The Mandeville Mystery.

Alexandra Herald and Central Otago Gazette, Issue 829, 19 June 1912, Page 2

The Mandeville Mystery.

(PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.)

By ERNEST A. TREETON,

author of "The Luck of the Darrells," "The Green-Speck Clue," 'For Lot* and Justice,"/"The Instiga- tor/' "The Saving of Chnstia Sergison," "Her Double Life," &c, &c.

(COPYRIGHT.)

CHAPTER J L—Continued. Presently he found his interest arrested fay the entry of a newcomer, whose personality was of a type apart from the common order of men. His shoulders were slightly bent, yet his bearing gave him the appearance of carrying himself slimly erect. That he had travelled far and wide was apparent from the cosmopolitan unconstraint of bis manner; yet his hairMs* face was so marble-like in hue as to make it seem that the sun had had no power to bronze it. This almost mysterious pallor was accentuated by hair which was jet black, and by-deep-set eyes which gleamed with piercing brilliancy. Though his features appeared not easily fathomable there was no sign of-a naturally sinister disposition in his expression,, and although his figure suggested Mephistopheles, he had made concession to prejudice by clothing himself immaculately in the raiment of fashion. The new guest made his way in a casual manner towards the table at which Athelston was seated, and Athelston's strong dramatic sense found itself under the spel lof an irresistible attraction. TVs he reached the table he appeared to notice Athelston for the first time, and paused . : "Ha! Mr. Winfield, surely—l don't think lam mistaken!" he said softly. His manner was gentle, and his aspect pleasant. "I answer to that name, sir,"« ad--2 rflitted Athelston, .guardedly, "but I acknowledge that you have the advantage of me." "I am well aware of it," Mr. Wm}field," the stranger agreed, easily, seating himself at the opposite side of the table, "and for that reason I shall enjoy and esteem the privilege of introducing myself. You will not mind, lam sure. Thanks. A solitary stranger is glad to find friendliness and geniality in a country that he has almost forgotten. They call me Doctor Jasper Clewer, Mr. Winfield—some say, Rasper Clewer," he concluded, wiHi something approaching a cynical smile. Athelston had found himself signifying assent to Clewer's overtures almost independently of himself. The doctor dominated his interest in spite of his effort to keep his mind detached, and effectually excluded Sir Richard Mandeville from his mind. "The adantage is still against me," observed Athelston, a little awkwarlly. "I do not remember a "Doetor Clewer." "Quite true," agreed Clewer, with a steady glance, which Athelston felt to pierce his inmost self; "quite true, Mr. Winfield. But you will include me among your friends, because I know you will. Julienne , waiter, please." Athelston did not resent this confidant, and unconsulted settlement- of his personal inclinations, as in ordinary circumstances he would have done- He could not; the mysterious potency of Clewer fascinated him. "Fortune has been both kind and unkind to you of late," Clewer went on. "I am afraid the acceptance of a new play is but a poor compensation for the loss of a mother. Still, while I sympathise with you on the one hand, I am glad to be the first to cangratolate you on the other." "But how?" exclaimed Athelston, in amazement. -"I gathered you had but jusi returned to this country." "Within the past week, after an absence of many years," Clewer confirmedo. calmly; "and I am glad to knowthat you have had a new play accepted, calmly; "and I am glad to know would have done better to produce it in your own name. Athelston is now • fairly entitled to the honours which the experimental Winfield has won."

Athelston was* speechless with astonishment. So far as he -was aware none share dthe secret of the new play except the management of the Olympian and himself; yet this stranger ville."

This time Athelston started visibly. "I am afraid, Dr. Clewer," he said, evasively; "that I am not very expert at conundrums. I do not know that 1 have any cards to play against Sir Richard Mandeville."

"Then why go to his house this morning?" asked Clewer, with the same quiet assurance. "You see, Mr: Athelston, that Dr. Clewer is something out of the common. You are endeavouring to fix my relationship to Sir Richard Mandeville —whether I am a personal friend or a professionknew of it ,and of his family name. "Ah, I see, you are surprised, though I don't see why you should be. Life is a jog of surprises, Mr. Athelston. I think you will understand me better as we proceed; meanwhile, would you take it as an impertinence from me if I gave you a word of warning ?" s "I don't see why I should, resent genuine interest in my welfare," Athelston remarked. *

"As to that," Clewer remarked, "the sequel will show.>» But let me advise you," he went on in an incisive tone, at the same time lowering his voice, "to be careful how you play your cards against Sir Richard Mandeal inquiry agent. Well, if I tell you that I am neither, I suppose you must believe me." ._

Must! . There it was again—the imperative mood of thia man. He had laid his finger upon Athelston's secret thought, and Athelston knew that it was useless to deny the fact. Clewer did not attempt to spoil the effect of his coup. He quietly occupied himself in withdrawing a small phial from his waistcoat pocket with his thumb and ringer. He placed the diminutive bottle on the table, and turned it round about, still with the same thumb and same finger. "Rather a strange mixture, eh, MrAthelston?" he queried in % quiet curious way.

