THE MYSTERIOUS FORCE: THE STORY OF A GREAT REVENGE.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXII, Issue 129, 1 June 1901, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE MYSTERIOUS FORCE: THE STORY OF A GREAT REVENGE.

*. By E. L. .TEFFEESON.

I.—THE WRONG THAT WAS PONE HIM. Michael Arraitage paused, and looked quizzically a1 the end of the cigar ■which he had been smoking. His nepbev.' Gerald, leaned forward over the little siTiOldnft fable, und touched the old man on the nnn. "It is hardly fair to me, uncle," he j said. ! The other looked up, and his eyes; gazed steadily into those of the boy ■wbom he loved. "I know it's not, Gerald, my lad," he said, "but it cant' be helped. I have sworn to myself that when you are twenty-five —and, remember, you are only twenty-one now —I will tell you everything. You shall know what your true name is, who were your parents, and the why and the wherefore of everything. Tut, tut, boy, don't worry about matters which, after all, will bring you no happiness. You are young, and you are the nephew of one of America's richest men. You have at your command the purse of Michael Armitage, the greatest inventor of the United States of America; a man whose name is revered by scientists and engineers alike; one whom even these English people treat with respect and with deference —plutocrats, aristocrats and plebians alike." Gerald Armitage looked troubled. On his handsome face there was an expression of melancholy; for, try as he would, he could not unfasten the gates of his uncle's memory. They were sitting together in a private room in the Hotel Cecil, London. For six months or more Gerald had been in England, the honoured guest of many noble families, and he had grown1 to love the country which, in his more youthful days, he had been taught to look upon with anything but reverence. Now, in the midst of his pleasures, and what is more, his love, his uncle, Michael Armitage, had arrived in England, and thus we discover them tete-a-tete at the Cecil in Michael Armitage's rooms. "There's only this to be said, uncle," he burst out petulantly, "I'm a man now, and have the thoughts, the desires, and ambitions of a man. It's all very well for you to say I phall be rich, and that kind of thing; but I would prefer to earn my own food, and my own comforts, rather than be kept in this state of wretched mystery. It is wretched to me; it would be wretched for anj'one to go around as I do, spending money as I do —money hardly earned by you —and to know all the time that the name by which you go is not your o.wn, and to be for ever under the impression that there is some stigma on the name which is yours by right." The other winced, got up, thrust his hands in his pockets, bent his head forward, and slowly paced up end down the room. For quite ten jainutes he was absorbed in his thoughts, meanwhile that Gerald watched him with curiosity. Suddenly, Michael Armitage stopped, his hand went to his head, and his fingers swept through his scanty grey hair; his brows met together in a scowl, and his thin lips dropped at the corners. "You have heard, Gerald, of my new invention, I suppose?" "There "was some mention of it in the ; papers, uncle; but it seems impossible." "It is not impossible, my lad, since It is an accomplished fact. I have inver.ted many things which people said :were impossible before they were exploited, and my Concentrated Force is no more impossible than those ether things which I have invented. rTrne, there has been no public demonstration; but there will be a demonstration shortly which will stagger the world of science—aye, and stagger the public at the same time. It is left for Michael Armitage, inventor, to suborn to his will all the forces of Nature; to have at his command a greater power than even Nature can, supply in one direction; since Michael Armitage can concentrate and can utilise in a smaller compass a bulk of power or foree —call it what you will—than Nature, with its "winds, its tides, and so forth, can employ. 1 "Oh!" and he raised his two clenched hands in the air, and shook them, "it is a glorious invention. It is the invention -which will crown my, life, for it will bring me my revenge! The revenge I have waited so many years to consummate. To be able at length to bring to his knees the villain who has made my long life the burden it has been . Great Heavens! What am I saying?" . Gerald was aghast at the change in the aspect of his uncle. Michael Armitage, the invariably calm, imperturbable, suave man of business, was now consumed by a passion which Gerald had never seen him controlled by before. His face was aflame, his eyes were starting from their sockets, his hands opened and shut with the intensity of that passion. "Uncle" he cried, starting up, "vehat do you mean? What vengeance do you speak of?" • Michael looked at his ■ nephew for ■a moment or two in silence, and then, in as calm a voice as he could comSnand, he spoke. "I hardly know, Gerald. There are •some times when I feel that I must tell you all—that the great burden which I have borne for so many years is too heavy for me to bear alone —that I must have your confidence, your assistance." "Tell me, uncle, tell, me, I am not a boy, and you know that I respect —aye, I love you." ', The old man laid his hand on the other's shoulder. "This much I can tell yon, Gerald—that this is not my first visit to England. Indeed, I may say . that I am no American, that by birth lam an Englishman. Listen: sit down, and I will tell you as much as I dare." "You remember, Gerald, that you have often asked me how I became an inventor. It was like this. I "was a comparatively poor boy, but even as a

