THE PEER AND THE WOMEN

Auckland Star, Volume XXXIX, Issue 183, 1 August 1908, Page 13

THE PEER AND THE WOMEN

BY E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM Author of "A Monk of Cruta," etc

CHAPTER XXIX. A DRAMA OF DEATH. "Let mo. give you one more chance, my lord,'' said Neillson, speaking rapidly, hut in a low, tremulous tone. "Let mc Bwear to you here, on the threshold of death, by every hope I have of another world, that it will be better for you if you lft mc carry my secret with mc untold into the grave which awaits us. You will die a happier man—and so slian I." '"You have pnssrvl your word, Neillson. and I claim it." was the firm, un- - I hesitating answer. "Speak. I am wait3 . ' ing, and the time is short." ° c He began at once. His voice was weak end broken with agitation, but in Lord , a ? Akeston"n ears it drowned the wild, onward rush and backward motion of the angry waves and rang out above the a( . J ecrunch of the grinding pebbles and the 'ed weird erics of the wheeling sea-gulls. j e j : He heard nothing but that faltering for ,j voice, pouring out an ill-told, disconnect" at V. Ed story of which ho fast .gathered up j I the threads. It seemed in" those few [j Biinutfs. which he looked upon as his I last on earth, almost as though his intelligence and perceptions were quickened and intensified—an though everything " which he was told, every fact anrl incia * : dpnt. stood out in bolder colours, and n * lis mind was gifted with added powers of reception and comprehension. And .j 3 this is the story to which he listened. ' put together into a connected whole. ■» without the. painful pauses that were ■ ci; caused by Neillson's exhausted condition: —■ "I was engaged by Mr. Brundell to be j. yrrnr father's confidential servant just . before he started for a Continental tour. ,* He was then only twenty-one years old. _ but he was an orphan, as your lordship knows, and his own master. y S "We travelled about in a leisurely mannrr, staying longest in Paris and at, a village up among the Swiss mountains. s . Except for Paris, your father seemed to of fa;r(? VP O' little for cities, and we spent ? 3 most of our time in out-of-the-way places. Chance led us to a small water-ing-place on the French coast, within a short distance oE Nice. My master liked the place, and we took up our quarters for some time at the hotel. "It was here, at the casino, that your father met the Count d'Augeville. The count was of good family, and had very pleasant manners. A slight acquaintance, begun in the most casual way, J grew into intimacy—the more's the pity! "Soon your father began to viaft at the count's villa. It was a nice, place, rifr'nt away from the town, and finely f-ituated close to thfc cliffs. The count was a widower, with two daughters. To sum him up at once, he was also a scoundrel and a gambler. "The daughters were twins, both beautiful and wonderfully alike. From the. moment of his introduction to them a change seemed to come over my masicr. During all the time I had been with hrm J. had scarcely' seen him speak to a woman, except whsn he had been obliged. Now he seemed bewitched. He always there, either riding or walking on the cliffs, or delving into the town with one of them. '"Cecile and Marie, were Vae'xr names. , They were botjli in love wijLh him. I am sure. Which he preferred I could not tell at that tame. When he sent bou- . quets and presents he generally sent to ■ both oi tnem, and he was with one as often as the o»ther. Of course there was a good deal of gossip about them in the town, but Miss- Cecile's name was genei--3 ally mentioned. Miss Marie had another : admirer, to -whom she was supposed to ; be engaged, and whom she afterwards > married. J ""While this was going on in the daytime my mastter was losing large sums > oi money—Dcaaig cheated out of them, in ' fact, every rnght by Count d'Augeville. Once I remember he had to go to Eng--1 land to raise the money for a debt owing to him. Then I ventured to remonstrate with him, and very nearly got dismissed. "'lt ■was (?ne night when we were at ] tho Villa d'Augeville. The count and my master had been playing cards all the eveninci and were sitting at a little I round tablo close to the window, which •was open. They had finished, when my master saw mc strolling about the garden, and called mc in. " 'NeiUscei,' he said, 1 wish you to listen to -wftiat I am going to say to the Count d'Augeville.' "The eotint looked up. startled. My master went on quite calmly. "■' 'You qoM mc your debtor for tonight's plaiy to the amount of twelve ■thousand feanre, I believe?' ""'That is the amount,' the count said. " "And yon have won during the last month about one, hundred and twenty thousand francs from me?' 'The enunt fro-vraed. 'I don't remora-ibf-r the tumount,' he said haughtily. 'Gentlemen son't talk about such things aftenvarSs.' ** The ' hundred and twenty thousand francs I have paid,' my master continued. Tiiis twelve thousand I will not pay.' ""'And. why not?' cried tlie count, springing; up. " TBecaaise the odd 3 are scarcely fair. In returja for the lesson which you have just grvssi mc, Count, permit mc to give you one. Gentlemen do not play poker "with masrked cards.' "As hjj spoke he snatched at the pack •which Teas lying between them on the table and passed them to mc. '" "Examine those cards, Neillson,' he said, cc>o4ly. 'You observe where each one is. marked at the right-hand corner ?' "I saw it at once, and told him so. Then.ie passed them on to two other ■ gentlemen, who had advanced from the other .end of the room. They both looked at tbiim and shrugged their shoulders. The fixct that they were marked cards was .^undeniable. "Toe count had been sitting still, pale aiid dazed. Even now he did not speak a ivurd. -jnd my master went on: — '" 'Cln these circumstances, Count, I will not remain aJiy longer under your roof. I have to inform you that your daughter Cecile was married to mc last "weei at the Protestant church at Nice. I aan sorry that. I have not a copy of the certificate with mc. but you will find ■the entry in thu book if you care to ge and look for it. 1 intend my wife to leave this houae with iae to-night.' "Suddenly we heard the sound of trailing draperies behind, and Marie swept up to the group, her face white with passion, and her eyes gleaming like fire da the moonlight!' "It i> false, mon psre!* she cried, iaTfias on her k&aca before Mm, *He 4

