A FATAL DOSE.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVII, Issue 262, 9 November 1906, Page 6

A FATAL DOSE.

By FRED M. WHITE, Author of "The Corner House," "Craven Fortune,"etc.

CHAPTER IX. THE SYREN SPEAKS. Not without a certain feeling of shame and self-reproach, Cleave turned away from his companion and mingled with the other guests. He had crossed the rubicon now, or better or worse the decision was made. Not a little either was he smarting under the cold contempt of Lena's manner. He would have liked to argue it out with himself that a little more kindness and feeling on her part would have produced a different result, but inwardly he knew that he was bound to act as he had done. As he passed presently along in the direction of the refreshment room, he saw that Eleanor Marsh had tried to get hold of Hardy, with Avhom she was in earnest conversation. There was no woman could be more brilliantly attractive when she chose, and Hardy was evidently enjoying her society. Cleave did not disdain to stand behind a palm and listen. •' But of course you will," the woman was saying. " Everybody does. I used to laugh at that kind of thing myself till 1 had my first interview with Fiona Dear. Really, she is most marvedous. I heard it on excellent authority the other day that the late Japanese Alliance was the direct outcome of an interview between a prominent statesman and the wonderful woman who has this gift of looking into the future. Positively, Mr. Hardy, you ought not to miss a chance like this. I know that you would not dream of calling at her place in Regent-street. Seeing that she is down here, you might look in on her tonight, without the slightest loss of dignity."

"Upon my word, I think I will." Hardy laughed. "Of course it is the most utter nonsense, I know, and if I had my way I'd have all these people rigidly prosecuted. Still, it is good for us all to be frivolous at' times, so I will consult this Oracle of yours."

"1 have another favour to a-sk." Eleanor smiled; "that is. you will tell mc exactly what the Oracle says. Unless I know beforehand, there will be nothing to gratify my natural curiosity.'' (. ieavo stopped to hear no more, though he snuled to himself a i he saw how beautifully this clever man was playing into the hands of the brilliant adventuress. He passed on to tbe refreshment room, telling himself that his

nerves needed something in the way of a stimulant to fortify him for the dillicult and dangerous task that lay before him. When he emerged a little later, it was to find that the great house was literally thionged with guests, who had come from far and near to take part in tbe great function. Cleave pushed his way unconcernedly through the glittering throng, many of whom he had known intimately enough in the days of his prosperity. It mattered little or nothing to him whether he was recognised or not. his duty lay plain before him. and be meant to carry it out to tbe last word.

It was somewhat difficult to find Eicanor Marsh, tint he came upon her presently outside in tho grounds where most of the quests had drifted by this time. It was a perfect August night — soft and subdued, and full ot stars. Here and there picturesque groups were picked out by tbe poiuts o( electric thine, with which most of the forest trees were outlined. Here, in the centre of a laughing throng, was Eleanor Marsh. She gave (!<',_ \-p a quick nign.il as he passed, and he fell back in the shadow of a group of azaleas. A honirnt later the woman joined him: nU her gaiety and abandon of manner had disappeared; she was quick, sharp, and eager now. "Well, - ' she said breathlessly; "you have been successful. I saw you talking to Miss Cttpy just now By the way in which she carried herself, I judged that the uno-rpcct.cd meeting did not rouse her enthusiasm." "Of course, --he is very much altered," (leave said sourly. "Contact with the world has changed her from an innocent child to a self-posse .sed woman. By some fine instinct, she divined the fact that my feelings were not exactly friendly—indeed. I had to speak to the. point." "Which means you alluded .to the letters, T suppose?" "OTi. yes—the letters were a -Treat card. They brought her ladyship to her knees at once. You are a wonderful judge of your own sex. As far as I am concerned, 1 should have expected the girl to burst into tears and summon Hardy to her side and tell him everything, after which he would he expected to kick mc promptly off the premises. .Mind you. that was her im pnl.e ripbl enough. But in reality she did nothing of the kind. She hesitated ard '.v.. lost. The upshot of the whole thi.tr v;... that she agreed to my terms, and is going to meet mc at the appointed time to receive those previous documents. 1 hope you are satisfied." "Splendid," Eleanor cried. "Could not have beer, better. And as 1 told you, the girl has acted exactly as I said she would. You were very particular as to the lime. I suppose?" "Oh, very. And I don't think you need worry about that. Women are not noted for punctuality as a rule, but this is a case where the lady will turn up to the moment."