boy I evinced a taste for mechanics, | and especially for electrical devices. My father, poor as he wa.s, managed to get me into a technical school, and there I prospered greatly. The, years passed by. and I, absorbed in ray work, scarcely knew of the lapse of time, until r found myself a young- man with my fame already beginning to roll through the world of science I invented things, but like most inventors, 1 was a man of no business capabilities, am) T benefited very little from what my brains created. " I was twenty-two years of age when [ accomplished what was considered at the time the most remarkable invention in steam mechanism ever produced, and realising that I had hitherto been a fool in the matter of j finance, I determined that this time ; T would keep my invention a secret, j But I had a friend, a great friend, ' a friend whom I would have trusted with my very life; a man who had \ grown up with me —but on different j planes —he was the son of a rich man, j I was the son of a poor one. < l; Time and again had this man. j whose name, Gerald, I shall not tell ' you, benefited by my knowledge of j mechanics. When he entered into the great cotton mills which his father owned he sought my aid in various ways, an aid which T never declined to give. Well, I confided the secret of my invention to him. He saw at a glance the tremendous possibilities in the matter wf money making which would come from its exploitation. Further than this, he promised to stand by mo, to find the money with which this great idea could be put into practical shape, for it would mean thousands., naj', millions, to us, since it would revolutionise all kinds of steam machinery, especially those in cotton mills and other industrial works. "This friend of mine, whom I will call the financier, kept the secret well. At that time I had done what most men at my do. 1 had fallen in love, but realising that 1 was too poor a man to dream of matrimony I had forborne to press matters. My invention was complete. You may imagine what dreams 1 had of its possibilities, what visions of wealth which would assuredly come to me, of the time when I could with some show of confidence ask for the hand of her I loved so dearly. "This man, my friend —the financier, I call him—shared in my enthusiasm, learned the secret of my invention, and then set to work to plot against me, to ruin me, even to kill me, so that he could gain possession of the creation of my brain and benefit from it alone. Infatuated fool that I was, I could not see through the thin cloak which masked his villainy. "It would be needless to tell you how he accomplished his ends, but accomplish them he did. My degradation seemed complete when I found myself-in a felon's dock charged with robbery, charged for a crime which I did not commit, and with the principal witness against me my so-called friend —the financier. .1 had seven years' penal servitude, and when I came out of those gates, broken in health and crushed in spirits, I turned to the man who had proved so faithless to me simply to ask why he had done it. "What had not happened in those seven years? My invention —that priceless invention, had been exploited, and by this man—the financier. He it was who had benefited wholly and solely by my brain; he it was who stood a millionaire, and who had been knighted for his work. His work! Mine, Gerald, mine! . "He spurned me, and maddened at the treatment I had received, I swore revenge. And then I endeavoured to find she whom I loved. " Eemember, Gerald, I was a man just released from prison. The stigma of crime was upon me: and when I went to her house, the house of her father, they refused to see me; and though I sought and sought her it was some weeks before I learned the bitter, the terrible truth. She—she who had sworn to be so faithful to me, waa married to him —the financier!" Michael Armitage paused, folded his arms and lowered his voice, so that Gerald could scarcely hear what he said further. " I tried to kill him—on three separate occasions I tried to kill him. As he was leaving his club one night I made a stab at his back, but was frustrated, and just managed to escape arrest by the skin of my teeth. I shot at him one night when he was travelling homeward in his cab, out missed my mark; and on the third occasion when I grappled with him on the doorstep of his own house in one of London's most fashionable thoroughfares, I should have killed him but for the fools who rushed forward to prevent me. " They threw me into prison again, where I had ample opportunity of nursing my hate, until it boiled and bubbled within me, ii.nd seemed to tear me sometimes to pieces. Thus the long years passed. I was a free man again, white-haired and old beyond my years. I slunk out of this country, slunk to America, dropped my name for ever, and there, in that land beyond the Atlantic—the refuge of the outcasts of the world—l started my 1 new life. J " You know what the result has [ been, Gerald—my present position. I When I went to America first I met my j brother, who helped me as well as he could. He died, and gave you into my charge, and you have been with me ever since. " Now, Gerald, I will answer the question which was the first you asked me when I entered this room to-night I —why I am in England? "I will tell you. It is to wreak my vengeance on that man who, in my youth and in my manhood, has caused me such misery, such degradation, such agony. I have the means at my command to bring him to his knees. " He, at the moment, occupies one of the most prominent positions in Britain's financial world. He owns rail- , ways, he controls fleets of ships, his i voice in Parliament is one listened to by the whole House with attention, he j is a man who is respected wherever j he goes, he has the ear of the whole nation. . ' "See me bring this man down into the gutter; see me make him so that every-

