JR. PERKINS

Auckland Star, Volume XIX, Issue 139, 13 June 1888, Page 7

JR. PERKINS

Of New Jersey, % TgE STOLEN BONDS. ~t» a •

■QJUPTEB 71 f'/iiaa quiver, Marlow rose to his feet, i 'Vs&tall the young woman,' he whis- ' ..fasitote messenger. 'Doi'i worry her,' the man answered. /Mr Applet, bid me stay till you come back. There is a hack at the door, sir.'

'M ngW Marlow snatched his hat, . lurried afrjjr, and leaped into the waiting kick. 'Me fast and double fare.'

'AH right, sir,' said the driver, plying tiiifhip, and they rattled over the almost deserted streets.

At last they reached the police station. Wow. paid the driver and hurried in. Appier's office was closed. Surprised, he was to: the public office and asked the I«liceman on duty : i 'Where js Mr Appier?' 'MrAppier! He'soutj sir.' 'Out! He Bent word to meet him here.' ■ 'Better see the chief, then.' Marlow entered the chief's office. 'Where is Mr Appier V 'Oat of town.'

'Impossible! He wrote me to meet him lift1

'That cannot be, for he was ordered out iltownon unportapb business early yester'ij,and r ffpn'tbe back till eight o'clock in lleprning.' Marlow's heart seemed to stop. : 'Read this,' he said, and handed the *. ■■ ' •This is very strange,' said the officer. Wta moment.' He left the room while a strange sickening feeling crept over Mjiov.

Soon the chief returned. ' I have been raring inquiries,' he said. ' Appier is out 'ftowQ, and no such arrests have been ™c. Where were you when >ou received *B; .'--ii.

Marlow explained \n as few words as Mile.

'It is a put-up job to decoy you from atnouse. That fellow's accomplices are Wg to spirit him away. Buc we'll try ™get eVen with them yet.' J* rang a bell. ' Lall Harris and "ompson,1 he said to the man who i»rered.

y?° Piemen soon appeared. ■■wvrith this gentleman,'he taid, 'and '^anyone he bids you to.' Make a, clean sweep of his friends,' lie Marlow; 'specially the volunteer "^-Be quick ! or they will be oft. *>n<w hurried out, but the hack was-W-'Alter some delay they secured ;,«Her and drove away at a rapid rate. J n tn«y reached the house all was tie m darkness. After some trouble P»W t>lCet * an entrance and hurried to Wck b raoQi—it was empty ! No one in *«"ouse could throw any light on the Sri' fl» angry landlord gave what ;™W the most plausible solution. i»,i ! tllk-sly th<> drunken fellow waked '^got up and went away.' Cl ■ ote that Marlow held convinced jv "M ifc was not so. In vain the police tiered and threatened the inhabitants •»e tenement. They had heard nothing tsirt ?? V nothing> and were moreover very ay F. .across the way, whom they all Isrdat^ 6' said she had once or twice *otin I' ljut S^e suPPOsed it was Marlow kill- ' ut or sending for the doctor. yTjP/ovedto be the very time that Cr [7 l B«t after that she asserted j>»nl nothing. lad J?? inted >sick at heart, full of vagus L™ suspicions, Marlow returned t'teonU 6 few himself upon the bed, if» „• , nofc sleep, and lay there in a sort mai' e till morning. At eight ■fi; hn^ed after Apple", hia, Z(|tectlve was in his office, and heard Wid ! b with surprise. ' Well, sir,' ftj.i'i .y°u nave learned this much, that ,g Snapped.' "tfforu, 5? ?^ om ?—she had no enemies — walked the floor for a few Vii'k i^ n he stoPPed before Marlow, kgljd i, ,hands ih his jockets, he 'Ibl"n^ 0[ as heslowly said: St'j ft' 8- 8 Doraeb is at the bottom of it. ■ appeared too. I don't believe he

parlour

drowned himself. I believe he's run off somewhere with her.' ' But for what reason ?'

' Well, he thinks your father swindled him out of lots of property, and now he's going to force the widow to pay it back.1 Marlow sat appalled. He did not like Dorset; he remembered his hard threat— but this—this was awful!

He sat like one dumb.

Appier was touched with pity for him. 'You go home,' he said, "and rest, and let me take a hand at it. I'll call at your house by twelve o'clock and tell you what I've learned.'

