The Storyteller.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVI, Issue 2145, 21 March 1908, Page 3 (Supplement)

The Storyteller.

THE MANOR MYSTERY.

J3y FERGUS HUME Author of “The Mystery of a Hansom Cab,” “The Ja<lo Eye,” “Tho Black Patch,” “Jonah’s Luck,” “Tho Scarlet Bat,” etc. [AH Bights Beservctl.j CHAPTER XXIII.

Willy Alin ter was a healthy girl, with great control over her emotions. But the next morning she was unable to get up, ami so passed .a few hours in bed. The statements of Bezkoff were so novel to one who led so quiet a life os she did, that she could not reai'.ise how serious the position of Hallon might tie. But when he did not return the same night, she began to believe that he had' indeed met £■, with foul play in the house alluded to. Billy, not finding her at the breakfast-table, came in and discussed the situation. In the ze.il ot his friendship lie was about to start off for Axleigh in. tho car and communicate with Inspector Trusk. AY illy, however, reminded him again of Bezkoff’s warning of the danger to Hallon should the police interfere, and expressed her firm conviction that, since tho Russian had gone back to Soho, any danger which Percy might be in wou.’.d be considerably neutralised by his presence. After some argument, Billy saw the common sense of this, and they mutually agreed to trust In the Russian. Considering tho circumstances, they could do nothing else. So all that remained was to wait until Bezkoff wrote, telling what had happened, or to expect, in " tho face of what they had surmised, - the return of Percy himself. Since Willy was, therefore, in bed, with more or less shattered nerves, she was not able to go to tho Manor House, as usual, to see Dorothy. And she did not wish to go, since she had .promised Bezkoff, along with Billy, to hold her tongue, and Dorothy would he certain to ask questions di- * fficult to answer about Percy’s absence. It thus happened that Dorothy put into execution a plan which she had conceived a few days before, when Percy talked of going to the Soho house, bliss Clair was, of course, quite ignorant that Hallon had gone since he had made an excuse, and merely thought that his motor business was detaining him longer in town than he expected. She wished to.go to Kensington and sco Sir-John Nowby, and learn by persistent questioning if lie really could not remember the number and street of tho •house in which Jules was possibly inearcerated. Then, as Dorothy thought she would be able to tell Percy whew he came back that she had found the house, and that all he had- to do-wtfs -btp inform the police, -wriio would at ouce~raicH-he"place to find the missing butler. There would be no need then—iso Dorothy considered—for Hallon to risk his life in so undesirablo a neighborhood. It was in Dorothy’s mind to tell Willy of her plan, but as Miss Minter did not make her appearance, and the girl was pressed for time, she went off to Bolton Station, without troubling to explain. , By half-past ten o’clock Dorothy was in the train on her way to Fenchurchstreet, and very anxious to reach tho end of her journey, Lady Panwin had readily given her niece permission to call on Sir John, as she wished Dorothy to invite Mrs Broil and her companion, Julia Flint, to tho Manor. The fact is that Lady Panwin, being bitten by- the detective fever, wished to make a few enquiries about Richard Xewby’s past life on her own account, iind learn, if possible, if there was anything therein which would point out the motive for the assassination, as well as , Mrs Broil, who had nursed the millionaire and his brother, would, Lady P-anwin thought, bo the person most likely to supply the information, and she directed Dorothy to get her to come down to Beltan for a few days. Once Mrs Broil was at the Manor, Lady Panwin was very certain that she would be able to screw all needful information out of her. Therefore, Miss Clair went to town, as has been ’ stated. Dorothy had been somewhat sur- - prised that her grim aunt had allowed - her to go alone to London, and to the house of ono who had, on the face 1 of it, behaved so badly 33 the secretly- 1 married (Sir John. But when she -