I body will turn from him in fear and ; loathing': see iuo take from him every | vestige of his power; see, me crush him , -cni!-h him into the earth! Good Hea- j vena! Gerald, 1 feel lam going mad—! mad!" j IT. THE REOTNNJXG OT-1 .MICHAEL'S) VENGEANCE. Three days had passed since the! convarsatiou between Gerald and his1 uncle, a conversation which had so; much potential gravity for Gerald' himself. ,\i first, the young" man was inclined to think what most reason-! able people would, under the cricum-i stances, conclude—that bis uncle was! mad! The story of the great, wrong, and the awful threat of vengeance of which Michael Armitage had, in his! excitement, unbosomed himself, filled! Gerald with a vague fear for the future. He way well aware that some mystery enveloped his antecedents,! and though time after lime he htid \ endeavoured to.penetrate the veil hisi every effort had heeu unsuccessful, for| Michael's unbending will and inflexible temperament withstood all Gerald's entreaties and importunities. In this not very happy frame of mind concerning his uncle, Gerald's thoughts reverted to another and, for the time being, equally momentous phase in his own life. Kis love for Yera Claremont! Everybody admitted that the eldest! daughter of Sir Eushton Claremont j was the most brilliantly beautiful wo-1 man of the season. Her debut into! society had been the signal for the! gossips to speed on wings of mysterious speculation the forecast of herj future. It was hinted that Sir Rushton—well known to be an ambitious man—possessed exalted ideas with regard to his daughter. The name of more than one peer of the realm had i been coupled in gossip with that of the! beautiful Vera—more especially as it was known that eventually she must become one of the wealthiest of English women, and the "catch" of the season. Judge, therefore, of the consternation, not to say chagrin, of many of I these self-constituted arrangers of Society's affairs to find all their cherished .speculations blown to the four winds by the mere advent of what they called a "low, vulgar American." Gerald hud come, had been welcomed by the Clarernonts, was seen, and had conquered. Gerald loved Vera with all the ardour of his impulsive nature. Aware as he was that his uncle had other designs for his future, yet he was headstrong enough to throw any scruples in that matter on one side." True, he had forborne telling Michael of'the' fact that he had met his fate; that, come good or ill of hi.s adventure iut.o the realms of love, no power on earth would cause him to swerve from the course he was pursuing. ; Under these circumstances he was angry at Michael's reticence concerning the past, and he was alarmed at his uncle's demeanour on that liMit at the Hotel Cecil. Under a pledge of inviolable secrecy, Michael had told Gerald something of his latest marvel in electrical discovery. It was no less than a mag-neto-elect rieal accumulator which would collect or control the elements. Bulk for bulk, the force which Armitage could control wa.s greater in power than that of any natural or! artificial power. The statement that he could overcome the forces of nature by the application of a greater force was not the assertion of a visionary. Gerald had with hi.s own eyes seen that force demonstrated. Michael had set his apparatus in motion, and Gerald had been dumbfounded at the results. And in what direction was this influence to be exploited? As Michael had said—in the wreaking of a diabolical vengeance. On this the third day after the experiments Gerald was conversing with Vera in the conservatory of Hawkesley House, Sir Eushton's magnificent town residence. Vera was perturbed, for something had occurred which had plunged the whole household into gloom. "Tell me all about it," Gerald had asked; and, as Vera spoke, so his heart sank withjn him, and the cold sweat of a great fear broke out on his head.----"It was after dinner last evening," Vera said, slowly, and in timid accents. "Mr Gilbey, one of the directors in the Hunnable Cotton Mills, was our guest. Sir Eushton has a biointerest in the mills. Mamma and myself had retired to the drawingroom, and were talking, when suddenly we heard an awful scream. I rushed to the dining-room to find my father standing by the table, hi.s face livid with fright, and with his trembling finger pointing towards Mr Gilbey, who was seated at the table. | There was apparently nothing the i matter with him. He held in his hand j an indelible pencil, and before him I were spread some papers, about which, I learned, he had come to see Sir Eushton. For a moment I was too frightened to do anything, my father's face was contorted with terror, but then I went over to Mr Gilbey and saw what was the matter. He was dead—stone dead, and had died at the very moment he was about to sign a paper." Vera paused, and Gerald was silent. Truth to tell, he dared not speak, for before his mental vision the Image of Michael Armitage arose, and unconsciously he traced in what Vera had told him the work of his uncle. 111. ' THE POECE MACHINE AT WOEK. It was on the 20th October that the series of happenings commenced which mystified all England and wrought consternation amongst a large body of men. Without warning, the vast macbin- ! cry of the Haskett Ironworks, at Tipton, in Staffordshire, came to a sud!den standstill. The Haskett Works covered an enormous acreage, and em-

