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diff --git a/30477-h/30477-h.htm b/30477-h/30477-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c910c5c --- /dev/null +++ b/30477-h/30477-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,14270 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Sign Of Silence by William Le Queux. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + text-indent:0em; + padding:0em; + margin:0em; + font-style:normal; + font-weight:normal; +} /* page numbers */ + + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + +.bbox {border: solid 2px;} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.lfloat {float:left;width:auto;} +.ralign {text-align:right;} +.gap1 {margin-top:1em;} +.gap2 {margin-top:2em;} +.gap3 {margin-top:3em;} +.large {font-size:large;} +.small {font-size:small;} +.lpad0 {padding-left:0em;} +.rpad0 {padding-right:0em;} +.tpad1 {padding-top:1em;} + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30477 ***</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 415px;"> +<img src="images/image001.jpg" width="415" height="668" alt=""'Well,' she asked, 'are you ready?'" (Chap. vi.)" title="" /> +<div class="caption">"'Well,' she asked, 'are you ready?'" (Chap. vi.)</div> +<div class="lfloat gap1"><i>The Sign of Silence</i>]</div> +<div class="ralign gap1">[<i>Frontispiece</i></div> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + + +<h1 class="gap3">THE SIGN</h1> + +<h1>OF SILENCE</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>WILLIAM LE QUEUX</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>Author of</i></p> + +<p class="center"><i>"If Sinners Entice Thee," "The Room of Secrets," etc.</i></p> + + +<p class="center gap3">WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED</p> + +<p class="center">LONDON, MELBOURNE AND TORONTO</p> + +<p class="center">1917</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> + +<div class="bbox gap3" style="margin-left:20%;margin-right:20%;padding:1em;"> + +<p class="center large gap1">"THE MASTER OF MYSTERY"</p> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<p class="center gap1">WILLIAM LE QUEUX'S NOVELS</p> + +<div class="small"> +<p class="center gap1"><i>WORLD'S OPINIONS.</i></p> + +<p class="center gap1">EUROPE.</p> + +<p>"Mr. William Le Queux retains his position as 'The Master of +Mystery.' ... He is far too skilful to allow pause for thought; he +whirls his readers from incident to incident, holding their attention +from the first page to the close of the book."—<i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i></p> + +<p>"There is no better companion on a railway journey than Mr. William +Le Queux."—<i>Daily Mail.</i></p> + +<p>"Mr. William Le Queux is 'The Master of Mystery.' His reputation +is world-famed."—<i>Le Matin</i> (Paris).</p> + +<p>"Mr. William Le Queux's romances are always enthralling. He is +the Master of the Mystery-story."—<i>Berliner Tageblatt</i> (Berlin).</p> + +<p>"Mr. William Le Queux is the most entrancing and thrilling English +novelist of to-day."—<i>Neue Freie Presse</i> (Vienna).</p> + + +<p class="center gap1">ASIA.</p> + +<p>"We always enjoy Mr. Le Queux's novels. His mysteries are +perfect."—<i>Englishman</i> (Calcutta).</p> + +<p>"Mr. William Le Queux has justly earned the title of 'The Master +of Mystery.'"—<i>Hong Kong Telegraph.</i></p> + + +<p class="center gap1">AFRICA.</p> + +<p>"As a weaver of mysteries, Mr. William Le Queux has surely no +equal. To dash about Europe in his company, hot on the heels of an +enigma, is a pastime both exciting and exhilarating."—<i>Johannesburg +Star.</i></p> + + +<p class="center gap1">AMERICA.</p> + +<p>"Mr. William Le Queux's popularity is steadily increasing. No +writer has brought mystery and adventure to such a high degree of art. +He never fails to enthral and entertain us."—<i>New York Herald.</i></p> + +<p>"Mr. William Le Queux's work is always excellent, and always +exciting."—<i>San Francisco Examiner.</i></p> + +<p>"Not without good cause has Mr. Le Queux earned his very apt +title, 'The Master of Mystery.'"—<i>El Diario</i> (Buenos Ayres).</p> + + +<p class="center gap1">AUSTRALIA.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Le Queux is always fresh and original, and one can rely on +being interested and amused by his stories."—<i>Sydney Morning Herald.</i></p> + +<p>"For mystery and sensation Mr. Le Queux cannot be beaten."—<i>Melbourne +Argus.</i></p> + +<p>"Mr. Le Queux's large public are never satisfied. They always +crave for more from his pen."—<i>Christchurch Weekly Press</i> (New Zealand).<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> +</div> +</div> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<table summary="Contents" style="border-collapse:collapse"> +<tr> +<td colspan="2" class="small">CHAPTER</td> +<td class="ralign small">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">I.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">INTRODUCES A GENTLEMAN</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">II.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">THE SCENT</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">III.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">DESCRIBES THE TRYSTING-PLACE</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">IV.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">"DEAR OLD DIG"</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">V.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">"TIME WILL PROVE"</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">VI.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">THE PIECE OF CONVICTION</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_63">63</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">VII.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">FATAL FINGERS</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">VIII.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">CONTAINS FURTHER EVIDENCE</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">IX.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">DESCRIBES THE YELLOW SIGN</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">X.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">CHERCHEZ LA FEMME</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XI.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">IN WHICH AN ALLEGATION IS MADE</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XII.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">PHRIDA MAKES CONFESSION</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XIII.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">THE FUGITIVE'S SECRET</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>XIV.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">REVEALS A FURTHER DECEPTION</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_136">136</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XV.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">AN EFFACED IDENTITY</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XVI.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">REVEALS ANOTHER ENIGMA</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_153">153</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XVII.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">CONCERNS MRS. PETRE</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XVIII.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">DISCLOSES THE TRAP</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XIX.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">THE SEAL OF SILENCE</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XX.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">FROM THE TOMB</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XXI.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">RECORDS A STRANGE STATEMENT</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XXII.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">"MARIE BRACQ!"</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XXIII.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">LOVE'S CONFESSION</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XXIV.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">OFFICIAL SECRECY</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_222">222</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XXV.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">FRÉMY, OF THE SURETÉ</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XXVI.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">SHOWS EXPERT METHODS</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_239">239</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XXVII.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">EDWARDS BECOMES MORE PUZZLED</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_248">248</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XXVIII.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">FURTHER ADMISSIONS</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_256">256</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XXIX.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">THE SELLER OF SHAWLS</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_265">265</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XXX.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">FACE TO FACE</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XXXI.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">SHOWS THE TRUTH-TELLER</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_284">284</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign rpad0 tpad1">XXXII.—</td> +<td class="lpad0 tpad1">IS THE CONCLUSION</td> +<td class="ralign tpad1"><a href="#Page_294">294</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="THE_SIGN_OF_SILENCE" id="THE_SIGN_OF_SILENCE"></a>THE SIGN OF SILENCE.</h2> + + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>INTRODUCES A GENTLEMAN.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2">"<span class="smcap">Then</span> it's an entire mystery?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Phrida."</p> + +<p>"But it's astounding! It really seems so utterly +impossible," declared my well-beloved, amazed at +what I had just related.</p> + +<p>"I've simply stated hard facts."</p> + +<p>"But there's been nothing about this affair in +the papers."</p> + +<p>"For certain reasons the authorities are not +exactly anxious for any publicity. It is a very +puzzling problem, and they do not care to own +themselves baffled," I replied.</p> + +<p>"Really, it's the most extraordinary story of +London life that I've ever heard," Phrida Shand +declared, leaning forward in her chair, clasping her +small white hands as, with her elbows upon the +<i>table-à-deux</i>, she looked at me with her wondrous +dark eyes across the bowl of red tulips +between us.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> + +<p>We were lunching together at the Berkeley, in +Piccadilly, one January day last year, and had just +arrived at the dessert.</p> + +<p>"The whole thing is quite bewildering, Teddy—an +utter enigma," she exclaimed in a low, rather +strained voice, her pretty, pointed chin resting upon +the back of her hand as she gazed upon me from +beneath those long, curved lashes.</p> + +<p>"I quite agree," was my answer. "The police +are mystified, and so am I. Sir Digby Kemsley is +my friend, you know."</p> + +<p>"I remember," she said. "You once introduced +me—at the opening of the Motor Show at Olympia, +I believe. A very brilliant and famous man, +isn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Rather! A famous engineer. He made the +new railway across the Andes, and possesses huge +rubber interests in Peru. His name, both in Seina +and Valparaiso, is one to conjure with," was my +reply; "but——"</p> + +<p>"But what?" queried my well-beloved.</p> + +<p>"Well, there's one fact which greatly increases +the mystery—a fact which is yet to be told."</p> + +<p>"What's that?" she asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>I hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Well, I've been making inquiries this morning," +I replied with some reluctance, "and I learn to my +blank amazement that there is no such person as +my friend."</p> + +<p>"No such person!" she echoed, staring at me, +her lips parted. Being seated in a corner, no +one could overhear our conversation. "I don't +follow you!"</p> + +<p>"Well, Sir Digby died somewhere in South +America about a year ago," was my quiet response.</p> + +<p>"What? Was your friend a fraud, eh?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Apparently so. And yet, if he was, he must +have been a man of marvellous cunning and subterfuge," +I said. "He was most popular at the club, +known at the Ritz and the Savoy, and other places +about town."</p> + +<p>"He struck me as a man of great refinement—a +gentleman, in fact," Phrida said. "I recollect +him perfectly: tall, rather thin, with a pointed, grey +beard, a long, oval face, and thinnish, grey hair. A +very lithe, erect man, whose polite, elegant manner +was that of a diplomat, and in whose dark eyes was +an expression of constant merriment and good +humour. He spoke with a slight accent—Scotch, +isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. You remember him perfectly, dear. +A most excellent description," I said; "and that +same description has been circulated this morning +to every police office throughout the United Kingdom, +as well as to the prefectures of police in all +the European capitals. All the ports are being +watched, as it is expected he may make his +way abroad."</p> + +<p>"But what do the authorities suspect?" asked +Phrida, with a serious look.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's just it! They haven't yet decided +what to suspect."</p> + +<p>I looked across at her and thought, though +slightly more pale than usual, she had never appeared +more charming.</p> + +<p>Sweet-faced, slim, with a soft, sibilant voice, and +dainty to her finger-tips, she did not look more +than nineteen, though her age was twenty-four. +How shall I describe her save to say that her oval, +well-defined features were perfect, her dark, arched +brows gave piquancy to a countenance that was +remarked wherever she went, a merry face, with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +touch of impudence in her smile—the face of an +essentially London girl.</p> + +<p>Only daughter of my father's late partner, James +Shand, we had been friends from childhood, and our +friendship had, three years ago, blossomed into a +deep and mutual affection. Born and bred in +Kensington, she cared little for country life. She +loved her London, its throbbing streets, its life and +movement, its concerts, its bright restaurants, and, +most of all, its theatres—for she was an ardent +playgoer.</p> + +<p>My father, Edward Royle, was head of the firm of +well-known chemical manufacturers, Messrs. Royle +and Shand, whose works were a feature of the river +landscape close to Greenwich, and whose offices were +in St. Mary Axe. He had died two years before, +pre-deceasing his partner by a year. The business—a +big one, for we were the largest chemical manufacturers +in England—had been left solely in my +hands. Shand's widow still lived with Phrida in +Cromwell Road, drawing from it an income of seven +thousand pounds yearly.</p> + +<p>As for myself, I was a bachelor, aged thirty-two, +and if golf be a vice I was greatly addicted to it. I +occupied a cosy set of chambers, half-way up Albemarle +Street, and am thankful to say that in consequence +of my father's business acumen, my balance +at my bankers was increasing annually. At the +works at Greenwich nearly two thousand hands were +employed, and it had always been the firm's +proud boast that they laboured under the most +healthy conditions possible to secure in the manufacture +of chemicals.</p> + +<p>My father, upon his deathbed, had held my hand +and expressed to me his profoundest satisfaction at +my engagement with the daughter of his partner,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +and almost with his last breath had pronounced a +blessing upon our union.</p> + +<p>Yes, I loved Phrida—loved her with all my heart +and all my soul. She was mine—mine for ever.</p> + +<p>Yet, as I sat at that little table in the white-enamelled +restaurant gazing at her across the bowl +of tulips, I felt a strange, a very curious misgiving, +an extraordinary misty suspicion, for which I could +not in the least account.</p> + +<p>I experienced a strange intuition of doubt and +vague uncertainty.</p> + +<p>The facts we had just been discussing were, to +say the least, amazing.</p> + +<p>Only the Metropolitan Police and myself were +aware of the astounding discovery which had been +made that morning—a discovery of which the ever-vigilant +London evening newspapers had as yet +no inkling.</p> + +<p>The affair was being carefully hushed up. In +certain quarters—high official quarters, I believe—a +flutter of excitement had been caused at noon, +when it had become known that a mystery had +occurred, one which at the outset New Scotland +Yard had acknowledged itself utterly without a clue.</p> + +<p>About the affair there was nothing usual, nothing +commonplace. The murder mysteries of London +always form exciting reading, for it is surely the +easiest work of the practised journalist to put +forward from day to day fresh clues and +exciting propositions.</p> + +<p>The present case, however, was an entirely fresh +and unheard-of mystery, one such as London had +never before known.</p> + +<p>In the whole annals of Scotland Yard no case +presenting such unusual features had previously +been reported.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Have you no theory as to what really +occurred?" Phrida asked slowly, after a very long +and pensive silence.</p> + +<p>"None whatever, dear," I replied.</p> + +<p>What theory could I form? Aye, what indeed?</p> + +<p>In order that the exact truth should be made +entirely plain to the reader and the mystery viewed +in all its phases, it will be best for me to briefly +record the main facts prior to entering upon +any detail.</p> + +<p>The following were the circumstances exactly +as I knew them.</p> + +<p>At twenty-five minutes to ten on the previous +night—the night of January the sixth—I was at +home in Albemarle Street, writing letters. Haines, +my man, had gone out, and I was alone, when the +telephone bell rang. Taking up the receiver I +heard the cheery voice of Sir Digby Kemsley asking +what I was doing. My prompt reply was that I +was staying at home that night, whereupon his +voice changed and he asked me in great earnestness +to come over to his flat in Harrington Gardens, +South Kensington, at eleven o'clock.</p> + +<p>"And look here," he added in a confidential +tone, "the outside door will be closed at half-past +ten and the porter off duty. I'll go down just before +eleven and leave the door ajar. Don't let anyone +see you come in. Be extremely careful. I have +reasons I'll explain afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Right," I replied, and shut off.</p> + +<p>His request seemed just a little curious. It +struck me that he perhaps wished to consult with +me over some private matter, as he had done once +before. Therefore, just before eleven I hailed a +taxi in Piccadilly and drove westward past +Gloucester Road Station, and into the quiet,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +eminently select neighbourhood where my friend +lived.</p> + +<p>At eleven o'clock Harrington Gardens—that +long thoroughfare of big rather gloomy houses, +most of them residences of City merchants, or +town houses or flats of people who have seats in +the country—was as silent as the grave, and my +taxi awoke its echoes until, about half way up, +I stopped the man, alighted, and paid him off.</p> + +<p>Then, after walking a couple of hundred yards, +I found the door ajar and slipped into the hall +unobserved.</p> + +<p>Ascending the wide carpeted steps to the second +floor, the door of the flat was opened noiselessly +by the owner himself, and a few seconds later I +found myself seated before a big fire in his snug +sitting-room.</p> + +<p>My friend's face was grey and entirely changed, +yet his manner was still as polished, cheery, and +buoyant as ever.</p> + +<p>The flat—quite a small one, though very expensive +as he had once remarked to me—was furnished +throughout with elegance and taste. Upon +its walls everywhere hung curios and savage arms, +which he had brought from various parts of the +world. The drawing-room was furnished entirely +in Arab style, with cedar-wood screens, semi-circular +arches, low, soft divans and silken rugs, +which he had bought in Egypt, while, in contrast, the +little den in which we were sitting at that moment +was panelled in white with an old-rose carpet, +rendering it essentially bright and modern.</p> + +<p>The tall, grey-bearded, elegant man handed +me a box of Perfectos Finos, from which we selected, +and then, throwing myself into a chair, I slowly +lit up.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<p>His back was turned from me at the moment, +as he leaned over the writing-table apparently +gathering up some papers which he did not desire +that I should see. He was facing a circular mirror +on the wall, and in it I could see his countenance +reflected. The expression upon his face—cold, +cynical, sinister—startled me. He placed the papers +in a drawer and locked it with a key upon his +chain.</p> + +<p>"Well?" I asked. "Why all this confounded +mystery, Digby?"</p> + +<p>He turned upon me quickly, his long face +usually so full of merriment, grey and drawn. +I saw instantly that something very serious was +amiss.</p> + +<p>"I—I want to ask your advice, Royle," he +replied in a hard voice scarce above a whisper. +Walking to the pretty rug of old-rose and pale green +silk spread before the fire he stood upon it, facing +me. "And—well, truth to tell, I don't want it +to be known that you've been here to-night, old +fellow."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"For certain private reasons—very strong +reasons."</p> + +<p>"As you wish, my dear chap," was my response, +as I drew at his perfect cigar.</p> + +<p>Then he looked me straight in the face and said: +"My motive in asking you here to-night, Royle, is +to beg of you to extend your valued friendship +to me at a moment which is the greatest crisis of +my career. The fact is, I've played the game of life +falsely, and the truth must out, unless—unless you +will consent to save me."</p> + +<p>"I don't follow you," I said, staring at him. +"What in heaven's name do you mean?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My dear boy, I'll put my cards down on the +table at once," he said in a slow, deep tone. "Let's +see—we've known each other for nearly a year. +You have been my best friend, entirely devoted to +my interests—a staunch friend, better than whom +no man could ever desire. In return I've lied to you, +led you to believe that I am what I am not. Why? +Because—well, I suppose I'm no different to any +other man—or woman for the matter of that—I +have a skeleton in my cupboard—a grim skeleton, +my dear Royle. One which I've always striven to +hide—until to-night," he added with emotion.</p> + +<p>"But that hardly interferes with our friendship, +does it? We all of us have our private affairs, both +of business and of heart," I said.</p> + +<p>"The heart," he echoed bitterly. "Ah! yes—the +heart. You, my dear boy, are a man of the +world. You understand life. You are never narrow-minded—eh?" +he asked, advancing a step nearer +to me.</p> + +<p>"I hope not," I said. "At any rate, I've +always been your friend, ever since our first +meeting on the steamer on the Lake of Garda, last +February."</p> + +<p>The eminent engineer rolled his cigar between +his fingers, and calmly contemplated it in silence.</p> + +<p>Then, quite abruptly, he exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Royle, my present misfortune is due to a +woman."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" I sighed. "A woman! Always a woman +in such cases! Well?"</p> + +<p>"Mind you, I don't blame her in the least," he +went on quickly, "I—I was hot-tempered, and I +miscalculated her power. We quarrelled, and—and +she, though so young, refined and pretty, has +arisen to crush me."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Anyone I know?"</p> + +<p>"No. I think not," was his slow reply, his +dark eyes gazing full into mine as he still stood +astride upon the hearthrug.</p> + +<p>Then he fidgeted uneasily, stroked his well-clipped +grey beard with his strong, bronzed hand, +and strode across the room and back again.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Royle," he exclaimed at last. +"You're my friend, so I may as well speak straight +out. Will you help me?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly—if I can."</p> + +<p>"I'm in a hole—a confounded hole. I've been +worried ever since I got back from Egypt just +before Christmas. Only you can save me."</p> + +<p>"Me! Why?"</p> + +<p>"I want you to remain my friend; to still believe +in me, when—well—when I've gone under," +he answered brokenly, his brows contracting as +he spoke.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll speak more plainly. To-night is the +last time we shall meet. I've played the game, I +tell you—and I've lost!"</p> + +<p>"You seem horribly hipped about something +to-night, my dear fellow!" I exclaimed in wonder at +his strange words. In all my circle of friends no +man was more level-headed than Sir Digby +Kemsley.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm not quite myself. Perhaps you +wouldn't be, Royle, in the same circumstances." +Halting, he stood erect with his hands clasped +behind his back. Even then, at that moment +of despair, he presented the fine figure of a man in +his well-cut dinner clothes and the single ruby in +his piqué shirt-front. "I want to entrust a secret +to you—a great secret," he went on a few seconds<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +later. "I tell you that to-night is the last occasion +we shall ever meet, but I beg—may I implore you +to judge me with leniency, to form no unjust conclusions, +and when you remember me to regard my +memory as that of a man who was not a rogue, +but a victim of untoward circumstances."</p> + +<p>"Really, my dear fellow," I said, "you speak +in enigmas. What do you mean—you intend +what?"</p> + +<p>"That matters nothing to you, Royle," was his +hoarse reply. "I merely ask for your continued +friendship. I ask that you will treat my successor +here in the exact manner in which you have treated +me—that you will become his firm friend—and that +you will perform for me one great and most +important service."</p> + +<p>"Your successor! Who will succeed you? You +have no son!"</p> + +<p>"No, I have no male relation whatever," he +replied. "But we were speaking of the favour I am +begging of you to perform for me. On the fourteenth +of January I shall not be here, but it is +highly necessary that on that evening, at eight +o'clock, a secret message should be delivered into +the hands of a certain lady—a message from myself. +Will you do it?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Are you going abroad again?"</p> + +<p>"I—well, I can hardly tell. I may be dead by +then—who knows?" And he smiled grimly.</p> + +<p>He returned to his writing-table, unlocked a +drawer, and took therefrom a letter which was +carefully sealed with black wax.</p> + +<p>"Now, listen," he said, holding the letter in his +fingers; "on the night of the fourteenth, just at +eight o'clock precisely, go to the Piccadilly tube +station, stand at the telephone box numbered four<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +on the Haymarket side, when a lady in black will +approach you and ask news of me. In response +you will give her this note. But there is a further +condition: you may be watched and recognised, +therefore be extremely careful that you are not +followed on that day, and, above all, adopt some +effective disguise. Go there dressed as a working-man, +I would suggest."</p> + +<p>"That request, Kemsley, is certainly a very queer +one," I remarked. "Is she <i>the</i> lady?"</p> + +<p>He smiled, and I took that as an affirmative.</p> + +<p>"You say she'll be dressed in black. Lots of +ladies dress in black. I might mistake her."</p> + +<p>"Not very likely. I forgot to tell you that she +will wear a small spray of mimosa."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that shows originality," I remarked. +"Mimosa is not often worn on the person."</p> + +<p>"It will serve as a distinguishing mark." Then, +after a pause, he added, handing me the letter: +"There is one further request I want to make—or, +at least, I want you to give me your promise, Royle. +I ask you to make a solemn vow to me that if any +suspicion arises within your mind, that you will +believe nothing without absolute and decisive proof. +I mean that you will not misjudge her."</p> + +<p>"I certainly will not."</p> + +<p>"Your hand upon it?"</p> + +<p>I put forth my hand and, gripping his warmly, +gave him my word of honour.</p> + +<p>"I hope you will never regret this, Royle," he +said in an earnest tone.</p> + +<p>"We are friends," I remarked simply.</p> + +<p>"And I trust, Royle, you will never regret the +responsibility which you have accepted on my +behalf," he said in a deep, hard voice—the voice of +a desperate man. "Remember to treat my successor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +exactly as you have treated me. Be his best friend, +as he will be yours. You will be astonished, amazed, +mystified, no doubt, at the events which must, alas! +inevitably occur. But it is not my fault, Royle, +believe me," he declared with solemn emphasis. +"It is, alas! my misfortune!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>THE SCENT.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">After</span> giving me the letter, and receiving my +assurance that it would be safely delivered, Sir +Digby's spirits seemed somewhat to revive.</p> + +<p>He chatted in his old, good-humoured style, drank +a whisky and soda, and, just before one o'clock, +let me out, urging me to descend the stairs noiselessly +lest the hall-porter should know that he had had +a visitor.</p> + +<p>Time after time I had questioned him regarding +his strange reference to his successor, but to all +my queries he was entirely dumb. He had, I +recollected, never been the same since his return +from a flying visit to Egypt.</p> + +<p>"The future will, no doubt, astound you, +but I know, Royle, that you are a man of honour +and of your word, and that you will keep +your promise at all hazards," was all he would +reply.</p> + +<p>The secrecy with which I had entered and left +caused me considerable curiosity. Kemsley was +one of those free, bluff, open-hearted, open-handed, +men. He was never secretive, never elusive. I +could only account for his curious, mystifying actions<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +by the fact that the reputation of a woman was +at stake—that he was acting for her protection.</p> + +<p>And I was to meet that woman face to face in +eight days' time!</p> + +<p>As I walked towards Gloucester Road Station—where +I hoped to find a taxi—all was silence. At +that hour the streets of South Kensington are as +deserted as a graveyard, and as I bent towards the +cutting wind from the east, I wondered who +could be the mysterious woman who had broken +up my dear friend's future plans. Yet he bore +her no malice. Some men's temperaments are +really curious.</p> + +<p>Beneath a street-lamp I paused and looked at +the superscription upon the envelope. It ran:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"For E. P. K."</p></div> + +<p>The initial K! Was the lady Digby's wife? +That was the suspicion which at once fell upon me, +and by which I became convinced.</p> + +<p>At half-past one o'clock I let myself into my +own flat in Albemarle Street. The faithful +Haines, who had been a marine wardroom servant +in the navy before entering my employ, was +awaiting me.</p> + +<p>"The telephone bell rang ten minutes ago, sir," +he said. "Sir Digby Kemsley wishes to speak to +you."</p> + +<p>"Very well!" I replied. "You can go to +bed."</p> + +<p>The man placed my tray with whisky and soda +upon the little table near my chair, as was his habit, +and, wishing me good-night, retired.</p> + +<p>I went to the telephone, and asked for Digby's +number.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<p>After a few seconds a voice, which at first I failed +to recognise, replied to mine:</p> + +<p>"I say, Royle; I'm so sorry to disturb you, +old chap, but could you possibly come back +here at once?"</p> + +<p>"What?" I asked, very surprised. "Is it +so very important? Can't it wait till to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"No, unfortunately it can't. It's most imperative +that I should see you. Something has happened. +Do come!" he begged. "But don't attract +attention—you understand!"</p> + +<p>"Something happened!" I echoed. "What?"</p> + +<p>"That woman. Come at once—do, there's +a good fellow. Will you—for my sake and +hers?"</p> + +<p>The mention of the woman decided me, so +I replied "All right!" and hung up the +receiver.</p> + +<p>Within half an hour I alighted in Courtfield +Gardens and walked up Harrington Gardens to the +door of my friend's house, which I saw was already +ajar in anticipation of my arrival.</p> + +<p>Closing the door noiselessly, in order not to +attract the attention of the alert porter who +lived in the basement, I crept up the carpeted +stairs to the door of the flat, which I found also +ajar.</p> + +<p>Having closed the door, I slipped into the hall and +made my way to the warm, cosy room I had left +earlier that night.</p> + +<p>The door was closed, and without ceremony I +turned the handle.</p> + +<p>I threw it open laughingly in order to surprise +my friend, but next instant halted in amazement +upon the threshold.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> + +<p>I stood there breathless, staring in speechless +wonder, and drawing back.</p> + +<p>"I'm really very sorry!" I exclaimed. "I +thought Sir Digby was here!"</p> + +<p>The man who had risen from his chair and bowed +when I opened the door was about the same build, +but, apparently, a trifle younger. He had iron-grey +hair and a pointed beard, but his face was +more triangular, with higher cheek-bones, and eyes +more brilliant and deeper set.</p> + +<p>His thin countenance relaxed into a pleasant +smile as he replied in a calm, suave voice:</p> + +<p>"I am Sir Digby Kemsley, and you—I believe—are +Mr. Edward Royle—my friend—my very +intimate friend—are you not?"</p> + +<p>"You!" I gasped, staring at him.</p> + +<p>And then, for several seconds I failed to articulate +any further words. The imposture was so +utterly barefaced.</p> + +<p>"You are not Sir Digby Kemsley," I went on +angrily at last. "What trick is this?"</p> + +<p>"No trick whatever, my dear Royle," was the +man's quiet reply as he stood upon the hearthrug +in the same position in which my friend had stood +an hour before. "I tell you that my name is +Kemsley—Sir Digby Kemsley."</p> + +<p>"Then you assert that this flat is yours?"</p> + +<p>"Most certainly I do."</p> + +<p>"Bosh! How can you expect me to believe +such a transparent tale?" I cried impatiently. +"Where is my friend?"</p> + +<p>"I am your friend, my dear Royle!" he +laughed.</p> + +<p>"You're not."</p> + +<p>"But did you not, only an hour ago, promise +him to treat his successor in the same manner in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +which you had treated himself?" the man +asked very slowly, his high, deep-set eyes fixed +upon me with a crafty, almost snake-like expression, +an expression that was distinctly one +of evil.</p> + +<p>"True, I did," was my quick reply. "But +I never bargained for this attempted imposture."</p> + +<p>"I tell you it is no imposture!" declared the +man before me. "You will, perhaps, understand +later. Have a cigar," and he took up Digby's +box and handed it to me.</p> + +<p>I declined very abruptly, and without much +politeness, I fear.</p> + +<p>I was surveying the man who, with such astounding +impudence, was attempting to impose +upon me a false identity. There was something +curiously striking in his appearance, but what it +was I could not exactly determine. His speech +was soft and educated, in a slightly higher pitch +than my friend's; his hands white and carefully +manicured, yet, as he stood, I noted that his left +shoulder was slightly higher than the other, that +his dress clothes ill-fitted him in consequence; that +in his shirt-front were two rare, orange-coloured +gems such as I had never seen before, and, further, +that when I caught him side face, it much resembled +Digby's, so aquiline as to present an almost +birdlike appearance.</p> + +<p>"Look here!" I exclaimed in anger a few +moments later. "Why have you called me over +here? When you spoke to me your voice struck +me as peculiar, but I put it down to the distortion +of sound on the telephone."</p> + +<p>"I wanted to see if you recognised my other +self," he answered with a smile.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> + +<p>"At this late hour? Couldn't you have postponed +your ghastly joke till the morning?" I +asked.</p> + +<p>"Joke!" he echoed, his face suddenly pale +and serious. "This is no joke, Royle, but a very +serious matter. The most serious that can occur +in any man's life."</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it? Tell me the truth."</p> + +<p>"You shall know that later."</p> + +<p>"Where is Sir Digby?"</p> + +<p>"Here! I am Sir Digby, I tell you."</p> + +<p>"I mean my friend."</p> + +<p>"I am your friend," was the man's response, +as he turned away towards the writing-table. +"The friend you first met on the Lake of +Garda."</p> + +<p>"Now, why all this secrecy?" I asked. "I +was first called here and warned not to show myself, +and, on arrival, find you here."</p> + +<p>"And who else did you expect to find?" he +asked with a faint smile.</p> + +<p>"I expected to find my friend."</p> + +<p>"But I am your friend," he asserted. "You +promised me only an hour ago that you would +treat my successor exactly as you treated me. +And," he added, "I am my own successor!"</p> + +<p>I stood much puzzled.</p> + +<p>There were certain features in his countenance +that were much like Digby's, and certain +tones in his voice that were the same. His hands +seemed the same, too, and yet he was not Digby +himself.</p> + +<p>"How can I believe you if you refuse to be frank +and open with me?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"You promised me, Royle, and a good deal +depends upon your promise," he replied, looking<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +me squarely in the face. "Perhaps even your +own future."</p> + +<p>"My future!" I echoed. "What has that to +do with you, pray?" I demanded angrily.</p> + +<p>"More than you imagine," was his low response, +his eyes fixed upon mine.</p> + +<p>"Well, all I know is that you are endeavouring +to make me believe that you are what you are not. +Some evil purpose is, no doubt, behind it all. But +such an endeavour is an insult to my intelligence," +I declared.</p> + +<p>The man laughed a low, harsh laugh and turned +away.</p> + +<p>"I demand to know where my friend is!" I cried, +stepping after him across the room, and facing +him again.</p> + +<p>"My dear Royle," he replied, in that curious, +high-pitched voice, yet with a calm, irritating +demeanour. "Haven't I already told you I am +your friend?"</p> + +<p>"It's a lie! You are not Sir Digby!" I cried +angrily. "I shall inform the police that I've +found you usurping his place and name, and leave +them to solve the mystery."</p> + +<p>"Act just as you think fit, my dear old fellow," +he laughed. "Perhaps the police might discover +more than you yourself would care for them to +know."</p> + +<p>His words caused me to ponder. At what could +he be hinting?</p> + +<p>He saw my hesitancy, and with a sudden movement +placed his face close to me, saying:</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow look—look into my countenance, +you surely can penetrate my disguise. It cannot +be so very perfect, surely."</p> + +<p>I looked, but turned from him in disgust.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No. Stop this infernal fooling!" I cried. +"I've never seen you before in my life."</p> + +<p>He burst out laughing—laughed heartily, and +with genuine amusement.</p> + +<p>His attitude held me in surprise.</p> + +<p>"You refuse to be my friend, Royle—but +I desire to be yours, if you will allow me," he +said.</p> + +<p>"I can have no friend whom I cannot trust," +I repeated.</p> + +<p>"Naturally. But I hope you will soon learn +to trust me," was his quiet retort. "I called you +back to-night in order to see if you—my most +intimate friend—would recognise me. But you do +not. I am, therefore, safe—safe to go forth and +perform a certain mission which it is imperative +that I should perform."</p> + +<p>"You are fooling me," I declared.</p> + +<p>For a second he looked straight and unflinchingly +into my eyes, then with a sudden movement +he drew the left cuff of his dress shirt up to +the elbow and held out his forearm for me to +gaze upon.</p> + +<p>I looked.</p> + +<p>Then I stood dumbfounded, for half-way up +the forearm, on the inside, was the cicatrice of +an old knife wound which long ago, he had told +me, had been made by an Indian in South America +who had attempted to kill him, and whom he had +shot in self-defence.</p> + +<p>"You believe me now?" he asked, in a voice +scarce above a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Of course," I said. "Pardon me, Digby—but +this change in your personality is marvellous—almost +superhuman!"</p> + +<p>"So I've been told before," he replied lightly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But, really, didn't you penetrate it?" he asked, +resuming his normal voice.</p> + +<p>"No. I certainly did not," I answered, and +helping myself to a drink, swallowed it.</p> + +<p>"Well?" I went on. "What does this +mean?"</p> + +<p>"At present I can't exactly tell you what I +intend doing," he replied. "To-night I wanted to +test you, and have done so. It's late now," he +added, glancing at the clock, which showed it to be +half-past two o'clock in the morning. "Come in +to-morrow at ten, will you?" he asked. "I want +to discuss the future with you very seriously. I +have something to say which concerns your own +future, and which also closely concerns a friend +of yours. So come in your own interests, Royle—now +don't fail, I beg of you!"</p> + +<p>"But can't you tell me to-night," I asked.</p> + +<p>"Not until I know something of what my own +movements are to be," he replied. "I cannot +know before to-morrow," he replied with a mysterious +air. "So if you wish to be forewarned of an +impending peril, come and see me and I will then +explain. We shall, no doubt, be on closer terms +to-morrow. <i>Au revoir</i>," and he took my hand +warmly and then let me out.</p> + +<p>The rather narrow, ill-lit staircase, the outer +door of which had been shut for hours, was close and +stuffy, but as I descended the second flight and +was about to pass along the hall to the door, I distinctly +heard a movement in the shadow where, +on my left, the hall continued along to the door +of the ground-floor flat.</p> + +<p>I peered over the banisters, but in the darkness +could distinguish nothing.</p> + +<p>That somebody was lurking there I instantly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +felt assured, and next moment the truth became +revealed by two facts.</p> + +<p>The first was a light, almost imperceptible noise, +the jingle of a woman's bangles, and, secondly, +the faint odour of some subtle perfume, a sweet, +intoxicating scent such as my nostrils had never +greeted before.</p> + +<p>For the moment I felt surprise, but as the hidden +lady was apparently standing outside the ground-floor +flat—perhaps awaiting admittance—I felt it +to be no concern of mine, and proceeding, opened +the outer door and passed outside, closing it quietly +after me.</p> + +<p>An unusually sweet perfume one can seldom +forget. Even out in the keen night air that delightful +odour seemed to cling to my memory—the +latest creation of the Rue de la Paix, I +supposed.</p> + +<p>Well, I duly returned home to Albemarle Street +once again, utterly mystified.</p> + +<p>What did it all mean? Why had Digby +adopted such a marvellous disguise? What +did he mean by saying that he wished to +stand my friend and safeguard me from impending +evil?</p> + +<p>Yes, it was all a mystery—but surely not so +great a mystery as that which was to follow. Ah! +had I but suspected the astounding truth how very +differently would I have acted!</p> + +<p>Filled with curiosity regarding Digby's strange +forebodings, I alighted from a taxi in Harrington +Gardens at a quarter to eleven that same morning, +but on entering found the uniformed hall-porter +in a great state of excitement and alarm.</p> + +<p>"Oh, sir!" he cried breathlessly, advancing +towards me. "You're a friend of Sir Digby's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +sir. The police are upstairs. Something extraordinary +has happened."</p> + +<p>"The police!" I gasped. "Why, what's happened?"</p> + +<p>"Well, sir. As his man left the day before yesterday, +my wife went up to Sir Digby's flat as usual +this morning about eight, and put him his early +cup of tea outside his door. But when she went +in again she found he had not taken it into his room. +She believed him to be asleep, so not till ten o'clock +did she go into the sitting-room to draw up the +blinds, when, to her horror, she found a young +lady, a perfect stranger, lying stretched on the +floor there! She rushed down and told me, and +I went up. I found that Sir Digby's bed hadn't +been slept in, and that though the poor girl was +unconscious, she was still breathing. So I at once +called in the constable on point duty at the corner +of Collingham Road, and he 'phoned to the police +station."</p> + +<p>"But the girl—is she dead?" I inquired +quickly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir. You'd better go upstairs. +There's an inspector, two plain-clothes men, and a +doctor up there."</p> + +<p>He took me up in the lift, and a few moments +later I stood beside Digby's bed, whereon the men +had laid the inanimate form of a well-dressed girl +whom I judged to be about twenty-two, whose dark +hair, unbound, lay in disorder upon the pillow. +The face, white as marble, was handsome and +clean cut, but upon it, alas! was the ashen hue +of death, the pale lips slightly parted as though in +a half-sarcastic smile.</p> + +<p>The doctor was bending over her making his +examination.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + +<p>I looked upon her for a moment, but it was a +countenance which I had never seen before. Digby +had many lady friends, but I had never seen her +among them. She was a perfect stranger.</p> + +<p>Her gown was of dark blue serge, smartly made, +and beneath her coat she wore a cream silk blouse +with deep sailor collar open at the neck, and a soft +flowing bow of turquoise blue. This, however, had +been disarranged by the doctor in opening her +blouse to listen to her breathing, and I saw that +upon it was a small crimson stain.</p> + +<p>Yes, she was remarkably good-looking, without +a doubt.</p> + +<p>When I announced myself as an intimate friend +of Sir Digby Kemsley, the inspector at once took +me into the adjoining room and began to eagerly +question me.</p> + +<p>With him I was perfectly frank; but I said +nothing regarding my second visit there in the +night.</p> + +<p>My gravest concern was the whereabouts of my +friend.</p> + +<p>"This is a very curious case, Mr. Royle," +declared the inspector. "The C.I.D. men have +established one fact—that another woman was with +the stranger here in the early hours of this morning. +This hair-comb"—and he showed me a small +side-comb of dark green horn—"was found close +beside her on the floor. Also a couple of hair-pins, +which are different to those in the dead woman's +hair. There was a struggle, no doubt, and the +woman got away. In the poor girl's hair are two +tortoiseshell side-combs."</p> + +<p>"But what is her injury?" I asked breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"She's been stabbed," he replied. "Let's go +back."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<p>Together we re-entered the room, but as we did +so we saw that the doctor had now left the +bedside, and was speaking earnestly with the two +detectives.</p> + +<p>"Well, doctor?" asked the inspector in a low +voice.</p> + +<p>"She's quite dead—murder, without a doubt," +was his reply. "The girl was struck beneath +the left breast—a small punctured wound, but +fatal!"</p> + +<p>"The woman who left this hair-comb behind +knows something about the affair evidently," +exclaimed the inspector. "We must first discover +Sir Digby Kemsley. He seems to have been +here up until eleven o'clock last night. Then he +mysteriously disappeared, and the stranger +entered unseen, two very curious and suspicious +circumstances. I wonder who the poor girl +was?"</p> + +<p>The two detectives were discussing the affair in +low voices. Here was a complete and very remarkable +mystery, which, from the first, the police +told me they intended to keep to themselves, and +not allow a syllable of it to leak out to the public +through the newspapers.</p> + +<p>A woman had been there!</p> + +<p>Did there not exist vividly in my recollection +that strange encounter in the darkness of the stairs? +The jingle of the golden bangles, and the sweet odour +of that delicious perfume?</p> + +<p>But I said nothing. I intended that the police +should prosecute their inquiries, find my friend, and +establish the identity of the mysterious girl who had +met with such an untimely end presumably at the +hands of that woman who had been lurking in the +darkness awaiting my departure.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> + +<p>Truly it was a mystery, a most remarkable problem +among the many which occur each week amid the +amazing labyrinth of humanity which we term +London life.</p> + +<p>Sir Digby Kemsley had disappeared. Where?</p> + +<p>Half an hour after noon I had left Harrington +Gardens utterly bewildered, and returned to +Albemarle Street, and at half-past one met Phrida +at the Berkeley, where, as I have already +described, we lunched together.</p> + +<p>I had revealed to her everything under seal +of the secrecy placed upon me by the police—everything +save that suspicion I had had in the +darkness, and the suspicion the police also held—the +suspicion of a woman.</p> + +<p>Relation of the curious affair seemed to have +unnerved her. She had become paler and was +fidgeting with her serviette. Loving me so devotedly, +she seemed to entertain vague and ridiculous +fears regarding my own personal safety.</p> + +<p>"It was very foolish and hazardous of you to +have returned there at that hour, dear," she declared +with sweet solicitation, as she drew on her white +gloves preparatory to leaving the restaurant, +for I had already paid the bill and drained my +liqueur-glass.</p> + +<p>"I don't see why," I said. "Whatever could +have happened to me, when——"</p> + +<p>My sentence remained unfinished.</p> + +<p>I held my breath. The colour must have left my +cheeks, I know.</p> + +<p>My well-beloved had at that moment opened +her handbag and taken out her wisp of lace +handkerchief.</p> + +<p>My nostrils were instantly filled with that same +sweet, subtle perfume which I so vividly recollected,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +the identical perfume of the woman concealed in +that dark passage-way!</p> + +<p>Her bangles, two thin gold ones, jingled as she +moved—that same sound which had come up to +me from the blackness. I sat like a statue, staring +at her amazed, aghast, like a man in a dream.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>DESCRIBES THE TRYSTING-PLACE.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">I drove</span> Phrida back to Cromwell Road in a taxi.</p> + +<p>As I sat beside her, that sweet irritating perfume +filled my senses, almost intoxicating me. For +some time I remained silent; then, unable to +longer restrain my curiosity, I exclaimed with a +calm, irresponsible air, though with great difficulty +of self-restraint:</p> + +<p>"What awfully nice perfume you have, dearest! +Surely it's new, isn't it? I never remember smelling +it before!"</p> + +<p>"Quite new, and rather delicious, don't you +think? My cousin Arthur brought it from Paris +a few days ago. I only opened the bottle last night. +Mother declared it to be the sweetest she's ever +smelt. It's so very strong that one single drop is +sufficient."</p> + +<p>"What do they call it?"</p> + +<p>"Parfait d'Amour. Lauzan, in the Placé Vendôme, +makes it. It's quite new, and not yet on the market, +Arthur said. He got it—a sample bottle—from a +friend of his in the perfume trade."</p> + +<p>Not on the market! Those words of hers con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>demned +her. Little did she dream that I had +smelt that same sweet, subtle odour as I descended +the stairs from Sir Digby's flat. She, no doubt, had +recognised my silhouette in the half darkness, yet +nevertheless she felt herself quite safe, knowing +that I had not seen her.</p> + +<p>Why had she been lurking there?</p> + +<p>A black cloud of suspicion fell upon me. She +kept up a desultory conversation as we went along +Piccadilly in the dreary gloom of that dull January +afternoon, but I only replied in monosyllables, until +at length she remarked:</p> + +<p>"Really, Teddy, you're not thinking of a word +I'm saying. I suppose your mind is centred upon +your friend—the man who has turned out to be an +impostor."</p> + +<p>The conclusion of that sentence and its tone +showed a distinct antagonism.</p> + +<p>It was true that the man whom I had known +as Sir Digby Kemsley—the man who for years past +had been so popular among a really good set in +London—was according to the police an impostor.</p> + +<p>The detective-inspector had told me so. From the +flat in Harrington Gardens the men of the Criminal +Investigation Department had rung up New Scotland +Yard to make their report, and about noon, while I +was resting at home in Albemarle Street, I was told +over the telephone that my whilom friend was not +the man I had believed him to be.</p> + +<p>As I had listened to the inspector's voice, I heard +him say:</p> + +<p>"There's another complication of this affair, +Mr. Royle. Your friend could not have been Sir +Digby Kemsley, for that gentleman died suddenly +a year ago, at Huacho, in Peru. There was some +mystery about his death, it seems, for it was reported<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +by the British Consul at Lima. Inspector Edwards, +of the C.I. Department, will call upon you this +afternoon. What time could you conveniently +be at home?"</p> + +<p>I named five o'clock, and that appointment +I intended, at all hazards, to keep.</p> + +<p>The big, heavily-furnished drawing-room in +Cromwell Road was dark and sombre as I stood with +Phrida, who, bright and happy, pulled off her +gloves and declared to her mother—that charming, +sedate, grey-haired, but wonderfully preserved, +woman—that she had had such "a jolly lunch."</p> + +<p>"I saw the Redmaynes there, mother," she was +saying. "Mr. Redmayne has asked us to lunch +with them at the Carlton next Tuesday. Can +we go?"</p> + +<p>"I think so, dear," was her mother's reply. +"I'll look at my engagements."</p> + +<p>"Oh, do let's go! Ida is coming home from +her trip to the West Indies. I do want to see +her so much."</p> + +<p>Strange it was that my well-beloved, in face of that +amazing mystery, preserved such an extraordinary, +nay, an astounding, calm. I was thinking of the +little side-comb of green horn, for I had seen her +wearing a pair exactly similar!</p> + +<p>Standing by I watched her pale sweet countenance, +full of speechless wonder.</p> + +<p>After the first moment of suspense she had found +herself treading firm ground, and now, feeling herself +perfectly secure, she had assumed a perfectly frank +and confident attitude.</p> + +<p>Yet the perfume still arose to my nostrils—the +sweet, subtle scent which had condemned her.</p> + +<p>I briefly related to Mrs. Shand my amazing adventures +of the previous night, my eyes furtively<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +upon Phrida's countenance the while. Strangely +enough, she betrayed no guilty knowledge, but fell +to discussing the mystery with ease and common-sense +calm.</p> + +<p>"What I can't really make out is how your +friend could have had the audacity to pose as Sir +Digby Kemsley, well knowing that the real person +was alive," she remarked.</p> + +<p>"The police have discovered that Sir Digby died +in Peru last January," I said.</p> + +<p>"While your friend was in London?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. My friend—I shall still call him +Sir Digby, for I have known him by no other name—has +not been abroad since last July, when he went +on business to Moscow."</p> + +<p>"How very extraordinary," remarked Mrs. Shand. +"Your friend must surely have had some object in +posing as the dead man."</p> + +<p>"But he posed as a man who was still alive!" +I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Until, perhaps, he was found out," observed +Phrida shrewdly. "Then he bolted."</p> + +<p>I glanced at her quickly. Did those words betray +any knowledge of the truth, I wondered.</p> + +<p>"Apparently there was some mystery surrounding +the death of Sir Digby at Huacho," I remarked. +"The British Consul in Lima made a report upon it +to the Foreign Office, who, in turn, handed it to +Scotland Yard. I wonder what it was."</p> + +<p>"When you know, we shall be better able to +judge the matter and to form some theory," Phrida +said, crossing the room and re-arranging the big +bowl of daffodils in the window.</p> + +<p>I remained about an hour, and then, amazed +at the calmness of my well-beloved, I returned +to my rooms.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + +<p>In impatience I waited till a quarter past five, +when Haines ushered in a tall, well-dressed, clean-shaven +man, wearing a dark grey overcoat and white +slip beneath his waistcoat, and who introduced +himself as Inspector Charles Edwards.</p> + +<p>"I've called, Mr. Royle, in order to make some +further inquiries regarding this person you have +known as Sir Digby Kemsley," he said when he had +seated himself. "A very curious affair happened +last night. I've been down to Harrington Gardens, +and have had a look around there myself. Many +features of the affair are unique."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I agreed. "It is curious—very curious."</p> + +<p>"I have a copy of your statement regarding your +visit to the house during the night," said the +official, who was one of the Council of Seven at the +Yard, looking up at me suddenly from the cigarette +he was about to light. "Have you any suspicion +who killed the young lady?"</p> + +<p>"How can I have—except that my friend——"</p> + +<p>"Is missing—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly."</p> + +<p>"But now, tell me all about this friend whom you +knew as Sir Digby Kemsley. How did you first +become acquainted with him?"</p> + +<p>"I met him on a steamer on the Lake of Garda +this last summer," was my reply. "I was staying +at Riva, the little town at the north end of the +lake, over the Austrian frontier, and one day took +the steamer down to Gardone, in Italy. We sat +next each other at lunch on board, and, owing to a +chance conversation, became friends."</p> + +<p>"What did he tell you?"</p> + +<p>"Well, only that he was travelling for his health. +He mentioned that he had been a great deal in +South America, and was then over in Europe for a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +holiday. Indeed, on the first day we met, he did +not even mention his name, and I quite forgot to +ask for it. In travelling one meets so many people +who are only of brief passing interest. It was not +until a week later, when I found him staying in the +same hotel as myself, the Cavour, in Milan, I learnt +from the hall-porter that he was Sir Digby Kemsley, +the great engineer. We travelled to Florence +together, and stayed at the Baglioni, but one +morning when I came down I found a hurried note +awaiting me. From the hall-porter I learned that +a gentleman had arrived in the middle of the night, +and Sir Digby, after an excited controversy, left +with him for London. In the note he gave me his +address in Harrington Gardens, and asked me not +to fail to call on my return to town."</p> + +<p>"Curious to have a visitor in the middle of the +night," remarked the detective reflectively.</p> + +<p>"I thought so at the time, but, knowing him to +be a man of wide business interests, concluded that +it was someone who had brought him an urgent +message," I replied. "Well, the rest is quickly +told. On my return home I sought him out, with +the result that we became great friends."</p> + +<p>"You had no suspicion that he was an impostor?"</p> + +<p>"None whatever. He seemed well known in +London," I replied. "Besides, if he was not the +real Sir Digby, how is it possible that he could have +so completely deceived his friends! Why, he has +visited the offices of Colliers, the great railway +contractors in Westminster—the firm who constructed +the railway in Peru. I recollect calling +there with him in a taxi one day."</p> + +<p>Edwards smiled.</p> + +<p>"He probably did that to impress you, sir," he +replied. "They may have known him as somebody<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +else. Or he simply went in and made an inquiry. +He's evidently a very clever person."</p> + +<p>Personally, I could not see how my friend could +possibly have posed as Sir Digby Kemsley if he +were not, even though Edwards pointed out that +the real Sir Digby had only been in London a +fortnight for the past nine years.</p> + +<p>Still, on viewing the whole situation, I confess +inclination towards the belief that my friend was, +notwithstanding the allegations, the real Sir Digby.</p> + +<p>And yet those strange words of his, spoken in such +confidence on the previous night, recurred to me. +There was mystery somewhere—a far more obscure +mystery even than what was apparent at that +moment.</p> + +<p>"Tell me what is known concerning Sir Digby's +death in Peru," I asked.