The Chase of the Ruby

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIV, Issue 89, 15 April 1903, Page 3 (Supplement)

The Chase of the Ruby

By RICHARD' MARSH,

£,&« of v The Beetle: A Mystery," «In Frdl Cry," " Frivolities," etc

CHAPTER XIII.

VISITORS FOR MISS CASATA. Miss Casata had a razor in her handopen razor. She examined its edge. \i is very sharp. Oh, yes, how sharp! do cut; it will all be over. Will it be r with one cut—that is it—or shall I E to hack, and hack, and hack? That Lid not he agreeable." She stood in frort of a lookmg-glass, her own reflection. «I a m not bad-looking; no, lam not. , a certain attractiveness, which . ay own- To use the razor would be to Rainess. I shouk. be a horrible sight. Stodd he care? He would not see me. he did, he would laugh, I know. He Lwiat he calls a taste for the horrible, jfffould amuse him to behold me all Led with blood." % turned her attention to some arti■l ff ]jich were on the table. "Here is a revolver. The six barrels Ug all loaded. It would not need them 111 to blow out my brains, that is, If I kve any to blow. Here is a bottle of acid. What lies I had to a to get it; what tricks I had to play! lere is enough in this little bottle to HH the whole street. I have therefore, he keys of death close to my handinstant death. Three roads to jernal sleep, and 1 stand ao mucn in Id of rest. Yet I hesitate to use hem. It 1 3 Yerv inna y- Is, ** because I D going mad—l did not use to be into of purpose—l wonder V She handled, one after another, the toe objects—the razor, the revolver, [he little bottle—as if endeavouring to pke a selection. "I am too optimistic. There is my bolt —I always hope. It is an error. I lave always had in my life such evil forInetfaat, when happiness came, I should btt known that it would not endure— Hat the night would be blacker because lie sun shone once; that for me, heneeorward, it would be always night. I was fool; so happy I forgot, so I pay for it. fell, I will take my fate into my own ands and make an ending when I

ioose." i She had Miss Bewicke's dainty draw-sj-ioom to herself. An incongruous Meet she seemed in it/ she and her ruesome playthings. A sound appeared o have caught her ear. She put her jrfit hand behind her back; in it, the iiree assistants of. death. Moving to a joor which was on the opposite side ifthe room, turning the handle softly, fe passed half-way through it, then itood and listened. - ■ "Quite still yet. The noise did not Mine from there. There was a noise. II!"

The interjection was in response to a it-tat-tat on the knocker. The room is illuminated by a dozen electric ghts. Disconnecting one after the tier, she allowed but a single one to anain alight. Comparatively, the apartjent was in darkness. That's not Ellen's knock, nor Jane's; he is not already back again. Besides, le also does not knock like that. Who if

The knocking came again—slightly, lore insistently than before. If it is some bothering visitors, they rill have a short answer, I promise hem. When I do not open, why do

hey not take a hint and go ? I am not

■) be di3turl>ecl when I am making ariagements to remain undisturbed for I The knocking was repeated for a third ■me.

! "So they persist! Well, I will show em. They shall see." Cramming her trio of treasures into c pocket of her dress, where one would tare supposed them to be uncomfortable, Dot to say in dangerous juxtaposition, she strode to the door, intent on scarifying

pie presumptuous caller. When, howper, she perceived who stood without, Surprise for the moment made her ir(lesolute. /

!J The visitor was Mr Horace Burton, at i frhom Miss Casata stared, as if he were fj He very last person she had expected J to see—which, probably, as a matter of IH Jβ was. Mr Burton, on tb.3 other \ fond, bestowed on her his blandest smile. ] Heliauntered past her as if he had not |Pc slightest doubt in the world that S»6 would he regarded as a welcome

"Hollo, Lou, come to pay you a visit." His tone was light and airy, in striking contrast to her demeanour,- which tas'.about as tragic as it could be. . "Go! Do you hear me, go, before you I Ire sorry, and I am sorry too." Her Manner seemed to leave him quite Utanoved. %w,,my dear o-i-rl, don't look at me j % that; it isn't nice of you. I'm here j N a friend—a friend, you understand — :, to& something more than a friend." i'"You are no friend of mine; no, you #ver can he. I tell you again to go at Pee, or you will be sorry. I have warn•*f yon." all rislit; you'll change your pc iriien you hear what I have to say. pe come here to bring sunshine into

