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I SPLENDID OPPORTUNITIES.

---. THE MURDER IN THE IRUE…

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THE MURDER IN THE RUE DE GAIETE. By A. G. MACDONALD, Author of "The Prefect of A- &C. OHAPTEI I. N the yonr 18-1 obtained iny degree cf medicine in the University of London. My late hard studies had seriously impaired my health, and taking the advice of friends, I started on a Continental t-)ur, in the hope that a change of life and scene -iglit thoroughly recruit my shattered constitution. In the course of my travels I at length found myself in piri. til,,Lt gay city where lire seem-t to be spent in one eternal, whirl of pleasure. Naturally of a re served and retiring disposition, I found little pleasure in the class of amusement that com. mends itself to most men. Theatres and music- halls had no attraction for me. My only recre- ation lay in the indulgence of long walks in the outskirts of the city, where in solitude and quietness I could commune with my thoughts, 'I free from the bustle and excitement of the public streets. One evening after I had been located in Paris only a few weeks, I found that in pursuit of my favourite exercise I had wandered further from tbe city than had been my original intention. It was now quite dark, and I prepared at once to retrace my steps. To my consternation I dis- covered that my rr.ind had been so occupied with problems and theories in connection with my medical studies that I had entirely neglected to observe the route I had taken-in a word, I had lost my way. The city lay behind me. I saw the glare of its j j —- lights, so guided by them I endeavoured to find the road that would ullimately enable me to reach my home in safety. I found the taK anythitl but an easy one. It was pitoh dark, the moon had not yet risen, and I could not see a yard befcreme. At lesigtil, confused and bewildered, I came to a dead halt. At that moment the sound of a horse champing its bit foil on my ear. Guiding myself as best I could in the direction from whence the sound came, I suddenly came violently in contact with some dark object standing ill the roadway. Before I had time to recover from the shock a bright light flashed upon the spot where I had stood, andl became aware that I Was in the immedjate vicinity of a. palatial dwelling, one of the windows of which had that instant been illumined. For some few minutes my eyes were rendered useless owing to the sudden transition from dark. ness to light. At Jength I was able to perceive that I was standing within a few inches of a horse, secured by ,t6 hoad to a light wooden paling surrounding the house. I was just beginning to conjecture what could be the reason for tbe animal being left m tins strange position, made more un- accountable by the fact of its ownsr not being present, when a low grating sound, us of a window being softly drawn up, fell oil my ear. The next I moment a suppressed cry of terror and alarm in a W()Man'ti voice broke the death-like silence, and the figure of a man was, thrown 00 the blind of the windtlw, from whence the bright light shone. An indescribable feeling of terror crept over me. There was no mistaking the meaning of that terrible cry. It was the cry of a human being in all the agony of hopele,8 .Iellpair. An irrosistible impulse seized me. Climbing the low wooden fende, I reached the building. A large peach rte, with Hpreadmg hranches. was trained against tho outside wall. By it8 friendly aid I soon reached the window, and what a scene met. mv view Through a chink in the blind I saw the interior of the room distinctly. It was brilliantly lit; only two persons were in it, a man, a tall, powerfully-built man, and a woman. The man had his; bick to me. The young girl was dressed in full evening costume; she had her face towards me; she was fast losing contciousnpiss her swollen, discoloured face, with its starting eye- I balls, told that. The murderer had his left hand on her throat. The struggle had evidently been a severe one, for the victim's dress was dis- arranged and torn, and her long, golden hair had burst from its fastening., and had fallen in disordered masses over her shoulders and bosom. The murderer's right hand was raised. In it he held a long dagger or knife, With one rapid movement it descended, a stream of blood spouted from the gaping wottnd, and, with a heavy, gasping sigh, the girl sank lifeless to the floor. I was petrified with horror. I seemed to be in a dream, and yet not dreaming. The horror of the scene I had witnessed froze the very blood in my veins. The power of speech, the power of reason, the power of preventing the fell work, all alike seemed to be taken from me. How I had presence of mind to retain my hold in the dan. gerous position in which I was placed I knew not. I