is base, perfidious, a traitor. Cecile is not married to him. If she leaves this house with him to-night she will go to her ruin. You will not let her go, father, wicked man that he is. He- put those cards on the table himself. I saw him do it.' "His daughter's words seemed to give the count fresh courage. He spran" to his f;-ct, shaking with anger. '" "Your nre a liar, Alceston!' he cried passionately. 'You shall give- mc satisfaction for this, and at once.' ".My master stood up quietly. " -I will not fight you,' he said, 'because, in the first place, you are my wile's father; and in the next, you are a common thief, unworthy to cross swords with an English nobleman.' '-llnw he did it I don't know, but somehow (.'mint d'Augeville hurled a winegkiss which hit my master on the forehead. I saw the blood streaming down his forehead, but he scarcely seemed to notice it. '""You rascal!' screamed the count. 'I am noble, too. atvl you shall light me!' "My master hesitated for a moment; then ho touched his forehead lightly. "After this." he said, '"I rescind my words. I am at your service when and whore you ploase.' "'Now; this moment!' cried the count. 'The moon is full, and it is as light ns day. M. d'Armande will be your second. Victor, you will stand by mc in this?" he said to the other man, whose name I have forgotten. "My uraster lifted the curtain and looked outside. It was, as the count had said, as light as day. " 'As you will,' he said carelessly. *}[. d'Armande. will you hfSnoAir me?' "M. Victor and Count d'Augeville whispered together for a moment or two; then the 'uitter came up to my master and 3J.. d'Armande. " "Monsieur the Count,' he said, 'has no duelling pistols at hand, but several rapiers. Has Lord Alceston any objection fro. fight with these weapons?' " "No-t the slightest.' my master answered. I saw a savage gleam of joy . flash irrto Count d'Augeville's face. No doubt he thought that because my mas- • ter was an Englishman he could not ■ fence. But I knew better, and I was glad of the choice. I knew that my mas- , ter was the most brilliant swordsman I , liad ever seen. One never knows what . may happen with pistols; but with swords I felt quite sure that my master must win. I "'They opened the windows and trooped down 'the broad, white steps en to the . lawn. My master was the last to go, and as he was quitting the room Marie ' laid hold of his arm and whispered some■thing , imploringly in his ear. Ho shook her ofl" and turned away without a word. I ■will never forget her face. If a look could have slain him he would have been a dead man. "It was a strange scenp on that little plot of grass —I don't think I ever saw a stranger one. The whole garden was heavy with the scent of flowers and creepers, mingled with the aromatic perfume from the plantation of pine trees which bordered the grounds and sloped } downwards to the sea. Everything was as light and as clear as day, only there was the deep midnight stillness and the starlit sky. The figures on the lawn, j with their drawn swords flashing coldly k in the moonlight, seemed like a party of devils breaking into Paradise. The 5 count's face was drawn and distorted _ with rage, and the other two seemed agij I tated, too. Only my master stood there , ! quite calm, with his shirt-sleeves rolled _ j up, leaning upon his sword and an odd ! r smile upon his lips. I asked ii he had j anything to say to mc. He only . laughed. " 'If we fence till daylight,' he said, . ' the count will never touch mc. I never . felt in better form.' t "I have seen one or two duels, but I never saw another one like that. The count went fit my master like a fury, . but ho never seemed to get anywhere _ near him. My lord stood his ground j quite carelessly, smiling all the time, as though he were a fencing-master indulgt ing a pupil with a little loose play, and I parrying every thrust with ridiculous j ease. The count tried him every way— j in carte, in tierce, in cercle, in octave, in ) seconde, but it was aJ! the same. My , lord was always his superior, and if he . had chosen he could have run the coimt through time after time with the simi plest repass; but he never once attemptj ed it. "They had been engaged nearly half j an hour before the end came, and very unexpected it was to all of us. The j . count was fencing very loosely, and my : lord, to vary it a Little, drew back, and with a powerful flangonet sent the count's sword a dozen ya.rds into the air. , The count somehow lost his balance and - fell forward. My lord being used to the most correct fencing, had brought his . sword into line again immediately; he . had concluded the flangonet, and the i count fell right upon it before he could draw back. [ "We heard the sword enter his body, . and almost at once it came out at his , back dripping with blood. My lord drew it back and leaned over the count, who fell heavily backwards without a single cry. " 'He has only himself to blame for : this.' my lord said, wiping his sword ■ on the grass and for the first time turn- • ing pale. 'I would have spared him if I could.' ; "1 never saw anyone die so quickly. : He just drew himself up once, clutched nt the air with his fingers, and then fell ! back dead. But the most awful part l was to come. When they were all gaui- ' ered around him a tall, white figure glided down from the steps and across the ■ grass toward tacm. My lord, death is : close upon us, but even now the memory 1 of that girl's face makes mc shudder more than the thought of those hungr_, ; waves below. It was awful. She threw herself down on the grass by his side and ! wound her arms around him. But she : knew directly that he wae dead. "They all fell back and stood silent. ' My lord for the first time appeared to ■ be agitated, and, dropping his sword, • covered his face with his hands. Sud- ; denly she turned round upon him, the moonlight flooding her beautiful golden I hair and ivory-marble face. i "'You!' she cried. 'You! My God, i was it you?' • "He moved out of the shade of the cypress tree under which he had been standing, and stretched out his arns im- ; nloringly to her. But she waved him away. : "''Out of my sight!' she cried wildly. ■'Away, away! Never come near mc again.' Never! Murderous coward, to i kill an old man I'

