A Wonderful Woman.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 478, 7 June 1890, Page 6

A Wonderful Woman.

Bt MAY AGNES FLEMING, Author of “Guy Earlescoart’e Wife,” “A ,1. Terrible Secret,” “ Lost for a Woman,” •'A Mad Marriage,” etoCIIAPTER XXIV. A CHATTER OF WONDERS. As ho crossed tho threshold of the drawingroom he encountered Soamos, tho tall foot* man. ‘My lord’s compliments, Captain O’Donnell,’ Mr Soaiues said, bowing. ‘ His lordship’s in tho library, captain, and requests you to wait upon him there.’ O’Donnell nodded and walked forward to the library his dark sombre face betraying no more what had just passed than a handsome mask of bronze. ‘Come in, j’Donnel!,’ the earl said, in answer to his tap, and the chasseur entered the library, closed tho door, and threw himself into a seat. His lordship was alone—the lamps burned brightly, but even in their brilliance shadows lurked in the corners of the long, stately room. The curtains jvere drawn over the open windows, shutting out the dark, sultry summer night. On a table at the earl’s elbow, wineglasses and cigars stood. ‘I suppose you’re nearly out of patience by this time,’ his lordship began, ‘ but Davis’ report was unusually lengthy and interesting this evening; Davis’ inclination for port wino was even more marked than usual. The lower orders, as a rule, if you obsorve, have a weakness for port wine, the thicker and sweeter the better. Davis is a clever fellow, and a skilled detective, but no excepfion to this rule. O Donnell,’ he leaned forward and asked tho question with most startling abruptness, ‘what do you know of Miss Herncastlo ?’ Bub tho sau</ froid of O Donnell was equal to his own—if he thought to throw him his guard and read tho truth in his confusion, ho was mistaken. Captain O’Donnell, lying at full length back in his chair, pulling his long trooper moustaoho, looked across at him ; tho conscious calm of innocence in his surprised blue eyes. ‘What do I know of Miss Herncastle? Well, not a great deal, perhaps, but enough to convince me she is a very fine woman, a remarkably fine woman, indeed, both mentally and physically. A little too clever, perhaps, as Lady Dangerfield seems to have found out to her cost.’ ‘ You won’t tell me, then. Very well, Davis and I must find out for ourselves. Only it would simplify matters if you would and I don’t see why you should leagud yourself under Miss Herncasble’s black Sag.’ ‘ Will your lordship think me very stu^H if I say I really don’t understand ?’ ‘ I would if I thought so, bub I don® O’Donnell, it’s of no use your fencing h with your buttons on. You know Miss Herncastle than you choose to believe you met her before you met her here—in Algiers or America. A man doesn’t take night rambles, as a rule, with a lady who is a perfect stranger to him. Oh, don’t wear that unconscious 100k —it doesn’t deceive me. I tell you I saw you escorting Miss Herncastle across the.fields to this house between one and two in the morning.’ ‘The deuce you did! And how came Lord ituysland to be, like sister Anne, on the watch tower between one and two in tho morning ?’ * I was in my room. Have I told you before, I can never sleep well on bright moonlight nights. I was sitting ab_ my open bedroom window. I saw you, sir. I even heard you. I heard you both.’ ‘You did? May I ask ’ ' I heard her ask you as you stopped if it were to be war to the knife between you, or words to that affect. You answered it should be as Miss Herncasule pleased. You loft her as she stood, and she watched you out of sight almost—by gad ! as if you had been her lover. And yet I hardly think you ever were that. ’ ‘ Hardly. I played the lover once in my life, and received a lesson I am not likely to forget. Who should know that better than your lordship ?’ His lordship winced. O’Donnell calmly took up a cigar and lib it. ‘I suppose I may smoke while I listen. Nothing clears a man’s intellect after dinner like a prime manilla. Will your lordship go on ?—you look as though you may have seen something more.’ ‘I have. I saw Miss Herncastlo steal from her room the following night, waylay Sir Peter and play ghost. Come, O’Donnell, I am possessed of a burning curiosity concerning Miss Herncastle—make a clean breast of it, and toll me what you know.’ ‘I can tell you all about the moonlight night you speak of, if that is what you mean. I remained later than usual at Scarswood, and going home I saw Miss Herncastle taking a moonlight ramble, and presuming on my previous introduction, took the liberty of joining her. The moonlight may have affected her nerves as well .13 your lordship’s ; midnight constitutionals may agree with her, or she may have been paying a visit—this at least is certain, our meeting was purely accidental, and never occurred before nor since.’ * And the mysterious words I heard under my window ? Keep your secret and hers, if you will, but I warn you fairly I will find out for myself. Would you like to hear what I have discovered already ?’ O'Donnell nodded in smoky silence—more interested than he cared to show. Had his lordship discovered the truth ? ‘Well,’ Lord Kuysland said, ‘from the night I saw her with you, and the night I saw her play ghost, my mind was made up. I had distrusted her from the very first—now I knew she was a dangerous woman. I wrote a letter on the quiet to a friend in London ; my friend in London, still on tho quiet, paid a visit to Scotland Yard, and sent down Davis, a dingy little man in rusty black, with weak eyes and a meek air, like a parson run ■- to seed. He arrived on the very day of the grand denouement—the day upon which Miss Herncastle was expelled from Scarsvvood. She had no friends or acquaintances in Castleford ; she had announced her intention of returning to London. Davis and myself were on the platform when she appeared— a signal from me told him she was our game. From that momenc she was safe; my share in the business was over. She took a second-class ticket for London—so did Davis. It was a parliamentary, with no end of stoppages. What do you think Miss Herncastle did ? Instead of going to , London she got out at Treverton Station, nine miles distant, and deliberately walked back in this direction as far as the town of Lewes. It was quite dark when she reached Lewes, Davis still unseen on her track. She went to a remote little inn in tho suburbs of the town called “The Prince’s Feathers,” and remained there all night. She gave no name, and wore a tfnek green veil over her face. Davis stopped at “The Prince’s Feathers” all night also. She remained in her room the whole of the ensuing day—it was nine o’clock before she ventured forth; and when she,did venture out, etill veiled, 1