tried to scream for assistance, but my lips refund to give utterance to the slightest sound. I was fascinated with terror; my eyea were ri vetted on the terrible eceue before me. The murderer stood motionlesp, glJzill at his victim. A revulsion of feolmg seemed suddenly to over- whelm him. Throwing himself on the bleed. ing form of the young girl, he frantically kissed the cold lips of the corpse. Suddenly be started to his feet. The sound of approaching footsteps had alarmed him. He turned and saw my face at tho window. With a hoarse cry he crossed the room, and made his escape from the scene of bis crime by an open window opposite, and was lost to my view in the d'lrk shadows Outside. The natural instinct of self-preservation came strong upon me. I became aware of the peril in which I was placed, the risk I ran of being accused of being the tterperator of murder were I discovered in my present position. My imperfect acquaintance with the language of the country would make it utterly impossible for me to coherently relate, with any prospect of credano6 being given to my story, what I had just seen, and my present state flf excitement would further increase the suspicion that would be sure to attach iUelf to me. With a violent effort I freed myself from the ohains of terror that bound me. As I reached the ground I heard A horse's hoofs clattering on the dark road, the sound gradually growing famter and fainter, till at length it died away in the distance. I was haunted by the face of the murdered girl every nook and corner seemed to contain her bleeding form. In the excited state of my nerves the terrible scene I had witnessed was Constantly before me. At length the moon rose, and by her pale blue light I was enabled to reach my home. I flung myself on a couch, where, with broken slumbers and horrible dreams, I wearily longed for the blessed light of day. Next morning my memory vividly retained I the events of the previous night, I was uri- i decided what course to pursue. At first I thought I of acquainting the authorities of wlia*" had I witnessed. The fear of being arrested myself for the crime deterred me, for I had enough knowledge of police procedure to be aware that, though the fact of my being in that locality could innocently enough be explained, the very simplicity of my story would in all likeli- hood made it the more difficult to be believed by men who, by reason of their vocation, had to deal with those whose every word was a lie, and every thought a crime. Ultimately I decided on saying nothing about the matter till at least I heard whether the murderer had been captured or not. With this resolve I descendod to the afreet, and soon found myself in a neighbouring cn.ré, which, as usual, was crowded with customers busily engaged in discussing the contents of the morning papers. I have said before that my knowledge of the French language was very limited, and, owing to the rapid manner in which my Com- panions conversed, I found myself utterly unable to understand their remarks, but I could easily see from their excited gestures that something of unusual interest was the topic of conversation. "Has anything seriouli occurred?" I asked of a man who sat at one of the tables, forgetting for the moment that it was possible he might not understand me. The man looked at me for a few moments in astonishment, and then replied in broken English. Has Monsieur not see the paper ? Hits he not heard the terrible news ?" I answered in the negative. The Marchioness de C- was murdered last night in her own house in the Rile de Gaiete.' The man must have noticed my excitement, for he immediately added, I see Monsieur is horrified. Choked first, Monsieur, then stabbed to the heart. The lovely Marchioness who had the whole of Paris at her feet. Mon Dieu what an end. It is ten thou- sand pities Monsieur." II And who committed this foul murder? I asked. t "That is the question everyone is asking. Mon- sieur. No one saw the murder committed. The Marchioness was at an evening party last night, and, saying she felt unwell, left earlier than usual. She would not allow the Marquis to accompany her. Tho footman who opened the door when she arriv«d home says she looked flashed and excited. She retired alone at once to her private apartment?. What occurred after no one knows, Monsieun The Marquis, feeling anxious about his lady, left the party almost immediately after her. When lie reached home he went straight to his wife's room, and, to his horror, found her lying on the floor in a pool of blood, dead. One of the windows in the room was wide open, but they say, Monsieur, that, the murderer must have entered the room by the other window, for the great peach tree growing on the wall has many of its branches broken, as if someone had climbed up it, and there are marks of horse's