The White Lie.

Auckland Star, Volume XLV, Issue 155, 1 July 1914, Page 10

The White Lie.

-4 Story of Love, Blackmail and Revenje.

By WTtLIAM _£ QtTETTX.

'Author of 'England's Peril.'' "Ker.elaXions uf the Hccret Service," '■ Uushed L~p" etc., etc. CHAPTER IX. IX THE XIOIIT. X.,t until several hours afterwards did Jc.ui i !■;;.in consciousness. W li.'ii slowly rilic opened her eyes nnd gazed wonderingly about the silent room, slip found Herself lyfiig in .a heap upon tin- lloorra tefMWe throbbing .across her brow .in.l i, |,i„ip i M ], Pr tliroat. (.'radu.-illy &li f . reeolleeted the linrror of that half-hour before she had fainted, and slowly she raised henself and tot-ter,-.1 to a chair. Tpon the tal,],, stood the empty bottle from which Ralph .in.l Adolphe had drunk glass after plan* of red wine, before going forth lo lommit. the crime. There were the three empty plate,-, too, while on the top of the cupboard the chearp. evil-smelling lamp which .lean had. Jit on Ralph's arrival was burning low. shedding a small :'one of dim yellow light, "(lone!" she gasped, aloud. "Oh, 1 can't believe at. Italph —my own Ralph, a. common thief! Impossible—impossible!'' Then she sobbed, burying her pale fare, in both her hands in blank despair. The, .horrible, titter; truth liad been forced upon her, and she sow it all in in Tiideousncss. "Up raised his hand to strike mc down." glic. murmured to herself. "He would have struck mc, had it not been for Adolphe. Ah! yes. - ' she sighed. "Adolphe knows—tip knows the truth— •of all I have suffered. Ralph is a •thief, and—and the police will one day arrest him. He will be tried and punashed, and I shall be left alone—alone!" For ai long time the despairing girl sat in her lonely ropm','laeiit .aula..,utterly, crushed. Her thonglitT "'ere tat -the-n-ran she loved, and who, in return, had now i-evealed his contempt, even hatred. He had told her that she was but an cncumbr_i..e. He had not minced matters, but spoken openly and frankly, like the brute he was. She wad unaware that '"The American" ■was well known in the Montmartre as a. keen. unscrup_ous3an, against wh'o'in were so many charges. Next to "Boii-nem-ain himself he had been the most daring nnd expert of all that dangerous gang. How cleverly he had deceived her. however, she now knew. Her senses seemed benumbed, for tbe blow had rendered her, for the lime, insensible. ' A full hour went by. The room was silent, save that from the courtyard below rose the drunken voice of a workman who lived in the ground floor flat—the husband of the slatternly concierge—who had Just returned. The broken clock still pointed to the hour of four, therefore she had no idea .if the time, but sat staring in front of her. like one in a dream. Once or twice her breast slowly heaved and fell beneath her neat black gown. Then at last she rose, and crossing to the cupboard with linn resolve, toolcon I a small ten-centime bottle, of ink and an envelope. Seating herself at the table, she took the pen in her trembling fingers, and with tears falling upon the paper traced uneven wordri in French, ns follows: — "In spite of my love for you, Ralph, I cannot suffer longer. Certain hidden things in your life frighten inc. Fare--well. l-'orget me.— lean." Slowly she folded it. took off her wed-ding-ring and placed it in tlie envelope toeetlipr with the letter. Afterwards she aiddressed it to her husband, and left it upon the table. Then slowly she rose, -with a hard, fixed look, and pa.ssed into ■tho adjoining room, which was a bedroom. She took a sad farewell of the few little treasures which she had brought, from her own room an Oxford Street, vknick-knacks, photographs, and the like, .aiud puttiaag on 'her hat, passed hack a-ju-ross the living room, nnd then crept -« r -<lown the stairs nnd out undiscovered wn-ai-d unheard hy the ever watchful old J .-woman an the .black knitted shawl. Without a. glance back she gained flip ijliroad. well-lit thoroughfare, and, turning j-to the left, went blindly and brokenhearted along in the direction of the §*Bois, out into the world, sad. despair?jaig. and alone, heedless of where her '"■footsteps led out inlo tho -s_nown Meanwhile •'The American" and "The pSEcI" were -busy with their adveniure. ; ; To the left of the broad main avenue. iVwhich running through Xeuilly-on-Seine, tlie river to Courbevoie, lived the ? Uveal thy Baron de Ryeker. » The 3aou.se stood ailone an a secluded spot surrounded by its own spacious .' grounds, and hidden from the. road by }.& high walk In this was a big gate »-of oimmrentaal iron, the lop of which, was "ilded—a- gate which the concierge, who '•lived in tbe lodge beside it. always kept t/3ocakPd. Rut. through ihe gate, the house ir6olf could not be seen, because plates of Iron had been fixed half-way up, shutting out the. view of the house and ' well-kept grounds from Hie public view. As Ralph was aware, the concierge was more than a mere lodge-keeper. lie knew who were the Baron's friend*, and ttdmitteal them without question. in whatever garb they might chance to be. But any inquisitive person, or stranger, nevpr got within that gate, or if they attempted they met with a warm reception from the tierce dog which constantly prowled about ihc grounds. The two men arrived in Xeuilly soon after eleven o'clock, and, entering a cafe near the river, remained there smoking and drinking coffee till midnight, when they went forth, treading lightly, for at "Tbe Ed's" lodgings in the Rue Lapage. oil tbe Boulevard de Clichy, they had both put on boot 3 with indiarubber soles. Passing the wall of the Baron's garden, they found all quiet and in darkness. Then '"The American' went back as far as the gate, and threw a stone the ironwork, with the result that the dog which prowled there at ni'dit barked furiously. That was what Ralph Ansell desired. Taking from his pocket a stone, to which was tied by cotton a piece of poisoned liver, he threw it over the gale and listened to it drop upon the gravel. In a moment the dog. wit it natural curiosity, pounced upon it. and finding it to be* a toothsome delicacy, could not resist it. For another live minutes Ralph wait, 1 without making a sound. Then be threw another stone against S.C iron sheeting oi the gate.