reached Fenchurch-street. Station, she learnt that Lady Panwin was not quite so confiding as she had thought. In other words, Dorothy passed tho barrier to find Lady Panwin at her heels, and was first made aware of her presence by feeling her' aunt’s arm slipped within her own. Seeing that she had left tho old dame at tho / Manor, it was something of a shock to behold her in London, and Dorothy gasped: “Aunt! Aunt!” “Flesh and blood, my dear,” said Lady Panwin, coolly. “After you left I thought it was scarcely right for you to go alone to Camden Hill, and be in tho company of Lady Newby, as I Min . sure such a fooi would insult "" vou . I therefore dressed in five minutes and reached the station immediately before the train left. You in a carriage, I expect, and did not see me arrive. It’s lucky -that vou did not,” added Lady Panwin, arranging her mantle, grimly. “I must have been a sight, as, to tell you the truth, my dear, I ran nearly all the way to the station. Foolish work for a woman of my years.” Dorothy could not help laughing. The idea- of stately Lady Panwin, the widow of a Peer, rushing along in the hot sunshine and amid3t clouds of dust, mado her a.'most hysterical. The Id*dame laughed herself, but rebuked ? er niece by patting her on tho cheek. “You have no reverence for old cro my dear.” she said, good-humo-j*. 1 “Como along down to tho. ltfark-lane Station. We’ll reach Keniton High-street by the underrailway, which as cheap if seem to know London well,

L 11 uVnvono who is a pauper knows \ A , VC H ” said Lady Panwin, not ■ shou’d have been left a good win „ aU( I then I would be ns iginCOl'Vas most people are of things fl° rall 'pi, sense ought to know. ove s?be o resent Lord Panwin is a pU "n t and I had no proper marV Sge‘settlement, so here 1 am, a ■ to marry again, aun-

tie,” said Dorothy, when they wore on their way, underground to Kensington. Lady Panwin laughed. “I'm a pretty figure of a woman to marry again, my dear. Tall, gaunt, black as a gipsy, and with tho temper of old Nick. Who would take me to tho altar?”

“Aunt! Aunt! You uiisjudgo yourself. You are not- stout, > hieh is all the better at your ago. A oil have a fine skin and wonderful dark eyes, and good teeth, •iml when ’ on pay attention to dress- —which you do not, as you know, dear —you tiro us handsome a woman of your age as one can sec. Then your manuor—when you like —is perfect.” “And very bad when I don t like, said Lady Panwin, in high good humor. “Dorothy, you are an arrant flatterer. I used to bo handsome before keeping Francis’s house worn mo to the skin and bono you see before you. Besides, I don’t want- to marry again. Men are such fools. Sir John Newby—as he was,” said L.iiy '-’unwin, with emphasis, “is the sole sensible mail I have mot, and even lie wanted to marry a pink and. wb'to chit like you, Dorothy. Heigh, hoi the man’s married, however, so ho is neither your money nor mine. And I have talked more rubbish, ’my dear,’ ended Lady Panwin, emphatically, •‘in t.he last- ten minutes than I have

done for years.” Dorothy was truly surprised at tho gaiety of her aunt, whom she had invariably regarded, and with good reason, as a somewhat saturuino person. But- Lady Panwin, smiling and laughing, looked much younger, and became more gracious in her manner. But why she should behave so amiably during this somewhat dull journey puzzled- Dorothy. “You. are iin very good spirits, auntie,” she ventured to say, as they alighted at Kensington High-street. “May I ask why?” “You may ask,” was the somewhat tart answer; “but I am not sure that you will learn much from my answer.” “I should like to hear it-.” “"Well, then, 1 hove been thinking over the case, and I fancy I havo hit upon a solution of tho mystery.” “What is it?” asked Dorothy, much excited. “I can’t tell you now, for I can’t he sure that I am right until I question Mrs Broil.” And then Lady Pan-win shut- her mouth, and nothing would induce her to open it again. On making enquiries at the door, Sir John Newby proved to be out. When Lady Newby was asked for the footman stared ,'and said that -his master was not married. Lady Panwin, therefore, sent .the servant for Mrs Broil, and when she was safe in the drawing-room with Dorothy made a mi's tic remark.

“As I thought,” said she, with calm satisfaction. “Sir John did not bring -his wife here; therefore, as yet, has not acknowledged his marriage to the world.”