where do you think she went to ? Have you ever heard of Bracken Hollow ?’

Again O’Donnell nodded. ‘ Bracken Hollow is over three miles from this, and four from Lewes, a tolerable walk, os poor Davis found to his cost. It was a nasty drizzly night, the roads muddy, the darkness intense, but Miss Herncastle went over tho way as though she knew every inch of it. Davis dogged her-eaw her within tho gate of Bracken Hollow, saw her knock at the door, saw her admitted by an old woman, and saw no more of her that night. ‘He waited until daylight, under the trees, in tho drizzling rain ; but no Miss Herncastle appeared. lie could stand it no longer ; the fear of rheumatism was stronger even than his professional patience. He returned to Castleford, ate his breakfast, changed his clothes, came to mo and told me his story. When I tell you that Bracken Hollow is the residence of tho late Miss Katberino Dangerfield’s nurse—when you recall the striking resemblance Miss Herncastle b?ars to the late Mies Dangerfield—the coincidence, you will own, is at least striking. The question, in this state of things, naturally presents itself to an inquiring mind—Did Miss Katherine Dangerfield really die at all ?’ ‘Go on,’ Captain O’Donnell said, with an immovable face. ‘ It is a question that has occurred to me many times. The resemblance —noticed by all who ever saw the late Sir John's adopted daughter—the coincidence of age—if Katherine Dangerfield had not died she would be precisely Miss Herncastle’s ago now—and, lastly, this familiarity with Bracken Hollow and Katherine Dangerfield’s nurse. The grave is there to be sure ; and yet— However, never mind that at present. Davis had a double duty to perform—to keep one eye on Sir Peter while the other was on the ox-governess. We had run the ex-governoss bo earth ; wo might leave her safely at Bracken Hollow for the present, and watch the baronot’s movements. It will be a horrible thing for Ginevra, this separation. A woman in this case becomes totally extinct for life. I want to arrange inahtnEP amicably for this time, and I fancy for town. I had the sullen, and doggedly offlJßHßrcyond all description.’ ‘ “rve uo objection to seeing your lordship for once in a way,” said this amiable nephew-in-law of mine; “ but if you’ve come to talk of your niece, or plead for her, 1 warn you it’s of no use.” • I ventured a mild remonstrance—“ the natural levity of poor Ginevra’s character —her vanity her love of balls in general—the deception of that infamous governess,” etc., etc. It was all'eloquence wasted. thirty-five should have outlevity,” returns my vanity and love fool of her once too ■■HmPio go, and she went: ■HKsfJhe penalty, and she defied care a fig whether it was Miss or Major Frankland—she was Fran ktand, and that’s never see her again—l’m blessed if I will ! I’ll have a separation— I’m blessed if I won’t! ” Only the word the noblo baronet used was not “ blessed.” Upon that I left him and set Davis on the watch. ‘He spent the day alone ; whon night came he went to Dubourg’s gambling house. Davis entered, too, keeping well in the distance, his eye on Sir Peter. He staked and lost, staked and lost again and again. He played for an hour, losing steadily. In a state of Bavage rage he was rising bo go, when a waiter brought him a card with a line or two pencilled on the reverse side. He looked astonished, Davis says, read it again, dropped it, and went forward to meet a stranger who entered. I’ll show you that card presently. Davis picked it up unnoticed, and I think it will surprise even you. ‘ The new-comer was of medium height, very slender, ver3 r dark, with hair and moustache of that jetty black you never see in an Englishman. He was a stranger to Davis, and yet something struck him as familiar. Sir Peter put up his double eyeglass and stared in a helpless sort of way. • What the devil drove you back to Castleford ?’ 110 heard Sir Peter say to him, * I thought you were dead and buried centuries ago. And you’ve changed, haven’t you ? They used to call you good-looking ; I’ll be hanged if I can see it now.’ The stranger laughed good-naturedly. ‘ “ Yes, I dare say I have changed,” he said, “and not for the better. Six yeai-s’ knocking about among the sweepings of Europe, and living by one’s wits, is nob a life conducive to beauty. I’m going back to America, and it struck mo I should like to run down hero once more and bake a look at the old place. You look as though you wondered at that; well, perhaps it is to bo wondered at. The truth is, ho took Sir Peter by the button and lowered his tone, “ I heard something of this—this ghost story, you know, and I had to come. Besides I want to find out Mrs Vavasor. I say, Sir Peter, can’t we have a private room, and talk tho matter over? I have a pocket full of Napoleons here, and we can indulge in a little game of ecarte at the same time.’

The baronet was touched in his vital spot dearth. They got the private room and had their little game. They played until long after midnight ; when they came out, the baronet was in the wild state of elation he is always in when he wins. “I thoughb luck would turn,” he said to Dubourg, when he came out. “I've won sixty Naps of this gentleman, and mean to win as many more to-morrow night. Don’t forget, Dantree; I’ll give you your revenge tomorrow evening at the Scarswood Arms.’ • Dantree !’ O’Donnell exclaimed.

‘ I see you remember the name—Katherine Dangerfield’s rascally lover. Here’s the card Davis picked up in the gambling house.’

O’Donnell was fully aroused now. Ho flung his cigar away and took the card. On one side was engraved the name “Gaston Dantree,” on the other was written in pencil: ‘My Dear Sir Peter— l must see you for a moment. I have heard this story of your seeing tho ghost of K.D. Perhaps I can throw some light on the subject.—G.D.’ ‘ This is extraordinary,’ the chasseur said ; ‘ pray go on, my lord.’ ‘Ah, your interest is aroused, at last. Wait until you have heard all. Tho two men parted in Castleford, High-street, and Davis followed the wrong man, Sir Peter. His professional instincts told him the other was his game, but his orders were Sir Peter. The baronet remained within doors all next day—and Davis strolled quietly over to Bracken Hollow, and hung about the trees, keeping the windows well in sight. He made two discoveries—first that Miss Herncastle was still there, second that she and the old woman have a prisoner of some bind in hiding.’ • A prisoner !’ O’Donnell repeated, thinking of what he had heard at that gruesome house.