hoofs on the road out. side." The Frenchman stopped abruptly to sip his coffee. And-and," I stammered, scarcely knowing what I said, have they discovered what was the reason for committing the In ur(Jer "That is the greatest mystery of all, Monsieur. Though the Marchioness was wearing thousands of francs' worth of jewellery, not so much as a ring was touched. It is whispered, Monsieur, lowering his voice as he spoke, that the Mar- quis murdered iliA wife himself. He was terribly jealous of her. She was only a poor farmei's daughter in one of the provinces when he married her. Such iiiarriigfi4 seldom bring happiness with them, Monsieur." "Describe her husband, the Marquis, to roe, I eagerly demanded. The Frenchman shrugged his c-boulderfj and laughed. "Surely Monsieur has no lived long in Paris, Or ho would know the Marquis de C— Is he a tall, handsome man ?" I inquired. "Monsieur is surely joking. Would lie can a hunchback, soarcely higher than this table, u tall man? Would he call a lame man handsome? No, Monsieur. If the husband had been murdered Paris would not hava deplored it much, but to lose the loveliest of her women, it i. bard to bear." With this remark the little Frenchman lit his cigarette, and, bidding me good morning, left me. And as I had been the solitary spectator of thim mysterious crime, I felt tbftukful now that I had not divulged the secret, for I plainly saw that suspicion, made doubly strong by the fact of my being a foreigner, would have surely attached itself to me. Paris had no attraction for me now. Next day I left the city. Little did I think ps I left its towers and spires behind that the mystery of that terrible deed in the Rue de Giticti would be explained to me by the murderer himself in another lanJ, and under melancholy circum- stances, years after the crime had been perpe- trated. CHAPTER II. The older a man becomes the faster do the years speed over his head, and I can scarcely bring myself to believe that ten years have elapsed sime the events narrated in the preceding chapter occurred. It is long since I abandoned the medical profession, I soon found I could never hope to climb the laddet of fame by its aid. My reserved manner made me little adapted to succeed in walk of life where so much depends upon suavity and cheerfulness of disposition. I have devoted myself entirely to literary pursuits. The efforts of my pen have I been received with approbation bv crit;ox znA beeD received with approbation bv criti<"l and, public alike, and people point to me as being the most successful author of the age. I do not keep much company, though, heavens know:" every poat brinos me invitations to all sorts of entertainments. I have only one friend, and he comes up occasionally to see me in my quiet apartments. He is manager of a well- known metropolitan theatre, and is a little, stout, chatty, cheery follow, who seems to go through life with au eternal halo of sunshine around him. One evening the conversation fell on the merits and demerits of a play creating a great sensation just then. After my friend left the sudden thought struck me. should I not write a drama myself ? The more I considered the matter the more feasible the project appeared. The long-forgotten murder in tha Hue de Gaiete came vividly to my memory. Why not found my plot Oil it ? I set my imagi- uative faculties to work, and some after, when the drama was finished, I placed it in my friend's; hands for his perusal. To my great satisfaction the play met with his utmost approval. The white face at the window watching the mysterious murderer at his fell work is terribly sensational," he said. "However did you think of that?" I told him what I had seen that night in the Rue de Gaiete. And the rest of the story is what you imagine would impel a man to commit such a crime. Quite likely these Frenchmen are terrible devils when their jealousy is aroused. Who are we to get to play the murderer? There's a man who joined my company a short time ago from what I have seen of his acting I believe he would play the part to perfection. He speaks with a slightly foreign accent—all the better; it will make the character he depicts the more realistic." After soms further conversation my friend bid me good-night, and, departing, left me alone. To my great disappointment I was unable to attend the rehearsals of my drama, A violent attack of rheumatism, an illness to which I was subject, confined ma to my room. Days passed on, and to my satisfaction I found myself sufficiently recovered to be able to appear on tho first night of the production of iny play. The large buildiug was crowded to excess when I took my seat in the private box set apart for ma. All the wealth, beauty, and talent of the great metropolis was there. The fact of the new drama. being the work of an author who had