“But you expected to find Lady Newby in possession, auntie, since you hinted that she would insult me.” “Quite so, my dear. As I said, I can be certain of nothing until I havo seen Mrs Broil.” “I am sure auntie, I don’t know what you mean.” “You will know soon, if I am right in my surmise. If I am not, I’ll hold my tongue about my presentthoughts.” Dorothy gazed somewhat helplessly at the grim face, which had by this time lost its momentary youthfm’.ness. Y'et she -attempted again to question her aunt, when the footman reappeared, with a request that the ladies would- be graciously pleased to honor Mrs Broil with au interview In her own room. Miss Clair quite expected to see her fiery-tempered relative -fly into a passion at the -liberty taken by the housekeeper. But, strange to say, Lady Panwin seemed to he rather pleased than otherwise. She mystified Dorothy more than ever by the alacrity with which she followed the servant into Mrs Broil’s private sanctum.

Tills was a room of no great size, at the back of the mansion, decorated much in the same gaudy fashion-which characterised Airs Broil’s dress. The M'alls were yellow, tho carpet n-as green, and the hangings displayed -a brilliant peacock..blue. Tho furniture was upholstered in vivid scarlet, softened by many antimacassars, M-orked by the nimble -fingers of Airs Broil. Portraits of the Nowby twins also appeared on -the M'alls, with many photographs of them at various stages of their existence. Also, there were u'ax flowers, woollen, mats, dyed grasses, dozens of ornaments, cheap -and expensive, and one hugo family Biblo placed in the very centre of the round table, which wobbled in the middle of -the room. Tho udiolo apartment M’as so crowded with heterogeneous furniture, and- contained such an ill-blended mass of colors, that Dorothy involuntarily closed her eyes when- sho entered. She opened them again when Airs Broil’s shrill voice Mas heard.

“Such un honor!” said airs Broil,

throwing up her hands and looking moro like a gaily-plumed parrot than ever. “Please bo seated, your ladyship.” She drew forward a slippery horse-hair seat. “Miss Clair, will you recline on tho sofa, rue and Julia, my lady, have been making records for the poor slum people. We do it to tickle their intellects, my lady.” Then the visitors became aware that Julia Flint, looking more handsome and morose than over, was seated in a kind of alcove veiled by lace curtains, and before a small table, upon which stood a large gramaphono. It was still in motion, and during a moment of silence Lady Panwin heard the grinding of the machine. “What do you mean by making records, Mrs Broil?” she asked, curiously. Tho housekeeper begin t 0 explain, with great volubility. “This,” she said, pointing to the bell-shaped receiver o; the machine, and speaking as nigh to an infant-school, “ is-a gramuphone. Me and Julia hero place on this part a virgin disc—that is, one on which there are no marks. The;* Julia sets the machinery going, and I recite a little poem, or say a few helpful words, and even sing

■little songs. All that I say is taken down by the machine, and when me and Julia hero visit our slum, we turn on the machine again, so that it can comfort the poor people with sunshine.” Lady Panwin. nodded and laughed. “Very clover of you, I am sure,” she

remarked, good-humoredly. “But you can buy records in the shops.” “Foolish, frivolous records, your ladyship,” said- Mrs Broil, drau ing , her spare liltlo figure—“music-hall

..mgs, and crazy music, and vulgar jokes. No. I buy clean discs, and cover them myself with moral poetry. Tim machine is working, your ladyship, and a-'.I tho time you and me have been talking our words havo been taken down.” “I thought you had to speak right into the mouth of the bell,” said Dorothy. curiously. “it sounds hotter,” admitted Airs Broil — “bettor and clearer. But tho room is small, and our voices -are not very soft; therefore, everything wo anv must bo recorded on that -liumblo disc. Ah!” said Mrs Broil, improving the situation, “how like tho angel who writes in tho Book of Life. Our most careless uttoranco is noted, and 7f