</p> + +<p>"From the report furnished to us at the Yard it +seems that one day last August, while the gentleman +in question was riding upon a trolley on the Cerro +de Pasco railway, the conveyance was accidentally +overturned into a river, and he was badly injured +in the spine. A friend of his, a somewhat mysterious +Englishman named Cane, brought him down to +the hospital at Lima, and after two months there, +he becoming convalescent, was conveyed for fresh +air to Huacho, on the sea. Here he lived with Cane +in a small bungalow in a somewhat retired spot, +until on one night in February last year something +occurred—but exactly what, nobody is able to tell. +Sir Digby was found by his Peruvian servant dead +from snake-bite. Cane evinced the greatest distress +and horror until, of a sudden, a second man-servant +declared that he had heard his master cry out in +terror as he lay helpless in his bed. He heard him +shriek: 'You—you blackguard, Cane—take the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +thing away! Ah! God! You've—you've killed +me!' Cane denied it, and proved that he was at +a friend's house playing cards at the hour when +the servant heard his master shout for help. Next +day, however, he disappeared. Our Consul in Lima +took up the matter, and in due course a full report +of the affair was forwarded to the Yard, together +with a very detailed description of the man wanted. +This we sent around the world, but up to to-day +without result."</p> + +<p>"Then the man Cane was apparently responsible +for the death of the invalid," I remarked.</p> + +<p>"I think so—without a doubt."</p> + +<p>"But who was the invalid? Was he the real +Sir Digby?"</p> + +<p>"Aye, that's the question," said Edwards, +thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets. For +some moments we both sat staring blankly into +the fire.</p> + +<p>"Among the papers sent to us," he said very +slowly at last, "was this. Read it, and tell me +your opinion."</p> + +<p>And then he took from his pocket-book and handed +me a half-sheet of thin foreign notepaper, which had +been closely written upon on both sides. It was +apparently a sheet from a letter, for there was no +beginning and no ending.</p> + +<p>The handwriting was educated, though small and +crabbed, and the ink brown and half-faded, perhaps +because of its exposure to a tropical climate. It +had been written by a man, without a doubt.</p> + +<p>"That," said Edwards, "was found in a pocket-book +belonging to Cane, which, in his hasty flight, +he apparently forgot. According to our report the +wallet was found concealed beneath the mattress of +his bed, as though he feared lest anyone should<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +read and learn what it contained. Read it, and +tell me what you think."</p> + +<p>I took the sheet of thin paper in my fingers, and, +crossing the room to a brighter light, managed to +decipher the writing as follows:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"... At fourteen paces from where this wall +rises from the lawn stands the ever-plashing fountain. +The basin is circular, while around runs a paved path, +hemmed in by smoke-blackened laurels and cut off +from the public way by iron railings. The water +falls with pleasant cadence into a small basin set +upon a base of moss-grown rockwork. Looking +south one meets a vista of green grass, of never-ceasing +London traffic, and one tall distant factory +chimney away in the grey haze, while around the +fountain are four stunted trees. On the right +stretches a strip of garden, in spring green and gay +with bulbs which bloom and die unnoticed by the +hundreds upon hundreds of London's workers who +pass and re-pass daily in their mad, reckless hurry +to earn the wherewithal to live.</p> + +<p>"Halt upon the gravel at that spot on the twenty-third +of the month punctually at noon, and she will +pass wearing the yellow flower. It is the only +trysting-place. She has kept it religiously for one +whole year without—alas!—effecting a meeting. +Go there—tell her that I still live, shake her hand +in greeting and assure her that I will come there as +soon as ever I am given strength so to do.</p> + +<p>"I have been at that spot once only, yet every +detail of its appearance is impressed indelibly upon +my memory. Alas! that I do not know its +name. Search and you will assuredly find it—and +you will see her. You will speak, and give +her courage."</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<p>I bit my lip.</p> + +<p>A sudden thought illuminated my mind.</p> + +<p>The yellow flower!</p> + +<p>Was not the mysterious woman whom I was to +meet on the night of the fourteenth also to wear +a yellow flower—the mimosa!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>"DEAR OLD DIG."</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">I told</span> Edwards nothing of Sir Digby's curious +request, of his strange confidences, or of the mysterious +letter to "E. P. K.", which now reposed +in a locked drawer in my writing-table.</p> + +<p>My friend, be he impostor or not, had always +treated me strictly honourably and well. Therefore, +I did not intend to betray him, although he might +be a fugitive hunted by the police.</p> + +<p>Yet was he a fugitive? Did not his words to +me and his marvellous disguise prior to the tragedy +imply an intention to disappear?</p> + +<p>The enigma was indeed beyond solution.</p> + +<p>At seven o'clock my visitor, finding necessity to +revisit Harrington Gardens, I eagerly accompanied +him.</p> + +<p>There is a briskness and brightness in Piccadilly +at seven o'clock on a clear, cold, winter's night +unequalled in any thoroughfare in the world. On +the pavements and in the motor-buses are thousands +of London's workers hurrying to their homes in +western suburbs, mostly the female employees of +the hundreds of shops and work-rooms which supply +the world's fashions—for, after all, London has now<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +ousted Paris as the centre of the feminine mode—the +shops are still gaily lit, the club windows have not +yet drawn their blinds, and as motors and taxis +flash past eastward, one catches glimpses of pretty +women in gay evening gowns, accompanied by their +male escorts on pleasure bent: the restaurant, +the theatre, and the supper, until the unwelcome +cry—that cry which resounds at half-past twelve +from end to end of Greater London, "Time, please, +ladies and gentlemen. Time!"—the pharisaical +decree that further harmless merriment is forbidden. +How the foreigner laughs at our childish obedience +to the decree of the killjoys. And well he may, +especially when we know full well that while the +good people of the middle class are forced to return +to the dulness of their particular suburb, the people +of the class above them can sneak in by back doors +of unsuspected places, and indulge in drinking, +gambling, and dancing till daylight. Truly the +middle-class Londoner is a meek, obedient person. +One day, however, he may revolt.</p> + +<p>Piccadilly was particularly bright and gay that +night, as, passing the end of St. James's Street, we +sped forward in the taxi towards Brompton Road +and past the Natural History Museum to Gloucester +Road.</p> + +<p>On our arrival the door of the flat was opened by +a constable without a helmet. Recognising the +famous inspector, he saluted.</p> + +<p>The body of the unknown girl had been removed +to the mortuary for a post-mortem examination, +but nothing else had been moved, and two officers +of the C.I.D. were busy making examination for +finger-prints.</p> + +<p>I allowed them to take mine for comparison, but +some they found upon the mahogany table and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +upon the back of a chair were undoubtedly those of +the victim herself.</p> + +<p>The small glass-topped specimen-table still lay +where it had been overturned, and the fragments of +the two green-glass flower-vases were strewn upon the +carpet with the drooping red anemones themselves.</p> + +<p>Regarding the overturned table the two detectives +held that it had separated the assassin from his +victim; that the girl had been chased around it +several times before her assailant had thrown it +down, suddenly sprung upon her, and delivered the +fatal blow, full in her chest.</p> + +<p>"We've thoroughly examined it for finger-prints, +sir," the elder of the two officers explained to my +companion. "Both on the glass top and on the +mahogany edge there are a number of prints of the +victim herself, as well as a number made by another +hand."</p> + +<p>"A man's?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"No; curiously enough, it seems to be a woman's," +was the reply.</p> + +<p>"A woman's!"</p> + +<p>I thought of that sweet perfume, and of the person +who had lurked in the shadow of the stairs!</p> + +<p>"That's interesting," remarked Edwards. "They +may be those of the woman who wore green combs +in her hair, or else of the porter's wife."</p> + +<p>"The owner's man-servant is away abroad on +business for his master, we've found out," answered +the man addressed. "So of late the porter's wife, +who lives in the basement of the next house, has +been in the habit of coming in every day and tidying +up the room. We took her prints this morning, +and have found quite a lot about the place. No," +added the man emphatically, "the finger-prints on +that little table yonder are not those of the porter's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +wife, but of another woman who's been here recently. +We only find them upon the door-handle and on the +edge of the writing-table, against which the woman +must have leaned. We'll have them photographed +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The men then showed us the marks in question—distinct +impressions of small finger-tips, which +they had rendered vivid and undeniable by the +application of a finely-powdered chalk of a pale +green colour.</p> + +<p>Apparently the two experts had devoted the whole +day to the search for finger-print clues, and they +had established the fact that two women had been +there—the victim and another.</p> + +<p>Who was she?</p> + +<p>The investigation of the papers in my friend's +writing-table had not yet been made. Inspector +Edwards had telephoned earlier in the day, stating +that he would himself go through them.</p> + +<p>Therefore, exercising every care not to obliterate +the three finger-marks upon the edge of the table, the +officers proceeded to break open drawer after +drawer and methodically examine the contents while +I looked on.</p> + +<p>The work was exciting. At any moment we might +discover something which would throw light upon +the tragedy, the grim evidence of which remained +in that dark, still damp stain upon the carpet—the +life-blood of the unknown victim.</p> + +<p>Already the face of the dead girl had been +photographed, and would, before morning, be +circulated everywhere in an endeavour to secure +identification.</p> + +<p>I had learnt from Edwards that before noon that +morning, upon the notice-board outside Bow Street +Police Station, there had been posted one of those<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +pale, buff-coloured bills headed in great, bold +capitals: "Body found," in which the description +had been filled in by a clerkish hand, and at the +bottom a statement that the corpse was lying at the +Kensington Mortuary awaiting identification.</p> + +<p>That she was a lady seemed established by her +dress, her well-kept hands, innocent of manual +labour, by the costly rings and bracelet she was +wearing, and the fact that, in the pocket of her +coat was found her purse containing eleven pounds +in gold and some silver.</p> + +<p>Sir Digby's papers promised to be extremely +interesting, as we cleared the books off a side-table +and sat down to carefully investigate them.</p> + +<p>The writing-table was a pedestal one, with a +centre drawer and four drawers on either side. The +first drawer burst open was the top one on the left, +and from it Edwards drew two bundles of letters, +each secured by faded pink tape.</p> + +<p>These bundles he handed to me, saying—</p> + +<p>"See what you think of these, Mr. Royle!"</p> + +<p>One after another I opened them. They were all +in the same sprawly handwriting of a woman—a +woman who simply signed herself "Mittie."</p> + +<p>They were love-letters written in the long ago, +many commencing "My darling," or "Dearest," +and some with "Dear old Dig."</p> + +<p>Though it seemed mean of me to peer into the +closed chapter of my friend's history, I quickly +found myself absorbed in them. They were the +passionate outpourings of a brave but overburdened +heart. Most of them were dated from hotels in +the South of England and in Ireland, and were +apparently written at the end of the eighties. But +as no envelopes had been preserved they gave no +clue to where the addressee had been at the time.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + +<p>Nearly all were on foreign notepaper, so we agreed +that he must have been abroad.</p> + +<p>As I read, it became apparent that the writer and +the addressee had been deeply in love with one +another, but the lady's parents had forbidden their +marriage; and as, alas! in so many like cases, she +had been induced to make an odious but wealthier +marriage. The man's name was Francis.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"He is, alas! just the same," she wrote in one +letter dated "Mount Ephraim Hotel, at Tunbridge +Wells, Thursday": "We have nothing in common. +He only thinks of his dividends, his stocks and +shares, and his business in the City always. I am +simply an ornament of his life, a woman who acts +as his hostess and relieves him of much trouble in +social anxieties. If father had not owed him +seventeen thousand pounds he would, I feel certain, +never have allowed me to marry him. But I paid +my father's debt with my happiness, with my very +life. And you, dear old Dig, are the only person +who knows the secret of my broken heart. You will +be home in London seven weeks from to-day. I +will meet you at the old place at three o'clock on +the first of October, for I have much—so very much—to +tell you. Father knows now how I hate this +dull, impossible life of mine, and how dearly I love +your own kind self. I told him so to-day, and he +pities me. I hope you will get this letter before +you leave, but I shall watch the movements of your +ship, and I shall meet you on the first of October. +Till then adieu.—Ever your own <span class="smcap">Mittie</span>."</p></div> + +<p>At the old place! Where was it, I wondered? +At what spot had the secret meeting been effected +between the man who had returned from abroad<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +and the woman who loved him so well, though she had +been forced to become the wife of another.</p> + +<p>That meeting had taken place more than twenty +years ago. What had been its result was shown +in the next letter I opened.</p> + +<p>Written from the Queen's Hotel at Hastings on +the fourth of October, the unfortunate "Mittie," +who seemed to spend her life travelling on the +South Coast, penned the following in a thin, uncertain +hand:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Our meeting was a mistake, Dig, a grave mistake. +We were watched by somebody in the employ of +Francis. When I returned to Tunbridge Wells he +taxed me with having met you, described our +trysting-place—the fountain—and how we had +walked and walked until, becoming too tired, we +had entered that quiet little restaurant to dine. +He has misjudged me horribly. The sneak who +watched us must have lied to him, or he would +never have spoken to me as he did—he would not +have insulted me. That night I left him, and am +here alone. Do not come near me, do not reply +to this. It might make matters worse. Though +we are parted, Dig, you know I love you and only +you—<i>you</i>! Still your own <span class="smcap">Mittie</span>."</p></div> + +<p>I sat staring at that half-faded letter, taking no +heed of what Edwards was saying.</p> + +<p>The fountain! They had met at the fountain, +and had been seen!</p> + +<p>Could that spot be the same as mentioned in the +mysterious letter left behind by the fugitive Cane +after the sudden death of the Englishman away in +far-off Peru?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<p>Did someone, after all the lapse of years, go there +on every twenty-third of the month at noon wearing +a yellow flower, to wait for a person who, alas! +never came?</p> + +<p>The thought filled me with romance, even though +we were at that moment investigating a very remarkable +tragedy. Yet surely in no city in this +world is there so much romance, so much pathos, +such whole-hearted love and affection, or such +deep and deadly hatred as in our great palpitating +metropolis, where secret assassinations are of daily +occurrence, and where the most unpardonable sin +is that of being found out.</p> + +<p>"What's that you've got hold of?" Edwards +asked me, as he crossed to the table and bent +over me.</p> + +<p>I started.</p> + +<p>Then, recovering myself—for I had no desire that +he should know—replied, quite coolly:</p> + +<p>"Oh, only a few old letters—written long ago, in +the eighties."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Ancient history, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I replied, packing them together and retying +them with the soiled, pink tape. "But have +you discovered anything?"</p> + +<p>"Well," he replied with a self-conscious smile, +"I've found a letter here which rather alters my +theory," and I saw that he held a piece of grey +notepaper in his hand. "Here is a note addressed +to him as long ago as 1900 in the name of Sir +Digby Kemsley! Perhaps, after all, the man +who died so mysteriously in Peru was an impostor, +and the owner of this place was the real +Sir Digby!"</p> + +<p>"Exactly my own theory," I declared.</p> + +<p>"But that fountain!" he remarked. "The foun<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>tain +mentioned in the letter left behind by the man +Cane. We must take immediate steps to identify +it, and it must be watched on the twenty-third +for the coming of the woman who wears a yellow +flower. When we find her, we shall be able to +discover something very interesting, Mr. Royle. +Don't you agree?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>"TIME WILL PROVE."</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">These</span> are truly the fevered days of journalistic +enterprise the world over.</p> + +<p>There are no smarter journalists than those of +Fleet Street, and none, not even in New York, with +scent more keen for sensational news. "The day's +story" is the first thought in every newspaper +office, and surely no story would have been a greater +"scoop" for any journal than the curious facts +which I have related in the foregoing pages.</p> + +<p>But even though the gentlemen of the Press are +ubiquitous, many a curious happening, and many +a remarkable coroner's inquiry, often remain +unreported.</p> + +<p>And so in this case. When, on the following +morning, the coroner for the borough of Kensington +held his inquiry in the little court off the High Street, +no reporter was present, and only half a dozen idlers +were seated in the back of the gloomy room.</p> + +<p>When the jury had taken their seats after viewing +the remains, according to custom, the police inspector +reported to the coroner that the body remained +unidentified, though the description had been +telegraphed everywhere.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I might add, sir," went on the inspector, "that +there is strong belief that the young lady may be +a foreigner. Upon the tab of her coat she was +wearing was the name of a costumier: 'Sartori, +Via Roma.' Only the name of the street, and +not the town is given. But it must be somewhere +in Italy. We are in communication with +the Italian police with a view to ascertaining the +name of the town, and hope thus to identify the +deceased."</p> + +<p>"Very well!" said the coroner, a shrewd, middle-aged, +clean-shaven man in gold pince-nez. "Let +us have the evidence," and he arranged his papers +with business-like exactitude.</p> + +<p>The procedure differed in no way from that in +any other coroner's court in the kingdom, the +relation of dry details by matter-of-fact persons +spoken slowly in order that they might be carefully +taken down.</p> + +<p>The scene was, indeed, a gloomy one, for the +morning was dark, and the place was lit by electric +light. The jury—twelve honest householders of +Kensington—appeared from the outset eager to get +back to their daily avocations. They were unaware +of the curious enigma about to be presented to +them.</p> + +<p>Not until I began to give my evidence did +they appear to evince any curiosity regarding +the case. But presently, when I had related +my midnight interview with my friend, who was +now a fugitive, the foreman put to me several +questions.</p> + +<p>"You say that after your return from your +visit from this man, Sir Digby Kemsley, he rang +you up on the telephone?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What did he say?" inquired the foreman, a +thin, white-headed man whose social standing +was no doubt slightly above that of his fellow +jurymen.</p> + +<p>"He asked me to return to him at once," was +my reply.</p> + +<p>"But this appears extraordinary——"</p> + +<p>"We are not here to criticise the evidence, sir!" +interrupted the coroner sharply. "We are only +here to decide how the deceased came by her death—by +accident, or by violence. Have you any +doubt?"</p> + +<p>The foreman replied in the negative, and refrained +from further cross-examining me.</p> + +<p>The coroner himself, however, put one or two +pointed questions. He asked me whether I believed +that it had actually been Sir Digby speaking on the +second occasion, when I had been rung up, to +which I replied:</p> + +<p>"At first, the voice sounded unfamiliar."</p> + +<p>"At first! Did you recognise it afterwards?"</p> + +<p>I paused for a few seconds, and then was compelled +to admit that I had not been entirely +certain.</p> + +<p>"Voices are, of course, often distorted by the +telephone," remarked the coroner. "But in this +case you may have believed the voice to have been +your friend's because he spoke of things which +you had been discussing in private only half-an-hour +before. It may have been the voice of a +stranger."</p> + +<p>"That is my own opinion, sir," I replied.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he ejaculated, "and I entirely agree with +you, for if your friend had contemplated the crime +of murder he would scarcely have telephoned to +you to come back. He would be most anxious to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +get the longest start he could before the raising of +any hue and cry."</p> + +<p>This remark further aroused the curiosity of the +hitherto apathetic jury, who sat and listened intently +to the medical evidence which followed.</p> + +<p>The result of the doctor's examination was +quickly told, and not of great interest. He had +been called by the police and found the young +woman dying from a deep wound under the breast, +which had penetrated to the heart, the result of a +savage blow with some long, thin, and very sharp +instrument. The girl was not dead when he first +saw her, but she expired about ten minutes +afterwards.</p> + +<p>"I should think that the weapon used was a +knife with a very sharp, triangular blade judging +from the wound," the spruce-looking doctor explained. +"The police, however, have failed to +discover it."</p> + +<p>The words of the witness held me dumbfounded.</p> + +<p>"Have you ever met with knives with triangular +blades, doctor?" inquired the coroner.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" was the reply. "One sees them in +collections of mediæval arms. In ancient days they +were carried almost universally in Southern Europe—the +blade about nine inches long, and sometimes +perforated. Along the blade, grease impregnated +with mineral poison was placed, so that, on striking, +some of the grease would remain in the wound. +This form of knife was most deadly, and in Italy it +was known as a misericordia."</p> + +<p>I sat there listening with open mouth. Why? +Because I knew where one of those curious knives +had been—one with a carved handle of cracked, +yellow ivory. I had often taken it up and looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +at the coat of arms carved upon the ivory—the +shield with the six balls of the princely house of +the Medici.</p> + +<p>"And in your opinion, doctor, the deceased +came by her death from a blow from such a +weapon as you describe?" the coroner was +asking.</p> + +<p>"That is my firm opinion. The wound penetrated +to the heart, and death was probably almost +instantaneous."</p> + +<p>"Would she utter a cry?"</p> + +<p>"I think she would."</p> + +<p>"And yet no one seems to have heard any noise!" +remarked the coroner. "Is that so?" he asked, +turning to the police inspector.</p> + +<p>"We have no evidence of any cry being heard," +replied the officer. "I purposely asked the other +tenants of the flats above and below. But they +heard no unusual sound."</p> + +<p>One of the detective-sergeants was then called; +Inspector Edwards, though present, being purposely +omitted. In reply to the coroner, he described the +finding of the body, its examination, and the +investigation which ensued.</p> + +<p>"I need not ask you if you have any clue to the +assassin," said the coroner, when he had concluded +writing down the depositions. "I presume you are +actively prosecuting inquiries?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," was the brief response.</p> + +<p>"I think, gentlemen," the coroner said, turning +at last to the jury, "that we can go no further with +this inquiry to-day. We must leave it for the police +to investigate, and if we adjourn, let us say for a +fortnight, we may then, I hope, have evidence of +identification before us. The case certainly presents +a number of curious features, not the least being the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +fact that the owner of the flat has mysteriously fled. +When he is found he will, no doubt, throw some light +upon the puzzling affair. I have to thank you for +your attendance to-day, gentlemen," he added, +addressing the dozen respectable householders, "and +ask you to be present again this day fortnight—at +noon."</p> + +<p>There was evident dissatisfaction among the jury, +as there is always when a coroner's inquest is ever +adjourned.</p> + +<p>It is certainly the reverse of pleasant to be +compelled to keep an appointment which may +mean considerable out-of-pocket expense and much +personal inconvenience.</p> + +<p>One juror, indeed, raised an objection, as he had +to go to do business in Scotland. Whereupon the +coroner, as he rose, expressed his regret but declared +himself unable to assist him. It was, he remarked, +his duty as a citizen to assist in this inquiry, and to +arrive at a verdict.</p> + +<p>After that the court rose, and every one broke +up into small groups to discuss the strange +affair of which the Press were at present in +ignorance.</p> + +<p>Edwards had crossed the room and was speaking +to me. But I heard him not. I was thinking of +that triangular-bladed weapon—the "misericordia" +of the middle ages—so frequently used for stealthy +knife-thrusts.</p> + +<p>"Coming?" he asked at last. This aroused me +to a sense of my surroundings, and I followed him +blindly out into the afternoon shopping bustle of +High Street, Kensington.</p> + +<p>Outside the Underground Station were the flower-sellers. +Some were offering that tribute which the +Riviera never fails to send to us Londoners in spring<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>—sprigs +of mimosa: the yellow flower which would +be worn by the mysterious "E. P. K.," the written +message to whom reposed in my writing-table at +home.</p> + +<p>Personally, I am not a man of mystery, but just +an ordinary London business man, differing in no +way to thousands of others who are at the head of +prosperous commercial concerns. London with all +its garish glitter, its moods of dulness and of +gaiety, its petrol-smelling streets, its farces of +passing life, and its hard and bitter dramas always +appealed to me. It was my home, the atmosphere +in which I had been born and bred, nay, my very +existence. I loved London and was ever true to +the city of my birth, even though its climate +might be derided, and Paris claimed as the one +city in which to find the acme of comfort and +enjoyment.</p> + +<p>I had not sought mystery—far from it. It had +been thrust upon me, and now, as we went along +the High Street in Kensington, towards the police-station, +I found myself a sudden but important +factor in a stern chase—a man-hunt—such as +London had seldom known, for Edwards was saying +to me:</p> + +<p>"At all hazards we must find your friend Kemsley, +and you, Mr. Royle, must help us. You know him, +and can identify him. There are grave suspicions +against him, and these must be cleared up in +view of the mysterious tragedy in Harrington +Gardens."</p> + +<p>"You surely don't expect me to denounce my +friend!" I cried.</p> + +<p>"It is not a question of denouncing him. His +own actions have rendered the truth patent to +every one. The girl was brutally killed, and he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +disappeared. Therefore he must be found," +Edwards said.</p> + +<p>"But who was it who telephoned to me, do you +think?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Himself, perhaps. He was full of inventiveness, +and he may have adopted that course hoping, when +the time came, to prove an alibi. Who knows?" +asked the famous inspector.</p> + +<p>"Look here!" I said as we crossed the threshold +of the police-station, "I don't believe Sir Digby +was either an impostor or an assassin."</p> + +<p>"Time will prove, Mr. Royle," he laughed with +an incredulous air. "A man don't take all these +precautions before disappearing unless he has a +deeper motive. Your friend evidently knew of the +lady's impending visit. Indeed, how could she have +entered the flat had he not admitted her?"</p> + +<p>"She might have had a key," I hazarded.</p> + +<p>"Might—but not very likely," he said. "No, +my firm conviction is that the man you know as +Sir Digby Kemsley struck the fatal blow, and took +the knife away with him."</p> + +<p>I shrugged my shoulders, but did not reply.</p> + +<p>Inside the station, we passed into the long room +devoted to the officers of the Criminal Investigation +Department attached to the division, and there +met two sergeants who had given evidence.</p> + +<p>I was shown the photograph of the dead unknown, +calm, and even pretty, just as I had seen her lying +stretched in Digby's room.</p> + +<p>"The medical evidence was curious, Mr. Royle, +wasn't it?" Edwards remarked. "That triangular +knife ought not to be very difficult to trace. There +surely are not many of them about."</p> + +<p>"No," I replied faintly, for the recollection of one +which I had seen only a few days prior to the tragic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +occurrence—the one with the arms of the Medici +carved upon its hilt, arose vividly before me.</p> + +<p>To me, alas! the awful truth was now plain.</p> + +<p>My suspicion regarding the culprit had, by the +doctor's evidence, become entirely confirmed.</p> + +<p>I set my jaws hard in agony of mind. What +was a mystery of London was to me no longer a +mystery!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>THE PIECE OF CONVICTION.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">The</span> morning of the tenth of January was one of +those of gloom and darkness which are, on occasions, +the blots upon London's reputation.</p> + +<p>There seemed no fog, only a heavy, threatening +cloud of night fell suddenly upon the city, and at +three o'clock it might have been midnight. Streets, +shops, and offices were lit everywhere, and buses +and taxis compelled to light up, while in the atmosphere +was a sulphurous odour with a black deposit +which caused the eyes to smart and the lungs to +irritate.</p> + +<p>Londoners know those periods of unpleasant +darkness only too well.</p> + +<p>I was sitting in my room in Albemarle Street, +watching Haines, who was cleaning a piece of old +silver I had bought at an auction on the previous day. +The collecting of old silver is, I may say, my hobby, +and the piece was a very fine old Italian reliquary, +about ten inches in height, with the Sicilian mark +of the seventeenth century.</p> + +<p>Haines, under my tuition, had become an expert +and careful cleaner of silver, and I was watching and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +exhorting him to exercise the greatest care, as the +ornamentation was thin, and some of the scrollwork +around the top extremely fragile. It had, +according to the inscription at its base, contained a +bone of a certain saint—a local saint of Palermo it +seemed—but the relic had disappeared long ago. +Yet the silver case which, for centuries, had stood +upon an altar somewhere, was a really exquisite +piece of the silversmith's art.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the telephone-bell rang, and on answering +it I heard Phrida's voice asking—</p> + +<p>"I say, Teddy, is that you? Why haven't you +been over since Thursday?"</p> + +<p>I started, recollecting that I had not been to +Cromwell Road since the afternoon of the inquest—three +days ago.</p> + +<p>"Dear, do forgive me," I craved. "I—I've been +so horribly busy. Had to be at the works each day."</p> + +<p>"But you might have been over in the evening," +she responded in a tone of complaint. "You +remember you promised to take me to the St. +James's last night, and I expected you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dearest, I'm so sorry," I said. "But I've +been awfully worried, you know. Do forgive me!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know!" she answered. "Well, I'll +forgive you if you'll run over now and take me to tea +at the Leslies. I've ordered the car for four o'clock. +Will that suit you?"</p> + +<p>The Leslies! They were snobbish folk with whom +I had but little in common. Yet what could I do +but agree?</p> + +<p>And then my well-beloved rang off.</p> + +<p>When I got down to Cromwell Road just before +four o'clock, the darkness had not lifted.</p> + +<p>My feelings as I passed along the big, old-fashioned +hall and up the thickly-carpeted stairs to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +drawing-room were mixed ones of doubt, and yet +of deep affection.</p> + +<p>Ah, I loved Phrida—loved her better than my +own life—and yet——?</p> + +<p>Fresh in my memory was the doctor's evidence +that the crime in Harrington Gardens had been +committed with a thin, triangular knife—a knife +such as that I had often seen lying upon the old-fashioned, +walnut what-not in the corner of the room +I was just about to enter. I had known it lying +in the same place for years.</p> + +<p>Was it still there?</p> + +<p>Purposely, because I felt that it could no longer +be there, I had refrained from calling upon my love, +and now, when I paused and turned the handle of +the drawing-room door, I hardly dared to cast my +eyes upon that antiquated piece of furniture.</p> + +<p>Phrida, who was sitting with her hat and coat +already on, jumped up gaily to meet me.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you really are prompt, Teddy!" she cried +with a flush of pleasure.</p> + +<p>Then, as I bent over her mother's hand, the latter +said—</p> + +<p>"You're quite a stranger, Mr. Royle. I expect +you have been very upset over the curious disappearance +of your friend. We've searched the +papers every day, but could find nothing whatever +about it."</p> + +<p>Phrida had turned towards the fire, her pretty +head bent as she buttoned her glove.</p> + +<p>"No," I replied. "Up to the present the newspapers +are in complete ignorance of the affair. But +no doubt they'll learn all about it before long."</p> + +<p>Then, crossing the room to pick up a magazine +lying upon a chair, I halted against the old walnut +what-not.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>Yes, the mediæval poignard was still lying there, +just as I had always seen it!</p> + +<p>Had it been used, and afterwards replaced?</p> + +<p>I scarcely dared to glance at it, lest I should +betray any unusual interest. I felt that Phrida's +eyes were watching me, that she suspected my +knowledge.</p> + +<p>I took up the magazine idly, glanced at it, and, +replacing it, returned to her side.</p> + +<p>"Well," she asked, "are you ready?"</p> + +<p>And then together we descended to the car.</p> + +<p>All the way up to Abbey Road she hardly spoke. +She seemed unusually pale and haggard. I asked +her what was the matter, but she only replied in a +faint, unnatural voice—</p> + +<p>"Matter? Why nothing—nothing, I assure you, +Teddy!"</p> + +<p>I did not reply. I gazed upon the pretty, pale-faced +figure at my side in wonder and yet in fear. +I loved her—ah! I loved her well and truly, with all +my soul. Yet was it possible that by means of that +knife lying there so openly in that West-End drawing-room +a woman's life had been treacherously taken.</p> + +<p>Had my friend Digby, the fugitive, actually +committed the crime?</p> + +<p>When I put the whole matter clearly and with +common-sense before myself, I was bound to admit +that I had a strong belief of his innocence.</p> + +<p>What would those finger-prints reveal?</p> + +<p>The thought held me breathless. Yes, to satisfy +myself I would surreptitiously secure finger-prints +of my well-beloved and then in secret compare them +with those found in Sir Digby's rooms.</p> + +<p>But how? I was reflecting as the car passed by +Apsley House and into the Park on its way to St. +John's Wood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> + +<p>Was I acting honestly? I doubted her, I quite +admit. Yet I felt that if I took some object—a +glass, or something with a polished surface—that she +had touched, and submitted it to examination, I +would be acting as a sneak.</p> + +<p>The idea was repugnant to me. Yet with +that horrible suspicion obsessing me I felt +that I must do something in order to satisfy +myself.</p> + +<p>What inane small talk I uttered in the Leslies' big, +over-furnished drawing-room I know not. All I +remember is that I sat with some insipid girl whose +hair was flaxen and as colourless as her mind, +sipping my tea while I listened to her silly chatter +about a Cook's tour she had just taken through +Holland and Belgium. The estimable Cook is, alas! +responsible for much tea-table chatter among the +fair sex.</p> + +<p>Our hostess was an obese, flashily-dressed, dogmatic +lady, the wife of the chairman of a big +drapery concern who, having married her eldest +daughter to a purchased knighthood, fondly believed +herself to be in society—thanks to the "paid paragraphs" +in the social columns of certain morning +newspapers. It is really wonderful what half-guineas +will do towards social advancement in these +days! For a guinea one's presence can be recorded +at a dinner, or an at home, or one's departure +from town can be notified to the world in general +in a paragraph all to one's self—a paragraph which +rubs shoulders with those concerning the highest +in the land. The snobbery of the "social column" +would really be amusing were it not so painfully +apparent. A good press-agent will, for a fee, give +one as much publicity and newspaper popularity as +that enjoyed by a duke, and most amazing is it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +that such paragraphs are swallowed with keen +avidity by Suburbia.</p> + +<p>The Leslies were an average specimen of the upper +middle-class, who were struggling frantically to +get into a good set. The old man was bald, pompous, +and always wore gold pince-nez and a fancy +waistcoat. He carried his shop manners into his +drawing-room, retaining his habit of rubbing his +hands in true shop-walker style when he wished +to be polite to his guests.</p> + +<p>His wife was a loud-tongued and altogether impossible +person, who, it was said, had once served +behind the counter in a small shop in Cardiff, +but who now regarded the poor workers in her +husband's huge emporium as mere money-making +machines.</p> + +<p>By dint of careful cultivation at bazaars and +such-like charitable functions she had scraped acquaintance +with a few women of title, to whom she +referred in conversation as "dear Lady So and So, +who said to me the other day," or "as my friend +Lady Violet always says."</p> + +<p>She had buttonholed me at last, though I had +endeavoured to escape her, and was standing before +me like a pouter-pigeon pluming herself and endeavouring +to be humorous at the expense of a +very modest little married woman who had been +her guest that afternoon and had just left after +shaking my hand.</p> + +<p>Women of Mrs. Leslie's stamp are perhaps the +most evil-tongued of all. They rise from obscurity, +and finding wealth at their command, imagine that +they can command obeisance and popularity. Woe +betide other women who arouse their jealousy, for +they will scandalise and blight the reputation of +the purest of their sex in the suburban belief<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +that the invention of scandal is the hallmark of +smartness.</p> + +<p>At last I got rid of her, thanks to the arrival +of an elegant young man, the younger son of a +well-known peer, to whom, of course, she was at +once all smiles, and, presently, I found myself out +in the hall with Phrida. I breathed more freely +when at last I passed into the keen air and entered +the car.</p> + +<p>"Those people are impossible, dearest," I blurted +out when the car had moved away from the door. +"They are the most vulgar pair I know."</p> + +<p>"I quite agree," replied my well-beloved, pulling +the fur rug over her knees. "But they are old +friends of mother's, so I'm compelled to go and see +them sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" I sighed. "I suppose the old draper +will buy a knighthood at this year's sale for the +King's Birthday, and then his fat wife will have a +tin handle to her name."</p> + +<p>"Really, Teddy, you're simply awful," replied +my companion. "If they heard you I wonder +what they would say?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care," I replied frankly. "I only +speak the truth. The Government sell their titles +to anybody who cares to buy. Ah! I fear that +few men who really deserve honour ever get it +in these days. No man can become great unless +he has the influence of money to back him. The +biggest swindler who ever walked up Threadneedle +Street can buy a peerage, always providing he is +married and has no son. As old Leslie buys his +calicoes, ribbons and women's frills, so he'll buy +his title. He hasn't a son, so perhaps he'll fancy +a peerage and become the Lord Bargain of Sale."</p> + +<p>Phrida laughed heartily at my biting sarcasm.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<p>Truth to tell, though I was uttering bitter sentiments, +my thoughts were running in a very different +direction. I was wondering how I could best +obtain the finger-prints of the woman who held +my future so irrevocably in her hands.</p> + +<p>I had become determined to satisfy myself of +my love's innocence—or—can I write the words?—of +her guilt!</p> + +<p>And as I sat there beside her, my nostrils again +became filled by that sweet subtle perfume—the +perfume of tragedy.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> + + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>FATAL FINGERS.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">Two</span> days passed.</p> + +<p>Those finger-prints—impressions left by a woman—upon +the glass-topped specimen table in Sir +Digby's room and on the door handle, were puzzling +the police as they puzzled me. They had already +been proved not to be those of the porter's wife, +the lines being lighter and more refined.</p> + +<p>According to Edwards, after the finger-prints +had been photographed, search had been made +in the archives at Scotland Yard, but no record could +be found that they were those of any person previously +convicted.</p> + +<p>Were they imprints of the hand of my well-beloved?</p> + +<p>I held my breath each time that black and terrible +suspicion filled my mind. I tried to put them aside, +but, like a nightmare, they would recur to me hourly +until I felt impelled to endeavour to satisfy myself +as to her guilt or her innocence.</p> + +<p>I loved her. Yes, passionately and truly. Yet, +somehow, I could not prevent this ever-recurring +suspicion to fill my mind. There were so many +small points to be elucidated—the jingle of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +golden bangles, and especially the perfume, which +each time I entered her presence recalled to me all +the strange and unaccountable happenings of that +fatal night.</p> + +<p>Again, who was the poor, unidentified victim—the +pale-faced, pretty young woman who had visited +Digby clandestinely, and gone to her death?</p> + +<p>Up to the present the police notices circulated +throughout the country had failed to establish +who she was. Yet, if she were a foreigner, as +seemed so likely, identification might be extremely +difficult; indeed, she might ever remain a mystery.</p> + +<p>It was nearly ten o'clock at night when I called +at Cromwell Road, for I had excused myself for +not coming earlier, having an object in view.</p> + +<p>I found Phrida in the library, sweet and attractive +in a pale blue gown cut slightly <i>décolletée</i>. She +and her mother had been out to dinner somewhere +in Holland Park, and had only just returned.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Shand drew an armchair for me to the fire, +and we all three sat down to chat in the cosiness +of the sombre little book-lined den. Bain, the +old butler, who had known me almost since childhood, +placed the tantalus, a syphon and glasses +near my elbow, and at Phrida's invitation I poured +myself out a drink and lit a cigarette.</p> + +<p>"Come," I said, "you will have your usual +lemonade"; and at my suggestion her mother +ordered Bain to bring a syphon of that harmless +beverage.</p> + +<p>My love reached forward for one of the glasses, +whereupon I took one and, with a word of apology, +declared that it was not quite clean.</p> + +<p>"Not clean!" exclaimed Mrs. Shand quickly.</p> + +<p>"There are a few smears upon it," I said, and +adding "Excuse my handkerchief. It is quite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +clean," I took the silk handkerchief I carried with +me purposely, and polished it with the air of a +professional waiter.</p> + +<p>Both Phrida and her mother laughed.</p> + +<p>"Really, Mr. Royle, you are full of eccentricities," +declared Mrs. Shand. "You always remind me +of your poor father. He was most particular."</p> + +<p>"One cannot be too careful, or guard sufficiently +against germs, you know," I said, handling the +clean glass carefully and pouring out the lemonade +from the syphon.</p> + +<p>Phrida took the glass from my hand, and laughing +happily across its edge, drank. Her fingers were +leaving tell-tale impressions upon its surface. And +yet she was unconscious of my duplicity. Ah! +yes, I hated myself for my double dealing. And +yet so filled was I now by dark and breathless suspicion, +that I found myself quite unable to resist +an opportunity of establishing proof.</p> + +<p>I watched her as she, in all innocence, leaned back +in the big saddle-bag chair holding her glass in +her hand and now and then contemplating it. The +impressions—impressions which could not lie—would +be the means of exonerating her—or of condemning +her.</p> + +<p>Those golden bangles upon her slim white wrist +and that irritating perfume held me entranced. +What did she know concerning that strange tragedy +in Harrington Gardens. What, indeed, was the +secret?</p> + +<p>My chief difficulty was to remain apparently +indifferent. But to do so was indeed a task. I +loved her, aye, with all my strength, and all my +soul. Yet the black cloud which had fallen upon +her was one of impenetrable mystery, and as I sat +gazing upon her through the haze of my cigarette<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +smoke, I fell to wondering, just as I had wondered +during all those hours which had elapsed since +I had scented that first whiff of Parfait d'Amour, +with which her chiffons seemed impregnated.</p> + +<p>At last she put down her empty glass upon the +bookshelf near her. Several books had been +removed, leaving a vacant space.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Shand had already risen and bade me good-night; +therefore, we were alone. So I rose from +my chair and, bending over her, kissed her fondly +upon the brow.</p> + +<p>No. I would believe her innocent. That white +hand—the soft little hand I held in mine could +never have taken a woman's life. I refused to +believe it, and yet!</p> + +<p>Did she know more of Sir Digby Kemsley than +she had admitted? Why had she gone to his flat +at that hour, lurking upon the stairs until he should +be alone, and, no doubt, in ignorance that I was his +visitor?</p> + +<p>As I bent over her, stroking her soft hair with +my hand, I tried to conjure up the scene which +had taken place in Sir Digby's room—the tragedy +which had caused my friend to flee and hide himself. +Surely, something of a very terrible nature +must have happened, or my friend—impostor or +not—would have remained, faced the music, and +told the truth.</p> + +<p>I knew Digby better than most men. The police +had declared him to be an impostor; nevertheless, +I still believed in him, even though he was now a +fugitive. Edwards had laughed at my faith in +the man who was my friend, but I felt within me a +strong conviction that he was not so black as pigheaded +officialdom had painted him.</p> + +<p>The Council of Seven at Scotland Yard might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +be a clever combination of expert brains, but they +were not infallible, as had been proved so many +times in the recent annals of London crime.</p> + +<p>Phrida had not referred to the tragedy, and I +had not therefore mentioned it.</p> + +<p>My sole object at the moment was to obtain +possession of the empty glass and carry it with me +from the house.</p> + +<p>But how could I effect this without arousing her +suspicion?</p> + +<p>She had risen and stood with her back to the +blazing fire, her pretty lips parted in a sweet smile. +We were discussing a play at which she had been +on the previous evening, a comedy that had taken +the town by storm.</p> + +<p>Her golden bangles jingled as she moved—that +same light metallic sound I had heard in the darkness +of the staircase at Harrington Gardens. My +eager fingers itched to obtain possession of that +glass which stood so tantalisingly within a couple +of feet of my hand. By its means I could establish +the truth.</p> + +<p>"Well, Teddy," my beloved said at last, as she +glanced at the chiming clock upon the mantelshelf. +"It's past eleven, so I suppose I must go to bed. +Mallock is always in a bad temper if I keep her up +after eleven."</p> + +<p>"I suppose that is only natural," I laughed. +"She often waits hours and hours for you. That +I know."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she sighed. "But Mallock is really a +model maid. So much better than Rayne."</p> + +<p>Personally, I did not like the woman Mallock. +She was a thin-nosed, angular person, who wore +pince-nez, and was of a decidedly inquisitive +disposition. But I, of course, had never shown<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +any antagonism towards her; indeed, I considered +it diplomatic to treat her with tact and consideration. +She had been maid to the oldest daughter of a well-known +and popular countess before entering Phrida's +service, and I could well imagine that her principal +topic of conversation in the servants' hall was the +superiority of her late mistress, whose service she +had left on her marriage to a wealthy peer.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad she is an improvement upon Rayne," +I said, for want of something else to say, and, rising, +I took her little hand and pressed it to my lips +in farewell.</p> + +<p>When she had kissed me I said:</p> + +<p>"I'll just finish my cigarette, and I can let +myself out."</p> + +<p>"Very well. But look in to-morrow, dear, won't +you?" she replied, as I opened the door for her +to pass. "Better still, I'll ring you up about +three o'clock and see what you are doing. Oh! +by the way, mother wants to remind you of your +promise to dine with us on Wednesday night. I +quite forgot. Of course you will—eight o'clock +as usual."</p> + +<p>"Wednesday!" I exclaimed vaguely, recollecting +the acceptance of Mrs. Shand's invitation about a +week previously. "What date is that?"</p> + +<p>"Why, the fourteenth."</p> + +<p>"The fourteenth!" I echoed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, why? Really, you look quite scared, +Freddy. What's the matter. Is anything terrible +going to happen on that date?" she asked, looking +at me with some concern.</p> + +<p>"Going to happen—why?" I asked, striving +to calm myself.</p> + +<p>"Oh—well, because you look so horribly pale. +When I told you the date you gave quite a jump!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A jump? Did I?" I asked, striving to remain +calm. "I didn't know, but, really, I'm filled with +great disappointment. I'm so sorry, but it will be +quite impossible for me to dine with you."</p> + +<p>"Another engagement?" she said in a rather +irritated tone. "Going to some people whom +you like better than us, of course. You might +tell the truth, Teddy."</p> + +<p>"The truth is that I have a prior engagement," +I said. "One that I cannot break. I have to fulfill +faithfully a promise I gave to a very dear friend."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you do it some other time?"</p> + +<p>"No," I answered. "Only on the evening of +the fourteenth."</p> + +<p>"Then you can't come to us?" she asked with +a pout.</p> + +<p>"I'll look in after," I promised. "But to dine is +entirely out of the question."</p> + +<p>I saw that she was annoyed, but next moment +her lips parted again in a pretty smile, and she said:</p> + +<p>"Very well, then. But remember, you will not +be later than ten, will you?"</p> + +<p>"I promise not to be, dearest," I answered, +and kissing her, she ascended to her room.</p> + +<p>The fourteenth! It was on that evening I +had to carry out the promise made to Digby and +meet the mysterious lady at the Piccadilly Circus +Tube Station—the person whose initials were +"E. P. K." and who would wear in her breast a +spray of mimosa.</p> + +<p>I returned to the library, and for a second stood +thinking deeply. Would I, by that romantic +meeting, be placed in possession of some further +fact which might throw light upon the mystery? +Ah! would I, I wondered?</p> + +<p>The empty glass caught my eye, and I was about<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +to cross and secure it when Bain suddenly entered. +Seeing me, he drew back quickly, saying: "I +beg pardon, sir. I thought you had gone. Will +you take anything more, sir?"</p> + +<p>"No, not to-night, Bain," was my reply.</p> + +<p>Whereupon the old servant glanced around for +the missing glass, and I saw with heart-sinking +that he placed it upon the tray to carry it back +to the servants' quarters.</p> + +<p>The link which I had been so careful in preparing +was already vanishing from my gaze, when of +a sudden I said:</p> + +<p>"I'll change my mind, Bain. I wonder if you +have a lemon in the house?"</p> + +<p>"I'll go to the kitchen and see if cook has one, +sir," replied the old man, who, placing down the +tray, left to do my bidding.</p> + +<p>In an instant I sprang forward and seized the +empty tumbler, handling it carefully. Swiftly, +I tore a piece off the evening paper, and wrapping it +around the glass, placed it in the pocket of my +dinner jacket.</p> + +<p>Then, going into the hall, I put on my overcoat +and hat, and awaited Bain's return.</p> + +<p>"I shan't want that lemon!" I cried to him as +he came up from the lower regions. "Good-night, +Bain!" and a few moments later I was in a taxi +speeding towards Albemarle Street, with the +evidence I wanted safe in my keeping.</p> + +<p>That finger-prints remained on the polished surface +of the glass I knew full well—the prints of my +beloved's fingers.</p> + +<p>But would they turn out to be the same as the +fingers which had rested upon the glass-topped +specimen-table in Digby's room?</p> + +<p>Opening the door with my latch-key, I dashed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +upstairs, eager to put my evidence to the proof +by means of the finely-powdered green chalk I had +already secured—the same as that used by the +police.</p> + +<p>But on the threshold of my chambers Haines +met me with a message—a message which caused +me to halt breathless and staggered.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>CONTAINS FURTHER EVIDENCE.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2">"<span class="smcap">Sir Digby Kemsley</span> was here an hour ago, sir. +He couldn't wait!" Haines exclaimed, bringing +himself to attention.</p> + +<p>"Sir Digby!" I gasped, starting. "Why, in +heaven's name, didn't you ring me up at Mrs. +Shand's?" I cried.</p> + +<p>"Because he wouldn't allow me, sir. He came +to see you in strictest secrecy, sir. When I opened +the door I didn't know him. He's shaved off his +beard and moustache, and was dressed like a +clergyman."</p> + +<p>"A clergyman!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. He looked just like a parson. +I wouldn't have known him in the street."</p> + +<p>"An excellent ruse!" I exclaimed. "Of course, +Haines, you know that—well—that the police are +looking for him—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly well, but you can trust me, sir. I'll +say nothing. Sir Digby's a friend of yours."</p> + +<p>"Yes, a great friend, and I feel that he's falsely +accused of that terrible affair which happened at his +flat," I said. "Did he promise to call again?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He scribbled this note for you," Haines said, +taking up a letter from my blotting-pad.</p> + +<p>With trembling fingers I tore it open, and upon +a sheet of my own notepaper read the hurriedly +written words—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Sorry you were out. Wanted to see you +most urgently. Keep your promise at Piccadilly +Circus, and know nothing concerning me. My +movements are most uncertain, as something +amazing has occurred which prevents me making +explanation. I will, however, send you my +address in secret as soon as I have one. I trust +you, Teddy, for you are my only friend.</p> + +<p class="ralign smcap" style="padding-right:2em;">"Digby."</p></div> + +<p>I read the note several times, and gathered that +he was in hourly fear of arrest. Every corner +held for him a grave danger. Yet what could have +occurred that was so amazing and which prevented +him speaking the truth.</p> + +<p>That I had not been in when he called was truly +unfortunate. But by the fact that he was in clerical +attire I surmised that he was living in obscurity—perhaps +somewhere in the suburbs. London +is the safest city in the world in which to hide, +unless, of course, creditors or plaintiffs make it +necessary to seek peace "beyond the jurisdiction +of the Court."</p> + +<p>Many a good man is driven to the latter course +through no fault of his own, but by the inexorable +demands of the Commissioners of Income Tax, or by +undue pressure from antagonistic creditors. Every +English colony on the Continent contains some who +have fallen victims—good, honest Englishmen—who +are dragging out the remainder of their lives<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +in obscurity, men whose names are perhaps household +words, but who conceal them beneath one +assumed.</p> + +<p>Digby would probably join the throng of the +exiled. So I could do naught else than wait for +his promised message, even though I was frantic +in my anxiety to see and to question him regarding +the reason of the presence of my well-beloved +at his flat on that fatal night.</p> + +<p>Imagine my bitter chagrin that I had not been +present to receive him! It might be many months +before I heard from him again, for his promise was +surely very vague.</p> + +<p>Presently I took the glass very carefully from my +pocket, unwrapped it from its paper, and locked it +in a little cabinet in the corner of my room, until +next morning I brought it forth, and placing it upon +a newspaper powdered it well with the pale green +chalk which revealed at once a number of finger-marks—mine, +Bain's, and Phrida's.</p> + +<p>I am something of a photographer, as everybody +is in these days of photo competitions. Therefore, +I brought out my Kodak with its anastigmat lens,—a +camera which I had carried for some years +up and down Europe, and after considerable arrangement +of the light, succeeded in taking a number +of pictures. It occupied me all the morning, and +even then I was not satisfied with the result. My +films might, for aught I know, be hopelessly fogged.</p> + +<p>Therefore, with infinite care, I took the glass to a +professional photographer I knew in Bond Street, +and he also made a number of pictures, which were +duly developed and enlarged some hours later, +and showed the distinctive lines and curves of +each finger-print.</p> + +<p>Not until the morning of the day following was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +I able to take these latter to Edwards, and then +a great difficulty presented itself. How was I +to explain how I had obtained the prints?</p> + +<p>I sat for an hour smoking cigarettes furiously +and thinking deeply.</p> + +<p>At last a plan presented itself, and taking a taxi +I went down to Scotland Yard, where I had no +difficulty in obtaining an interview in his airy, +barely-furnished business-like room.</p> + +<p>"Hulloa, Mr. Royle!" he exclaimed cheerily +as I entered. "Sit down—well, do you know +anything more of that mysterious friend of yours—eh?"</p> + +<p>I did not reply. Why should I lie? Instead, +I said:</p> + +<p>"I've been doing some amateur detective work. +Have you the photographs of those finger-prints +found on the specimen-table in Sir Digby's +room?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course," was his prompt reply, and going +over to a cupboard he brought out a pile of papers +concerning the case, and from it produced a number +of photographic prints.