A BID FOR A FORTUNE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2362, 1 June 1899, Page 50

A BID FOR A FORTUNE.

" I have talked to you very frankly," she said, " but I believe in sudden friendships.''- " You have honoured me highly," I an-"" swered. What else could a man say? She was a very pretty girl with tragic grey eyes.

"Am I mad?" she asked next.! "Don't people often want to die ? "

" Not mad," I cried, " only original. There seems no' reason why you should feel unhappy and anxious to be rid of life ; but probably you have not told me all."

We were fellow passengers in one of the daily" steamers, plying between Dorich and Courtwich, had stepped off the pier of the little seaside place together, and were bound for the ■ larger town, otherwise we were strangers- I, an artist, was -visiting Courtwich for the sake of its quaint old buildings, Marcia Vane was returning from Paris to meet her brother and her fialice.

She told me her history during the half hour we had spent on board. Her wedding with Mordaunt North was to take place next month, and her brother Arthur was staying in Courtwich for that reason.

We had got into conversation about a paper parcel which > she had dropped into the water and I had rescued ; it contained Mordaunts North's portraits, which were, uninjured

Was she really mad? Could it be possible 1

• I gazed at her clear-cut face as she leaned back, wrapped in her long blue cloak, against the wooden seat? beside me ; her skin was §mooth and rosy, -her mouth quite firm, but there, w"as a desperate look in her wild grey eyes. This girl was coming home to England to marry the man she declared she /loved, after travelling for pleasure in Europe with a widowed friend, a Mrs Keswick. Then why was that pathetic expression in her gaze? The hour was early morning. There were not many passengers on board, and the steamer was entering the wide mouth of the River Harwell, passing distant banks which were, low and reedy, where grey herons stood motionless among the sedges. Miss Vane shivered.

" What a desolate spot ! . . . Yet I should like to lie at rest under that green water. ... I am cold. . . . and ill. , . . Can you get me some brandy?" Her face had grown qtfite white. As I hurried away I saw her slip along the bench behind the tall piles of trunks which she had brought with her, so thai, she was completely hidden from the other passenger's

When I returned bearing tho brandy Miss Vans had disappeared. I searched the steamer for her — in vain ; then I told my tale to the authorities, to whom, fortunately, I was well known. As soon as I had repeated the girl's strange words the listeners were all of one opinion. She had slipped overboard — purposely. All the passengers but one were keenly interested in the tragedy. The exception was a young man who wore black whiskers and a s^een shade- over his eyes ; he slumbered peacefully on the bench opposite. " Could he have seen anything? " I asked. " No, sir ; he's as fast off as a baby, and he's a Frenchman," was the contemptuous answer.

So Fate had placed me in the midst of a tragedy. I was obliged to tell my tale again and again ; to witness its effect upon Miss Vane's brother and Mordaunt North, her fiance, and to remain in Coiirtwich until the case had been finally described as one of " Suicide while of unsound mind."

Marcia Vane's body was not recovered. Her trunks were delivered to her, brother, who returned the disappointed bridegroom all his love letters. „ Poor Mordaunt North! I had liked his face in his portraits, but my heart went out to him when we met in such sad circumstances. : He bore his awful loss like a hero, but it was evident that life for him had parted with all its sunshine.

In simplest, often broken sentences he told me that he had loved Marcia for herself, not for the large fortune she had inherited from an aunt. I could well believe it ; there was honesty written upon his brow.

Arthur Vane I disliked immensely ; he affected to feel his sister's loss most bitterly, bub I caught him laughing heartily with his chums one night. Her will left all her wealth- to 'him. Before I left Courtwich Mordaunt North and I were firm friends, and he had asked me to write to him ; Arthur Vane endeavoured to keep us apart. Heaven alone knew why! Marcia's brother left the town when I did. He was going to seek Mrs Keswick, his poor sister's travelling companion, to find out more details of what seemed to have been a strangely sudden failure of mental health. - Before three months were past I heard from Mordaunt that Julia Keswick and Arthur Vane were engaged.

An artist who travels a great deal naturally comes into contact with many strange pec pic, and sees odd happenings in different lands, but I could not forget my most peculiar experience, that talk with the girl on board the Courtwich steamer, and her subsequent'suicide.

That autumn I paid a flying visit to Morel ,unt North before starting for Italy. I felt a. thrill of horror as the steamer passed over the green water beneath winch Marcia Vane was lying. It was just such another morning, coldJooking and windy, with the solemn herons standing motionless by the banks and islets. North was a changed mail in appeaiuaca.