Lady Panwin cut short those mornl reflections. “The machine, as you say, is taking down wlmt we are talking about. iSay one of your verses, Mrs Broil, and let ns hear it repeated.” . "Without a moment’s hesitation. Mrs Mrs Broil advanced to the brass receiver of tho gramophone, and shouted four lines: Tho world is very bright, And I am free from pain; Thou let me behave aright, Aiul never, never complain. Airs Broil’s metre and sentiments were both so weak that- Dorothy had to laugh. As she did so, sho became aware that Julia Flint was Matching her in anything but an amiable manner. The deaf girl frowned when Miss Clair laughed, since she could

see plainly the expression of her face, although she could not hear the sound of her merriment. Airs Broil took no notice, but burst out fervently again : And when I wash the floor, Aly husband earns his fee; When lie knocks at tho door, I’ll let- him into ten. “A simple song,” broke in Mrs Broil, simpering, “of my oivn composition, to instil a spirit of meekness into the minds of working women. Now M'e’ll have it all over again.” Then, while Dorothy trivet to curb her laughter under Aliss Flint’s angry stare, Airs Broil readjusted the machine and set ft going again. “Extraordinary f” said Lady Panic in. It certainly M as. Both she and Dorothy could hear plainly what Mim Broil had said to the footman when ho announced their arrival, and then heard all the conversation- that -had taken place since they had entered the room. The.words M-ere a triflo faint, but perfectly clear. AVhen, however, the machine came to tho eight lines of the verse, ’these were shouted out loudly, since Airs Broil had been speaking closo to the mouth of the receiver .And the performance ended with Airs Broil’s remark on her poetry. “Extraordinary!” said Lady Panwin again. “And now. Airs Broil, as I do not want u-liat I have to say to you taken down, perhaps you will stop the gramophone and listen.” Airs Broil -did -as she was asked. “But it is quite safe, your ladyship,” she said, nodding. “If any words uhich I don’t wish to be heard are taken down by accident, Julia always puts the disc in the -fire. AVe are so used to the sound of the machine— I am, that is, and anyone who habitually visits me, like Sir John anti” —her face fell, and she sighed—“his brother—that no never notice ivhetlier it is going or not. Still, I have had to destroy several discs.” “W-hat about the girl?” asked Lady PaiiM'in. “She hears nothing, your ladyship, being as deaf as a post. lam not'at all pleased ivith Julia,” said Airs Broil, M'it-li a severe look at the. silent Aliss Flint. “I have discovered that she nourishes n passion for Sir John, n’hicli is most indecent in one of her station.” “Do you mean to say t-liat she is in love with him?” asked Dorothy. “Yes,” said Airs Broil, in great disgust. “I found letters written to him in her bedroom, which, fortunately, she never put in his hands. I expect he would have turned her out had he read them. Yes, Julia”—and then Airs Broil, with inconceivable cruelty, rapidly informed the deaf girl, with dexterous manipulation- of her -hands, that she had been talking to the visitors about the letters.

“Shame!” cried- Julia, a vivid flush of color flooding her cheeks; and her voice, as is the case until deaf people, sounded toneless and flat. “Oh, shame 1” And the next instant sho had rushed out of the room.

“A shameless girl—a dangerous girl,” said Airs Broil, primly. "You needn’t have told- her what you said,” remarked Dorothy, hotly. “That is none of our business,” said Lady Panwin, hastily, when the saw tho housekeeper’s eyes grow as -hard as jade at the reproof. It was her desire to keep Airs Broil in a good temper. “Young people have young ideas,” said Airs Broil, pityingly. “What is it you u'isli to ask me, my (lady?”

“Have you seen Lady Newby?” asked the other woman, abruptly. Mrs Broil’s sharp eyes looked startled. “There is no Lady Newby!” “You are quite sure of Hint?” “Quite sure, my lady.” “Ah!” Lady Panwin’s tone expressed great satisfaction. “I was certain that there was a mistake. Sir John, however, acknowledges as his wife a certain Miss Amy Sanding, and—” The housekeeper turned as white as death. “Yes, yes!” she said. “Of course, I remember now. . She i» Lady Newby!” “How clever of you to remember,” said Lady Panwin, sarcastically. “By the way, Mrs Broil, I believe Itichard w.as always your favorite?” “Yes,” choked the ex-nurse, “he was.” vr Tou mean that he is!” “Aunt!” cried Dorothy. “What do you mean?” Lady Panwin took no notice, but stood over Mrs Broil like an cilephant over an insect. “Confess! You know what 1 mean, if my niece does.not!” she said, in hard tones. “Confess 1 ’ “No,” said Mrs Broil ,almost inaudibly. “I do not understand.” “You do. Sir John is dead! Bicli•afd is alive!” Mrs Broil sprang up like a tigress. “Yes,” she said, shrilly, “you have guessed the truth. The mail you think is Sir John is Richard.” “1 knew it!” said Lady Panwin, triumphantly. “1 was sure of it!” CHAPTER XXIV. Dorothy rose from the soft, with a quick little gasp, not being able to grasp the situation. Also, she coin’d not understand how her aunt had arrived at tho conclusion —vouched for