ployed more thau two thousand workers, yet in a moment every engine, every machine, every Nusinyth and every lathe stopped, and no power that could be brought forward could start them again. The whole staff, from the general manager down -to the mere puddlers, were mystified and aghast, and as day succeeded day and every effort put forward to restart the machinery proved futile, the wildest rumours became current. Amongst the more ignorant and superstitious of (.be labourers it was even suggested that the works were under a spell. The management was distracted, and the chairman, Sir Knshton Claremont, who had hurried to the scene, was half beside nimself since the occurrence look place at a time when important government contracts demanded incessant work.

But on the fifth day. without the slightest warning, the whole of the machinery restarted of its own accord, and not only that, all the mechanical devices for controlling- anil adjusting were powerless to stop it, For two days the machinery raced at a pace impossible to obtain by mere steam power, and at the end of that two days Ihe Haskett Works was a chaos. "Every particle of the shafting, every item of machinery, had by the simple atmospheric friction caused by the high rate of speed been reduced to so many heaps of bent and twisted debris, and when this had been caused no workmen would go near the shops, -which they were under the spell of the devil. Public interest was then directed towards the North of England, where, on the morning of the 27th October, a most singular thing happened. The North of England Railway Company found itself in the peculiar position of not being able to run a single train. By some unaccountable means a'J the signals and all the posts became locked. The traffic, disorganised, could not proceed in any direction. Sir Eushton Claremont, chairman of this, one of his-most valuable financial assets, was maddened at this fresh trouble which came upon him. In four days the loss on the railway represented thousauds of pounds, and spelt ruin to the bulk of its shareholders.

The scene of interest then shifted to the sea coast. The Donald Wilson Royal Mail Line between Liverpool and New York in some strange manner became affected. Every ship that left either the American or the English port met with disaster, and never reached its destination, though, strange to say, not a .single life was lost. Of the magnificent fleet of eighty-seven steamers there were in two weeks but eighteen left, and these were in dock, since no money and no inducements whatever could persuade a crew to put to sea in ships which were accursed. It was at this time that the papers remarked upon the singular fact that these peculiar disasters affected only those businesses in which Sir ltushton Claremont was involved.

In a month Sir Rushton Clarcmont's name was on every lip. What was this mysterious power under whose influence he was rapidly drifting to wards ruin? As one by one the various manufactories and businesses wifh which lie was identified became involved in the general wreck, so bewildered and distracted shareholders sold out their interests in those affairs which still remained untouched, est interest so ruin ami disaster followed.

