“AN EVIL ANGEL”

Waikato Times, Volume 122, Issue 20512, 31 May 1938, Page 7

“AN EVIL ANGEL”

CHAPTER XXll—(Continued) No sign of any -polict official, as far as Marie could perceive, yet-, if she had been more conversant with the geography of the Maison Francine, she would have been aware that an adjoining room was only divided from the bureau by a very thin partition, in order that Madame Francine might hear what was going on, and keep some surveillance over the ‘hands,’ whose work room it was. For the last few days the work girls had been shunted to the other side of the establishment, so that this room might be available, if necessary, for the use of the police. A plain clothes detective was sitting there now, taking notes of the conversation between Madame Francine and her visitor, who was not Louis Marchand, whom Marie had expected to see, but, to her surprise, the very man for whose address a reward had been offered —John Britain, the valet of the late Earl of Yesey.

That his present lordship would walk in he fully expected, since Madame had telephoned to him, and he had agreed to reserve the story he had to tell, in connection with the death of his late master till the heir to the Earldom should arrive. When instead of his lordship, the door opened and the dead man’s fiancee appeared in the threshold, John Britain's legs shook under him, and tottering he sank down on his knees in a craven attitude .of humilating pleading.

“If French had told me—you —you would be here —I could not have faced the —the,” he murmured. “So Frencli it is who has brought this man to book —that is why he is on guard,” was Marie's immediate conclusion, and then, with her usual promptness and self-reliance, she called out.

“French, come up here, and finish the work you have begun. Let us have no whimpering. Make him speak the honest truth, and he will receive every consideration-” French, who had obeyed Marie’s summons with alacrity—said stoutly. “Speak up like a man—as you did to me. Miss Marie ain’t no ogress. She’s kind and soft.”

“You will be lenient, lady—French said as no steps against me would be took—that there was no police about, only friends as wanted to know — I know as I’ve done wrong—l've trespassed grievously—but you’ll —” “Go on man,” prompted French, speak out bold, like as you done to me. The more as you beat about the bush, the severer will be your trial.” “It’s women, Miss—women, you’ll forgive me for saying so, as is at the root of most men’s ill doing. If It hadn’t been for bright eyes and blandishments, I shouldn’t a tripped.” “The trip? Go on, what was it?” “That there letter as was found — but then, when I wrote that there letter, I had no more thought that the poor dear Earl would be murdered —no more thought than that I was likely to be murdered myself.” “What did you think?'’ “Think as she had some right to a last interview with his lordship, and that if he wouldn't see her straight, he must see her crooked, especially as the seeing put a tenner into my waistcoat pocket.” “And this woman—this Cristabelle, where did she get money to give you a tenner?” asked Marie, taking it for granted that the Earl's nocturnal visitor was Cristabelle, for John Britan had not said so.

“Lor’ bless you—She were not poor, and she ain’t poor now. She’s been generous like, but conscience weighs heavier nor gold. Miss Cooper.” “Then Cristabelle is not dead, as they said she was?”

“Well, I can't rightly say as she is dead, nor can I rightly say as she is alive.”

“Do not give us the trouble to guess riddles,” said Madame Francine angrily, “but say at once who is this woman, who had the temerity to enter my establishment as Mademoiselle Cristabelle, and play havoc with the private affairs of my clientes. Speak.” But John Britan was silent. Once more his legs tottered, and his face grew livid. He acknowledged his own sin in having written the letter, and left the door on the latch; he trembled at the thought of the consequences, if he gave the so-called Christabelle away. Yet answer he must. In half audible lisping accents he murmured,

“She was the lady, who for long years had loved his lordship, and whom, only a few months before, we all believed would have been his wife.” “So,” said Marie, who at the moment was more intent on clearing Morlqv, than on identifying Cristabelle. “When you let in 'Captain Morley, where was this vimman? Had she arrived?” “She was in a dark corner of the passage—She saw him come, she saw him go, and heard all his conversation with his lordship.” ••You are ready to affirm this on vour oath?” and there was a gleam of happy light in the eyes of practical Marie. •’There was to be no oath taken—no police—only friends,” muttered Britan, who little guessed that at that very moment each word he uttered was being inscribed on the police sheet. Neither Marie or those about were, however, likely to let him off a distinci assertion, that Lord Yesey was in life when Morley left his house, while of course the police were quite read;' —amateur investigation failing, to walk in and, under the threat of immediate incarceration, to extort, all he knew from this somewhat halting witness. “Go on,” prompted French, “tell Miss Marie you know for a certainty that Captain Morley had no hand in this crime.” •1 only know what she told me,” grumbled Britan, “and hearsay ain't no evidence they say. All I know of my own knowledge is she was in the passage, when I let Captain Morley in to see his lordship.” “Why did she tell you anything?” . asked Marie. He looked up keenly. “You’re a most too much for me : Miss Cooper, with them clear eyes , of yours.” “Never mind my eyes—go on. Why did she tell you.' He paused. It was French who whispered. “He found a stiletto he recognised as hers, and to be able to , blackmail her, he remained silent, j This he let out when he was drunk.