* A prisoner—an idiot. Davis is certain. It—he or she he couldn’t tell which, came to the window twice, jibbering and moaning, and uttering strange, unearthly sounds. Once the hard-featured old woman pulled him away, exclaiming, “Drat the

fool! a body can’t turn their back but you’re at tho window.” The second time Miss Herncastle drew Kim back - speaking very gontly and kindly. He saw her quito plainly, tho window was up and sho shut it down. As dusk drew on he returned to Castleford and his watch on tho baronet. Sir Peter was out—had gone for a walk—to the cemetery of all places : and Davis slipped into his room. If he could only stow himself away and see and hear what went on ! There was an old - fashioned clothes - press at one end, with a small window, hung from within with a muslin blind. He ran the risk and book his post in there. At ten precisely Sir Peter entered and Danbree with him. The bnronet sat with his back to the clothes-press, Dantree in plain view. Again _ Davis was struck with the familiarity of the face, bub whore had he seen it? He looked and listened, and tho game went on. It was ecarte, and, before the first quarter of an hour was over, he saw that the baronet did not stand the ghost of a chance against his adversary. Dantree was far and away the better player of the two. And he sat down to win—his losses last night had been but the usual ruse. They played, and from the flreb game luck went steadily against the baronet. He ordered wine and brandy, he drank recklessly—his eagerness and fury were something horrible. Dantree won and won—his dark face like stone,his eyes devilish in their malice and triumph. Morning was breaking when he arose, and lie held in his hand Sir Peter's cheque for eight thousand pounds. They had played for high stakes, and luck had gone dead against the baronet.

* “ I’ll win it back—by Heaven, I will !” Sir Peter cried, livid and trembling with fury. “ Remember, Dantree, you’re to return to-night; I’ll have it back or lose more.” ‘Dantree bowed and smiled suavely. * “ I shall be only too happy co give you your revenge, Sir Peter. I shall return without fail to-night.” “ Sir Peter accompanied him to the door. Davis seized the opportunity to slip from his hiding-place, half-stifled from want of air, and half-dead from want of sleep. Bub before sleep or rest was the necessity of finding out something more about this fortunate Dantree. He resolved to follow him home, and ho did it. In the grey of the summer morning he dogged Dantree to his abode, lb was—here is another astonisher for you —Bracken Hollow.’

Tho chasseur could only sit and stare. ‘Bracken Hollow?’ he murmured, helplessly. ‘ Bracken Hollow. And as he watched him enter, the whole truth burst upon him—the familiarity of his face, his walk —were explained. Gaston Dantree and Helen Herncastle were one and the same.’

O’Donnell fairly rose from his chair in the intensity of his surprise. ‘lmpossible!’ he exclaimed. 'My lord, what is it you are saying ? Oh, this i 3 too much !’ *lb is the truth—l am convinced of it. That woman is capable of anything—anything under Heaven. She personated Frankland at the ball, she personates Gaston Dantree now. Gaston Dantree in propria persona it couldn’t be— that I know.’ ‘You know-how?’

‘ When I got that card, and heard Davis’ description of him, I went to Dr. Graves, of Castleford. He knew him, you remember ; and asked him for information. The description he gave me of Dantree in no way agreed with Davis’ description, except in the colour of the hair and moustache. I asked Graves if Dantree ever recovered from his fall downstairs. The doctor shook his head. I have asked Otis, and he says yes, bub I don’t believe it. He couldn’t recover. Alive he may be— but if alive he is an idiot. It was impossible, from the nature of the injury he received, that health and reason could both return.’

O’Donnell sat mute, bis head in a whirl. ‘ Davis came to me, made his report, returned to the Silver Rose and slept all day. Sir Peter kept his bed all day—l visited the Scarswood Arms and found that out. Then I took a stroll in the direction of Bracken Hollow. It is the loneliest of all lonely places—no one ever goes there. Tho thick growth of trees renders it a capital spot for a spy. Safely out of sight myself, I watched that upper window. I had my reward tho jibbering, idiotic face appeared, laughing, mouthing, and talking to itself. Iliad brought with me a powerful pocket teloscope, and took a long look before anyone came. O’Donnell, here is the crowning discovery of the whole—l believe that idiot hidden at Bracken Hollow to be Gaston Dantree !’ ‘ Gracious Heaven !’ ‘Graves had described the face, remember, and I had a good look. The description tallied. It was a handsome face—or had been when the light of reason was there; black eyes, black hair - regular features, and shaven smooth. The idea would not have struck me had Graves mentioned that Dantree, if alive, must be an idiot. The question is, what brings him there ?’