Eleanor nodded. Cleave could see that her eyes were shining like stars.

"You are positively excited," he said. "I have never seen you so moved before. Anyone would suppose that the

"The danger is very close," the woman whispered. "You have no notion how dose it is. I have the whole world iv my grasp. I may wake up to-mor-row and find myself in the position to gratify my dearest ambitions. And, on tbe other hand, I may wake up to-mor-row and find myself within prison walls. It is all on the knees of the gods. If you will come this way I will show you what 1 mean. Only walk softly, and leave that cigarette behind you, for tho point of flame may attract attention."

With a thrill of curiosity Cleave followed on the long path which terminated presently in a public roadway across the park. There, in the middle of the road, stood two men, obviously of the lower class, who seemed to be waiting and watching for something. It was only for a moment that Eleanor stood there; then she drew her companion back into the seclusion of the grounds again. "What does the mystery mean?" Cleave asked. "Those men are after mc," the woman said, in the same passionate voice. "It is a debt I have incurred and cannot pay—a debt that has an element of

fr.a-ud about it. I—l swear I had forgotten them. Altogether, it comes to nearly, a thousand pounds, which practically equals every farthing I have in the world. " Dangerous as the situation is, 1 dare not part with that money. My one security is that I am dealing with business people, and if I can give them a positive assurance of payment by a certain date, they will take no steps in tbe matter. If I- can assure them that I am going to marry one of the richest men in England, they will abandon their threatening attitude and grovel at my feet."

"How can you give this assurance?" Cleave asked.

"That is easy enough," Eleanor said ! coolly. "If 1 ca n keep out of the way !of those men for four-and-twenty hours, lam safe. Critical as t._o danger appears to be now, by the end of that time Lena Grey's engagement to Philip Hardy j will be at an end, and a few hours later ,he will be pledged to mc. There are diamonds in the Hardy family, family diamonds, almost beyond price, if necessary, I would not scrupie to obtain possession of some of those, and thus free myself from some of the most pressing of my liabilities. Everything deI pend. upon the next hour, and the way in which you play your part in the con- | spiracy." Remember, that if I fail, you j fail also. If I lose, you are ruined as I hopelessly as myself. You will have to j pawn your fine wardrobe again, and face the world once more with nothing in your pocket. And one thing more " The speaker broke off abruptly as the big clock over the stables gave the halfhour after ten.

"You must go at once," she cried. "I had no idea it was so late. If you go down the shrubbery path that I showed you this morning you will find yourself presently at the bottom of the cypress walk which leads directly to the way to the private station. In a few minutes from now Fiona Dear will be hear, and you must meet her as arranged. I almost think I can hear the noise of the train approaching. Oh, don't wait for any more, but get away at once."'

Without another word Cleave, turned on his heel and took tho path indicated by his companion. He had half decided it to bo necessary to assume something in the way of an overcoat, but. after all. in the palpable guise of a guest, his accosting of the stranger would arouse less suspicion.

