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THE CLUE OF THE
SILVER KEY.
BY EDGAR WALLACE.
GHAPTEIl XVII.— (Continued.)
He looked at her in surprise.
"Do j'ou think yon can find the lock ?"
She nodded. Siucfoot Smith sighed.
"This is like doing tilings in. books,"
ho said, and I hate the way they <10
- things in books. It;s romantical, apd
voinautical tilings make me sick. But I'll
do this for you, young lady."
Two days later she received a brand-
new, shining key, and sot lortli on her
investigations, never suspecting tlmt, dnj
and night, she wns shadowed by one of
three detectives, whose instructions fioni
Surefoot Smith had been short and not
especially encouraging.
"Keep this lady 111 your sight. If you
let her out of your sight, your chance of
over being promoted is practically nil."
It was the third day after the murder
of Mike Hennessey thnt Cassai 1 Oils
moved. They had hovered between £1 3/
and £1 7/ for five veal's. They represent
ed £40 shares, for 111 pre-war days they
had been issued at 1010 f. The field
was situated in Asia Minor, and lmd
produced enough oil to prevent tlic fconi-
pnny from collapsing, but insufficient, to
bring the: shares back lo their 1101 mal
value. 1
Mnry rettd- .the flaming headline on. the
City page: "Sensational Rise of Cassan
Oils," and' called up Sir. Smith.
"Those were the shares tlmt you trans
ferred to Mornii, weren't -they ?" he asked,
interested." "What' did they stand at last
night 7 I haven't seen the paper." :
The stock had jumped from 25/ to 05/
overnight. "When Surefoot Smith put a
call through to the city he was staggeied
lo learn tliut tlicy stood at £30, und iveie
rising every minute. _ .
He drove up to nil office, in Old Broad-
street which supplied linn with particu
lars of financial phenomena, and discov
ered the reason from an unconcerned
stock jobber.
"They struck big oil about three months
ago, and they've been sinking new wells.
Apparently they found inexhaustible sup
plies, hut managed to keep it quiet until
they'd cleared the market of every float
ing share. The stock is certain to go to
a hundred, and I can advise you to have
a little flutter. There's no doubt about
tlic oil being there."
Surefoot Smith had never had a flutter
in his life, except that lie invariably had
half-a -crown on some horse in the Derby
which he picked with the nul of' a pin and
a list of probable runners.
"Who is behind tins move ?" he asked.
The jobber shook his head.
"If I tried to pronounce their names
I'd dislocate my jaw," lie said; "They
are mostly Turks— ISffcndi this and l'nslia
thnt. You'll find them m the Stock Ex
change Year Book. They're a pretty solid
crowd; millionaires, most of thorn. Oil,
110, mores nothing sunny noout tiiem;
they're ns solid as the Bank of England,
and this isn't a market rig. They haven't
a London office; Jolinan and Joyce ave
their agents."
To tlic office of Messrs- Jolman - and
Joyce Surefoot Smith went. He found
the place besieged. He vent 111 his card
and was admitted to the office - of Mr.
Joyce, the senior partner.
"I can't tell you very much, Mr. Smith,
except what the 'newspapers con tell .you.
There are not a large number of shares
on the market— I've just told u friend of
mine who thought of running a hear, that
he's certain to burn his fingers. The; only
big holder I know is a man named Morau
— Leo Moran."
CHAPTER XVIII.
Leo Moran ! It was no news to Sure
foot Smith thnt this man was interested
in the stock, apart from tho shares he had
, acquired from Mary. There wus a little
touch of trickincss about Moran; that wns
his reputation, both in the bank and
among his lrionds. From what Surefoot
; had gathered, and from' his own knowledge
of the man, lie wns capable of quixotic
and generous actions, but, generally speak
ing, carried shrewdness a little beyond
the line of fairness. Murderer lie might,
be; forger, as Surefoot believed, I10 cer-
tainlj- wns. Ho was a bachelor, had no
family attachments, and lew interests- be
sides his shooting aud the theatre.
This was a supreme gamble, then —
CasBari Oils. Before Surefoot Smith left
the stockbroker's ofhee fit discovered thnt
Moran was, nt any rate 011 paper, a mil
lionaire. On one point lie was puzzled;
though Moran had bought steadily, and
his operations had covered tlic years of.