Without a word, Marlow rose, but he staggered like a drunken man out of the room.

' Poor fellow !' muttered the detective, 'he will go mad before long if there isn't some let up for him.

Mechanically Marlow went home and to his room and sat there. This new idea was something more terrible than any, yet worse than death — far, far worse. It would be a relief to know that she was at rest and peace—but this—the worst he had ever feared was that, wandering about in an unsettled state, she might be knocked and cuffed about by hard rude strangers or lodged in some asylum and be subjected to severe treatment—but this—decoyed, kidnapped by an unscrupulous enemy ! Oh Gocl! —it was a>vful —How much more must he suffer ?

■ At last Appier came and Marlow went down to the parlour—deserted, desolate

' Well, Mr Marlow,' said the detective, 'I've been inquiring round and about, but lain:t done much. I went to that house, but they either don't know or won't know anything. I rathor think they don't, and that Dorset decoyed you off and then hurried away his accomplice. But I doubt if anyone heard him. It is likely he had a confederate in the house, but who I can't; gay. I tried to see the young woman, but she was sick from all she had gone through, her friend said, so I didn't see her. Perhaps she was playing off. 'I think it likely she was really sick,' said Marlow, feeling a,pity for her in spite of his own trouble.

' Then I called on Mrs Ramsey, Dorset's housekeeper, and tried to pump her, but she really knew nothing. That's a poor place for that girl,' he added abruptly. ' She ought to be sent back to a boarding school. I said so to Mrs Ramsey, but she said there were no means to defray her expenses. That Dorset had left nothing behind him and that the establishment was now kept up by her savings.' ' Mr Perkins said that Dorset had failed, and, he thought, had committed suicide.'

1 Did he ? Well, that confirms my theory that Dorset was desperate, and took that method to recover what he considered his —and so compel your mobher to settle with him.' ' And if he has,' cried Marlow, roused to sudden fury, ' I make him swing for it!'

'First catch him,' said the detective. 'He will make off after he gets the money and sends for his daughter—he's devoted to her, I'm .told, all that he cares for, the housekeeper, too, seems fond of her, which is stranee, considering ' But Marlow paid no attention to Appier's gossip ,■ he was not interested in the private affairs of Dorset's household.

He sat in moody silence. At last with an effort, trying to arouse himself, he said : ' Suppose I go after that sick girl ; I can take her some fruit and ask to see her.'

' That's not a bad idea,' said Appier; ' you'd make a good detective.'

So the two took their way back to Pattrick's late residence, only to learn that the girl was very sick indeed, too ill to see anyone. Marlow left the fruit, and saying he would call in the morning went away to pass a wretched day and night. Promptly the next morning he called. 'Lizzie has gone,' said her next-door neighbour. ' Gone !' cried Mirlow. ' Where ?'

'To the hospital. She was took so ill that some district ladies who camo visiting her got her into the hospital, and she was took offlast night.' 4 To what hospital V '] dunno.' 'On what street then?' • I dunno.' ' Looks like we are doomed to be baffled, said Appltr. 'Put I'll try apd unravel this mystery.' " That night, as Marlow was moodily walk-

ing to and fro in the desolate parlour, the bell rang, and Appier was ushered in by Sarah, who snorted defiance at him.

'I have found the girl,' cried Appier, indifferent to Sarah's wrath, ' and oh ! — such a mare's nest — she is Mrs Ramsey's daughter ! It has happened just as I told her: but the girl is very ill and can'fc live long. Come while she is conscious.' He hurried Marlow away. The hack stopped at the hospital door. The surgeon In charge had in consequence of the urgency of the case agreed to allow the two to see the patient. She had altered very much since Marlow had last seen her. Her face was ghastly white, and dark circles were about her mouth and eyes. Her long coarse black hair lay over the pillow, making her pallor more startling. ' Has she come ?' she asked eagerly as they entered. ' Here, Lizzie,' said the doctor, ' is a gentleman who wants you to tell him all you know about that drunken man who disappeared at your lodgings.' ' I know nothing about him !' cried the girl. ' Don't speak of him, the very thought of him makes me sick. 1 .She shivered and closed her eyes.

'Only say if you know anything more than what you told me the night I saw you/ said Marlow gently.

She remained silent.

