THE DOCTOR'S PROTÉGÉE.

King Country Chronicle, Volume VI, Issue 498, 7 September 1912, Page 2

THE DOCTOR'S PROTÉGÉE.

(All Rights Reservbd.)

By ALBERT LEE,

Published By Special Arrangement.

CHAPTER IV.— (Confined).

"Last night I went, to see him, at what was for us an unusually early hour. A letter had come by the evening post, and I knew that it would require instant attention. I found him busy at his table, but he left his work, and we sat and talked. Strangely enough, Andrieno did not know our real name, and in accordance with my father's wish,. I gave him no hint that we bore an assumed one. But as we talked, I ventured to tell him something of our family history, to which he listened complacently, until I chanced by a slip of the tongue to mention our real name. "For some time he watched me intently, his face distorted with passion, and his hands clenching and unclenching. Then he spoke: "■ 'Are you one of the Sarpis of 'Bianco?' he almost screamed.-. 'Yes,' I answered with what calmness I could maintain, although my. heart beat wildly, and a dread came lest he should strike at me savagely. Had I known the consequences I might have prevaricated, but I was in ignorance, and therefore made matters worse. 'Our family name is Sarpi; but we kept the fact a secret lest my father's whereabouts should be discovered, for a vendetta was sworn against him by the Brunos of Gerace.' "'A Sarpi!' he cried again. 'Then you are no wife of mine,' he shouted, careless in his passion as to whether he should be heard by the neighbours. " 'No wife of yours?' I gasped, in terror at his look and tone. ' " 'No wife of mine, I say,' 'he cried again. 'I am one of the Bru- { nos of Gerace, but have taken the name of Telamone; I swore* a vendetta against your father, Signor Sarpi. I did not know his face, otherwise I would have killed him at sight; and since he is dead, and I cannot be avenged on him, then, by Heaven ! you must die !' "I saw the awful look upon his face. I saw that his love for me had died before the new and terrible hate that had now sprung up. I saw that anything I might hope for from the fact that I was his wife, and had run infinite risks on his own behalf, now counted for nothing; for I knew the awfulness of the Calabrian Vendetta.: "For a long time we looked at each other in silence. My flesh seemed to creep wheai I saw how he had changed towards me. In bygone days his face relaxed from its sternness whenever I spoke, and the more I talked with him the more he bade me still to speak, since it was a joy to hear my voice. Now I saw, how love can turn to hate.

1 'Suddenly lie turned his back upon me and moved across the floor to the sideboard. I did not long wait in wonder as to what he meant to do, for from the drawer he took a ■ dagger. I kn<ew that one was there, for it was kept handy in case his enemies should ever discover his hiding-place, and enter the house. Then I knew that I had to die. But oh! life is sweefe to one so young as I, and when I saw the dagger's blade flash as he turned towards me, I sprang to my feet and screamed aloud. ,Why should I trouble about secrecy when death was before me ? There flashed through my mind the thought of his danger, if by calling for help I betrayed Hum; but I knew that he would MH me. I was ready at that moment to give up everything since Andricno declared that I was no longer a wife of his, and must die. Think of it, Dr. Carson, to ? die when one is only twenty-two, and in such a terrible way! Thm I screamed. It- was my last hope ior life. I screamod again when he ■savagely bade me be silent. I made no answex, but ran to the table, and 'got it between hijm and myself. And thus we were placed when he came after me, now striking at me wildly, now bidding me in a vicious undertone to stay and take my death stiroke, since there could be no escape. "And then, you came!" She buriec 1 her face in her hands, and shudder ed and sobbed, but Mrs. Dawney, pu .tting her arms about her drew her d< awn and held her to her bosom, to assure that now she was safe.

' 'He wil] ] till me whenever he may find me { " sa id Teresina, looking round to fck e door as if she thought to see he #• husband enter with the igleaming dagger. ■ sWi not find you," I declared, reassuringly. "He does not know - #hat jou are here. Let us talk t 7 fife matter over, and surely we shall ifevise some way of escape for (you.'' f.