</p> + +<p>My heart stood still when I saw them. Were +either of them exactly similar to any of those +I carried with me? I almost feared to allow +comparison to be made.</p> + +<p>Edwards, noticing my hesitation, asked in what +quarter my efforts had been directed.</p> + +<p>"I've been getting some finger-prints, that's +all," I blurted forth, and from my pocket drew the +large envelope containing the prints.</p> + +<p>The detective took them across to the window +and regarded them very closely for some time, while +I looked eagerly over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>The curves and lines were extremely puzzling to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +me, unaccustomed as I was to them. Edwards, +too, remained in silent indecision.</p> + +<p>"We'll send them along to Inspector Tirrell +in the Finger-print Department," my friend said +at last. "He's an expert, and will tell at a glance if +any marks are the same as ours."</p> + +<p>Then he rang a bell, and a constable, at his instructions, +carried all the prints to the department +in question.</p> + +<p>"Well, Mr. Royle," exclaimed the inspector +when the door had closed; "how did you obtain +those prints?"</p> + +<p>I was ready for his question, and a lie was at +once glibly upon my lips.</p> + +<p>"Sir Digby, on the night of his disappearance, +returned to me a small steel despatch box which he +had borrowed some weeks before; therefore, after +the affair, I examined it for finger-prints, with the +result I have shown you," I said.</p> + +<p>"Ah! but whatever prints were upon it were +there before the entrance of the victim to your +friend's rooms," he exclaimed. "He gave it to +you when you bade him good-night, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And you carried the box home with you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I repeated; in fear nevertheless, that +my lie might in some way incriminate me. Yet how +could I tell him of my suspicion of Phrida. That +secret was mine—and mine alone, and, if necessary, +I would carry it with me to the grave.</p> + +<p>Edwards was again silent for some minutes.</p> + +<p>"No, Mr. Royle, I can't see that your evidence +helps us in the least. If there should be the same +prints on your despatch box as we found upon +the specimen-table, then what do they prove?—why, +nothing. If the box had been in the room<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +at the time of the tragedy, then it might have given +us an important clue, because such an object would +probably be touched by any malefactor or assassin. +But——"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" I cried, interrupting. "Then you do +not suspect Sir Digby, after all—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, Mr. Royle, but I did not say that +I held no suspicion," was his quiet answer. "Yet, +if you wish to know the actual truth, I, at present, +am without suspicion of anyone—except of that +second woman, the mysterious woman whose finger-prints +we have, and who was apparently in the +room at the same time as the unidentified victim."</p> + +<p>"You suspect her, then?" I asked breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"Not without further proof," he replied, with a +calm, irritating smile. "I never suspect unless I +have good grounds for doing so. At present we +have three clear finger-prints of a woman whom +nobody saw enter or leave, just as nobody saw the +victim enter. Your friend Sir Digby seems to +have held a midnight reception of persons of +mysterious character, and with tragic result."</p> + +<p>"I feel sure he is no assassin," I cried.</p> + +<p>"It may have been a drama of jealousy—who +knows?" said Edwards, standing erect near the +window and gazing across at me. "Your friend, +in any case, did not care to remain and explain +what happened. A girl—an unknown girl—was +struck down and killed."</p> + +<p>"By whom, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! Mr. Royle, the identity of the assassin +is what we are endeavouring to discover," he replied +gravely. "We must first find this man who has +so successfully posed as Sir Digby Kemsley. He is +a clever and elusive scoundrel, without a doubt. +But his portrait is already circulated both here and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +on the Continent. The ports are all being watched, +while I have five of the best men I can get engaged +on persistent inquiry. He'll try to get abroad, +no doubt. No doubt, also, he has a banking account +somewhere, and through that we shall eventually +trace him. Every man entrusts his banker with +his address. He has to, in order to obtain money."</p> + +<p>"Unless he draws his money out in cash and then +goes to a tourist agency and gets a letter of credit."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, that's often done," my friend admitted. +"The tourist agencies are of greatest use to thieves +and forgers. They take stolen notes, change them +into foreign money, and before the numbers can +be circulated are off across the Channel with their +booty. If we look for stolen notes we are nearly +certain to find them in the hands of a tourist agency +or a money-changer."</p> + +<p>"Then you anticipate that you may find my +friend Digby through his bankers?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," was his vague answer. "But as he +is your friend, Mr. Royle, I perhaps ought not to +tell you of the channels of information we are +trying," he added, with a dry laugh.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I assure you I'm entirely ignorant of his +whereabouts," I said. "If I knew, I should +certainly advise him to come and see you."</p> + +<p>"Ah! you believe in his innocence, I see?"</p> + +<p>"I most certainly do!"</p> + +<p>"Well,—we shall see—we shall see," he said in +that pessimistic tone which he so often adopted.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing about those letters—that +letter which mentions the fountain?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing. I've dismissed those as private +correspondence regarding some love episode of +the long ago," he replied. "They form no clue, +and are not worth following."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + +<p>At that moment the constable re-entered bearing +the photographs.</p> + +<p>"Well, what does Inspector Tirrell say?" +Edwards asked quickly of the man.</p> + +<p>"He has examined them under the glass, sir, and +says that they are the same prints in both sets +of photographs—the thumb and index-finger of a +woman—probably a young and refined woman. +He's written a memo there, sir."</p> + +<p>Edwards took it quickly, and after glancing at +it, handed it to me to read.</p> + +<p>It was a mere scribbled line signed with the +initials "W. H. T.," to the effect that the same +prints appeared in both photographs, and concluded +with the words "No record of this person is known +in this department."</p> + +<p>I know I stood pale and breathless at the revelation—at +the incontestable proof that my well-beloved +had actually been present in Digby's room +after my departure on that fatal night.</p> + +<p>Why?</p> + +<p>By dint of a great effort I succeeded in suppressing +the flood of emotions which so nearly overcame me, +and listened to Edwards as he remarked:</p> + +<p>"Well, after all, Mr. Royle, it doesn't carry us +any further. Our one object is to discover the +identity of the woman in question, and I think we +can only do that from your absconding friend himself. +If the marks are upon your despatch-box as +you state, then the evidence it furnishes rather +disproves the theory that the unknown woman +was actually present at the time of the tragedy."</p> + +<p>I hardly know what words I uttered.</p> + +<p>I had successfully misled the great detective of +crime, but as I rode along in the taxi back to my +rooms, I was in a frenzy of despair, for I had proved<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +beyond a shadow of doubt that Phrida was aware +of what had occurred—that a black shadow of guilt +lay upon her.</p> + +<p>The woman I had loved and trusted, she who was +all the world to me, had deceived me, though she +smiled upon me so sweetly. She, alas! held within +her breast a guilty secret.</p> + +<p>Ah! in that hour of my bitterness and distress +the sun of my life became eclipsed. Only before +me was outspread a limitless grey sea of dark +despair.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>DESCRIBES THE YELLOW SIGN.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">The</span> night of my mysterious tryst—the night of +January the fourteenth—was dark, rainy, and +unpleasant.</p> + +<p>That afternoon I had taken out the sealed letter +addressed to "E. P. K." and turned it over thoughtfully +in my hand.</p> + +<p>I recollected the words of the fugitive. He had +said:</p> + +<p>"On the night of the fourteenth just at eight +o'clock precisely, go to the Piccadilly Tube Station +and stand at the first telephone box numbered four, +on the Haymarket side, when a lady in black will +approach you and ask news of me. In response you +will give her this note. But there is a further +condition. You may be watched and recognised. +Therefore, be extremely careful that you are not +followed on that day, and, above all, adopt some +effective disguise. Go there dressed as a working +man, I would suggest."</p> + +<p>Very strange was that request of his. It filled +me with eager curiosity. What should I learn +from the mysterious woman in black who was to +come to me for a message from my fugitive friend.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<p>Had he already contemplated flight when he had +addressed the note to her and made the appointment, +I wondered.</p> + +<p>If so, the crime at Harrington Gardens must have +been premeditated.</p> + +<p>I recollected, too, those strange, prophetic +words which my friend had afterwards uttered, +namely:</p> + +<p>"I want you to give me your promise, Royle. +I ask you to make a solemn vow to me that if +any suspicion arises within your mind, that you +will believe nothing without absolute and +decisive proof. I mean, that you will not misjudge +her."</p> + +<p>By "her" he had indicated the lady whose initials +were "E. P. K."</p> + +<p>It was certainly mysterious, and my whole mind +was centred upon the affair that day.</p> + +<p>As I stood before my glass at seven o'clock that +evening, I presented a strange, uncanny figure, +dressed as I was in a shabby suit which I had +obtained during the day from a theatrical costumier's +in Covent Garden.</p> + +<p>Haines, to whom I had invented a story that I was +about to play a practical joke, stood by much +amused at my appearance.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," he exclaimed; "you look just like +a bricklayer's labourer!"</p> + +<p>The faded suit, frayed at the wrists and elbows, +had once been grey, but it was now patched, brown, +smeared with plaster, and ingrained with white +dust, as was the ragged cap; while the trousers +were ragged at the knees and bottoms. Around +my neck was a dirty white scarf and in my hand +I carried a tin tea-bottle as though I had just +returned from work.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," I remarked, regarding myself critically. +"Not even Miss Shand would recognise me—eh, +Haines?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir. I'm sure she wouldn't. But you'll +have to dirty your face and hands a bit. Your +hands will give you away if you're not careful."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I can't wear gloves, can I?" I remarked.</p> + +<p>Thereupon, I went to the grate and succeeded +in rubbing ashes over my hands and applying some +of it to my cheeks—hardly a pleasant face powder, +I can assure you.</p> + +<p>At a quarter to eight, with the precious letter +in the pocket of my ragged jacket, I left Albemarle +Street and sauntered along Piccadilly towards +the Circus. The rain had ceased, but it was wet underfoot, +and the motor buses plashed foot passengers +from head to foot with liquid mud. In my +walk I passed, outside the Piccadilly Hotel, two +men I knew. One of them looked me straight in +the face but failed to recognise me.</p> + +<p>Piccadilly Circus, the centre of the night-life of +London, is unique, with its jostling crowds on +pleasure bent, its congestion of traffic, its myriad +lights, its flashing, illuminated signs, and the bright +façade of the Criterion on the one side and the +Pavilion on the other. Surely one sees the lure of +London there more than at any other spot in the +whole of our great metropolis.</p> + +<p>Passing the Criterion and turning into the Haymarket, +I halted for a moment on the kerb, and for +the first time in my life, perhaps, gazed philosophically +upon the frantic, hurrying panorama of human +life passing before my eyes.</p> + +<p>From where I stood I could see into the well-lit +station entrance with the row to the telephone boxes, +at the end of which sat the smart young operator,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +who was getting numbers and collecting fees. All +the boxes were engaged, and several persons were +waiting, but in vain my eyes searched for a lady +in black wearing mimosa.</p> + +<p>The winter wind was bitterly cold, and as I was +without an overcoat it cut through my thin, shabby +clothes, causing me to shiver. Nevertheless, I +kept my watchful vigil. By a neighbouring clock I +could see that it was already five minutes past the +hour of the appointment. Still, I waited in eager +expectation of her coming.</p> + +<p>The only other person who seemed to loiter +there was a thin, shivering Oriental, who +bore some rugs upon his shoulder—a hawker of +shawls.</p> + +<p>Past me there went men and women of every +grade and every station. Boys were crying "Extrur +spe-shull," and evil-looking loafers, those foreign +scoundrels who infest the West End, lurked about, +sometimes casting a suspicious glance at me, +with the thought, perhaps, that I might be a +detective.</p> + +<p>Ah! the phantasmagora of life outside the Piccadilly +Tube at eight o'clock in the evening is indeed +a strangely complex one. The world of London +has then ceased to work and has given itself over to +pleasure, and, alas! in so many cases, to evil.</p> + +<p>In patience I waited. The moments seemed +hours, for in my suspense I was dubious whether, +after all, she would appear. Perhaps she already +knew, by some secret means, of Sir Digby's +flight, and if so, she would not keep the appointment.</p> + +<p>I strolled up and down the pavement, for a +policeman, noticing me hanging about, had gruffly +ordered me to "Move on!" He, perhaps, suspected<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +me of "loitering for the purpose of committing a +felony."</p> + +<p>Everywhere my eager eyes searched to catch +sight of some person in black wearing a spray +of yellow blossom, but among that hurrying +crowd there was not one woman, young or +old, wearing that flower so reminiscent of the +Riviera.</p> + +<p>I entered the station, and for some moments stood +outside the telephone box numbered 4. Then, +with failing heart, I turned and went along to +the spacious booking-hall, where the lifts +were ever descending with their crowds of +passengers.</p> + +<p>Would she ever come? Or, was my carefully +planned errand entirely in vain?</p> + +<p>I could not have mistaken the date, for I had +made a note of it in my diary directly on my return +from Harrington Gardens, and before I had learned +of the tragedy. No. It now wanted a quarter to +nine and she had not appeared. At nine I would +relinquish my vigil, and assume my normal identity. +I was sick to death of lounging there in the cutting +east wind with the smoke-blackened tin bottle in +my hand.</p> + +<p>I had been idly reading an advertisement on the +wall, and turned, when my quick eyes suddenly +caught sight of a tall, well-dressed woman of middle +age, who, standing with her back to me, was speaking +to the telephone-operator.</p> + +<p>I hurried eagerly past her, when my heart gave +a great bound. In the corsage of her fur-trimmed +coat she wore the sign for which I had been searching +for an hour—a sprig of mimosa!</p> + +<p>With my heart beating quickly in wild excitement, +I drew back to watch her movements.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<p>She had asked the operator for a number, paid +him, and was told that she was "on" at box +No. 4.</p> + +<p>I saw her enter, and watched her through the glass +door speaking vehemently with some gesticulation. +The answer she received over the wire seemed to +cause her the greatest surprise, for I saw how her +dark, handsome face fell when she heard the +response.</p> + +<p>In a second her manner changed. From a bold, +commanding attitude she at once became apprehensive +and appealing. Though I could not hear +the words amid all that hubbub and noise, I knew +that she was begging the person at the other end +to tell her something, but was being met with a +flat refusal.</p> + +<p>I saw how the black-gloved hand, resting upon the +little ledge, clenched itself tightly as she listened. +I fancied that tears had come into her big, +dark eyes, but perhaps it was only my imagination.</p> + +<p>At last she put down the receiver and emerged +from the box, with a strange look of despair upon +her handsome countenance.</p> + +<p>What, I wondered, had happened?</p> + +<p>She halted outside the box for a moment, gazing +about her as though in expectation of meeting +someone. She saw me, but seeing only a labourer, +took no heed of my presence. Then she glanced at +the tiny gold watch in her bracelet, and noting that +it was just upon nine, drew a long breath—a sigh +as though of despair.</p> + +<p>I waited until she slowly walked out towards +the street, and following, came up beside her and +said in a low voice:</p> + +<p>"I wonder, madame, if you are looking for me?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> + +<p>She glanced at me quickly, with distinct suspicion, +and noting my dress, regarded me with some +disdain.</p> + +<p>Her dark brows were knit for a second in distinct +displeasure, even of apprehension, and then in +an instant I recollected my friend's injunction +that I might be watched and followed. In giving +her the message the greatest secrecy was to be +observed.</p> + +<p>She halted, as though in hesitation, took from her +bag a tiny lace handkerchief and dabbed her face, +then beneath her breath, and without glancing +further at me, said:</p> + +<p>"Follow me, and I will speak to you presently—when +there is no danger."</p> + +<p>Upon that I moved away and leisurely lit my +pipe, as though entirely unconcerned, while she +still stood in the doorway leading to the Haymarket, +looking up and down as though awaiting +somebody.</p> + +<p>Yes, she was a distinctly handsome woman; +tall, erect, and well preserved. Her gown fitted +her perfectly, and her black jacket, trimmed with +some rich dark fur, was a garment which gave her +the stamp of a woman of wealth and refinement. +She wore a neat felt hat also trimmed with fur, white +gloves, and smart shoes, extremely small, even +girlish, for a woman so well developed.</p> + +<p>Presently she sauntered forth down the Haymarket, +and a few moments afterwards, still +smoking and carrying my bottle, I lounged lazily +after her.</p> + +<p>At the corner, by the Carlton, she turned into +Pall Mall, continuing along that thoroughfare +without once looking back. Opposite the United +Service Club she crossed the road, and passing across<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +the square in front of the Athenæum, descended the +long flight of steps which led into the Mall.</p> + +<p>There in the darkness, beneath the trees, where +there were no onlookers—for at that hour the Mall +is practically deserted, save for a few loving couples +and a stray taxi or two—she suddenly paused, and +I quickly approached and raised my cap politely.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she asked sharply, almost in a tone +of annoyance. "What is it? What do you want +with me, my man?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>CHERCHEZ LA FEMME.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">I confess</span> that her attitude took me aback.</p> + +<p>I was certainly unprepared for such a reception.</p> + +<p>"I believed, madame, that you were in search of +me?" I said, with polite apology.</p> + +<p>"I certainly was not. I don't know you in the +least," was her reply. "I went to the Tube to meet +a friend who did not keep his appointment. Is +it possible that you have been sent by him? In +any case, it was very injudicious for you to approach +me in that crowd. One never knows who might +have been watching."</p> + +<p>"I come as messenger from my friend, Sir Digby +Kemsley," I said in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"From him?" she gasped eagerly. "I—ah! +I expected him. Is he prevented from coming? +It was so very important, so highly essential, that +we should meet," she added in frantic anxiety +as we stood there in the darkness beneath the +bare trees, through the branches of which the wind +whistled weirdly.</p> + +<p>"I have this letter," I said, drawing it from +my pocket. "It is addressed 'For E. P. K.'"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> + +<p>"For me?" she cried with eagerness, as she took it +in her gloved hand, and then leaving my side she +hurried to a street lamp, where she tore it open and +read the contents.</p> + +<p>From where I stood I heard her utter an ejaculation +of sudden terror. I saw how she crushed +the paper in one hand while with the other she +pressed her brow. Whatever the letter contained +it was news which caused her the greatest apprehension +and fear, for dashing back to me she +asked:</p> + +<p>"When did he give you this? How long +ago?"</p> + +<p>"On the night of January the sixth," was +my reply. "The night when he left Harrington +Gardens in mysterious circumstances."</p> + +<p>"Mysterious circumstances!" she echoed. +"What do you mean? Is he no longer there?"</p> + +<p>"No, madame. He has left, and though I am, +perhaps, his most intimate friend, I am unaware +of his whereabouts. There were," I added, "reasons, +I fear, for his disappearance."</p> + +<p>"Who are you? Tell me, first."</p> + +<p>"My name is Edward Royle," was my brief +response.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Mr. Royle," the woman cried, "he +has spoken of you many times. You were his best +friend, he said. I am glad, indeed, to meet you, +but—but tell me why he has disappeared—what has +occurred?"</p> + +<p>"I thought you would probably know that +my friend is wanted by the police," I replied gravely. +"His description has been circulated everywhere."</p> + +<p>"But why?" she gasped, staring at me. "Why +are the police in search of him?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> + +<p>For a few seconds I hesitated, disinclined to +repeat the grave charge against him.</p> + +<p>"Well," I said at last in a low, earnest voice, +"the fact is the police have discovered that +Sir Digby Kemsley died in South America some +months ago."</p> + +<p>"I don't follow you," she said.</p> + +<p>"Then I will be more plain. The police, having +had a report of the death of Sir Digby, believe our +mutual friend to be an impostor!"</p> + +<p>"An impostor! How utterly ridiculous. Why, +I myself can prove his identity. The dead man +must have been some adventurer who used his +name."</p> + +<p>"That is a point which I hope with your assistance +to prove," I said. "The police at present +regard our friend with distinct suspicion."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose his worst enemy has made +some serious allegation against him—that woman +who hates him so. Ah! I see it all now. I see +why he has written this to me—this confession +which astounds me. Ah! Mr. Royle," she added, +her gloved hands tightly clenched in her despair. +"You do not know in what deadly peril Sir Digby +now is. Yes, I see it plainly. There is a charge +against him—a grave and terrible charge—which +he is unable to refute, and yet he is perfectly +innocent. Oh, what can I do? How can I act +to save him?" and her voice became broken by +emotion.</p> + +<p>"First tell me the name of this woman who was +such a deadly enemy of his. If you reveal this to me, +I may be able to throw some light upon circumstances +which are at the present moment a complete +mystery."</p> + +<p>"No, that is his secret," was her low, calm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +reply. "He made me swear never to reveal the +woman's name."</p> + +<p>"But his honour—nay, his liberty—is now at +stake," I urged.</p> + +<p>"That does not exonerate me from breaking my +word of honour, Mr. Royle."</p> + +<p>"Then he probably entertains affection for the +woman, and is hence loth to do anything which +might cause her pain. Strangely enough, men often +love women whom they know are their bitterest +enemies."</p> + +<p>"Quite so. But the present case is full of strange +and romantic facts—facts, which if written down, +would never be believed. I know many of them +myself, and can vouch for them."</p> + +<p>"Well, is this unnamed woman a very vengeful +person?" I asked, remembering the victim who +had been found dead at Harrington Gardens.</p> + +<p>"Probably so. All women, when they hate +a man, are vengeful."</p> + +<p>"Why did she hate him so?"</p> + +<p>"Because she believed a story told of him—an +entirely false story—of how he had treated +the man she loved. I taxed him with it, and he +denied it, and brought me conclusive proof that +the allegation was a pure invention."</p> + +<p>"Is she young or middle-aged?"</p> + +<p>"Young, and distinctly pretty," was her reply.</p> + +<p>Was it possible that this woman was speaking of +that girl whom I had seen lying dead in my friend's +flat? Had he killed her because he feared what +she might reveal? How dearly I wished that +I had with me at that moment a copy of +the police photographs of the unidentified +body.</p> + +<p>But even then she would probably declare it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +not to be the same person, so deeply had Sir Digby +impressed upon her the necessity of regarding the +affair as strictly secret.</p> + +<p>Indeed, as I walked slowly at her side, I saw that, +whatever the note contained, it certainly had +the effect upon her of preserving her silence.</p> + +<p>In that case, could the crime have been premeditated +by my friend? Had he written her +that secret message well knowing that he intended +to kill the mysterious woman who was his deadliest +enemy.</p> + +<p>That theory flashed across my brain as I walked +with her, and I believed it to be the correct one. +I accepted it the more readily because it removed +from my mind those dark suspicions concerning +Phrida, and, also, in face of facts which this +unknown lady had dropped, it seemed to be +entirely feasible.</p> + +<p>Either the unsuspecting woman fell by the hand +of Digby Kemsley or—how can I pen the words—by +the hand of Phrida, the woman I loved. There +was the evidence that a knife with a triangular +blade had been used, and such a knife had been, +and was still, in the possession of my well-beloved; +but from what I had learned that night it seemed +that, little as I had dreamed the truth, my friend +Digby had been held in bondage by a woman, whose +tongue he feared.</p> + +<p>Ah! How very many men in London are the +slaves of women whom they fear. All of us are +human, and the woman with evil heart is, alas! +only too ready to seize the opportunity of the frailty +of the opposite sex, and whatever may be the +secret she learns, of business or of private +life, she will most certainly turn it to her +advantage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was similar circumstances I feared in the +case of dear old Digby.</p> + +<p>I was wondering, as I walked, whether I should +reveal to my companion—whose name she had +told me was Mrs. Petre—the whole of the tragic +circumstances.</p> + +<p>"Is it long ago since you last saw Digby?" +I asked her presently, as we strolled slowly together, +and after I had given her my address, and we +had laughed together over my effective +disguise.</p> + +<p>"Nearly two months," she replied. "I've been +in Egypt since the beginning of November—at +Assuan."</p> + +<p>"I was there two seasons ago," I said. "How +delightful it is in Upper Egypt—and what a climate +in winter! Why, it is said that it has never rained +there for thirty years!"</p> + +<p>"I had a most awfully jolly time at the Cataract. +It was full of smart people, for only the suburbs, +the demi-monde, and Germans go to the Riviera +nowadays. It's so terribly played out, and the +Carnival gaiety is so childish and artificial."</p> + +<p>"It amuses the Cookites," I laughed; "and it +puts money in the pockets of the hotel-keepers of +Nice and the neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>"Monte is no longer <i>chic</i>," she declared. "German +women in blouses predominate; and the really +smart world has forsaken the Rooms for Cairo, +Heliopolis, and Assuan. They are too far off +and too expensive for the bearer of Cook's +coupons."</p> + +<p>I laughed. She spoke with the nonchalant air +of the smart woman of the world, evidently much +travelled and cosmopolitan.</p> + +<p>But I again turned the conversation to our mutual<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +friend, and strove with all the diplomatic powers +I possessed to induce her to reveal the name or +give me a description of the woman whom she +had alleged to be his enemy—the woman who was +under a delusion that he had wronged her lover. +To all my questions, however, she remained +dumb. That letter which I had placed in her +hand had, no doubt, put a seal of silence upon +her lips.</p> + +<p>At one moment she assumed a haughtiness of +demeanour which suited her manner and bearing, +at the next she became sympathetic and eager. +She was, I gauged, a woman of strangely complex +character. Yet whom could she be? I knew most, +perhaps even all, of Digby's friends, I believed. He +often used to give cosy little tea parties, to which +women—many of them well known in society—came. +Towards them he always assumed quite +a paternal attitude, for he was nothing if not a +ladies' man.</p> + +<p>She seemed very anxious to know in what +circumstances he had handed me the note, and +what instructions he had given me. To her +questions I replied quite frankly. Indeed, I +repeated his words.</p> + +<p>"Ah! yes," she cried. "He urged you not +to misjudge me. Then you will not, Mr. +Royle—will you?" she asked me with sudden +earnestness.</p> + +<p>"I have no reason to misjudge you, Mrs. Petre," +I said, quietly. "Why should I?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! but you may. Indeed, you most certainly +will."</p> + +<p>"When?" I asked, in some surprise.</p> + +<p>"When—when you know the bitter truth."</p> + +<p>"The truth of what?" I gasped, my thoughts<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +reverting to the tragedy in Harrington Gardens. +Though I had not referred to it I felt that she must +be aware of what had occurred, and of the real +reason of Digby's flight.</p> + +<p>"The truth which you must know ere long," +she answered hoarsely as we halted again beneath +the leafless trees. "And when you learn it you +will most certainly condemn me. But believe me, +Mr. Royle, I am like your friend, Sir Digby, more +sinned against than sinning."</p> + +<p>"You speak in enigmas," I said.</p> + +<p>"Because I cannot—I dare not tell you what +I know. I dare not reveal the terrible and +astounding secret entrusted to me. You will know +it all soon enough. But—there," she added in +a voice broken in despair, "what can matter +now that Digby has shown the white feather—and +fled."</p> + +<p>"He was not a coward, Mrs. Petre," I remarked +very calmly.</p> + +<p>"No. He was a brave and honest man +until——" and she paused, her low voice fading +to a whisper that I did not catch.</p> + +<p>"Until what?" I asked. "Did something +happen?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it did," she replied in a hard, dry tone. +"Something happened which changed his +life."</p> + +<p>"Then he is not the impostor the police believe?" +I demanded.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," was her prompt reply. "Why +he has thought fit to disappear fills me with anger. +And yet—yet from this letter he has sent to me +I can now see the reason. He was, no doubt, compelled +to fly, poor fellow. His enemy forced him +to do so."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The woman—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, the woman," she admitted, bitter hatred +in her voice.</p> + +<p>Then, after a pause, I said: "If I can be of +any service to you, Mrs. Petre, for we are both +friends of Digby's, I trust you will not fail to +command me."</p> + +<p>And I handed her a card from my case, which +I had carried expressly.</p> + +<p>"You are very kind, Mr. Royle," she replied. +"Perhaps I may be very glad of your services +one day. Who knows? I live at Park Mansions."</p> + +<p>"And may I call?"</p> + +<p>"For the present, no. I let my flat while I went +abroad, and it is still occupied for several weeks. +I shall not be there before the first week in +March."</p> + +<p>"But I want to find Digby—I want to see him +most urgently," I said.</p> + +<p>"And so do I!"</p> + +<p>"How can we trace him?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I am afraid he is far too elusive. If he +wishes to hide himself we need not hope to find +him until he allows us to," she replied. "No, all +we can do is to remain patient and hopeful."</p> + +<p>Again a silence fell between us. I felt instinctively +that she wished to confide in me, but dare +not do so.</p> + +<p>Therefore I exclaimed suddenly:</p> + +<p>"Will you not tell me, Mrs. Petre, the identity of +this great enemy of our friend—this woman? +Upon information which you yourself may give, +Digby's future entirely depends," I added +earnestly.</p> + +<p>"His future!" she echoed. "What do you +mean?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I mean only that I am trying to clear his good +name of the stigma now resting upon it."</p> + +<p>The handsome woman bit her lip.</p> + +<p>"No," she replied with a great effort. "I'm +sorry—deeply sorry—but I am now in a most +embarrassing position. I have made a vow to him, +and that vow I cannot break without first obtaining +his permission. I am upon my honour."</p> + +<p>I was silent. What could I say?</p> + +<p>This woman certainly knew something—something +which, if revealed, would place me in possession +of the truth of what had actually occurred +at Harrington Gardens on that fatal night. If +she spoke she might clear Phrida of all +suspicion.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, after a pause, I made up my mind +to try and clear up one point—that serious, crucial +point which had for days so obsessed me.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Petre," I said, "I wonder if you will +answer me a single question, one which does not +really affect the situation much. Indeed, as we are, +I hope, friends, I ask it more out of curiosity than +anything else."</p> + +<p>"Well, what is it?" she asked, regarding me +strangely.</p> + +<p>"I want to know whether, being a friend of +Digby's, you have ever met or ever heard of a +certain young lady living in Kensington named +Phrida Shand."</p> + +<p>The effect of my words was almost electrical. +She sprung towards me, with fire in her big, +dark eyes.</p> + +<p>"Phrida Shand!" she cried wildly, her white-gloved +hands again clenched. "Phrida Shand! +You know that woman, eh? You know her, Mr. +Royle. Is she a friend of yours?—or—or is she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +your enemy? Your friend, perhaps, because she +is pretty. Oh, yes!" she laughed, hysterically. +"Oh, yes! Of course, she is your friend. If she +is—then curse her, Mr. Royle—invoke all the curses +of hell upon her, as she so richly deserves!"</p> + +<p>And from her lips came a peal of laughter that +was little short of demoniacal, while I stood glaring +at her in blank dismay.</p> + +<p>What did she mean? Aye, what, indeed?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>IN WHICH AN ALLEGATION IS MADE.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">I stood</span> aghast at her words.</p> + +<p>I strove to induce her to speak more openly, +and to tell me why I should not regard Phrida +as my friend.</p> + +<p>But she only laughed mysteriously, saying:</p> + +<p>"Wait, and you will see."</p> + +<p>"You make a distinct charge against her, therefore +I think you ought to substantiate it," I said +in a tone of distinct annoyance.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Mr. Royle. Heed my words, I beg of +you."</p> + +<p>"But, tell me, is Miss Shand the same person +as you have denounced as Digby's enemy?" I +asked in breathless apprehension. "Surely you +will tell me, Mrs. Petre, now that we are +friends."</p> + +<p>"Ah! but are we friends?" she asked, looking +at me strangely beneath the light of the street-lamp +in that deserted thoroughfare, where all +was silence save the distant hum of the traffic. +The dark trees above stood out distinct against +the dull red night-glare of London, as the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +mysterious woman stood before me uttering that +query.</p> + +<p>"Because we are mutual friends of Sir Digby's. +I hope I may call you a friend," I replied, as calmly +as I was able.</p> + +<p>She paused for a moment in indecision. Then +she said:</p> + +<p>"You admit that you are friendly with the girl +Shand—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"More than friendly, I wonder?" she asked in +a sharp tone.</p> + +<p>"Well—I'll be perfectly frank," was my answer. +"I am engaged to be married to her."</p> + +<p>"Married," she gasped, "to her! Are you mad, +Mr. Royle?"</p> + +<p>"I think not," I answered, greatly surprised at her +sudden attitude. "Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because—because," she replied in a low, +earnest voice, scarce above a whisper, "because, +before you take such a step make further +inquiry."</p> + +<p>"Inquiry about what?" I demanded.</p> + +<p>"About—well, about what has occurred at +Harrington Gardens."</p> + +<p>"Then you know!" I cried. "You know the +truth, Mrs. Petre?"</p> + +<p>"No," she replied quite calmly. "I know +from this letter what must have occurred there. +But who killed the girl I cannot say."</p> + +<p>"Who was the girl they found dead?" I asked +breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"Ah! How can I tell? I did not see +her."</p> + +<p>In a few quick words I described the deceased, +but either she did not recognise her from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +description, or she refused to tell me. In any case, +she declared herself in ignorance.</p> + +<p>The situation was galling and tantalising. I +was so near discovering the truth, and yet my +inquiries had only plunged me more deeply into +a quagmire of suspicion and horror. The more I +tried to extricate myself the deeper I sank.</p> + +<p>"But whoever the poor girl may have been, +you still maintain that Phrida Shand was Digby's +most deadly enemy?" I asked quickly, setting a +trap for her.</p> + +<p>I took her unawares, and she fell into it.</p> + +<p>"Yes," was her prompt response. An instant +later, however, realising how she had been led to +make an allegation which she had not intended, +she hastened to correct herself, saying: "Ah, no! +Of course, I do not allege that. I—I only +know that Digby was acquainted with her, and +that——"</p> + +<p>"Well?" I asked slowly, when she +paused.</p> + +<p>"That—that he regretted the acquaintanceship."</p> + +<p>"Regretted? Why?"</p> + +<p>The woman shrugged her shoulders. All along +she had been cognisant of the tragedy, yet with +her innate cleverness she had not admitted her +knowledge.</p> + +<p>"A man often regrets his friendship with a +woman," she said, with a mysterious air.</p> + +<p>"What!" I cried fiercely. "Do you make +an insinuation that——"</p> + +<p>"My dear Mr. Royle," she laughed, "I make +no insinuation. It was you who have endeavoured +to compel me to condemn her as Digby's enemy. +You yourself suggested it!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But you have told me that his fiercest and +most bitter enemy was a woman!"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. But I have not told you that +woman's name, nor do I intend to break my vow +of secrecy to Digby—fugitive that he may be at +this moment. Yet, depend upon it, he will return +and crush his enemies in the dust."</p> + +<p>"I hope he will," was my fervent reply. "Yet +I love Phrida Shand, and upon her there rests a +terrible cloud of suspicion."</p> + +<p>She was silent for a moment, still standing +beneath the lamp, gazing at me with those big, +dark eyes.</p> + +<p>At last she said:</p> + +<p>"The way out is quite easy."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"If you have any regard for your future put +your love aside," was her hard response.</p> + +<p>"You hate her!" I said, knitting my brows, yet +recollecting the proof I had secured of her presence +in Digby's flat.</p> + +<p>"Yes," was her prompt response. "I hate her—I +have cause to hate her!"</p> + +<p>"What cause?"</p> + +<p>"That is my own affair, Mr. Royle—my own +secret. Find Digby, and he will, no doubt, tell +you the truth."</p> + +<p>"The truth concerning Phrida?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"But he knew I was engaged to her! Why +did he not speak?"</p> + +<p>"And expose her secret?" she asked. +"Would he have acted as a gentleman had he +done so? Does a man so lightly betray a woman's +honour?"</p> + +<p>"A woman's honour!" I gasped, staring at her,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +staggered as though she had struck me a blow. +"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean nothing," was her cold reply. "Take +it as you may, Mr. Royle, only be warned."</p> + +<p>"But if Digby knew that she was worthless, +he would surely have made some remark to arouse +my suspicion?" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Why should he?" she queried. "A true +gentleman does not usually expose a woman's +secret."</p> + +<p>I saw her point, and my heart sank within me. +Were these scandalous allegations of hers based +upon truth, or was she actuated by ill-feeling, +perhaps, indeed, of jealousy?</p> + +<p>We walked on again slowly until we reached St. +James's Palace, and passed out into the end of +Pall Mall, where it joined St. James's Street. Yet +her attitude was one of complete mystery. I was +uncertain whether the admission she had so +unconsciously made regarding Phrida—that she +was Digby's worst enemy—was the actual truth +or not.</p> + +<p>One thing was plain. This Mrs. Petre was a +clever, far-seeing woman of the world, who had +with great ingenuity held from me her knowledge of +the crime.</p> + +<p>A problem was, therefore, presented to me. By +what means could she be aware of it? First, she +had expected to meet Digby that evening; +secondly, the letter I had brought was +written before the assassination of the unknown +girl.</p> + +<p>How could she have obtained knowledge of +the affair if it were not premeditated and +hinted at in the letter I had so faithfully +delivered?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p> + +<p>Half way up St. James's Street my companion +suddenly exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"I must be going! Would you please hail me +a taxi, Mr. Royle?"</p> + +<p>"I will—when you have answered my question," +I said, with great politeness.</p> + +<p>"I have already replied to it," was her response. +"You love Phrida Shand, but if you have any +self-respect, any regard for your future, break off +Whatever infatuation she has exercised over you. +If you are Digby's friend, you will be a man, and +act as such!"</p> + +<p>"I really don't follow you," I said, bewildered.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not. But surely my words are plain +enough!"</p> + +<p>"Is she the enemy of Digby, of whom you +have spoken?"</p> + +<p>"That question I am not permitted to answer."</p> + +<p>I was silent a few seconds. Then I asked +earnestly:</p> + +<p>"Tell me openly and frankly, Mrs. Petre. Is +she the person you suspect of having committed +the crime?"</p> + +<p>She gave vent to a short dry laugh.</p> + +<p>"Really, Mr. Royle," she exclaimed, "you +put to me the most difficult riddles. How can I +possibly suspect anyone of a crime of which I know +nothing, and of which even the papers appear +to be in ignorance?"</p> + +<p>"But you are not in ignorance," I said. "How, +pray, did you learn that a tragedy had +occurred?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she laughed. "That is my secret. +You were very careful not to tell me the true cause +of poor Digby's flight. Yes, Mr. Royle, I congratulate +you upon your ingenuity in protecting the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +honour of your friend. Rest assured he will not +forget the great services you have already rendered +him."</p> + +<p>"I look for no reward. He was my friend," +was my reply.</p> + +<p>"Then, if he was your friend and you are +still his, heed my warning concerning Phrida +Shand."</p> + +<p>"But tell me what you know?" I cried, clutching +her arm as we walked together. "You don't understand +that you are making allegations—terrible +allegations—against the woman I love dearest in +all the world. You have made an assertion, and +I demand that you shall substantiate it," I added in +frantic anxiety.</p> + +<p>She shook off my hand angrily, declaring that +nothing more need be said, and adding that if I +refused to heed her, then the peril would be +mine.</p> + +<p>"But you shall not leave me until you have +furnished me with proof of these perfidious actions +of my love!" I declared vehemently.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Royle, we really cannot use high words +in the public street," she replied in a low tone of +reproof. "I am sorry that I am not permitted +to say more."</p> + +<p>"But you shall!" I persisted. "Tell me—what +do you know? Is Digby the real Sir Digby?"</p> + +<p>"Of course he is!"</p> + +<p>"And what are his exact relations with +Phrida?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she laughed. "You had better ask +her yourself, Mr. Royle. She will, no doubt, tell you. +Of course, she will—well, if you are to marry her. +But there, I see that you are not quite responsible +for your words this evening. It is, perhaps,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +natural in the circumstances; therefore I will forgive +you."</p> + +<p>"Natural!" I echoed. "I should think it is +natural that I should resent such dastardly +allegations when made against the woman I +love."</p> + +<p>"All I repeat is—go and ask her for yourself," +was the woman's quiet response as she drew herself +up, and pulled her fur more closely about her +throat. "I really can't be seen here talking with +you in that garb," she added.</p> + +<p>"But you must tell me," I persisted.</p> + +<p>"I can tell you no more than I have done. The +girl you love will tell you everything, or—at least, +if you have a grain of ingenuity, as you no +doubt have—you will find out everything for +yourself."</p> + +<p>"Ah! but——"</p> + +<p>"No, not another word, please, Mr. Royle—not +to-night. If after making inquiry into the +matter you care to come and see me when I am back +in Park Mansions, I shall be very happy to receive +you. By that time, however, I hope we shall have +had news of poor Digby's whereabouts."</p> + +<p>"If I hear from him—as I expect to—how can I +communicate with you?" I asked.</p> + +<p>For a few seconds she stood wondering.</p> + +<p>"Write to me to Park Mansions," she replied. +"My letters are always forwarded."</p> + +<p>And raising her umbrella she herself hailed a +passing taxi.</p> + +<p>"Remember my warning," were her final words +as she gave the man an address in Regent's Park, +and entered the conveyance. "Go and see Phrida +Shand at once and tell her what I have said."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> + +<p>"May I mention your name?" I asked hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied. "Good-night."</p> + +<p>And a moment later I was gazing at the red back-lamp +of the taxi, while soon afterwards I again +caught a glimpse of the same lonely seller of shawls +whom I had seen at the Tube station, trudging +wearily homeward, there being no business doing +at that hour of the evening.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>PHRIDA MAKES CONFESSION.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">I sat</span> in my rooms in Albemarle Street utterly +bewildered.</p> + +<p>My meeting with the mysterious woman who wore +the spray of mimosa had, instead of assisting to +clear up the mystery, increased it a hundredfold.</p> + +<p>The grave suspicions I had entertained of Phrida +had been corroborated by her strangely direct insinuations +and her suggestion that I should go to +her and tell her plainly what had been alleged.</p> + +<p>Therefore, after a sleepless night, I went to +Cromwell Road next morning, determined to know +the truth. You can well imagine my state of +mind when I entered Mrs. Shand's pretty morning-room, +where great bowls of daffodils lent colour +to the otherwise rather dull apartment.</p> + +<p>Phrida entered, gay, fresh, and charming, in a +dark skirt and white blouse, having just risen +from breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Really, Teddy," she laughed, "you ought to +be awarded a prize for early rising. I fear I'm +horribly late. It's ten o'clock. But mother and I +went last night to the Aldwych, and afterwards<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +with the Baileys to supper at the Savoy. So I may +be forgiven, may I not—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, dear," I replied, placing my hand +upon her shoulder. "What are you doing to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! I'm quite full up with engagements," she +replied, crossing to the writing-table and consulting a +porcelain writing tablet.</p> + +<p>"I'm due at my dressmaker's at half-past eleven, +then I've to call in Mount Street at half-past twelve, +lunch at the Berkeley, where mother has two women +to lunch with her, and a concert at Queen's Hall +at three—quite a day, isn't it?" she laughed.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said. "You are very busy—too busy +even to talk seriously with me—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Talk seriously!" she echoed, looking me +straight in the face. "What do you mean, Teddy? +Why, what's the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! nothing very much, dearest," was my +reply, for I was striving to remain calm, not withstanding +my great anxiety and tortured mind.</p> + +<p>"But there is," she persisted, clutching at my +hand and looking eagerly into my face. "What is +amiss? Tell me," she added, in low earnestness.</p> + +<p>I was silent for a moment, and leaving her I +crossed to the window and gazed out into the broad, +grey thoroughfare, grim and dispiriting on that +chilly January morning.</p> + +<p>For a moment I held my breath, then, with +sudden determination, I walked back to where she +was standing, and placing both hands upon her +shoulders, kissed her passionately upon the lips.</p> + +<p>"You are upset to-day, Teddy," she said, +with deep concern. "What has happened? Tell +me, dear."</p> + +<p>"I—I hardly know what's happened," I replied<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +in a low voice. "But, Phrida," I said, looking +straight into her great eyes, "I want to—to ask you +a question."</p> + +<p>"A question—what?" she demanded, her cheeks +paling slightly.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I want you to tell me what you know +of a Mrs. Petre, a——"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Petre!" she gasped, stepping back +from me, her face pale as death in an instant. +"That woman!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that woman, Phrida. Who is she—what +is she?"</p> + +<p>"Please don't ask me, Teddy," my love cried in +distress, covering her pretty face with her hands +and bursting suddenly into tears.</p> + +<p>"But I must, Phrida—I must, for my own peace +of mind," I said.</p> + +<p>"Why? Do you know the woman?"</p> + +<p>"I met her last night," I explained. "I delivered +to her a note which my friend Digby had +entrusted to me."</p> + +<p>"I thought your friend had disappeared?" she +said quickly.</p> + +<p>"It was given to me before his flight," was my +response. "I fulfilled a confidential mission with +which he entrusted me. And—and I met her. +She knows you—isn't that so?"</p> + +<p>I stood with my eyes full upon the white face +of the woman I loved, surveying her coldly and +critically, so full of black suspicion. Was my +heart at that moment wholly hers? In imagination, +place yourself, my reader, in a similar position. +Put before yourself the problem with which, at that +second, I found myself face to face.</p> + +<p>I loved Phrida, and yet had I not obtained proof +positive of her clandestine visit to my friend on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +that fateful night? Were her finger-prints not +upon the little glass-topped specimen-table in his +room?</p> + +<p>And yet so clever, so ingenious had she been, +so subtle was her woman's wit, that she had never +admitted to me any knowledge of him further than +a formal introduction I had once made long ago.</p> + +<p>I had trusted her—aye, trusted her with all the +open sincerity of an honourable man—for I loved +her better than anything else on earth. And with +what result?</p> + +<p>With my own senses of smell and of hearing I had +detected her presence on the stairs—waiting, it +seemed, to visit my friend in secret after I had +left.</p> + +<p>No doubt she had been unaware of my identity +as his visitor, or she would never dared to have +lurked there.</p> + +<p>As I stood with my hand tenderly upon her arm, +the gaze of my well-beloved was directed to the +ground. Guilt seemed written upon her white +brow, for she dared not raise her eyes to mine.</p> + +<p>"Phrida, you know that woman—you can't +deny knowledge of her—can you?"</p> + +<p>She stood like a statue, with her hands clenched, +her mouth half open, her jaws fixed.</p> + +<p>"I—I—I don't know what you mean," she +faltered at last, in a hard voice quite unusual +to her.</p> + +<p>"I mean that I have a suspicion, Phrida—a +horrible suspicion—that you have deceived me," +I said.</p> + +<p>"How?" she asked, with her harsh, forced laugh.</p> + +<p>I paused. How should I tell her? How should +I begin?</p> + +<p>"You have suppressed from me certain knowledge<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +of which you know I ought to have been in possession +for my friend Digby's sake, and——"</p> + +<p>"Ah! Digby Kemsley again!" she cried impatiently. +"You've not been the same to me +since that man disappeared."</p> + +<p>"Because you know more concerning him than +you have ever admitted to me, Phrida," I said in +a firm, earnest voice, grasping her by the arm and +whispering into her ear. "Now, be open and frank +with me—tell me the truth."</p> + +<p>"Of what?" she faltered, raising her eyes to +mine with a frightened look.</p> + +<p>"Of what Mrs. Petre has told me."</p> + +<p>"That woman! What has she said against +me?" my love demanded with quick resentment.</p> + +<p>"She is not your friend, in any case," I +said slowly.</p> + +<p>"My friend!" she echoed. "I should think not. +She——"</p> + +<p>And my love's little hands clenched themselves +and she burst again into tears without concluding +her sentence.</p> + +<p>"I know, dearest," I said, striving to calm her, +and stroking her hair from her white brow. "I +tell you at once that I do not give credence to any +of her foul allegations, only—well, in order to +satisfy myself, I have come direct to you to hear +your explanation."</p> + +<p>"My—my explanation!" she gasped, placing +her hand to her brow and bowing her head. "Ah! +what explanation can I make of allegations I have +never heard?" she demanded. "Surely, Teddy, +you are asking too much."</p> + +<p>I grasped her hand, and holding it in mine gazed +again upon her. We were standing together near +the centre of the room where the glowing fire shed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +a genial warmth and lit up the otherwise gloomy +and solemn apartment.</p> + +<p>Ah! how sweet she seemed to me, how dainty, +how charming, how very pure. And yet? Ah! +the recollection of that woman's insinuations +on the previous night ate like a canker-worm +into my heart. And yet how I loved the pale, +agitated girl before me! Was she not all the world +to me?</p> + +<p>A long and painful silence had fallen between +us, a silence only broken by the whirl of a taxi +passing outside and the chiming of the long, old-fashioned +clock on the stairs.</p> + +<p>At last I summoned courage to say in a calm, +low voice;</p> + +<p>"I am not asking too much, Phrida. I am only +pressing you to act with your usual honesty, and +tell me the truth. Surely you can have nothing +to conceal?"</p> + +<p>"How absurd you are, Teddy!" she said in +her usual voice. "What can I possibly have +to conceal from you?"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," I said; "but you have already +concealed from me certain very important facts +concerning my friend Digby."</p> + +<p>"Who has told you that? The woman Petre, I +suppose," she cried in anger. "Very well, believe +her, if you wish."</p> + +<p>"But I don't believe her," I protested.</p> + +<p>"Then why ask me for an explanation?"</p> + +<p>"Because one is, I consider, due from you in +the circumstances."</p> + +<p>"Then you have set yourself up to be my judge, +have you?" she asked, drawing herself up proudly, +all traces of her tears having vanished. I saw that +the attitude she had now assumed was one of de<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>fiance; +therefore I knew that if I were to obtain +the information I desired I must act with greatest +discretion.</p> + +<p>"No, Phrida," I answered. "I do not mistrust +or misjudge you. All I ask of you is the +truth. What do you know of my friend Digby +Kemsley?"</p> + +<p>"Know of him—why, nothing—except that you +introduced us."</p> + +<p>For a second I remained silent. Then with severity +I remarked:</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, but I think you rather misunderstood +my question. I meant to ask whether +you have ever been to his flat in Harrington +Gardens?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! I see," she cried instantly. "That woman +Petre has endeavoured to set you against me, +Teddy, because I love you. She has invented +some cruel lie or other, just as she did in another +case within my knowledge. Come," she added, +"tell me out plainly what she has alleged +against me?"</p> + +<p>She was very firm and resolute now, and I saw +in her face a hard, defiant expression—an expression +of bitter hatred against the woman who had +betrayed her.</p> + +<p>"Well," I said; "loving you as intensely as +I do, I can hardly bring myself to repeat her +insinuations."</p> + +<p>"But I demand to know them," she protested, +standing erect and facing me. "I am attacked; +therefore, I am within my right to know what +charges the woman has brought against me."</p> + +<p>"She has brought no direct charges," was my +slow reply. "But she has suggested certain things—certain +scandalous things."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What are they?" she gasped, suddenly pale +as death.</p> + +<p>"First tell me the truth, Phrida," I cried, holding +her in my arms and looking straight into those +splendid eyes I admired so much. "Admit it—you +knew Digby. He—he was a friend of +yours?"</p> + +<p>"A—a friend—" she gasped, half choking with +emotion. "A—friend—yes."</p> + +<p>"You knew him intimately. You visited him at +his rooms unknown to me!" I went on fiercely.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she shrieked. "Don't torture me like +this, Teddy, when I love you so deeply. You don't +know—you can never know all I have suffered—and +now this woman has sought to ruin and +crush me!"</p> + +<p>"Has she spoken the truth when she says that +you visited Digby—at night—in secret!" I demanded, +bitterly, between my teeth, still holding +her, her white, hard-set face but a few inches +from my own.</p> + +<p>She drew a long, deep breath, and in her eyes +was a strange half-fascinated look—a look that I +had never seen in them before.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Teddy," she gasped. "This—this is the +death of all our love. I foresee only darkness and +ruin before me. But I will not lie to you. No! +I—I——"</p> + +<p>Then she paused, and a shudder ran through her +slim frame which I held within my grasp. "I'll +tell you the truth. Yes. I—I—went to see your +friend unknown to you."</p> + +<p>"You did!" I cried hoarsely, with fierce anger +possessing my soul.</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear," she faltered in a voice so low that +I could scarce catch her reply. "Yes—I—I went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +there," she faltered, "because—because he—he +compelled me."</p> + +<p>"Compelled you!" I echoed in blank dismay.</p> + +<p>But at that instant I saw that the blackness of +unconsciousness had fallen upon my love even as I +held her in my embrace.</p> + +<p>And for me, too, alas! the sun of life had ceased +to shine, and the world was dead.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE FUGITIVE'S SECRET.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">Tenderly</span> I placed my love upon the couch, and +then rang the bell.</p> + +<p>In answer to my summons the young Italian +man-servant appeared.</p> + +<p>"Send Mallock here quickly," I said. "Miss +Shand is not well. But say nothing of this to +your mistress, or to the other servants. You +understand, Egisto?"</p> + +<p>"Cer-tainly, sare," replied the smart young +Tuscan, and a few moments later the door re-opened +to admit the thin-faced maid in black, wearing her +muslin apron and gold-rimmed glasses.</p> + +<p>She dashed across to the couch in an instant, +and bent, looking into the white, immobile face of +my well-beloved.</p> + +<p>"I fear your mistress has fainted, Mallock, so I +thought it best to call you. I have, unfortunately, +imparted to her some news which has upset her. +Will you please see after her?