" 'Cecile,' he cried, 'it was his own I fault! Ask them if it was not. You , are my -wife, remember.' j "She laughed; an awful laugh it was. " 'Miiy God's curse rest for ever upon me,' she cried, 'if I smile into your face again, much more let you touch my fingers. Dare to come near mc and I will kill you. Away! Out of my sight, monster! Wretch! If men will not punish you in this world may God do so in the next!' Then she fell on her knees again "by her father's side, and my lord went 1 away." CHAPTER XXX. ; AMONG THE WAVES. Neillson's voice had been gradually growing fainter. Now it ceased alto- ; gether, and.Lord Alceston began to fear 1 that he would, faint. "Neillson,' , he said quickly, "I must * hear the rest. I know nothing yet about ' that night." "Give mc a minute—only a minute," he begged. Lord Alceston nodded, and -waited in silence. Darkness was gradually blotting out the awful view, sinking upon ' the sea, and half obscuring the cliffs. l>ne water was all around them, and sometimes a more than ordinarily turbulent wave broke over the rock, drenching them with spray. The end could not be ■ far off. "I must tell you the rest as quickly as I can," Neillson whispered hoarsely, glancing around with a shudder. "They advised my lord to fly, but he preferred to stand his trial, and was acquitted. . A fair account of the 6ght was given, j and general opinion was all in his favour. But Cecile d'Augeville, who was reaily his wife, shut herself up in a nun- ' nery. and refused to see him. My lord ' j returned to England, took up his commission in the army, and went to the ■war. On his return he had news, I do ' not know from where, of his wife's death. Then he married the Lady Mar- ' gavct Montand, your mother. "I can take one step from here to the night—of his murder. There was a great reception at Alceston House. The butler , sent for mc. A note had been left at tfre . door marked immediate. Was it worth . while sending it up to his lordship? I took it and glanced at it curiously i enough. My God, what a shock it gave mc! The handwriting was the hand- . writing of the dead, of Cecile d'Augeville. When I had recovered I took it upstairs, and after a word or two of preparation . I gave it to my lord. He bore it well, but it was an awful He went almost at once to his study, and sent for mc. "When I answered his bell he was leaning forward in his chair with his face ■ buried in his hands. He looked up, and the change in his face was awful; but I have no time to talk about that. Shall , I go on, my lord?" "Ay, go on!" he cried desperately. "You are making death easier. My poor , mother! God help her!" A great wave came dashing over them, ! and Neillson would have been swept . away but that Lord Alceston passed his right arm around him and held him fast. "The note I saw," he. panted, brejith- : i less from the shock of the water. "It is in my breast-pocket now. It will perish with mc. It is signed Cecile d'Augeville , Alceston. It said that this was her revenge for her father's murder, for so she ; termed his death. She had sent him a I forged certificate of death, had let him marry again, had waited until his son— ; you —had grown up, and now her tim had come. She had come to claim him as her lawful husband—to bring disgrace i and social ruin upon him. My lord, he i left his house that night and he went to her lodgings. You remember the case of foreign daggers in his cabinet. On the morrow she was found murdered, , with one of these in her heart" "Neillson, is this true? My God!' , "I feared that