‘ A question, I cannot answer. lam utterly dazed and stunned. I never heard such an extraordinary chain of occurrences in all my life. To think that Miss Herncastle should personate Gaston Dantree. My lord, it seems it must be simply preposterous. Why, Sir Peter knew Dantree —would see the imposture at or.ee.’

* Sir Peter would see nothing of the kind —Sir Peter is as blind as a bat, can’t see two inches beyond his own nose. He takes Gaston Dantree for granted. Davis is right, you’ll find. Was there ever such another woman in the world ?’

‘ Never, I hope. And it is really your impression that Gaston Dantree, an idiot, is imprisoned at Bracken Hollow ?’ ‘lt is really my impression, and I can only account for it in this way : Katherine Dangerfield left him in charge of this Mr Otis—from what I infer Otis was in love with Katherine Dangerfield, and her wishes were sacred. He restored Dantree to health, but not to reason, and placed him with the girl’s nurse in this desolate house. That is my theory, and it will hold good in the ond, you’ll find.’ ‘lf you saw a portrait of this Gaston Dantree,’ O’Donnell said, thoughtfully, * you could tell, I suppose, whether or no it was the same face you saw at Bracken Hollow ?’

‘ I am certain I could. But is it probable we can procure such a portrait?’ * It is possible, I think. Pray go on and let me hear all. Did Gaston Dantree or Helen Herncastle return to tho Scarswood Arms last night ?’ ‘ That night was last night, and the soidisant Dantree returned. Just before nightfall Davis resumed his post under the fir-trees to watch and wait. He was close to the house and kept his eye on the windows. He saw nothing, but he heard as unearthly and blood-curdling a cry as ever came from maniac lips. If the house were not so bitterly isolated and reputed to be haunted (from those very cries), the keeping of this imbecile there, unknown, could never have gone' on so long. It was a hazy, muggy sort of day, sultry and sunless, and at half-past eight was quite dark. There was neither moon nor stars. Taking advantage of the

the stone porch and examined tho fastenings of the door. Ho found them, as he suspected, old and frail—in ten minutes at any time he could effect an entrance. No doubt the windows were tho same, but before he could test the windows he heard bolts withdrawn and voices from within. He had just time to dart behind tho porch when Miss Herncastle made her appearance Miss Herncastlo, en yarcon, and a very flashing young fellow she makes, Davis tells me, black moustache, black evening suit, slouched wide-awake hat, and a wig of curly black hair. Davis has the eye of a hawk—he knew her instanter. A tall, hard-featured old woman followed ; old Hannah, no doubt, onc6 Katherine Dangerficld’s nurse. ‘ “ It’3 a daring game—a dangerous game, my child,’ he heard the old woman say in anxious tone. ‘■You’ll play it once too often I greatly fear. Lot Sir Peter once suspect, and you’re caught like a mouse in a trap. He has the cunniug of Satan. I know that of old.”

* “ Wo both know it, don’t we, Hannah ?’ he heard Miss Herncastle say—(there’s no mistaking his description of her soft, shy, sweet tones ; the one thing it appears she cannot change), “and bo our cost. Let us see if my cunning cannot overmatch his now. It is a long lane that has no turning. I think the turning for the most noble baronet of Scarswood lias come, and ho shall find it out shortly at his cost. Do you know that vow I vowed that last night long ago whon he insulted me? ‘Living,’ I said, ‘I will pursue you to the ends of the earth— dead, 1 will come from tho grave to torment you.’ Hannah, I have kept that vow. I have come from the grave—from tho very jaws of death ;to torment him. I have separated him from his wife —I have frightened him with ghost-seeing until his own shadow on the wall makes him tremble and turn pale, and last, bub not least —I take his money. Six thousand in one night is a very respectable haul. Hannah—let us see ifwecannob make it six more to-night. He doesn’t know what a severe apprenticeship I have passed to all grades of skill for his benefit. He is paying me back the three thousand he once refused, with interest, is he not ? Good night, Hannah, don’t fear for me. After to-night Sir Peter shall have breathing space. Try and keep our poor patient quiet ; this seems one of the noisy nights. And don’t sit up for me-there’s a good soul. I won’t bo home until daylight. ‘ A very remarkable and mysterious speech, is it not, O’Donnell ? It struck Davis in that light, and he recollected every word of it, bub then Davis has an uncommonly tenacious memory. What do you suppose she could have meant now by coming from the grave, and vowing vows, and all that melodrama? Did Katherine Dangerfield not die after all ? Was that death and burial only sham; and is Miss Herncastle Katherine Dangerfield alive in flesh ?’