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, sir. I'll go and get some smelling +salts and some water."</p> + +<p>And quickly the girl disappeared. Then, when she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +had gone, I stood before the inanimate form of +the woman I loved so well, and wondered what could +be the real, actual truth.</p> + +<p>Her admission had taken me aback. She had +confessed to visiting my friend, but had alleged +that he had compelled her. Was she actually +beneath some mysterious thraldom—was she held +in some secret bondage by the man I had trusted +and who was my best friend?</p> + +<p>The very suspicion of it filled me with a +fierce irresponsible anger, and I clenched my +fists.</p> + +<p>Ah! I would find him and face him. I would +clutch his throat and force the truth from his +lips.</p> + +<p>And if he had betrayed me—if he had exercised +any evil influence over Phrida—then, by heaven! +I would take his life!</p> + +<p>Mallock bustled in the next moment, and sinking +upon her knees began to apply restoratives.</p> + +<p>"Tell your mistress that I will return after +luncheon, if she will see me," I said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"And—and tell her, Mallock, to remain calm until +I see her. Will you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," answered the maid, and then I went +out into the hall, struggled into my overcoat, and +left the house.</p> + +<p>Out in Cromwell Road the scene, grey, dull +and dismal, was, alas! in accord with my own +feelings.</p> + +<p>The blow I had feared had fallen. The terrible +suspicion I had held from that moment when, upon +the stairs at Harrington Gardens, I had smelt that +sweet, unusual perfume and heard the jingle of +golden bangles, had been proved.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> + +<p>She had actually admitted her presence there—with +the man I had believed to be my friend, the +man, whom, up to the present, I had sought to +shield and protect!</p> + +<p>I hailed a taxi, and not knowing what I did, drove +to the Reform. As I passed up the steps from +Pall Mall the porter handed me my letters, and then, +heedless of where my footsteps carried me, I entered +the big, square hall and turned into the writing-room +on the left—a room historic in the annals of British +politics, for many a State secret had been discussed +there by Ministers of the Crown, many a point of +the Cabinet's policy had been decided, and also the +fate of many a bill.</p> + +<p>The long, sombre room with the writing tables +covered with blue cloth, was empty, as it usually is, +and I flung myself down to scribble a note—an +apology for not keeping an appointment that +afternoon.</p> + +<p>My overburdened heart was full of chagrin and +grief, for my idol had been shattered by a single +blow, and only the wreck of all my hopes and +aspirations now remained.</p> + +<p>In a week's time the coroner would hold his +adjourned inquiry into the tragedy at Harrington +Gardens, and then what startling revelations +might be made! By that time it was +probable that the police would be able to establish +the identity of the accused, and, moreover, +with Mrs. Petre vengeful and incensed against +Phrida, might she not make a statement to the +authorities?</p> + +<p>If so, what then?</p> + +<p>I sat with my elbows upon the table staring out +into Pall Mall, which wore such a cold and cheerless +aspect that morning.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>What could I do? How should I act? Ah! +yes, at that moment I sat utterly bewildered, and +trying in vain to discern some way out of that +maze of mystery.</p> + +<p>I had not looked at the unopened letters beneath +my hand, but suddenly chancing to glance at +them, I noticed one in an unfamiliar feminine +handwriting.</p> + +<p>I tore it open carelessly, expecting to find some +invitation or other, when, within, I found three +hastily scrawled lines written on the notepaper +of the Great Eastern Hotel at Liverpool Street. +It read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Since I saw you something has happened. +Can you meet me again as soon as possible? +Please wire me, Mrs. Petre, Melbourne House, +Colchester."</p></div> + +<p>I gazed at the note in extreme satisfaction. At +least, I had the woman's address. Yes, after I had +again seen Phrida I would see her and force from +her lips the truth.</p> + +<p>I rose quickly, placed the other letters in my +pocket without opening them, and drove down to +the City, where I was compelled to keep a business +appointment.</p> + +<p>At half-past three Egisto admitted me to Mrs. +Shand's, and in reply to my question, told me that +the "Signorina," as he always called Phrida, was +in the morning-room.</p> + +<p>Dressed in a pale grey gown, relieved with +lace at the collar and wrists, she rose slowly +from a big armchair as I entered, and came +across to me, her face pale, drawn, and +anxious.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah! dearest," I cried. "I'm glad to see +you better. Are you quite yourself again +now?"</p> + +<p>"Quite, thanks," was her low, rather weak reply. +"I—I felt very unwell this morning. I—I don't +know what was the matter." Then clinging to me +suddenly, she added, "Ah! forgive me, Teddy, +won't you?"</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to forgive, dear," was my +reply, as, placing my arm tenderly about her slim +waist, I looked into the depths of those wonderful +dark eyes of hers, trying to fathom what secret +lay hidden there.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she ejaculated. "I know, dear, that +though you affect to have forgiven me—that +you have not. How could you possibly forgive?"</p> + +<p>"I am not angry with you in the least, Phrida!" +I assured her quite calmly. "Because you +have not yet told me the truth. I am here to +learn it."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she gasped, sinking into a chair and +staring straight into the fire. The short winter's +day was dying, and already the light had nearly +faded. But the fire threw a mellow glow upon +her pale, hard-set features, and she presented a +strangely dramatic picture as she sat there with +head bent in shame. "Ah! yes. You are +here again to torture me, I suppose," she sighed +bitterly.</p> + +<p>"I have no desire in the least to torture +you," I said, standing erect before her. "But I +certainly think that some explanation of your +conduct is due to me—the man whom you are to +marry."</p> + +<p>"Marry!" she echoed in a blank voice, with a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +shrug of her shoulders, her eyes still fixed upon +the fire.</p> + +<p>"Yes, marry," I repeated. "You made an +admission to me this morning—one of which +any man would in such circumstances demand +explanation. You said that my friend had +forced you to go to Harrington Gardens. Tell +me why? What power does that man hold over +you?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, no! Teddy!" she cried, starting wildly +to her feet. "No, no!" she protested, grasping my +hands frantically. "Don't ask that question. +Spare me that! Spare me that, for the sake of +the love you once bore for me."</p> + +<p>"No. I repeat my question," I said slowly, but +very determinedly.</p> + +<p>"Ah! no. I—I can't answer it. I——"</p> + +<p>For a few moments a silence fell between us.</p> + +<p>Then I said in a low, meaning tone:</p> + +<p>"You can't answer it, Phrida, because you are +ashamed, eh?"</p> + +<p>She sprang upon me in an instant, her face full +of resentful fire.</p> + +<p>"No!" she declared vehemently. "I am +not ashamed—only I—I cannot tell you the +reason I went to Harrington Gardens. That's +all."</p> + +<p>"Yours is, to say the least, a rather thin excuse, +is it not?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"What else can I say? Simply I can tell you +nothing."</p> + +<p>"But you admit that you went to Harrington +Gardens. Did you go more than once?" I asked +very quietly.</p> + +<p>She nodded in the affirmative.</p> + +<p>"And the last occasion was on the night<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +when my friend was forced to fly, eh?" I suggested.</p> + +<p>I saw that she was about to elude answering +my question. Therefore, I added:</p> + +<p>"I already know you were there. I have +established your presence beyond the shadow +of doubt. So you may just as well admit it."</p> + +<p>"I—I do," she faltered, sinking again into +her chair and resting her elbows upon her +knees.</p> + +<p>"You were there—you were present when the +crime was committed," I said, looking straight at +her as I stood before her with folded arms.</p> + +<p>"Whoever has said that tells wicked lies," was +her quick response.</p> + +<p>"You were in Digby's room that night—after +I left," I declared.</p> + +<p>"How do you know."</p> + +<p>"Because the police have photographs of your +finger-prints," was my quiet reply.</p> + +<p>The effect of my words upon her was electrical.</p> + +<p>"The police!" she gasped, her face instantly +pale as death. "Do they know?"</p> + +<p>"Inspector Edwards is in possession of your +finger-prints," I replied briefly.</p> + +<p>"Then—then they will suspect me!" she shrieked +in despair. "Ah! Teddy! If you love me, +save me!"</p> + +<p>And she flung herself wildly at my feet, clutching +my hands and raising her face to mine in +frantic appeal.</p> + +<p>"For that very reason I have returned here +to you to-day, Phrida," I replied in a low tone +of sympathy. "If I can save you from being +implicated in this terrible affair, I will. But +you must tell me the whole truth from the start.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +Then I may be able to devise a plan to ensure +your security."</p> + +<p>And I slowly assisted her to her feet and led +her back to her chair.</p> + +<p>She sat without moving or speaking for some +moments, gravely thinking. Then of a sudden, +she said in a hard, hoarse voice:</p> + +<p>"Ah! you don't know, Teddy, what I have +suffered—how I have been the innocent victim +of a foul and dastardly plot. I—I was entrapped—I——"</p> + +<p>"Entrapped!" I echoed. "By whom? Not +by Digby Kemsley? He was not the sort of +man."</p> + +<p>"He is your friend, I know. But if you +knew the truth you would hate him—hate +him, with as deep and fierce a hatred as I do +now," she declared, with a strange look in her +great eyes.</p> + +<p>"You told me he had forced you to go to his +flat."</p> + +<p>"He did."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because he wanted to tell me something—to——"</p> + +<p>"To tell you what?"</p> + +<p>"I refuse to explain—I can't tell you, Teddy."</p> + +<p>"Because it would be betraying his secret—eh?" +I remarked with bitterness. "And, +yet, in the same breath you have told me +you hate him. Surely, this attitude of yours is +an unusual one—is it not? You cannot hate +him and strive to shield him at the same +moment!"</p> + +<p>She paused for a second before replying. Then +she said:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I admit that my attitude towards your friend +is a somewhat strange one, but there are reasons—strong, +personal reasons of my own—which +prevent me revealing to you the whole of what +is a strange and ghastly story. Surely it will +suffice you to know that I did not conceal all +knowledge of your friend and call upon him in +secret all of my own free will. No, Teddy, I loved +you—and I still love you, dear—far too well for +that."</p> + +<p>"I trusted you, Phrida, but you deceived +me," I replied, with a poignant bitterness in my +heart.</p> + +<p>"Under compulsion. Because——" and she +paused with a look of terror in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Because what?" I asked slowly, placing my +hand tenderly upon her shoulder.</p> + +<p>She shrank from contact with me.</p> + +<p>"No. I—I can't tell you. It—it's all too +terrible, too horrible!" she whispered hoarsely, +covering her white face with her hands. "I +loved you, but, alas! all my happiness, all the +joy of which I have so long dreamed, has slipped +away from me because of the one false step—my +one foolish action—of which I have so long +repented."</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Phrida," I urged, in deep earnestness, +bending down to her. "Confide in me."</p> + +<p>"No," she replied, with an air of determination. +"It is my own affair. I have acted foolishly and +must bear the consequences."</p> + +<p>"But surely you will not sacrifice our love rather +than tell me the truth!" I cried.</p> + +<p>Hot tears welled in her eyes, and I felt her frail +form tremble beneath my touch.</p> + +<p>"Alas! I am compelled," she faltered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then you refuse to tell me—you refuse to +explain why this man whom I believed to be +my friend, and to whom I have rendered many +services, has held you in his thraldom?" I +exclaimed bitterly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>REVEALS A FURTHER DECEPTION.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">My</span> love paused. She remained silent for a long +time. Then, with her head bowed, she faltered:</p> + +<p>"Yes. I—I am compelled to refuse."</p> + +<p>"Why compelled?" I demanded.</p> + +<p>"I—I cannot tell you," she whispered hoarsely. +"I dare not."</p> + +<p>"Dare not? Is your secret so terrible, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It is all a mystery. I do not know the +truth myself," she replied. "I only know that I—that +I love you, and that now, because that woman +has spoken, I have lost you and am left to face the +world—the police—alone!"</p> + +<p>"Have I not told you, dearest, that I will do my +best to protect and defend you if you will only +reveal the truth to me," I said.</p> + +<p>"But I can't."</p> + +<p>"You still wish to shield this blackguard who +has held you in secret in his hands?" I cried +in anger.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," she cried in despair. "I tell +you, Teddy, now—even if this is the last time we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +ever meet—that I love you and you alone. I have +fallen the victim of a clever and dastardly plot, +believe me, or believe me not. What I tell you is +the truth."</p> + +<p>"I do believe you," I replied fervently. "But +if you love me, Phrida, as you declare, you will +surely reveal to me the perfidy of this man I +have trusted!"</p> + +<p>"I—I can't now," she said in a voice of excuse. +"It is impossible. But you may know some day."</p> + +<p>"You knew that I visited him on that fatal +night. Answer me?"</p> + +<p>She hesitated. Then presently, in a low tone, +replied—</p> + +<p>"Yes, Teddy, I knew. Ah!" she went on, her +face white and haggard. "You cannot know the +torture I have undergone—fearing that you might +be aware of my presence there. Each time I met +you I feared to look you in the face."</p> + +<p>"Because your secret is a guilty one—eh?"</p> + +<p>"I fell into a trap, and I cannot extricate myself," +she declared hoarsely. "Now that the police +know, there is only one way out for me," she added, +in a tone of blank despair. "I cannot face it—no—I—now +that I have lost your love, dear. I care +for naught more. My enemies will hound me to +my death!"</p> + +<p>And she burst into a torrent of bitter tears.</p> + +<p>"No, no," I answered her, placing my hand +tenderly upon her shoulder. "Reveal the truth +to me, and I will protect you and shield you from +them. At present, though the police are in possession +of your finger-prints, as being those of a person +who had entered the flat on that night, they have +no knowledge of your identity, therefore, dear, have +no fear."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah! but I am in peril!" she cried, and I felt +her shudder beneath my touch. "That woman—ah!—she +may tell the police!"</p> + +<p>"What woman?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Petre, the woman who has already betrayed +me to you."</p> + +<p>"Then she knows—she knows your secret?" +I gasped.</p> + +<p>She bent her head slowly in the affirmative.</p> + +<p>I saw in her eyes a look of terror and despair, +such as I had never before seen in the eyes of any +person before—a haunted, agonised expression +that caused my heart to go out in sympathy for +her—for even though she might be guilty—guilty +of that crime of vengeance, yet, after all, she was +mine and she possessed my heart.</p> + +<p>"Is there no way of closing that woman's lips?" +I asked very slowly.</p> + +<p>She was silent, for, apparently, the suggestion +had not before occurred to her. Of a sudden, she +looked up into my face earnestly, and asked:</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Teddy. Will you promise me—promise +not to prejudge me?"</p> + +<p>"I do not prejudge you at all, dearest," I declared +with a smile. "My annoyance is due to +your refusal to reveal to me anything concerning +the man who has falsely posed as my friend."</p> + +<p>"I would tell you all, dearest," she assured me, +"but it is impossible. If I spoke I should only +further arouse your suspicions, for you would never +believe that I spoke the truth."</p> + +<p>"Then you prefer that I should remain in ignorance, +and by doing so your own peril becomes +increased!" I remarked, rather harshly.</p> + +<p>"Alas! my silence is imperative," was all she +would reply.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + +<p>Again and again I pressed her to tell me the reason +of the evil influence held over her by the man who +was now a fugitive, but with the greatest ingenuity +she evaded my questions, afterwards declaring +that all my inquiries were futile. The secret was +hers.</p> + +<p>"And so you intend to shield this man, Phrida," +I remarked at last, in bitter reproach.</p> + +<p>"I am not silent for his sake!" my love cried, +starting up in quick resentment. "I hate him too +much. No, I refuse to reveal the truth because +I am compelled."</p> + +<p>"But supposing you were compelled to clear +yourself in a criminal court," I said. "Supposing +that this woman went to the police! What then? +You would be compelled to speak the truth."</p> + +<p>"No. I—I'd rather kill myself!" she declared, +in frantic despair. "Indeed, that is what I intend +to do—now that I know I have lost you!"</p> + +<p>"No, no," I cried. "You have not lost me, +Phrida. I still believe in your purity and honesty," +I went on, clasping her passionately to my +heart, she sobbing bitterly the while. "I love +you and I still believe in you," I whispered into +her ear.</p> + +<p>She heaved a great sigh.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I wonder if you really speak the truth?" +she murmured. "If I thought you still believed in +me, how happy I should be. I would face my +enemies, and defy them."</p> + +<p>"I repeat, Phrida, that notwithstanding this +suspicion upon you, I love you," I said very +earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Then you will not prejudge me!" she asked, +raising her tear-stained eyes to mine. "You will +not believe evil of me until—until I can prove to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +you the contrary. You will not believe what Mrs. +Petre has told you?" she implored.</p> + +<p>"I promise, dearest, that I will believe nothing +against you," I said fervently, kissing her cold, hard +lips. "But cannot you, in return, assist me in +solving the mystery of Harrington Gardens. Who +was the girl found there? Surely you know?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't. I swear I don't," was her +quick reply, though her face was blanched to the +lips.</p> + +<p>"But Mrs. Petre gave me to understand that you +knew her," I said.</p> + +<p>"Yes—that woman!" she cried in anger. "She +has lied to you, as to the others. Have I not told +you that she is my most deadly enemy?"</p> + +<p>"Then she may go to the police—who knows! +How can we close her mouth?"</p> + +<p>My love drew a long breath and shook her head. +The light had faded, and only the fitful flames of +the fire illuminated the sombre room. In the +dark shadows she presented a pale, pathetic little +figure, her face white as death, her thin, delicate +hands clasped before her in dismay and despair.</p> + +<p>"Have you any idea where Digby is at this +moment?" I asked her slowly, wondering whether +if he were an intimate friend he had let her know +his hiding-place.</p> + +<p>"No. I have not the slightest idea," was her +faint reply.</p> + +<p>"Ah! If only I could discover him I would +wring the truth from him," I exclaimed between +my teeth.</p> + +<p>"And if you did so, I myself would be imperilled," +she remarked. "No, Teddy, you must not do that +if—if you love me and would protect me."</p> + +<p>"Why?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If you went to him he would know that I had +spoken, and then he would fulfil the threats he has +so often made. No, you must not utter a single +word. You must, for my sake, still remain his +friend. Will you, dear?"</p> + +<p>"After what you have told me!" I cried. +"Never!"</p> + +<p>"But you must," she implored, grasping both +my hands in hers. "If he had the slightest suspicion +that I had admitted my friendship with him, he +would act as he has always declared he would."</p> + +<p>"How would he act?"</p> + +<p>"He would reveal something—he would bring +proofs that even you would consider irrefutable," +she answered in a low, hard whisper. "No, dear," +and her grip upon my hands tightened. "In any +case there only remains to me one course—to +end it all, for in any case, I must lose you. Your +confidence and love can never be restored."</p> + +<p>"You must not speak like that," I said very +gravely. "I have not yet lost confidence in you, +Phrida. I——"</p> + +<p>"Ah! I know how generous you are, dear," +she interrupted, "but how can I conceal from myself +the true position? You have discovered that I +visited that man's flat clandestinely, that—that we +were friends—and that——"</p> + +<p>She paused, not concluding her sentence, and +bursting again into tears, rushed from the room +before I could grasp and detain her.</p> + +<p>I stood silent, utterly dumbfounded.</p> + +<p>Were those words an admission of her guilt?</p> + +<p>Was it by her hand, as that woman had insinuated, +the unknown girl's life had been taken?</p> + +<p>I recollected the nature of the wound, as revealed +by the medical evidence, and I recalled that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +knife which was lying upon the table in the drawing-room +above.</p> + +<p>Why did Phrida so carefully conceal from me the +exact truth concerning her friendship with the man +I had trusted? What secret power did he exercise +over her? And why did she fear to reveal anything +to me—even though I had assured her that my +confidence in her remained unshaken.</p> + +<p>Was not guilt written upon that hard, white face?</p> + +<p>I stood staring out of the window in blank indecision. +What I had all along half feared had +been proved. Between my love and the man of +whom I had never had the slightest suspicion, +some secret—some guilty secret—existed.</p> + +<p>And even now, even at risk of losing my affection, +she was seeking to shield him!</p> + +<p>My blood boiled within me, and I clenched +my fists as I strode angrily up and down that +dark room.</p> + +<p>All her admissions came back to me—her frantic +appeal to me not to prejudge her, and her final and +out-spoken decision to take her own life rather than +reveal the truth.</p> + +<p>What could it mean? What was the real solution +of that strange problem of crime in which, quite +unwittingly, I had become so deeply implicated?</p> + +<p>I was passing the grate in pacing the room, as +I had already done several times, when my eyes fell +upon a piece of paper which had been screwed up +and flung there. Curiosity prompted me to pick +it out of the cinders, for it struck me that it must have +been thrown there by Phrida before I had entered +the room.</p> + +<p>To my surprise I saw the moment I held it in my +hand that it was a telegram. Opening it carefully +I found that it was addressed to her, therefore she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +had no doubt cast it upon the fire when I had so +suddenly entered.</p> + +<p>I read it, and stood open-mouthed and amazed.</p> + +<p>By it the perfidy of the woman I loved, alas! +became revealed.</p> + +<p>She had deceived me!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>AN EFFACED IDENTITY.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">The</span> telegram was signed with the initial "D."—Digby!</p> + +<p>The words I read were—"Have discovered T +suspects. Exercise greatest care, and remember +your promise. We shall meet again soon."</p> + +<p>The message showed that it had been handed +in at Brussels at one o'clock that afternoon.</p> + +<p>Brussels! So he was hiding there. Yes, I would +lose no time in crossing to the gay little Belgian +capital and search him out.</p> + +<p>Before giving him up to the police I would meet +him face to face and demand the truth. I would +compel him to speak.</p> + +<p>Should I retain possession of the message? I +reflected. But, on consideration, I saw that +when I had left, Phrida might return to recover +it. If I replaced it where I had found it she +would remain in ignorance of the knowledge I had +gained.</p> + +<p>So I screwed it up again and put it back among +the cinders in the grate, afterwards leaving the +house.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + +<p>Next morning I stepped out upon the platform +of the great Gare du Nord in Brussels—a +city I knew well, as I had often been there +on business—and drove in a taxi along the +busy, bustling Boulevard Auspach to the Grand +Hotel.</p> + +<p>In the courtyard, as I got out, the frock-coated +and urbane manager welcomed me warmly, for I +had frequently been his guest, and I was shown to +a large room overlooking the Boulevard where I +had a wash and changed.</p> + +<p>Then descending, I called a taxi and immediately +began a tour of the various hotels where +I thought it most likely that the man I sought +might be.</p> + +<p>The morning was crisp and cold, with a perfect +sky and brilliant sunshine, bright and cheerful +indeed after the mist and gloom of January in +London.</p> + +<p>Somehow the aspect, even in winter, is always +brighter across the channel than in our much +maligned little island. They know not the "pea-souper" +on the other side of the Straits of +Dover, and the light, invigorating atmosphere +is markedly apparent directly one enters France +or Belgium.</p> + +<p>The business boulevards, the Boulevarde +Auspach, and the Boulevard du Nord, with +their smart shops, their big cafés, and their +hustling crowds, were bright and gay as my taxi +sped on, first to the Métropole, in the Place +de Brouckere.</p> + +<p>The name of Kemsley was unknown there. The +old concierge glanced at his book, shook his head, +and elevating his shoulders, replied:</p> + +<p>"Non, m'sieur."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p>Thence I went to the Palace, in front of +the station, the great new hotel and one of +the finest in Europe, a huge, garish place +of gilt and luxury. But there I met with equal +success.</p> + +<p>Then I made the tour of the tree-lined outer +boulevards, up past the Botanical Gardens and along +the Rue Royale, first to the Hotel de France, then +to the Europe, the Belle Vue, the Carlton in the +Avenue Louise, the new Wiltscher's a few doors +away, and a very noted English house from the +Boulevard Waterloo, as well as a dozen other +houses in various parts of the town—the Cecil +in the Boulevard du Nord, the Astoria in the Rue +Royale, and even one or two of the cheaper +pensions—the Dufour, De Boek's, and Nettell's, +but all to no purpose.</p> + +<p>Though I spent the whole of that day making +investigations I met with no success.</p> + +<p>Though I administered judicious tips to concierge +after concierge, I could not stir the +memory of a single one that within the past +ten days any English gentleman answering +the description I gave had stayed at their +establishment.</p> + +<p>Until the day faded, and the street lamps +were lit, I continued my search, my taxi-driver +having entered into the spirit of my +quest, and from time to time suggesting other +and more obscure hotels of which I had never +heard.</p> + +<p>But the reply was the same—a regretful "Non, +m'sieur."</p> + +<p>It had, of course, occurred to me that if the +fugitive was hiding from the Belgian police, who +no doubt had received his description from Scot<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>land +Yard, he would most certainly assume a +false name.</p> + +<p>But I hoped by my minute description to be able +to stir the memory of one or other of the dozens +of uniformed hall-porters whom I interviewed. +The majority of such men have a remarkably +retentive memory for a face, due to long cultivation, +just as that possessed by one's club hall-porter, +who can at once address any of the thousand or so +members by name.</p> + +<p>I confess, however, when at five o'clock, +I sat in the huge, noisy Café Métropole over +a glass of coffee and a liqueur of cognac, I +began to realise the utter hopelessness of my +search.</p> + +<p>Digby Kemsley was ever an evasive person—a +past master in avoiding observation, as I well +knew. It had always been a hobby of his, he +had told me, of watching persons without himself +being seen.</p> + +<p>Once he had remarked to me while we had +been smoking together in that well-remembered +room wherein the tragedy had taken +place:</p> + +<p>"I should make a really successful detective, +Royle. I've had at certain periods of my life to +efface myself and watch unseen. Now I've brought +it to a fine art. If ever circumstances make it imperative +for me to disappear—which I hope not," +he laughed, "well—nobody will ever find me, +I'm positive."</p> + +<p>These words of his now came back to me +as I sat there pensively smoking, and wondering +if, after all, I had better not return again +to London and remain patient for the additional +police evidence which would no doubt be forth<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>coming +at the adjourned inquest in a week's +time.</p> + +<p>I thought of the clever cunning exercised by +the girl whom I so dearly loved and in whose +innocence I had so confidently believed, of her +blank refusal to satisfy me, and alas! of her +avowed determination to shield the scoundrel +who had posed as my friend, and whom the +police had declared to be only a vulgar impostor.</p> + +<p>My bitter reflection maddened me.</p> + +<p>The jingle and chatter of that noisy café, full to +overflowing at that hour, for rain had commenced +to fall outside in the boulevard, irritated me. From +where I sat in the window I could see the crowds +of business people, hurrying through the rain to +their trams and trains—the neat-waisted little +modistes, the felt-hatted young clerks, the obese +and over-dressed and whiskered men from their +offices on the Bourse, the hawkers crying the +"Soir," and the "Dernière Heure," with strident +voices, the poor girls with rusty shawls and +pinched faces, selling flowers, and the gaping, +idling Cookites who seem to eternally pass and +re-pass the Métropole at all hours of the day and +the night.</p> + +<p>Before my eyes was there presented the whole +phantasmagoria of the life of the thrifty, hard-working +Bruxellois, that active, energetic race which +the French have so sarcastically designated "the +brave Belgians."</p> + +<p>After a lonely dinner in the big, glaring salle-à-manger, +at the Grand, I went forth again upon my +quest. That the fugitive had been in Brussels on +the previous day was proved by his telegram, yet +evasive as he was, he might have already left.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +Yet I hoped he still remained in the capital, and if +so he would, I anticipated, probably go to one of +the music-halls or variety theatres. Therefore I +set out upon another round.</p> + +<p>I strolled eagerly through the crowded promenade +of the chief music-hall of Brussels—the +Pole Nord, the lounge wherein men and women +were promenading, laughing, and drinking, but +I saw nothing of the man of whom I was in +search.</p> + +<p>I knew that he had shaved off his beard and +otherwise altered his appearance. Therefore my +attention upon those about me was compelled to be +most acute.</p> + +<p>I surveyed both stalls and boxes, but amid that +gay, well-dressed crowd I could discover nobody +the least resembling him.</p> + +<p>From the Pole Nord I went to the Scala, +where I watched part of an amusing revue; +but my search there was likewise in vain, as +it was also at Olympia, the Capucines, and +the Folies Bergères, which I visited in turn. +Then, at midnight, I turned my attention to +the big cafés, wandering from the Bourse along +the Boulevard Auspach, entering each café +and glancing around, until at two o'clock in +the morning I returned to the Grand, utterly +fagged out by my long vigil of over fifteen +hours.</p> + +<p>In my room I threw off my overcoat and flung +myself upon the bed in utter despair.</p> + +<p>Until I met that man face to face I could not, +I saw, learn the truth concerning my love's friendship +with him.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Petre had made foul insinuations, and +now that my suspicions had been aroused that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +Phrida might actually be guilty of that terrible +crime at Harrington Gardens, the whole attitude of +my well-beloved seemed to prove that my suspicions +were well grounded.</p> + +<p>Indeed, her last unfinished sentence as she had +rushed from the room seemed conclusive proof of +the guilty secret by which her mind was now +overburdened.</p> + +<p>She had never dreamed that I held the +slightest suspicion. It was only when she knew +that the woman Petre had met me and had +talked with me that she saw herself betrayed. +Then, when I had spoken frankly, and told +her what the woman had said, she saw that +to further conceal her friendship with Digby was +impossible.</p> + +<p>Every word she had spoken, every evasive sentence, +every protest that she was compelled to remain +silent, recurred to me as I lay there staring blankly +at the painted ceiling.</p> + +<p>She had told me that she was unaware of +the fugitive's whereabouts, and yet not half +an hour before she had received a telegram +from him.</p> + +<p>Yes, Phrida—the woman I trusted and loved +with such a fierce, passionate affection, had lied to +me deliberately and barefacedly.</p> + +<p>But I was on the fellow's track, and cost what +it might in time, or in money, I did not intend to +relinquish my search until I came face to face +with him.</p> + +<p>That night, as I tossed restlessly in bed, it +occurred to me that even though he might be in +Brussels, it was most probable in the circumstances +that he would exercise every precaution +in his movements, and knowing that the police were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +in search of him, would perhaps not go forth in +the daytime.</p> + +<p>Many are the Englishmen living "under a cloud" +in Brussels, as well as in Paris, and there is +not a Continental city of note which does not +contain one or more of those who have "gone +under" at home.</p> + +<p>Seedy and down-at-heel, they lounge about the +cafés and hotels frequented by English travellers. +Sometimes they sit apart, pretend to sip their cup +of coffee and read a newspaper, but in reality they +are listening with avidity to their own language +being spoken by their own people—poor, lonely, +solitary exiles.</p> + +<p>Every man who knows the by-ways of the +Continent has met them often in far-off, +obscure towns, where they bury themselves in the +lonely wilderness of a drab back street and live +high-up for the sake of fresh air and that single +streak of sunshine which is the sole pleasure of their +broken, blighted lives.</p> + +<p>Yes, the more I reflected, the more apparent +did it become that if the man whom Inspector +Edwards had declared to be a gross impostor +was still in the Belgian capital, he would most +probably be in safe concealment in one or other +of the cheaper suburbs.</p> + +<p>But how could I trace him?</p> + +<p>To go to the bureau of police and make a statement +would only defeat my own ends.</p> + +<p>No; if I intended to learn the truth I must act +upon my own initiative. Official interference would +only thwart my own endeavours.</p> + +<p>I knew Digby Kemsley. He was as shrewd +and cunning as any of the famous detectives, +whether in real life or in fiction. Therefore,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +to be a match for him, I would, I already +realised, be compelled to fight him with his own +weapons.</p> + +<p>I did not intend that he should escape me +before he told me, with his own lips, the secret +of my well-beloved.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>REVEALS ANOTHER ENIGMA.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2">"<span class="smcap">The</span> identity of the victim has not yet been +established, sir."</p> + +<p>These words were spoken to the coroner by +Inspector Edwards at the adjourned inquest held +on January the twenty-second.</p> + +<p>Few people were in court, for, until the +present, the public had had no inkling as to +what had occurred on that fatal night in Harrington +Gardens. The first inquest had not been +"covered" by any reporter, as the police had +exercised considerable ingenuity in keeping the +affair a secret.</p> + +<p>But now, at the adjourned inquiry, secrecy +was no longer possible, and the three reporters +present were full of inquisitiveness regarding +the evidence given on the previous occasion, +and listened with attention while it was being +read over.</p> + +<p>Inspector Edwards, however, had dealt with +them in his usually genial manner, and by the +exercise of considerable diplomacy had succeeded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +in allaying their suspicions that there was any +really good newspaper "story" in connection +with it.</p> + +<p>The medical witnesses were recalled, but neither +had anything to add to the depositions they had +already made. The deceased had been fatally +stabbed by a very keen knife with a blade of +peculiar shape. That was all.</p> + +<p>The unknown had been buried, and all that remained +in evidence was a bundle of blood-stained +clothing, some articles of jewellery, a pair of +boots, hat, coat, gloves, and a green leather +vanity-bag.</p> + +<p>"Endeavours had been made, sir, to trace +some of the articles worn by the deceased, +and also to establish the laundry marks on the +underclothing," the inspector went on, "but, +unfortunately, the marks have been pronounced +by experts to be foreign ones, and the whole +of the young lady's clothes appear to have +been made abroad—in France or Belgium, it +is thought."</p> + +<p>"The laundry marks are foreign, eh?" remarked +the coroner, peering at the witness through +his pince-nez, and poising his pen in his hand. +"Are you endeavouring to make inquiry abroad +concerning them?"</p> + +<p>"Every inquiry is being made, sir, in a dozen +cities on the continent. In fact, in all the +capitals."</p> + +<p>"And the description of the deceased has been +circulated?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Photographs have been sent through +all the channels in Europe. But up to the present +we have met with no success," Edwards replied. +"There is a suspicion because of a name upon a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +tab in the young girl's coat that she may be +Italian. Hence the most ardent search is being +made by the Italian authorities into the manner +and descriptions of females lately reported as +missing."</p> + +<p>"The affair seems remarkably curious," said the +coroner. "It would certainly appear that the +lady who lost her life was a stranger to +London."</p> + +<p>"That is what we believe, sir," Edwards +replied. Seated near him, I saw how keen and +shrewd was the expression upon his face. "We +have evidence that certain persons visited the +flat on the night in question, but these have +not yet been identified. The owner of the +flat has not yet been found, he having +absconded."</p> + +<p>"Gone abroad, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"It would appear so, sir."</p> + +<p>"And his description has been circulated also?" +asked the coroner.</p> + +<p>"Yes, a detailed description, together with a +recent photograph," was Edwards' reply. Then +he added: "We have received this at Scotland +Yard, sir—an anonymous communication which +may or may not throw considerable light on +to the affair," and he handed a letter on blue +paper to the coroner, which the latter perused +curiously, afterwards passing it over to the foreman +of the jury.</p> + +<p>"Rather remarkable!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Then, when the jury had completed reading +the anonymous letter, addressing them, he +said:</p> + +<p>"It is not for you, gentlemen, to regard that letter +in the light of evidence, but, nevertheless, it raises<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +a very curious and mysterious point. The writer, +as you will note, is prepared to reveal the truth of +the whole affair in return for a monetary reward. +It is, of course, a matter to be left entirely at the +discretion of the police."</p> + +<p>I started at this statement, and gazed across +the court—dull and cheerless on that cold +winter's afternoon.</p> + +<p>Who had written that anonymous letter? Who +could it be who was ready to reveal the truth if paid +for doing so?</p> + +<p>Was Phrida's terrible secret known?</p> + +<p>I held my breath, and listened to the slow, hard +words of the coroner, as he again addressed some +questions to the great detective.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," Edwards was saying. "There is +distinct evidence of the presence at the flat on the +night in question of some person—a woman +whose identity we have not yet been successful +in establishing. We, however, have formed a +theory which certainly appears to be borne out +by the writer of the letter I have just handed +you."</p> + +<p>"That the unknown was struck down by the hand +of a woman—eh?" asked the Coroner, looking +sharply across at the Inspector, who briefly replied +in the affirmative, while I sat staring straight before +me, like a man in a dream.</p> + +<p>I heard the Coroner addressing the jury in hard, +business-like tones, but I know not what he +said. My heart was too full to think of anything +else besides the peril of the one whom I +loved.</p> + +<p>I know that the verdict returned by the jury +was one of "Wilful murder." Then I went out into +the fading light of that brief London day, and,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +seeking Edwards, walked at his side towards the +busy Kensington High Street.</p> + +<p>We had not met for several days, and he, of +course, had no knowledge of my visit to Brussels. +Our greeting was a cordial one, whereupon I asked +him what was contained in the anonymous letter +addressed to "The Yard"?</p> + +<p>"Ah! Mr. Royle. It's very curious," he said. +"The Coroner has it at this moment, or I'd show it +to you. The handwriting is a woman's, and it has +been posted at Colchester."</p> + +<p>"At Colchester!" I echoed in dismay.</p> + +<p>"Yes, why?" he asked, looking at me in +surprise.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing. Only—well, Colchester is a +curious place for anyone to live who knows +the truth about an affair in Kensington," was +my reply, for fortunately I quickly recovered +myself.</p> + +<p>"Why not Colchester as well as Clapham—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course," I laughed. "But, tell me, +what does the woman say?"</p> + +<p>"She simply declares that she can elucidate the +mystery and give us the correct clue—even bring +evidence if required—as to the actual person who +committed the crime, if we, on our part, will pay +for the information."</p> + +<p>"And what shall you do?" I asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I don't exactly know. The letter only arrived +this morning. To-morrow the Council of Seven +will decide what action we take."</p> + +<p>"Does the woman give her name?" I asked +with affected carelessness.</p> + +<p>"No. She only gives the name of 'G. Payne,' +and the address as 'The G.P.O., London.' She's +evidently a rather cute person."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> + +<p>"G. Payne"—the woman Petre without a +doubt.</p> + +<p>I recollected her telegram asking me to meet her. +She had said that something had "happened," +and she had urged me to see her as soon as +possible. Was it because I had not replied that +she had penned that anonymous letter to the +police?</p> + +<p>The letter bore the Colchester post-mark, and +she, I knew, lived at Melbourne House in that +town.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you will get into communication with +her," I exclaimed presently.</p> + +<p>"Of course. Any line of action in the elucidation +of the mystery is worth trying. But what I cannot +quite understand is, why she requires blood-money," +remarked the detective as we strolled together in +the arcaded entrance to the Underground Station +at High Street, Kensington. "I always look +askance at such letters. We receive many of +them at the Yard. Not a single murder mystery +comes before us, but we receive letters from +cranks and others offering to point out the guilty +person."</p> + +<p>"But may not the writers of such letters be +endeavouring to fasten guilt upon perfectly +innocent persons against whom they have spite?" +I suggested.</p> + +<p>"Ah! That's just it, Mr. Royle," exclaimed my +companion gravely. "Yet it is so terribly difficult +to discriminate, and I fear we often, in our hesitation, +place aside letters, the writers of which could really +give valuable information."</p> + +<p>"But in this case, what are your natural inclinations?" +I asked. "I know that you possess a +curious, almost unique, intuition as to what is fact<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +and what is fiction. What is, may I term it, your +private opinion?"</p> + +<p>He halted against the long shop-windows of +Derry & Toms, and paused for several minutes.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said at last in a deeply earnest +tone, "I tell you frankly, Mr. Royle, what +I believe. First, I don't think that the man +Kemsley, although an impostor, was the actual +assassin."</p> + +<p>"Why?" I gasped.</p> + +<p>"Well—I've very carefully studied the whole +problem. I've looked at it from every point of +view," he said. "I confess the one fact puzzles +me, that this man Kemsley could live so long +in London and pose as the dead Sir Digby if +he were not the actual man himself, has +amazed me! In his position as Sir Digby, the +great engineer, he must have met in society +many persons who knew him. We have evidence +that he constantly moved in the best circles +in Mayfair, and apparently without the slightest +compunction. Yet, in contradiction, we have +the remarkable fact that the real Sir Digby +died in South America in very mysterious and +tragic circumstances."</p> + +<p>I saw that a problem was presented to Inspector +Edwards which sorely puzzled him, as it certainly +did myself.</p> + +<p>"Well," I asked after a pause, and then with +some trepidation put the question, "what do you +intend doing?"</p> + +<p>"Doing!" he echoed. "There is but one course +to pursue. We must get in touch with this woman +who says she knows the truth, and obtain what +information we can from her. Perhaps she can +reveal the identity of the woman whose fingers<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +touched that glass-topped table in the room where +the crime was committed. If so, that will tell +us a great deal, Mr. Royle." Then, taking a +cigarette from his pocket and tapping it, he +added, "Do you know, I've been wondering of +late how it is that you got those finger-prints +which so exactly corresponded with the ones +which we secured in the flat. How did you +obtain them?"</p> + +<p>His question non-plussed me.</p> + +<p>"I had a suspicion," I replied in a faltering voice, +"and I tried to corroborate it."</p> + +<p>"But you have corroborated it," he declared. +"Why, Mr. Royle, those prints you brought to the +Yard are a most important clue. Where did you +get them?"</p> + +<p>I was silent for a moment, jostled by the crowd +of passers-by.</p> + +<p>"Well," I said with a faint smile, realising what a +grave mistake I had made in inculpating my well-beloved, +"I simply made some experiments as an +amateur in solving the mystery."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but those prints were the same as +those we got from the flat. Whence did they +come?"</p> + +<p>"I obtained them upon my own initiative," +I replied, with a forced laugh.</p> + +<p>"But you must surely tell me, Mr. Royle," +he urged quickly. "It's a most important +point."</p> + +<p>"No," I replied. "I'm not a detective, remember. +I simply put to the test a suspicion I have entertained."</p> + +<p>"Suspicion of what?"</p> + +<p>"Whether my theory was correct or not."</p> + +<p>"Whatever theory you hold, Mr. Royle, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +truth remains the same. I truly believe," he said, +looking hard at me, "namely that the unknown +victim was struck down by the hand which imprinted +the marks you brought to me—a woman's hand. +And if I am not mistaken, sir—you know the +identity of the guilty woman!"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>CONCERNS MRS. PETRE.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">Days</span>, weeks, passed, but I could obtain no further +clue. The month of March lengthened into April, +but we were as far as ever from a solution of the +mystery.</p> + +<p>Since my return from Brussels I had, of course +seen Phrida many, many times, and though I had +never reverted again to the painful subject, yet her +manner and bearing showed only too plainly that +she existed in constant dread!</p> + +<p>Her face had become thin and haggard, with +dark rings around her eyes and upon it was a wild, +hunted expression, which she strove to disguise, +but in vain.</p> + +<p>She now treated me with a strange, cold indifference, +so unlike her real self, while her attitude +was one of constant attention and strained +alertness.</p> + +<p>The woman Petre had apparently not been approached +by Scotland Yard, therefore as the days +went by I became more and more anxious to see her, +to speak with her—and, if necessary, to come to +terms with her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> + +<p>Therefore, without a word to anyone, I one +evening caught the six o'clock train from Liverpool +Street, and before eight was eating my +dinner in the big upstairs room of The Cups +Hotel, while the hall-porter was endeavouring +to discover for me the whereabouts of Melbourne +House.</p> + +<p>I had nearly finished my meal when the uniformed +servant entered, cap in hand, saying:</p> + +<p>"I've found, sir, that the house you've been inquiring +for is out on the road to Marks Tey, about +a mile. An old lady named Miss Morgan lived +there for many years, but she died last autumn, +and the place has, they say, been let furnished to +a lady—a Mrs. Petre. Is that the lady you are +trying to find?"</p> + +<p>"It certainly is," I replied, much gratified at the +man's success. Then, placing a tip in his palm, I +drank off my coffee, put on my overcoat, and +descended to the taxi which he had summoned +for me.</p> + +<p>He gave directions to the driver, and soon we were +whirling along the broad streets of Colchester, and +out of the town on the dark, open road which led +towards London. Presently we pulled up, and +getting out, I found myself before a long, low, ivy-covered +house standing back behind a high hedge of +clipped box, which divided the small, bare front +garden from the road. Lonely and completely +isolated, it stood on the top of a hill with high, +leafless trees behind, and on the left a thick copse. +In front were wide, bare, open fields.</p> + +<p>Opening the iron gate I walked up the gravelled +path to the door and rang. In a window on the +right a light showed, and as I listened I heard the +tramp of a man's foot upon the oilcloth of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +hall, and next moment the door was unlocked +and opened.</p> + +<p>A tall, thin-faced young man of somewhat sallow +complexion confronted me. He had keen, deep-set +eyes, broad forehead, and pointed chin.</p> + +<p>"Is Mrs. Petre at home?" I inquired briefly.</p> + +<p>In a second he looked at me as though with +distrust, then apparently seeing the taxi waiting, +and satisfying himself that I was a person of respectability, +he replied in a refined voice:</p> + +<p>"I really don't know, but I'll see, if you will step +in?" and he ushered me into a small room at the +rear of the house, a cosy but plainly-furnished little +sitting-room, wherein a wood fire burned with +pleasant glow.</p> + +<p>I handed him my card and sat down to wait, in +the meanwhile inspecting my surroundings with +some curiosity.</p> + +<p>Now, even as I recall that night, I cannot tell +why I should have experienced such a sense of grave +insecurity as I did when I sat there awaiting the +woman's coming. I suppose we all of us possess +in some degree that strange intuition of impending +danger. It was so with me that night—just as I +have on other occasions been obsessed by that +curious, indescribable feeling that "something is +about to happen."</p> + +<p>There was about that house an air of mystery +which caused me to hesitate in suspicion. Whether +it was owing to its lonely position, to the heavy mantle +of ivy which hid its walls, to the rather weird and +unusual appearance of the young man who had +admitted me, or to the mere fact that I was there to +meet the woman who undoubtedly knew the truth +concerning the tragic affair, I know not. But I +recollect a distinct feeling of personal insecurity.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p> + +<p>I knew the woman I was about to meet to be a +cold, hard, unscrupulous person, who, no doubt, +held my love's liberty—perhaps her life—in the +hollow of her hand.</p> + +<p>That horrifying thought had just crossed my mind +when my reflections were interrupted by the door +opening suddenly and there swept into the room +the lady upon whom I had called.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Mr. Royle!" she cried in warm welcome, +extending her rather large hand as she stood +before me, dressed quietly in black, relieved by a +scarlet, artificial rose in her waistband. "So +you've come at last. Ah! do you know I've +wanted to meet you for days. I expected you +would come to me the moment you returned from +Brussels."</p> + +<p>I started, and stood staring at her without replying. +She knew I had been to Belgium. Yet, as far as I +was aware, nobody knew of my visit—not even +Haines.</p> + +<p>"You certainly seem very well acquainted with +my movements, Mrs. Petre," I laughed.</p> + +<p>But she only shrugged her shoulders. Then +she said:</p> + +<p>"I suppose there was no secrecy regarding your +journey, was there?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," I replied. "I had business +over there, as I very often have. My firm do a big +business in Belgium and Holland."</p> + +<p>She smiled incredulously.</p> + +<p>"Did your business necessitate your visiting +all the hotels and music-halls?"</p> + +<p>"How did you know that?" I asked in quick +surprise.</p> + +<p>But she only pursed her lips, refusing to give me +satisfaction. I saw that I must have been watched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>—perhaps +by Digby himself. The only explanation +I could think of was that he, with his clever +cunning, had watched me, and had written to +this woman, his accomplice, telling her of my +search.</p> + +<p>"Oh! don't betray the source of your information +if you consider it so indiscreet," I said with sarcasm +a few moments later. "I came here, Mrs. Petre, +in response to your invitation. You wished to +see me?"</p> + +<p>"I did. But I fear it is now too late to avert +what I had intended," was her quiet response. +The door was closed, the room was silent, and we +were alone.</p> + +<p>Seated in an armchair the woman leaned back +and gazed at me strangely from beneath her long, +half-closed lashes, as though undecided what she +should say. I instantly detected her hesitation, +and said:</p> + +<p>"You told me in your message that something +unexpected had occurred. What is it? Does it +concern our mutual friend, Digby?"</p> + +<p>"Friend!" she echoed. "You call him your +friend, and yet at the same time you have been +in search of him, intending to betray him to the +police!"</p> + +<p>"Such was certainly not my intention," I declared +firmly. "I admit that I have endeavoured to +find him, but it was because I wished to speak +with him."</p> + +<p>"Ah! of course," she sneered. "That girl Shand +has, perhaps, made a statement to you, and now you +want to be inquisitive, eh? She's been trying to +clear herself by telling you some fairy-tale or another, +I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I repeat, Mrs. Petre," I said with anger, "I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +have no desire nor intention to act towards Digby +in any way other than with friendliness."</p> + +<p>"Ah! You expect me to believe that, my dear +sir," she laughed, snapping her fingers airily. "No, +that girl is his enemy, and I am hers."</p> + +<p>"And that is the reason why you have sent the +anonymous letter to the police!" I said in a low, +hard voice, my eyes full upon her.</p> + +<p>She started at my words.</p> + +<p>"What letter?" she asked, in pretence of +ignorance.</p> + +<p>"The one mentioned at the adjourned inquest +at Kensington," I replied. "The one in which you +offer to sell the life of the woman I love!"</p> + +<p>"So you know she is guilty—eh?" the woman +asked. "She has confessed it to you—has she +not?"</p> + +<p>"No. She is innocent," I cried. "I will never +believe in her guilt until it is proved."</p> + +<p>"Then it will not be long, Mr. Royle, before you +will have quite sufficient proof," she replied with a +triumphant smile upon her lips.</p> + +<p>"You are prepared to sell those proofs, I +understand," I said, suddenly assuming an air +of extreme gravity. "Now, I'm a business man. +If you wish to dispose of this information, +why not sell it to me?"</p> + +<p>She laughed in my face.</p> + +<p>"No, not to you, my dear sir. My business is +with the police, not with the girl's lover," was her +quick response.</p> + +<p>"But the price," I said. "I will outbid the police +if necessary."</p> + +<p>"No doubt you would be only too glad of the +chance of saving the girl who has so cleverly deceived +you. But, without offence, Mr. Royle, I certainly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +think you are a fool to act as you are now acting," +she added. "A foul crime of jealousy has been +committed, and the assassin must pay the penalty +of her crime."</p> + +<p>"And you allege jealousy as the motive?" +I gasped.</p> + +<p>"Most certainly," she answered. Then, after a +pause of a few seconds, she added—"The girl you +have so foolishly trusted and in whom you still +believe so implicitly, left her home in Cromwell +Road in the night, as she had often done before, +and walked round to Harrington Gardens in order +to see Digby. There, in his rooms, she met her +rival—she had suspicions and went there on purpose +armed with a knife. And with it she struck the girl +down, and killed her."</p> + +<p>"It's a lie!" I cried, starting to my feet. "A +foul, wicked lie!"</p> + +<p>"But what I say can be proved."</p> + +<p>"At a price," I said bitterly.</p> + +<p>"As you are a business man, so I am a business +woman, Mr. Royle," she replied quite calmly. +"When I see an opportunity of making money, I do +not hesitate to seize it."</p> + +<p>"But if you know the truth—if this is the +actual truth which at present I will not believe—then +it is your duty, nay, you are bound by +law to go to the police and tell them what you +know."</p> + +<p>"I shall do that, never fear," she laughed. "But +first I shall try and get something for my +trouble."</p> + +<p>"And whom do you intend to bring up as witness +against Miss Shand?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Wait and see. There will be a witness—an +eye-witness, who was present, and whose evidence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +will be corroborated," she declared in due course +with a self-satisfied air. "I have not resolved +to reveal the truth without fully reviewing the +situation. When the police know—as they certainly +will—you will then find that I have not lied, and +perhaps you will alter your opinion of the girl you +now hold in such high esteem."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<h3>DISCLOSES THE TRAP.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">The</span> woman's words held me speechless.</p> + +<p>She seemed so cold, so determined, so certain of +her facts that I felt, when I came to consider what +I already had proved, that she was actually telling +me the ghastly truth.</p> + +<p>And yet I loved Phrida. No. I refused to allow +my suspicions to be increased by this woman who +had approached the police openly and asked for +payment for her information.</p> + +<p>She was Phrida's enemy. Therefore it was my +duty to treat her as such, and in a moment I had +decided upon my course of action.</p> + +<p>"So I am to take it that both Digby and yourself +are antagonistic towards Phrida Shand?" I exclaimed, +leaning against the round mahogany table +and facing her.</p> + +<p>She did not speak for a few seconds, then, +springing to her feet, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Would you excuse me for a few seconds? +I forgot to give an order to my servant who is just +going out."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + +<p>And she bustled from the room, leaving me alone +with my own confused thoughts.</p> + +<p>Ah! The puzzling problem was maddening me. +In my investigations I now found myself in a +cul-de-sac from which there seemed no escape. +The net, cleverly woven without a doubt, was slowly +closing about my poor darling, now so pale, +and anxious, and trembling.</p> + +<p>Had she not already threatened to take her own +life at first sign of suspicion being cast upon her by +the police!</p> + +<p>Was that not in itself, alas! a sign that her secret +was a guilty one?</p> + +<p>I knew not what to do, or how to act.