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THE MYSTERY OF .. MAISMORE…

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[ALL BIGBTS RU]MV".] THE MYSTERY OF MAISMORE MANSIONS. By BURFORD DELANNOY. CHAPTER V. CALLED TOO LATZ. RECEIVING no response to his koMbig on the tirawing-room door, Percy Lisle had turned the. handle. Pushing it open, he looked into- entered the room. All the bad temper of which he had been so full in driving there vanished the moment he saw Mrs. Easton lying on the sofa. Notforamoiiient, did he suspect that he was looking on a dead body. On the contrary, he accepted the woman's posi- tion as an excuse for the breaking of her appoint- ment with him imagined she had fallen asleep. Lisle was not a man possessed of too vivid an imagination. The idea that on a quiet winter's evening a woman could be murdered in her own flat, and that he should come in to find her so would never have entered iiis head. As Geoffrey had placed it, or allowed it to shape, the body lay on its side. By reason thereof the mark on the temple and the little trickle of blood which had come from the wound were hidden from the man who now stood by the door, looking towards the sofa. There was absolutely nothing unpleasant or repellent in the woman's appearance. As Percy's ill-temper vanished the frown left his face a smile took possession of it. His brain- power was not of the most brilliant" order was sufficiently weak to admit of admiration for very small, even effeminat.e things. There flashed through his mind the meaning of the words, A Pair of Gloves." Mrs. Easton had been a very careful woman every coquettish art was known to her. She had not allowed Percy once to kiss her that would not have been according to the rules of the game she played. Necessarily, being held ofT, his hunger had in- creased. That was but a simple illustration of human nature he became more tager to obtain that which was denied him. It was knowledge • t that so common trait which had made the widow s arts so attractive. Although he had lacked courage to ask her per- mission, Percy thought this a favourable and ex- ceptional opportunity of attaining his desire. Under such circumstances, it was permissible to steal a kiss-" A Pair of Gloves." Closing the door softly—having this new idea in his head, he had no desire to disturb the sleep- ing woman—Percy walked towards the fire. With his back to it, leaning against the mantel, he continued to look at the figure on the sofa. The smile broadened on his face he looked the embodiment of good temper. Those who had been neighbours of his in the stalls a short while back would scarcely have recognised him. There was a little delay in the accomplishment of the Pair of Gloves business. It arose from the fact that the intending performer was en- deavouring to screw his courage to the sticking place. There was anxiety to steal that kiss, yet hesitation. Mrs. Easton was not nice when those eyes of hers flashed angrily. Percy had seen them blaze out and seem to emit sparks once or twice was disinclined to risk rousing the fire in them. It was just a little surprising under the circumstances that he should betray such wisdom, or ekpeiience such fear. For his brain was not in the clearest of conditions just then. as a matter of fact, that evening he had quenched his thirst more often than was good for him. Not that he could be truthfully labelled drunk, or anything approaching it. But he had certainly swallowed more brandies-and-sodas than were good for him. It had been an evening full of unusual incident for him—thirst-creating kind. Percy had been annoyed, in the first instance, that Mrs. Easton had broken her engagement to go w'th him to the Palace. Had been still further annoyed at hor not turning up, as she had faith- fully promised to, at ten o'clock. Now, he en- deavoured to tell himself, he merited some sort of leward for the treatment he had endured. There his reward lay Practically to his hand— or mouth—at his mercy. or mouth—at his mercy. Despite the helplessness of the proposed victim of his joke, and the pleasure he hoped to derive from the joke itself, yet, still, there w<as hesita- tion. Percy could not summon sufficient courage to do that which he had never done before— kiss the sleeping woman. Instinctively—smoking was part of his nature —a hand went to his pocket for a ciga rcite case. Opening that, he took therefrom and plac-ed be- tween his lips one of the cigarettes..Just as mechanically his fingers went to the ticket pocket of his coat for a vesta. The while, his eyes never left the figure -of the sleeping woman. But no sooner did he handle the match than it occurred to him that the odour of tobacco would not blend very well with kisses. Withdrawing the cigarette from his lips, he threw it into the fize. That done-with him this was realty a burning of his boats-he took all his courage in his hands, determined on doing what he was itchit-g to do. Drawing himself up, he walked across to the sofa bent over the figure thereon. In another half- Second their lips would have met. What it was he saw to make him start back he could not have defined. Whatever it was it caused him to bend down again, to look closer. This second time he started t.ack to the accom- paniment of a cry of