Abergavenny Chronicle

I = S [iix BlOHTI ElSIftTBD.] a a 1 s FATAL FINGERS 1 s a By WILLIAM LE QUEUX, =  Author of The Mon?y Spider,  3 Author of The Money Spider," The Riddle of the Ring," loss I.I. I  auiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiHuuiiiiiuiiiuik.miiiuii CHAPTER XXIV. IN FADED INK. The month of May. A still and brilliant night in the Vinbrian hills. The whole world of mountain and valley seemed to be lost in a soft veil of blue, spangled with gold. Far away over the jagged crests of the A pennines- 'like a horn of pallid gold, like a silver sickle for some precious harvest, the moon hung over the world that in her light was visible ever so faintly, as though seen through some impalpable but lovely veil. OH Don Mario let himself noiselessly out of the battered oaken door of the presby- terv. Its hinges had been well oiled long ago, for, truth to tell, he took frequent nocturnal rambles unknown to old Teresa, to his English guest, or to the slumbering village. As he halted in the little piazza with its dark shadows beneath the planes there was no sound except the distant wailing of a dog. Santa Lucia went to bed early, and rose with the dawn. And when it slept no watch was kept by police, for like many another bad" village in Italy, the cara- bineers always gave it a wide berth. Therefore Don Mario did not fear obser- ^ivation or comment. if His habit was to rise at half-past one o'clock, dress, and go forth into the night, just as he had now emerged. For fully five minutes the old curato stood gazing away into the night, then, with noiseless tread—for he always wore his felt-soled slippers on his nocturnal excur- sions-he turned and, descending a short, narrow lane, skirted the great ruined walla of the village, and was quickly out in the open country below. He walked briskly along a bypath through the vines until he had descended the steep hill, then crossing the maize fields he entered a small wood of chestnuts, following a narrow, tortuous path which led at last to a small, half-ruined cottage, the broken windows of which had been boarded up—the house of an old contadino who had died, and whose sons had emi- grated to England. Producing an electric torch from his pocket, the old priest put a key into the latch and next moment was within. The lamp, which he. lit quickly, revealed a weird, unusual interior—an old kitchen, at one end of which was a long brick stove with four holes for burning charcoal, at the other a table upon which were many glass vessels, a marble mortar and pestle, and come small heaps of dried herbs. One of the fires, which had apparently be-ea banked up many hours ago, still glowed red. and upon it was a small retort, for some distillation was in progress—some long and elaborate process without a doubt. By the light of the lamp the old priest. first divested himself of his cassock, then taking a pair of india-rubber gloves from a drawer in the table, he put them on and began to examine the retort, from which emanated a delicate perfume as pungent and subtle as fome new Parisian extract. A rough-haired terrier tied up near the etove whined to be released, and licked his hand. He had brought it there on the previous night. But he cuffed it back roughly, muttering some execration in Italian-. A long wooden box stood close by, and the Hght of the lamp aroused its imprisoned inmates who showed at the bars. They were large brown rabbits. Don Mario had rolled up his shirt-sleeves ana was poking the fire, when suddenly he halted and held his breath. He thought he detected a noise outside, and listened. But at last, after long and careful investigation, he satisfied himself that the wind had suddenly sprung up, and that the branch of a rose tree had struck the boards nailed before the window. "No," he murmured to himself in Italian, "nobody dare come here. The people are superstitious. Seven years ago when old Antonio died in this kitchen, I told them that he had been strangled by the devil, and I warned the village that anyone coming to the accursed house might share the same fate. The Evil Eye would be directed upon them, and ill-fortune would befall them and theirs. And "—he chuckled to himself— "not a man, woman, or child in Santa Lucia dare come near the place." Carrying the lamp back to the table, he commenced a careful examination of the various pots and glass phials upon it. In a large glass bowl stood some dark grey liquid with a few small brown leaves float- ing in it-evidently some decoction in pro- cess of manufacture. Still wearing his rubber gloves, he took a small portion of the liquid and placed it in a test tube. Then, lighting a small spirit lamp, he held it over the blue flame, every now and then carefully testing its tempera- ture by means of a tiny thermometer. At last, before it boiled, he added ten drops of a colourless liquid taken from the retort on the fire, counting them as they fell, end then held it up to the lamp-light. Its colour and character had become en- tirely changed. It was now perfectly clear, and of a deep bright blue.. "Benissimo he- ejaculated in complete satisfaction. "It is the first step towards success Afterwards he drew a broken rush-seated chair towards the table, and, taking from his cassock a small roll of brown parchment, spread it out beneath the lamp-light. It was in Latin-an