</p> + +<p>I suppose my hostess had been absent for about +five minutes when the door suddenly re-opened, and +she entered.</p> + +<p>"When we were interrupted, Mrs. Petre," I said, +as she advanced towards me, "I was asking you a +plain question. Please give me a plain reply. +You and Phrida Shand are enemies, are you +not?"</p> + +<p>"Well, we are not exactly friends," she laughed, +"after all that has occurred. I think I told you +that in London."</p> + +<p>"I remember all that you told me," I replied. +"But I want to know the true position, if—whether +we are friends, or enemies? For myself, it matters +not. I will be your friend with just as great a +satisfaction as I will be your enemy. Now, let us +understand each other. I have told you, I'm a +man of business."</p> + +<p>The woman, clever and resourceful, smiled sweetly, +and in a calm voice replied:</p> + +<p>"Really, Mr. Royle, I don't see why, after all, +we should be enemies, that is, if what you tell me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +is the positive truth, that you owe my friend Digby +no ill-will."</p> + +<p>"I owe no man ill-will until his perfidy is proved," +was my reply. "I merely went to Brussels to try +and find him and request an explanation. He +charged me with a mission which I discharged +with the best of my ability, but which, it seems, +has only brought upon me a grave calamity—the +loss of the one I love. Hence I am entitled to some +explanation from his own lips!"</p> + +<p>"Which I promise you that you shall have in +due course. So rest assured upon that point," +she urged. "But that is in the future. We are, +however, discussing the present. By the way—you'll +take something to drink, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you," I protested.</p> + +<p>"But you must have something. I'm sorry I +have no whisky to offer you, but I have some rather +decent port," and disregarding my repeated protests, +she rang the bell, whereupon the young man who +had admitted me—whom I now found to my surprise +to be a servant—entered and bowed.</p> + +<p>"Bring some port," his mistress ordered, and a +few moments later he reappeared with a decanter +and glasses upon a silver tray.</p> + +<p>She poured me out a glass, but refused to have +any herself.</p> + +<p>"No, no," she laughed, "at my time of life port +wine would only make me fat—and Heaven knows +I'm growing horribly stout now. You don't know, +Mr. Royle, what horror we women have of stoutness. +In men it is a sign of ease and prosperity, in women +it is suggestive of alcoholism and puts ten years on +their ages."</p> + +<p>Out of politeness, I raised my glass to her and +drank. Her demeanour had altered, and we were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +now becoming friends, a fact which delighted me, +for I saw I might, by the exercise of a little judicious +diplomacy, act so as to secure protection for Phrida.</p> + +<p>While we were chatting, I suddenly heard the +engine of my taxi started, and the clutch put in +with a jerk.</p> + +<p>"Why!" I exclaimed, surprised. "I believe +that's my taxi going away. I hope the man isn't +tired of waiting!"</p> + +<p>"No. I think it is my servant. I 'phoned for a +cab for her, as I want her to take a message into +Colchester," Mrs. Petre replied. Then, settling +herself in the big chair, she asked:</p> + +<p>"Now, why can't we be friends, Mr. Royle?"</p> + +<p>"That I am only too anxious to be," I declared.</p> + +<p>"It is only your absurd infatuation for Phrida +Shand that prevents you," she said. "Ah!" she +sighed. "How grossly that girl has deceived you!"</p> + +<p>I bit my lip. My suspicions were surely bitter +enough without the sore being re-opened by +this woman.</p> + +<p>Had not Phrida's admissions been a self-condemnation +to which, even though loving her +as fervently as I did, I could not altogether +blind myself.</p> + +<p>I did not speak. My heart was too full, and +strangely enough my head seemed swimming, but +certainly not on account of the wine I had drunk, +for I had not swallowed more than half the +glass contained.</p> + +<p>The little room seemed to suddenly become +stifling. Yet that woman with the dark eyes +seemed to watch me intently as I sat there, watch +me with a strange, deep, evil glance—an expression +of fierce animosity which even at that moment she +could not conceal.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> + +<p>She had openly avowed that the hand of my +well-beloved had killed the unknown victim because +of jealousy. Well, when I considered all the facts +calmly and deliberately, her words certainly seemed +to bear the impress of truth.</p> + +<p>Phrida had confessed to me that, rather than +face inquiry and condemnation she would take +her own life. Was not that in itself sufficient +evidence of guilt?</p> + +<p>But no! I strove to put such thoughts behind +me. My brain was awhirl, nay, even aflame, for +gradually there crept over me a strange, uncanny +feeling of giddiness such as I had never before +experienced, a faint, sinking feeling, as though the +chair was giving way beneath me.</p> + +<p>"I don't know why, but I'm feeling rather +unwell," I remarked to my hostess. Surely it could +not be due to my overwrought senses and my +strained anxiety for Phrida's safety.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Perhaps it's the heat of the room," the +woman replied. "This place gets unpleasantly +warm at night. You'll be better in a minute or two, +no doubt. I'll run and get some smelling salts. +It is really terribly close in here," and, rising quickly, +she left me alone.</p> + +<p>I remember that instantly she had disappeared +a red mist gathered before my eyes, and with a +fearful feeling of asphyxiation I struggled violently, +and fell back exhausted into my chair, while my +limbs grew suddenly icy cold, though my brow +was burning.</p> + +<p>To what could it be due?</p> + +<p>I recollect striving to think, to recall facts, to +reason within myself, but in vain. My thoughts +were so confused that grim, weird shadows and +grotesque forms arose within my imagination.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +Scenes, ludicrous and tragic, wildly fantastic and yet +horrible, were conjured up in my disordered brain, +and with them all, pains—excruciating pains, which +shot through from the sockets of my eyes to the back +of my skull, inflicting upon me tortures indescribable.</p> + +<p>I set my teeth in determination not to lose consciousness +beneath the strain, and my eyes were +fixed upon the wall opposite. I remember now the +exact pattern of the wallpaper, a design of pale +blue trellis-work with crimson rambler roses.</p> + +<p>I suppose I must have remained in that position, +sunk into a heap in the chair, for fully five +minutes, though to me it seemed hours when I +suddenly became conscious of the presence of persons +behind me.</p> + +<p>I tried to move—to turn and look—but found that +every muscle in my body had become paralysed. +I could not lift a finger, neither would my lips +articulate any sound other than a gurgle when I +tried to cry out. And yet I remained in a state of +consciousness, half blotted out by those weird, +fantastic and dreamy shapes, due apparently to +the effect of that wine upon my brain.</p> + +<p>Had I been deliberately poisoned? The startling +truth flashed across my mind just as I heard a low +stealthy movement behind me.</p> + +<p>Yes. I was helpless there, in the hands of my +enemies. I, wary as I believed myself to be, had +fallen into a trap cunningly prepared by that clever +woman who was Digby's accomplice.</p> + +<p>I now believed all that Edwards had told me +of the man's cunning and his imposture. How +that he had assumed the identity of a clever and +renowned man who had died so mysteriously in +South America. Perhaps he had killed him—who +could tell?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> + +<p>As these bitter thoughts regarding the man whom +I had looked upon as a friend flitted through my +brain, I saw to my amazement, standing boldly +before me, the woman Petre with two men, one +a dark-bearded, beetle-browed, middle-aged man of +Hindu type—a half-caste probably—while the other +was the young man who had admitted me.</p> + +<p>The Hindu bent until his scraggy whiskers almost +touched my cheek, looking straight into my eyes +with keen, intent gaze, but without speaking.</p> + +<p>I saw that the young man had carried a small +deal box about eighteen inches square, which he +had placed upon the round mahogany table in the +centre of the room.</p> + +<p>This table the woman pushed towards my chair +until I was seated before it. But she hardly gave +me a glance.</p> + +<p>I tried to speak, to inquire the reason of such +strange proceedings, but it seemed that the drug +which had been given me in that wine had produced +entire muscular paralysis. I could not move, +neither could I speak. My brain was on fire and +swimming, yet I remained perfectly conscious, +horrified to find myself so utterly and entirely +helpless.</p> + +<p>The sallow-faced man, in whose black eyes was an +evil, murderous look, and upon whose thin lips +there played a slight, but triumphant smile, took +both my arms and laid them straight upon the +table.</p> + +<p>I tried with all my power to move them, but to +no purpose. As he placed them, so they remained.</p> + +<p>Then, for the first time, the woman spoke, and +addressing me, said in a hard, harsh tone:</p> + +<p>"You are Digby's enemy, and mine, Mr. Royle. +Therefore you will now see the manner in which we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +treat those who endeavour to thwart our ends. +You have been brave, but your valour has not +availed you much. The secret of Digby Kemsley +is still a secret—and will ever be a secret," she +added in a slow, meaning voice.</p> + +<p>And as she uttered those words the half-bred +Indian took my head in his hands and forced my +body forward until my head rested upon the table +between my outstretched arms.</p> + +<p>Again I tried to raise myself, and to utter protest, +but only a low gurgling escaped my parched lips. +My jaws were set and I could not move them.</p> + +<p>Ah! the situation was the strangest in which +I have ever found myself in all my life.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, while my head lay upon the polished +table I saw the Hindu put a short double-reed pipe +to his mouth, and next instant the room was filled +with weird, shrill music, while at the same moment +he unfastened the side of the little box and let down +the hinged flap.</p> + +<p>Again the native music sounded more shrill +than before, while the woman and the young man-servant +had retreated backward towards the door, +their eyes fixed upon the mysterious box upon +the table.</p> + +<p>I, too, had my eyes upon the box.</p> + +<p>Suddenly I caught sight of something within, and +next second held my breath, realising the horrible +torture that was intended.</p> + +<p>I lay there helpless, powerless to draw back +and save myself.</p> + +<p>Again the sounds of the pipe rose and then died +away slowly in a long drawn-out wail.</p> + +<p>My eyes were fixed upon that innocent-looking +little box in horror and fascination.</p> + +<p>Ah! Something moved again within.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> + +<p>I saw it—saw it quite plainly.</p> + +<p>I tried to cry out—to protest, to shout for help. +But in vain.</p> + +<p>Surely this woman's vengeance was indeed a +fiendish and relentless one.</p> + +<p>My face was not more than a foot away from the +mysterious box, and when I fully realised, in my +terror, what was intended, I think my brain must +have given way.</p> + +<p>I became insane!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<h3>THE SEAL OF SILENCE.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">Yes</span>, there was no doubt about it. Terror and +horror had driven me mad.</p> + +<p>And surely the deadly peril in which I found +myself was in itself sufficient to cause the cheek of +the bravest man to pale, for from that box there +slowly issued forth a large, hideous cobra, which, +coiling with sinuous slowness in front of my face +held its hooded head erect, ready to strike.</p> + +<p>While the Hindu played that weird music on the +pipes its head with the two beady eyes and flickering +tongue, moved slowly to and fro. It was watching +me and ready to deal its fatal blow.</p> + +<p>The woman saw the perspiration standing upon +my white brow, and burst out laughing, still standing +at a safe distance near the door.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Mr. Royle, you won't have much further +opportunity of investigation," she exclaimed. "You +have become far too inquisitive, and you constitute +a danger—hence this action. I'm very sorry, but +it must be so," declared the brutal, inhuman woman.</p> + +<p>She was watching, gloating over her triumph; +waiting, indeed, for my death.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> + +<p>Surely I was not their first victim! All had been +carried out in a method which showed that the paralysing +drug and the deadly reptile had been used +before by this strange trio.</p> + +<p>The music, now being played incessantly, apparently +prevented the snake from darting at me, +as it was, no doubt, under the hypnotic influence of +its master. But I knew that the moment the +music ceased it would be my last.</p> + +<p>With frantic efforts I struggled to withdraw +my head and hands from the reptile's reach, but +every muscle seemed powerless. I could not +budge an inch.</p> + +<p>Again I tried to speak, to shout for help, but no +word could I articulate. I was dead in all save +consciousness.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," laughed Mrs. Petre hoarsely; "we're +just playing you a little music—to send you to +sleep—to put the seal of silence upon you, Mr. +Royle. And I hope you'll sleep very well to-night—very +well—as no doubt you will!" and she gave +vent to a loud peal of harsh laughter.</p> + +<p>Then, for a moment she hesitated, until suddenly +she cried to the Hindu:</p> + +<p>"Enough!"</p> + +<p>The music ceased instantly, and the snake, whose +hooded head had been swaying to and fro slowly, +suddenly shot up erect.</p> + +<p>The spell of the music was broken, and I knew +my doom was sealed.</p> + +<p>Those small, brilliant eyes were fastened upon +mine, staring straight at me, the head moving very +slowly, while those three brutes actually watched +my agony of terror, and exchanged smiles as they +waited for the reptile to strike its fatal blow.</p> + +<p>In an instant its fangs would, I knew, be in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +my face, and into my blood would be injected +that deadly venom which must inevitably prove +fatal.</p> + +<p>Yes, I had been entrapped, and they held the +honours in the game. After my death Phrida +would be denounced, accused, and convicted as an +assassin. Because, perhaps, I might be a witness in +her favour, or even assist her to escape arrest, this +woman had taken the drastic step of closing my +lips for ever.</p> + +<p>But was it with Digby's knowledge? Had he +ever been her accomplice in similar deeds to this?</p> + +<p>Suddenly I recollected with a start what Edwards +had told me—that the real Sir Digby Kemsley, an +invalid, had died of snake-bite in mysterious circumstances, +in Peru; and that his friend, a somewhat +shady Englishman named Cane, had been suspected +of placing the reptile near him, owing to the shouts +of terror of the doomed man being overheard by a +Peruvian man-servant.</p> + +<p>Was it possible that the man whom I had known +as Digby was actually Cane?</p> + +<p>The method of the snake was the same as that +practised at Huacho!</p> + +<p>These, and other thoughts, flashed across my +brain in an instant, for I knew that the agony of a +fearful death would be quickly upon me.</p> + +<p>I tried to utter a curse upon those three brutes +who stood looking on without raising a hand to save +me, but still I could not speak.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, something black shot across my startled +eyes. The reptile had darted.</p> + +<p>The horror of that moment held me transfixed.</p> + +<p>I felt a sharp sting upon my left cheek, and next +instant, petrified by a terror indescribable, I lost +consciousness.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> + +<p>What happened afterwards I have no idea. I +can only surmise.</p> + +<p>How long I remained senseless I cannot tell. All +I am aware of is that when I returned to a knowledge +of things about me I had a feeling that my +limbs were benumbed and cramped. Against my +head was a cold, slimy wall, and my body was lying +in water.</p> + +<p>For a time, dazed as I was, I could not distinguish +my position. My thoughts were all confused; all +seemed pitch darkness, and the silence was complete +save for the slow trickling of water somewhere near +my head.</p> + +<p>I must have lain there a full hour, slowly gathering +my senses. The back of my head was very sore, +for it seemed as though I had received a heavy +blow, while my elbows and knees seemed cut +and bruised.</p> + +<p>In the close darkness I tried to discover where I +was, but my brain was swimming with an excruciating +pain in the top of my skull.</p> + +<p>Slowly, very slowly, recollections of the past came +back to me—remembrance of that terrible, final +half-hour.</p> + +<p>Yes, Joy! I was still alive; the loathsome +reptile's fang had not produced death. It may +have bitten some object and evacuated its venom +just prior to biting me. That was the theory +which occurred to me, and I believe it to be the +correct one.</p> + +<p>I could raise my hand, too. I was no longer +paralysed. I could speak. I shouted, but my +voice seemed deadened and stifled.</p> + +<p>On feeling my head I found that I had a long +scalp-wound, upon which the blood was congealed. +My clothes were rent, and as I groped about I quickly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +found that my prison was a circular wall of stone, +wet and slimy, about four feet across, and that I +was half reclining in water with soft, yielding mud +beneath me, while the air seemed close and foul.</p> + +<p>The roof above me seemed high, for my voice +appeared to ascend very far. I looked above me +and high up, so high that I could only just distinguish +it was a tiny ray of light—the light of day.</p> + +<p>With frantic fingers I felt those circular walls, +thick with the encrustations and slime of ages. Then +all of a sudden the truth flashed upon me. My +enemies, believing me dead, had thrown me down +a well!</p> + +<p>I shouted and shouted, yelled again and again. +But my voice only echoed high up, and no one +came to my assistance.</p> + +<p>My legs, immersed as they were in icy-cold water, +were cramped and benumbed, so that I had no +feeling in them, while my hands were wet and cold, +and my head hot as fire.</p> + +<p>As far as I could judge in the darkness, the well +must have been fully eighty feet or so deep, and +after I had been flung headlong down it the wooden +trap-door had been re-closed. It was through the +chink between the two flaps that I could see the +blessed light of day.</p> + +<p>I shouted again, yelling with all my might: +"Help! Help!" in the hope that somebody in +the vicinity might hear me and investigate.</p> + +<p>I was struggling in order to shift into a more +comfortable position, and in doing so my feet sank +deeper into the mud at the bottom of the well—the +accumulation of many years, no doubt.</p> + +<p>Two perils faced me—starvation, or the rising of +the water: for if it should rain above, the water +percolating through the earth would cause it to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +rise in the well and overwhelm me. By the dampness +of the wall I could feel that it was not long +since the water was much higher than my head, as +I now stood upright.</p> + +<p>Would assistance come?</p> + +<p>My heart sank within me when I thought of the +possibility that I had been precipitated into the +well in the garden of Melbourne House, in which +case I could certainly not hope for succour.</p> + +<p>Again I put out my hands, frantically groping +about me, when something I touched in the darkness +caused me to withdraw my hand with a start.</p> + +<p>Cautiously I felt again. My eager fingers touched +it, for it seemed to be floating on the surface of +the water. It was cold, round, and long—the body +of a snake!</p> + +<p>I drew my hand away. Its contact thrilled me.</p> + +<p>The cobra had been killed and flung in after +me! In that case the precious trio had, without a +doubt, fled.</p> + +<p>Realisation of the utter hopelessness of the situation +sent a cold shudder through me. I had miraculously +escaped death by the snake's fangs, and was +I now to die of starvation deep in that narrow +well?</p> + +<p>Again and again I shouted with all my might, +straining my eyes to that narrow chink which +showed so far above. Would assistance never come? +I felt faint and hungry, while my wounds gave me +considerable pain, and my head throbbed so that +I felt it would burst at any moment.</p> + +<p>I found a large stone in the mud, and with it +struck hard against the wall. But the sound was +not such as might attract the attention of anybody +who happened to be near the vicinity of the well. +Therefore I shouted and shouted again until my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +voice grew hoarse, and I was compelled to desist +on account of my exhaustion.</p> + +<p>For fully another half-hour I was compelled to +remain in impatience and anxiety in order to recover +my voice and strength for, weak as I was, the exertion +had almost proved too much for me. So I stood +there with my back to the slimy wall, water reaching +beyond my knees, waiting and hoping against +hope.</p> + +<p>At last I shouted again, as loudly as before, but, +alas! only the weird echo came back to me in the +silence of that deeply-sunk shaft. I felt stifled, but, +fortunately for me, the air was not foul.</p> + +<p>Yes, my assassins had hidden me, together with +the repulsive instrument of their crime, in that disused +well, confident that no one would descend to +investigate and discover my remains. How many +persons, I wonder, are yearly thrown down wells +where the water is known to be impure, or where +the existence of the well itself is a secret to all but +the assassin?</p> + +<p>I saw it all now. My taxi-man must have been +paid and dismissed by that thin-faced young man, +yet how cleverly the woman had evaded my question, +and how glib her explanation of her servant going +into the town in a taxi.</p> + +<p>When she had risen from her chair and left me, +it was, no doubt, to swiftly arrange how my death +should be encompassed.</p> + +<p>Surely that isolated, ivy-covered house was a +house of grim shadows—nay, a house of death—for +I certainly was not the first person who had been +foully done to death within its walls.</p> + +<p>As I waited, trying to possess myself with patience, +and hoping against hope that I might still be rescued +from my living tomb, the little streak of light grew<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +brighter high above, as though the wintry sun was +shining.</p> + +<p>I strained my ears to catch any sound beyond the +slow trickling of the water from the spring, but, +alas! could distinguish nothing.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, however, I heard a dull report above, +followed quickly by a second, and then another in +the distance, and another. At first I listened much +puzzled; but next moment I realised the truth.</p> + +<p>There was a shooting-party in the vicinity!</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<h3>FROM THE TOMB.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">Again</span> I shouted—yelled aloud with all my might. +I placed my hands to my mouth, making a trumpet +of them, and shouted upwards:</p> + +<p>"Help! For God's sake! Help! I'm down +here—dying! Help!—<i>Help!</i>"</p> + +<p>A dozen times I yelled my appeal, but with the +same negative result. Whoever had fired in the +vicinity was either too far away, or too occupied +with his sport to hear me.</p> + +<p>I heard another shot fired—more distant than +the rest. Then my heart sank within me—the party +were receding.</p> + +<p>I don't know how long I waited—perhaps another +hour—when I thought I would try again. Therefore +I recommenced my shouts for assistance, yelling +frantically towards the high-up opening.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the streak of light became obscured, and +dust and gravel fell upon me, the latter striking +my head with great force from such a height.</p> + +<p>I heard a noise above—a footstep upon the wooden +flap of the well. My heart gave a bound.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Help!" I yelled. "Open the well! I'm down +here—dying. Save me! Fetch assistance!"</p> + +<p>The feet above moved, and a moment later I saw +above me a round disc of daylight and a head—a +girl's head—silhouetted within it.</p> + +<p>"Who's there?" she asked in a timid, half-frightened +voice.</p> + +<p>"It's me!" I cried. "Get me out of this! I'm +dying. Get me a rope or something, quickly!"</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" asked the girl, still frightened +at her discovery.</p> + +<p>"I'm a man who's been thrown down here, and I +can't get out. Get somebody to help me, I beg +of you!"</p> + +<p>"All right!" she replied. "There's some men, +shooting here. I'll run and tell them."</p> + +<p>And her face disappeared from the disc of daylight.</p> + +<p>At last! Help was forthcoming, and I breathed +more freely.</p> + +<p>I suppose about five minutes must have elapsed +before I saw above me the heads of two men in +golf-caps, peering over the edge of the well.</p> + +<p>"Hulloa!" cried one in a refined voice, "what +are you doing down there?"</p> + +<p>"Doing!" I echoed, "you should come down +and see!" I said with some sarcasm. "But, I +say! Send me down a rope, will you? I'm a +prisoner here."</p> + +<p>"Have you been thrown in there?" asked the +voice. "This lady says you have."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have. I'll tell you a strange story when +you get me out."</p> + +<p>"All right!" exclaimed the other. "Hold on! +We'll go over to the farm and get a rope. Why, I +was here half-an-hour ago, and never dreamt you +were down there. Hold on!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + +<p>And the two faces disappeared, their places being +taken by the silhouette of the girl.</p> + +<p>"I say!" I cried. "Where am I? What do they +call this place?"</p> + +<p>"Well, this is one of the fields of Coppin's Farm, +just outside Lexden Park."</p> + +<p>"Do you know Melbourne House?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. Miss Morgan's. She's dead," replied +the girl's voice from above. "It's out on the high +road—close by."</p> + +<p>"Is this well in the middle of a field, then?" +I asked.</p> + +<p>"In the corner. Some old, half-ruined cottages +stood here till a couple of years ago, when they were +pulled down."</p> + +<p>"And this was the well belonging to them?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," she replied, and a few minutes +later I heard voices and saw several heads peering +down at me, while now and then gravel fell upon +my unprotected head, causing me to put my hands +up to protect it.</p> + +<p>"I say!" cried the man's voice who had first +addressed me, "We're sending down a rope. Can +you fasten it round you, and then we'll haul you +up? I expect you're in a pretty state, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I'm not very presentable, I fear," I +laughed.</p> + +<p>Then down came a stout farmer's rope, several +lengths of which were knotted together after some +delay, until its end dangled before me.</p> + +<p>"I hope you've joined it all right," I cried. "I +don't want to drop down!"</p> + +<p>"No, it's all right!" one of the men—evidently +a labourer—declared. "You needn't fear, mister."</p> + +<p>I made a knot in the end, then, placing it around +both my thighs, made a slip knot and clung to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +rope above. This took me some minutes. Then, +when all was ready, I gave the signal to haul.</p> + +<p>"Slowly!" I shouted, for I was swinging from +side to side of the well, bruising my elbows and +knees. "Haul slower! I'm getting smashed to +pieces!"</p> + +<p>They heeded me, and with care I was gradually +drawn up to the blessed light of day—a light which, +for a few minutes, nearly blinded me, so exhausted +and dazed was I.</p> + +<p>Naturally I was beset by a hundred queries as to +how I came to be imprisoned in such a place.</p> + +<p>But I sat down upon the ground, a strange, +begrimed and muddy figure, no doubt, gazing about +me for a few moments unable to speak.</p> + +<p>I was in the corner of a bare, brown field, with a +high hedgerow close by. Around were the foundations +of demolished cottages, and I was seated upon +a heap of brick-rubbish and plaster.</p> + +<p>The two who were dressed in rough, shooting kit +I took to be military men, while three others were +farm-hands, and the girl—a tall, rather good-looking +open-air girl, was dressed in a short, tweed skirt, +well-cut, a thick jacket, a soft felt hat, and heavy, +serviceable boots. No second glance was needed +to show that, although so roughly dressed, she was +undoubtedly a lady.</p> + +<p>One of the men called her Maisie, and later I knew +that her name was Maisie Morrice, that she was his +sister, who had been walking with the "guns."</p> + +<p>My presence down the well certainly needed +explanation, and as they had rescued me, it was +necessary to satisfy their natural curiosity.</p> + +<p>"I had a curious adventure here last night," I +told them, after pausing to take breath. "I came +from London to see a lady living at Melbourne House.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +A lady named Petre—but I was given some drugged +wine, and—well, when I came to I found myself +down there. That's all."</p> + +<p>"A very unpleasant experience, I should say," +remarked the elder of the two sportsmen, a tall, +grey-moustached man, as he surveyed me. "I +suppose you'll go back to Melbourne House and get +even with the lady? I would!"</p> + +<p>"Melbourne House!" echoed the other man. +"Why, Maisie, that's where old Miss Morgan lived, +and it's been taken by some woman with an Indian +servant, hasn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied the girl. "She's been there a +month or two, but quite a mystery. Nobody has +called on her. Mother wouldn't let me."</p> + +<p>"Apparently she's not a very desirable acquaintance," +remarked her brother grimly.</p> + +<p>"I want to go there," I said feebly, trying +to rise.</p> + +<p>"You seem to have hurt your head pretty badly," +remarked the elder sportsman. "I suppose you'd +better go into Colchester and see the police—eh?"</p> + +<p>"I'll drive him in, sir," volunteered one of the +men, whom I took to be the farmer.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Cuppin," exclaimed the girl. "Get +your trap and drive this gentleman to the doctor +and the police."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," I replied. "But I don't want the +people at Melbourne House to know that I'm alive. +They believe me dead, and it will be a pretty surprise +for them when I return, after seeing the doctor. So +I ask you all to remain silent about this affair—at +least for an hour or so. Will you?"</p> + +<p>They all agreed to do so, and, being supported +by two of the men, I made my way across the field<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +to the farm; and ten minutes later was driving +into Colchester in the farmer's dog-cart.</p> + +<p>At the "Cups" my appearance caused some sensation, +but, ascending to my room, I quickly washed, +changed my ruined suit, and made myself presentable, +and then went to see an elderly and rather +fussy doctor, who put on his most serious professional +air, and who was probably the most renowned +medical man in the town. The provincial medico, +when he becomes a consultant, nearly always +becomes pompous and egotistical, and in his own +estimation is the only reliable man out of Harley +Street.</p> + +<p>The man I visited was one of the usual type, a +man of civic honours, with the aspirations of a +mayoralty, I surmised. I think he believed that +I had injured my head while in a state of intoxication, +so I did not undeceive him, and allowed his assistant +to bathe and bandage my wound and also the bite +upon my cheek, while the farmer waited outside +for me.</p> + +<p>When at last I emerged, I hesitated.</p> + +<p>Should I go to the police and tell them what had +occurred? Or should I return alone to Melbourne +House, and by my presence thwart whatever sinister +plans might be in progress.</p> + +<p>If I went to the police I would be forced to explain +much that I desired, at least for the present, to +keep secret. And, after all, the local police could +not render me much assistance. I might give the +woman and her accomplices in charge for attempted +murder, but would such course help in the solution +of the Harrington Gardens affair?</p> + +<p>After a few moments' reflection I decided to drive +straight to the house of shadows and demand an +explanation of the dastardly attempt upon me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour later Mr. Cuppin pulled up +near the long, ivy-covered house, and, alighting, I +made my way within the iron gate and up the +gravelled path to the front door, where I rang.</p> + +<p>I listened attentively, and heard someone moving.</p> + +<p>Yes, the house was not empty, as I had +half feared.</p> + +<p>A moment later a neat maid-servant opened the +door, and regarded me with some surprise.</p> + +<p>"Is Mrs. Petre at home?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"No, sir, she isn't," replied the girl with a strong +East Anglian accent.</p> + +<p>"When will she be in?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"I really don't know, sir," she said. "She hasn't +left word where she's gone."</p> + +<p>"Is anyone else at home?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>"How long have you been with Mrs. Petre?" I +asked, adding, in an apologetic tone, "I hope I'm +not too inquisitive?"</p> + +<p>"I've been here about two months—ever since +she took the house."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think your mistress a rather curious +person?" I asked, slipping half-a-sovereign into +her hand. She regarded the coin, and then +looked at me with a smile of surprise and satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"I—I hardly know what you mean, sir," she +faltered.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll be quite frank with you," I said. "I'm +anxious to know something about what company +she keeps here. Last night, for instance, a gentleman +called in a taxi. Did you see him?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," she answered. "Mistress sent me out +on an errand to the other side of the town, and when +I came back just before half-past eleven I found<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +the front door ajar, and everybody gone. And +nobody's been back here since."</p> + +<p>After disposing of my body, then, the precious +trio had fled.</p> + +<p>I knew that Phrida must now be in hourly peril +of arrest—for that woman would, now that she believed +me dead, lose not an instant in making a +damning statement to the police regarding what +had occurred on that night in Harrington Gardens.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + +<h3>RECORDS A STRANGE STATEMENT.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2">"<span class="smcap">Will</span> you permit me to come inside a moment?" +I asked the girl. "I want you to tell me one or +two things, if you will."</p> + +<p>At first she hesitated, but having surveyed me +critically and finding, I suppose, that I was not a +tramp she opened the door wider and admitted me +to the room wherein her mistress had entertained +me on the previous night.</p> + +<p>I glanced quickly around. Yes, nothing had been +altered. There was the chair in which I had sat, +and the round, mahogany table upon which my head +had laid so helplessly while the reptile, charmed by +the Hindu's music, had sat erect with swaying head.</p> + +<p>Ah! as that terrible scene again arose before +my eyes I stood horrified. The girl noticed my +demeanour, and looked askance at me.</p> + +<p>"Does your mistress have many visitors?" I +asked her. "To tell you the truth, I'm making +these confidential inquiries on behalf of an insurance +company in London. So you can be perfectly open +with me. Mrs. Petre will never know that you +have spoken."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, sir," replied the dark-eyed maid, after +a pause, during which time she twisted her dainty +little apron in her hand, "I suppose I really ought +not to say anything, but the fact is mistress acts +very curiously sometimes. Besides, I don't like Ali."</p> + +<p>"You mean the Indian?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He's too crafty and cunning," she replied. +"Sometimes in the middle of the night I wake up +and hear Ali, shut up in his room, playing on his +flute—such horrible music. And on such occasions +the mistress and Horton, the man, are usually with +him—listening to his concert, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"On those occasions, have there been guests in +the house?" I asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"Once, I think about a fortnight ago, a gentleman +had called earlier in the evening. But I did not +see him."</p> + +<p>"Did you see him next morning?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; he did not stay the night."</p> + +<p>"But on this particular occasion, how did you +know that Mrs. Petre and Horton were in the +room with him?"</p> + +<p>"Because I listened from the top of the stairs, +and could hear voices. The gentleman was in +there too, I believe, listening to the noise of +Ali's pipes."</p> + +<p>Had the stranger fallen a victim to the serpent, +I wondered?</p> + +<p>Who could he have been, and what was his fate?</p> + +<p>"Has your mistress and her two servants left +you suddenly like this before?" I inquired.</p> + +<p>"Never, sir. I can't make it out. They seem +to have gone out with the gentleman who called—and +evidently they left all of a hurry."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because when I got back I found that my mistress<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +had pulled out the first coat and hat she could find, +and had not taken even a handbag. Besides, if +she knew she was to be absent she would have left +me a note." And she added in a tone of resentment: "It +isn't fair to leave me by myself in a +lonely house like this!"</p> + +<p>"No, it isn't," I agreed. "But, tell me, does +your mistress have many callers?"</p> + +<p>"Very few. She has had a visitor lately—a +gentleman. He stayed a few days, and then left +suddenly."</p> + +<p>"Young or old?"</p> + +<p>"Elderly, clean-shaven, and grey hair. She used +to call him Digby."</p> + +<p>"Digby!" I echoed. "When was he here? Tell +me quickly!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, about four days ago, I think. Yes—he +went away last Sunday night."</p> + +<p>"Tell me all about him," I urged her. "He's a +friend of mine."</p> + +<p>"Oh, then perhaps I ought not to say anything," +said the girl a little confused.</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, you will be doing me the very +greatest service if you tell me all that you know +concerning him," I declared. "Don't think that +anything you say will annoy me, for it won't. He +was my friend, but he served me a very evil trick."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," she replied, "he arrived here very +late one night, and my mistress sat with him in the +drawing-room nearly all night talking to him. I +crept down to try and hear what was going on, but +they were speaking so low, almost whispering, so +that I could catch only a few words."</p> + +<p>"What did you hear?" I inquired breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"Well, from what I could gather the gentleman +was in some grave danger—something to do with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +a girl. Mistress seemed very excited and talked +about another girl, which she called Freda, or something +like that, and then the gentleman mentioned +somebody named Royle, whereon mistress seemed +to fly into a passion. I heard her say distinctly, +'You are a fool, Digby! If you're not very careful +you'll give the game away.' Then he said, 'If the +truth comes out, she will suffer, not me.'"</p> + +<p>"Whom did you infer he meant by she?" I +asked.</p> + +<p>"Ah, sir, that's impossible to say," was her +response. "Well, they were alone there for hours. +He seemed to be begging her to tell him something, +but she steadily refused. And every time he +mentioned the name of Royle she became angry +and excited. Once I heard her say, 'As long as +you keep carefully out of the way, you need not +fear anything. Nobody—not even the girl—suspects +the truth. So I don't see that you need have the +slightest apprehension. But mind, you're going to +play the straight game with me, Digby, or, by +heaven! it will be the worse for you!'"</p> + +<p>"Then she threatened him?" I remarked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. She seemed very determined and spoke +in a low, hard voice. Of course, I could only catch +a few disjointed words, and out of them I tried +to make sense. But I overheard sufficient to +know that the visitor was in a state of great agitation +and fear."</p> + +<p>"Did he go out much?"</p> + +<p>"All the time he was here I never knew him to +go further than the garden," said the maid, who +seemed to be unusually intelligent.</p> + +<p>"What about Ali?"</p> + +<p>"Ali was his constant companion. When they +were together they spoke in some foreign language."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> + +<p>A sudden thought flashed across my mind.</p> + +<p>Could Ali be a Peruvian Indian and not a Hindu? +Was he the accomplice of the mysterious Englishman +named Cane—the man suspected of causing the +death of Sir Digby Kemsley?</p> + +<p>What this girl was revealing was certainly +amazing.</p> + +<p>"You are quite sure that this man she called +Digby left the neighbourhood last Sunday?" I +asked her.</p> + +<p>"Quite. I overheard him speaking with the +mistress late on Saturday night. He said, 'By this +time to-morrow I shall be back in Brussels.' And I +know he went there, for next day I posted a letter +to Brussels."</p> + +<p>"To him?" I cried. "What was the address?"</p> + +<p>"The name was Bryant, and it was addressed +Poste Restante, Brussels. I remember it, because +I carefully made a note of it, as the whole affair +seemed so extraordinary."</p> + +<p>"But this man she called Digby. Was he well-dressed?" +I inquired.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no—not at all. He seemed poor and +shabby. He only had with him a little handbag, +but I believe he came from a considerable distance, +probably from abroad, expressly to see her."</p> + +<p>"Then you think he is in Brussels now?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I posted the letter on Monday night. +To-day is Wednesday," she said.</p> + +<p>I reflected. My first impulse was to go straight +to Brussels and send a message to Mr. Bryant at +the Poste Restante—a message that would trap him +into an appointment with me.</p> + +<p>But in face of Phrida's present peril could I +possibly leave London?</p> + +<p>I was at the parting of the ways. To hesitate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +might be to lose trace of the man who had proved +such a false friend, while, by crossing to Brussels +again, I would be leaving Phrida to her fate.</p> + +<p>"You heard no other mention of the person named +Royle?" I asked her after a brief pause, during +which I placed a second half-sovereign in her +hand.</p> + +<p>She reflected for a moment, her eyes cast down +upon the carpet, as we stood together in that +sombre little room of horrors.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes," she replied thoughtfully. "One +afternoon when I was taking tea into the drawing-room +where they were sitting together I heard +mistress say, 'I don't like that man Royle at all. +He means mischief—more especially as he loves +the girl.' The gentleman only laughed and said, +'Have no fear on that score. He knows nothing, +and is not likely to know, unless you tell him.' +Then mistress said, 'I've been a fool, perhaps, but +when we met I told him one or two things—sufficient +to cause him to think.' Then the gentleman stood +up angrily and cried out in quite a loud voice: +'What! you fool! You've actually told him—you've +allowed your infernal tongue to wag and let out the +truth!' But she said that she had not told all the +truth, and started abusing him—so much so that +he left the room and went out into the garden, +where, a few minutes later, I saw him talking +excitedly to Ali. But when the two men talked +I could, of course, understand nothing," added +the girl.</p> + +<p>"Then your mistress declared that she didn't like +the man Royle, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; she seemed to fear him—fear that he knew +too much about some business or other," replied +the maid. "And to tell you quite frankly, sir, after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +watching the mistress and her visitor very +narrowly for a couple of days I came to the conclusion +that the gentleman was hiding—that perhaps +the police were after him."</p> + +<p>"Why?" I inquired in a casual tone. "What +made you think that?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know. Perhaps from the scraps of +conversation I overheard, perhaps from his cunning, +secret manner—not but what he was always nice +to me, and gave me something when he left."</p> + +<p>"You didn't hear any other names of persons +mentioned?" I asked. "Try and think, as all that +you tell me is of the greatest importance to me."</p> + +<p>The girl stood silent, while I paced up and down +that room in which, not many hours before, I had +endured that awful mental torture. She drew her +hand across her brow, trying to recall.</p> + +<p>"Yes, there was another name," she admitted at +last, "but I can't at the moment recall it."</p> + +<p>"Ah, do!" I implored her. "Try and recall it. +I am in no hurry to leave."</p> + +<p>Again the dark-eyed maid in the dainty apron +was silent—both hands upon her brow, as she had +turned from me and was striving to remember.</p> + +<p>"It was some foreign name—a woman's name," +she said.</p> + +<p>I recollected the dead girl was believed to have +been a foreigner!</p> + +<p>Suddenly she cried—</p> + +<p>"Ah, I remember! The name was Mary Brack."</p> + +<p>"Mary Brack!" I repeated.</p> + +<p>"Yes. Of course I don't know how it's spelt."</p> + +<p>"Well, if it were a foreign name it would probably +be Marie B-r-a-c-q—if you are sure you've pronounced +it right."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. I'm quite sure. Mistress called her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +'poor girl!' so I can only suppose that something +must have happened to her."</p> + +<p>I held my breath at her words.</p> + +<p>Yes, without a doubt I had secured a clue to the +identity of the girl who lost her life at Harrington +Gardens.</p> + +<p>Her name, in all probability, was Marie Bracq!</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<h3>"MARIE BRACQ!"</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">Marie Bracq!</span> The name rang in my ears in the +express all the way from Colchester to Liverpool +Street.</p> + +<p>Just before six o'clock I alighted from a taxi in +Scotland Yard, and, ascending in the lift, soon found +myself sitting with Inspector Edwards.</p> + +<p>At that moment I deemed it judicious to tell him +nothing regarding my night adventure in the +country, except to say:</p> + +<p>"Well, I've had a strange experience—the +strangest any man could have, because I have dared +to investigate on my own account the mystery of +Harrington Gardens."</p> + +<p>"Oh! tell me about it, Mr. Royle," he urged, +leaning back in his chair before the littered writing-table.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing much to tell," was my reply. +"I'll describe it all some day. At present there's no +time to waste. I believe I am correct in saying +that the name of the murdered girl is Marie Bracq."</p> + +<p>Edwards looked me straight in the face. "That's +not an English name, is it?" he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, Belgian, I should say."</p> + +<p>"Belgian? Yes, most probably," he said. "A +rather uncommon name, and one which ought +not to be difficult to trace. How did you find +this out?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's a long story, Mr. Edwards," I said. +"But I honestly believe that at last we are on the +scent. Cannot you discover whether any girl of +that name is missing?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. I'll wire to the Brussels police at +once. Perhaps it will be well to ask the Préfect of +Police in Paris if they have any person of that +name reported missing," he said, and, ringing a bell, +a clerk appeared almost instantly with a writing-pad +and pencil.</p> + +<p>"Wire to Brussels and Paris and ask if they have +any person named Marie Bracq—be careful of the +spelling—missing. If so, we will send them over +a photo."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," the man replied, and disappeared.</p> + +<p>"Well," I asked casually, when we were alone, +"have you traced the tailor who made the dead +girl's costume?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. The Italian police are making every +inquiry."</p> + +<p>"And what have you decided regarding that +letter offering to give information?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," was his prompt reply. "And if +this information you have obtained as to the +identity of the deceased proves correct, we shall +do nothing. It will be far more satisfactory to +work out the problem for ourselves, rather than +risk being misled by somebody who has an axe +to grind."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I'm pleased that you view the matter in +that light," I said, much relieved. "I feel con<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>fident +that I have gained the true name of +the victim."</p> + +<p>"But how did you manage it, Mr. Royle?" he +asked, much interested.</p> + +<p>I, however, refused to satisfy his curiosity.</p> + +<p>"You certainly seem to know more about the +affair than we do," he remarked with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Well, was I not a friend of the man who is now +a fugitive?" I remarked.</p> + +<p>"Ah, of course! And depend upon it, Mr. Royle, +when this affair is cleared up, we shall find that +your friend was a man of very curious character," +he said, pursing his lips. "Inquiries have shown +that many mysteries concerning him remain to +be explained."</p> + +<p>For a moment I did not speak. Then I asked:</p> + +<p>"Is anything known concerning a woman friend +of his named Petre?"</p> + +<p>"Petre?" he echoed. "No, not that I'm aware +of. But it seemed that he was essentially what +might be called a ladies' man."</p> + +<p>"I know that. He used to delight in entertaining +his lady friends."</p> + +<p>"But who is this woman Petre whom you've +mentioned?" he inquired with some curiosity.</p> + +<p>"The woman who is ready to give you information +for a consideration," I replied.</p> + +<p>"How do you know that?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I am acquainted with her. I was with +her last night," was my quick response. "Her +intention is to condemn a perfectly innocent +woman."</p> + +<p>"Whom?" he asked sharply. "The woman who +lost that green horn comb at the flat?"</p> + +<p>I held my breath.</p> + +<p>"No, Edwards," I answered, "That question is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +unfair. As a gentleman, I cannot mention a lady's +name. If she chooses to do so that's another +matter. But if she does—as from motives of +jealousy she easily may do—please do not take any +action without first consulting me. Ere long I shall +have a strange, almost incredible, story to put +before you."</p> + +<p>"Why not now?" he asked, instantly interested.</p> + +<p>"Because I have not yet substantiated all my +facts," was my reply.</p> + +<p>"Cannot I assist you? Why keep me in the +dark?" he protested.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you can render me no other assistance +except to hesitate to accept the allegations of that +woman Petre," I replied.</p> + +<p>"Well, we shall wait until she approaches us +again," he said.</p> + +<p>"This I feel certain she will do," I exclaimed. +"But if you see her, make no mention whatever +of me—you understand? She believes me to be +dead, and therefore not likely to disprove her +allegations."</p> + +<p>"Dead!" he echoed. "Really, Mr. Royle, all +this sounds most interesting."</p> + +<p>"It is," I declared. "I believe I am now upon +the verge of a very remarkable discovery—that ere +long we shall know the details of that crime in +South Kensington."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you do succeed in elucidating the mystery +you will accomplish a marvellous feat," said the +great detective, placing his hands together and +looking at me across his table. "I confess that +I'm completely baffled. That friend of yours who +called himself Kemsley has disappeared as completely +as though the ground had opened and +swallowed him."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah, Edwards, London's a big place," I laughed, +"and your men are really not very astute."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because the man you want called at my +rooms in Albemarle Street only a few days +ago."</p> + +<p>"What?" he cried, staring at me surprised.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I was unfortunately out, but he left a +message with my man that he would let me know +his address later."</p> + +<p>"Amazing impudence!" cried my friend. "He +called in order to show his utter defiance of the +police, I should think."</p> + +<p>"No. My belief is that he wished to tell me +something," I said. "Anyhow, he will either +return or send his address."</p> + +<p>"I very much doubt it. He's a clever +rogue, but, like all men of his elusiveness and +cunning, he never takes undue chances. No, +Mr. Royle, depend upon it, he'll never visit +you again."</p> + +<p>"But I may be able to find him. Who knows?"</p> + +<p>The detective moved his papers aside, and with +a sigh admitted:</p> + +<p>"Yes, you may have luck, to be sure."</p> + +<p>Then, after some further conversation, he looked +at the piece of sticking plaster on my head and +remarked:</p> + +<p>"I see you've had a knock. How did you +manage it?"</p> + +<p>I made an excuse that in bending before my own +fireplace I had struck it on the corner of the mantelshelf. +Afterwards I suddenly said:</p> + +<p>"You recollect those facts you told me regarding +the alleged death of the real Kemsley in Peru, +don't you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"Well, they've interested me deeply. I'd so +much like to know any further details."</p> + +<p>Edwards reflected a moment, recalling the report.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, taking from one of the +drawers in his table a voluminous official file of +papers. "There really isn't very much more than +what you already know. The Consul's report is +a very full one, and contains a quantity of +depositions taken on the spot—mostly evidence +of Peruvians, in which little credence can, perhaps, +be placed. Of course," he added, "the suspected +man Cane seems to have been a very bad lot. +He was at one time manager of a rubber +plantation belonging to a Portuguese company, +and some very queer stories were current regarding +him."</p> + +<p>"What kind of stories?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, his outrageous cruelty to the natives when +they did not collect sufficient rubber. He used, +they said, to burn the native villages and massacre +the inhabitants without the slightest compunction. +He was known by the natives as 'The Red Englishman.' +They were terrified by him. His name, +it seems, was Herbert Cane, and so bad became +his reputation that he was dismissed by the company +after an inquiry by a commission sent from +Lisbon, and drifted into Argentina, sinking lower +and lower in the social scale."</p> + +<p>Then, after referring to several closely-written +pages of foolscap, each one bearing the blue embossed +stamp of the British Consulate in Lima, he went +on:</p> + +<p>"Inquiries showed that for a few months the +man Cane was in Monte Video, endeavouring to +obtain a railway concession for a German group of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +financiers, but his reputation became noised abroad +and he found it better to leave that city. Afterwards +he seems to have met Sir Digby and to have +become his bosom friend."</p> + +<p>"And what were the exact circumstances of +Sir Digby's death?" I asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Ah! they are veiled in mystery," was the +detective's response, turning again to the official +report and depositions of witnesses. "As I think I +told you, Sir Digby had met with an accident and +injured his spine. Cane, whose acquaintance he +made, brought him down to Lima, and a couple of +months later, under the doctor's advice, removed +him to a bungalow at Huacho. Here they lived +with a couple of Peruvian men-servants, named +Senos and Luis. Cane seemed devoted to his +friend, leading the life of a quiet, studious, refined +man—very different to his wild life on the +rubber plantation. One morning, however, on +a servant entering Sir Digby's room, he found +him dead, and an examination showed that he +had been bitten in the arm by a poisonous +snake. There were signs of a struggle, showing +the poor fellow's agony before he died. Cane, +entering shortly afterwards, was distracted with +grief, and telegraphed himself to the British +Consul at Lima. And, according to custom in +that country, that same evening the unfortunate +man was buried."</p> + +<p>"Without any inquiry?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. At the time, remember, there was no +suspicion. A good many people die annually in +Peru of snake-bite," Edwards replied, again referring +to the file of papers before him. "It seems, +however, that three days later, the second Peruvian +servant—a man known as Senos—declared that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +during the night of the tragic affair he had heard +his master suddenly yell with terror and cry out +'You blackguard, Cane, you hell-fiend; take +the thing away. Ah! God! You—why, you've +killed me!'"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said. "But was this told to Cane?"</p> + +<p>"Cane saw the man and strenuously denied +his allegation. He, indeed, went to the local Commissary +of Police and lodged a complaint against +the man Senos for falsely accusing him, saying +that he had done so out of spite, because a few +days before he had had occasion to reprimand him +for inattention to his duties. Further, Cane brought +up a man living five miles from Huacho who swore +that the accused man was at his bungalow on that +night, arriving at nine o'clock. He drank so +heavily that he could not get home, so he remained +there the night, returning at eight o'clock next +morning."</p> + +<p>"And the police officials believed him—eh?" +I asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. But next day he left Huacho, expressing +a determination to go to Lima and make a +statement to the Consul there. But he never +arrived at the capital, and he has never been +seen since."</p> + +<p>"Then a grave suspicion rests upon him?" I +remarked, reflecting upon my startling adventure +of the previous night.</p> + +<p>"Certainly. But the curious thing is that no +attempt seems to have been made by the police +authorities in Lima to trace the man. They allowed +him to disappear, and took no notice of the +affair, even when the British Consul reported it. I +fancy police methods must be very lax ones +there," he added.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But what could have been the method of the +assassin?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Why, simply to allow the snake to strike at +the sleeping man, I presume," said the detective. +"Yet, one would have thought that after the snake +had bitten him he would have cried out for help. +But he did not."</p> + +<p>Had the victim, I wondered, swallowed that +same tasteless drug that I had swallowed, and been +paralysed, as I had been?</p> + +<p>"And the motive of the crime?" I asked.</p> + +<p>Edwards shrugged his shoulders, and raised +his brows.</p> + +<p>"Robbery, I should say," was his reply. "But, +strangely enough, there is no suggestion of theft +in this report; neither does there seem to be any +woman in the case."</p> + +<p>"You, of course, suspect that my friend +Digby and the man Cane, are one and the same +person!" I said. "But is it feasible that if +Cane were really responsible for the death of +the real Sir Digby, would he have the bold +audacity to return to London and actually pose +as his victim?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Royle," replied the detective, "I +think it most feasible. Great criminals have the +most remarkable audacity. Some really astounding +cases of most impudent impersonation have come +under my own observation during my career in +this office."</p> + +<p>"Then you adhere to the theory which you +formed at first?"</p> + +<p>"Most decidedly," he replied; "and while it +seems that you have a surprise to spring upon me +very shortly, so have I one to spring upon you—one +which I fear, Mr. Royle," he added very slowly,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +looking me gravely in the face—"I fear may come +as a great shock to you."</p> + +<p>I sat staring at him, unable to utter a syllable.</p> + +<p>He was alluding to Phrida, and to the damning +evidence against her.</p> + +<p>What could he know? Ah! who had betrayed +my love?</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<h3>LOVE'S CONFESSION.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">I dined</span> alone at the Club, and afterwards sat over +my coffee in one of the smaller white-panelled rooms, +gazing up at the Adams ceiling, and my mind full +of the gravest thoughts.