I with grey streaks in his fair beard and deep lines- across his brow. He made me tell him again and again, ail il could "remember about the tragedy. "I can't understand it! " was his constant -cry. "Marcia was .the brightest, bravest of girls, and our love was a joy to us both. How could her mind become clouded? Her letters were overflowing with expressions of ! happiness. . .• . Let me show you her

photograph." . He led- me into his bedroom-, up to a large portraitwhich-nung upon the wall. I could noV^how, you xier photograph when you were here before," he said, "for the only one I possessed had been sent, at her request; to a shop in Paris to be tinted. -It got lost in transit, but this is copied from another of the same kind which I was • fortunate enough to be able to obtain from the original photographer. * Marcia never liked being taken; even- her brother had no portrait" of Ser.-'" •• That he talked on rapidly was a comfort; to me, for I could not have spoken a- word at' that moment. My brain was in a whirl. I could only feel the advisability of not slabbing his wounded heart afresh! . . . My discovery might mean joy or sorrow for his future ! ' For the portrait before me was not that' of the girl with: wj»om t. had - talked on \ board the boat.

" She — she had wonderful grey eyes," I murmured at last.

" Not grey ; hazel, almost brown," said Mordaunt, thoughtfully. "Tell me, does that look like the face of .a woman who would eve/ drown herself? My poor wild darling ! " "No, indeed, it does not." \

"TO.

Marcia Vane's death placed her brother in. possession of her fortune. Marcia Vane was not the woman who had committed suicide from the Courtwich steamboat. These were the two facts which I bore in my mind every second of the day and night. Had Arthur Vane persuaded some alreadydesperate woman to kill herself while personating his sister? Impossible ! Yet some explanation must> exist, and Vane should make it to me some dayl •My journey to Italy was postponed ; I stayed in London until I heard, in December, that Mr and Mrs Arthur Vane were spending their honeymoon in Cairo. An expensive journey for me ! — but on Christmas Day I was standing on the steps of a well-known Cairo hotel, having just made a call upon Marcia's brother. I had said nothing to alarm him ; he had soon got over the first shock of seeing me, and f was resolved to arrange a lonely attesting with him soon, when, at the pistol a mouth, lie should explain the mystery of Moicia's disappearance. -As I turned quickly away I encountered a lady who was ascending the steps. Itwas Marcia herself— at least, no — it was the we man, calling heraelf Marcia Vane, who had talked with me on board the ' Courtwich steamboat. " Look out, Julia ! " cried a girl who was

with her

Her eyes met mme — she turned white as a ghost, and would have hurried indoors had I not clasped her hand as though in greeting. " How do you do, Mrs Vane? " I said, alcud. ■ (Julia Keswick, now Julia Vane, beyond doubt! My mind was beginning to unravel the mystery!) The companion had left us, so I added in a whisper: '• You cannot escape me. If you want to buy my silence come to this address, alone, in "an hour's time, and with a cheque for a thousand pounds." She glanced at my card, then flashed a look of gratitude upon me. " I will come."

She came. Directly we were alone, she laid the cheque on the table before me. " Marcia Vane will have to be rescued," I said quietly.. "Where is she?" " You will give us time to escape with our money to a safe country before you communicate with her? "

" If I interfere I can scarcely venture to make use of this," was my answer, while fingering the cheque. " True. Marcia is in charge of aDr and Mrs Murray, in Paris ; they have several sham lunatics. I will order them to release Marcia in a month's time."

'" How did you manage in that steamer, you clever woman ? " A vile light gleamed in her grey eyes. "I did not go overboard, but disguised myself quietly behind my trunks, thrusting my woman's hat and cloak into one of them. Black whiskers and a green shade soon, change a face." "You were the sleeping Frenchman?"

" Yes ; no one saw him go on deck, bufc his ticket was taken all right, so the authorities were unsuspicious." "Your, motive was plain enough." "No doubt. I loved Marcia s brother, but we were too poor to wed, so I planned how to obtain Marcia's fortune. Now my husband and I will leave Europe for some spot where the law cannot touch us. Thafc thousand pounds will pay you well for' a month's silence."

" I am perfectly satisfied,'' I replied, tearing the cheque into fragments, as two detectives stepped from behind a screen. "Trapped!" cried the woman, hoarsely. " Ay," I said, " for Mordaunt North's sake."

The real Marcia Vane was soon set free, and it was my proud privilege to escort her down to Courtwich — by rail. She had been well cared for.

I shall never forget the radiance of Mordount's face as his eyes rested once again on the original of his cherished portrait ; indeed, my memory is not likely to part With any incident of that tragedy on board the Courtwich steamboat.

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