ancient and much- faded parchment. He had bought it for a few soldi from an old man in Acquapen- dente, who had discovered it while demolish- ing an ancient house in the village. The man had found it preserved in a small cylinder of rusty iron and concealed in a hole in the wall. When opened it was about ten inches long by five wide, and covered with neat, even writing in ancient characters, much of which was so faded as to be hardly decipherable. One corner was ragged, while upon it were dark brown stains of damp, or of rust from the iron cylinder in which it had been preserved. "Twelfth century," the old priest mur- mured to himself, as he put on his big, heavy-rimmed glasses the magnifying glasses he always used when pursuing Ihis paloeographical studies. "That is evident from the signs for 'et,' and by the 'a's' Then he read and re-read several lines against which he had placed marks. Yes," he went on, "I have carried out all the instructions to the very letter. SOOIl- very soon, we shall see whether the result is such as is claimed. The record bears upon its face the mark of being genuine. I am more than ever convinced that it ia the actual lost secret of the great Doge Dandolo of Venice, the man who swept away his enemies like flies and who cap- tured Constantinople! The two Foscari are known to have possessed it, and used it, and now-now it has fallen into my hands Yes, I am certain it is what I suspect. And I bought it—the secret of the Doge Dandolo— for ten soldi!" Slowly he deciphered word after word, chuckling to himself, his hook-nose the more accentuated until, bent beneath the lamp, he looked like some evil bird of prey, liiuimiiiiiimiiisiiujUHiiiiiuiiiuuinihUf: gloating eagerly over the triumpn wmch no knew must be his. From the pocket of his ragged carsock he took two letters. One was written in Ger- man, and as he read it he smiled. Enclosed was a German bank-note for five hundred marks. "To be sent to the post-restante at Cologne," lie muttered as he read. "I wonder what this Ilerr Mayer yr. tends? Tired of his wife, perhaps—or waiting for dead men's shoes! It is always either for love—or for money. Yet I sell them what they want, and it matters not to me to what use it may be put." The other letter boro the Paris post- mark, a few lines in a well-educated, feminine hand, addressed to a certain Signor Corradini at a newspaper shop in Dean Street, Soho, London. A thousand- franc note was enclosed with a request that "the medicine" be sent to Madame Lam- bert, in the Rue Muret, at Chartres. The writer, judging from the note-paper, was some elegant Parisienne, who had arranged to have the "medicine" sent to a maid, or some friend in w hom she could trust. At regular intervals letters addressed to that obscure newsvendor's in Soho in the name of Corradini were sent to him in Italy. Surely it was a strange correspon- dence. "Dio mio!" he laughed as he turned over the Frenchwoman's letter. "I have, indeed, a curious clientele! Some of them come rgain and again, growing more daring when they learn that in effecting its purpose it leaves no trace. Parents rid themselves of their children, husbands their wives, women their lovers, men their mistresses or their enemies, and the fatalities are all declared to be due to natural causes! In few cases- only with the foolish bunglers-is the truth suspected, yet it cannot be proved in the absence of any trace." And he paused, the Frenchwoman's letter still in his hand. "Wants freedom from an odious marriage, without a doubt, and has heard of the mar- vellous cures of Giovanni Corradini," he went on. "Well, well-if I dared to speak I could tell the police some very strange stories. Most of my clients use fictitious names for obvious reasons, yet in many cases I have made inquiry, and before supplying the medicine' have ascertained the real name of the person who has sought my assistance. Often have I been utterly stag- gered. Some of the greatest men and women in Europe have been my clients, and the heart secret of many a bereaved man and woman I could, if I chose, lay bare. Ah! yes," sighed the old man, "my friends are, indeed, a very strange set." The small test-tube containing the blue liquid had now cooled, and replacing the letters in his cassock he re-lit the small glass spirit-lamp, and after adding twenty drops of a certain red fluid, as set out in the crinkled, half-effaced parchment, he again replaced tile tube over the blue flame, and, leaning his elbows on the table, watched it boil. 0 "Diavolo!" he muttered to himself. "How people bungle! Poor Contessa Vanni! What a story in the Corriere della Sera' the day before yesterday. A month ago she wrote to London under the name of Annetta Bardi and gave her address at the Hotel Europe, in Turin. I sent the extract, and a week later her lover killed her husband, Count Francesco Vanni, in their palazzo at Bologna. But she showed fear, was sus- pected. arrested, and now has confessed. It is really most annoying. I shall now have to change the address from London to Paris, as she may tell whence she obtained the few drops of extract, and a trap may be set. A trap! And yet I have successfully avoided all traps for the past eleven years!" he laughed harshly. "This world of ours is indeed a curious study, and perhaps no more lucrative profession exists than that which I