...The Woman of the Derelict...

Auckland Star, Volume XXXV, Issue 38, 13 February 1904, Page 6 (Supplement)

...The Woman of the Derelict...

By GUY BOOTHBY (Author of "Dr. Nikola," "My Indian Queen,' , Etc., Etc.).

BEING THE STRANGE LOVE STORY OF JOHN ERAMWELL.

CHAPTER X. T cannot say that I passed a pleasant after iuv visit -to Hampton Court. ~i'-a- there was nomething going on h I did not understand I felt sure. a , .*! 1.1> 1 M<t tha-t 1 could not do so wor- • d mc beyond measure. 1 tumbled and t, --,-,-i in my bed hour after hour, vainirying to dir-cover a reason for it all. < t>? riling, ho\(e\er, _ .\ai quite certain. a'vi that was thai, until my mind was B'-t at re~i 1 would n'_>i avail myself of i i-njt-ii;r-'- proffered assistance, however •:' ~ir>. :i- he might appear of helpi. , i mc. Rt-fure 1 went any further I wanted to know what -the connection v.i.-. between himself nni the little v ivtch wiio had followed mc that evening. The ijxi-u-e lie had aiven mc for rowing him struck mc as ridiculous in The extreme and only added to my suspicion*. Was it possible -riat -his mvst- rious bu-ine-- could have anything to <:•> with the crime that had been per-Iμ-t rated on board the bri;z? But 1 put mis notion from mc absurd. In the first place it was not likely that a gentifnianly man like Armitage would be i ■>uconn-d in such a dastardly act. ami ii ht , liaJ how could he possibly have known that 1 had any knowledge of the affair at all? Again another argument. The proof* had been so carefully iii.-2rui.-ed, tTTe identity of the vessel so carefully concealed, that he must have knuwn thai he could laugh the idea of detection :o scorn. But in that case, and here the old argument came, up .lirain. what possible reason could he have tor putting his man on to shadow mc? At la-t, being quite unable to make head or tail of it. I gave up consideration of the matter for the time heing. and devoted myself to thinking over mv journey 10 Florence, whither .1 intended to proceed by the early train on the following morning* That I was running the ri-k of imperilling my own happiness by proceeding in search of the mysterious. Bartolomeo Canti T was f|uitr aware, for who could say what he niijrht reveal to ni'\ Prior to my discovering her on the brig in such dire misery. the life of -the £irl 1 loved was a sealed book to mc. For aught 1 knew io tar contrary she might already be married. The fact that she wore no ■wedding ring counted for nothing. It might have been stolen from her by -the murderers of the man we had found on deck. However, let it he for good or ill, L was resolved to carry the matter through. :>o to Florence I would go. By eight o'clock the kit bag I intended to take with mc was packed, the remainder of my luggage was handed over in the care of the manager, the knives were once move reposing in the safe. and I was hard at work upon my breakfast. All that remained afterwards was to settle my bill and then be off to the station. Having taken my ticket I obtained a supply of parsers aud books to amuse ane on the rtr-ad. and then sought a carriage. So fax sis I could judge it did Dot appear to- se a full train, and [ was clad to think that in all probability 1 should have my compartment to myself. 