AND THE POISONER.

Auckland Star, Volume XXIX, Issue 184, 6 August 1898, Page 6

AND THE POISONER.

Bf ST". dEOBGE RATHBORNE.

Aatkot of H DoHtfr Jack," . "Captain

Tom," etc,

CHAPTEK XXVI.

jAT THE MERGY OF THE TIDE,

Although I hare but this fleeting glinipse of /Qic man's face, it is at once stamped. upon my mind as that

of a crazy person. This may seem straiige, and almost beyond the border of t-easbn, but there are several things to sustain it. In the' first place, just as Joe has heard me say, some of the best years Of my medical life have been spent among the inmates;: of the p;r°-'+^;t insane asylum iieaf jSTew. York. While there I have come, ib Jiiipw xue looks end actions, of those afflicted with the malady in its yanouk forms, and that experience- ha^' been of exceediny great value to me on many occasions eince. , ' . ',' Then, agiaili, We ;knbw, that Jacques is believed by his step-sister, Joe's wife, to have crazy spells. If this be so, surely one must- conic upon him when the Wind and waves combitife to create such a confusion of horrible sounds, and the baleful fire from the black heavens, accompanied by its thunderous' train, adds to the weird aramai . ■ . Yesj Jacques is mad! Of course these things do not pass before me in mental review. I simply jfealiie the fact based upon them. Indeed, I'm given no time for vague speculation, fojf the man, after that awful laugh, shouts in my ear; 'So we meet again,- doctor. You love the raging of the Storm as well as t dos .Listen to the" howl of the demons^-they are all around lis in the air—-old friends of ini'ne. We are

goingl to be treated to a magnificent i Sight aftei 4 a while.- I have engaged this house for myself. It is a very fair place to view the show, biit I know df. a better, doctor, and I have reserved a front'seat for you. Do you hear, a front seat, where no one can get in your way. I'm very kind, doctor—it's a part of my nature. I Want to show you I'm thankful to yo.u for putting my wife but of the way. . YOu're a sly dog, doctor, to ihake *them think I did it; but they won't find me. I have an engagement with, the "Icing of the storm at ten o'clock exactly.'

He continues shouting- thus in my ear. I only hope he will prove garrulous enough to keep it up for a while. Minutes are precious, for they

may bring my friends to the spot. 1 realize the gravity of my situation, and know the danger is great.

Any man held by an insane person can believe his life to be in extreme peril; for the notion may come into the diseased mind j and out it goes, as bnß might snuff a candle. iit does no good, to, thing, for bound as I am there is .no --way of escape openv-'To' shoii^ aloud-, »yen had my moutli-' been" free,' might" afford me some satisfaction; but it would, at the same time probably anger the maniac, and possibly cause hj.n to have recourse to extreme measures. So I can only lie there and wait, in suspense, his next move. Nor am I kept long in this sort of agony. The man picks me up as though I were but a child. lam amazed at his wonderful strength, and yet know what superhuman power seems to be given to the insane. In the past I have seen them do freaks that would cause most people to doubt my veracity, did I attempt to describe them.

When I feel, myself thus raised, a mental prayer flashes through my brain. I can think of nothing, only * that this mad Frenchman, is about to toss me into the hungry maw of the great ocean. Can you smile if I say I shudder — surely the desperate character of my situation is enough to make any living being have a wild spasm of fear. Then he changes his mind, or has forgotten something, for he roug-hly drops me. again upon the pine boards of the piazza. A thrill shoots through my frame, . for the action has freed one of my arms —the right one. If the other we're dnly free, how I would fight like a tig-er for my life; but tug as I will, it remains fast.

Then, like an inspiration, comes into my brain the remembrance of the fact that I am armed. ■ With desperate eagerness I explore the region where lies the little revolver given to. me by

Joe —the same weapon with which brave Edith defended herself against this arch-scoundrel two nights before;

it is hard to get at, owing to the oilr

skins on my peculiar recumbant pos-

itionj but such, desperation as mine . must accomplish its aim, and finally the weapon is in my hands. With trembling- eagerness I draw back the little hammer. The madman has taken a queer notion that his coat hampers him, and he has been throwing it off during this brief space of time, while I am thus engaged. Now he bends over me again—l cannot see him, but I know he is there. I raise the Weapon —it touches his breast, God forgive me for what lam about to to, but it is Jacques' life or my ownj and a question of 'the survival of the fittest. As a physician, I may yet dp much good in the world, ■bringing hope and healing to suffering humanity, but this moral leper leaves only a trail of evil behind him. Then I pull the trigger —no report follows! It is the cruelty of fate that by accident the hammer falls upon the empty barrel in the cylinder—Jacques is spared—he will not die at my hands. The madman seems to guess his danger—his hand may have come in contact with the revolver at his breast. At any rate, ere I can with nry thumb raise the hammer again for a second trial, he has snatched . the Weapon from my grasp With a wild cry, dashed his fist cruelly in my. face, almost knocking me senseless, after which he again snatches me from the piazza. I feel him leap down the steps —he runs like a deer along the sand in the opposite direction to Bryn Mawr; Almost stupefied,, I hardly realise what is taking1 place, only that he just keeps beyond the reach of the rushing waves. He has no difficulty in carrying me—indeed; I appear to be as lie-lit as a feather pillQW in his arms. Whither is he dashing with me? Was there any method in his mad w-icls? ■ • ... ■ i hnrdlv know what to think, when J suddenly no!ice that he has Ceased

running—he is now cautiously moving out toward the sea. Each wave that comes in floods him to the knees, jtist as it did when he came off the piazza.