</p> + +<p>What had Edwards meant when he promised +me an unpleasant surprise? Had the woman +Petre already made a statement incriminating my +well-beloved?</p> + +<p>If so, I would at once demand the arrest of her +and her accomplices for attempted murder. It +had suggested itself to me to make a complete +revelation to Edwards of the whole of my exciting +adventure at Colchester, but on mature consideration +I saw that such a course might thwart my +endeavours to come face to face with Digby.</p> + +<p>Therefore I had held my tongue.</p> + +<p>But were Edwards' suspicions that the assassin +Cane and the man I knew as Sir Digby Kemsley +were one and the same, correct, or were they not?</p> + +<p>The method by which the unfortunate Englishman +in Peru had been foully done to death was +similar to the means employed against myself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +at Colchester on the previous night. Again, the +fact that the victim did not shout and call for +aid was, no doubt, due to the administration +of that drug which produced complete paralysis +of the muscles, and yet left the senses perfectly +normal.</p> + +<p>Was that Indian whom they called Ali really a +Peruvian native—the accomplice of Cane? I now +felt confident that this was so.</p> + +<p>But in what manner could the impostor have +obtained power over Phrida? Why did she not +take courage and reveal to me the truth?</p> + +<p>Presently, I took a taxi down to Cromwell Road +and found my well-beloved, with thin, pale, drawn +face, endeavouring to do some fancy needlework +by the drawing-room fire. Her mother had retired +with a bad headache, she said, and she was alone.</p> + +<p>"I expected you yesterday, Teddy," she said, +taking my hand. "I waited all day, but you +never came."</p> + +<p>"I had to go into the country," I replied +somewhat lamely.</p> + +<p>Then after a brief conversation upon trivialities, +during which time I sat regarding her closely, and +noting how nervous and agitated she seemed, she +suddenly asked:</p> + +<p>"Well! Have you heard anything more of that +woman, Mrs. Petre?"</p> + +<p>"I believe she's gone abroad," I replied, +with evasion.</p> + +<p>Phrida's lips twitched convulsively, and she gave +vent to a slight sigh, of relief, perhaps.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, dearest," I said, bending and stroking +her soft hair from her white brow. "Are you still +so full of anxiety? Do you still fear the exposure +of the truth?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> + +<p>She did not reply, but of a sudden buried her face +upon my shoulder and burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" I sighed, still stroking her hair sympathetically, +"I know what you must suffer, +darling—of the terrible mental strain upon you. +I believe in your innocence—I still believe in it, +and if you will bear a stout heart and trust +me, I believe I shall succeed in worsting your +enemies."</p> + +<p>In a moment her tear-stained face was raised +to mine.</p> + +<p>"Do you really believe that you can, dear?" +she asked anxiously. "Do you actually anticipate +extricating me from this terrible position of doubt, +uncertainty, and guilt?"</p> + +<p>"I do—if you will only trust me, and keep a brave +heart, darling," I said. "Already I have made +several discoveries—startling ones."</p> + +<p>"About Mrs. Petre, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"About her and about others."</p> + +<p>"What about her?"</p> + +<p>"I have found out where she is living—down at +Colchester."</p> + +<p>"What?" she gasped, starting. "You've been +down there?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I was there yesterday, and I saw Ali and +the two servants."</p> + +<p>"You saw them—and spoke to them?" she +cried incredibly.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"But, Teddy—ah! You don't know how injudicious +it was for you to visit them. Why, you +might have——"</p> + +<p>"Might have what?" I asked, endeavouring to +betray no surprise at her words.</p> + +<p>"Well, I mean you should not have ventured<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +into the enemy's camp like that. It was dangerous," +she declared.</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"They are quite unscrupulous," she replied +briefly.</p> + +<p>"They are your enemies, I know. But I cannot +see why they should be mine," I remarked.</p> + +<p>"My enemies—yes!" my love cried bitterly. +"It will not be long before that woman makes a +charge against me, Teddy—one which I shall not +be able to refute."</p> + +<p>"But I will assist you against them. I love +you, Phrida, and it is my duty to defend you," +I declared.</p> + +<p>"Ah! You were always so good and generous," +she remarked wistfully. "But in this case I cannot, +alas, see how you can render me any aid! The +police will make inquiries, and—and then the end," +she added in a voice scarce above a whisper.</p> + +<p>"No, no!" I urged. "Don't speak in that +hopeless strain, darling. I know your position is a +terrible one. We need not refer to details; as they +are painful to both of us. But I am straining every +nerve—working night and day to clear up the +mystery and lift from you this cloud of suspicion. +I have already commenced by learning one or two +facts—facts of which the police remain in ignorance. +Although you refused to tell me—why, I cannot +discern—the name of the unfortunate girl who lost +her life, I have succeeded in gaining knowledge of it. +Was not the girl named Marie Bracq?"</p> + +<p>She started again at hearing the name.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied at once. "Who told you?"</p> + +<p>"I discovered it for myself," I replied. "Who +was the girl—tell me?"</p> + +<p>"A friend of Digby Kemsley's."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A foreigner, of course?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Belgian, I believe."</p> + +<p>"From Brussels, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. I don't know for certain."</p> + +<p>"And she learned some great secret of Digby's, +which was the motive of the crime," I suggested.</p> + +<p>But my love only shook her pretty head blankly, +saying—"I don't know. Perhaps she knew something +to his detriment."</p> + +<p>"And in order to silence her, she was killed," +I suggested.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps."</p> + +<p>She made no protest of her own innocence, I +noticed. She seemed to place herself unreservedly +in my hands to judge her as I thought fit.</p> + +<p>Yet had not her own admissions been extremely +strange ones. Had she not practically avowed +her guilt?</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me nothing concerning this Belgian +girl?" I asked her a few moments later.</p> + +<p>"I only knew her but very slightly."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me putting to you such a pointed +question, Phrida. But were you jealous of +her?"</p> + +<p>"Jealous!" she ejaculated. "Why, dear me, +no. Why should I be jealous? Who suggested +that?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Petre. She declares that your jealousy +was the motive of the crime, and that Digby himself +can bear witness to it."</p> + +<p>"She said that?" cried my love, her eyes +flashing in fierce anger. "She's a wicked liar."</p> + +<p>"I know she is, and I intend to prove her so," +I replied with confidence. "When she and I +meet again we have an account to settle. You +will see."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah! Teddy, beware of her! She's a dangerous +woman—highly dangerous," declared my love apprehensively. +"You don't know her as I do—you +do not know the grave evil and utter ruin she +has brought upon others. So I beg of you to be +careful not to be entrapped."</p> + +<p>"Have others been entrapped, then?" I asked +with great curiosity.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. No. Please don't ask me," +she protested. "I don't know."</p> + +<p>Her response was unreal. My well-beloved was +I knew in possession of some terrible secret which +she dared not betray. Yet why were her lips sealed? +What did she fear?</p> + +<p>"I intend to find Digby, and demand the truth +from him," I said after we had been silent for a +long time. "I will never rest until I stand before +him face to face."</p> + +<p>"Ah! no dear!" she cried in quick alarm, starting +up and flinging both her arms about my neck. "No, +don't do that?" she implored.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because he will condemn me—he will think +you have learned something from me," she declared +in deep distress.</p> + +<p>"But I shall reveal to him my sources of information," +I said. "Since that fatal night I have +learned that the man whom I believed was my +firm friend has betrayed me. An explanation is +due to me, and I intend to have one."</p> + +<p>"At my expense—eh?" she asked in bitter +reproach.</p> + +<p>"No, dearest. The result shall not fall upon you," +I said. "I will see to that. A foul and dastardly +crime has been committed, and the assassin shall be +brought to punishment."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span></p> + +<p>My well-beloved shuddered in my arms as she +heard my words—as though the guilt were upon +her.</p> + +<p>I detected it, and became more than ever puzzled. +Why did she seek to secure this man's freedom?</p> + +<p>I asked her that question point-blank, whereupon +in a hard, faltering voice, she replied:</p> + +<p>"Because, dear, while he is still a fugitive from +justice I feel myself safe. The hour he is arrested +is the hour of my doom."</p> + +<p>"Why speak so despondently?" I asked. "Have +I not promised to protect you from those people?"</p> + +<p>"How can you if they make allegations against +me and bring up witnesses who will commit perjury—who +will swear anything in order that the guilt +shall be placed upon my head," she asked in +despair.</p> + +<p>"Though the justice often dispensed by country +magistrates is a disgraceful travesty of right and +wrong, yet we still have in England justice in +the criminal courts," I said. "Rest assured +that no jury will convict an innocent woman of the +crime of murder."</p> + +<p>She stood slightly away from me, staring blankly +straight before her. Then suddenly she pressed +both hands upon her brow and cried in a low, +intense voice:</p> + +<p>"May God have pity on me!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said very earnestly. "Trust in Him, +dearest, and He will help you."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she cried. "You don't know how I +suffer—of all the terror—all the dread that haunts +me night and day. Each ring at the door I fear may +be the police—every man who passes the house I +fear may be a detective watching. This torture is +too awful. I feel I shall go mad—<i>mad</i>!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> + +<p>And she paced the room in her despair, while I +stood watching her, unable to still the wild, frantic +terror that had gripped her young heart.</p> + +<p>What could I do? What could I think?</p> + +<p>"This cannot go on, Phrida!" I cried at last in +desperation. "I will search out this man. I'll +grip him by the throat and force the truth from him," +I declared, setting my teeth hard. "I love you, +and I will not stand by and see you suffer like +this!"</p> + +<p>"Ah, no!" she implored, suddenly approaching +me, flinging herself upon her knees and gripping +my hands. "No, I beg of you not to do that!" +she cried hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"But why?" I demanded. "Surely you can +tell me the reason of your fear!" I went on—"the +man is a rank impostor. That has been proved +already by the police."</p> + +<p>"Do you know that?" she asked, in an instant +grave. "Are you quite certain of that? Remember, +you have all along believed him to be the real +Sir Digby."</p> + +<p>"What is your belief, Phrida?" I asked her very +earnestly.</p> + +<p>She drew a long breath and hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Truth to tell, dear, I don't know what to think. +Sometimes I believe he must be the real person—and +at other times I am filled with doubt."</p> + +<p>"But now tell me," I urged, assisting her to rise +to her feet and then placing my arm about her neck, +so that her pretty head fell upon my shoulder. +"Answer me truthfully this one question, for all +depends upon it. How is it that this man has +secured such a hold upon you—how is it that with +you his word is law—that though he is a fugitive +from justice you refuse to say a single word against<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +him or to give me one clue to the solution of this +mystery?"</p> + +<p>Her face was blanched to the lips, she trembled +in my embrace, drawing a long breath.</p> + +<p>"I—I'm sorry, dear—but I—I can't tell +you. I—I dare not. Can't you understand?" she +asked with despair in her great, wide-open eyes. +"<i>I dare not!</i>"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + +<h3>OFFICIAL SECRECY.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">The</span> following evening was damp, grey, and dull, +as I stood shivering at the corner of the narrow +Rue de l'Eveque and the broad Place de la Monnie +in Brussels. The lamps were lit, and around me +everywhere was the bustle of business.</p> + +<p>I had crossed by the morning service by way of +Ostend, and had arrived again at the Grand only +half an hour before.</p> + +<p>The woman Petre had sent a letter to Digby +Kemsley to the Poste Restante in Brussels under +the name of Bryant. If this were so, the fugitive +must be in the habit of calling for his letters, and +it was the great black façade of the chief post-office +in Brussels that I was watching.</p> + +<p>The business-day was just drawing to a close, +the streets were thronged, the traffic rattled noisily +over the uneven granite paving of the big square. +Opposite the Post Office the arc lamps were shedding +a bright light outside the theatre, while all the shops +around were a blaze of light, while on every side +the streets were agog with life.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> + +<p>Up and down the broad flight of steps which +led to the entrance of the Post Office hundreds +of people ascended and descended, passing and +re-passing the four swing-doors which gave entrance +to the huge hall with its dozens of departments +ranged around and its partitioned desks +for writing.</p> + +<p>The mails from France and England were just +in, and dozens of men came with their keys to +obtain their correspondence from the range of +private boxes, and as I watched, the whole bustle of +business life passed before me.</p> + +<p>I was keeping a sharp eye upon all who passed +up and down that long flight of granite steps, but +at that hour of the evening, and in that crowd, it +was no easy matter.</p> + +<p>Would I be successful? That was the one +thought which filled my mind.</p> + +<p>As I stood there, my eager gaze upon that endless +stream of people, I felt wearied and fagged. The +Channel crossing had been a bad one, as it so often +is in January, and I had not yet recovered from +my weird experience at Colchester. The heavy +overcoat I wore was, I found, not proof against +the cutting east wind which swept around the +corner from the Boulevard Auspach, hence I was +compelled to change my position and seek shelter +in a doorway opposite the point where I expected +the man I sought would enter.</p> + +<p>I had already surveyed the interior and presented +the card of a friend to an official at +the Poste Restante, though I knew there was no +letter for him. I uttered some words of politeness +to the man in order to make his acquaintance, as +he might, perhaps, be of use to me ere my quest +was at an end.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p> + +<p>At the Poste Restante were two windows, one +distributing correspondence for people whose surname +began with the letters A to L, and the other +from M to Z.</p> + +<p>It was at the first window I inquired, the clerk +there being a pleasant, fair-haired, middle-aged +man in a holland coat as worn by postal employees. +I longed to ask him if he had any letters for the +name of Bryant, or if any Englishman of that +name had called, but I dared not do so. He would, +no doubt, snub me and tell me to mind my own +business.</p> + +<p>So instead, I was extremely polite, regretted to +have troubled him, and, raising my hat, withdrew.</p> + +<p>I saw that to remain within the big office for +hours was impossible. The uniformed doorkeeper +who sat upon a high desk overlooking everything, +would quickly demand my business, and +expel me.</p> + +<p>No, my only place was out in the open street. +Not a pleasant prospect in winter, and for how many +days I could not tell.</p> + +<p>For aught I knew, the fugitive had called for +the woman's letter and left the capital. But he, +being aware that the police were in search of him, +would, I thought, if he called at the post office at +all for letters, come there after dark. Hence, I +had lost no time in mounting guard.</p> + +<p>My thoughts, as I stood there, were, indeed, bitter +and confused.</p> + +<p>The woman Petre had not, as far as I could make +out, made any incriminating statement to the +police. Yet she undoubtedly believed me to be +dead, and I reflected in triumph upon the unpleasant +surprise in store for her when we met—as meet we +undoubtedly would.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> + +<p>The amazing problem, viewed briefly, stood +thus: The girl, Marie Bracq, had been killed by a +knife with a three-cornered blade, such knife having +been and being still in the possession of Phrida, my +well-beloved, whose finger-prints were found in +the room near the body of the poor girl. The +grave and terrible suspicion resting upon Phrida +was increased and even corroborated by her firm +resolve to preserve secrecy, her admissions, and her +avowed determination to take her own life rather +than face accusation.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, there was the mystery of the +identity of Marie Bracq, the mystery of the identity +of the man who had passed as Sir Digby Kemsley, +the reason of his flight, if Phrida were guilty, +and the mystery of the woman Petre, and her +accomplices.</p> + +<p>Yes. The whole affair was one great and complete +problem, the extent of which even Edwards, +expert as he was, had, as yet, failed to discover. +The more I tried to solve it the more hopelessly +complicated did it become.</p> + +<p>I could see no light through the veil of mystery +and suspicion in which my well-beloved had +become enveloped.</p> + +<p>Why had that man—the man I now hated with +so fierce an hatred—held her in the hollow of his +unscrupulous hands? She had admitted that, +whenever he ordered her to do any action, she was +bound to obey.</p> + +<p>Yes. My love was that man's slave! I ground +my teeth when the bitter thought flashed across +my perturbed mind.</p> + +<p>Ah! what a poor, ignorant fool I had been! +And how that scoundrel must have laughed +at me!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> + +<p>I was anxious to meet him face to face—to +force from his lips the truth, to compel him to +answer to me.</p> + +<p>And with that object I waited—waited in +the cold and rain for three long hours, until +at last the great doors were closed and locked +for the night, and people ascended those steps +no longer.</p> + +<p>Then I turned away faint and disheartened, +chilled to the bone, and wearied out. A few +steps along the Boulevard brought me to +the hotel, where I ate some dinner, and retired +to my room to fling myself upon the couch +and think.</p> + +<p>Why was Phrida in such fear lest I should meet +the man who held her so mysteriously and completely +in his power? What could she fear from +our meeting if she were, as I still tried to believe, +innocent?</p> + +<p>Again, was it possible that after their dastardly +attempt upon my life, Mrs. Petre and her accomplices +had fled to join the fugitive? Were they +with him? Perhaps so! Perhaps they were there +in Brussels!</p> + +<p>The unfortunate victim, Marie Bracq, had +probably been a Belgian. Bracq was certainly a +Belgian name.</p> + +<p>The idea crossed my mind to go on the following +day to the central Police Bureau I had noticed in +the Rue de la Regence, and make inquiry whether +they knew of any person of that name to be missing. +It was not a bad suggestion, I reflected, and I felt +greatly inclined to carry it out.</p> + +<p>Next day, I was up early, but recognised the +futility of watching at the Poste Restante until the +daylight faded. On the other hand, if Mrs. Petre<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +was actually in that city, she would have no fear +to go about openly. Yet, after due consideration, +I decided not to go to the post office till twilight +set in.</p> + +<p>The morning I spent idling on the Boulevards +and in the cafés, but I became sick of such inactivity, +for I was frantically eager and anxious to +learn the truth.</p> + +<p>At noon I made up my mind, and taking a taxi, +alighted at the Préfecture of Police, where, after +some time, I was seen by the <i>Chef du Sureté</i>, a grey-haired, +dry-as-dust looking official—a narrow-eyed +little man, in black, whose name was Monsieur +Van Huffel, and who sat at a writing-table in a +rather bare room, the walls of which were painted +dark green. He eyed me with some curiosity +as I entered and bowed.</p> + +<p>"Be seated, I pray, m'sieur," he said in French, +indicating a chair on the opposite side of the table, +and leaning back, placed his fingers together in a +judicial attitude.</p> + +<p>The police functionary on the continent is possessed +of an ultra-grave demeanour, and is always +of a funereal type.</p> + +<p>"M'sieur wishes to make an inquiry, I hear?" +he began.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said. "I am very anxious to know +whether you have any report of a young person +named Marie Bracq being missing."</p> + +<p>"Marie Bracq!" he echoed in surprise, leaning +forward towards me. "And what do you know, +m'sieur, regarding Marie Bracq?"</p> + +<p>"I merely called to ascertain if any person of +that name, is reported to you as missing," I said, +much surprised at the effect which mention of the +victim had produced upon him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You are English, of course?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, m'sieur."</p> + +<p>"Well, curiously enough, only this morning I +have had a similar inquiry from your Scotland +Yard. They are asking if we are acquainted with +any person named Marie Bracq. And we are, +m'sieur," said Monsieur Van Huffel. "But first +please explain what you know of her."</p> + +<p>"I have no personal acquaintance with her," was +my reply. "I know of her—that is all. But it may +not be the same person."</p> + +<p>He opened a drawer, turned over a quantity +of papers, and a few seconds later produced a +photograph which he passed across to me.</p> + +<p>It was a half-length cabinet portrait of a girl +in a fur coat and hat. But no second glance was +needed to tell me that it was actually the picture of +the girl found murdered in London.</p> + +<p>"I see you recognise her, m'sieur," remarked +the police official in a cold, matter-of-fact tone. +"Please tell me all you know."</p> + +<p>I paused for a few seconds with the portrait in +my hand. My object was to get all the facts I +could from the functionary before me, and give +him the least information possible.</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately, I know but very little," was my +rather lame reply. "This lady was a friend of a +lady friend of mine."</p> + +<p>"An English lady was your friend—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"In London?"</p> + +<p>I nodded in the affirmative, while the shrewd little +man who was questioning me sat twiddling a pen +with his thin fingers.</p> + +<p>"And she told you of Marie Bracq? In what +circumstances?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well," I said. "It is a long story. Before I +tell you, I would like to ask you one question, +m'sieur. Have you received from Scotland Yard +the description of a man named Digby Kemsley—Sir +Digby Kemsley—who is wanted for +murder?"</p> + +<p>The dry little official with the parchment face +repeated the name, then consulting a book at his +elbow, replied:</p> + +<p>"Yes. We have circulated the description and +photograph. It is believed by your police that his +real name is Cane."</p> + +<p>"He has been in Brussels during the past few +days to my own certain knowledge," I said.</p> + +<p>"In Brussels," echoed the man seated in the +writing chair. "Where?"</p> + +<p>"Here, in your city. And I expect he is +here now."</p> + +<p>"And you know him?" asked the <i>Chef du Sureté</i>, +his eyes betraying slight excitement.</p> + +<p>"Quite well. He was my friend."</p> + +<p>"I see he is accused of murdering a woman, +name unknown, in his apartment," remarked +the official.</p> + +<p>"The name is now known—it has been discovered +by me, m'sieur. The name of the dead +girl is Marie Bracq."</p> + +<p>The little man half rose from his chair and stared +at me.</p> + +<p>"Is this the truth, m'sieur?" he cried. "Is +this man named Kemsley, or Cane, accused of the +assassination of Marie Bracq?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I replied.</p> + +<p>"But this is most astounding," the Belgian +functionary declared excitedly. "Marie Bracq +dead! Ah! it cannot be possible, m'sieur! You<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +do not know what this information means to us—what +an enormous sensation it will cause if the +press scents the truth. Tell me quickly—tell me +all you know," he urged, at the same time taking +up the telephone receiver from his table and then +listening for a second, said in a quick, impetuous +voice, "I want Inspector Frémy at once!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + +<h3>FRÉMY, OF THE SURETÉ.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">After</span> a few moments a short, stout, clean-shaven +man with a round, pleasant face, and dressed in +black, entered and bowed to his chief.</p> + +<p>He carried his soft felt hat and cane in his +hand, and seated himself at the invitation of +Van Huffel.</p> + +<p>"This is Inspector Frémy—Monsieur Edouard +Royle, of Londres," exclaimed the <i>Chef du Sureté</i>, +introducing us.</p> + +<p>The detective, the most famous police officer in +Belgium, who had been for years under Monsieur +Hennion, in Paris, and had now transferred his +services to Belgium, bowed and looked at me with +his small, inquisitive eyes.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Frémy. This gentleman has called +with regard to the case of Marie Bracq," said Van +Huffel in French.</p> + +<p>The detective was quickly interested.</p> + +<p>"She is dead—been assassinated in London," +his chief went on.</p> + +<p>Frémy stared at the speaker in surprise, and +the two men exchanged strange glances.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur tells me that the man, Sir Digby<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +Kemsley, wanted by Scotland Yard, is accused +of the murder of Marie Bracq—and, further," +added Van Huffel, "the accused has been +here in Brussels quite recently."</p> + +<p>"In Brussels?" echoed the round-faced man.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said. "He has letters addressed to +the Poste Restante in the name of Bryant." And +I spelt it as the detective carefully wrote down +the name.</p> + +<p>"He will not be difficult to find if he is still in +Brussels," declared the inspector. "We had an +inquiry from Scotland Yard asking if we had any +report concerning Marie Bracq only this morning," +he added.</p> + +<p>"It was sent to you by my friend, Inspector +Edwards, and whom I am assisting in this inquiry," +I explained.</p> + +<p>"You said that Marie Bracq was a friend +of a lady friend of yours, M'sieur Royle," +continued the <i>Chef du Sureté</i>. "Will you do +us the favour and tell us all you know concerning +the tragedy—how the young lady lost +her life?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! m'sieur," I replied, "I fear I cannot do +that. How she was killed is still a mystery. Only +within the past few hours have I been able to establish +the dead girl's identity, and only then +after narrowly escaping falling the victim of a most +dastardly plot."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you will be good enough to make a +statement of all you know, M'sieur Royle," urged +the grey-haired little man; "and if we can be +of any service in bringing the culprit to justice, +you may rely upon us."</p> + +<p>"But first, m'sieur, allow me to put observation +upon the Poste Restante?" asked Frémy, rising and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +going to the telephone, where he got on to one of +his subordinates, and gave him instructions in +Flemish, a language I do not understand.</p> + +<p>Then, when he returned to his chair, I began +to briefly relate what I knew concerning Sir Digby, +and what had occurred, as far as I knew, on that +fatal night of the sixth of January.</p> + +<p>I, of course, made no mention of the black suspicion +cast upon the woman I loved, nor of the +delivery of Digby's letter, my meeting with the +woman Petre and its exciting results.</p> + +<p>Yet had I not met that woman I should still +have been in ignorance of the identity of the +dead girl, and, besides, I would not have met +the sallow-faced Ali, or been aware of his +methods—those methods so strangely similar to +that adopted when Sir Digby Kemsley lost his +life in Peru.</p> + +<p>The two police functionaries listened very attentively +to my story without uttering a word.</p> + +<p>I had spoken of the woman Petre as being +an accomplice of the man who was a fugitive, +whereupon Frémy asked:</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose that the woman is with him?"</p> + +<p>"She has, I believe, left England, and, therefore, +in all probability, is with him."</p> + +<p>"Are there any others of the gang—for there +is, of course, a gang? Such people never act +singly."</p> + +<p>"Two other men, as far as I know. One, a young +man, who acts as servant, and the other, a tall, +copper-faced man with sleek black hair—probably +a Peruvian native. They call him Ali, and he +pretends he is a Hindu."</p> + +<p>"A Hindu!" gasped the detective. "Why, +I saw one talking to a rather stout Englishwoman<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +at the Gare du Nord yesterday evening, just before +the Orient Express left for the East!" He gave +a quick description of both the man and the woman, +and I at once said:</p> + +<p>"Yes, that was certainly Ali, and the woman was +Mrs. Petre!"</p> + +<p>"They probably left by the Orient Express!" +he cried, starting up, and crossing to his chief's +table snatched up the orange-coloured official +time table.</p> + +<p>"Ah! yes," he exclaimed, after searching a +few moments. "The Orient Express will reach +Wels, in Austria, at 2.17, no time for a telegram +to get through. No. The next stop is Vienna—the +Westbahnhof—at 6. I will wire to the Commissary +of Police to board the train, and if they are +in it, to detain them."</p> + +<p>"Excellent," remarked his chief, and, ringing a +bell, a clerk appeared and took down the official +telegram, giving the description of the woman and +her accomplice.</p> + +<p>"I suppose the fugitive Englishman is not with +them?" suggested the <i>Chef du Sureté</i>.</p> + +<p>"I did not see him at the station—or, at least, I +did not recognise anyone answering to the description," +replied the inspector; "but we may as well +add his description in the telegram and ask for an +immediate reply."</p> + +<p>Thereupon the official description of Digby, +as supplied to the Belgian police by Scotland +Yard, was translated into French and placed in the +message.</p> + +<p>After the clerk had left with it, Frémy, standing +near the window, exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"Dieu! Had I but known who they were last +night! But we may still get them. I will see the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +employée at the Poste Restante. This Monsieur +Bryant, if he receives letters, may have given an +address for them to be forwarded."</p> + +<p>After a slight pause, during which time the two +functionaries conversed in Flemish, I turned to +Van Huffel, and said:</p> + +<p>"I have related all I know, m'sieur; therefore, +I beg of you to tell me something concerning +the young person Marie Bracq. Was she +a lady?"</p> + +<p>"A lady!" he echoed with a laugh. "Most +certainly—the daughter of one of the princely +houses of Europe."</p> + +<p>"What?" I gasped. "Tell me all about her!"</p> + +<p>But the dry-as-dust little man shook his grey +head and replied:</p> + +<p>"I fear, m'sieur, in my position, I am not permitted +to reveal secrets entrusted to me. And her +identity is a secret—a great secret."</p> + +<p>"But I have discovered her identity where our +English police had failed!" I protested. "Besides, +am I not assisting you?"</p> + +<p>"Very greatly, and we are greatly indebted +to you, M'sieur Royle," he replied, with exquisite +politeness; "but it is not within my province +as <i>Chef du Sureté</i> to tell you facts which have been +revealed to me under pledge of secrecy."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps M'sieur Frémy may be able to tell me +some facts," I suggested. "Remember, I am +greatly interested in the mysterious affair."</p> + +<p>"From mere curiosity—eh?" asked Van Huffel +with a smile.</p> + +<p>"No, m'sieur," was my earnest reply. "Because +the arrest and condemnation of the assassin of +Marie Bracq means all the world to me."</p> + +<p>"How?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> + +<p>I hesitated for some moments, then, hoping to +enlist his sympathy, I told him the truth.</p> + +<p>"Upon the lady who is my promised wife rests +a grave suspicion," I said, in a low, hard voice. "I +decline to believe ill of her, or to think that she +could be guilty of a crime, or——"</p> + +<p>"Of the assassination of Marie Bracq?" interrupted +Van Huffel. "Do you suspect that? +Is there any question as to the guilt of the man +Kemsley?" he asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"No one has any suspicion of the lady in question," +I said. "Only—only from certain facts +within my knowledge and certain words which +she herself has uttered, a terrible and horrible +thought has seized me."</p> + +<p>"That Marie Bracq was killed by her hand—eh? +Ah, m'sieur, I quite understand," he said. +"And you are seeking the truth—in order to clear +the woman you love?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly. That is the truth. That is why I +am devoting all my time—all that I possess in +order to solve the mystery and get at the actual +truth."</p> + +<p>Frémy glanced at his chief, then at me.</p> + +<p>"Bien, m'sieur," exclaimed Van Huffel. "But +there is no great necessity for you to know the +actual identity of Marie Bracq. So long as you +are able to remove the stigma from the lady +in question, who is to be your wife, and to +whom you are undoubtedly devoted, what matters +whether the dead girl was the daughter of a +prince or of a rag-picker? We will assist you +in every degree in our power," he went on. +"M'sieur Frémy will question the postal clerk, +watch will be kept at the Poste Restante, at +each of the railway stations, and in various other<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +quarters, so that if any of the gang are in the city +they cannot leave it without detection——"</p> + +<p>"Except by automobile," I interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I see m'sieur possesses forethought," +he said with a smile. "Of course, they can easily +hire an automobile and run to Namur, Ghent, or +Antwerp—or even to one or other of the frontiers. +But M'sieur Frémy is in touch with all persons +who have motor-cars for hire. If they attempted +to leave by car when once their descriptions are +circulated, we should know in half an hour, while +to cross the frontier by car would be impossible." +Then, turning to the inspector, he said, "You will +see that precautions are immediately taken that if +they are here they cannot leave."</p> + +<p>"The matter is in my hands, m'sieur," answered +the great detective simply.</p> + +<p>"Then m'sieur refuses to satisfy me as to the +exact identity of Marie Bracq?" I asked Van +Huffel in my most persuasive tone.</p> + +<p>"A thousand regrets, m'sieur, but as I have +already explained, I am compelled to regard the +secret entrusted to me."</p> + +<p>"I take it that her real name is not Marie +Bracq?" I said, looking him in the face.</p> + +<p>"You are correct. It is not."</p> + +<p>"Is she a Belgian subject?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"No, m'sieur, the lady is not."</p> + +<p>"You said that a great sensation would be caused +if the press knew the truth?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I ask you to do me the favour, and +promise me absolute secrecy in this matter. If we +are to be successful in the arrest of these individuals, +then the press must know nothing—not a syllable. +Do I have your promise, M'sieur Royle?"</p> + +<p>"If you wish," I answered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And we on our part will assist you to clear +this lady who is to be your wife—but upon one +condition."</p> + +<p>"And that is what?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"That you do not seek to inquire into the real +identity of the poor young lady who has lost her life—the +lady known to you and others as Marie +Bracq," he said, looking straight into my eyes +very seriously.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> + +<h3>SHOWS EXPERT METHODS.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">It</span> being the luncheon hour, Frémy and myself +ate our meal at the highly popular restaurant, +the Taverne Joseph, close to the Bourse, where +the cooking is, perhaps, the best in Brussels +and where the cosmopolitan, who knows where +to eat, usually makes for when in the Belgian +capital.</p> + +<p>After our coffee, cigarettes, and a "triple-sec" +each, we strolled round to the General Post Office. +As we approached that long flight of granite steps I +knew so well, a poor-looking, ill-dressed man with +the pinch of poverty upon his face, and his coat +buttoned tightly against the cold, edged up to my +companion on the pavement and whispered a word, +afterwards hurrying on.</p> + +<p>"Our interesting friend has not been here +yet," the detective remarked to me. "We +will have a talk with the clerk at the Poste +Restante."</p> + +<p>Entering the great hall, busy as it is all day, +we approached the window where letters were +distributed from A to L, and where sat the same +pleasant, fair-haired man sorting letters.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Bon jour, m'sieur!" he exclaimed, when he +caught sight of Frémy. "What weather, eh?"</p> + +<p>The great detective returned his greetings, +and then putting his head further into the window +so that others should not overhear, said in +French:</p> + +<p>"I am looking for an individual, an Englishman, +name of Bryant, and am keeping watch outside. +He is wanted in England for a serious offence. +Has he been here?"</p> + +<p>"Bryant?" repeated the clerk thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Frémy, and then I spelt the +name slowly.</p> + +<p>The clerk reached his hand to the pigeon-hole +wherein were letters for callers whose names began +with B, and placing them against a little block of +black wood on the counter before him, looked eagerly +through while we watched intently.</p> + +<p>Once or twice he stopped to scrutinise an address, +but his fingers went on again through the letters +to the end.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," he remarked laconically, replacing +the packet in the pigeon-hole. "But there has been +correspondence for him. I recollect—a thin-faced +man, with grey hair and clean shaven. Yes. I +remember him distinctly. He always called just +before the office was closed."</p> + +<p>"When did he call last?" asked Frémy +quickly.</p> + +<p>"The night before last, I think," was the man's +answer. "A lady was with him—a rather stout +English lady."</p> + +<p>We both started.</p> + +<p>"Did the lady ask for any letters?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. But I forget the name."</p> + +<p>"Petre is her right name," I interrupted. Then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +I suggested to Frémy: "Ask the other clerk to look +through the letter 'P.'"</p> + +<p>"Non, m'sieur!" exclaimed the fair-haired employée. +"The name she asked for was in my division. +It was not P."</p> + +<p>"Then she must have asked for a name that +was not her own," I said.</p> + +<p>"And it seems very much as though we have lost +the gang by a few hours," Frémy said disappointedly. +"My own opinion is that they left Brussels by the +Orient Express last night. They did not call at +the usual time yesterday."</p> + +<p>"They may come this evening," I suggested.</p> + +<p>"Certainly they may. We shall, of course, +watch," he replied.</p> + +<p>"When the man and woman called the day +before yesterday," continued the employée, "there +was a second man—a dark-faced Indian with them, +I believe. He stood some distance away, and +followed them out. It was his presence which +attracted my attention and caused me to remember +the incident."</p> + +<p>Frémy exchanged looks with me. I knew he was +cursing his fate which had allowed the precious +trio to slip through his fingers.</p> + +<p>Yet the thought was gratifying that when the +express ran into the Great Westbahnhof at Vienna, +the detectives would at once search it for the +fugitives.</p> + +<p>My companion had told me that by eight o'clock +we would know the result of the enquiry, and I was +anxious for that hour to arrive.</p> + +<p>Already Frémy had ordered search to be made of +arrivals at all hotels and pensions in the city for +the name of Bryant, therefore, we could do nothing +more than possess ourselves in patience. So we left<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +the post office, his poverty-stricken assistant remaining +on the watch, just as I had watched in +the cold on the previous night.</p> + +<p>With my companion I walked round to the big +Café Metropole on the Boulevard, and over our +"bocks," at a table where we could not be overheard, +we discussed the situation.</p> + +<p>That big café, one of the principal in Brussels, is +usually deserted between the hours of three and +four. At other times it is filled with business +men discussing their affairs, or playing dominoes +with that rattle which is characteristic of the +foreign café.</p> + +<p>"Why is it," I asked him, "that your chief +absolutely refuses to betray the identity of the +girl Marie Bracq?"</p> + +<p>The round-faced man before me smiled thoughtfully +as he idly puffed his cigarette. Then, shrugging +his shoulders, he replied:</p> + +<p>"Well, m'sieur, to tell the truth, there is a very +curious complication. In connection with the +affair there is a scandal which must never be allowed +to get out to the public."</p> + +<p>"Then you know the truth—eh?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"A portion of it. Not all," he replied. "But I +tell you that the news of the young lady's death +has caused us the greatest amazement and surprise. +We knew that she was missing, but never +dreamed that she had been the victim of an +assassin."</p> + +<p>"But who are her friends?" I demanded.</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately, I am not permitted to say," +was his response. "When they know the terrible +truth they may give us permission to reveal the +truth to you. Till then, my duty is to preserve +their secret."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But I am all anxiety to know."</p> + +<p>"I quite recognise that, M'sieur Royle," he said. +"I know how I should feel were I in your position. +But duty is duty, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"I have assisted you, and I have given you a clue +to the mystery," I protested.</p> + +<p>"And we, on our part, will assist you to clear the +stigma resting upon the lady who is your promised +wife," he said. "Whatever I can do in that direction, +m'sieur may rely upon me."</p> + +<p>I was silent, for I saw that to attempt to probe +further then the mystery of the actual identity +of Marie Bracq was impossible. There seemed a +conspiracy of silence against me.</p> + +<p>But I would work myself. I would exert all +the cunning and ingenuity I possessed—nay, I would +spend every penny I had in the world—in order to +clear my well-beloved of that terrible suspicion +that by her hand this daughter of a princely house +had fallen.</p> + +<p>"Well," I asked at last. "What more can +we do?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" sighed the stout man, blowing a cloud +of cigarette smoke from his lips and drawing his +glass. "What can we do? The Poste Restante +is being watched, the records of all hotels and pensions +for the past month are being inspected, and +we have put a guard upon the Orient Express. No! +We can do nothing," he said, "until we get a telegram +from Vienna. Will you call at the Préfecture +of Police at eight o'clock to-night? I will be there +to see you."</p> + +<p>I promised, then having paid the waiter, we +strolled out of the café, and parted on the Boulevard, +he going towards the Nord Station, while I +went along in the opposite direction to the Grand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> + +<p>For the appointed hour I waited in greatest +anxiety. What if the trio had been arrested in +Vienna?</p> + +<p>That afternoon I wrote a long and encouraging +letter to Phrida, telling her that I was exerting +every effort on her behalf and urging her to keep +a stout heart against her enemies, who now seemed +to be in full flight.</p> + +<p>At last, eight o'clock came, and I entered the +small courtyard of the Préfecture of Police, where +a uniformed official conducted me up to the room +of Inspector Frémy.</p> + +<p>The big, merry-faced man rose as I entered and +placed his cigar in an ash tray.</p> + +<p>"Bad luck, m'sieur!" he exclaimed in French. +"They left Brussels in the Orient, as I suspected—all +three of them. Here is the reply," and he handed +me an official telegram in German, which translated +into English read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"To Préfet of Police, Brussels, from Préfet +of Police, Vienna:</p> + +<p>"In response to telegram of to-day's date, the +three persons described left Brussels by Orient +Express, travelled to Wels, and there left the +train at 2.17 this afternoon. Telephonic inquiry +of police at Wels results that they left at 4.10 by +the express for Paris."</p></div> + +<p>"I have already telegraphed to Paris," Frémy +said. "But there is time, of course, to get across +to Paris, and meet the express from Constantinople +on its arrival there. Our friends evidently know +their way about the Continent!"</p> + +<p>"Shall we go to Paris," I suggested eagerly, anticipating +in triumph their arrest as they alighted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +at the Gare de l'Est. I had travelled by the express +from Vienna on one occasion about a year before, +and remembered that it arrived in Paris about nine +o'clock in the morning.</p> + +<p>"With the permission of my chief I will willingly +accompany you, m'sieur," replied the detective, and, +leaving me, he was absent for five minutes or +so, while I sat gazing around his bare, official-looking +bureau, where upon the walls were many police +notices and photographs of wanted persons, "rats +d'hotel," and other malefactors. Brussels is one of +the most important police centres in Europe, as +well as being the centre of the political secret service +of the Powers.</p> + +<p>On his return he said:</p> + +<p>"Bien, m'sieur. We leave the Midi Station at +midnight and arrive in Paris at half-past five. +I will engage sleeping berths, and I will telephone +to my friend, Inspector Dricot, at the Préfecture, +to send an agent of the brigade mobile to meet us. +Non d'un chien! What a surprise it will be for the +fugitives. But," he added, "they are clever and +elusive. Fancy, in order to go from Brussels to +Paris they travel right away into Austria, and +with through tickets to Belgrade, too! Yes, +they know the routes on the Continent—the +routes used by the international thieves, I mean. +The Wels route by which they travelled, is one of +them."</p> + +<p>Then I left him, promising to meet him at the +station ten minutes before midnight. I had told +Edwards I would notify him by wire any change +of address, therefore, on leaving the Préfecture of +Police, I went to the Grand and from there sent +a telegram to him at Scotland Yard, telling him +that I should call at the office of the inspector of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +police at the East railway station in Paris at ten +on the following morning—if he had anything +to communicate.</p> + +<p>All through that night we travelled on in the +close, stuffy <i>wagon-lit</i> by way of Mons to Paris +arriving with some three hours and a half to spare, +which we idled in one of the all-night cafés near +the station, having been met by a little ferret-eyed +Frenchman, named Jappé, who had been +one of Frémy's subordinates when he was in the +French service.</p> + +<p>Just before nine o'clock, after our <i>café-au-lait</i> in +the buffet, we walked out upon the long arrival +platform where the Orient Express from its long +journey from Constantinople was due.</p> + +<p>It was a quarter of an hour late, but at length +the luggage porters began to assemble, and with +bated breath I watched the train of dusty sleeping-cars +slowly draw into the terminus.</p> + +<p>In a moment Frémy and his colleague were all +eyes, while I stood near the engine waiting the +result of their quest.</p> + +<p>But in five minutes the truth was plain. Frémy +was in conversation with one of the brown-uniformed +conductors, who told him that the three passengers +we sought did join at Wels, but had left again +at Munich on the previous evening!</p> + +<p>My heart sank. Our quest was in vain. They +had again eluded us!</p> + +<p>"I will go to Munich," Frémy said at once. "I +may find trace of them yet."</p> + +<p>"And I will accompany you!" I exclaimed eagerly. +"They must not escape us."</p> + +<p>But my plans were at once altered, and Frémy +was compelled to leave for Germany alone, for at +the police office at the station half an hour later<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +I received a brief message from Edwards urging me +to return to London immediately, and stating that +an important discovery had been made.</p> + +<p>So I drove across to the Gare du Nord, and left +for London by the next train.</p> + +<p>What, I wondered, had been discovered?</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> + +<h3>EDWARDS BECOMES MORE PUZZLED.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">At</span> half-past seven on that same evening, Edwards, +in response to a telegram I sent him from Calais, +called upon me in Albemarle Street.</p> + +<p>He looked extremely grave when he entered my +room. After Haines had taken his hat and coat +and we were alone, he said in a low voice:</p> + +<p>"Mr. Royle, I have a rather painful communication +to make to you. I much regret it—but the +truth must be faced."</p> + +<p>"Well?" I asked, in quick apprehension; "what +is it?"</p> + +<p>"We have received from an anonymous correspondent—who +turns out to be the woman Petre, +whom you know—a letter making the gravest accusations +against Miss Shand. She denounces her +as the assassin of the girl Marie Bracq."</p> + +<p>"It's a lie! a foul, abominable lie!" I cried +angrily. "I told you that she would seek to condemn +the woman I love."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I recollect. But it is a clue which I am +in duty bound to investigate."</p> + +<p>"You have not been to Miss Shand—you have +not yet questioned her?" I gasped anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Not before I saw you," he replied. "I may as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +well tell you at once that I had some slight suspicion +that the young lady in question was acquainted +with your friend who posed as Sir Digby."</p> + +<p>"How?" I asked.</p> + +<p>He hesitated. "Well, I thought it most likely +that as you and he were such great friends, you +might have introduced them," he said, rather lamely.</p> + +<p>"But surely you are not going to believe the +words of this woman Petre?" I cried. "Listen, +and I will tell you how she has already endeavoured +to take my life, and thus leave Miss Shand at +her mercy."</p> + +<p>Then, as he sat listening, his feet stretched towards +the fender, I related in detail the startling +adventure which befel me at Colchester.</p> + +<p>"Extraordinary, Mr. Royle!" he exclaimed, in +blank surprise. "Why, in heaven's name, didn't +you tell me this before! The snake! Why, that +is exactly the method used by Cane to secure the +death of the real Sir Digby!"</p> + +<p>"What was the use of telling you?" I queried. +"What is the use even now? The woman has fled +and, at the same time, takes a dastardly revenge +upon the woman I love."</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Mr. Royle," said the inspector, who, +in his dinner coat and black tie, presented the +appearance of the West End club man rather than +a police official. "Have you yourself any suspicion +that Miss Shand has knowledge of the affair?"</p> + +<p>His question non-plussed me for the moment.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I see you hesitate!" he exclaimed, +shrewdly. "You have a suspicion—now admit it."</p> + +<p>He pressed me, and seeing that my demeanour +had, alas! betrayed my thoughts, I was compelled +to speak the truth.</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, in a low, strained voice. "To<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> +tell you the truth, Edwards, there are certain facts +which I am utterly unable to understand—facts +which Miss Shand has admitted to me. But I +still refuse to believe that she is a murderess."</p> + +<p>"Naturally," he remarked, and I thought I +detected a slightly sarcastic curl of the lips. "But +though Miss Shand is unaware of it, I have made +certain secret inquiries—inquiries which have given +astounding results," he said slowly. "I have, +unknown to the young lady, secured some of her +finger-prints, which, on comparison, have coincided +exactly with those found upon the glass-topped +table at Harrington Gardens, and also +with those which you brought to me so mysteriously." +And he added, "To be quite frank, it +was that action of yours which first aroused my +suspicion regarding Miss Shand. I saw that you +suspected some one—that you were trying to prove to +your own satisfaction that your theory was wrong."</p> + +<p>I held my breath, cursing myself for such +injudicious action.</p> + +<p>"Again, this letter from the woman Petre has +corroborated my apprehensions," he went on. +"Miss Shand was a friend of the man who called +himself Sir Digby. She met him clandestinely, +unknown, to you—eh?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Please do not question me, Edwards," I implored. +"This is all so extremely painful to me."</p> + +<p>"I regret, but it is my duty, Mr. Royle," +he replied in a tone of sympathy. "Is not my +suggestion the true one?"</p> + +<p>I admitted that it was.</p> + +<p>Then, in quick, brief sentences I told him of my +visit to the Préfecture of Police in Brussels and +all that I had discovered regarding the fugitives, to +which he listened most attentively.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They have not replied to my inquiry concerning +the dead girl Marie Bracq," he remarked +presently.</p> + +<p>"They know her," I replied. "Van Huffel, +the <i>Chef du Sureté</i>, stood aghast when I told him that +the man Kemsley was wanted by you on a charge +of murdering her. He declared that the allegation +utterly astounded him, and that the press must +have no suspicion of the affair, as a great scandal +would result."</p> + +<p>"But who is the girl?" he inquired quickly.</p> + +<p>"Van Huffel refused to satisfy my curiosity. +He declared that her identity was a secret which +he was not permitted to divulge, but he added +when I pressed him, that she was a daughter of +one of the princely houses of Europe!"</p> + +<p>Edwards stared at me.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what is her real name?" he said, +reflectively. "Really, Mr. Royle, the affair grows +more and more interesting and puzzling."</p> + +<p>"It does," I said, and then I related in detail +my fruitless journey to Paris, and how the three +fugitives had alighted at Munich from the westbound +express from the Near East, and disappeared.</p> + +<p>"Frémy, whom I think you know, has gone +after them," I added.</p> + +<p>"If Frémy once gets on the scent he'll, no doubt, +find them," remarked my companion. "He's one +of the most astute and clever detectives in Europe. +So, if the case is in his hands, I'm quite contented +that all will be done to trace them."</p> + +<p>For two hours we sat together, while I related +what the girl at Melbourne House had told me, +and, in fact, put before him practically all that I +have recorded in the foregoing pages.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then, at last, I stood before him boldly and asked:</p> + +<p>"In face of all this, can you suspect Miss Shand? +Is she not that man's victim?"</p> + +<p>He did not speak for several moments; his gaze +was fixed upon the fire.</p> + +<p>"Well," he replied, stirring himself at last, "to +tell you the truth, Mr. Royle, I'm just as puzzled +as you are. She may be the victim of this man we +know to be an unscrupulous adventurer, but, at the +same time, her hand may have used that triangular-bladed +knife which we have been unable to find."</p> + +<p>The knife! I held my breath. Was it not lying +openly upon that table in the corner of the drawing-room +at Cromwell Road? Would not analysis +reveal upon it a trace of human blood? Would +not its possession in itself convict her?</p> + +<p>"Then what is your intention?" I asked, at last.</p> + +<p>"To see her and put a few questions, Mr. Royle," +he answered slowly. "I know how much this must +pain you, bearing in mind your deep affection for the +young lady, but, unfortunately, it is my duty, and +I cannot see how such a course can be avoided."</p> + +<p>"No. I beg of you not to do this," I implored. +"Keep what observation you like, but do not +approach her—at least, not yet. In her present +frame of mind, haunted by the shadow of the crime +and hemmed in by suspicion of which she cannot +clear herself, it would be fatal."</p> + +<p>"Fatal! I don't understand you."</p> + +<p>"Well—she would take her own life," I said in +a low whisper.</p> + +<p>"She has threatened—eh?" he asked.</p> + +<p>I nodded in the affirmative.</p> + +<p>"Then does not that, in itself, justify my decision +to see and question her?"</p> + +<p>"No, it does not!" I protested. "She is not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> +guilty, but this terrible dread and anxiety is, I know, +gradually unbalancing her brain. She is a girl +of calm determination, and if she believed that +you suspected her she would be driven by sheer +terror to carry out her threat."</p> + +<p>He smiled.</p> + +<p>"Most women threaten suicide at one time or +other of their lives. Their thoughts seem to revert +to romance as soon as they find themselves in a +corner. No," he added. "I never believe in threats +of suicide in either man or woman. Life is always +too precious for that, and especially if a woman +loves, as she does."</p> + +<p>"You don't know her."</p> + +<p>"No, but I know women, Mr. Royle—I know +all their idiosyncrasies as well as most men, I think," +he said.</p> + +<p>I begged him not to approach my well-beloved, +but he was inexorable.</p> + +<p>"I must see her—and I must know the truth," +he declared decisively.</p> + +<p>But I implored again of him, begging him to +spare her—begged her life.</p> + +<p>I had gripped him by the hand, and looking into +his face I pointed out that I had done and was +doing all I could to elucidate the mystery.</p> + +<p>"At least," I cried, "you will wait until the +fugitives are arrested!"</p> + +<p>"There is only one—the impostor," he said. +"There is no charge against the others."</p> + +<p>"Then I will lay a charge to-night against the +woman Petre and the man Ali of attempting to kill +me." I said. "The two names can then be added +to the warrant."</p> + +<p>"Very well," he said. "We'll go to the Yard, +and I will take your information."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And you will not approach Phrida until you +hear something from Brussels—eh?" I asked +persuasively. "In the meantime, I will do all I +can. Leave Miss Shand to me."</p> + +<p>"If I did it would be a grave dereliction of duty," +he replied slowly.</p> + +<p>"But is it a dereliction of duty to disregard +allegations made by a woman who has fled in that +man's company, and who is, we now know, his +accomplice?" I protested. "Did not you yourself +tell me that you, at Scotland Yard, always regarded +lightly any anonymous communication?"</p> + +<p>"As a rule we do. But past history shows +that many have been genuine," he said. "Before +the commission of nearly all the Jack the Ripper +crimes there were anonymous letters, written in +red ink. We have them now framed and hanging +up in the Black Museum."</p> + +<p>"But such letters are not denunciations. They +were promises of a further sensation," I argued. +"The triumphant and gleeful declarations of the +mad but mysterious assassin. No. Promise me, +Edwards, that you will postpone this projected +step of yours, which can, in any case, even though +my love be innocent, only result in dire disaster."</p> + +<p>He saw how earnest was my appeal, and realised, +I think, the extreme gravity of the situation, and +how deeply it concerned me. He seemed, also, +to recognise that in discovering the name of the +victim and in going a second time to Brussels, I +had been able to considerably advance the most +difficult inquiry; therefore, after still another +quarter of an hour of persuasion, I induced him +to withhold.