"I don't know that I have ever seen anything like it before," rejoined Athelston. _"A tonic?"

"No—a sedative." The liquid gleamed clear and green like a limpid emerald. Clewer shook the bottle, uncorked it, then raised it to his mouth, and swallowed its contents at a gulp.

"It happens, Mr. Athelston, that you have had the opportunity of witnessing the disappearance of a draught of a kind, which no other man in England has vet seen; for I may tell you that it is not known to the British Pharmacopoeia- I learnt the art of distilling it in China. China is the queer duckling of Mother Earth's chickens, and we don't know yet what it will become. There is more hidden behind its walls than is dreamt of in our philosophy, Mr. Athelston. For instance, were the constituents for producing that draught of mine to fail there would be not the Doctor Clewer you shall be still more so. There are and very different person of the same name. Ah, I see you are interested; you shall be stil lmore so. There are some things which I can show you, but there are some other things which must remain behind the veil. A little knowledge i» a dangerous thing, they say, eh, Mr. Athelston? Just so. But there is some knowledge which all men would like to probe, if they knew how, and had the courage not to blanch at the price which must be paid for it. That is dangerous knowledge, if you like, eh. You will come I with me, and I will teach you?" Athelston promised. His mind was] fascinated by a subtle _ curiosity. He I

could not have refused if He ':- could. Clewer gave him ah' address in Chancery Lane, and an appointment. ; ; "I take that sedative three times a day," added Clewer, and, though he knew not why, Athelston found the unimportarit detail strangely; obtrusive in his' thoughts. ;■'-'

"Of course not," endorsed Mandeviile, with paternal contempt. "Had the name been that of a horse, a jockey, or a> music-hall * woman you would have found it , riafd to forget it." .-: : .'■ ■-'■':-;/.- '

CHAPTER lII.—MANDEVILLE . ■■"■■ AND SON. When Sir Richard Mandeville was left alone by Athelston to the turmoil of his own violent passions and stormy reflections, he returned to his room and flungh imself into the chair from which he had risen only to dispatch George on his dogging mission. For half an hour he sat motionless, outwardly more than usually preoccupied, inwardly a raging tempest—at one moment bringing the vague lash of vengeance down upon Athelston's writhing shoulders, at the next forcing his brain to think —clearly, if possible, but at any rate, to think.

George would have flared up again, but he had brains enough to see that something vitally affecting his own interests lay behind this and he therefore held his peace. -' "Now, I want your particular attention," pursued the baronet'grimly. "That fellow Athelston will have to be traced ,and he will have to be traced without the aid of a private detective. And when traced he'will have to be thwarted—do you understand thwarted, at all hazards. You may as well know at once that this Athelston threatens the name of Marideville: and its fortunes with ruin." j

' George started. Gross in his instincts, he had no intellectual appreciation, but he was quick to feel" the lash which threatened to whip him. from the animal enjoyments of his existence, and he winced.

And he had need. There is no gall like the discontent which springs from incomplete success. For years he had been treading his way upon a crazy plank of his own contriving, which barely spanned the chasm of financial disaster which he was endeavouring to cross. Men envied him, envied his success, envied his means to adequately support it, never dreaming that he had nutured against higli heaven a vengeful spite for withholding from him the firm foundations of assured wealth which his compeers enjoyed. Why did the grim spectre of bankruptcy haunt him and not them?

"He has it in, his power to throw me from my position, and to force you to the' necessity of working for thirty shillings* a week if you can find anybody to consider you worth that much," continued Mandeviile, with another touch of in his tone; "and he has been here this morning to let me understand that in certain contingencies- he intends to use ;his power." .

"Which means, I suppose, blackmail. There are the police." "Did Athelston walk to Hyde Park corner?" asked Mandeviile. "Yes."

And now this Athelston —this rabid fool with a conscienc-2 —had come to 'hreaten to kick the rickety plank rom under his very feet.

Who was he? Was he known or unsr:GWs? He ran throuh the alphabet vi ihe professions, recalling every name and every face that he could remember having seen in print. The tribe of journalists, with their anonymity and übiquity, plagued him most with nervous inability and uncertainty. He could not fix his mind to marshal one-half of the scribbling host that had crossed his path. They jostled and jumbled each other. Curse them! Why was such a horde of unescapeable pests suffered to exist ? Politicians, lawyers, financiers ? Pah ! What little better were they? Politicians ? He knew the. breed. Lawyers? He had studied law, and knew them also. Financiers? He knew their virtues to a touch. Pah!