already achieved success in a different branch of literature made it doubly attractive. The overture is played, and the curtain rises slowly on the fiist act. As I sat in my box watch- ing the development of the play the whole of my attention was naturally concentrated on the actor who played tho leading part, and on whom so much depended. He was a tall, powerfully, built, swarthy-complexioned man. To my astonishment, he seemed strangeiy nervous and excited. His face was pale as that of a corpse; he seemed to be labouring under some intense excitement, for, on more than one occasion, he passed his hand across his forehead as if with difficulty he was enabled to bring his faculties to bear on what surrounded him. Annoyed at the man's apathy, the audience showed distinct signs of disapprobation. Inwardly, I cursed the stupidity of a manager who placed such an important part in the hands of a maa who seemed utterly unfit to do it justice. 01 a sudden the man's whole manner changed with a violent effort he gained control over him- self. The last scene in the first act was reached, the scene in which he denounces the woman who has deceived him. The terrible reality of his suppressed passion sent a thrill through the vast assemblage, aud the death-like silence was only broken by tbe convulsive gasping words that burst from the while lips of the broken-hearted man. Amid a tremendous burst of applause the curtain fell, and in response to loud calls the actor appeared aud bowed his acknowledgments. As he passed mo, so close that I almost could have touched him, the footlights cast their glare full on his face. Ho was ghastly pal". An indescribable feeling of terror crept over mé. Like a vision in a dream, that white and livid face seemed strangely familiar to me; where bad I seen it before? A terrible thought passed through my mind could it be possible no, no. Again the sweet music swelled through the build- ing, drowning the hum of the many voices around me. Again the sound of the tinkling bell, and the curtain slowly rises. The pla.y proceeds, the terrible suspicion that fills my mind becomes stronger and stronger. Tho last act is leached, and the cuhoinating point in the drama ap- proaches. Again I see the brilliantly-lit room with the young girl in it; again I see the mur- derer approach her with stealthy, Cat-like stride; again see that terrible struggle for life; again that wild cry rings in my 6&r», and I see. as 1 saw it years before, in all its terrible reality, the white, hopeless, despairing face of the terror. stricken girl. Paralysed with terror, and for the moment in my excitement forgetting entirely where I was, with a hoarse cry I sprang to my The mur- derer turned and saw my startled, livid face. With ft wild, unearthly scream he raised his hands above his head, and fell with a heavy crash un. conscious on the floor. The terrible truth flashed upon me now: he had been depicting tha tragedy of his own life. The spectators, suddenly awakened from the spell that bound them, applauded vociferously a dark coloured liquid trickled from from the lips Of the unconscious man figures rushed from the wings to bis assistance, and the curtain fell rapidly. Something terrible had occurred, and the crowd conversed together in awe-stricken tones as they slowly left the theatre. I sat as if in a traMe, speechless and motionless. A hand was suddenly placed on my shoulder. I turned and saw the face of my friend, the manager. He is dying," he suddenly whispered, and wishes to see you." Mechanically I rose and followed him. With all the tinsel and mockery of pleasure around nim, there, Ott a rude bed, the sufferer lay with the clotted blood on his white lips. Leave me alone," he gasped to those around him as he saw me approaching. Monsieur," he muttered hoarsely, they tell me you are the author of that play. You have written the secret of my life. ITor ten long years I have struggled to forget the past, bub without avail. I am haunted by the face of that murdered girl. Even now," he continued wildly, I see it as plainly as I saw it on that night of horror. God knows how I loved her. An irresistible fas- cination compelled me to piny that part. It was the retribution of Heaven." He ceased speaking for a few seconds he lay back on his rude pallet utterly exhausted. Suddenly he started, and with a violent effort raised himseif on his elbow. Did the devil tempt you to write that play ♦ lie asked fiercely. 1 saw the murder committed," I answered simply. A terrible look passed over the dying mart's face. His eyes glared wildly at me. He sprang to his feet, a stream of blood spouted from his lips, the awful pallor of death was on his face. With a hoarse, Suffocating cry, he fell back. God had punished hjrn-he was dead The End.

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