And as to Sir Rushton himself, wherever he went, whatever he did, j misery and ruin followed him. One iby one his horses died, his pet animals were destroyed, a blight fell on everything he loved. Did anyone speak to him, so would some catastrophe overtake that individual. His very house was .little more than a rrin. His s-ervants fled from him ter-ror-stricken; no one would approach him. Did he walk in the street, it was but the signal for everyone to flee out of his course. Diabolical was the vengeance of Michael Armitage. In two months Sir Rushton Claremont was a ruined and a marked man. No leper was so leared, no monster was so terrifying. Not the poorest beggar dare throw him a crust for fear of the vengeance which was sure to follow. IV. TRIUMPH AND THE DOWNFALL. And what of Gerald during this momentous period He, knowing the terrible secret, and yet unable to do anything to prevent the consummation of his uncle's horrible threat, was almost beside himself. He dared not tell Sir Rushton, neither could he speak to Vera on the subject. When as one occurrence followed another with frightful rapidity he saw in all its horror Michael's fell intention. One of his first acts was to remove Vera and Lady Claremont to what he thought was a place of safety, though the giim knowledge that nobody was safe from Michael's fiendish machinations maddened him. Lady Claremont was prostrate under the stress of that direful period, and her life was despaired of. Then Gerald set to work to find Michael, who since that night at the Hotel Cecil had disappeared without leaving trace behind him.

He had some thought of informing the police; but awesome as were ihe disasters wh.'o.h had occurred, he realised that his story would be legarded with incredulity. Besides, the mere fact that he knew something of the matter might place him in au awkward situation. No; he must seek out Michael Armitage hims?lf, and by every means in his power put a stop to his devilish work.

Nevertheless all his efforts were unsuccessful, and as the weeks went by his despair bordered upon distraction. Lady Claremont, overcome by the terror of all, died suddenly, and it seemed as if Michael himseif became aware of this fact since the baneful influence he controlled increased in its violence and hideousness.

It was in December, exactly two months since Michael Armitage had landed in England. Sir Rushton Claremont was practically a prisoner in his own house, where he lived like a rat on what food was left iv the place. Gerald, untiring in his efforts to find his uncle, had left Vera in good hands, and was prowling the streets of London.

It was nearly sundown when he found himself in the neighbourhood of the Strand. Keenly on the alert, his eyes searched every face. Of a sudden he was brought up with a great shock.

Crossing the road towards him was Michael Armitage himself!

The inventor did not see him, for his head was bowed and his eyes bent on the ground as if in deep thought. He directed his footsteps towards Charing Cross, walking with nervous, rapid strides.