I ia/d thought her beautiful when Isa w J2 6r standing in the moonlight at i idis garden gate—when fancy, no ■dp' afefc, played its part—and later ln She room where she was face to & were with death; but she appeared s 1 flpr-emely so now that I saw her f JieTidlfts* a .7,4 1mhl„ a t a nv hour to

Author of "The Baronet in Corduroy," "The Key of the Holy House," King Stork of the Netherlands," " The Black Disc," &c.

aggerated form, perhaps, a thing unspeakably cruel, while I stood and gazed at her, and marked her anxiety, £nd her startled look when an unwonted sound was heard in the square outside. The vendetta took no count of beauty, ignored the most solemn vows of love, set aside the best, the sweetest, the gentlest, and the most unselfish as naught. Like jealousy, it was as cruel as the grave, and as persistent; for he who took the vow pursued his quarry with the assiduity of the sleuth hound, and would not be deterred.

CHAPTER V s THE MAN AT THE WINDOW. • 1 One thing was certain—that Teresina Telamone would never be safe so long as she lodged in my home; nor would she lie- more so if- she returned to her lodgings in the city. Happily, I had an admirable partner who would take up my share of the practice with the utmost willingness, so that I felt that I oould be spared for a time in order to devote myself to the task of frustrating Telamone's murderous enterprise. T could take him into my confidence, tell him exactly what had happened, perhaps get some suggestion, from his as to what to do under the circumstances'. At all events, I was convinced of his, willingness to set me free for a time. As fortune had it, Carter came in while we were talking, and with Teresina Telamore's permission I told him what had happened during the last twenty hours, he listening the while in the most absolute amazement."Never heard such a story in my life,' 5 he exclaimed, when I had jsut the whole matter before him, Teresina watching him intently, as if eager to discover how far he was likely to be of service; and when I raised the question as to where I oould take her, he spoke up at once. "You can't keep her here, that's certain. I'll go and ask Emily whether I can take her to our place." But there were to many risks in keeping her in Bristol, and Carter's house was in the same road as that in which Teresina had her rooms. She shook her head at once when she heard where my partner lived, and while she thanked him she said that the risk of discovery was too great. "Look here, old man," said Carter presently,' "I'll look after the practice, and, if necessary, I can call in Groome. Why not look out some quiet country spot, where no one would think of looking for Signora Telamone?" "The very thing," exclaimed Mrs. Dawney, who had so far taken little part in the discussion. -"There's the house we took last summer at Marly." We examined the pros and cons of the suggestion, and it was finally agreed that should see whether the place was at our disposal, especially since Teresina was willing to go anywhere, so long as she could find safe hiding from her husband, her now would-be assassin. I went off early in the morning to make arrangements, having taken every precaution for Teresina's safety during my absence. My groom, set free from outside duty, was kept indoors to be on the ■ watch, to mark who came and went, and to see that no one effected an entrance. It was necessary to be open with him, and he fell in with my proposals with the readiness of an old servant who considered his master's interests before everything. "If anybody tries on any nonsense here, sir, he'll know it," said the stalwart fellow, grimly, and instinctively his great fist clenched, and looked formidable enough to allow me to quit the house with the assurance that it would be a bad thing for any unwelcome intruder to make his acquaintance. The house at Marly was admirably adapted for our purposes, being at leasts seven miles away from the nearest railway station. Consequently it had the advantage of being secluded. It lay, moreover, far off the main road, with the sea on one side, and a fishing village close by, the people of which were never in touch with the great outside world, and never failed to stare to their heart's content and with grave suspicion at all unaccredited strangers. The knowledge of this had been counted as among the advantages oJf a retreat to a place like Marly. If Andrieno Bruno—or Telamone, as I prefer to call, him—came so far every man, jvoman, and child in the place would know it within a couple of hours, and instead of being able to conceal himself, to await a quiet time for observation, he would find i himself the observed of all observers If he should come with any idea of : spending a night in the village, and ventured to take a bed at the Por- i cupine, Marly would have taxed ; its ingenuity to extort the reason fdr his journey to suck-an out of the ■ way corner, and cyvo-i'the privacy of i