-defalcations, he had spent 110 verv large
sum, certainly only n small percentage of
the money lie was making. The uinu
probably had other speculative interests,'
hut these for the moment were impossible
to trace-
Mr. Smith went homo to his rooms off
. the Hny market, and was surprised to find
a visitor waitmg'for lum on the landing.
"I haven't, been here two minutes,"
said Mary. I got 011 to your secretary
at Scotland .Yard, and he told me that
j'ou might be ut- your flat."-
He unlocked the door and ushered licr
into his untidy sittmgroom.
"Well, have j'ou found anything ?"
She shook her head and smiled rue
fully.
"Only my limitations, I nni afraid," she
said, and sat down 111 the chair he pulled
forward for her.
"You're giving it up, eh ?"
She hesitated.
"No." /
It required an effort of will to say "No,"
for she had awakened that morning with
an intense sense of mental discomfort
and a realisation of the difficulties which,
licsct her. She had been half inclined to
send a penitent note enclosing the key
to Surefoot, but confidence — not much,
but some— hnd come to licr with break
fast, and she had decided upon this,
what was to her, a bold move.
"I renlise what I have undertaken,"
she confessed. "Being a .detective is not
an easy job, is it ?. Especially when -you
don't know things." / . '
Surefoot smiled.
"The art of. being a detective .is to
know nothing," ho paid oracularly. "What
do you know ? If you know anything less
than I do; you haven't honrd ofthe- mur
der. On tho other hand, it. ts . possible
- you may know a great deal more.
; "You are being sarcastic."
He shook his head.
'. "I don't know tho word, Miss Lane.
What is it vou want to know ?"
She consulted a little notebook site took
from her pocket.
"Can you give me a list of all the big
cheques that were cashed and the dates '!
I particularly want to know the dates.
If my theory is correct, they are made
out on the seventeenth of tho month."
Surefoot sat back in his chair and stared
et licr.
"That is 11 bit scientific," lie said, a
little resentfully, and 6ho laughed. :
"No, it is hombly like a mystery story.
But, seriously, I do want to know."
lie pulled the telephone towards him
and called a number. .
"Funnily enough, that is a bit of in-
. formation 1 had uevcr thought of get
ting," he said.
She felt he wns a little nettled that he
lmd been remiss in this respect, and she
was secretly amused. .
"But. then, you see, Miss Lane," lie
went on, "if I had been at the Yard I
would probably get it. for you— hullo 1"
He had got through to tho bank. It
took soma time before the accountant,
with whom he eventually got 111 touch,
wns able to supply him witii the dates.
The cheques were made out 011 the
17th of April, the 17th of February, the
17th of December, the 17th of May m the
previous year— Surefoot jotted down u
dozen of them. Hanging up the re
ceiver, he pushed, the paper across to the
girl.
"I thought so 1" Her eyes were very
. bright. Every one of them on the
seventeenth !"
"Marvellous 1" said Surefoot. "Now,
will you tell mo what tlmt means ?"
Sho nodded.
"I will tell j'ou in a week s timev I am
going to do a lot of private investigation.
There is one thing I wanted to speak
about, Mr. Smith." Ilor voice wns
troubled. "I don't know whether I am
imagining things, but I have an idea tliut
: I nm being very carefully watched. I am
sure 11 innn wns following me yesterday.
I lost sight of lum 111 Oxford-street; I
was looking 111 11 shop window 111 Regent:
street and saw him again. . Rather an
unpleasant-looking man with a fair
moustache."
Surcloot Smith smiled.
"Thnt is Dotective-Seigcnnt Mason. 1
don't think he is much of a good-looker
myself."
"A detective ?" she gasped.
Surefoot nodded.
"Naturally, my dear young lads', I am
tnkiug great care of you. You might
as well know tlmt you ' arc being shad
owed, not because you are under sus
picion, but because for the moment you
are under our protection."
Sho heaved a sigh.
"You don't know -liow relieved I am.
It was rather getting 011 my nerves. As
it matter of fact, I don't tlmik I should
have come to sec you at all but for this."
"What about tlic seventeenth ?" asked
Surefoot. "Don't you think it would be
wise for you lo tell 'me what your sus
picions arc about ?"
She shook her head.
"I nin being mysterious and rather
weak," she said.
Her mystery certainly irritated Dick
Ailenby, who could never be sure of
finding ncr at home, lie find n talk with
Surefoot und songht his help.
(To bo Continued To-morrow.)
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