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he replied, "though I can make no +definite promise, Mr. Royle. I will not see the lady<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +before I have again consulted with you. But," +he added, "I must be frank with you. I shall +continue my investigations in that quarter, and +most probably watch will be kept upon her +movements."</p> + +<p>"And if she recognises that you suspect her?" +I gasped.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he exclaimed, with a slight shrug of the +shoulders. "I cannot accept any responsibility +for that. How can I?"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> + +<h3>FURTHER ADMISSIONS.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2">"<span class="smcap">The</span> secret of Digby Kemsley is still a secret, +and will ever remain a secret."</p> + +<p>I recollected Mrs. Petre uttering those words to me +as that dark-faced villain Ali had forced my inert +head down upon the table.</p> + +<p>Well, that same night when I had begged of +Edwards my love's life, I sat in his room at Scotland +Yard and there made a formal declaration of what +had happened to me on that well-remembered +night outside Colchester. I formally demanded +the arrest of the woman, of Ali, and of the young +man-servant, all of whom had conspired to take +my life.</p> + +<p>The clerk calmly took down my statement, which +Edwards read over to me, and I duly signed it.</p> + +<p>Then, gripping his hand, I went forth into Parliament +Street, and took a taxi to Cromwell Road.</p> + +<p>I had not seen Phrida for several days, and she +was delighted at my visit.</p> + +<p>She presented a pale, frail, little figure in her +simple gown of pale pink ninon, cut slightly open +at the neck and girdled narrow with turquoise<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> +blue. Her skirt was narrow, as was the mode, and +her long white arms were bare to the shoulders.</p> + +<p>She had been curled up before the fire reading +when I entered, but she jumped up with an +expression of welcome upon her lips.</p> + +<p>But not until her mother had bade me good-night +and discreetly withdrew, did she refer to the subject +which I knew obsessed her by night and by day.</p> + +<p>"Well, Teddy," she asked, when I sat alone +with her upon the pale green silk-covered couch, +her little hand in mine, "Where have you been? +Why have you remained silent?"</p> + +<p>"I've been in Brussels," I replied, and then, +quite frankly, I explained my quest after the +impostor.</p> + +<p>She sat looking straight before her, her eyes +fixed like a person, in a dream. At last she spoke:</p> + +<p>"I thought," she said in a strained voice, "that +you would have shown greater respect for me than +to do that—when you knew it would place you in +such great peril!"</p> + +<p>"I have acted in your own interests, dearest," +I replied, placing my arm tenderly about her neck. +"Ah! in what manner you will never know."</p> + +<p>"My interests!" she echoed, in despair. "Have +I not told you that on the day Digby Kemsley +is arrested I intend to end my life," and as she +drew a long breath, I saw in her eyes that haunted, +terrified look which told me that she was +driven to desperation.</p> + +<p>"No, no," I urged, stroking her hair with tenderness. +"I know all that you must suffer, Phrida, +but I am your friend and your protector. I will +never rest until I get at the truth."</p> + +<p>"Ah! Revelation of the truth will, alas! prove +my undoing!" she whispered, in a voice full of fear.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +"You don't know, dear, how your relentless chase +of that man is placing me in danger."</p> + +<p>"But he is an adventurer, an impostor—a fugitive +from justice, and he merits punishment!" I cried.</p> + +<p>"Ah! And if you say that," she cried, wildly +starting to her feet. "So do I! So do I!"</p> + +<p>"Come, calm yourself, dearest," I said, placing +my hand upon her shoulder and forcing her back +into her chair. "You are upset to-night," and I +kissed her cold, white lips. "May I ring for +Mallock? Wouldn't you like to go to your +room?"</p> + +<p>She drew a deep sigh, and with an effort repressed +the tears welling in her deep-set, haunted eyes.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she faltered in her emotion. "Perhaps +I had better. I—I cannot bear this strain much +longer. You told me that the police did not suspect +me, but—but, now I know they do. A man has +been watching outside the house all day for two +days past. Yes," she sobbed, "they will come, +come to arrest me, but they will only find that—that +I've cheated them!"</p> + +<p>"They will not come," I answered her. "I +happen to know more than I can tell you, Phrida," +I whispered. "You need have no fear of +arrest."</p> + +<p>"But that woman Petre! She may denounce +me—she will, I know!"</p> + +<p>"They take no notice of such allegations at +Scotland Yard. They receive too much wild +correspondence," I declared. "No, dearest, go to +bed and rest—rest quite assured that at present +you are in no peril, and, further, that every hour +which elapses brings us nearer a solution of the +tragic and tantalising problem. May I ring for +Mallock?" I asked, again kissing her passionately<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +upon those lips, hard and cold as marble, my +heart full of sympathy for her in her tragic +despair.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she responded faintly in a voice so low that +I could hardly catch it. So I crossed and rang +the bell for her maid.</p> + +<p>Then, when she had kissed me good-night, looking +into my eyes with a strange expression of wistfulness, +and left the room, I dashed across to +that little table whereon the ivory-hilted knife was +lying and seized the important piece of evidence, +so that it might not fall into Edwards' hands.</p> + +<p>I held it within my fingers, and taking it across +to the fireplace, examined it in the strong light. +The ivory was yellow and old, carved with the +escutcheon bearing the three balls, the arms of the +great House of Medici. The blade, about seven +inches long, was keen, triangular, and, at the point, +sharp as a needle. Into it the rust of centuries had +eaten, though in parts it was quite bright, evidently +due to recent cleaning.</p> + +<p>I was examining it for any stains that might be +upon it—stains of the life-blood of Marie Bracq. +But I could find none. No. They had been +carefully removed, yet chemical analysis would, +without doubt, reveal inevitable traces of the +ghastly truth.</p> + +<p>I had my back to the door, and was still holding +the deadly weapon in my hand, scrutinising it +closely, when I heard a slight movement behind +me, and turning, confronted Phrida, standing erect +and rigid, like a statue.</p> + +<p>Her face was white as death, her thin hands +clenched, her haunted eyes fixed upon me.</p> + +<p>"Ah! I see!" she cried hoarsely. "You know—eh? +You <i>know</i>!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No. I do not <i>know</i>, Phrida," was my deep +reply, as I snatched her hand and held it in my +own. "I only surmise that this knife was used +on that fatal night, because of the unusual shape +of its blade—because of the medical evidence that +by such a knife Marie Bracq was killed."</p> + +<p>She drew a deep breath.</p> + +<p>"And you are taking it as evidence—against +me!"</p> + +<p>"Evidence against you, darling!" I echoed in +reproach. "Do you think that I, the man who +loves you, is endeavouring to convict you of a +crime? No. Leave matters to me. I am your +friend—not your enemy!"</p> + +<p>A silence fell between us. She neither answered +nor did she move for some moments. Then she +said in a deep wistful tone:</p> + +<p>"Ah! if I could only believe that you are!"</p> + +<p>"But I am," I declared vehemently. "I love you, +Phrida, with all my soul, and I will never believe ill +of you—never, never!"</p> + +<p>"How can you do otherwise in these terrible +circumstances?" she queried, with a strange contraction +of her brows.</p> + +<p>"I love you, and because I love you so dearly—because +you are all the world to me," I said, pressing +her to my heart, "I will never accept what an +enemy may allege—never, until you are permitted +to relate your own story."</p> + +<p>I still held the weapon in my hand, and I saw that +her eyes wandered to it.</p> + +<p>"Ah! Teddy!" she cried, with sudden emotion. +"How can I thank you sufficiently for those words? +Take that horrible thing and hide it—hide it anywhere +from my eyes, for sight of it brings all the +past back to me. Yet—yet I was afraid," she went<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> +on, "I dare not hide it, lest any one should ask what +had become of it, and thus suspicions might be +aroused. Ah! every time I have come into this +room it has haunted me—I seem to see that terrible +scene before my eyes—how—how they——"</p> + +<p>But she broke off short, and covering her face +with both hands added, after a few seconds' +silence:</p> + +<p>"Ah! yes, take it away—never let me gaze +upon it again. But I beg of you, dear, to—to +preserve my secret—my terrible secret!"</p> + +<p>And she burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"Not a single word shall pass my lips, neither +shall a single soul see this knife. I will take it +and cast it away—better to the bottom of the +Thames. To-night it shall be in a place where it +can never be found. So go to your room, and rest +assured that you, darling, have at least one friend—myself."</p> + +<p>I felt her breast heave and fall as I held her in +my strong embrace.</p> + +<p>Then without words she raised her white, tear-stained +face and kissed me long and fondly; afterwards +she left me, and in silence tottered from the +room, closing the door after her.</p> + +<p>I still held the knife in my hand—the weapon +by which the terrible deed had been perpetrated.</p> + +<p>What could I think? What would you, my +reader, have thought if the woman you love stood in +the same position as Phrida Shand—which God +forbid?</p> + +<p>I stood reflecting, gazing upon the antique poignard. +Then slowly and deliberately I made up +my mind, and placing the unsheathed knife in +my breast pocket I went out into the hall, put +on my coat and hat, and left the house.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> + +<p>Half an hour later I halted casually upon Westminster +Bridge, and when no one was near, cast +the ancient "Misericordia" into the dark +flowing waters of the river, knowing that Edwards +and his inquisitive assistants could never recover +it as evidence against my love.</p> + +<p>Four days later I received a letter from Frémy, +dated from the Hotel National at Strasbourg, +stating that he had traced the fugitives from Munich +to the latter city, but there he had lost all trace of +them. He believed they had gone to Paris, and +with his chief's permission he was leaving for the +French capital that night.</p> + +<p>Weeks passed—weeks of terror and apprehension +for my love, and of keenest anxiety for myself.</p> + +<p>The month of May went by, spring with all her +beauties appeared in the parks and faded in the +heat and dust, while the London season commenced. +Men who were otherwise never seen in town, strolled +up and down St. James's Street and Piccadilly, +smart women rode in the Row in the morning and +gave parties at night, while the usual crop of charitable +functions, society scandals, Parliamentary +debates, and puff-paragraphs in the papers about +Lady Nobody's dances showed the gay world +of London to be in full swing.</p> + +<p>My mantelshelf was well decorated with cards +of invitation, for, nowadays, the bachelor in London +can have a really good time if he chooses, yet I +accepted few, spending most of my days immersed +in business—in order to occupy my thoughts—while +my evenings I spent at Cromwell Road.</p> + +<p>For weeks Phrida had not referred to the tragedy +in any way, and I had been extremely careful to +avoid the subject. Yet, from her pale, drawn countenance—so +unlike her former self—I knew how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> +recollection of it ever haunted her, and what dread +terror had gripped her young heart.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Shand, ignorant of the truth, had many +times expressed to me confidentially, fear that her +daughter was falling into a bad state of health; +and, against Phrida's wishes, had called in the +family doctor, who, likewise ignorant, had ordered +her abroad.</p> + +<p>"Get her out of the dullness of this road, Mrs. +Shand," he had said. "She wants change and +excitement. Take her to some gay place on the +Continent—Dinard, Trouville, Aix-les-Bains, Ostend—some +place where there is brightness and +movement. A few weeks there will effect a great +change in her, I'm certain."</p> + +<p>But Phrida refused to leave London, though I +begged her to follow the doctor's advice, and even +offered to accompany them.</p> + +<p>As far as I could gather, Van Huffel, in Brussels, +had given up the search for the fugitives; though, +the more I reflected upon his replies to my questions +as to the real identity of Marie Bracq, the +more remarkable they seemed.</p> + +<p>Who was she? That was the great problem +uppermost always in my mind. Phrida had declared +that she only knew her by that name—that +she knew nothing further concerning +her. And so frankly had she said this, that I +believed her.</p> + +<p>Yet I argued that, if the death of Marie Bracq +was of such serious moment as the <i>Chef du Sureté</i> +had declared, then he surely would not allow the +inquiry to drop without making the most strenuous +efforts to arrest those suspected of the crime.</p> + +<p>But were his suspicions, too, directed towards +Phrida? Had he, I wondered, been in consultation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +with Edwards, and had the latter, in confidence, +revealed to him his own theory?</p> + +<p>I held my breath each time that idea crossed +my mind—as it did so very often.</p> + +<p>From Frémy I had had several letters dated from +the Préfecture of Police, Brussels, but the tenor +of all was the same—nothing to report.</p> + +<p>One thing gratified me. Edwards had not approached +my love, although I knew full well, just +as Phrida did, that day after day observation was +being kept upon the house in Cromwell Road, yet +perhaps only because the detective's duty demanded +it. At least I tried to think so.</p> + +<p>Still the one fact remained that, after all our +efforts—the efforts of Scotland Yard, of the Belgian +police, and of my own eager inquiries—a solution of +the problem was as far off as ever.</p> + +<p>Somewhere there existed a secret—a secret that, +as Phrida had declared to me, was inviolable.</p> + +<p>Would it ever be revealed? Would the ghastly +truth ever be laid bare?</p> + +<p>The affair of Harrington Gardens was indeed a +mystery of London—as absolute and perfect an +enigma of crime as had ever been placed before that +committee of experts at Scotland Yard—the Council +of Seven.</p> + +<p>Even they had failed to find a solution! How, +then, could I ever hope to be successful?</p> + +<p>When I thought of it, I paced my lonely room +in a frenzy of despair.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> + +<h3>THE SELLER OF SHAWLS.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">After</span> much eloquent persuasion on my part, and +much straight talking on the part of the spectacled +family doctor, and of Mrs. Shand, Phrida at last, +towards the last days of June, allowed us to take +her to Dinard, where, at the Hotel Royal, we spent +three pleasant weeks, making many automobile +excursions to Trouville, to Dinan, and other places +in the neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>The season had scarcely commenced, nevertheless +the weather was perfect, and gradually I had the +satisfaction of seeing the colour return to the soft +cheeks of my well-beloved.</p> + +<p>Before leaving London I had, of course, seen +Edwards, and, knowing that watch was being kept +upon her, I accepted the responsibility of reporting +daily upon my love's movements, she being still +under suspicion.</p> + +<p>"I ought not to do this, Mr. Royle," he had +said, "but the circumstances are so unusual that I +feel I may stretch a point in the young lady's favour +without neglecting my duty. And after all," he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> +added, "we have no direct evidence—at least not +sufficient to justify an arrest."</p> + +<p>"Why doesn't that woman Petre come forward +and boldly make her statement personally?" I +had queried.</p> + +<p>"Well, she may know that you are still alive"—he +laughed—"and if so—she's afraid to go further."</p> + +<p>I questioned him regarding his inquiries concerning +the actual identity of Marie Bracq, but he only +raised his eyebrows and replied:</p> + +<p>"My dear Mr. Royle, I know nothing more than +you do. They no doubt possess some information +in Brussels, but they are careful to keep it there."</p> + +<p>And so I had accompanied Phrida and her mother, +hoping that the change of air and scenery might +cause her to forget the shadow of guilt which now +seemed to rest upon her and to crush all life and +hope from her young heart.</p> + +<p>Tiring of Dinard, Mrs. Shand hired a big, grey +touring-car, and together we went first through +Brittany, then to Vannes, Nantes, and up to Tours, +afterwards visiting the famous chateaux of Touraine, +Amboise Loches, and the rest, the weather being +warm and delightful, and the journey one of the +pleasantest and most picturesque in Europe.</p> + +<p>When July came, Phrida appeared greatly improved +in both health and spirits. Yet was it only +pretence? Did she in the lonely watches of the night +still suffer that mental torture which I knew, alas! +she had suffered, for her own deep-set eyes, and pale, +sunken cheeks had revealed to me the truth. Each +time I sat down and wrote that confidential note +to Edwards, I hated myself—that I was set to +spy upon the woman I loved with all my heart +and soul.</p> + +<p>Would the truth never be told? Would the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +mystery of that tragic January night in South +Kensington never be elucidated?</p> + +<p>One evening in the busy but pleasant town of +Tours, Mrs. Shand having complained of headache +after a long, all-day excursion in the car, Phrida +and I sauntered out after dinner, and after a brief +walk sat down outside one of those big cafés where +the tables are placed out beneath the leafy chestnut +trees of the boulevard.</p> + +<p>The night was hot and stifling, and as we sat +there chatting over our coffee amid a crowd of +people enjoying the air after the heat of the day, +a dark-faced, narrow-eyed Oriental in a fez, with a +number of Oriental rugs and cheap shawls, came and +stood before us, in the manner of those itinerant +vendors who haunt Continental cafés.</p> + +<p>He said nothing, but, standing like a bronze +statue, he looked hard at me and pointed solemnly +at a quantity of lace which he held in his left hand.</p> + +<p>"No, I want nothing," I replied in French, +shaking my head.</p> + +<p>"Ve-ry cheep, sare!" he exclaimed in broken +English at last. "You no buy for laidee?" and +he showed his white teeth with a pleasant grin.</p> + +<p>I again replied in the negative, perhaps a little +impatiently, when suddenly Phrida whispered to me:</p> + +<p>"Why, we saw this same man in Dinard, and in +another place—I forget where. He haunts us!"</p> + +<p>"These men go from town to town," I explained. +"They make a complete round of France."</p> + +<p>Then I suddenly recollected that the man's face +was familiar. I had seen him outside the Piccadilly +Tube Station on the night of my tryst with +Mrs. Petre!</p> + +<p>"Yes, laidee!" exclaimed the man, who had overheard +Phrida's words. "I see you Dinard—Hotel<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +Royal—eh?" he said with a smile. "Will you +buy my lace—seelk lace; ve-ry cheep?"</p> + +<p>"I know it's cheap," I laughed; "but we don't +want it."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, he placed it upon the little marble-topped +table for our inspection, and then bending, +he whispered into my ear a question:</p> + +<p>"Mee-ster Royle you—eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, starting.</p> + +<p>"I want see you, to-night, alone. Say no-ting to +laidee till I see you—outside your hotel eleven +o'clock, sare—eh?"</p> + +<p>I sat staring at him in blank surprise, but in a +low voice I consented.</p> + +<p>Then, very cleverly he asked in his normal voice, +looking at me with his narrow eyes, with dark +brows meeting:</p> + +<p>"You no buy at that price—eh? Ah!" and he +sighed as he gathered up his wares: "Cheep, laidee—very +goot and cheep!"</p> + +<p>And bowing, he slung them upon the heavy pile +already on his shoulder and stalked away.</p> + +<p>"What did he say?" Phrida asked when he +had gone.</p> + +<p>"Oh, only wanted me to buy the lot for five +francs!" I replied, for he had enjoined secrecy, and +I knew not but he might be an emissary of Frémy +or of Edwards. Therefore I deemed it best for the +time to evade her question.</p> + +<p>Still, both excited and puzzled, I eagerly kept +the appointment.</p> + +<p>When I emerged from the hotel on the stroke of +eleven I saw the man without his pile of merchandise +standing in the shadow beneath a tree, on the +opposite side of the boulevard, awaiting me.</p> + +<p>Quickly I crossed to him, and asked:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, what do you want with me?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, Mee-ster Royle! I have watched you and the +young laidee a long time. You travel so quickly, +and I go by train from town to town—slowly."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but why?" I asked, as we strolled +together under the trees.</p> + +<p>"I want to tell you some-zing, mee-ster. I no +Arabe—I Senos, from Huacho."</p> + +<p>"From Huacho!" I gasped quickly.</p> + +<p>"Yees. My dead master he English—Sir Digby +Kemsley!"</p> + +<p>"Sir Digby!" I cried. "And you were his +servant. You knew this man Cane—why, you were +the man who heard your master curse the man +who placed the deadly reptile against his face. You +made a statement to the police, did you not?" I +asked frantically.</p> + +<p>"Yees, Mee-ster Royle—I did! I know a lot," +he replied in his slow way, stalking along in the +short breeches, red velvet jacket, and fez of an +Oriental.</p> + +<p>"You will tell me, Senos?" I said. "You will +tell me everything?" I urged. "Tell me all that +you know!"</p> + +<p>He grinned in triumph, saying:</p> + +<p>"I know a lot—I know all. Cane killed my +master—killed him with the snake—he and Luis +together. I know—I saw. But the Englishman is +always great, and his word believed by the commissary +of police—not the word of Senos. Oh, no! but +I have followed; I have watched. I have been +beside Cane night and day when he never dream I +was near. I tell the young lady all the truth, and—ah!—she +tell him after I beg her to be silent."</p> + +<p>"But where is Cane now?" I asked eagerly. +"Do you know?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The 'Red' Englishman—he with Madame +Petre and Luis—he call himself Ali, the Indian."</p> + +<p>"Where? Can you take me to them?" I asked. +"You know there is a warrant out for their arrest?"</p> + +<p>"I know—but——"</p> + +<p>"But what?" I cried.</p> + +<p>"No, not yet. I wait," he laughed. "I know +every-ting. He kill my master; I kill him. My +master be very good master."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know he was," I said.</p> + +<p>"That man Cane—very bad man. Your poor +young laidee—ah? She not know me. I know +her. You no say you see me—eh? I tell every-ting +later. You go Ostend; I meet you. Then we see +them."</p> + +<p>"At Ostend!" I cried. "Are they there?"</p> + +<p>"You go Ostend to-morrow. Tell me your hotel. +Senos come—eh? Senos see them with you. Oh! +Oh!" he said in his quaint way, grinning from ear +to ear.</p> + +<p>I looked at the curious figure beside me. He was +the actual man who had heard the dying cries of +Sir Digby Kemsley.</p> + +<p>"But, tell me," I urged, "have you been in +London? Do you know that a young lady died in +Cane's apartment—was killed there?"</p> + +<p>"Senos knows," he laughed grimly. "Senos has +not left him—ah, no! He kill my master. I never +leave him till I crush him—never!"</p> + +<p>"Then you know, of what occurred at Harrington +Gardens?" I repeated.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Senos know. He tell in Ostend when we +meet," he replied. "You go to-morrow, eh?" and +he looked at me anxiously with those dark, rather +blood-shot eyes of his.</p> + +<p>"I will go to-morrow," I answered without hesita<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>tion; +and, taking out my wallet I gave him three +notes of a hundred francs each, saying:</p> + +<p>"This will pay your fare. I will go straight to +the Grand Hotel, on the Digue. You will meet me +there."</p> + +<p>"And the laidee—eh? She must be there too."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Shand will be with me," I said.</p> + +<p>"Good, sare—very good!" he replied, thrusting +the notes into the inner pocket of his red velvet +jacket. "I get other clothes—these only to sell +things," and he smiled.</p> + +<p>I tried to induce him to tell me more, but he +refused, saying:</p> + +<p>"At Ostend Senos show you. He tell you all +he know—he tell the truth about the 'Red' +Englishman."</p> + +<p>And presently, after he had refused the drink I +offered him, the Peruvian, who was earning his +living as an Arab of North Africa, bowed with +politeness and left me, saying:</p> + +<p>"I meet you, Mee-ster Royle, at Grand Hotel in +Ostend. But be careful neither of you seen. They +are sharp, clever, alert—oh, ve-ry! We leave +to-morrow—eh? Good!"</p> + +<p>And a moment later the quaint figure was lost in +the darkness.</p> + +<p>An hour later, though past midnight, I despatched +two long telegrams—one to Frémy in Brussels, and +the other to Edwards in London.</p> + +<p>Then, two days later, by dint of an excuse that I +had urgent business in Ostend, I found myself with +Phrida and Mrs. Shand, duly installed, in rooms +overlooking the long, sunny Digue, one of the finest +sea-promenades in Europe.</p> + +<p>Ostend had begun her season, the racing season +had commenced, and all the hotels had put on coats<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +of new, white paint, and opened their doors, while +in the huge Kursaal they played childish games of +chance now that M. Marquet was no longer king—yet +the magnificent orchestra was worth a journey +to listen to.</p> + +<p>On the afternoon of our arrival, all was gay and +bright; outside the blue sea, the crowd of well-dressed +promenaders, and the golden sands where +the bathing was so merry and so chic.</p> + +<p>But I had no eyes for the beauties or gaiety +of the place. I sat closeted in my room with two +friends, Frémy and Edwards, whom I introduced +and who quickly fraternised.</p> + +<p>A long explanatory letter I had written to Brussels +had reached Frémy before his departure from the +capital.</p> + +<p>"Excellent," he was saying, his round, clean-shaven +face beaming. "This Peruvian evidently +knows where they are, and like all natives, +wants to make a <i>coup-de-theatre</i>. I've brought +two reliable men with me from Brussels, and we +ought—if they are really here—to make a good +capture."</p> + +<p>"Miss Shand knows nothing, you say?" Edwards +remarked, seated on the edge of my bed.</p> + +<p>"No. This man Senos was very decided upon +the point."</p> + +<p>"He has reasons, no doubt," remarked the +detective.</p> + +<p>"It is just four o'clock," I remarked. "He has +given me a rendezvous at the Café de la Règence, +a little place at the corner of the Place d'Armes. I +went round to find it as soon as I arrived. We're +due there in a quarter of an hour."</p> + +<p>"Then let us go, messieurs," Frémy suggested.</p> + +<p>"And what about Miss Shand?" I asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p> + +<p>The two detectives held a brief discussion. Then +Edwards, addressing me, said:</p> + +<p>"I really think that she ought to be present, Mr. +Royle. Would you bring her? Prepare her for +a scene—as there no doubt will be—and then +follow us."</p> + +<p>"But Senos will not speak without I am present," +I said.</p> + +<p>"Then go along to Miss Shand, give her my +official compliments and ask her to accompany +us upon our expedition," he replied.</p> + +<p>And upon his suggestion I at once acted.</p> + +<p>Truly those moments were breathless and exciting. +I could hear my own heart beat as I went along the +hotel corridor to knock at the door of her room.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> + +<h3>FACE TO FACE.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2"><span class="smcap">We</span> had, all four of us, ranged ourselves up under +the wall of a big white house in the Chausee de +Nieuport, which formed the south side of the racecourse, +and where, between us and the sea, rose +the colossal Royal Palace Hotel, when Frémy +advanced to the big varnished oak door, built +wide for the entrance of automobiles, and rang +the electric bell.</p> + +<p>In response there came out a sedate, white-whiskered +man-servant in black coat and striped +yellow waistcoat, the novel Belgium livery, but +in an instant he was pinioned by the two detectives +from Brussels, and the way opened for us.</p> + +<p>"No harm, old one!" cried the detectives in +French, after the man had admitted his master was +at home. "We are police-agents, and doing our +duty. We don't want you, only we don't intend +you to cry out, that's all. Keep a still tongue, old +one, and you're all right!" they laughed as they +kept grip of him. The Continental detective is +always humorous in the exercise of his duty. +I once witnessed in Italy a man arrested for murder.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +He had on a thin light suit, and having been to bed +in it, the back was terribly pleated and creased. +"Hulloa!" cried the detective, "so it is you. +Come along, old dried fig!" I was compelled to +laugh, for the culprit's thin, brown coat had all the +creases of a Christmas fig.</p> + +<p>The house we rushed in was a big, luxurious one, +with a wide passage running through to the Garage, +and on the left a big, wide marble staircase with +windows of stained glass and statues of dancing +girls of the art nouveau.</p> + +<p>Frémy, leaving his assistants below with the +man-servant, and crying to Edwards to look out +for anybody trying to escape, sprang up the marble +steps three at a time, followed by the narrow-eyed +Peruvian, while Phrida, clinging to my arm, held +her breath in quick apprehension. She was full of +fear and amazement.</p> + +<p>I had had much difficulty in persuading her to +accompany us, for she seemed in terror of denunciation. +Indeed, not until I told her that Edwards had +demanded her presence, had she consented.</p> + +<p>On the first landing, a big, thick-carpeted place +with a number of long, white doors leading into +various apartments, Frémy halted and raised his +finger in silence to us.</p> + +<p>He stood glancing from door to door, wondering +which to enter.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly he stood and gave a yell as though +of fearful pain.</p> + +<p>In an instant there was a quick movement in a +room on the right, the door opened and the woman +Petre came forth in alarm.</p> + +<p>Next second, however, finding herself face to face +with me, she halted upon the threshold and fell back +against the lintel of the door while we rushed in to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +encounter the man I had known as Digby, standing +defiant, with arms folded and brows knit.</p> + +<p>"Well," he demanded of me angrily. "What +do you want here?"</p> + +<p>"I've brought a friend of yours to see you, Mr. +Cane," I said quietly, and Edwards stepped aside +from the door to admit the Peruvian Senos.</p> + +<p>The effect was instant and indeed dramatic. His +face fell, his eyes glared, his teeth set, and his +nails dug themselves into his palms.</p> + +<p>"Mee-ster Cane," laughed the dark-faced native, +in triumph. "You no like see Senos—eh? No, no. +He know too much—eh? He watch you always +after he see you with laidee in Marseilles—he see you +in London—ha! ha! Senos know every-ting. You +kill my master, and you——"</p> + +<p>"It's a lie!" cried the man accused. "This +fellow made the same statement at Huacho, and it +was disproved."</p> + +<p>"Then you admit you are not Sir Digby Kemsley?" +exclaimed Edwards quickly. "You are Herbert +Cane, and I have a warrant for your arrest for +murder."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he laughed with an air of forced gaiety. +"That is amusing!"</p> + +<p>"I'm very glad you think so, my dear sir," +remarked the detective, glancing round to where +the woman Petre had been placed in an armchair +quite unconscious.</p> + +<p>Phrida was clinging to my arm, but uttered no +word. I felt her fingers trembling as she gripped me.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you believe this native—eh?" asked +the accused with sarcasm. "He tried to blackmail +me in Peru, and because I refused to be bled he +made a statement that I had killed my friend."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" exclaimed the native. "Senos knows—he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +see with his own eyes. He see Luis and you +with snake in a box. Luis could charm snakes by +music. Senos watch you both that night!"</p> + +<p>"Oh! tell what infernal lies you like," cried Cane +in angry disgust.</p> + +<p>"You, the 'Red' Englishman, are well known in +Peru, and so is your friend—the woman there, who +help you in all your bad schemes," said Senos, +indicating the inanimate form of Mrs. Petre. "You +introduced her to my master, but he no like her—he +snub her—so you send her to Lima to wait for +you—till you kill him, and get the paper—eh? +I saw you steal paper—big blue paper with +big seals—from master's despatch-box after snake +bite him."</p> + +<p>"Paper!" echoed Edwards. "What paper?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I can explain something," Frémy +interrupted in French. "I learnt some strange +facts only three days ago which throw a great deal +of light on this case."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to listen to all these romances," +laughed Cane defiantly. He was an astute and +polished adventurer, one of the cleverest and most +elusive in Europe, and he had all the adventurer's +nonchalance and impudence. At this moment he +was living in that fine house he had taken furnished +for the summer and passing as Mr. Charles K. +Munday, banker, of Chicago. Certainly he had so +altered his personal appearance that at first I +scarcely recognised him as the elegant, refined man +whom I had so foolishly trusted as a friend.</p> + +<p>"But now you are under arrest, mon cher ami, +you will be compelled to listen to a good many +unpleasant reminders," Frémy remarked with a +broad grin of triumph upon his round, clean-shaven +face.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p> + +<p>"If you arrest me, then you must arrest that +woman there, Phrida Shand, for the murder of +Marie Bracq in my flat in London. She was jealous +of her—and killed her with a knife she brought +with her for the purpose," Cane said with a laugh. +"If I must suffer—then so must she! She killed +the girl. She can't deny it!"</p> + +<p>"Phrida!" I gasped, turning to my love, who +still clung to me convulsively. "You hear what this +man says—this vile charge he brings against you—a +charge of murder! Say that it is not the truth," +I implored. "Tell me that he lies!"</p> + +<p>Her big eyes were fixed upon mine, her countenance +blanched to the lips, and her breath came and went +in short, quick gasps.</p> + +<p>At last her lips moved, as we all gazed at her. +Her voice was only a hoarse, broken whisper.</p> + +<p>"I—I can't!" she replied, and fell back into my +arms in a swoon.</p> + +<p>"You see!" laughed the accused man. "You, +Royle, are so clever that you only bring grief and +disaster upon yourself. I prevented Mrs. Petre +from telling the truth because I thought you had +decided to drop the affair."</p> + +<p>"What?" I cried. "When your accomplice—that +woman Petre—made a dastardly attempt upon +my life at your instigation, and left me for dead. +Drop the affair—never! You are an assassin, and +you shall suffer the penalty."</p> + +<p>"And so will Phrida Shand. She deceived you +finely—eh? I admire her cleverness," he laughed +"She was a thorough Sport, she——"</p> + +<p>"Enough!" commanded Edwards roughly. "I +give you into the custody of Inspector Frémy, of +the Belgian Sureté, on a charge of murder committed +within the Republic of Peru."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And I also arrest the prisoner," added Frémy, +"for offences committed in London and within the +Grand Duchy of Luxemburg."</p> + +<p>The man, pale and haggard-eyed notwithstanding +his bravado, started visibly at the famous detective's +words, while at that moment the two men from +Brussels appeared in the room, having released the +white-whiskered man-servant, who stood aghast and +astounded on the threshold. I supported my +love, now quite unconscious, in my strong arms, +and was trying to restore her, in which I was +immediately aided by one of the detectives.</p> + +<p>The scene was an intensely dramatic one—truly +an unusual scene to take place in the house of the +sedate old Baron Terwindt, ancient Ministre de la +Justice of Belgium.</p> + +<p>I was bending over my love and dashing water +into her face when we were all suddenly startled +by a loud explosion, and then we saw in Cane's +hand a smoking revolver.</p> + +<p>He had fired at me—and, fortunately, missed +me.</p> + +<p>In a second, however, the officers fell upon him, +and after a brief but desperate struggle, in which +a table and chairs were overturned, the weapon was +wrenched from his grasp.</p> + +<p>"Eh! bien," exclaimed Frémy, when the +weapon had been secured from the accused. "As +you will have some unpleasant things to hear, you +may as well listen to some of them now. You +have denied your guilt. Well, I will tell Inspector +Edwards what I have discovered concerning you +and your cunning and dastardly treatment of the +girl known as Marie Bracq."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to hear, I tell you!" he shouted +in English. "If I'm arrested, take me away, put<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +me into prison and send me over to England, where +I shall get a fair trial."</p> + +<p>"But you shall hear," replied the big-faced +official. "There is plenty of time to take you to +Brussels, you know. Listen. The man Senos has +alleged that you stole from the man you murdered +a blue paper—bearing a number of seals. He is +perfectly right. You sold that paper on the eighth +of January last for a quarter of a million francs. +Ah! my dear friend, you cannot deny that. The +purchaser will give evidence—and what then?"</p> + +<p>Cane stood silent. His teeth were set, his gaze +fixed, his grey brows contracted.</p> + +<p>The game was up, and he knew it. Yet his +marvellously active mind was already seeking a way +out. He was amazingly resourceful, as later on +was shown, when the details of his astounding +career came to be revealed.</p> + +<p>"Now the true facts are these—and perhaps +mademoiselle and the man Senos will be able to +supplement them—his Highness the Grand Duke +of Luxemburg, about two years ago, granted to an +American named Cassell a valuable concession for +a strategic railway to run across his country from +Echternach, on the eastern, or German, frontier of the +Grand Duchy, to Arlon on the Belgian frontier, the +Government of the latter State agreeing at the same +time to continue the line direct to Sedan, and thus +create a main route from Coblenz, on the Rhine, to +Paris—a line which Germany had long wanted for +military purposes, as it would be of incalculable +value in the event of further hostilities with France. +This concession, for which the American paid to the +Grand Duke a considerable sum, was afterwards purchased +by Sir Digby Kemsley—with his Highness's +full sanction, he knowing him to be a great English<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> +railroad engineer. Meanwhile, as time went on, the +Grand Duke was approached by the French Government +with a view to rescinding the concession, as it +was realised what superiority such a line would give +Germany in the event of the massing of her troops +in Eastern France. At first the Grand Duke refused +to listen, but both Russia and Austria presented +their protests, and his Highness found himself in +a dilemma. All this was known to you, m'sieur +Cane, through one Ludwig Mayer, a German secret +agent, who inadvertently spoke about it while you +were on a brief visit to Paris. You then resolved to +return at once to Peru, make the acquaintance of +Sir Digby Kemsley, and obtain the concession. +You went, you were fortunate, inasmuch as he was +injured and helpless, and you deliberately killed +him, and securing the document, sailed for Europe, +assuming the identity of the actual purchaser of +the concession. Oh, yes!" he laughed, "you +were exceedingly cunning and clever, for you did +not at once deal with it. No, you went to Luxemburg. +You made certain observations and inquiries. +You stayed at the Hotel Brasseur for a week, and +then, you were afraid to approach the Grand Duke +with an offer to sell back the stolen concession, but—well, +by that time you had resolved upon a very +pretty and romantic plan of action," and he paused +for a moment and gazed around at us.</p> + +<p>"Then robbery was the motive of the crime in +Peru!" I exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," Frémy replied. "But I will now +relate how I came into the inquiry. In the last +days of January, I was called in secret to Luxemburg +by the Grand Duke, who, when we sat alone together, +informed me that his only daughter Stephanie, aged +twenty-one, who was a rather erratic young lady,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> +and fond of travelling incognito, had disappeared. +The last heard of her was three weeks before—in +Paris—where she had, on her return from Egypt, been +staying a couple of days at the Hotel Maurice with +her aunt, the Grand Duchess of Baden, but she had +packed her things and left, and nothing more had +been heard of her. Search in her room, however, +had revealed two letters, signed 'Phrida,' and +addressed to a certain Marie Bracq."</p> + +<p>"Why, I never wrote to her in my life!" my love +declared, for she had now regained her senses.</p> + +<p>"His Highness further revealed to me the fact +that his daughter had, while in Egypt, made the +acquaintance at the Hotel Savoy on the Island of +Elephantine, of the great English railroad engineer, +Sir Digby Kemsley, who had purchased a railway +concession he had given, and which he was exceedingly +anxious to re-purchase and thus continue on +friendly terms with France. His daughter, on her +return to Luxemburg, and before going to Paris, +had mentioned her acquaintance with Sir Digby, +and that he held the concession. Therefore, through +her intermediary, Sir Digby—who was, of course, +none other than this assassin, Cane—went again +to Luxemburg and parted with the important +document for a quarter of a million francs. That +was on the eighth of January."</p> + +<p>"After the affair at Harrington Gardens," +Edwards remarked.</p> + +<p>"Yes; after the murder of Marie Bracq, he lost no +time in disposing of the concession."</p> + +<p>"It's a lie!" cried the accused. "That girl +there killed her. I didn't—she was jealous of +her!"</p> + +<p>My love shrank at the man's words, yet still +clinging to me, her beautiful countenance pale as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> +death, her lips half parted, her eyes staring straight +in front of her.</p> + +<p>"Phrida," I said in a low voice, full of sympathy, +"you hear what this man has alleged? Now that +the truth is being told, will you, too, not speak? +Speak!" I cried in my despair, "speak, dearest, I +beg of you!"</p> + +<p>"No," she sighed. "You—you would turn from +me—you would hate me!"</p> + +<p>And at her words Cane burst into a peal of harsh, +triumphant laughter.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> + +<h3>SHOWS THE TRUTH-TELLER.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2">"<span class="smcap">Speak</span>, laidee," urged the Peruvian. "Speak—tell +truth. Senos know—he know!"</p> + +<p>But my love was still obdurate.</p> + +<p>"I prefer to face death," she whispered, "than to +reveal the bitter truth to you, dear."</p> + +<p>What could I do? The others heard her words, +and Cane was full of triumph.</p> + +<p>"I think, Miss Shand, that you should now tell +whatever you know of this complicated affair. The +truth will certainly have to be threshed out in a +criminal court."</p> + +<p>But she made no answer, standing there, +swaying slightly, with her white face devoid of +expression.</p> + +<p>"Let Senos tell you some-tings," urged the narrow-eyed +native. "When that man kill my master he +fly to Lisbon. There Mrs. Petre meet him and go +London. There he become Sir Digby Kemsley, and +I see him often, often, because I crossed as stoker +on same boat. He go to Luxemburg. I follow. +One day he see Grand Duke's daughter—pretty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> +young laidee—and somebody tell him she go to +Egypt. She go, and he follow. I wait in Marseilles. +I sell my rugs, wait three, four weeks and meet each +steamer from Alexandria. At last he come with +three laidees, and go to the Louvre et Paix, where I +sell my rugs outside the café. I see he always with +her—walking, driving, laughing. I want to tell her +the truth—that the man is not my master, but his +assassin. Ah! but no opportunity. They go to +Paris. Then she and the laidees go to Luxemburg, +and he to London. I follow her, and stay in Luxemburg +to sell my shawls, and to see her. She drive +out of the palace every day. Once I try and speak +to her, but police arrest me and keep me prison two +days—ugh! After a week she with another laidee +go to Paris; then she alone go to Carlton Hotel in +London. I watch there and see Cane call on her. +He no see me—ah, no! I often watch him to his +home in Harrington Gardens; often see him with +that woman Petre, and once I saw Luis with them. +I have much patience till one day the young lady +leave the hotel herself and walk along Pall Mall. I +follow and stop her. She very afraid of dark man, +but I tell her no be afraid of Senos. Quick, in few +words, I tell her that her friend not my master, Sir +Digby—only the man who killed him. She dumbstruck. +Tells me I am a liar, she will not believe. +I repeat what I said, and she declares I will have to +prove what I say. I tell her I am ready, and she +askes me to meet her at same place and same time +to-morrow. She greatly excited, and we part. +Senos laughs, for he has saved young laidee—daughter +of a king—from that man."</p> + +<p>"What? You actually told her Highness!" +cried Frémy in surprise.</p> + +<p>"I told her how my master had been killed by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> +that man—with the snake—and I warned her to +avoid him. But she hesitated to believe Senos," +was the native's reply. "Of course, she not know +me. That was date six January. I remember it, +for that night, poor young laidee—she die. She +killed!"</p> + +<p>"What?" Edwards cried, staring at the speaker. +"She was killed, you say?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Frémy interrupted, "Marie Bracq was +the name assumed by her Highness, the daughter of +the Grand Duke. She loved freedom from all the +trammels of court life, and as I have told you, went +about Europe with her maid as her companion, +travelling in different names. Mademoiselle Marie +Bracq was one that it seems she used, only we did +not discover this until after her death, and after +his Highness had paid the quarter of a million +francs to regain the concession he had granted—money +which, I believe, the French Government +really supplied from their secret service +fund."</p> + +<p>"Then it was the daughter of the Grand Duke +who fell a victim in Cane's flat?" I gasped in utter +surprise at this latest revelation.</p> + +<p>"Yes, m'sieur," replied Frémy. "You will +recollect, when you told us at the Préfecture +of the name of the victim, how dumbfounded +we were."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, I recollect!" I said. "I remember +how your chief point-blank refused to betray the +confidence reposed in him."</p> + +<p>And to all this the assassin of Sir Digby Kemsley +listened without a word, save to point to my love, +and declare:</p> + +<p>"There stands the woman who killed Marie +Bracq. Arrest her!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p> + +<p>Phrida stood rigid, motionless as a statue.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she exclaimed at last, with all her courage, +"I—I will speak. I—I'll tell you everything. I +will confess, for I cannot bear this longer. And yet, +dearest," she cried, turning her face to me and looking +straight into my eyes, "I love you, though I +now know that after I have spoken—after I have +told the truth—you will despise and hate me! Ah, +God alone knows how I have suffered! how I have +prayed for deliverance from this. But it cannot be. +I have sinned, I suppose, and I must bear just +punishment."</p> + +<p>There was silence.</p> + +<p>We all looked at her, though the woman +Petre was still lying in her chair unconscious, +and upon the assassin's lips was a grim +smile.</p> + +<p>"You recollect," Phrida said, turning to me, +"you remember the day when you introduced that +man to me. Well, from that hour I knew no peace. +He wrote to me, asking me to meet him, as he had +something to tell me concerning my future. Well, I +foolishly met him one afternoon in Rumpelmeyer's, +in St. James's Street, when he told me that he had +purchased a very important German patent for the +manufacture of certain chemicals which would +revolutionise prices, and would bring upon your firm +inevitable ruin, as you pursued the old-fashioned +methods. But, being your friend, and respecting us +both, he had decided not to go further with the new +process, and though he had given a large sum of +money for it, he would, in our mutual interests, not +allow it to be developed. Naturally, in my innocence +I thanked him, and from that moment, professing +great friendliness towards you, we became friends. +Sometimes I met him at the houses of friends, but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +he always impressed upon me the necessity of keeping +our acquaintance a secret."</p> + +<p>And she paused, placing her hand upon her +heart as though to stay its throbbing.</p> + +<p>"One afternoon," she resumed, "the day of the +tragedy, I received a telegram urging me to meet +him without fail at five o'clock at Rumpelmeyer's. +This I did, when he imparted to me a secret—that +you, dear, were in the habit of meeting, at his flat, +a foreign woman named Marie Bracq, daughter of +a hair-dresser in the Edgware Road; that you, +whom I loved, were infatuated with her, and—and +that——"</p> + +<p>"The liar!" I cried.</p> + +<p>"He told me many things which naturally +excited me, and which, loving you as I did, drove +me to madness. I refused at first to heed his +words, for somehow I mistrusted him—I know not +why! But he offered to give me proof. If I went +that night, or early in the morning, to Harrington +Gardens, I would find her there, and I might +question her. Imagine my state of mind after +what he had revealed to me. I promised I +would come there in secret, and I went home, +my mind full of the lies and suspicion which +he had, I now see, so cleverly suggested. I +didn't then know him to be an assassin, but, mistrusting +him as I did, I took for my own protection +the old knife from the table in the drawing-room, +and concealed it inside my blouse. At one +o'clock next morning I crept out of the house +noiselessly, and walked to Harrington Gardens, +where I opened the outer door with the latch-key +he had given me. On ascending to his flat I heard +voices—I heard your voice, dear—therefore I +descended into the dark and waited—waited<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +until you came down the stairs and left. I +saw you, and I was mad—mad! Then I went +up, and he admitted me. The trap was +already laid for me. I crossed that threshold +to my doom!"</p> + +<p>"How?" I asked in my despair. "Tell me all, +Phrida,—everything!"</p> + +<p>But at this point the Peruvian, Senos, interrupted, +saying:</p> + +<p>"Let me speak, sare. I tell you," he cried +quickly.</p> + +<p>"When I speak to the lady in Pall Mall I follow her. +She go that afternoon to Harrington Gardens, but +there see Mrs. Petre, whom she already know. Mrs. +Petre find her excited, and after questioning her, +induce her to tell her what I say—that Cane he kill +my master. Then Mrs. Petre say, Sir Digby away in +the country—not return to London—at Paddington—till +one o'clock in the morning. I listen to it all, +for Senos friend of the hall-porter—eh? So young +laidee she says she come late in the night—half-past +one or two o'clock—and ask himself the truth. But +Cane in his room all the time, of course."</p> + +<p>"Well, Phrida?" I asked quickly. "Tell +us what happened on that night when you +entered."</p> + +<p>"Yes," cried Cane sarcastically, "Lie to them—they'll +believe you, of course!"</p> + +<p>"When I entered that man took me into the +sitting-room, and I sat down. Naturally I was +very upset. Mrs. Petre, whom I had met before, +was there, and after he had told me many things +about your relations with the daughter of a hair-dresser—things +which maddened me—Mrs. Petre +admitted her from the adjoining room. I was mad +with jealousy, loving you as I did. What happened<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> +between us I do not know. I—I only fear that—that +I took the knife from my breast and, in a +frenzy of madness—killed her!" And she covered +her face with her hands.</p> + +<p>"Exactly!" cried Cane. "I'm glad you have +the moral courage to admit it."</p> + +<p>"But describe exactly what occurred—as far as +you know," Edwards said, pressing her.</p> + +<p>"I know that I was in a frenzy of passion, and +hysterical, perhaps," she said at last. "I recollect +Mrs. Petre saying that I looked very unwell, and +fetching me some smelling-salts from the next room. +I smelt them, but the odour was faint and +strange, and a few moments later I—well, I knew +no more."</p> + +<p>"And then—afterwards?" I asked very +gravely.</p> + +<p>"When, later on I came to my senses," she said +in slow, hard tones, as though reflecting, "I found +the girl whom I believed to be my rival in your +affections lying on the ground. In her breast was +the knife. Ah, shall I ever forget that moment when +I realised what I had done! Cane was bending +over me, urging me to remain calm. He told me +that my rival was dead—that I had killed her and +that she would not further interfere with my future. +I—I saw him bend over the body, withdraw the +knife, and wipe it upon his handkerchief, while that +woman, his accomplice, looked on. Then he gave +me back the knife, which instinctively I concealed, +and bade me go quickly and noiselessly back home, +promising secrecy, and declaring that both he and +Mrs. Petre would say nothing—that my terrible +secret was safe in their hands. I believed them, +and I crept down the stairs out into the road, and +walked home to Cromwell Road. I replaced the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> +knife in the drawing-room, and I believed them +until—until I knew that you guessed my secret! +Then came that woman's betrayal, and I knew that +my doom was sealed," she added, her chin sinking +upon her breast.</p> + +<p>"You see," laughed Cane defiantly, "that the +girl admits her guilt. She was jealous of Marie +Bracq, and in a frenzy of passion struck her down. +Mrs. Petre was there and witnessed it. She will +describe it all to you, no doubt, when she +recovers."</p> + +<p>"And what she will say is one big lie," declared +Senos, coming forward again. "We all know +Mrs. Petre," he laughed in his high-pitched voice; +"she is your tool—she and Luis. But he become +a snake-charmer and give exhibitions at music-halls. +He bit by one snake at Darlington, a month ago, +and die quick. Ah, yes! Senos know! Snake +bite him, because he brought snake and give him to +that man to bite my poor master."</p> + +<p>"Why will Mrs. Petre tell lies, Senos?" demanded +Edwards who, with Frémy, was listening with +the greatest interest and putting the threads +of the tangled skein together in their proper +sequence.</p> + +<p>"Because I, Senos, was at Harrington Gardens +that night. I knew that the laidee I had spoken +to was going there, and I feared that some-ting might +happen, for Cane a desperate man when charged +with the truth."</p> + +<p>"You were there!" I gasped. "What do you +know?"</p> + +<p>"Well, this," said the narrow-eyed man who had +hunted down the assassin of his master. "I waited +outside the house—waited some hours—when about +eleven Cane he came down and unfastened the door<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> +and leave it a little open. I creep in, and soon +after you, Mr. Royle, you come in. I wait and see +you go upstairs. Then I creep up and get out of +the window on the landing and on to the roof, +where I see inside Cane's room—see all that goes on. +My friend, the hall-porter, he tell me this sometime +before, and I find the spot where, kneeling down, I +see between the blinds. I see you talk with him +and I see you go. Then I see Miss Shand—she come +in and Mrs. Petre, and Cane talk to her. She very +excited when she meet young laidee, and Mrs. Petre +she give her bottle to smell. Then she faint off. The +laidee, daughter of great Duke, she say something +to Cane. He furious. She repeat what I say to her. +Then Mrs. Petre, who had given Miss Shand the +smelling-salts, find knife in her breast and secretly +puts it into Cane's hand. In a moment Cane +strikes the young lady with it—ah! full in the chest—and +she sinks on the floor—dead! It went into +her heart. Cane and the woman Petre talk +in low whispers for few minutes, both very +afraid. Then Miss Shand she wakes, opens her +eyes, and sees the young laidee dead on the +floor. She scream, but Mrs. Petre puts her +hand over her mouth. Cane take out the knife, +wipe it, and after telling her something, Miss +Shand creep away. Oh, yes, Senos he see it all! +Miss Shand quite innocent—she do nothing. Cane +kill daughter of the great Duke—he with his own +hand—he kill her. Senos saw him—with his +own eyes!"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" I cried, rushing towards the native, and +gripping both his brown hands. "Thank you, Senos, +for those words. You have saved the woman I love, +for you are an eye-witness to that man's crime which +with such subtle ingenuity he has endeavoured<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> +to fasten upon her, and would have succeeded +had it not been for your dogged perseverance and +astuteness."</p> + +<p>"He kill my master," replied the Peruvian +simply. "I watch him and convict him. He bad +assassin, gentlemens—very bad man!"</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 class="gap3"><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> + +<h3>IS THE CONCLUSION.</h3> + + +<p class="gap2">"<span class="smcap">Do</span> you really believe that man?" asked Cane, +turning to us quite coolly, a sarcastic smile upon +his lips.</p> + +<p>He was a marvellous actor, for he now betrayed +not the slightest confusion. He even laughed at the +allegations made against him. His bold defiance +utterly amazed us. Yet we knew now how resourceful +and how utterly unscrupulous he was.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do!" was the officer's reply. "You +murdered her Highness, fearing that she should go +to her father and expose you before you could have +time to dispose of your stolen concession to him. +Had she gone to him, the police would hunt you +down as Sir Digby's assassin. But by closing her +lips you hoped to be able to sell back the concession +and still preserve your guilty secret."</p> + +<p>"Of course," remarked Frémy, "the whole affair +is now quite plain. Poor Miss Shand was drawn +into the net in order to become this scoundrel's +victim. He intended from the first to make use of +her in some way, and did so at last by making her +believe she had killed her alleged rival in Mr. Royle's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> +affection. Truly this man is a clever and unscrupulous +scoundrel, for he succeeded in obtaining a +quarter of a million francs from a reigning sovereign +for a document, to obtain which he had committed +a foul and dastardly crime!"</p> + +<p>"A lie—lies, all of it!" shouted the accused +angrily, his face as white as paper.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do not trouble," laughed Frémy, speaking +in French. "You will have an opportunity to make +your defence before the judge—you and your +ingenious accomplice, Mrs. Petre."</p> + +<p>"We want her in England for the attempted +murder of Mr. Royle," Edwards remarked. "I'll +apply for her extradition to-morrow. Your +chief will, no doubt, decide to keep Cane here—at +least, for the present. We shall want him +for the murder of the Englishman, Sir Digby +Kemsley."</p> + +<p>"You may want me," laughed the culprit with +an air of supreme defiance, "but you'll never have +me! Oh, no, no! I'll remain over here, and leave +you wanting me."</p> + +<p>"Prisoner, what is the use of these denials and +this defiance?" asked Frémy severely in French, +advancing towards him. "You are in my custody—and +under the law of the Kingdom of Belgium I +arrest you for the murder of Sir Digby Kemsley, +in Peru, and for the murder of Stephanie, daughter +of his Highness the Grand Duke of Luxemburg." +Then, turning to his two subordinates, he added +briefly: "Put the handcuffs on him! He may give +trouble!"</p> + +<p>"Handcuffs! Ha, ha!" cried Senos the Peruvian, +laughing and snapping his brown fingers in the +prisoner's face. "It is my triumph now. Senos +has avenged the death of his poor, good master!