The balance of his speculations settled in favour of journalism. How had this fool, Athelston; become possessed of the damming receipt which he had now hung, like a Damocles' sword, above his .head? He had understood that all the papers relating to his transactions with the journal had been destroyed. Mandeville took up 'Athelston's card again and turned it in his fingers mechanically. The woman's portrait which Athelston had produced recurred to his mind, and set him upon a new train of thought. "The face Was very like. But was it the same It seemed so—yes, it was; there could be no doubt it was the same—yet—. Then, could this fellow be ?" Mandeville paused nervously at the suggestion of his own thought. "No; what nonsensical fancy! Athelston— Athelston ? It was not the same namu —nothing like ths name!"

Then the pleasing George entered to report his failure. Mandeville, with an effort, schooled himself into his Parliamentary manner, swung himself round in his chair, crossed his knees and pressed the tips of his fingers together. "Well?" he asked, quickly. "It isn't well, sir, but just the opposite," grumbled the amiable George. "The fox ra*\ to earth. You said, 'Take a cab.' I took a cab with a drunken fool on it, and there's an end of ifc." ■

"And put a fool inside!" snapped the baronet, sharply. "Take a chair, George; you were the biggest fool for picking a sot to drive you, but I want you to dismiss blundering, and to give me your w r its. It is time that you should clearlv understand."

"Understand what, sir?" resented George. "I should like you to understand that it was a case of taking the first cab to hand." Nevertheless, he took a seat, and returned his father's •steady glance with some sullenness. And in this mood he was by no means an interesting specimen of high breeding. With his thin, brick-col-oured hair, his loose, fleshy, puffy face,", his instincts of the cheap sportsman, he might have wandered into the adjoining mews without being out of place. He had all the appearance of a stableman With a jibbing j temper.

"I have dismissed the cab from my mind, and want nothing more to do with it," returned the baronet, summarily. "What I now wish to know is whether you have ever made the acquaintance of the man who presented this card?" "Athelston?" muttered George, cudgelling his memory. "No; it is a new name to me." "Then you had better make yourself familiar with it, and-devote every opportunity to discovering its owner," said Mandeville, with emphasis. "You may as well know at once that Athelston speels mischief. I suppose you did not recognise him." "No, I did not get a full view of his face, but his figure seemed to remind me of a man who was pointed out to me at the Savage—an author, or something of the kind. I can't recall his name."

"Then you can rest assured that he is not in the least afraid of the police. The circumstances do not admit of placing the matter in the hands of the "Then what else can you do?" "Nothing, except in the way I have indicated. The fact is years ago I

had access to some sensational Government information. A newspaper paid me my price for it, and took a receipt. That receipt has "somehow got into this Athelston's possession. If the matter comes to light, I shall have to retire from public life, and that means financial ruin. At the present moment I am interested in this syndicate to the extent of at least ten thousand pounds. Ten thousand pounds is the value of my name7'and the value of my name is the value of my public position. Now this Athelston has been here to-day to give ine the choice of two alternatives-—eithei to withdraw my name from the syndicate, or to face the publication of the papers which he holds." George sprang to his feet. "And what did you do, sir?'' he asked. "I did nothing," replied Mandeville, shortly. "But you see the prospect. Publication means retirement, and retirement .means no position, and no position means—in short, bankruptcy and ruin."

George still paced the room, and into his face came the low, ominous ■look of an angry bear. "And in any case the result is the same," he muttered; "for if you withdraw from the syndicate you lose the means necessary for the support of your position. What do you intend to do, sir?" asked.

"I intend to do the thing I suggested," returned Mandeville, with a rasp in his tone. "This lellow Athelston must be discovered and thwarted. The documents are more rightfully mine than his, and were they in my way I should have no hesitation in taking them. His rooms must be found, and a way must be found to enter them. As to the execution, my interest and my temper would be to undertake it myself. But you see the difficulty. People know me too well, but what Sir Richard Mandeville cannot undertake, you may well accomplish without attracting attention."

■'And by the deuce I'll accomplish it—hook or crook \" George cried.

"It will be the deuce if you don't," rejoined Mandeville, drily. "And perhaps you will now bear in mind what I, have said to you about a limit to extravagance, and you will understand my reasons for urging forward your own settlement. Your marrying Miss Macqueen is our only other hope, and it must be soon. Have you been makuse of your, opportunities as I advised?"

But George Mandeville did not answer, except by an indefinite shrug; and across the Ainds of father and son fell the shadow of a dark idea.

CHAPTER IV.— THE FAIR AMERICAN. t\'o man's fate wis even yet spun without the aid of a woman, and Sir Richard Mandeville had announced his good or evil genius when he reminded his son of Miss Macqueen. "You had better join «the ladies in the morning r00.m," said Mandeville, "and I will follow you presently/' Without another word, George went, but Mandeville did not, and when his father followed him into the drawingroom, George was endeavouring to unravel a tangled skein of silk for Miss Macqueen, with Miss Macqueen's directing and advising head as near to his as circumstances, and the proximity of the window, would permit. Mandeville observed the situation at a glance as he entered the room, and smiled a grim, satisfied, inward smile, intended for the entertainment of nobody but himself. (To be Concluded.)