Papurau Newydd Cymru

Chwiliwch 15 miliwn o erthyglau papurau newydd Cymru

Cuddio Rhestr Erthyglau

21 erthygl ar y dudalen hon

511 i III ; i i t i I ¡ i…

Newyddion
Dyfynnu
Rhannu

511 i III i i t i I ¡ i 1III i 1- i 1 ( i I i î I ¡ ¡ II I i III 11111 11111 II !I III! II1I II r t II r i III1 I r; (t I 1 SI [ALL RIGHTS RKSKBVID.] | FATAL FINGERS J S S JTr E? A ??T& r?j/?? LJV L? ir = By WILLIAM LE QUEUX, = æ Author of The Money Spider," The Riddle of the Ring," &e. 51111111111 tlllIllll i I! II ¡ ¡ n I1II i nUl II [: I II Iii ¡ IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII! Ii J rr. CHAPTER XXVIII. (Continued.) I TELLS GORDON'S SECRET. I "I think that would be injudicious at present," was the young man's reply. "Tulloch, having returned from the grave once, will again come back to taunt and torture me. When lie -reappears, then we will tell Medland of our suspicions." Maidee inquired what kind of man Tul- loch was, and her lover replied* giving a description cf hi in as near as was possible. "I wish I could tell U ue; c J OlUl what you have explained to me," said the girl reflec- tivelv. "Uncle John? Who is he?" "Only an old gentleman I call uncle, though* he is no relation," she replied. Then, on being "pressed by her lover, she, in con- tradiction of Ambrose's express wishes, re- vealed to him her long and strange friend- ship with the unknown c'.d ■gentleman who had frequented the parks in order to get sight of her, nnd Lstcn to her childish prattle. "How verv strange!" exclaimed Gordon, when he had heard her to the end. "I wonder who Le can "I don't know, nor do I care. Only he is mv closest and dearest friend. I am anxious to see him, t:> ask his omnion regarding this fellow Tulloch—to ask whether, he sus- pects that ?Tulh.ch is ?Iso responsible for that dastardivattcM)-? to kill ?e." "Where Ú,' tlás Uncle JCkl; Where docs he live V" "He has reecutlv lived in Y alworth, but at present he is away. I J act wrote to him to the Poste Rest ante at Macon. TIe turelr will return to L-ondon very EGan." Gordon did not r?ply. He was thinking Goz,(Ioli d,Id n,,t r?,i)l?y. tion which his well-beloved had just made. \.ho could be the mysterious Uncle John? Together they sat hand in hand, almost, in tli.2 great grey night, clouds rising away to the left—watching •.rntil the navigating lights of the "shipping !an to twinkle in the dark blue, and the ??'at broad warning ray from the light- house showed a. bright beam the li??lit- It.)Ils,e r, lit' v,'ed v? across the Then they rose. For a few moments lie fondly held her slim form in his arms, kiss- ing her passionately upon tho lips. Then tiiey retraced their steps down the hill into Eastbourne, both filled with grave wonder- ment. That same evening, almost it the very Rime hour when the pair rose to leave that seat high on the summit of the pro- montory, a respectably-dressed woman called Rt Scotland Yard, and to the constable at the door gave her name as Mrs. Jewell. the wife of a private detective living at Willes- and having an office in King Street, C'jvcnt Garden. She said she wished to see sn ofliccr of the Criminal Investigation De- partment. After a brief delay she was taken up in the lift and shown to one of the big bare V'a:ting-rooms at the end of the corridor, a cheerless, depressing place in which many a 6i range story had been told, and many a c: ¡nl revealed. Presently to her came two officers, one of Vrhom was Inspector Medland. "I am in great distress, sir," she said, addressing Medland, who was the older of the pair. "I have lost my husband." The detective smiled. The story of lost Lasbands is an everyday one at the Yard. Well," he said, in his sharp, busiuess-liko -way; "tell me the facts—as briefly as you can, please." "My husband and I had a few words back in January, and he left home to go to his office ss usual in the morning. He was at thj office all day. About seven o'clock, ]ust Martin, his clerk, was about to leave, a gentleman called. I've got the card which he gave." And she produced the visiting- card of Sir George Ravenscourt. This caused Medland to become at once in- tClcsted. Yes," he said, "go on." "Vvell, the gentleman had been to see my husband before, it seems," explained Mrs. Jewell, "and after Martin left, he remained bilking in my husband's private room. Some private iiiqiiirv, T sliopose, for my husband does a lot of work for the aristocracy. From that moment till this he hasn't been 6een." You say this occurred in January. Why didn't