' Speak, I implore you. So much hangs on your words,' he urged. ' What do you know V

'Nothing! Nothing!' cried she, 'I know nothing. Leave me.' Disappointed, Marlow drew back, his hopes dashed. He was leaving the little room where she lay when there was a slight bustle at the door and Ethel Dorset and Jeffreys entered. At the noise the sick woman's eyes opened and rested on them. Jefi'reys started, and stood scowling and gnawing his lips. ' Jenny !' cried Ethel, hurrying forward, ' oh Jenny ! is it you ? ' Yes, it is me,' said the other. ' You said a stranger who knew about my father wanted to see me.'

'That was to make sure of yon, for see you I must and would before X died, or I could not die easy. I have little cause to love you,-Ethel Dorset, for you robbed me of my lover, aye he was mine till you came between us and took him from me. He swore, till you came, that he loved me and would be true to me, and I listened, fool that I was ! believed him, trusted him, only to be cast on", spurned like the dust from his feet! Bub you, shall never have him! Never! Never! He has deceived me, he will deceive you.' 'I am dying now,' cried Jenny Ramsey, turning on her guilty lover. 'Dying, murdered by you, body and soul. But now know, Horace Jeffreys, that your triumph ceases, for my restless spirit shall haunt you. Never a minute's peace, never a minute's joy shall you have. Never! Never !'

She ceased and sank exhausted on her pillow. The guilty man stood dumb, his tongue clove to his mouth.

With one horrified look-like a creature in a frightful nightmare—Ethel turntd to goJeffreys moved to follow, buti she, shuddering, shrank from him and moved towards the door. Ho dared not follow her, the look upon her face restrained him.

Full of pity for her — his enemy's daughter—Marlow followed. Still like one in a dream the girl went on and out into the street—alone: Pity for her dazed state, her troubles, her helplessness, made him follow. Nor had she gone far before a man spoke to her and thrust himself on her. Marlow quickly shoved the fellow aside. 'Be off!' cried he, 'or I'll call the police. Don't be frightened, Miss Dorset, I will protect you. You know me. Marlow is my name.' 'Only let me get home,' cried the distracted girl. ' Only let me get home.' ' You shall at once,' he said, and hurried her on, for she refused to take a carriage. ' No, no, I cannot!' and panted on like one who would escape from herself. At last they reached Dorset's house. lOh ! what shall J do? How shall I toll her mother ?'

' Tell her the simple truth,' said he; ' she is obliged to know it.' Mrs Ramsey herself opened the door, ! Well,' said she, * who was it 1 What is the matter ? Where's Mr Horace?'

'Oh, nurse ! Oh, nurse !' cried the girl. ' Jenny, Jenny !'

' What of Jenny ? Speak.' 'At the hospital,' sobbed the child, ' 111! Oh, so ill!'

' Dying V said the mother, with a strange calm.

'Oh, nurso,' cried the girl, clinging to her arm, ' dear, dear nurse ! Worse than dying!' ' What do you mean ?' asked Mrs Ramsey," fiercely. * ' Unloose me, girl ! Answer me! Can't you talk ? Where's Mr Horace V

'Don'b speak of him'"!' wailed the girl. ' Don't speak or' him !' •And why not? Who are you who stand theregloatingover us?' Without a word Marlow closed the door and retired. He walked across the street and stood waiting, looking afc the house in an aimless sort of way.

All at once the door opened, Ethel was thrust out weeping and clinging in vain to the furious woman, and the heavy door closed again. Tho girl stood on the steps weeping bitterly. Again the door opened and Mrs Ramsay came out. She thrust Ethel off the steps.

1 Begone !' cried she, ' and never darken my doors again. You have done nothing bub bring ruin and trouble on me and mine ! Begone ! I hate you.' She drove the weeping girl off the steps and then hurried away.

Marlow crossed- the street. Ac he stopped beside her, Ethel shrank back, but as she recognised him she sobbed out: ' Oh ! what shall 1 do ? What shall I do ? Where shall I go ?'

' Come with me,' said he gently. 'Where?' 'To my home.'

The timid, frightened young creature clung; to him helplessly.

(Oh ! will you be so good to me ?' she sobbed.

'Trust me,' paid the young man, soothingly, ' I will protect you.' She looked up at the frank, manly face, in the clear honest blue eyes. ' I will go,' she said simply. Hailing a passing hack, he helped her in and drove home.

( To be Continued.)