(our life, to ask for your forgiveness, o undo-the past. Be sensible, there's a M girl." d "Sensible? Oh, yes, I frill be sensible. ftPere's someone else here." M.'TTeg, that's Cox; he's a friend, of ; He's come in to see fair play, and j fitness my repentance. Come in, Cox." ' ft Thomas Cox entered, looking, if the \ ™g -were possible, less like a Thomas i kx than ever. "Cox, let me present f to Miss Casata, the only woman k ever loved. There have been times I J VI have been forced to dissemble my Hang it, Cox! you know how I've When'a man's in such a '°k as I've been in, he crushes down . he feels for a woman; he LjjU. there'vS any manhood in him. jdjNoesn't wart to drasr her down into \ w ditch in which he lies. But,-Cox, ; F« know how I have loved her all the I fiDle." ;' .Mr Burton turned away his head— iWether to hide a tear or a smile was un- ; wtain. He spoke with a degree pi I which, ' under the cireumI was remarkable. As Miss CasaI to think, her tone remained I bfexible. :^ ere lU ' is someone else." Plri , ? the Flyman: he's nothing |j if 4 n obody; he doesn't count. Let him 1 ms ■» <%ir, and he cap twnifc , in the

[All Eights Reserved.]

hall, Lou, till you and I come to an understanding." Mr Burton's suggestion was carried out. A chair was taken into the little hall, on which the Flyman placed himself. How long he remained on it, AA T hen their backs Avere turned, was another matter. The outer door was closed, as also, Miss Casata having-. entered, was the door into the draAving-room. But that Avas of no consequence; the Flyman's ears Avere keen. There was a curious glitter in the lady's eyes when she confronted her quondam lover. Noav and then she touched her lips with the tip of her tongue, as if they Avere dry. Her hands continually opened and shut, apparently of their OAvn volition. Occasionally, one of them found its way into her pocket, feeling if her treasures still were there. "Well, what is that you want? what neAV lie have you to tell?" "I Avan't to marry you; and, Lou, that's. no lie-" She Avas silent. One coidd see her bosson heaving up and doAvn. Then becoming conscious of the two men's scrutiny, she dreAV herself up straighter, as if resolute to keep herself in hand. "You are insolent!" "Insolent! Now, Lou, that's not nice of you- A man's not insolent avlio A\'ants to many the Avoman whom he loA r es, and Avho loves him." "I love you? IV She tapped her chest with her forefinger. "I love you so much that I avouH like to tear you to pieces! That is the sort of love 1 have for you- You —thing!" "Lou, you're letting your temper get the better of you. I knoAV I treated you badly." She laughed—a mirthless little laugh "I knoAV you've a right to feel annoy- j ed Avith me —" "Annoyed Avith you? Oh, no, not that!" "But I was forced to do what I did; I couldn't help myself-" "No doubt!" "But hoav it's different altogether. I see things in a new light. I know Avhat a mistake I've made. I've found out that I love you even more than I thought I did, and I've come to ask yoti to give me another chance —to forgive meYou're a Avoman, Lou, the best of Avomeu, and you've a forgiving heart; I know you have. Let me be your husband- Fil treat you better in the future; really now!" "What does all this mean?" "It means what I say. Doesn't