by Airs Broil—that Richard Newby uas masquerading -as his brother. “I think you are both quito mad!” gasped Aliss Clair. “Mad 1” said Lady Panwin, fiercely. “You know quito well that t-hero is no madness in our family. Air Ballon surely disabused you of that idea. I oamo up here to learn if (Sir Johntho pretended Sir John —wris really Richard in disguiso, and now I know that my supposition is correct.” “How did you guess?” asked Mrs Broil, in a frightened voice. Slio soemed to bo sorry that she had boon so frank.

“I noticed tho difference in -the pretended Sir John when ho caino dou’ii. Ho u-as not nearly so nice.” “Not ailways,” said Dorothy, quickly ; “but -at times ho M’as quite his old solf, you know.” “Yes. He tried to act like his dead brother; but when his real self came out—the self of Richard Nowby —lie was nervous and disagreeable, and quito at a loss how to act in emergencies. John—as I knew —Mas always -a strong man, whom nothing daunted. That u-as how >.e made his fortune. The tu’in-s -were the same to look at —but, oh, tho difference in their character 1”

“Yes,” said Airs Broil, in a very small voice; “but you must remember, my -lady, that Sir John,experienced a great shock. That in itself, my lady, was sufficient to make him nervous.” i

“Don’t caill him Sir John,” snapped Lady Panwin, taking her seat again on the horse-hair chair, like a queen -about to do justice. “You kp.ow tintt tho man is an imposter. Sir John lie calls himself, trading on his outward resemblance to his brother But Richard is liis name, and lie has all that scamp’s shifty, cowardly, ms gusting nature.” Airs Broil- fired up. “Don’t call him names, if you please. Richard Mas always my favorite.” “I know that, because you also are shifty and unreliable, Alartha. Broil. Don’t -ansu'er me hack,” cried Lady Panwin, imperiously. Then, having silenced the ex-nurse, she turned to her niece: “Dorothy, you believe mo now?”

“I fancy I do,” murmured the girl, recollecting the new -and unpleasing traits which- had been revealed of late in t-lie presumed Sir John’s character, “but I cannot think -how you guessed the truth, since father, who knew Sir John as- n'ell as you did, never suspected.”

“Your father is blind, child. And I must say that I M as not quito sure until that woman came to claim him as her -husband. I have knou n both the Neu-bys for years and years, as intimately as I know Martha here.”

“You M-ere always hard on me, my lady,” M-himpered Airs Broil, whose airs and graces had gone by the board; “as hard as fiir John ever ivas. Why, if he had lived, -lie intended to pension me off.” “And a very good thing too, Alartlia. You should be grateful.” “What 1” shrieked Airs Broil, a red spot appearing on each withered cheek. “Do you think it right that I, M-lio nursed- Sir John, should be sent into the country to live in a cottage on. one hundred pounds a year. What of my poor people in the slums ,and my love for a gay life, and my position in the world?” “At your years,” said Lady Panwin, surveying Airs Broil unsympathetically through lorgnette, “you ought to be seated in a. chimney corner, reading your* Bible.” “Oh, ought I?” screeched Airs Broil, touched on a ran- spot, and highly indignant. “Why, I can walk miles yet. I can read print without

glasses, which you see,’’.-she snarled, spitefully—“which you use, my lady. Years? W-liat- are years, when the heart is young?” “That is quite enough,” said Lady Panwin, cutting short Airs Broil’s angry voice. “Dorothy, as I remarked some time ago, knew both the Newbys for years. I w-as welLaw-are that Sir John was not married; and even if ■he had contracted a secret marriage—which was not his way-—I -should have known. Therefore, uTien he so readily admitted that actress to be his