fright—a cry which would have shrilled into a shriek, but for what seetnod tike an icy hand gripping his throat, and stifling the effort to cry out. Trembling in every limb. Percy put out a hand and touched the body in front of him; drew his hand away with a shudder. The touch had told him so much it confirmed what he had read in the face-the woman was dead A man who relies on tonics leans on a rotten reed. All the exhilaration due to the brandies- and-sodas deserted Percy left him as full of horror as it is possible to be. Another feeling seized him something worse than horror—fear. Mrs. Easton had written that she would go with him to the Palace Theatre that night. He had replied to the letter saying how pleased he would be to take her that he would call for her. The servant was not in the flat; that was plainly evident. But she would probably have heard of his intent to take her mistress out. They Were women had possibly talked, as mistresses will to maids. The fact remained that he had come I there in a cab and made no secret of his coming. Then, too, he had secured two seats at the Palace Theatre had given one of the vouchers to the dead woman. It could be easily proved that it was he himself who had booked them. The whole evening he had not seen a soul he knew his friends were not habitues of the 'alls. The box-office man and Mrs. Easton's servant were not the only witnesses who could rise up against him. There was the cabman who had brought him to the flat the one who had carried him the second time. So far from giving evidence in his favour, the second cabman's evidence would be directly against: the woman's body was yet warm. Looking at the clock on the. mantel, Percy saw that it had turned eleven o'clock. The servant was out, would probably be returning almost directly. Should she discover him there, beside the dead body of her mistress, what inference would—could—she draw ? It seemed a horrible thing that he had in con- templation—leaving the'woman lying there dead. But what else could he do ? His own safety, probably his very life—he shuddered when lie thought of that—depended on flight; that was plainly apparent. Who was guilty of the crime he never paused to inquire. He dimly remembered that Mrs. Easton had told him of some woman who was coming that night to see her. But who would be- lieve such a story if he told it ? Besides, who was the woman ? He had no clue to her identity. Having made up his mind to leave, an idea sud- \} denly occurred to him. There was a chance that the object of the murder had been robbery. If so, he could never be suspected of that. Summon- ing his courage he looked at the dead woman more closely. No not robbery. That had not been the motive. On her fingers still sparkled the diamond rings she usually wore. Round her neck was the pearl necklet from whicdepended a valuable set-with-rubies locket. A hurried look round the room nothing seemed disturbed. No. It was not the work of thieves. What hope could he legitimately foster, what credence could be expect, if he told the truth ? None. Weak of mind as he was, he realised that safety lay in flight: it was his only chance. Even that was dangerous but still, if he could manage to get away unseen, there would be a chance, tf lie, remained in the flat, common-sense told him there could be but one result. Walking back to the chair upon which he had placed his hat, and lifting it therefrom, he placed it on his head. As he did so—as was his custom, vanity being a strongly-marked trait in his character—he glanced in the mirror. At what wa" reflected there he started back with another little cry of horror. It was a reflection of such a pallid, scared, frightened-to-death looking face Instinctively he turned to the woman again, saw on her face what matched the hue of his own a ghastly colour, or rather lack of colour. So standing, wondering what he should, could do, he was recalled to a sense of his position by a sound which came from the direction of the mantel. The clock thereon was chiming a quarter. past eleven. Percy cursed himself for his stupidity in having waited there so long Knew that every moment now meant danger to him. Yet, with this know- t ledge, fearing so the appearance he would present.. lie staved a moment to rub his cheeks with the Miuckles of his hands. Did this in an effort to bring colour to his face felt that if he went into the street looking as lie appeared then, every soul he passed would be suspicious that something will, wrong. Realising the futility of efforts to colour his checks, he hurriedly buttoned his coat. Turned tT> the collar of it in an endeavour to hide as much of his face as possible. Then, with a final look at I lie body, another shudder, he opened the room door, went out. and closed it after him. The next moment he had hurriedly turned the bundle, wh'ch had not left his grasp, and tin .)wit I he door open again. It was all dark in the passage His nerves were at such tension just' then that existence, even for a moment, in dark- ness was absolutely, unbearable. Hurrying the length of the passage, and feeling for the catch, lie found it, pulled it back, and opened the outer door. Someone was standing on the mat outside, just about to press the bell- prsh—a woman He knew her in a