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A moment," exclaimed the prisoner. "I may +at least be permitted to secure my papers before I +leave here, and hand them over to you? They will, +perhaps, interest you," he said quite coolly. Then +he took from his watch-chain a small key, and +with it opened a little cupboard in the wall, from +whence he took a small, square deed-box of +japanned tin, which he placed upon the table +before us.</p> + +<p>With another and smaller key, and with a slight +grin upon his face, he opened the lid, but a cry of +dismay escaped us, for next second we saw that he +held in his hand a small, black object, sinuous and +writhing—a small, thin, but highly venomous black +snake!</p> + +<p>It was over in an instant, ere we could realise +the truth. Upon his white wrist I saw a tiny bead +of blood, where the reptile had struck and bitten +him, and as he flung it back into the box and +banged down the lid he turned upon us in defiance, +and said:</p> + +<p>"Now take me! I am ready," he cried, uttering +a peal of fiendish laughter. "Carry me where +you will, for in a few moments I shall be dead. +Ah! yes, my good friends! I have played the +great game—and lost. Yet I've cheated you all, +as I always declared that I would."</p> + +<p>The two men sprang forward to slip the metal +gyves upon his wrists, but Frémy, noticing the instant +change in the assassin's countenance, motioned +them off.</p> + +<p>The culprit's face grew ashen grey, his thin +jaws were fixed. He tried to utter some further +words, but no sound came from him, only a low +gurgle.</p> + +<p>We stood by and watched. He placed both<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> +his palms to his brow and stood for a few seconds +in the centre of the room. Then a paroxysm of pain +seemed to double him completely up, and he fell +to the carpet writhing in most fearful agony. It +was horrible to witness, and Phrida, with a cry, +turned away.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly he lay stiff, and stretched his +limbs to such an extent that we could hear the bones +crack. His back became arched, and then he +expired with horrible convulsions, which held his +limbs stiffened and extended to their utmost limits—truly, +the most awful and agonising of deaths, +and a torture in the last moments that must have +been excruciating—a punishment worse, indeed, +than any that man-made law might allow.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>As Herbert Cane paid the penalty of his +crimes the woman Petre at last recovered consciousness.</p> + +<p>I saw the look of abject terror upon her face +as her eyes fell upon the man lying dead upon the +carpet before us.</p> + +<p>She realised the terrible truth at once, and giving +vent to a loud, hysterical scream, rose and threw +herself on her knees beside the man whose wide-open +eyes, staring into space, were fast glazing +in death.</p> + +<p>Edwards bent, and asked in a low voice whether +I wished to give her into custody for the attempt +upon me.</p> + +<p>But I replied in the negative.</p> + +<p>"The assassin has received his just punishment +and must answer to his Maker," I replied. "That +is enough. This scene will assuredly be a lesson +to her."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She falsely accused Miss Shand, remember," +he said. "She knew all the time that Cane struck +the poor girl down."</p> + +<p>"No," I replied. "Now that the stigma has been +removed from the one I love, I will be generous. +I will prefer no charge against her."</p> + +<p>"Ah! dearest," cried Phrida, "I am glad of that. +Let us forgive, and endeavour, if possible, to forget +these dark, black days and weeks when both our +lives were blighted, and the future seemed so hopeless +and full of tragedy."</p> + +<p>"Yes," I said, "let us go forth and forget."</p> + +<p>And with a last glance at the dead man, with +the woman with dishevelled hair kneeling in despair +at his side, I took the arm of my beloved, +and kissing her before them all, led her out, away +from the scene so full of bitterness and horror.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>To further prolong the relation of this tragic +chapter of my life's history would serve no +purpose.</p> + +<p>What more need I tell you than to say Mrs. +Petre disappeared entirely, apparently thankful +to escape, and that at St. Mary Abbots, in Kensington, +a month ago, Phrida and I became +man and wife, both Edwards and Frémy being +present.</p> + +<p>As I pen these final lines I am sitting upon the +balcony of the great Winter Palace Hotel, in Luxor, +within sight of the colossal ruins of Karnak, for +we are spending a delightful honeymoon in Upper +Egypt, that region where the sun always shines +and rain never falls. Phrida, in her thin white +cotton gown and white sun helmet, though it is +January, is seated beside me, her little hand in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> +mine. Below us, in the great garden, rise the high, +feathery palms, above a riot of roses and poinsettias, +magnolias, and other sweet-smelling flowers.</p> + +<p>It is the silent, breathless hour of the desert sunset. +Before us, away beyond the little strip of +vegetation watered by the broad, ever-flowing Nile, +the clear, pale green sky is aflame with crimson, +a sunset mystic and wonderful, such as one only +sees in Egypt, that golden land of the long-forgotten.</p> + +<p>From somewhere behind comes up the long-drawn +nasal song of an Arab boatman—that quaint, +plaintive, sing-song rhythm accompanied by a +tom-tom, which encourages the rowers to bend +at their oars, while away still further behind across +the river, lays the desolate ruins of the once-powerful +Thebes, and that weird, arid wilderness which is so +impressive—the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings.</p> + +<p>Phrida has been reading what I have here written, +and as I kiss her sweet lips, she looks lovingly into +my eyes and says:</p> + +<p>"It is enough, dearest. Say that you and I +are happy—ah! so supremely happy at last, in +each other's love. No pair in the whole world +could trust each other as we have done. I know +that I was guilty of a very grave fault—the fault +of concealing my friendship with that man from +you. But I foolishly thought I was acting in your +interests—that being your friend, he was mine also. +I never dreamed that such a refined face could hide +so black and vile a heart."</p> + +<p>"But I have forgiven all, darling," I hasten to +reassure her! "I know now what a clever and +ingenious scoundrel that man was, and how full +of resource and amazing cunning. You were his +victim, just as I was myself—just as were the others.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> +"No," I add, "life, love, and happiness are before us. +So let us learn to forget."</p> + +<p>And as our lips meet once again in a long, fond, +passionate caress, I lay down my pen in order to +press her more closely to my breast.</p> + +<p>She is mine—my own beloved—mine for now and +evermore.</p> + +<p class="center gap3">THE END.</p> + +<p class="center gap3 small">Butler & Tanner Frome and London</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1a" id="Page_1a">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + + + +<h3 class="gap3">WARD, LOCK & CO.'S</h3> + +<h2>New and Recent Fiction.</h2> + + +<h3 class="gap2">Finished</h3> + +<h4>H. RIDER HAGGARD.</h4> + +<p>Here we have Mr. Rider Haggard at his best. The book is +alive with adventure, and characters black and white.</p> + +<p>Mr. Haggard makes all his characters interesting; they live +for us, no matter how extraordinary the circumstances, and these +circumstances are described in such a way, so vividly and yet +so quietly, that we accept them without question. "Finished" +is indeed as full of good points as it is of adventures.</p> + + +<h3 class="gap2">Thorgils of Treadholt</h3> + +<h4>MAURICE HEWLETT.</h4> + +<p>This new work by the author of "The Forest Lovers" is told +with the wealth of detail and vivid actuality which have made +the author's excursions into primitive Scandinavian history and +legend as fascinating and as strongly human in their appeal as +the mediæval romances which first made him famous.</p> + + +<h3 class="gap2">Carmen's Messenger</h3> + +<h4>HAROLD BINDLOSS.</h4> + +<p>Mr. Bindloss is an author who can deftly use sensationalism +to his purpose without forcing it for mere effect, and who can +also depict the character of a strong man as honest as determined +in love with a sweet woman. He tells a story with rare skill.</p> + + +<h3 class="gap2">Lonesome Heights</h3> + +<h4>HALLIWELL SUTCLIFFE.</h4> + +<p>A thoroughly enjoyable story, without a dull page, and in the +front rank of the author's work. Plot and characterisation are +equally good.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2a" id="Page_2a">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + + +<h3 class="gap2">The Just Men of Cordova</h3> + +<h4>EDGAR WALLACE.</h4> + +<p>An adventure story dealing with another episode in the career +of the "Four Just Men" who have appeared in several of Mr +Wallace's most popular novels.</p> + + +<h3 class="gap2">The Rattlesnake</h3> + +<h4>KATHARINE TYNAN.</h4> + +<p>A strong knowledge of human nature, for which Katharine +Tynan is famous, is well portrayed in the pages of this novel, and +this, in conjunction with the interesting nature of the plot, +renders it particularly successful. The book will be appreciated +by novel readers.</p> + + +<h3 class="gap2">Adam</h3> + +<h4>PAUL TRENT.</h4> + +<p>A strikingly original novel. It tells of a young man who is +kept in seclusion and entirely without knowledge of the world +until the age of twenty-one. His development, especially from +the religious standpoint, is strikingly realistic and enthralling. +A novel likely to be talked about.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Morning Post.</span>—"Mr. Paul Trent tells a tale well. He has +a narrative style that grips and interests, and we are grateful +to him for a real and enjoyable story."</p> + + +<h3 class="gap2">No Greater Love</h3> + +<h4>WILLIAM LE QUEUX.</h4> + +<p>A remarkable story, crowded with the most exciting situations, +and bristling with crimes which only the brain of a most versatile +author could conceive.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">The Scotsman.</span>—"Few novelists, if any, surpass Mr. Wm. Le +Queux in the art of making a frankly and formidably melodramatic +story go with alluring lightness in its intensity."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3a" id="Page_3a">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + + +<h3 class="gap3">WARD, LOCK & CO.'S</h3> + +<h2>TWO-SHILLING +FICTION</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. Cloth Gilt. With Illustrations. 2/- net.</i></p> + +<table summary="2s fiction"> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">1</td> +<td><b>Lawrence Clavering</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. E. W. Mason</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">3</td> +<td><b>Limitations</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. F. Benson</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">7</td> +<td><b>Roger Trewinion</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Joseph Hocking</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">8</td> +<td><b>Half a Hero</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Anthony Hope</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">9</td> +<td><b>Ayesha</b></td> +<td class="ralign">H. Rider Haggard</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">10</td> +<td><b>A Study in Scarlet</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. Conan Doyle</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">12</td> +<td><b>To Leeward</b></td> +<td class="ralign">F. Marion Crawford</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">13</td> +<td><b>Comedies of Courtship</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. Hope</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">16</td> +<td><b>Lady Barbarity</b></td> +<td class="ralign">J. C. Snaith</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">17</td> +<td><b>As We Forgive Them</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Wm. Le Queux</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">18</td> +<td><b>Hawtrey's Deputy</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">19</td> +<td><b>The Peer and the Woman</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">20</td> +<td><b>Sylvia's Chauffeur</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Louis Tracy</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">21</td> +<td><b>Mr. Witt's Widow</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Anthony Hope</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">22</td> +<td><b>The Unknown Lady</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Justus M. Forman</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">24</td> +<td><b>Lord Stranleigh, Philanthropist</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Robert Barr</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">25</td> +<td><b>The Master Mummer</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">27</td> +<td><b>The Protector</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4a" id="Page_4a">[Pg 4]</a></span>28</td> +<td><b>The Postmaster of Market Deignton</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">29</td> +<td><b>The Sign of the Stranger</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Wm. Le Queux</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">31</td> +<td><b>The Pioneer</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">32</td> +<td><b>False Evidence</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">33</td> +<td><b>The Tickencote Treasure</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Wm. Le Queux</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">34</td> +<td><b>Mirabel's Island</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Louis Tracy</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">35</td> +<td><b>White Walls</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Max Pemberton</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">36</td> +<td><b>The Lovers</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Eden Phillpotts</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">38</td> +<td><b>The Vow</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Paul Trent</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">39</td> +<td><b>The Purple Robe</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Joseph Hocking</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">40</td> +<td><b>The Trustee</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">41</td> +<td><b>Expiation</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">42</td> +<td><b>Mysteries</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Wm. Le Queux</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">43</td> +<td><b>The Foundling</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Paul Trent</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">44</td> +<td><b>The Betrayal</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">45</td> +<td><b>The Wastrel</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">46</td> +<td><b>The Room of Secrets</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Wm. Le Queux</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">47</td> +<td><b>The Opening Door</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Justus M. Forman</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">48</td> +<td><b>Lest We Forget</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Joseph Hocking</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">49</td> +<td><b>The Long Arm</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">50</td> +<td><b>The Second Chance</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Paul Trent</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">51</td> +<td><b>The Yellow Crayon</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">52</td> +<td><b>The Allinson Honour</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">53</td> +<td><b>The Open Road</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Halliwell Sutcliffe</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">54</td> +<td><b>The Master of Merripit</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Eden Phillpotts</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">55</td> +<td><b>Max Logan</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Paul Trent</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">56</td> +<td><b>An Enemy Hath Done This</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Joseph Hocking</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">57</td> +<td><b>Mysterious Mr. Sabin</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">59</td> +<td><b>The Heir to the Throne</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. W. Marchmont</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">60</td> +<td><b>Blake's Burden</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">61</td> +<td><b>A Daughter of the Marionis</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">62</td> +<td><b>The House 'Round the Corner</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Louis Tracy</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5a" id="Page_5a">[Pg 5]</a></span>63</td> +<td><b>The White Lie</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Wm. Le Queux</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">64</td> +<td><b>Uncle Peter's Will</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Silas K. Hocking</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">65</td> +<td><b>Lord Stranleigh Abroad</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Robert Barr</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">66</td> +<td><b>The Six Rubies</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Justus M. Forman</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">67</td> +<td><b>Leila and Her Lover</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Max Pemberton</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">68</td> +<td><b>The Secret of the Reef</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">69</td> +<td><b>The Blind Spot</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Justus M. Forman</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">70</td> +<td><b>Nesbit's Compact</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Paul Trent</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">73</td> +<td><b>The White Horses</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Halliwell Sutcliffe</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">74</td> +<td><b>A Lovers' Tale</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Maurice Hewlett</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">75</td> +<td><b>Delia Blanchflower</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Mrs. Humphry Ward</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">76</td> +<td><b>The Coming of the King</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Joseph Hocking</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">77</td> +<td><b>The Admirable Carfew</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Edgar Wallace</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">78</td> +<td><b>Prince of Sinners</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">79</td> +<td><b>A Risky Game</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">80</td> +<td><b>The Sign of Silence</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Wm. Le Queux</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">81</td> +<td><b>The Angel of the Desert</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Silas K. Hocking</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">82</td> +<td><b>A Chateau in Picardy</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Halliwell Sutcliffe</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">83</td> +<td><b>The Mystery of Mr. Bernard Brown</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">84</td> +<td><b>In Self Defence</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Silas K. Hocking</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">85</td> +<td><b>Bentley's Conscience</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Paul Trent</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">86</td> +<td><b>The Borderer</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">87</td> +<td><b>A Monk of Cruta</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">88</td> +<td><b>Frey and His Wife</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Maurice Hewlett</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">89</td> +<td><b>The Birthright</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Joseph Hocking</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">90</td> +<td><b>The Crimson Field</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Halliwell Sutcliffe</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">91</td> +<td><b>The Flying Girl</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Richard Marsh</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">92</td> +<td><b>When He Came to Himself</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Silas K. Hocking</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">93</td> +<td><b>God and Mammon</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Joseph Hocking</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">94</td> +<td><b>The Annexation Society</b></td> +<td class="ralign">J. S. Fletcher</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">95</td> +<td><b>Greater Love</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Joseph Hocking</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">96</td> +<td><b>The Secret</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">97</td> +<td><b>A Prince of this World</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Joseph Hocking</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6a" id="Page_6a">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> + + +<h3 class="gap3">WARD, LOCK & CO.'S</h3> + +<h2>SHILLING FICTION</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>Foolscap 8vo. Cloth Gilt. 1/- net.</i></p> + +<p class="center large">LATEST LIST</p> + +<table summary="1s fiction"> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">78</td> +<td><b>Ayesha</b></td> +<td class="ralign">H. Rider Haggard</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">80</td> +<td><b>The Open Road</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Halliwell Sutcliffe</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">82</td> +<td><b>An Enemy Hath Done This</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Joseph Hocking</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">88</td> +<td><b>The Scarlet Woman</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Joseph Hocking</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">93</td> +<td><b>The Holy Flower</b></td> +<td class="ralign">H. Rider Haggard</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">94</td> +<td><b>The Traitors</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. Phillips Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">95</td> +<td><b>The Strength of the Hills</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Halliwell Sutcliffe</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">96</td> +<td><b>The Pathway</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Gertrude Page</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">97</td> +<td><b>The Blind Spot</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Justus M. Forman</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">98</td> +<td><b>The Broken Thread</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Wm. Le Queux</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">99</td> +<td><b>The Intruder</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">100</td> +<td><b>Faith Tresilian</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Eden Phillpotts</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">101</td> +<td><b>Leila and Her Lover</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Max Pemberton</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">102</td> +<td><b>Nesbit's Compact</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Paul Trent</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">103</td> +<td><b>A Man and His Kingdom</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">104</td> +<td><b>The White Horses</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Halliwell Sutcliffe</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">105</td> +<td><b>Delia Blanchflower</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Mrs. Humphry Ward</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">106</td> +<td><b>The Secret of the Reef</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">107</td> +<td><b>The Mysterious Three</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Wm. Le Queux</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">108</td> +<td><b>A Lovers' Tale</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Maurice Hewlett</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">109</td> +<td><b>A Prince of Sinners</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">110</td> +<td><b>Rainbow Island</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Louis Tracy</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">111</td> +<td><b>The Place of Dragons</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Wm. Le Queux</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">112</td> +<td><b>The Purple Robe</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Joseph Hocking</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">113</td> +<td><b>When Greek meets Greek</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Paul Trent</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">114</td> +<td><b>A Risky Game</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7a" id="Page_7a">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + + +<h3 class="gap3">WARD, LOCK & CO.'S</h3> + +<h2>NINEPENNY NOVELS</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>Cloth Gilt, with Frontispiece and Attractive Wrapper +in colours. 9d. net.</i></p> + +<table summary="9d fiction"> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">1</td> +<td><b>The Garden of Lies</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Justus M. Forman</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">2</td> +<td><b>Anna, The Adventuress</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">4</td> +<td><b>The Beautiful White Devil</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">5</td> +<td><b>The Impostor</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">7</td> +<td><b>A Study In Scarlet</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. Conan Doyle</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">9</td> +<td><b>The Mother</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Eden Phillpotts</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">10</td> +<td><b>The Crimson Blind</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Fred M. White</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">14</td> +<td><b>A Maker of History</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">16</td> +<td><b>The Pillar of Light</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Louis Tracy</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">17</td> +<td><b>A Bid for Fortune</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">21</td> +<td><b>Mr. Wingrave, Millionaire</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">31</td> +<td><b>The Secret</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">34</td> +<td><b>Darby and Joan</b></td> +<td class="ralign">"Rita"</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">36</td> +<td><b>The Temptress</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Wm. Le Queux</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">43</td> +<td><b>The Missioner</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">47</td> +<td><b>Dr. Nikola</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">53</td> +<td><b>His Lady's Pleasure</b></td> +<td class="ralign">H. Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">54</td> +<td><b>A Courier of Fortune</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. W. Marchmont</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">58</td> +<td><b>Heart of Gold</b></td> +<td class="ralign">L. G. Moberly</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">65</td> +<td><b>Hawtrey's Deputy</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">67</td> +<td><b>A Maker of Nations</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8a" id="Page_8a">[Pg 8]</a></span>69</td> +<td><b>A Millionaire of Yesterday</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">72</td> +<td><b>Long Live the King</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">75</td> +<td><b>The World's Great Snare</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">76</td> +<td><b>Helen of the Moor</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. & C. Askew</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">77</td> +<td><b>League of the Leopard</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">78</td> +<td><b>Her Splendid Sin</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Headon Hill</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">79</td> +<td><b>Dr. Nikola's Experiment</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">80</td> +<td><b>Whoso Findeth a Wife</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Wm. Le Queux</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">81</td> +<td><b>The Stowaway</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Louis Tracy</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">82</td> +<td><b>The Law of the Land</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Fred. M. White</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">83</td> +<td><b>Mr. Marx's Secret</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">84</td> +<td><b>Sanders of the River</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Edgar Wallace</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">85</td> +<td><b>Under the Black Eagle</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. W. Marchmont</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">86</td> +<td><b>Joy: a Happy Soul</b></td> +<td class="ralign">L. G. Moberly</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">87</td> +<td><b>The Red Rat's Daughter</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">88</td> +<td><b>The Dream Daughter</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. & C. Askew</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">89</td> +<td><b>The Liberationist</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">90</td> +<td><b>Lord Stranleigh Abroad</b></td> +<td class="ralign">R. Barr</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">91</td> +<td><b>Jeanne of the Marshes</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">92</td> +<td><b>A Race with Ruin</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Headon Hill</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">93</td> +<td><b>A Fatal Legacy</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Louis Tracy</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">95</td> +<td><b>A Fatal Dose</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Fred M. White</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">96</td> +<td><b>The Kidnapped President</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">97</td> +<td><b>The People of the River</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Edgar Wallace</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">98</td> +<td><b>Christina</b></td> +<td class="ralign">L. G. Moberly</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">99</td> +<td><b>The Master Mummer</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">100</td> +<td><b>The Golden Girl</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. & C. Askew</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">101</td> +<td><b>The Silent Barrier</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Louis Tracy</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">102</td> +<td><b>The Cottage in the Chine</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Headon Hill</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">103</td> +<td><b>My Indian Queen</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">104</td> +<td><b>The Idol of the Town</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Wm. Le Queux</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9a" id="Page_9a">[Pg 9]</a></span>105</td> +<td><b>False Evidence</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">106</td> +<td><b>The Cardinal Moth</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Fred M. White</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">107</td> +<td><b>The Protector</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">108</td> +<td><b>His Little Girl</b></td> +<td class="ralign">L. G. Moberly</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">109</td> +<td><b>White Walls</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Max Pemberton</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">110</td> +<td><b>Money or Wife</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Effie A. Rowlands</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">111</td> +<td><b>Farewell, Nikola</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">112</td> +<td><b>The Council of Justice</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. Wallace</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">113</td> +<td><b>The House Next Door</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. & C. Askew</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">114</td> +<td><b>Conspirators</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">115</td> +<td><b>The Master Spirit</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Sir Wm. Magnay</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">116</td> +<td><b>A Traitor's Wooing</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Headon Hill</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">117</td> +<td><b>Sheilah McLeod</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">118</td> +<td><b>The Sign of the Stranger</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Wm. Le Queux</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">119</td> +<td><b>The Pioneer</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">120</td> +<td><b>The Open Door</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Fred M. White</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">121</td> +<td><b>The Betrayal</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">122</td> +<td><b>Diana</b></td> +<td class="ralign">L. G. Moberly</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">123</td> +<td><b>The Vow</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Paul Trent</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">124</td> +<td><b>Fennell's Tower</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Louis Tracy</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">125</td> +<td><b>The Admirable Carfew</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. Wallace</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">126</td> +<td><b>Through Folly's Mill</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. & C. Askew</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">127</td> +<td><b>Love Made Manifest</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">128</td> +<td><b>The Tickencote Treasure</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Wm. Le Queux</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">129</td> +<td><b>Craven Fortune</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Fred M. White</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">130</td> +<td><b>The Yellow Crayon</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">131</td> +<td><b>Cleansing Fires</b></td> +<td class="ralign">L. G. Moberly</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">132</td> +<td><b>The Lovers</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Eden Phillpotts</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">133</td> +<td><b>Sunset and Dawn</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Effie A. Rowlands</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">134</td> +<td><b>The Trustee</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">135</td> +<td><b>The Foundling</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Paul Trent</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">136</td> +<td><b>The Heir to the Throne</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. W. Marchmont</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10a" id="Page_10a">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> + + +<h3 class="gap3">WARD, LOCK & CO.'S</h3> + +<h2>Sixpenny Copyright</h2> + +<h2>NOVELS</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>Large Demy 8vo. Coloured Covers. Price 6d.</i></p> + +<table summary="6d fiction"> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">1</td> +<td><b>A Bid for Fortune</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">18</td> +<td><b>A Monk of Cruta</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">26</td> +<td><b>A Daughter of the Marionis</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">33</td> +<td><b>Love Made Manifest</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">48</td> +<td><b>The Secret Service</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Wm. Le Queux</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">51</td> +<td><b>The Temptress</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Wm. Le Queux</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">73</td> +<td><b>Belles and Ringers</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Hawley Smart</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">74</td> +<td><b>Sarchedon</b></td> +<td class="ralign">G. J. Whyte-Melville</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">77</td> +<td><b>Across the World for a Wife</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">82</td> +<td><b>A Sailor's Bride</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">87</td> +<td><b>The Survivor</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">98</td> +<td><b>In Strange Company</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">116</td> +<td><b>The Traitors</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">122</td> +<td><b>Dr. Nikola</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">127</td> +<td><b>The Crimson Blind</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Fred M. White</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">145</td> +<td><b>A Bid for Freedom</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">155</td> +<td><b>The Betrayal</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">160</td> +<td><b>A Study in Scarlet</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. Conan Doyle</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11a" id="Page_11a">[Pg 11]</a></span>171</td> +<td><b>The Master Mummer</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">179</td> +<td><b>The King of Diamonds</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Louis Tracy</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">199</td> +<td><b>Beneath Her Station</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">233</td> +<td><b>The Liberationist</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">237</td> +<td><b>The Mother</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Eden Phillpotts</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">248</td> +<td><b>The League of the Leopard</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">266</td> +<td><b>The Powers of Mischief</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Sir Wm. Magnay, Bart.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">277</td> +<td><b>The Sundial</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Fred. M. White</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">279</td> +<td><b>In White Raiment</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Wm. Le Queux</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">282</td> +<td><b>The Missioner</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">286</td> +<td><b>Lorna Doone</b></td> +<td class="ralign">R. D. Blackmore</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">305</td> +<td><b>The Sporting Chance</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. & C. Askew</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">323</td> +<td><b>Vivienne</b></td> +<td class="ralign">"Rita"</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">342</td> +<td><b>Countess Londa</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Guy Boothby</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">343</td> +<td><b>Heath Hover Mystery</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Bertram Mitford</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">351</td> +<td><b>The Sin of Alison Dering</b></td> +<td class="ralign">L. G. Moberly</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">355</td> +<td><b>Rogues in Arcady</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Sir Wm. Magnay</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">357</td> +<td><b>Jim Crowshaw's Mary</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Fred. M. White</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">361</td> +<td><b>Angela's Marriage</b></td> +<td class="ralign">L. G. Moberly</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">362</td> +<td><b>Bianca's Daughter</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Justus M. Forman</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">365</td> +<td><b>The Legacy</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. & C. Askew</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">367</td> +<td><b>A Son of the Immortals</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Louis Tracy</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">368</td> +<td><b>The Witness of the Ring</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Marie Connor Leighton</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">369</td> +<td><b>Christina</b></td> +<td class="ralign">L. G. Moberly</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">370</td> +<td><b>Mr. Marx's Secret</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">372</td> +<td><b>Lady Clara</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Fred M. White</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">374</td> +<td><b>The Secret of the Sands</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Fred M. White</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">375</td> +<td><b>The House of the Black Panther</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. & C. Askew</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">376</td> +<td><b>Hawtrey's Deputy</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">377</td> +<td><b>The Mystery Queen</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Fergus Hume</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">379</td> +<td><b>Sylvia's Chauffeur</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Louis Tracy</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12a" id="Page_12a">[Pg 12]</a></span>381</td> +<td><b>The Peer and the Women</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">382</td> +<td><b>A Scarlet Sin</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. & C. Askew</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">383</td> +<td><b>Her Sacrifice</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Arthur Applin</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">384</td> +<td><b>Justice</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Marie Connor Leighton</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">386</td> +<td><b>His Little Girl</b></td> +<td class="ralign">L. G. Moberly</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">387</td> +<td><b>Radford Shone</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Headon Hill</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">388</td> +<td><b>The Open Door</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Fred M. White</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">409</td> +<td><b>A Prince of Darkness</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Florence Warden</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">412</td> +<td><b>The Van Dylk Diamonds</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Arthur Applin</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">417</td> +<td><b>Pallard, the Punter</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Edgar Wallace</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">420</td> +<td><b>The Supplanter</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Paul Trent</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">422</td> +<td><b>Until Seventy Times Seven</b></td> +<td class="ralign">L. G. Moberly</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">423</td> +<td><b>The Secret Cargo</b></td> +<td class="ralign">J. S. Fletcher</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">425</td> +<td><b>A Royal Wrong</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Fred M. White</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">428</td> +<td><b>One of the Family</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Keble Howard</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">429</td> +<td><b>Ducks and Drakes</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Marie Connor Leighton</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">430</td> +<td><b>Gilded London</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. & C. Askew</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">431</td> +<td><b>That Preposterous Will</b></td> +<td class="ralign">L. G. Moberly</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">450</td> +<td><b>The Court of the Angels</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Justus M. Forman</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">469</td> +<td><b>False Evidence</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. P. Oppenheim</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">472</td> +<td><b>The Woman Who Tempted</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Gertrude Warden</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">490</td> +<td><b>Souls in Pawn</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Lindsay Russell</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">494</td> +<td><b>Blackthorn Farm</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Arthur Applin</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">495</td> +<td><b>All Men are Liars</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Joseph Hocking</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">500</td> +<td><b>The Girl from Nippon</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Carlton Dawe</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">506</td> +<td><b>The Caretaker</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Fergus Hume</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">507</td> +<td><b>The Man Who Bought London</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Edgar Wallace</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">508</td> +<td><b>The Cloak of Darkness</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Sir Wm. Magnay</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">509</td> +<td><b>Paul Quentin</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Fred M. White</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">510</td> +<td><b>The Gates of Sorrow</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Marie Connor Leighton</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">511</td> +<td><b>Jabez Easterbrook</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Joseph Hocking</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13a" id="Page_13a">[Pg 13]</a></span>512</td> +<td><b>The Gates of Silence</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Lindsay Russell</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">514</td> +<td><b>After Long Years</b></td> +<td class="ralign">L. G. Moberly</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">515</td> +<td><b>The Flying Girl</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Richard Marsh</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">516</td> +<td><b>The King <i>versus</i> Wargrave</b></td> +<td class="ralign">J. S. Fletcher</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">517</td> +<td><b>The Weavers Plot</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. & C. Askew</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">518</td> +<td><b>The Opening Door</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Justus M. Forman</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">519</td> +<td><b>The Pearl Necklace</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Arthur Applin</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">520</td> +<td><b>Uncle Peter's Will</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Silas K. Hocking</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">521</td> +<td><b>A Woman's Word</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. & C. Askew</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">522</td> +<td><b>A Hazardous Wooing</b></td> +<td class="ralign">James Blyth</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">523</td> +<td><b>Human Nature</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Marie Connor Leighton</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">524</td> +<td><b>The Salt of the Earth</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Fred M. White</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">525</td> +<td><b>A Debt Discharged</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Edgar Wallace</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">526</td> +<td><b>The Annexation Society</b></td> +<td class="ralign">J. S. Fletcher</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">527</td> +<td><b>The Allinson Honour</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Harold Bindloss</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">528</td> +<td><b>The Wraith of Olverstone</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Florence Warden</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">529</td> +<td><b>The Interior</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Lindsay Russell</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">530</td> +<td><b>The Footlight Glare</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. & C. Askew</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">531</td> +<td><b>The Open Road</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Halliwell Sutcliffe</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">532</td> +<td><b>The Master of Merripit</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Eden Phillpotts</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">533</td> +<td><b>The Atonement</b></td> +<td class="ralign">James Blyth</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">534</td> +<td><b>An Enemy Hath Done This</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Joseph Hocking</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">535</td> +<td><b>In the Cause of Freedom</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. W. Marchmont</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">536</td> +<td><b>Story of a Great Sin</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Marie Connor Leighton</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">537</td> +<td><b>The Red Bicycle</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Fergus Hume</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">538</td> +<td><b>Maid Marjory</b></td> +<td class="ralign">L. G. Moberly</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">539</td> +<td><b>The Little Anarchist</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. W. Marchmont</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">540</td> +<td><b>A Maker of Secrets</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Wm. Le Queux</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">541</td> +<td><b>Max Logan</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Paul Trent</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">542</td> +<td><b>Ambition's Slave</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Fred M. White</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">543</td> +<td><b>The Tomb of Ts'in</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Edgar Wallace</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14a" id="Page_14a">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + + +<h3 class="gap3">WARD, LOCK & CO.'S</h3> + +<h2>STANDARD & DETECTIVE +NOVELS</h2> + +<p class="center"><i>Large Demy 8vo. Attractive Wrapper and +Frontispiece. 6d.</i></p> + +<table summary="Standard and Detective Fiction"> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">2</td> +<td><b>Kenilworth</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Sir Walter Scott</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">12</td> +<td><b>Midshipman Easy</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Capt. Marryat</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">13</td> +<td><b>Japhet in Search of a Father</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">14</td> +<td><b>Jacob Faithful</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">15</td> +<td><b>Peter Simple</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">16</td> +<td><b>The Pickwick Papers</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Chas. Dickens</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">18</td> +<td><b>Barnaby Rudge</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">19</td> +<td><b>Old Curiosity Shop</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">20</td> +<td><b>Martin Chuzzlewit</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">21</td> +<td><b>Oliver Twist</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">22</td> +<td><b>Dombey and Son</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">26</td> +<td><b>The Innocents Abroad</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Mark Twain</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">27</td> +<td><b>Valentine Vox</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Henry Cockton</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">33</td> +<td><b>Ben-Hur</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Lew Wallace</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">37</td> +<td><b>Helen's Babies</b></td> +<td class="ralign">J. Habberton</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">38</td> +<td><b>Other People's Children</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">39</td> +<td><b>A Bad Boy's Diary</b></td> +<td></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">40</td> +<td><b>Blunders of a Bashful Man</b></td> +<td></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">41</td> +<td><b>Catching a Husband</b></td> +<td></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">45</td> +<td><b>Out of the Hurly Burly</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Max Adeler</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">48</td> +<td><b>A Strange Disappearance</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. K. Green</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">51</td> +<td><b>The Leavenworth Case</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">52</td> +<td><b>The Circular Study</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15a" id="Page_15a">[Pg 15]</a></span>53</td> +<td><b>Marked "Personal"</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">59</td> +<td><b>Shadowed by Three</b></td> +<td class="ralign">L. L. Lynch</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">61</td> +<td><b>The Diamond Coterie</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">62</td> +<td><b>Detective's Daughter</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">63</td> +<td><b>Out of a Labyrinth</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">65</td> +<td><b>The Lost Witness</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">68</td> +<td><b>A Slender Clue</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">76</td> +<td><b>Toilers of the Sea</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Victor Hugo</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">77</td> +<td><b>History of a Crime</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">78</td> +<td><b>Ninety-Three</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">80</td> +<td><b>Margaret Catchpole</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Rev. R. Cobbold</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">81</td> +<td><b>Freston Tower</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">84</td> +<td><b>The Mystery of Orcival</b></td> +<td class="ralign">E. Gaboriau</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">85</td> +<td><b>Detective's Dilemma</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">86</td> +<td><b>Detective's Triumph</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">88</td> +<td><b>Caught in the Net</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">89</td> +<td><b>The Champdoce Mystery</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">91</td> +<td><b>Mr. Barnes of New York</b></td> +<td class="ralign">A. C. Gunter</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">92</td> +<td><b>The Princess of Copper</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">95</td> +<td><b>Jane Eyre</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Charlotte Brontë</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">97</td> +<td><b>Looking Backward</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Edward Bellamy</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">103</td> +<td><b>Frank Fairlegh</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Frank Smedley</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">104</td> +<td><b>Alice's Adventures in Wonderland</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Lewis Carroll</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">106</td> +<td><b>Tom Brown's School Days</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Hughes</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">133</td> +<td><b>Crime and the Criminal</b></td> +<td class="ralign">R. Marsh</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">150</td> +<td><b>Her Splendid Sin</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Headon Hill</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">151</td> +<td><b>Caged</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">152</td> +<td><b>The Avengers</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">160</td> +<td><b>Lorna Doone</b></td> +<td class="ralign">R. Blackmore</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">162</td> +<td><b>For the Term of His Natural Life</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Marcus Clarke</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">169</td> +<td><b>East Lynne</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Mrs. Henry Wood</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">171</td> +<td><b>The Shadow of Ashlydyat</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">172</td> +<td><b>The Channings</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">173</td> +<td><b>Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="ralign">175</td> +<td><b>Roland Yorke</b></td> +<td class="ralign">Ditto</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16a" id="Page_16a">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter gap3" style="width: 158px;"> +<img src="images/image002.jpg" width="158" height="156" alt="Decoration" title="" /> +</div> +<p class="center gap3">Ward, Lock & Co., Ltd., London, Melbourne & Toronto.</p> + +<div class="bbox gap3" style="padding:1em;"> +<h3>TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES</h3> +<p>Page 6: FREMY standardised to FRÉMY; SURETE standardised to SURETÉ</p> +<p>Page 33: hand-bag standardised to handbag</p> +<p>Page 35: Placé in the phrase "in the Placé Vendôme" as in the original</p> +<p>Page 41: " changed to ' before You—you blackguard, and after You've—you've killed me!</p> +<p>Page 42: note-paper standardised to notepaper</p> +<p>Page 47: anenomes corrected to anemones in the phrase "drooping red anenomes"; manservant standardised to man-servant</p> +<p>Page 126: reopened standardised to re-opened</p> +<p>Page 127: " removed before If so, what then?</p> +<p>Page 148: repass standardised to re-pass</p> +<p>Page 150: over-burdened standardised to overburdened</p> +<p>Page 160: nonplussed standardised to non-plussed in His question non-plussed me.</p> +<p>Page 166: arm-chair standardised to armchair</p> +<p>Page 202: " added after must have happened to her.</p> +<p>Page 210: " changed to ' before You blackguard, Cane and ' added after why, you've killed me!</p> +<p>Page 218: ? after No, don't do that as in the original</p> +<p>Page 240: Bon jour spaced as in the original</p> +<p>Page 244: " added after Here is the reply,</p> +<p>Page 249: . added after non-plussed me for the moment</p> +<p>Page 257: ' corrected to " before My interests!</p> +<p>Page 267: " added after round of France.</p> +<p>Page 269: . added after I asked frantically</p> +<p>Advertising page 9: Author of 108. His Little Girl standardised to Moberly</p> +<p>Advertising page 14: Blank author names as in original</p> + +<p>General: variable hyphenation of street-lamp and street lamp as in the original</p> + +</div> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30477 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/30477-h/images/image001.jpg b/30477-h/images/image001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..e44632c --- /dev/null +++ b/30477-h/images/image001.jpg diff --git a/30477-h/images/image002.jpg b/30477-h/images/image002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0b459ef --- /dev/null +++ b/30477-h/images/image002.jpg |