His lordship looked keenly across the table at his companion. Still the chasseur sat like the marble Agamemnon behind him, his face locked in a stony calm. ‘Go on,’ was the grim response. Davis followed, as in duty bound, and saw the peraonator of Mr Dantree safe within the baronet’s apartments. _ He hovered about the passage—airing his eye and ear at tho keyhole when opportunity presented. They played the live-long night —tho baronet more desperately, more recklessly than ever, more like a madman, indeed, then a sane gamblor. He drank brandy at a perfectly furious rate —he doubled and redoubled the stakes, and still he lost—lost. He seemed to go mad at last; an immense heap of gold and bank notes changed hands. Davis calculates that he must have lost enormously—thousands. He sprang up at last as day was dawning, with a perfect shriek of rage and frenzy, accused Dantree of foul play,, of being in league with the devil to rob him. Dantree laughed in his face, and swept the gold and notes into his pockets,filling them all.

* “ I’ll take your cheque tor the remainder, Sir Deter Dangerfield,” he said, coolly ; “ eighteen hundred pounds exactly.” * Tho words seemed to goad the little baronet to madness ; he sprang upon Dantreo and seized him by the throat (I say Dantree, you understand, for convenience). Tho next instant there was a sharp click, and through the keyhole Davis saw the cold muzzle of a pistol held within an inch of tho baronet s head.

‘ “ You coward—you bully—you fool !” 110 beard Dantree say between his clenched teeth. •* Stand off, or, by the Lord that made me, I’ll shoot you. Write out the cheque, or—” ‘He did not need to say more. The baronet turned of a greenish white, and fell , back with a yelp of terror. He wrote the cheque, his hand shaking so that he could hardly hold the pen, and passed it with a white face of abject four to the other. Dantree pocketed it and the pistol. * “ I shallcash these chequesat Castletord Bank to-daj,” were his parting words, “ and I shall carry my pistol. Don’t let me see you anywhere in the visible horizon. Shall weery quits this morning, or shall Ireturn to-night and give you a second re-vengel" He laughed insolently in Sir Peter’s face. “ Ah, 1 see. You’ve had enough. Well, good morning to you, Sir Peter. My advice is like Lady Macbeth’s : * To bed ! to bed !’ You really haven’t the nerve, you know, for this sort of thing. As I’ve heard them say out in Now York : ‘ You can’t gamble worth a cent.’ Once more, most noble Lord of Scarswood, adieu !” ‘ Davis followed Mr Dantree back, and saw him safely housed at Bracken Hollow. Then he returned—to report to me and take his necessary sleep. Off and on I have been on the watch myself to-day, but have discovered nothing. I also called upon Sir Peter this afternoon, and found him in bed —his complexion yellower than I over saw it, his wizen face more wizen - a picture of abject misery and despair. He was only too glad to pour his piteous tale into any sympathetic ear. Ho had lost in two nights thirteen thousand pounds. Enormous stakes, surely. I gob the story of the pistol, of Dnntree’s threatening language, of his conviction of foul play. Personal fear of that pistol alone prevents his giving the case into the hands of the police, and having Dantree arrested for carrying deadly weapons and threatening his life. Of his. wife or the separation he declined to speak —that is a minor matter compared to the loss of his money. Now, my idea is, to find Miss Herncastle, prove my knowledge of her infamous conduct—threaten her with tho law, and make her refund all, or part, of her ill-gotten gain. Then I shall mako its restoration and her exposure the price of Sir Peter’s peace with his wife. I see no other way at present to patch up matters between him and Ginevra.’ ‘And that will fail,’ O’Donnell said, decisively. ‘ You mistake both Miss Herncastle and Sir Peter if you fancy you can intimidate the one, or trust the other. Sho will laugh in your face as she didin his, and defy you, and he will promise whatever you desire, and break the promise, the instant the money is restored. That way is hopeless, believe mo.’

