PAOLINA OR THE MILLIONAIRE'S PLOT.

Wairarapa Age, Volume XXXII, Issue 10185, 10 March 1911, Page 2

PAOLINA OR THE MILLIONAIRE'S PLOT.

OUR SERIAL.

By MARIPOSA WEIR. Author of "Evadyne's Temptation," "A Chase Round the World," etc

CHAPTER XLYI. THE PIT OF DEATH. "For Heaven's sake, do not murder me!" Was Punderson's petition as he found himself powerless in a grasp that seemed to him like that of a giant. "If you want my money, take* it; hut spare my life." As he thus pleaded, lie remembered with a thrill of fre:-h horror, that he had put it out of his power to propitiate his unknown assailant with gold, if, indeed, he were one who might ho so propitiated. "I am not a robber," returned a deep voice, terrible with the intensity of hate and inexorable purpose. "T am one who has been robbed, and who will havo justice—and revenge!" The voice was that of the Italian. It sounded cruel and remorseless rather than passionate. It suggested the .hopelessness of any prayer for mercy. The chill of despair crept icily about Punderson's heart as he listened. "Count," he said, "I have wronged you; but I will make full atonement so far as it can be done with money. I will make fourfold restitution of all that I have had from you. The Italian, still holding the arms of his victim firmly, pinioned in his iron grasp, half dragged, half carried him some dozen yards from the roadside.

Their eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, and the two men could now make out a few of the nearer,objects around them. The great oak loomed ~ beforo them like a muffled giant. ; Close.beside it gaped the mouth of the deserted shaft —a black orifice, so much blacker than the surrounding gloom as to relieve the darkness of the night. ... - The count pushed Punderson down on a fragment of rock. "I am about to release your arms," he said, "but if you stir from the spot where you are placed, I will kill you. Can you see objects ?" Punderson shuddered. He saw the murky pit yawning within a few feet of him. He looked up, and saw something that glittered in the uplifted hand of the Italian —a knife, not of the broad-bladed American pattern, fashioned to cut as well as thrust; but long, and straight, and narrow, with a lean, eager, look, as if it thirsted for j blood. j . The count repeated his question. "Yes, I can see," replied the other, with a-touch of sullen weariness in his tones; for something of the apathy of despair was beginning to blunt the poignancy of his terror. "It is good," returned the Italian. "Listen, then. You have duped and robbed me. You and the lawyer conspired to swindle me. You pretended to aid me in my plan, and despoiled me of all the resources by which I hoped fo accomplish it. You exult over me with laughter—you and your cunning confederate—you divide my spoils and despise me as a silly dupo. Ah! ha! You shall find that this poor dupe can bo terrible." Punderson trembled. The Italian did indeed look the very incarnation of inexorable vengeance. . , . "Count," said Punderson, in a faltering voice,* "I will do all that is in my power to .satisfy you. I will return every dollar of money I ever took from you." "Ah! you are good," returned the Italian grimly. "It is my purpose. It was my resolve when I saw you retire from the salon, loaded with the spoils of the gamsters. It was-for that I placed myself tipon your track, and followed you. Listen! Since you and your xascally confederate despoiled me, I have been poor—even as they that ask alms at the street corners. He bestowes on me these last; few days some coins, as one throws a morsel to a dog that starves. I, whom., you robbed, have not, to-night, so much as will purchase a meal or a glass of wine. First then, and now, you shall make restitution to me, at least in part. Come! ho is not a highwayman who demands back that of which lie has been defrauded." "I will return your money in the morning," said Punderson. "I have none here: I swear to you that it is '■ true." i "It is false," returned the other. J "In the morning! I in my turn do ( swear to you that you shall never see ' the morning unless you restore to me what is my own." "By all that is sacred, I have not a I dollar about mo, not one, if it would

save my life. But if yon will go Lack with dip to the place where you saw me stop when 1 turned back, you shall have- all." "Lies! lies!" cried the Italian, i "shallow lies! Go hack with you! Because you duped mo once, do you think that I can ho again so easily r entrapped? Bring forth your purse, I eomand—that purse heavy with the spoils of the gamblers. Bring it forth and niako restitution, or I will instantly precipitate you into the pit!" It was clear that the Italian was utterly incredulous and could not he convinced. His passion, too, seemed to have mastered him, and his tones and gestures, as he thus threatened, were those of a raving maniac. ■ . . •• "You will not rob me of all," said Punderson, in a tone of pleading remonstrance ; 'you will leave me at least a part of it?" "All that would doubtless be insufficient to repay me. But we shall . see. Produce the purse." Punderson partially arose, and put ; his right hand in his pocket as though j to comply with the demand. The count remained facing him, still grasping the dagger. "Why do you hesitate?" he asked , impatiently. "It is vain that you ; strive to evade me." "Here it is then, since it must be , so. But.do not be too hard on me, count." So speaking ho drew sometliing from his pocket, which he extended toward the Italian in the darkness. The latter stretched forth iiis hand to receive it. The something was a cocked derringer. The count's left hand encountered the muzzle-, which was pointed direct-' ! ly at his heart, and accidentally turned it aside as Punderson drew the trigger. The ball tore off the end of the third finger of the left hand, and whistled by the count's shoulder. As Punderson fired he sprang baek- | ward, and at the same instant the Itlalian uttered a cry .like that of a wounded tiger, and with a cat-like leap qrecipitated himself upon his foe. j "Save me, Bob," shrieked the wretch, as he felt the count's iron grip upon his throat, "save me, and you shall have all the money!" By tho flash of the pistol he had seen a crouching figure five paces behind the count, and a little to the left of him. .The face of the figure was pale arid set. Even in that brief instant Punderson had recognised it as the face of Handsome Bob. The Italian did not heed this exclamation. Probably ho did not understand it. Punderson had no opportunity to repeat his appeal. As he struggled vainly to release his throat, from the suffocating the ground beneath his feet seemed suddenly to give way, and with an appaling cry he went down into the shaft," striking against its jagged sides at | every few feet of his descent. So desperate had been his clutch upon his enemy's arm that it was only by the exertion of his utmost strength that the Italian saved himself from sharing the fearful fall. The count paused and listened on the brink. The low groans that came up from the bottom showed that ':, it was very deep, and also that Punder-, son was in all probability, fat/illy hurt.' It was a consummation which the Italian had not designed. Vengeance upon his enemy was but one of the things he sought. Money to meet his immediate and pressing needs was.another. He must get back to San Francisco and see the young girl'-whom he.now believed to be the heiress of the MarHani fortune, or else he must lose all tho time and labour and means that ; he had expended in the matter. ; (To Be Continued.)