to come within seeing distance of Marly was our safeguard, and would be of infinite service in securing Teresina's safety. There was another point in the place's favour. Marly was Mrs. Dawney's native place, and at the first call for help the men would have dealt summarily with any stranger who gave her trouble. The chilren alone, at all events m the daytime would have been efficient scouts; for while they would stand and gape at a passing stranger they would make their way home with a wild whoop as soon as he had taken the first bend in the road, and having told the news would have returned to watch his further progress. | For such are the ways of those who dwell in the remote places of the j countryside. Even the most sedate, under such circumstances as the advent of a stranger, would have had to fight out the question as to whether curiosity should get the better of dignity, and lam inclined to think that curiosity would prevail. I was relieved to find that the Lodge was at my disposal. The lord of the manor, who was owner, and an old college friend of mine, said that I could go in when I pleased, but wondered, when he saw me looking, fit and well, why I wanted to take a holiday in the depth of winter.;

"You don't look run down at all, Carson," exclaimed Dennis. "Have you suddenly turned lazy?" "Not exactly," was my reply. "Then what in the world has brought you down to this miserable place, when there's neither shooting, nor fishing, nor anything else possible, except toasting yourself before a blazing fire, and becoming a bookworm, or something worse ?"- Then I told him.

"Come down to-day—to-morrow when you like. The sooner the better," Dennis exclaimed, when the story was ended. While he was speaking his hand was on the bell, and before long orders had been given for servants to go to the house at once, and make the place ready for immediate occupation."By Jove!", he cried, when the man had gone to give his master's message, "I'll shoot that Italian dog at sight if he crosses my path. Look here, Carson, it will be well to have one or two men in the house, so I'll send a couple across on some pretext, and they shall be fellows you can rely on. You can tell them just as much as you choose." We went over to the Lodge as soon as luncheon was ended, and already the place was beginning to look habitable. The women were taking off the covers from the furniture, sweeping carpets, dusting ornaments, airing beds before fires which blazed up the wide chimnevs furiously and gave one a promise of comfort which more than reconciled one to stay in the most dead-alive place in the countryside. "You'd better bring- some books down," said Dennis, "for I fancy we are in for some bad weather. I shouldn't wonder but what you'll find the snow coming down heavily before you get back to Bristol."

We had already had a fall of snow in the city, but there had been none at Marly so far. When the train carried me homewards I could see the snowflakes beating against the carriage windows, and every time I peered into the night I saw the country showing up whiter, and the storm grew fiercer. It was getting late when the train ran into the station. Half expectant of news, which I feared might be bad, as to what had happened in my absence, I looked up and down the platform for my groom, but he was nowhere in sight, and I took that to be a good omen. He was not to come to the station unless anything had chanced that would make his coming save time, but remain at the house on guard. His failure to meet me showed that things "were right so far.

When the cab left the station the storm had ceased; and by the time we drew up at the garden gate the heavy snow clouds had broken up, and were hurrying away in great patches, so that now and again the moon shone through with a light almost like that of day. "I wonder who has called on such a night,"- I muttered, when, after waiting where I stood ankle-deep in snow to watch the tired horses turn willingly to go at a slow trot homewards, I swung round to the garden gate. I saw by the moonlight that it >was standing open, and that the snow had been pushed back behind it. It was evident that the opening was recent, for the bottom bar of the gate had scraped back the surface snow. But my attention after that first impression was taken by seeing some footprints, and these went up the thick-ly-covered path towards the house door. {To be Continued.) D.P.—4,