M'ife, -and made no attempt to bravo it out, I guessed in a flash that- here was Richard masquerading as John. To marry -an actress, and secretly, M'ould bo exactly ndiat Richard, the sneak, would do.” “But, -auntie, Aliss Sanding called her husband John.” “"Then she is in the conspiracy along with Martha here, or else sho believes that John is her husband. Richard may have taken his brother’s name for marriage, ill the same way as he has unlawfully seized it to gain possession of the money.” Mrs Broil, who had been silent through sheer rage at this last attack on her character, now began to defend herself. “There’s no conspiracy that I know of,” she declared. “If Richard chooses to call himself John that is Ins own business. After all, the money should come to Richard, in spite of w-liat tho will says.” “No!” said Lady P-anwin, sternly. “Richard will only make ducks and drakes of tho money. John know that, and therefore cut Richard out of his will. And don’t forget, Alartha that Richard forged John’s name to several cheques. “Humph!” the old d-amo reflected. “I see now that u-ith Richard’s skill in forgery, and with his knowledge of John’s business as secretary, ho will be quite able to handle City affairs under his dead brother’s name; and then tho resemblance would deceive anyone, savo me and Alartha- hero.” “You seem to be very certain, my lady,” sneered Airs Broil, with a curious gleam in her eves; “but you can prove nothing.”

“I can, and so can you. We both can prove that the protended Sir John Newby is really Richard.” “And do you think,” cried the housekeeper, furiously, “that I will ruin tho babe I nursed on theso knees —the boy tlvat I loved the best —the man who has always been good to mo?”

“Good to you!” echoed Lady Panwin, with scorn. “Richard Newby was never good to anyone but himself. Sir John was good to you—far too good, Martha—and you repay him by allowing this soamp to stand in his shoes.”

“You can prove nothing without me,” said Mrs Broil, folding her hands on her apron, “and I’ll say nothing. You took mo unawares, my ladv, else you would never have learnt

the truth.” “Then you admit that it is tho truth?” asked Dorothy, anxiously. “To you—to my lady hero —hut to no one else will I open my mouth, if I die for it,” snapped tho housekeeper, doggedly. “Richard shall have the title and the money.” “We’ll seo about that,” cried Lady Panwin, in great wrath at her author-

ity being thus defied. “Miss Sanding will be made to prove that her husband is an impostor and I can make you speak, Martha.” “Oh, indeed, my ladyl” mocked the other woman. “And how?”

“By telling tho police, and having Richard arrested for tho murder of his brother.”

Again Mrs Broil looked curiously at her visitor, but replied with great quietness. “You will find it difficult to bring homo tho murder to him, my lady.”

“No, I do not think so. Look at tho circumstances. Richard intercepted that anonymous letter and 'kept the appointment made therein, disguised as much as possible, like his brother. Sir John followed him when you explained about the letter. And you did that Martha, because you wanted John to save Richard from this unknown rascality which the letter hinted at. John went down, and Richard killed him. Then these Anarchistic people kidnapped Richard, knowing that he had slain his brother like another Cain, and held him in bondage until ho consented to play the part of John, and gave whatever money they wanted. Tho whole thing is plain to mo.” “Oh, indeed, my lady! And how did Richard kill John?” “With a red-banded 'knife, which was in John’s library. Richard, no doubt, took that knife down with him.”

“Why should ho when he did not know that John was coming?” argued Mrs Broil, very cleverly. Lady Panwin whiffed aside the objection very calmly. “I believe that Richard took the knife to kill the person who wrote the letter, and thus silence him altogether, lest lie should again communicate with John. Also, it might have been in his mind to lay the blame of the murder on John, because of the knife which was in John’s possession; then John appeared unexpectedly and Richard killed him.” “And the motive, my lady?” sneered Mrs Broil, with twilking eyes. “Richard will explain that in the dock,” said lady Panwin, rising. “It may have been on account of the forged cheques, or it might have struck Richard that he could masquerade as his brother and handle the money: I can’t say. But I am sure, on the grounds I have stated, that Richard is the criminal, and that the Anarchists have made capital out of their knowledge of the crime. What do you think, Dorothy?”

“What you say, auntie, seems very possible, but, after all, it is merely a theory,” said the girl with due caution.