your own heart tell you so?" "Oh, yes, it tells me. It tells me all sorts of things. It is a fool and a liar. It is of you I ask what does it all mean? It is you I want to tell me- Never mind what my heart says; Aye will leave my heart alone. I think we'd better." "Well, look here, I'll be candid. You're clear-sighted, whatever else you are, and level-headed; a cleverer woman I never met. I've told you so scores of times With a woman of your type, candour's the best policy, as you say. So here's the matter in a nutshell. I'm in a hole; you're in a hole. You help me out of the hole I'm in; I'll help you out of the hole you're in. That's what I've come to say to you to-night. You appreciate frankness; there you have it." "What is the hole you are in?" "My dear Lou, you knoAV quite well. I've never kept it secret from you; I've always made you my confidant. What I want is my uncle's ruby. You tell me where it is, and help me to lay my hand upon it, smd I'll marry you in the morning. And there's the proof that I mean what I say." He handed her an official-looking document, which purported to be an announcement of the fact that notice had been given to a certain registrar requiring him to perform the ceremony of marriage, by special license, between Horace Burton and Louise Casata. The lady, however, scarcely glanced at it- She kept her eyes fixed on the gentleman. 'Your uncle's ruby!" "That's it. As,you know, if I can get it in my possession, it mer-s fortune; if I can't it may mean misfortune of a bad type. As I'm not taking any chances, if you help me to lay my hand on it, I'll marry you in the morning." CHAPTER XIV. WHO KNOCKS? "What a liar you are!" "My dear Lou, all men are liars; somebody else said it bef6re you. But Where's the lie in this particular case? You've the proof in your hand that I mean business. Cox shall come with us and see it done. Won't you, Cox?" Mr Thomas Cox bowed. "Pleased to do anything to oblige a lady." "There you are! If you like, you needn't lose sight of me until we're married." 'You say you want your uncles ruby?" "Of course, yob know I'do." "I know that yem have it already. . "I wish I knew as much- If I had it, I shouldn't be here to-night. There's another piece of candour." "I saw hi_i*take it." * "Him? Who?" "The man outside whom you call the Flyman. I saAV him from a AvindoAV take it last night from Mr Holland." Mr Burton turned to Mr Cox. "There you are! There's one Avitness. Hoav many more might there have been? The Flyman's a fool to transact a delicate piece of business of that description in a public thoroughfare!" He returned to Miss Casata. "My dear Lou, you saw him try to take it, unfortunately without success." "He took everything Mr Holland had. "You appear to be well-informed upon the subject, though I don't know from Avhat quarter your information comes. Still, what you say is pretty accurate. He did take all he could. He even took a ruby. Here it is for you to look at. Unluckily, it's not my uncle's. Hence these tears." He handed her the ruby signet ring which the Flyman, when he turned Mr Holland face downwards on the pavement, found that gentleman had been lying on. , /„ , ; Miss Casata examined the ring wren every shoAV of interest. "This is the ruby he took from Mr y- •■ :■ !.'" ■;'>.- ''zM