have followed with so much success and in such secrecy!" He was watching the bubbling of the liquid in the glass tube above the flame. It nad turned a bright orange He placed his watch on the table beside him, and then slowly, and very carefully, re-read the direc- tions in the ancient manuscript. Presently, from the capacious pocket of his old cassock, as it hung upon a nnll, he drew forth a tiny wooden box, which on being opened disclosed a few small, white crystals. With a pair of tweezers, and still wearing the gloves, he took a single crystal and dropped it into the orange-coloured fluid, when at once it turned a dark, dull green. He again referred to the manuscript, and well-satisfied at the result obtained, he blew out the flame to allow it to cool. "If it is what is claimed, then it is a far safer and more potent spinal poison than the other. Against the one I have placed in commerce the difficulty has always been its subcutaneous injection. But this—this is most terrible and fatal-a mere touch ex- ternally upon the skin and the noxious action upon the body will commence, and terminate with death. But we will see." And taking a small quantity of fine white powder he spread it upon a piece of glass and upon it poured out a few drops of the dark green liquid, which the powder at once absorbed. Then releasing the whining dog, which at once turned and tried to lick his face, he took a pair of scissors and clipped off closely a portion of the fur beneath the shoulder where the skin showed pink and tender. Then, dipping the finger of his safety- glove into the damp powder upon the glass, he applied it to the animal's skin, stroking it three times across the spot whence the hair had been removed. Afterwards he released the animal, which began to frisk as before, wagging his tail merrily while the hook-nosed old man watched calmly. Twenty seconds later by his watch the animal suddenly halted. A convulsive shiver shook its frame. Its body began to twist with short, spasmodic movements, and it looked up, crying piteouslv at its tor- turer. In forty seconds from the time of the deadly application it was lying upon its back, its body writhing and distorted in seventy seconds it lay stretched out dead. "Benissimo! cried the old priest, rubbing his gloved hands enthusiastically. "Here at last. I have iccovered the secret of the ex- ternal poison of the ancients—the means by which whole families may, if necessary, be wiped out without the slightest danger, or even suspicion. A new commodity for my clients!" he laughed aloud. "W hen it be- comes known what I can now supply—that a small quantity dusted into a glove, placed upon the handle of a knife, or upon the pages of a book, will produce the desired effect, then there will be a rush to secure some—just as before." He paused, glancing across at the dog's body lying in the shadow. "It is roally surprising," he went on, still murmuring to himself, "surprising how, without advertisement, one receives those well disguised applications, accompanied always by remittances.' But it must he given a real and actual trial-upon the human as well as upon the animal bodv." And beneath the lamp-light his aquiline I face relaxed into a dark, evil grin. An owl was hooting mournfully outside. I It was the only sound. In that ruined place a great and appalling fact had been rediscovered—the means by which human life could he destroyed in de- fiance of detection, or of all the tests of the modern analyst. I« Surely the thin, gloved right hand of Don Mario ISIellini was the Hand of Death! I CHAPTER XXV. I CONCERNS THE UNEXPECTED. The old priest rose unceremoniously, kicked the dog's body away beneath a bench out of sight, and then, returning to the table, carefully collected the fatal powder, dried it, and placed it in a tiny glass- stoppered phial. After spreading some more of the powdei upon the glass, he treated it in a similar fashion, afterwards drying it by holding the sheet of glass over the flame of the spirit, lamp and continually moving it. Having thus exhausted all the fluid, the ingredients of which had taken him over a fortnight to prepare, he placed the powder in the phial, which he carefully sealed with black wax. The old man, bent to his work of sealing up the deadly compound he had prepared, was, truth to tell, one of the greatest ex- perts in Europe .upon the history and pro- perties of poisons and their effect upon the living body. Beneath the cloak of religion he had for many years prosecuted experiments, both in the small back room in his own presbytery —which he always kept locked from old Teresa-and in that secret laboratory where- in he was now closeted. He was speaking to himself in Italian as he dropped the hot wax upon the glass- stopper of the phial. "The truth contained in this manuscript," he murmured, "has upset all the previous theories and calculations of toxicologists. Absorption has been believed to vary in its degree and rapidity, not only according to the state of the poison, but according to the nature of the surface to which it is applied. All the known poisons which can be ab- sorbed through the unbroken skin, such as belladonna, creosote, prussic acid, morphia and the like, are absorbed slowly; when the cuticle is removed and the surface of the true skin is laid bare, then the absorption takes place with much