you come here before, Mrs. Jewell?" "Because when lie left the house in the morning he said he wouldn't come back. He'd said that before, and he'd always come back after a day or two, so I waited and waited, but he hasn't come. Therefore I'm now afraid that something must have hap- pened to him." "What causes you to suspect that, eh?! tLskod the Inspector. "Because only yesterday I found out that Slr Georg-e Ravenscourt had died on the very night my husband disappeared, the night of the seventeenth of January!" "The seventeenth of January!" echoed Medland, for he knew the man Jewell quite ivell. He had been a sergeant in the Cri- minal Investigation Department, and, ou retirement, had set up as a private detec- tive. "And he disappeared on the night of Sir George's death, eh? Well, what. do you c,'Lsil,cct?" lie asked. CHAPTER XXIX. I THE ACCUSATION. I After lying- in a state of coma in h:8 darkened room for over two days, Don Mario slowly struggled back to conscious- ness. Then, on opening his ey<;s at last, he saw the pale, anxious face of his friend Ambrose bent over him. He .started, glaring at Jiim In horror, as though some hideous phantom of the past had risen against him. "Weil, my dear friend," exclaimed Am- brose softly, "are you better? What? Where am I?" asked the priest, starmg around his own room. Then a I- e(-k, raying "Ah I second later lie sank back, saying: "Ah! I see! Why—I'm at home. I—dreamt I was somewhere else." Then for hours he lay motionless in silence, tended by old Teresa and the snuffy old hunchback sacristan. For days he re- gained convalesccnt, seated in his chair and receiving visits from the villagers, male and female, who came to offer their congratula- tions, and afterwards went into the church to return thanks for his recovery. The priest's story of his attack was that, In walking along at early morning, he had become suddenly seized by a. curious pain in the head, had become dazed, and fallen, More than that he did not know. For nearly three weeks lie remained indis- posed, then, of a sudden, lie grew quite well. But none knew that during the whole period he was secretly flinging away the doctor's ledlcine6 and daily iiijecting a certain anti- dote into his own arm. The truth was that he had half recovered "frhile lying in his laboratory, and had Managed to get out, shut the door, and walk nearly half a mile before sudden exhaustion overtook him and he fell where he was 101(nd. One warm night towards the end of June, ^heu the whole village was asleep, he crept *?rth again down to the cottage, and thele Retired the little bottle sealed with black Wal,-the phial containing the re-discovered Poison of the Doge Daiidolo. Then, noticing that the rabbits in their cage were dead, lie to work to destroy all his apparatus and biiry it in a hole he dug in the wood a little ?stance from the house. Afterwards he re-ascended to his presoy- try, and, just before dawn, returned again to bed. Three days later Dou Mario had left Santa Lrleia. to spend a few weeks at his imaginary horhe in the North, taking with him the Signer Inglese, wlJilc the young priest Don Lippo, from the Abruzzi, had taken up his temporary abode at the little "white presbytery m the piazza. Nearly six months went by. In the dark November days in London— 4lid the November of 1908 was exceptionally slull-two men were occupying furnished lodgings in a rather dingy, drab house in Walpole Street, off King's Road. Chelsea. One was Don Mario, the other his friend John Ambrose. A few evenings before a serious contre- temps had occurred, for Ambrose, while en- tering Sloane Square Station, had been re- cognised by Medland, who, m surprise, had accosted him. They had walked side by side for a long- distance, right from where they met to Scot- land Yard. The Inspector invited him in, and then closelv questioned him. lylien he emerged an hour later his ex- predion was unusual Perhaps the detec- tive's questions had been disconcetring; but in any case his manner had entirely changed. He seemed to have aged fully ten years, for he retraced his steps to the underground station at Westminster, bent, serious, and very thoughtful. Next day he returned to Scotland Yard— rt Medtand's request, bcitsaid-and was there interrogated by the Director of Crimi- nal Investigations himself, while his friend the priest remained at home, as he always I did during the day. Of late Don Mario had become silent and reserved, for, truth to tell, he had been seized by