"It is." . . -■"• "It is the only one which Mr Holland had." "So the Flyman said. He ought to knoAV. I belieA-e, on this occasion, he's no bar." . "And it's not your uncle's?" "It is not." "You are sure." "Dead." "Then, uoav I understand." "I Avish I did share your understanding-' . - ' ; "I understand Avhy she laughed when he had gone,- and Avhy she said, 'Poor Guy, hoAV disappointed he Avill be!" "What is it you're talking about? Would you condescend to explain?" "Yet —I do not understand. It was the box. Wait, in a second I will be back." She Avas back in less than a minute, bearing in her hand a small leathercovered box. On the lid Avas gummed a narrow strip of paper, on which was Avritten, in delicate characters, "The Burton Ruby." Mr Burton received it with a cry of recognition. "It's it; but the Avriting's strange." "It is her AA'riting." . "It's uncle's box —the one in Avhich he always kept the blessed thing. There's his crest; there's where I dropped it in the ink." He raised the lid.- "It's empty." "Last night Mr Holland took from it the ring Avhich Avas inside. I always imagined that in it she kept your uncle's ruby, which was Avhat I said to Mr Holland, as I told you I Avould do." "You're a nice girl, Lou!" - "And you're a nice man! Are you not a nice man?" Mr Cox interposed. "Now, don't let's have any quarrelhug. Stick to business- Time's precious. Go on with your story." The lady turned and rent him. "I will nbt go on Avith my story for you. What business of yours is my story, you dirty Jew?" Mr Burton smiled benignly. "Personalities! personalities! Don't call the man a Jew, my dear. Cox is no he's an anti-Semite. Continue your story for me, my love." Miss Casata complied Avith his request, although not in the most gracious manner. "Do not call' me your loA r e, or you will be sorrj r . As Mr Holland was taking the ring out of tlie box, she came in—" "And caught him at it? It must have been exciting. Wicked Guy!" "He wished to give it to her back again, but she said, 'Go and take it Avith you.' He took it and went. Then, Avhen he had gone she began to laugh. She kept on laughing —it was true laughter, not false—as if it was the best joke in the Avorld, and she said, 'Poor Guy, hoAV disappointed he will be!'" "You notice things." "I am not a fool." "Is it possible that anyone ever mistook you for one?" Mr Cox dug him Avith his elbow in the ribs by Avay of a hint to him to hold his tongue. Miss Casata went contemptuously on — "I perceive noAv that she laughed because she knew that he had not taken Avith him what he supposed; but Avhat I do not understand is where, then, is the ring? I know she kept it in this box." She examined minutely the one she held. Mr Cox put a question to Mr Burton. "For the last time, Burton, I suppose you're quite sure that it's not your uncle's ring? Nice we should look if it was afterwards discovered that you had made a mistake." "Don't be a silly ass!. Hoav many more times do you want to hear' me swear? I say, Cox, have you two legs, or four, and Avhich end of you are they? I might just as reasonably put such a question to you. I tell you I know." Miss Casata Avas still continuing her scrutiny. "It is not the ring; you are right. It is not the ring which she used to keep in the box. The stone in that, I think, was larger. It had a crest on it, I remember. And inside therewas a name engraved, 'George Burton.' She showed me it one day, and she said, 'I shall have to have this stone remounted. J cannot wear a man's name upon my finger, especially that man's name.' I remember veiy well. Oh, no, this is not the ring at all." Mr Burton turned in triumph to Mr Cox. "You hear? Now, who's right?" "You have seen the ring which you describe?" "It is certain. More than once. When Avas the last time? Not many days ago. It was in this box. She took it out of this box, she put it hack into the box, and the box she put into the little bottom drawer. I remember it very webWhen I heard of Mr Burton's will I thought of it at once." "Then, where is it now?" ■"She must have taken it out of the box and put it somewhere else." "But where? Think!" "How do I knoAV? Hoav can I think? She must have put it Avith some of her other jewels. They are everywhere—all over the place." Mr Cox and Mr Burton exchanged glances. The joiing gentleman took up the running. "In that case we'll look for it all over the place." "What do you mean?" "My dear Lou, I'm going to have that ruby, and before I leave these premises. So, now, you've got it." "You. -will not touch her tilings'?" "I've no desire to do anything so indelicate. You tell us Avhere it is, or give us a hint." "I have not the slightest notion." "Then Ave'll investigate for ourselves." "You shall not touch her things!" "Lou, you gave Guy Holland the tip. You helped him to commit a burglary. Wliy should you he squeamish now?" "That was different." "Of course, it Avas; he's not attached to you like I am. He doesn't Avorship the ground you stand upon. It isn't as though you were smitten with Miss Bewicke, because you're not; you've told me so a hundred times. She's going to play some pretty trick on her own account; that's the meaning of her taking out that ruby, which she knew you knew was in that box. And it's a thousand to nothing that she nieans to play it at my expense. If I can help it I don't mean to let her have the chance. Your fortune's bound with mine; we sink or SAvim together. If I don't get that ruby,, and to-night, it'll probably mean that I go under, and if I go you'll go too. My dear girl, you know you will. Come, be sensible: be something like your own dear self. Do only half for me what you did for Guy. Let me just have a look round for that wretched ruby. Ey your oAvn account it must be somewhere close at hand. I'm sure to get. it, and ;g?t it-11l £°Jt forget the part