An Exciting Mystery Story.

(By JOHN MIDDLEMASS.)

I'd been a watching for that drunken bout for weeks-” "Women and drink, they’s a man’s ruin," whimpered Britan, while Marie shivered. Though the tale he told was Morley’s salvation, the truth was very terrible. "Where is Cristabelle now?” she asked hesitatingly, as though almost afraid of putting any further questions. “In Paris,” was the answer, “else I should go in fear of my life—but you'll shield —you won’t let me be— Oh my God, if a man could only guard his tongue. “Do you know who this woman really is, and where she is to be found?” asked Marie, addressing French. ‘‘No, Miss Marie, Ido not. I only —but, there, Britan must finish up his own tale without no shirking.” “Well, I suppose I shan't get no more coin—if she didn’t think as the game was up and the blood hounds out of leash, she wouldn’t have gone off to Paris. -

“Go on, speak out,” again prompted French.

But Britan was bent on prevaricating.

“What will I get if I speak? Emma Lane, she do say—- “ Emma Lane! almost shrieked Marie Cooper. “What has she to do with it? “Dunno as she’d aught to do with it—but she do always say, Shuffe the cards and try to win. Trumps has a habit pi changing hands—” “Go on. Speak out the name.” “Well, since you’re that persistent. She, who visited his lordship that night, was Comtesse Feodore.” CHAPTER XXIII. A Supreme Moment “He must come back at once. That he is not guilty has been clearly proved.” “My dear young lady do pray exercise a little patience, and be thankful that the proving has been accomplished. The legalities of the Court must be sacredly maintained, or there would be no order.” “A fig for the legalities of the Court. Mr Ford, you are too exasperating. I sent for you, because I thought as Captain Morley’s lawyer, you would be vigorously active on his behalf, but you are no good at all. Everyone, In fact, seems to have deserted me—only French the butler Is staunch” and Marie, who was suffering acutely from reaction after intense excitement, sank down on the sofa, and Indulged in a paroxysm of tears, so frightening poor little Ford, who—a bachelor—was unaccustomed to women and their moods, that he ran about in a helpless sort of way, as though in search of something that he could not find.

Two days had passed since the interview with Britan in Madame Francine’s bureau, and Marie 'Cooper had telephoned to Mr Ford to come at once, and explain why Philip Morley had not, without any delay recovered the freedom, that had been so unjustly taken from him.

Ford, however, had by no means proved a strong disinterested ally. From long connection with law courts, he was far too much imbued with technicality to expect that any event, however clearly proved, could be brought about without delay—furthermore he himself —suspicion of others being part of his stock in trade —had always had a half fledged suspicion that Morley was not so wholly guiltless, as his sanguine friends seemed to think. Though recent evidence had proved a woman was, in some mysterious way, so mixed up in the crime, as to leave little doubt of her actual guilt, still conservative Ford could not quickly expunge from his mind the place In the matter, that he had somewhat regretfully assigned to his client and friend.

Strong impressions die hard, and, convinced though Ford was now compelled to be, that Philip Morley had naught to do with the murder of the late Earl of Vesey, still he was not surprised that magistrate and police would perhaps require more than Britan’s evidence, before they let their prisoner free. Nevertheless, the young lady’s unexpected breakdown troubled the little man In a way he but seldom allowed himself to be troubled. She had been so plucky and practical, that this sudden collapse was all the more startling. “He must see what he could do to hurry up the officials, especially as Miss Cooper had said only French the butler'was staunch.” The decision to act, and the way in which that decision should be carried out, took some few minutes to permeate through a brain that was so accustomed to dissect, that to arrive at a ready grappling with pros and cons was next to immposslbLe. (To be continued) ~