1 was destined to be disappointed, however, for. at the very la-st moment, just as the :rain was in the a.et of starting, a porter threw open the door, and a dapper little man. evidently French, immaculately dressed, and carrying a rug over his arm, jumped in. Before seating himself, he bowed politely and wished mc "good morning." I returned Ihe salutation, but with no good grace. He did not seem to notice it. but exchanging his: silk, hat for a cap. lit a cigar, and s-ettled himself down for Ihe journey. Between Charing Cross and Dover we conversed once or twice, but. seeing that my French is unintelligible, while his English was if anything worse,, we did not make very much headway. At length we reached Dover, and made our way on board the steamer. It was l>v no means a nice morning, and there VMS a. good sea running, which 1 gathered ■would prove disastrous for more than one of my fellow-passengers. I heard my companion from London uLter a'grnan as he looked at it. and well he might, for we had not been steaming a quarter r>i an hour before he was completely hors-de-cotnbat. Poor fellow, he prespiitfi' a pitiable spectacle, and alas, he was not the only one. They were lying about in all directions, and each sine looked as if they never expected to reach the French coast alive. Only once have I experienced sea-sickness, but that was sufficient to last mc a lifetime. At last I reached Paris, only to push on a jain in due course upon my advent uvou.s journey. Forty hours after leaving London found mc at my destination and very glad to be there, even though I did arrive there in the middle of the night, to fiud no cab available, and had stil more difficulty to discover my hotel. Of all the big cities of the world thai are deficient in cab accommodation. Florence is one of the worst. However. 1 managed at length to discover a more than usually intelligent native, who not only was acquainted with the caravanserai I wanted, but who v. as willing, for an extortionate sum, not only to conduct mc thither. but. most wonderful thing of all, to carry my bagT I engaged his services upon the spot, and we set off upon one of the loneliest peregrinations it has over been uiy ill fortune to .undertake. The rascal had not understood my meaning after all. and led mc up one street and down another until 1 was driven nearly desperate. The old saying that ''it is a lonjl lane that lias no turning" | Mas never truer than in my case, for j 3Ust when 1 was beginning to feel as if I could murder him, we turned into a broad thoroughfare. There was the hotel itself with the name above the duor. 1 took my bag, rewarded my guide with money and bad language, and then made my presence known to j the authorities at the hotel. 1 had! warned them by telegram of my coin- j ing, so that they were prepared to receive mc. 1 was shown to my room at! <in-e. turned into one of the hardest beds I have ever known, and slept like a top until nine o'clock. When I had breakfasted after the English fashion, I asked to see the man-1 aeer. and was shown to his office. He was a fat. greasy little fellow, with jet! Mark eyes and hair and an enormous i double chin. Fortunately for mc, he i spoke sufficient Enplish to be able toj •understand what I said, and he was

