this show.’

  So saying, Four of Four rose to his feet, towering above the seated three, as he pointed the dreadful pistol at Hellburg’s face. The latter’s expression altered not one whit. ‘This—is rather sudden,’ he said, almost with a giggle.

  ‘It is, Hellburg. You know too much about us. You know I killed Leader, and you know Matthews killed the other man in mistake for Leader. You have got too much on us, and we’ve got absolutely nothing on you. We have never even seen your face. Now we don’t want you. We’ll be better off without you.’

  Followed a moment’s tense silence. Then the man who continually smiled drawled:

  ‘You can count me out of this Josman. I’ve got you covered. If you fire that thing at Hellburg, you’ll make a second dead man here. Cut it out.’

  For a second, two seconds, Four of Four hesitated; then he broke into uneasy laughter and sat down.

  ‘I was only joking,’ he explained, as he slid the air pistol across the table to Hellburg. ‘We’ll have to have others made in the same pattern. Why, with a pistol like that you could get away with anything. You could rule the city.’

  ‘You will never do any ruling, Four of Four. I don’t like your jokes,’ Hellburg said softly.

  He pressed the trigger of the gun, and there flashed between the others a needle, to stop, half buried, in Josman’s left eye.

  31

  The Aftermath

  Four of Four’s hand flashed to the woun
d. For the moment he was completely blind and frantically he searched for a handkerchief.

  Three of Four and One of Four looked at him with wolfish interest. In Hellburg’s right hand an automatic pistol was aimed at the doomed man.

  ‘You dirty swine, Hellburg! Oh, you dirty swine! Oh, why didn’t I fire the thing at you? But I’ll live long enough—’

  A groping hand sought frantically for his gun, whilst sobs of terror and of anguish escaped his lips. Yet even as his fingers closed over the pistol butt in his pocket he died.

  ‘Well, they will never hang Tindale’s murderer,’ said Hellburg steadily, his voice in no way altered from its accustomed softness and smoothness, as he glanced grimly at the rest.

  ‘Did he kill Tindale?’ asked One of Four.

  ‘So Two of Four told me when I came in. I told the fool to avoid killing. I will not have unnecessary killings, as I have often told you. It arouses the police to frenzy. And Four of Four needn’t have killed Tindale. If he hadn’t we might have got a second twenty thousand from him.’

  ‘What are you going—?’

  From the passage came a dull smack which preceded a duller thud.

  ‘One,’ exclaimed a man’s voice, in the passage.

  ‘See what’s the matter out there, Three of Four,’ Hellburg rapped out, sharply swinging round.

  The latter nodded obedience, and strode to the door, which was wide open. The remaining two watched him in tense silence, as he paused before the door frame, and then began cautiously to move around the left hand post, his ready automatic held before him. Then the seated men both saw the mallee root strike Three of Four full on the temple—and he pitched heavily to the carpet of the passage.

  ‘Two,’ came Pink’s voice, to be followed by a curt command, which sent Hellburg leaping to his feet.

  ‘Now then, Hellburg, and you other men! You had better surrender,’ came the voice of Sub-Inspector Dawson. ‘You are cut off. The house is completely surrounded.’

  With a quick, despairing glance round, One of Four crept across the room, gained position behind the door and slammed it. A mighty blow from Tom’s shillelagh smashed the lock and sent the door wide once more as Hellburg fired at the electric light, hit it and plunged the room into darkness. Then a beam of wood smashed against the window, smashed again and again till barely the frame was left. An invisible hand tore down the blind and curtains. From the outer darkness, brilliant motor headlamps flashed out, their beams directed through the wrecked window, illuminating the room.