* Then what is to bo done ? Let tliis nefarious plot go on—let her escape with her spoils—let this idiot remain shut up there —terrifying all who hear him ? o’Donnell, you know more of this extraordinary

tfloom, my detective actually entered woman than you choose bo tell; in the face of all this, can you still be silent ? It is the duty of every man to hunt such a woman as that down.'

* And yet to hunt any woman down seems hardly a creditable or manly thing. And Sir Peter Dangerfield and Gaston Dantree may have rightly earned all that has befallen them. I believe all you have told me of Miss Herncastle, and yet without being particularly maudlin or soft-hearted, I don’t feel disposed to sib in judgment upon her. Wait, my lord, give me time to think. One’s head whirls after all this.’

‘What is that you said about the bonafide Dantree’a picture? I would like to see it if you can procure it. Who has it ?’ * I don’t know that anyone has it, bub I fancy my sister may.’ ‘ Your sister !’

* Yes—-Rose. Your lordship will recollect she’s from Now Orleans, and I am aware she knows this Dantree. She did nob speak of it it was not necessary ; and his acquaintance, as ho turned out here, was hardly a,thing to boast of. It still wants a few minutes of eleven,’ he pulled out his watch. 1 She may nob have retired. I’ll run up to her room, if you like, and ascertain.’

Lord Ruysland signified his wish, and the chasseur ran, three steps aba time, up the broad, low stairs. He tapped at his sister’s door.

*ltis I, Rose,’ he said. ‘if you are up, let me in.’

The door opened immediately—Rose, in a white dressing gown, brushing out her long, dark hair, stood before him. ‘ What is it ?’ she asked.

‘ I forgot to ask you, %vhen I promised to hunt up this fellow Dantree, if you had any portrait of him. Of course it is necessary to know what he is like, and no description is equal to a likeness. Have you one ?’ She bent her head and moved away to her writing-case. Out of one of the drawers she procured a card picture wrapped in silver paper. She placed it in her brother’s hand. ‘ It is—it was a most excellent likeness. Anyone who ever saw him once would recognise it. Redmond, have you heard—is there any nows of— ’ Her voice died away.

‘ I will tell you in a day or two. I have reason to think he is nob dead. As yet of course I know nothing positively. In any case you are safe from him, Rose.’ He was looking at the picture as he spoke. A photograph softly tinted—finely executed. In all its brilliant beaute de diable the fatal face that bad wrecked the lives of Marie Do Laneac and Katherine Dangerfield looked up at him from the card—the pictured eyes alight the square • cut perfect mouth halfsmiling— faultless almost as the face of the Apollo. As he looked, O’Donnell for the first time could undeistand and almost forgive his sister’s folly, * A rarely perfect face,’ he thought, ‘ a face to make a fool of any woman. And to think the end of all his brilliance, all his beauty, should bo—Bracken Hollow.’ He left his sister, rejoined the earl, now pacing to and fro in the library. In the past twenty years of his life Lord Ruysland had never been fully aroused from his supineness before—never entered heart and soul into anything as he was entering into the hunting down of this young v oman. He paused and looked at the vignette. ‘lbis as I fancied,’ O’Donnell said. ‘ Rose has his picture. No doubt he favoured all the young ladies of his acquaintance with his handsome face. Here —look and tell me if his is the face you saw ?’ Under his outward carelessness nis pulses were throbbing with feverish fear. He handed the earl the picture. The next instant he was aroused as the earl uttered a cry of recognition. ‘I knew I was right!’ he said, in a voice of suppressed intensity. * This is the face I saw at the window—the face of old Hannah’s visitor—younger, handsomer, but the same. This picture makes that much clear, at least—Gaston Dantree i 3 the idiot of Bracken Hollow.’

(To be. Continued. )