you played. It'll not be my fault if I don't make you the best husband a woman ever had."

"I. Avas not here when Mr Holland came. I did not see what he did. I knew nothing.

"You need not see what we do. We have a'little something somewhere which will ma,ke you as unconscious of anything that may take place as you can possible desirel Then, if there is a bother, you will be able to assume, with perfect .propriety, , the role of injured victim. But I don't see that there need be trouble, if you keep still. I've as much-right to that ruby as anybody else. I'm going to assert that.right, that's all. Now, be a good, kind girl. Go into another room and have a nice little read. We're going to have a ruby hunt, Flyman!"

The Flyman appeared at the open door. At sight of him, Miss Casata broke into a storm of exclamations.

"Not him! He shall not come inhere. He killed Mr Holland! I saw him. Mr Holland's blood is on his hands! I will not' have that he come in here!" "My dearest girl, but that's absiird. He's the only one of the three who understands You don't want us to irretrievably ruin Miss Bewicke's property owing to our sheer want of skill? And for a nose for such a trifle as that ruby we are hunting for he has not his equal. Now, you go and have a nice little read."

He. moved forward with the possible intention of taking her by the arm and leading her from the room. If such was his design, it failed. As he advanced, she slipped past him. Rushing to the door which led into Miss Bewicke's bedroom, she placed herself in-front of it. She took out one of the three treasures which were in her pocket—the revolver, Before the three men had even dreamed that she might be in possession of such a weapon, it was pointed at their breads. Her tone when she spoke was as significant as her attitude.

"If one of you tries to come through this door, I will shoot him dead. Do not think this revolver is not loaded. I will show you."

She fired, the bullet penetrating the opposite wall. Mr Thomas Cox ducked as it passed. His companions instinctively shrank back. Her lips parted in a grim smile. Apparently this was her idea of humour.

"You see I am not so helpless as you perhaps supposed. lam not nervous, not at all. I am used to handle a revolver. I have won prizes for pistol shooting, oh, several times. There are five more barrels which are loaded. If I aim at you, I promise that I will not miss. You shall see."

The bearing of the trio, in its way, was comical, they were evidently so completely taken by surprise. Mr Thomas Cox, in particular, looked as if this were an expedition in which, under the circumstances, he wished he had not taken part. He said as much.

"Look here, Burton, this is more than I bargained for. Before we came I told you that I was not going to be mixed up with anything equivocal. I have my character to consider. You said your lady friend would listen to reason; if your lady friend won't listen to reason, then I'm sorry, but I'm off."

"Then you'll lose your money." . "In that case you'll have to smart for it. ,.

"That won't give you your money. It's a nice little lot."

"I know it's a nice little lot, and I can't afford to lose it; you know I can't afford to lose it. But there's something I can afford to lose still less, and that —that's my character. ,, "Your character! Why, if you only could manage to get rid of your character—l don't believe you yourself realise what an awful one it is—it'd be the best stroke of business you've done for many a day, my dear Cox!" Mr. Burton advanced as if to tap his friend, in an affable manner, on the shoulder. This brought him within a few feet of where Miss Casata was standing. Laying his left hand on Mr. Cox's shoulder,, with his right h/snatched away that gentleman's walking-stick, swung round and struck Miss Casata's outstretched wrist with such violence that the revolver was driven from her grasp, and sent flying across'the room. She gave a cry of pain. Her arm 1 ell limp at her side. The blow had been delivered with so much force that it was quite possible her wrist was broken.

"You devil!" "You wild cat!" returned the gentleman. "Now, Flyman, on to her!" The Flyman obeyed. The two gentlemen attacked the lady. Although she fought gamely, especially considering her injured wrist, she was no match for the pair They got her down upon the floor, still' struggling for all that she was WC "Now, Flyman, where's that stuff of y °<TnT getting it. She's a oner. She's bit me to the bone." With difficulty—he only had one hand disengaged-he evolved a tin canister from his jacket pocket. '•Bite her- to the bone! Let her have th Fronf the canister the Flyman manned to take a cloth-a cloth which was Saked with some peculiar-smelling Sd This he jammed against the lady's face'even cramming it between her kps. She writhed and twisted, then lay still. As the Flyman got up he examined thehand Wch she had marked with her te '4he""take3 a bit of doing. I shouldn't like to have to tackle her single-handed. Mr Bxzrtcm smiled. His clothes were a Uttlo rumpled. As he rose he arranged hi '4 C ce wife she'd make! What do you th Mr. ? Co X had occupied his time in pickinfup the revolver of which the lady had been relieved. He seemed genuinely congou know, Burton, I tell you again, I didnTcome here for this sort of .thing. Wouldn't have had this happen notnoTfor a good deal. I shouldn't be surmised if w? get into .trouble for this.? P «My dear Cox, we should have got into trouble anyhow. We well be hung for a sheep as a lamb. I'm going for the Sl "Hung! Don't talk about hanging. You make a cold shiver go down my back. .You haven't-killed her?" "Kill her? You innocent! She's the sort who take a deal of killing My good chap, when she comes to, she'll curse a little and go on generally; but she'll for- ' give me in the end. I know her; she's a dear!" L ■ . -. While the three men stood looking down at the unconscious woman, there came a knocking at the outer door. ,

(To be continued in Saturday's Supplement.)