AURA DURAND.

Auckland Star, Volume XXII, Issue 72, 26 March 1891, Page 10

AURA DURAND.

A DETECTIVE STORY.

Br E. M. MURDOCH, author of '••the rival detectives," "the detec' iive's daughter," etc.

CHAPTER XXXVI. (Continued.)

•Have the goodness to drop histrionics on your pars,' she said, «If you aro an impostor, and not Senor Castro, what is your motive for assuming this part ?' ' I have told you, my motive was—to get

you in my power.' •Well! and what then?' j ' And then—to pub you out of my way. * Out of your way ?'—the lunatic theory began to gain ground again. 'Yes,' rising impatiently. 'Come, you have asked questions enough. Areyou prepared to tell me what 1 want to know ?' How cold and hard and crnel lie looked. But he did not look as she imagined a lunatic might. It he were not an officer of justice, and not insane, what then could he be? A sudden thought flashed upon her, and into her heart came the first throb of actual fear. « Who are you ?' she cried suddenly, ' ana what do you want to know ?'

He approached a step nearer. 4 No matter who I am,' he said ; * I want to know who has charge of your mother's papers and letters. I want you to write that person, instructing him to put them all in my keeping.' Lenore Armyn drow a long, long, shuddering breath, and for a moment her faco was corpse-like in its pallor. Step by stop the recoiled from him, moving backward, until the wall stopped her further retreat; then she breathed almost in a whisper, ' Ah ! I — know you now.' 'What! you know me? I hardly think it.' •Yes!' she cried, with sudden, unexpected fierceness, * I know you. Blind ! blind that I have been not to recognise your evil face ; again and again io has been pictured to me, again and again I havo been warned, implored, to fear, to dread, to shun you. Oh ! I know you,' her voice rising, her form growing firm and erect, and her fierce wrath driving fear out of her heart once more. ' You traitor! you liar ! you poisoner of my mother's whole life 1 I know you, Jason Bradwardine, and I hate you ! I hate you ! I hate you !' The villain stood astounded at her fierce energy, and before he could framo a reply, she wenb on.

' It is you who has cagod me like a rat in a. trap, you, against whom I have been so often warned, and I have been so blindly self-reliant, so certain that you were the least among the things I had to fear. Man, do you know what you have done ? You have murdered my mother, as surely as il you had used the knifo or poisoned bowl, and now I wish 1 could kill you. Ah !'— lifting her face, and throwing up her arms as if invoking a curse upon him—' for the first time I know what it is to feel like a murderess. If a wish could kill, you would lie deafe ab my feet.' With a low, blood-curdling laugh, ho moved again toward her, and she now saw that he held in his hand a glittering pistol. ' You have not softoned my hearb toward you,' he said, mockingly- 'If you havo done raving, tell me whab I want to know.' No answer ; her eyes wero roving swiftly about the room.

"You need not try that,' ho went on. 'I don't intend to shoot you, unless you make ib necessary ; but if you make any noise or try any tricks, I am ready for you. Who has your mother's papers ?' •Do you think I will tell you ?' she retorted, with blazing eyes. 'I am quite at your mercy, Jason Bradwardine ; if you have made up your mind to kill me, you are wasting time.' ' Will you give me an order to bake charge of your mother's papers?' 'No ! When I am dead, my mother's papers will be returned to her relatives, and then they will know whab you are. English jusbice will seb aside an enbail thab would enrich such a villain as you, Jason Bradwardine. My mother's papers are safe from your hands.' The man übtered a fearful oath. * Curso you !' he cried. ' What do you know of these things ? Your mother's papers can't hurt me. I have a different reascn for wanting them.' * Well! you can take my life, but you can't have my mother's papers,' she replied, scornfully. ' But if I spare your life ?' ' Bah ! As if I would trust you ?'