certain suspicions regarding his I friend Ambrose, and he was calmly plotting a terrible vengeance. One damp, foggy evening about nine o'clock, Lady Ravenscourt. and Mrs. Bores- ford being out to dinner with an old lady in Brook Street, Maidee and Gordon were to- gether in the drawing-room, happy in each other's love. The girl, in a pretty gown of palest pink chiffon, was seated at the piano, when she was interrupted by Ilia entrance of a maid bearing a card. She took it. rose from the piano, and for a second stood rigid. "There are two gentlemen, miss—one is a clergyman, I think." the girl said. "A clergyman!" exclaimed Maidee, and turning to Cordon, who had also risen and was standing beside her, added: "Uncle John has called! You will now have an opportunity of meeting him Show the gentlemen up," she added to the maid. A few seconds later old Mr. Ambrose, well-dressed and distinguished looking, entered the room. "Whv gasped Cunningham, staring at him aghast, "you, TuUoch! What does this zi,,Iiast, "y(,ii, Tttll,,)cl il V;ftat does t i ti?ll Maidee stood amazed as the two men faced each other. "Yes," replied Ambrose, "I am here to- night, Cunningham, to offer you an explana- tion. And this gentleman with me is Don Alario Mellini, who, like myself, knew vour father very well." The priest, who had followed hat in hand, 'bowed low in his graceful Italian manner, expressing his great delight at meeting the son of his old friend. "But my dear Uncle John!" cried Maidee, "what docs all this mean? Why did you pretend to Gordon to be Tulloch, an ad- venturer. You surely are not an adven- turer my child," replied the old fellow, smiling upon her as he took her little hand; "I fear that the world would, if it knew the truth, condemn me as such. IJutI and my friend here have come to reveal to you certain curious fact, and to make one or two matter quite plain. Though it is much against lily desire to disclose my real identity tc your lover, yet I do so because I feet that. t have acted wrongly—that I allowed my feelings of revenge to obtain the mastery. I regarded Ins father as one of my friends, yet., alas' he proved1 to be one of my worst enemies Hence my brutal desire first to raise his son to ft i; i c. and then slowly to crush him by blackmail and threats of exposure of a crime which I knew that he did not commit. "You refer to the mysterious death of his wife!" the girl ened "Then lie i,, liiiio- cent ?" "Certainly. I can vouch for his inno- cence, and I am here to seek his pardon— and yours, Maidee. Yi?hen I had formed my' plot of vengeance I had no idea that he I would meet you and fall in love with you. Surely it was the irony of fate that my dear niece, to whom I have ever been devoted. should love the son of my worst etzetnv-.)ne of the men responsible for my downfall." "What downfall?" inquired the girl. "Do tell us. You are always so very mysterious, Uncle John." At the same moment Gordon placed his arm about her slim, neat waist in protection as they stood together. "Listen then," said the old man in a strange, tremulous voice, after he had stood in silence for a few moments, looking into her dark eyes. "Have you ever heard of a 11:1:1- a politician of some note-called the £ arl of Ellersdale?" "The Earl of Ellersdale!" cried Gordon Cunningham. "Why he was Prime Minister end died about eighteen years or so ago lie was an intimate friend of my father." "Yes, he was," said Ambrose. Maidee, staring straight at the old man, rt that moment suddenly gave vent to a loud cry of dismay. "The Earl of Ellersdale!" she gasped. "Why—why Inspector Medland took me io .3e his statue in Westminster Abbey—and iiony-and now I recognise the likerles Are you—are you his brother? "No, Maidee," was the low reply, "I am (he Earl! The girl and her lover stood astounded. It was upon Cunningham's lips to jeer at the man's amazing statement. Next instant, however, the priest ex- claimed in his very good English "If any corroborative evidence is neces- sary. I am here to testify that my friend is actually the Earl of Ellersdale." Ever since my death, a death connived at, nay, insisted upon, by the two persons .n to whose hands grave circumstances com- pelled me to place my future, my friend Oon Mario has continued to be my friend. I lived in obscurity in Pimiieo as Richard Goodrick." "Richard Goodrick! Are you, then, the man who is said to have died eo mysteri- ously oil the night when Sir Gecrga waa assassinaetd?" cried Maidee, astounded. "Yes, my