something might have happened, , ' Neillson continued. "By daybreak I was on my way to her lodgj ings. The murder had just been discovered. I saw the body, and I knew the dagger in a moment. For a while I was bewildered how to act, but 1 did my best. I hurried back to Grosvenor Square. The house was all silent. I went to the library. Oh, it was awful, awful!" he cried, wildly. "Go on, Neillson, go on!" "I rearranged the daggers. I left everything else in the room as it- was —for others to discover. Then I went softly to her ladyship's room. I" told j her." She was brave, but oh! thank God that I am going to die, that the memory of her agony can haunt mc no longer! There was but one course for | mc "to follow, anc< I did it. I alone | 1 knew that my master had left his house on that night when the reception was ! going on. The whole miserable story was plain to mc, but to no one else. It must have been perjury or flight, and we chose the latter, because my flight . would divert suspicion. You see now, mv lord, why I was hiding here—why j I feared to meet you!" ; Lord Alceston grasped his hand firmly. "You have been a faithful servant, ' Neillson," he said, in an unsteady tone. ! I "Your reward will come! May God j grant it you! Good-bye!" "Good-bye, my lord! Remember " ' A huge green mass of water loomed ' for a moment in the darkness and Mien * broke over their heads. Lord Alceston , ! would have clung to his companion to the end, but Neillson's last act was a self-denying one. He cast himself loose ' from the strong arms which encircled 5 1 him, and flung himself down into the r J water, and his young master, having ' both hands free, fell down on his face, 3 and clung to the slippery rock. The water dashed over lwm and receded. r Another wave was close at hand, but * the moment's respite was valuable. He stood up and tossed oft* his boots and as much of the remainder of his clothing as he could. Then, without wait- ■ ing for the breaking wave, he plunged J into the abyss of waters. ' There was a singing in his ears, a k dull buzzing in his head, and a dull, dreamy' sensation stealing over him, ' numbing his aching limbs and stopping 8 all pain. He bad battled with the wat--3 ers in vain, and at last, half fainting y with exhaustion, he had thrown up his r arms and given in. The sea was his > master. He had fought hard for life, v and he could fight no longer. And 1 this was death—this gradual dwindling c away of all sensations; this hazy dreaminess which was stealing fast over him. '• It was not so very terrible, after all 3 —not half so terrible as the struggle. l> He felt himself dashed against some " rock, but there was no pain. Probably ° some bone was broken, but he did not a feel it. He was too near death. Did everyone die as easily as this J he wont> dered. No part of him seemed awake save his brain; and even that was dule led. Memory was busy. Scenes of his n earliest boyhood came flashing before i- him one after another, but he found himn self contemplating them with all the languid interest of an outsider. Wag '. he in the world? Had he ever bee longed to it? Gradually all conscibuso ness of his own identity was fading away from him. He was quite contented—in> , i

I a vague, impersonal sort of way. He , had an idea that he was going to rest, j and he was very tired. The sooner the better. . . . Ah, a shock more violent than the others. It was coming now, then. Darkness —black darkness —a moment's sinking, and memory and sensation faded away without a struggle! (To be continued on Saturday).