[At.t Rights Resxbvxd.]

good enough to assure mc that anything he could do to assist mc should bo done. His method of expressing himself is beyond mc. so that with your permission 1 will reduce it as far as poysibie to plain English. I informed him that 1 had travelled from London I in order to endeavour to discover the I whereabouts of a certain teacher of paintinc. whose name was Bartholomeo ; Canti, and I assured him of my gratij tude should he be able, to give mc any j information concerning him. But he J only shrugged his shoulders, spread out I his hands and vowed that gladly as he j would do so. it was not in his power. I gathered from what he said that, since he was not able to help mc, he would never know happiness again. Then an idea struck him. he started melo-dramatical-lv, placed one fat finger to his forehead, and going to the door called "Andrea." A few moments later a tall, gnunt individual made his appearance, bowed to mc, and then to his master, after which an animated conversation ensued. I thought it wa-s never going to cease ! But at last it did so. and the manager turned to mc, and informed mc that the illustrious Sisrnor Canti had a college for the art of painting in a street the name of which I cannot for the life of mc remember. I asked him to convey my thanks to Andrea, who thereupon bowed with the air of a Court Chamberlain and withdrew. , 1 then asked the manager whether he e»uld introduce mc to any Englishman or Italian, who could speak both languages sufficiently well to act as an interpreter. He pondered on the question, and at last, asked for time to think it ovpr. At the end of an hour he might be able to find mc just the man 1 wanted. went for a walk, and, when I returned, found that he had beeji successful. What the man's na-fionalifey was I don't think he could have told you, but he spoke both languages as to the manner born. I him on the spot, and we set off for the street to which Andrea had directed us. From i'ta appearance the Maestro would not seem to have been very successful, and I could not imagine Miss Alexandra working in eneh a place. After repeated hammerings upon the door, and just a* we were beginning to lose patience, a withered old crone opened it to us. so shrivelled and ugly was she that $he might very well have sat to the ainter for the Witch of Enilor. My interpreter entered into conversation wth her, to which she replied in a voice that was lie the sharpening of a s-aw. The upshot of it was that the man we were in search of had discovered that he was too old to continue work, had sold the school, and purchased a villa in the suburbs of the city. Having rewarded her we left, and went in search of a vehicle in which to drive to the place in question," which my guide informed mc was distant some three and a half miles. When we had secured a .Jehu, we set oft', and in due course reached the place in question, t was a pretty little spot of the usual tali-an type, shut in by cypresses, larches .ajid evergreen oak*, with, of course, the inevitable olive. We. entered, and this time made inquiries , of an elderly man-servant, who with many gesticulations informed us that the illustrious Signor Canti was at that moment taing the air in his garden. If we would be pleased to follow him, he would be honoured, to conduct us. We did so, and were led down a cypress bordered walk towards a small summer house, "before which an old man witht gray hair, and wearing a velvet coat, was hobbling up and down, supported by a .stick. As it soon appeared hfc did not hear us, being well nigh as deaf as a post. At length my interpreter was able to make him understand the reason of my intrusion upon his privacy. I took the photograph from my pocket, ,and handed it to the interpreter, -with the request that he would ask the old gentleman whether he could remember the original. Having produced his , spectacles he examined it carefully, and then, suddenly throwing up his hands, a≤ if in astonishment, he said something excitedly to my companion. That he had recognised her was evident from his excitement, which was only equalled by my own. Why didn't he speak? I was in a fever of impatience. I implored thhe interpreter to hurry him. An -animated conversation ensued. At last my man turned to mc. '"She was the best pupil he over had. he says, and her name, so far as I can understan dhim, was Angela Carbridge. but he says if you will accompany h?m into the house, he. will show you one of her pictures with her signature upon it. He has also a photograph of her, taken in Florence, two years ago.'-' '"Tell him that I will accompany him only too gladly," I hastened to" say. And as we made our way alon<* the patch towards the vails, I murmured to myself, over and over again, ''Angela Carbndge, Angela. Carbridge." I if Kc d the name beCter than Alexandra and it seemed to fit her soft beauty better than any other could do. we reached the house he i n . vited us to enter and conducted us to a r..om on the right, the walls of which were literally covered with painting Passing to one at the further end he. pointed to it with his stick and said something to my companion "He wishes to tell you that that is name upon it." I stepped forward and examined it In the left hand corner was the name, Angela. Carbridge." It was a beautiful picture, -and of just the t.ype I should have Imagined she would have painted M .ule 1 was examining it he wasearching in a handsomely carved old desk for what eventually proved to be an album containing the portraits of some hundreds of his pupils. At length tie found it. and hobbling across the mom placed it upon the table. B o poor was hi s eyesight that, when he lea at over it. his nose well nigh touched the page. At last he came upon what ac wanted, and signed to mc to look. aW? S - he_there COuld be no doubt Sere I *" But ' m ihis Photograph monV f 0 SlgD Of sadnsss-no premonat o f the sorrow that was to it but rl ,\ hSVe given aaythine for LulrLi .°T ld man would have been the S } aSkCd him for «• I told o?d -nt? rete \ to in <l uir e Aether the of W w ai l knew whafc had become J* her-but he only ghook his head