H<i had barely reached the foot of the cypress walk wiien he heard the train pul! up at the station. The engine only stopped for a moment, and then a tall, slim figure in a motor veil and long cloak stepped into the roadway, carrying a bag in her hand. With a subservient, air and manner, Cleave approached the solitary figure, but not until she was well within the walk and in tho thick shadow of the trees. ''I am sure, I beg your pardon," he said, ''and I hope you will pardon this liberty. It does not matter in the least who I am, but it is sufficient to say that I am one of the Duke's prnests. * If 1 have the plea-sure of speaking to Miss Fiona Dear "' 'That is my name," the stranger replied. "But it is not usual for mc to be accosted in this way " "I am perfectly well aware of that," Cleave said eagerly, "but 1 happen to know something about you wnich impels mc to ask a favour at your hand?. I hnv: no doubt that from time to time many curious requests are made o. you, requests which " Despite bis coolness. Cleave stopped and stammered as he saw another figure come swiftly through an opening in Ilie hedge. A second later and a pair of strong, lithe arms were thrown from behind round the ne>ck of the and a white hindkerchief, strong with some pungent odour was thrust into her mouth. The victim struggled feebly for a second or two, then collapsed without a sound uneonseiouß on the road. "Sγ fir, so prood," Eleanor Marsh said breathlessly. i flntler mysi-it that it was accomplished quite neatly. \*ow don't stand there staring at mc like that. Lift her up. and T will help you to plnc-e her where there is no chance of her being discovered. Bring the hig along—l shall wai-t that. There is no time to lose." CHAPTER X. JKAUIUi'Y. Cleave waited to hear further what Eleanor had to 5-ay. With an imperious gesture she signified him to take the unconscious body by the shoulders, while she, herself, raised the feet. It, was an exciting moment altogether, hut all the same, Cleave did not fail to note and admire the strength of his companion. "Which way?" he whispered. '"'We must not go along here too far. or -we shall hnvp somebody to spy on our movements.' , "We are going- a very Tittle distance," the woman panted. "I have thought this all out. quite carefully, and there is no danger at a 11 .,. They cane at Impth to a dark hollow leading through the thick cypress hedge, and that, way turned at the end of the path into a side walk, terminating presently in what looked like an old summer house. "Lay her down here," Eleanor said. "She will take no harm, and it is very long odds against her being discovered, at any rate, before morning. But we need not worry about that." "Aren't you going to gag or bind her?" Cleave asked. "There is no necessity to do anything of the kind. The drug I have adminis^ tered will throw her into a deep slwo for some hours to come, so that there is no ehanco of failing in that direction. Now take this bag, and go and place it in the particular alcove where Fiona Dear is poing to carry out her experiments. I daresay it has Pawned upon your intelligence by this time that I am going to play the part of Fiona Dear. It is much move easily managed than you think for, seeing that she always sits in darkness, and I have merely to assume a mask and cloak which are in that bag. Now go along, and keep fairly handy in ease I want you." A few minutes later nnd Eleanor Marsh was mingling with the crowd again just as if nothing had happened. She swept along, apparently with no object in view, though she was keeping a keen eye open for Philip Hardy. She Tound him presently, and in her tjwii clever way contrived to detach him from the group of people with whom he was talking. "I haye x had a bit of an adventure," she said. "As I was coming up the rose garden just now I am quite certain that I came in contact with Fiona Dear. Rather strange, considering we were

mer house.

talking about it just now, isn't it? I hope you are not going to forget your promise, Mr Hardy."

Hardy looked vaguely at the speaker; apparently his mind was far away. Eleanor smiled to herself, though she could have put his thoughts into words for him if she liked.

"What promise?" he asked. "You may call mc stupid if you like, but I have no recollection of any promise in connection with the adventuress whom you mention."

"You were going to consult her as to your future, don't you recollect? You did not mind so loug as it was a pastime and part of the evening's entertainment."

"That's right enough," Hardy admitted. "I remember all about it now. On the whole, 1 think I had better go and get it done with, only don't" tell anybody else of my folly." Eleanor Marsh slipped away into the grounds, and made directly for the alcove where the'seance was to take place. It was the work of a moment to slip into the cloak and mask, which she extracted from the bag recently carried by the unlucky woman whom she was impersonating. It was, perhaps, a wild scheme which Eleanor had thought out, but there was more than a possible chance that it might be successful. The woman had carefully studied- her victim; she had a knowledge of his temperament which would have astonished him. The man was brilliant and clever, cautious and painstaking, as a rule, qualities which make for success in the world of politics; but at the same time, Hardy had sprung from a race of m n and women who had given more than one dreamer to the world, and he himselr, unknown to his friends, had from time to time indulged in poetry. This was the side of his nature -which he had carefully concealed from the public, but he had not succeeded in blinding the sharp eyes of Eleanor Marsh.

She sat in the darkness there planning out carefully the main lines of the coming interview. She was a little annoyed presently to find her privacy intruded upon by two frivolous young creatures who had probably b.en the first to heax of the arrival of the thought-reader. All +his took time, and at the present moment delays were dangerous. With a sigh of relief Eleanor could just make out the figure of her intended victim in the doorway. He came in coolly and cynically enough; he explained his errand, taking care to point out that from his point of view the whole affair was little better than clever fooling.

"You think so,' Eleanor said, in a deep voice. She felt capable of acting her part to perfection. "There have bean others like .yourself who came to scoff, and w-nt away in a chastened mood. 1 will ?ay nothing to you about the stars, b"cau_e you have come here to be practical, Mr. Hardy."