“Theory or not,” said the old dame quietly, “Richard will have to explain how he comes to be masquerading as his brother.”

“He will deny everything.” “Not in the face of Iris identification by me, by Martha here, by Mrs Newby, or Miss Sanding, if you choose to call her so.”

“I shan’t say a word!” said the housekeeper, resolutely. “Yes, you will. And what is more, Martha, you and Julia Flint will come down this very day to the Manor. There you shall stop under my own eyes until this mystery is cleared up.”

“I shall not. John will be annoyed if I go away.” “Call the man Richard, I tell you; and it matters very little if lie is annoyed. His shrift will be a short one. If you don’t get ready and come down with me this very moment, Martha, I’ll go straight to Scotland Yard on my own responsibility. And remember, Martha,” added Lady Panwin, with emphasis, “since you have receiv. ed a confession from Richard that he killed his brother you will be placed in the dock along with him, if arrested, as an accomplice before the fact.”

Mrs Broil turned white and looked afraid. She had not reckoned on this. “You are very hard on Richard, my lady,” she moaned. “Because I want to avenge John’s death. Remember, Martha, that John would have married me at one time, and—” “Auntie!”

“Yes, Dorothy, it is true, strange as it may seem to you. I laughed at Sir John, and, perhaps spoken too sharply of his common ways. All the same, he was a man I respected, although I could never bring myself to be his wife. "When he failed with me he turned to you, so now you know the wholo truth, my dear. Well, Martha.

“I’ll come, my lady,” said Mm Broil, putting a corner of her black silk apron to her eye, “if you will promise to leave Richard alone for one week.”

“So that he may escape, I suppose,” said lady Panwin, coolly; “but lie won’t, you may be certain of that. The Anarchistics have got hold of him, and if he surrenders the identity of Sir John, and thus loses the money, they will kill him. If he dosen’t remain to be hanged he will be shot, or stabbed, or blown up.”

“But you’ll say nothing to the police for one week, my lady?” urged the housekeeper desperately. “No I won’t. You have my promise.

Mrs Broil made for the door with great alacrity. “Then I’ll pack up and go. Julia will help mo, and pack up also.” “Mind,” said lady Panwin, warningly, “You must leave a note behind for Richard saying that you have gone with mo to the Manor for a rest. Ho may suspect that I have found this out if you don’t lull his suspicions.” “I’ll do that, my lady—but ho will bo very augrv at my deserting him in his hour of need.”

“Nonsense, you area privileged person, Martha, and when lie comes down lie will except auy explanation you like to give.” “When ho comes down?” Mrs Broil wheeled rapidly ,and looked scared. “Yes, I want Richard to come down in his character of John. You will lure him to the Manor, as he will bo afraid lost you will give him away. I want you and Richard under my own eye, Martha. Go away and pack, or I may change my mind about holding my tongue.”

“Yes, my lady, yes.” And Mrs Broil, quite subdued, tottered like a leaf. She was a bully in her own way, and led the miserable Julia and the servants the life of a dog. But Lady Panwin was too strong for her, and the housekeeper shrewdly suspected that it was now her turn to be bullied and crushed.

When tile door closed upon the conquered woman, Dorothy looked at her aunt in admiration. “How clover you are,” she said. “When we return tonight I shall ask Percy lip, and we can discuss how we can find the Soho house.”

“What’s that?” demanded Ladv Panwin, sharply. Dorothy explained at length. “And 1 don’t want Percy to go into that neighbourhood, in ease lie should disappear like Jules.”

“I quite agree with you, my dear. But when Richard comes down it may not be necessary to trace the house. He will have to explain everything

and give the number of the house.” “He doesn’t know it.”’ . “Yes, ho does,” said Lady Panwin, serenely. “His escape in a hurry is „r mero fiction. These know who ho is, and arranged tho whole business of 'kidnapping. However, wo shall learn tho truth soon. Dorothy hoped fervontly that tho truth would come to light, and wont back to Beltan with her aunt and Mrs Broil and Julia very well satisfied with her excursion to London. Then came a blow from an unexpected puarter. Percy had disappeared as Jules had done. She learnt this from Billy Mintcr, and quite by a-ccideaSrf-<To ho Continued.)