child," replied t h old gent I man, nre showing in hid dark eyes. Ld me explain." But Gordon Cunningham's attitude was still antagonistic towards the old man. He had neither forgotten nor forgiven how, as Tulloch, he had bullied and blackmailed him. "I do not see, dear, why we should be compelled to listen to all the.se explana- tions," he said, addressing his well-beloved. "Hear me!" cried the Earl. "You ruut hear. It is but right that you both should know the truth." Yes, the truth!" interrupted the deep voice of a stranger, as, at the same moment, the burly form of* Inspector Medland—whoso visit had been arranged in secret with the Earl-entered the drawing-room. "Excel- lent let us, at last, hear the truth!" The girl, her lover, and Don Mario all Biared at the intruder, who, bowing, smiled, merely explaining that he had called upon Miss Lambton as he desired to have a chat with her. "I'm considerably interested in this meet- ing," he added. "There are one or two little matters which I am very anxious to c tr up," he added, casting a meaning look to- wards the Earl. Don Mario, his face livid, stood as though transfixed. He waa staggered by the turn of events. "Weil," said the ex-Premier, drawing himself up proudly and clearing his throat, "1ft, me explain. Let me relate the strange events which led to my supposed death ard disappearance into obscurity," and then in a few brief sentences he described the house party at Ellersdale, the mysterious death of Rollo, Maidee's father, and the ter- rible accusation brought against himself. He told them how, with the clever conniv- ance of the doctors and his friends, he had died, vhilst those jwho^ had known the trnth were now also dead-all save 1..3 friend. Don Mario. Maidee listened to the old Earl's story i 1 silence. At last she said "Then my mother could, if sli, had chosen, have cleared you of the terrible charge?" "Yes, child," was his slow reply. 'Your mother, I fear, was fiercely antagonistic to- wards me because I had been strongiy against your father's marriage. Hence she had made some statement that was falFe, and I could no longer remain Prime Minis- ter unless I could prove my innocence. For that reason I went into obscurity, and am believed by the world to have died." "Ah, it was a wicked conspiracy. Who, then, killed my poor father?" "That still remains a mystery," was the Earl's slow response. "An entire mystery." The priest stood there, his sallow, clean- shaven countenance pale and drawn, his brow slightly knit, his sharp eyes fixed upon the speaker's face. "But what evidence can you show that you were not responsible for your brother's tragic end?" asked Gordon Cunningham, still doubtful, and recollecting that it was mainly due to his father that the Earl's dis- appearance from the' political world had been accomplished. "There is, unfortunately, no proof of my innocence," replied the old Earl. "Only my own word that, though Hollo had quarrelled with me, I bore him no malice." Gordon smiled, but with a somewhat dig. Eatisficd air. Whereupon Medland, who had stood with his hands in his pockets, at that moment stepped forward, saying: "I think that this, which I found when searching the contents of the safe in Sir George Ravenscourt's library at Carlton House Terrace after his death, may throw an interesting light upon the occurrence," and he produced a letter written in a femi- nine hand upon black-edged notepaper, and addressed to Sir George from a hotel in Geneva. The Earl took it with trembling fingers, read it through eagerly, and then, turning Bv/iftly and fiercely upon Don Mario, he pointed fit him with his linarer, saying: "At last the truth is told! There stands the assassin of my brother Rollo—he. the man who for. twenty years I have regarded as mv faithful friend Maidee and her lover stood aghast, dumb- founded. Yet as they looked upon the priest they caw that his mouth was half open, and that he stood motionless as a statue, unable to utter a single word in self-defence. (To be Continued.)

I AN ARTIFICIAL FLOWERI BAROMETER.

I "MY MOTHER WAS A GOOD I…

I THIEVES RANSACK FLAT.

[No title]

OTHER MEN'S MiNDS. j

[No title]

A MAGNETIC LIMPET.

BELFAST GIRLS DRUGGED.

KINGSTON MUSIC-HALL FIRE.

[No title]

EXPLOSIVE AS FERTILISER. I

ARE WE DECADENT? I

[No title]

 jf)! Helpful Hints for "Backyarders."…

[No title]

ICOUNCIL. SCHOOLBOYS' BRILLIANTI…

I TREES 6,000 YEARS OLD. I

 WF'FK' tN THF f?ARr?F'N…

MONUMENT TO AN APPLE TREE.…

COAL FLOWS LIKE WATER. I