greater rapidity. In this discovery of mine, the substance itself seems to act chemically upon the skin and thus leads to rapid and complete absorp- tion. He took the lamp, recovered the dog's body, and examined the place whereon he had rubbed the deadly powder. There was no mark whatever upon the skin-nothing to show how death had been caused. "For a woman," he laughed, "the powder may be darkened and placed upon her hair- comb. For a man, a little upon his pen- holder, the handle of his walking-stick, or upon his shaving-soap. A disease of the 3pinal marrow will at once be caused—an unknown disease—which will puzzle the whole medical profession. In the manu- script the symptoms are described—violent spasms, the limbs separated, stiff and rigid, and violent shakings of the whole body. At Brst the spasms are marked down the back and legs. but after the lapse of a brief period they fix upon the chest, and violent tetanus, with fixation of the muscles of re- spiration, death supervening with the intel- lect perfectly clear. In the dog, those symptoms have been exact-so they will be in the case of the person upon whom experi- ment must be made." Don Mario's source of income was surely an amazing one. His snug bank-balance was being constantly added to by t hose mysterious remittances which were reaching him so frequently from all corners oi Europe. He had removed the gloves he always wore for safety, and opening a drawer in a rickety old cupboard took out a tiny glass tube, an inch long, sealed with red wax, md a small, sharp,, hollow steel pin, about 'our inches long and ending with an india- rubber bulb, something like the filler for a fountain pen. After scribbling a few words in pencil on a piece of paper, he packed them together in cotton wool in a small box--a poisoner's outfit—and after sealing it for registered post, wrote upon it the address of Madame Lambert in the Rue Muret, at Chartres, France. The directions were to press the rubber bulb and so take up the contents of the sealed phial. Then on touching the living fiosh with the hollow pin, the fatal fluid could be injected like the fang1 of a serpent. It was strongly recommended that the victim be approached while asleep, and if possible the instrument should be applied to the scalp, as the hair would then hide the puncture. The pin and phial must at once be got rid of—by burning, if possible. This mode of destroying life was quite simple and effective—and it was popular. Italy has ever been the home of the poisoner. From the earliest days the subtle poisons of the ancients came thence, and to- day there lived in that obscure rock-village the man to whose deadly preparation hun- dreds of villainous deaths in various towns and cities had been due. He, the man charged with the cure of souls-the man who gabbled mass each day in that gloomy church heavy with the odour of incense- supplied men and women with the where- withal to destroy life, to sweep away their enemies and to profit by the sudden death of their friends. In every prefecture of police in Europe it had been suspected that t ?,ere existed a man who supplied secretly some subtle and re- markable poison to purchasers. But so cleverly had Don Mario acted, and so wary was he always, that he had never been sus- pected. He had clients who wrote again and again for that curious little outfit. And often when he received from far distant cities those repeat orders he wondered what was in progress, and longed to know the tragic truth. One success always induced the perpetrator to effect a further coup. As many as half-a-dozen times had the order been repeated' in certain cases, which showed plainly that one victim after another had fallen. In the few cases in the South of Europe where the puncture had been discovered, it had invariably been attributed to the bite of a venomous snake, 60 closely did it re- semble it. And yet no reptile had been die- covered. Presently he took out a second outfit, phial, and pin complete, and, carefully packing it, addressed it to Herr Herman Mayer, at the Post Restantc in Cologne. Both packets ha placed in the capacious pocket of his old cassock, his intention being to send them over the mountains into Perugia on the morrow, to be despatched by post from there. He was too wary either to receive correspondence or despatch the "ex- tracts" from the little post-office at Santa Lucia. Before the dull gilt altar, with ita tawdry decorations, this man so often chanted with that slow, droning nasal intonation: "Miserere mei, Deus: secundum magnam misericordiam tuam. Et secundum multi- tudinem miserationum tuarum: dele iniqui- tatem meam." And yet he despatched that fatal extract, well knowing for what das- tardly purpose it was required. He always sent the little outfit anonymously. The letters to the mysterious Signor Corradini were forwarded from the newsvendor's ili Dean Street, Soho, thence to a house in the Place Vert in Antwerp, whence they were sent to a friend in Paris, who in turn sent them to the curato of Santa Lucia-the pious, sedate and sympathetic priest who led such a quiet and colourless life. Yet this man, who fasted daily before saying mass, and who was "0 observant of all. the rules of his religion, was reaping a golden harvest from those anxious and eager to commit murder without risk of detection. (To be Continued).