sadly, and then striking the table with his fist burst into a torrent of speech. When he had finished the interpreter began. "He can tell yon nothing, he says, but that she left him suddenly and without warning. He believes that she was the victim of treachery, and that old as he is. could he meet the man, be would kill him with his own hands." "Tell him that I will stake my life on ier purity," I cried, passionately. "He says that he believes in her, as much as the Signor does." "Has he any idea who the man •was?" He shook his head. "But the other pupils asserted that there Mas a man in the case." "Is there any pupil who said so liviug in Florence?" 1 asked. But it appeared that there was not. They hac drifted all over the w-orld. ■>ome we r e in Paris, some in Berlin, some in Vienna. Many had gone back to America, and some to England. On hearing this, you may be sure that I pricked up my ears, and inquired whether he would give mc the name and address of one of them. This took some time to find, but eventually he was successful, and I wrote it in my pockiet-book. "Miss Matheson. Belgrave Studios, Fulhaniroad.' , ] resolved to call upon Miss Matheson immediately 1 reached London. There was another in Lancashire, but the old gentleman did not seem quite certain whether she was studying under him at the time. I thanked the old gentleman most heartily for the assistance he had rendered mc. He begged that I would not do anything of the kind, that it was an honour for him that 1 should ask his assistance, particularly that I should have come such a long distance to do so. He then inquired whether I could give him any news of his old pupil. And when I informed him that she was in London, painting as well as ever, tears rose in : the old man's eyes and coursed down his cheeks. Before leaving he insisted that I should partake of his hospitality, and begging mc to excuse him, left the room, to return a few minutes later with a flask of wine, his old servant following him with glasses. After the dusty drive we had it was exceedingly refreshing. Then bidding him '•adieu" we proceeded to the cab. A.s we drove along I turned over in my mind what I had heard, and felt the angel rising again at the. thought of any imputation being brought against the woman I had learnt to love. On reaching the hotel I paid off the cabman and the. interpreter, rewarding the latter liberally for the. work he had done for mc. He received my praise and largesse with the air of a man conscious of having done his duty as no other could do it, and with a sweep of his hat bowed mc a farewell. The evening was an oppressive one, and not earing to remain indoors with nothing but my own thoughts to occupy mc, I put on my hat, lit a cigar, and determined to go for a stroll. It was a beautiful moonlight night, and the old city looked very picturesque in the mellow light, and having learnt by this time to pronounce the name of my hotel, and the street in which it was situated, I thought I might rely with some sort of security on reaching it once more. So I rambled on, as the fancy took mc, gradually passing from the more aristocratic quarter of the city into the poor part. At last I thought it was time to retrace my steps, only to discover that it was not quite so easy as I supposed. The first two or three turnings 'were comparatively easy, lor they were fresh in my memory, but after that I found myself hopelessly fogged, as much as a. new chum in Australia who gets bushed in a Mallee Scrub. I repeated the name of my hotel and the street in which it was situated to several passers-by, but they either did not understand mc or they were too sulky to reply, knowing that I was a foreigner. However. I believed I knew the direction in which the river flowed, and I determined to try for that and run along it until I came to a part with which I was acquainted. Trusting to my luck I set off again, but though it seemed as if I had walked miles, 1 was no nearer home than before. I paused again to consider, and as I did so the sound of stealthy steps behind mc caught my ear. I wheeled round, and. as I did so, a knife flashed in the moonlight, and a cord encircled my neck. 1 had had that game played on mc before, and knew exactly what to doBefore it could be pulled tight, my right foot was in the fellow's stoma eh, and the cord was in my hand. The other rushed nt mc with the knife, and he hadn't time to use it before I had him by the wrist from the inside- It broke like a piece of dry stick. A good lead off with the left under his jaw laid him upon his back, and gave mc time to examine his friend, who was being very sorry for himself on the ground. "A pretty pair you are," I observed. "It's no fault of yours that I am alive at this minute. Turn over, my friend with the stomach ache, and let mc have a look at your handsome countenance. Great Scott!" He was none oilier than my dapper friend, the man who had got into the railway carriage at Charing Cross, and who had been so seasick on the way to Calais. I then crossed to the other man, who was still unconscious. He, however, proved to be a stranger. "If you don't mind, my friend," I observed, "I'll take possession cf this pretty litle pen-knife of yours, and I'll go through your pockets to see if I can find any document bearing upon this case-" I did so, but all I could discover was one letter, which I placed in my pocket to be examined later. The other fellow had nothing on him in the way of correspondence, but what was better still he was beginning to revive. Lifting him to his feet by the scruff of his neck. I told him of the predicament in which I was placed in not being able to find my way back to jut hotel. I told him that I wished to get there as soon as possible, and that I desired him to take mc there. I showed him the knife I had taken from his friend, and informed him that I would use it on him without the least compunction if he I played mc any tricks. "As we are old fellow-travellers," I continued, "we will show our regard 'or each other by walking arm in arm. It will then be impossible for you to get away from mc." Seeing that it was useless for them to resist he accepted the inevitable, and in less than a quarter of an hour I was bidding him "good-night" on the doorstep, accompanied by some advice which may. or may not, have proved of service to him. (To be continued SVedoesdarg aext.J