At first Gerald was inclined to overtake him and speak to him, but on second thoughts he determined to follow and see where Michael kept his infernal invention. Turning down Parliament street, , Michael Arnutage made for Westminster Bridge, which he crossed, turning immediately down the narrow street to the left which runs parallel with the river. Darkness had already fallen, although the hour was early, and Gerald had great difficulty in keeping his uncle in sight. Half way along the street Michael stopped 'loud looked around. lie had arrived j at. one of the wharf-houses, the i'roiit !of which abutted on the street and I the back on the river. Gerald had, j with lightning-like rnpidifcy, crept in|to the shadow of a doorway adjacent. iHe watched Michael's movements intently. Thinking himself unobserved, the | inventor approached the door of the i wharf-house. There was the grating jof a key in the lock, the creak of a i door moving on rusty hinges, and j then Michael disappeared. ! CJerald. was upon the scene in a ; j moment. This, then, was where his ! ! uncle manufactured that frightful i i Force which he had used to so vile an I | end. The young man was chagrined Ito find the door fast bolted. What to ! do? How to get into that house? j How to overcome Michael and destroy | the Force machine? These were the . thoughts which chased themselves : through his brain. He must put them ! into action. JHe searched along the whole front jof the wharf-house, but could find Jno means of entrance that way. It J was evident that the building had \ long been in a state of neglect, for its windows were broken and covered with the dirt of months, if not years. By the side of the wharf-ho use a narrow passage led down to the wharf itself, but the way was barred by a tall iron gate. To scale this gate was no light matter, but Gerald accomplished it, and in a few minutes was standing on the wharf itself, with the dull, lapping river at his feet. Eagerly he looked over the whole frontage, and noted with joy a thin pencil of light streaming out from one of the upper casements. Searching diligently, he was gratified to find an iron piping running up the side of the building. If he could only climb up this and effect an entrance his task would be half accomplished. He found the matter easier than he expected. The pipe was big and strong, with plenty of holdfasts by which he could get from joint to joint. A few minutes' climbing, and he was level with the first floor, where on his left a landing door abutted. To leap from the pipe to the ledge was a feat of daring, but Gerald accomplished it safely. The swing doors of the landing gave to his pressure, and he was inside the j building. With deliberation and caution he ' now set to work to find his way up- : stairs to the room where he felt he ■ would be sure to find his uncle at his I infernal work. On his hands and knees he groped about, found a ladder which led him into the upper regions, and was becoming conscious of a strange humming sound closely adjacent, when with startling suddenness a bright light was flashed into his eyes, and for the moment blinded him. "Great heavens! Gerald!" It was the voice of Michael Armitage. Gerald sprang to his feet and dashed forward. A door has been opened at his very elbow, and there, standing in the centre of the threshold, was his uncle. Michael put out his hand to stop his nephew, but the latter eluded him and darted into the room. "Stand back!" he cried, "or yon are a dead man!" He drew his revolver as he spoke, and levelled it at Michael's head. The inventor paused, and looked j with blinking eyes upon Gerald. His lips were opening and shutting mechanically, but suddenly he pulled himself together, and a laugh escaped him. "Gerald! Gerald!" he cried. "What fool's game is this? What seek you here? Why do you threaten me with that toy?" "Threaten you!" cried Gerald, his agitation so great that the words fell jerkily from his lips. "Threaten you! Great Heavens, are you not conscious what you are—wholesale murderer, devil incarnate?" Michael's brow contracted into the merest shadow of a frown. "Come, Gerald," he said, and his voice was calm and steady, "leave these heroics and explain how you got here. Do you know where you are? You are in the presence of the Great Force. You are at the spot whence issues in all its greatness, ail its invulnerability, all its terror, the vengeance of Michael Armitage! But come, Gerald, drop that firearm, it can do me no harm; besides, you are my nephew—l love you!" "Why then," asked Gerald, "have you done what you have? Think of it, man. The ruin, the horror of it all. Is not your greed for revenge assuaged? Have you not done enough?" The other beat himself on the breast in impatience and turned from his nephew. "Look around you, Gerald. Do you see nothing; can you hear nothing?" Gerald glanced rapidly round the room. It was filled with strange machinery, all working with mathematical precision and almost noiseless. The walls .were covered "with ! little black boxes from which darted ! the blue lambent light of electrical j sparks. Huge drums, running the length of the apartment, were revolving with lightning-like rapidity. On one side —that over-looking the river—a huge hole had been made in the wall, and through this hole there protruded a long telescope-like cylinder, the inside end being connected with the machinery on the floor. He lowered his revolver, and the calm voice of Michael fell upon hia ear. "Ah! it has been magnificent, all this. Magnificent ! Magnificent! Come, Gerald, come, see what is the power of Michael Armitage!" He went over to the cylinder, and Gerald followed him mechanically. The back of the huge tube was covered with an opaque gljj^s. Michael touched a spring, and instantly the glass was suffused with light. Underneath the glass was a large square board covered with a sheet, upon which was traced minute square and queer hieroglyphics. Little knobs connected to wires dotted the sheet in every direction. Gerald looked on agape. He saw Michael move one of the knobs. Instantly a vision appeared on the illuminated glass. It was that of a street, People were walking about and vehicles were careeringl on