The noise was loud. But there was no answering bark. Then ai e crept back to where Adolphe lurked in the shadow. A quarter of an hour later both men were crouching before a long window, which led out upon a well-kept lawn. They had scaled the wall, and crept across the grass without a sound. Ihe weather favoured them, for there w.ls a. rtlighl west wind which, while catching the foliage of the trees, caused it to rustle an.l so conceal any slight noise tliey might make. Ralph pressed the button of his electric lamp, and a small spot of light shone upon the glass. Then, with expert hand, he quickly smeared it with treacle, and afterwards, with a. glazier's diamond, cut out a piece sufficient to allow him to insert bis hand and turn the latch within. A moment later both men were inside the large. Well-furnished salle a inanior. treading noiselessly upon the thick Turkey carpet, though 'The Eel." in pntering. unfortunately stumbled, and in grabbing the door to prevent himself falling cut his hand badly, even through the india-rubber glovps they both wore. The pair losi no time, in clearing the fine carved sideboard of the quantity of valuable plate it contained. Then,' led by Ralph, to whom the interior of the big hott.se was well known. "The Eel" entpred the cosy, liixiiriously.furni.shed library, which w-is the private den of the chief secret aL»cnt of the Herman Empire. It was noi a large room. Its size was revealed to Adolphe by ihe Hashing of his companion's lamp. ' Lined with books, and with a big. business-like writing-table placed in the window, it was a co.sy place—a place with which many -a spy of Germany was familiar, and in which many a nia.n had received a bundle of hundred-fane notes in return for information, or plans of France's armaments or defences. From it a door led siraight into the grounds, so that a visitor was not compelled to pass through the house in order to have a coiilidenii.il dial with its owner, while in a farther corner of the garden was a door in tin- wall by whieli a side-road anight be gained. Neither man spolae as lliey made a, noiseless tour of the room. "The Eel" carried a capacious sack of black material, and into it thrust what knickknacks seemed to be of value—several miniatures, a couple of gold snuff-boxes, a small box of Limoges enamel, and the like, while '"The American" was busy with his skeleton keys at the drawers of the big writing table. Suddenly he beckoned to Adolphe, and ihe- latter, as he .approached, saw that he haif'succeeded in opening one of the small drawers. Within was a secret cavity known to tlie thief, for he had twice watched the German spy take money from it. There was a spring at the back of the drawer, and as "The Eel" directed the rays of light inside, his companion fingered it. with the result that of a sudden a portion of the wood fell back, and from within the other drew out a large bundle of French thousand-franc notes secured by an elastic band. With a low whistle ' Ansell. with gloating eyes, slipped them into his breast pocket. Then, diving his hand in again, he drew out several hand.sonic bracelets set with diamonds and emeralds, two strings of matched pearls, a diamond and platinum pendant, a mull'-eliain set with diamond.-., and a child's coral necklet —the jewellery belonging to tlie Baron's dead wife and his little daughter—which he kept concealed there, a. relic of a long-past domestic happiness. With scarce a glance at the valuables the thief thrust them into his pocket. Eagerly they cleared the secret space behind the back of thp drawer. There were three other bank-notes lying loose, about twenty golden louis, two ■ ruby rings, and lastly a safe-key. which Ralph held up in triumph, whispering: — "What about the Karon's secret correspondence—eh'!'' "Where's the. safe?" asked his companion. "Cpstairs—in his room, T expect. Tt is not here.' Then, leaving the drawer open. Ralph Ansell crossed the room. and. opening his big clasp-knife, the blade of which was as sharp as a Tazor. he commenced to slash vigorously at the pale green silk upholstery of the conch and ea,-y chairs. He was angry and vicious in his attacks upon the furniture, cutting and slashing everywhere in his triumph over the man who had refused to further assist him. "The Eel" watched without uttering a remark. He had seen such explosions of anger before oA\ the part of his companions, when they were doing other "jobs." It is. indeed, well known to criminologists, and to all police ollici.ils that the average burglar is never satistied with mere theft, however great may be his coup, but that some force impels him to spend time in committing wanton damage to the, furniture. - It -vas so with Ralph Ansell, He liatpd the Bairoii, therefoi-e he slashed his furniture. In many other homes he. had acted in a similar way. jusr. as. indeed. J*,onne:uain always acted, carrying t keen knife lor the purpose. "Shall you risk going to his room?" whisfpi.,l Adolphe, who approached him. "Of course, mv friend. A few of those papers will be worth thousands ! of francs to us," he repiied, in a low breath. "This is the job oi our lives, mon veils. 1 dare say there are papers there vlreh. tiie Ucrmsn Government would buy back at any price we chose to put on them." "All right, then.'' was "The Eel"s reply. "If there's no preat risk, then let us have a try." "You've got your revolver—eh?" "Xo. 1 never carry one now," was Atlolphe's response. "Never mind. I've got one. and I shall shoot —if necessary." Ralph remarked. "1 mean to have those pipers at all costs. So don't lose your head." "I never do." "Bicn! Then lo work." And the pair crept from the room without a .sound, and along the dark, thickly-carpeted corridor. (To be continued daily.) Your cold can be cured by taking " cough cure is good for all chest ailments! Baxter's Lung Preserver. This Tellable Chemists and stores, 1/10. —(Ad.)