"So you know my name," Hardy smiled. " "Still. I suppose there is nothing wonderful in that. Perhaps you can tell mc why I came here—what motive I had?"

"Yes, I can tell you that. You profess to come out of idle curiosity, but that is not the truth. You are puzzled and annoyed because you cannot understand. You would not have come to mc in London, because you would have deemed that to be beneath your dignity. What is it that you desire to know? Do you hope to become as cel.brated a poet as you would be as a statesman?"

Hardy started slightly. Despite his sound common-sense, he was feeling jubt n little impressed.

"What have I to do with poetry?" he demanded.

"You write it. You are fond of it, and yet you conceal the fact from your friends because you think that your weakness is likely to stand in the way of your political career. So much ashamed arc you of this gift that you have not even mentioned it to the girl you are going to marry. Believe mc, it does not promise well for domestic happiness for a man to start with these secrets."

"There may ho secrets on both sides," Hardy said.

"Of course, there are. The man t?lls the woman he. has never loved before, the woman swears that no amorous thought of hers lias ever strayed in another direction. It flatters a man's vanity to think that, and yet how rarely is he justified in hugging this delusion to his breast. Take your own case for cxumplc."

"There is no occasion." Hardy said stiffly. "1 am perfectly satisfied to know that in my case—but I am talking nonsense."

"And yet you infer that I am talking nonsense also," Eleanor said boldly. "Now you eamo here to scoff at my methods; you came here to expose a cheat if you could: therefore. T am going to challenge you. Now, suppose I tell you that not only has the fortunate young lady loved before, but that passionate love letters have passed between her and a man who need not be named. Suppose I go further and say that the individual I allude to is under this roof at the present moment."

Eleanor dropped her voice to a thrilling whisper. She was acting the part of tho sorceress to perfection. Hardy wa touched move deeply than he would hay. cared to own. The extraordinary ruag netism of this woman was fascinating him: her low voice, her suggestion of ah" solute truth, the dimness of the alcove everything conspired to impress the artis tic temperament. And now it flashed across Hardy's mind how he had seen Lena not. so long ago in earnest conversation with a man whose iaee was so familiar yet strange to him. "1 ought not to be discussing this matter with you, - ' he said, "it is my positive duty to decline any further argument, and yet "

Hardy sighed impatiently woman laughed.

"And yet you are a man, with all a man's weaknesses and vanities." she said. "I have aroused your jealousy; 1 have compelled" you to listen to mc with respectful attention. Shall I say more, or are you satisfied to believe that the powers 1 claim are genuine! '"You have .aid too much, or not enough,'' Hardy replied. "I am sorry now that I came near you. It was all .done merely to oblige a lady friend of mine who is foolish enough to'regard this kind of thing as a science. There is one thing I admire about you, and that is your audacity." "Then I am to go no further?" Eleanor asked. "You would not like mc, for instance, to tell you of the feelings and emotions aroused in the heart of a young girl when the old lover comes on the scenes again, and she finds herself between tlie old and the new, not knowing wr ich way t-o turn. It is a fine thing to be the affianced wife of a rich man like Philip Hardy—a man who some day may held one of the highest offices under the British Crown. But every rose has its thorns, and Philip Hardy is not free of his. He is immaculate, and looks tor the sr.mo quality in the woman he loves. She knows that she could not go to him and tell him of her childish indiscretionshe dare not. And then, like a woman, she grasps at straws. She will go to

this man, and aek him to be silent for I her sake; she will ask him also for those letters, and if he is a man at all he will yk'id up possession of those letters, and the past becomes merely an episode. 1 see it all in my mind's eye clearly. 1 see her walking down a path leading to the rose garden; I see the man standing there with the letters in his hand. in half-an-hour from now, exactly half-an-hour "

The speaker broke off abruptly; the spirit of prophesy seemed to have fallen from: her shoulders, and sue laughed in a quiet sort of way that irritated Hardy. 'I am telling you too much," she said. "I meant to punish you for your want of faith in mc. But see, there are others clamouring outside—disciples of mine, who are anxious to hear all about their future. If you want to see mc again, come to my rooms in Regentstreet. Now go, and if you find there is nothing in what I s ay, then you will have the satisfaction of knowing that I was no more than the adventuress you took mc foi." (To be continued daily.)