«Will you give me those papers ?' • Will you take my parolo of honour, and suffer me to go from this place and deliver to you the papers you want ab a place I shall appoint 1' ' No, by Satan, I will not !' ' I thought so. Well, you can't trust my honour, Mr Bradwardine ; 1 can't trust yours. Thab question is settled.' ' And your last chance for life is settled wibh it.'

• My life is nob so very dear to me,' she murmured, ' bub to die by such a handbetter the hangman. 1 The words were spoken half to herself, but he caught their meaning. * You are ready to die ?' he asked. ' Yes,' without even glancing ab him. ' I am ready.' Jason Bradwardine hesitated. He had expected to frighten from Lenore what he so much desired to possess—certain papers that, if they came into the hands of Sir Hillary Massinger, would damage his cause materially. But he had commenced wrong. He had meant to kill her in the end, and had thought that the mere mention of possible death would draw from the girl the information he desired. He had nob counted upon two things—first, the courage and shrewdness of the girl; and, second, her knowledge of him, and concorning the part he had played in her mother's life. He regretted now that he had nob sprung upon the girl and buried a knite in her heart when she was unconscious of his presence. But he must kill her now ; ihe necessity for her death had suddenly become doubled. Lenore was still standing againsb the wall, and he, with pistol cocked and held in readiness in one hand, came still nearer her, and with the other hand he slowly drew from his breast a glittering knife. Involuntarily she shrank back, and then forcing her voice to calmness, she extended her hand towards the knife. ' Give ib to me,' she said. * I had rather die by my own hand than by yours.' How the black eyes glittered as he drew back his hand ! ' I told you I would leb you choose,' he said, with a sardonic smile. * You may die by your own band, bub nob by bhe knife. I can give you poison.' Even then, face to face with death, she could sneer ab his cowardice. ' Oh !' she said, 'you are afraid to put a knife in the hands of a weak girl. You poor coward.' He muttered some fearful oaths once more, and then said, savagely : ' Once for all, will you have the poison or be stabbed V ' Give me the poison,' she said. ' I will nob die by the hand of a coward.' He took from his pocket a tiny phial, and tossed ib toward her, saying : ' There, then. It is prussic acid.' It fell to the carpet: just ai her feet.

She stooped swiftly and picked it up, then turned to him triumphantly. ' Now, hear me,' she cried ; ' all your life long your nights will be haunted by my dead face. All your life will become a burden to you because of this day's work. If ever yet a spirit came back to earth, I will come back to you, and make your life too horrible to be borne. 1 mean it ! And you might havo escaped all this ; you might have delivered mo up to justice, for I know that I stand accused of murder. You mi>_'ht have placed me in the felon's cell— perhaps on tho scaffold—aud luiyo consolod yourself with the thought) that you had done your duty ; but now—now, my blood is on your head, as is my mother's also 1' The first words of this speech had caused Bradwardine to wince aud shudder. He was superstitious, as all cowards aro ; but the last words brought to his lips a derisive smile. 'You mistake,' he said. 'If a man commits murder in this country he is pi-oven insane. But a yoiu-._ and beautiful woman, like you—bah ! tho judge would shed tears over you, and you would be brought out as an actross, and all the world would run to admire. I would not deliver you up to American justice if your crime, were tenfold murder, for—l want you to die !' 'My crime was only this,' she said, lifting the phial at ihe same moment, ' to have been wronged, and to havo liod from the man that wronged me. Sea ! This is my last moment on earth. I have sail my last words to you. All the days of your life you shall remember this deed ; and remembor this, too, I have never onco asked for mercy at your hand—l. despise you too utterly. You can causo my death, not my humiliation.' Sho withdrew her eyes from his face and turned them skyward. 'And new, God of Heaven, and all tho white-souled angels, hear me (with my last breath) swear, that no drop of Clarence Artevoldt's blood reddens my hands ! —that I am innocent ! —raid may God forgive me for what I am about to do 1' She bowed her head and lifted tho phhl to hor lips.

[To Iv continued).

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