If I had not given myself up for lost before, I certainly do now; The last faint hope dies out of my heart. I believe Jacques. has selected a certain spot to walk into the terrible breakers, which will overwhelm us, the undertow, carrying us out.. With; that wonderful instinct possessed by? the insane, he hasipund the.spot,.even in the blackness that hangs lik,e a pall over the scene.

Suddenly I feel him cease to move forward. What does this 'mean? Something hard strikes my back—it is a post planted firmly in the sand. Jacques places me on my feet, presses my back against the post, and with feverish impatience begins, to wrap lashing about me. I comprehend it all. He means that 1 shall stand here, bound to this stake, while the tide rises higher, and the waves dash over me, until at last they cover me completely. *' A fiendish scheme, indeed, and ,one which I am fain to believe Could only originate in the brain of a madman or a bigoted religious zealot—for somehow I remember cases I. have read where true believers were doomed to this fate in the time of the French Huguenots. My brain is already so stunned by the events through which I have hastily passed, that even this awful fact does not seem able to bring any additional horror. I know that I am, in all probability, doomed, and what matters it how death .comes? . .

The wretch is an adept at tying— he has me bound there in an incredibly short space of time, and standing knee-deep in the water, he bellows— in- my distracted state of mind his voice sounds like thunder in, my ear:

'Good-bye doctor. Hope you appreciate my kindness in securing you such a good seat—front row in the balcony, you see. I must leave you, but we shall meet again, sometime, for I reckon we're bound for the same place. I have work to do. Do you know, I'nl the modern Nero, fiddling While Rome bums. That hoUsg yonder is my throne. Au revoir, dear doctor_i have an engagement at ten.' He leave's me. Wretch as he is, I hate to have him g. o _t o be, left there alone to face the incoming surges of the remorseless sea. ' \ . Each wave seems to creep higher than its predecessor—it is not imagination on my part that suggests this —I know it. The tide sets in with astonishing swiftness during siich fearful hurricanes as that which now sweeps up along the Atlantic sea-

board. How long will it take to overwhelm me? That last wave, in spreading out, came above my waist. At that rate they will be above my head in ten minutes—fifteen perhaps. Well, I have just that long to live. My feverish state changes to one of unnatural calm. I even look toward the Ferguson cottage, when a more brilliant flash of lightning than usual illuminates the scene.

Every angle and timber is clearly defined. . ' , . -" ,

I even see the boiling water around it, and.notice men upon the piazza— they must be Joe and his companions. Have they-/caught the mad assassin? Do" "■' tliey iiiSs ■ me?•'• Is - there any chance of their seeing me, amid the whirl o-f -the-waters?

A wild hope flashes into my brain, but only to die out again as suddenly. It does not seem possible that they can guess what the crazy man has done'with me. If they miss me at all, they doubtless believe I have taken a roundabout way to the cottage, and am simply delayed. What cuts me more keenly than anything else is the fact that I am unable to make any sound in order to attract their notice. Even if my shouts were drowned in the1 horrid roar of the warring elements. I believe there would at least be some satisfaction in giving vent to the feelings that dominate me. I strain my arms to ascertain how well the fiend has done his work. Alas! it is but to meet with bitter disappointment.. There is only a faint glimmer of hope —my right arm was free when he bound me to the stake, and it is now secured with but two laps of the rope. I feel that there is a slight hope in this quarter, and when the horizon looks so dark, it is astonishing how eagerly one seizes upon the faintest gleam of light. There is no fallacy aboiit the drowning man clutching at a straw —he never fails to do it, because, in his excited fancy, it is magnified a thousand times, and seems to be a floating log. At first my efforts have no apparent result, but mechanically I keep them up, for there is nothing else which I can do; Then I am wonderfully gratified to find that I have succeeded in moving my arm a trifle —the Wet, instead of contracting the rope, allows it to stretch at first. This small success tempts me to renewed exertions, ,andl show a strength I have not dreamed lay in me. It is probably the greatest fight I ever had with death, and hence one can easily imagine my desperate efforts. Success comes finally—with a last fierce tug 1 manage to wrest my arm free, and immediately tear away the handkerchief which has been preventing me from shouting-; at the same moment the water rises steadily, and a wave actually passes over my head.

(To be Continued.)