their different ways. He recognised it. It was Broadway, New York, with the sun shining full upon it. "Brought to me! Brought to mcl" murmured Michael, enthusiastically. He moved another knob, and, another vision appeared, another and yet an- ' other. Gerald gazed spell-bound. j "Little do they know who gazes j upon them from all this distance," said Michael. "Little do those innocents know that their lives are in my [ hand. Only to launch my Force, to j send it swiftly on its career, and they are doomed." He seemed to have forgotten Gcr- [ aid's presence, for he began to mutter u> himself in incoherent tones. He fumbled with the machinery, the vibrations of which increased in intensity as lover alter lever was pulled over. Then his voice again, harsh and I grating. | "Oh! it has been a glorious yen- ' gcance, Eushton Claremont! A glorious vengeance! But wait for the I time when I shall bring- you to me, i and gloat to you of "what I nave done. ! Let me see you ouce again, liushton j Claremont. Let me look once more j on your hellish face." The glass on the cylinder became clouded, and then bright once again. Gerald saw the image of the interior of a room. He recognised it. It was the drawing-room of Hawkesley House, Sir liushton's residence. The room was empty, and Michael's voice was heard again. "Where are you? Where are you, Rushton Claremont ? Oh ! Don't think you can escape me." Room after room flashed on the glass and all deserted, until at length one appeared in which moved two figures. Gerald staggered back, a hoarse cry on his lips. The fig-ures were those of Sir Eushton and his beloved Vera. They were locked in each other's arms—father and daughter. Sir Rushton, white and shrivelled, and with great lines on his face. Vera was weeping bitterly as she clung- to her parent. A growl as from a great dog escaped the lips of Michael Armitage. "She is there, the daughter, the daughter—whom the fool Gerald has protected. I swore it. I swore that I would kill all who came near him! It is his daughter, she shall die in his arms. I, Michael Armitage, can do it. It will be sublime; it will be the one drop of bitterness which will flow to the top of his cup of misery. See her die, Rushtori Claremont, see her die, now! now!" He leaned over to the huge lever on his left —his nodding head and quivering hands bespeaking his agitation and excitement. He was oblivious of Gerald's presence, and for the moment Gerald felt too paralysed to do anything. Then the awful truth burst yupon him and seemed to crush him. Michael Armitage was about to kill his beloved Vera. He pulled himself together with a tremendous effort, and with a cry flung himself upon the inventor, before the latter had time to pull the lever. They fell to the floor with a crash. Maddened at the diabolical intention of Michael, Gerald seemed to be given superhuman strength. With all his might he beat at the man beneath him. He heeded not the cries of agony which escaped his uncle, as with remorseless energy the heavy butt of his revolver beat him into insensibility. Gerald felt that he was mad. The insensible body of Michael lay at his feet, and then the young man fell to the great cylinder with a huge bar of iron which he found. To smash that infernal instrument was his great and almost maniacal desire. He rained blows upon it and beat it out of semblance of shape. He attacked the machinery in every direction, crushing and splintering everything which stood in his way. The huge revolving wheels rolled riotously over the flooring. He smashed into the big case from which the electric sparks played luridly, and in the midst of his delirium of destruction there came a deafening burst of sound; he was carried from his feet and thrown violently against the wall. A huge sheet of flame suffused the whole apartment; the wall cracked and split, and he was hurled out into the air. Down with a sickening plunge. A douche of icy cold water and Gerald realised he had fallen into the river. With the maddened instinct which comes to all in jeopardy of life, '.he struck out. He could see on his right a huge glare of light, wliich seirt lambent tongues of flame far out across the sluggish waters. His head struck something. It was the side of a barge. He gripped it with tenacious fingers, drew himself up into safety, reeled forward, and fell with his face on the narrow deck, even as light and sound went from him. In the after days Gerald was wont to look upon that terrible two months when Michael Armitage was wreaking his awful vengeance as part of a hideous nightmare. He could scarcely reason out how he saved Vera from a horrible death. Recovering from his swoon he had raced like a madman to Hawkesley House, had effected an entrance—how he could not remember —and had found Vera, hysterical and terror-stricken, with Sir Rushton Claremont lying dead at her feet.

Such was the vengeance of Michael Armitage. When Gerald took Vera to America and made her his wife, it was to devote his life to endeavouring to assist her to live down and forget that short epoch in their lives which was fraught with so many bitter memories. And time is the healer of all pains, for the years that pass bring with them full measures of balm. [COPYRIGHT.] NEXT WEEK, PAMELA'S MISTAKES. (By BEATEICE HERON-MAXWELL.