moment— Mrs. Easton's maid The woman made that peculiar little French movement, half curtsey, half bow looked at him in astonishment, surprised that he should open the door for her. Her eyes opened yet more widely when she saw the colour of his face. But she was a well-trained servant betrayed no other sign that she had noticed anything unusual. Lower- ing her e yes, she said simply Thank you, M'sieur." The maid stepped aside, to allow Percy to pass out. Without a word he did so. Hurried down the staircase as fast as h's legs would carry him The woman's astonishment was intensified by this behaviour it was so unusual. He had always before had a cheery word and smile; or her. She deferred entering the flat; walked to the head of the stairs and looked down after the depart- ing man. When Lisle disappeared from hsr view, the woman shrugged both shoulders and eyebrows. Interpreted, it meant that the idea she had 'ornicd during his previous visits had received confirmation that lie was not a gentleman of very brilliant intellect. She entered the flat; closed the door. Having entered, Susette was surprised to notice what had escaped her attention before tl- hall light was not burning. She herself itched it on. Noticing, through the open door, flint the electrolier in the drawing-room was shedding full light, she knew her mistress to be it home. That being so, the girl deemed it advisable to \11.; to the drawing-room door and report her- self, as lie had not rung the bell, and her mistress might he unaware of her return. On the threshold of the door she paused. Seeing her mistress 'ving on the sofa, said T have return, Madame 1 Is there anythings t you that vou require So answer. Momentary hesitation oil Susette's pftrt. Then she quietly withdrew, gently closing li,, door after her. Her mistress was possessed of a little temper of her own—OTIC very easily roused. Its possession was not unknown to the maid. Snwttc was wise in her generation. Careful avoidance of any a."t likely to send up the tem- per., tunc of her mi-shess's temper was her constant thought. She imagined Mrs. Easton to have either fallen asleep or to be sulking after a fit of temper. In cither event, to disturb her was a thing of which no'well-regulated maid would be guilty. In continuing her train of thought, there flashed on Susctte recollection of tli-c colouriess face of the man who had passtd out as she entered. Putting two and two together, she speedily became con- vinced knew that. there must have been a qiifirrel. It wa.H therefore quite a natural assumption to ascribe her mistress's silence to a sulkiness re- I sulting from a row with Mr. Lisle. In ordinary eiicumstanees, or on an ordinary night, Susette would have gone straight to her room to bod. As it was, she thought twice. Folded her mantle Flowly and carefully; stretched her gloves, and after blowing into the fingers, put them a.way. Instead of undressing further, she sat on her bed still thinking. Plesently the bell might be rung. If it were, and the maid had gone to bed. she knew well that the flat would not be big enough to hold her mistress; especially if Mrs. Easton had really quarrelled, earlier in the evening, with someone else. Anyway, for the sake of Fitting up a little longer, there was no wisdom in risking tweaking the lion's taiL The maid came out of her bedroom listened in the passage for a moment: then went into the kitchen. In a drawer she had a copy of Le Journal Four Hire, which had been sent her by a friend living in Paris. Seating herself, the girl turned over the pages of the paper; read it almost from beginning to end. Engrossed in her reading, she heeded little of the flight of time. But beforctplÏte reaching the last column she was disturbed by a sound carried to her cars from without, twelve o'clock chim- ing from the clock-tower of a neighbouring church. The reminder of Time's progress prompted the putting of her reading away. It was late. Thought of retirement for the night made her think of her iiiistiess. Think, too, how curious it was that she had not rung or called for her. But as yet she had not the faintest suspicion that any- thing was wrong. At the risk of lousing bad temper—thinking that danger better than the morning trouble she would get in if she allowed her mistress to sleep on the sofa all night—Susette went to the draw- ing-room door at in; tapped on it, first gently. then loudly. Receivin s. no answer, she opened the door and entered the room. "It is past the meednight, Madame. No answer. Then—whether due to the hour or the uncanny stillness she was never able to say —for the first time there crept into the girl some- thing of a feeling of fear. She could not have defined it; only instinctively felt that something was wrong. Swiftly crossing the intervening space she stood by the sofa. The next moment her piercing screams rang out in the room. Then, even as the man had done. she fled from the horror of what was lying on the sofa. Still screaming, ran out to the stairs, out into the street. Half an hour afterwards, the flat was in the possession of the police, and a doctor was stand- ing by the sofa shaking his head. He had been called too late. (To be continued.)

IPEMBROKESHIRE EDUCATION COMMITTEE.

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