ON THE THRESH HOLD OF THE CHAMBER OF HORRORS.

Press, Volume LII, Issue 8994, 5 January 1895, Page 2

ON THE THRESH HOLD OF THE CHAMBER OF HORRORS.

- Illustrated Sporting aud Dramatic News. It wai flve week* or more now that Edward Clay had been "wanted" for the revolting and mysterious* murder at Manchester, known as the London-road murder. The police, said the P ese, were ••very reticent" on the subject, and for a good reason; they possessed not the faintest clue to Clay's whereabouts. Meanwhile he was living peaceably at a dingy little Temperance Hotel in Bloomsbury, taking his walks abroad by daylight in his ordinary apparel, and quJetfy enjoying the proceeds) of an embezzlement of ; £1000.

It was thanks, perhaps, to his very ordinary appearance that Clay had hitherto ' escaped police vigilance. Any man more like the general impression of man it would be difficult to. imagine. He was a fourth-rate trainer by profession, but there .was nothing at all horsey in his appearance. Then he was neither tall nor short, stout nor thin, fair nor dark, nor was there the faintest irregularity or peculiarity In hie features. He Wore a blue melton overcoat with velvercoUar.abrown billycock, a white pique tie with imitation pearl pin, and he usually carried the commonplace hazel stick that every other ! man in London carries. In short, his J whole appearance was neutral and incon* < spicuous, and as he stroll d down Baker- | street, no human being on the pavement ! looked less like a notorious murderer than i Edward Clay. But as he strolled down Baker-street, his eyes happened to wander up to a window. Two men wore looking down into the street, one cadaverous, clean* shaven, his keen face full of power and intelligence, the other heavy, commonplace, good-uatured, with a. thick moustache hiding his indolent mouth. Clay recognised in the former a celebrated detective, and started slightly. Perhaps the start betrayed him. Both men suddenly disappeared from the window. Clay quickened bis pace. After walking a hundred yards, he turned and saw both the men on the doorstep. They began to follow him briskly.

Clay turned down the Marylebone-road, and being no longer under observation ran hastily over to the St. John's Wood Station of the underground railway. He looked up at the clock—one minute to two; he had just time to catch the train. He took a ticket to Willesden, his intention being when there to walk over to the great junction, and get a North London train back to Broad-street. But , would not the detective have time to be upon him before the train started? He looked cautiously out of the station entrance, and it was well for his safety that he did. The detective had divined his plan, and was just disappearing into the northern entrance of the " Circle" station, no doubt with the intention of finding his way to the St. John's Wood platform by a circuitous route and unexpectedly pouncing on his prey. The detective's friend was coming along the Marylebone-road towards the St.-John's Wood Station. In thirty seconds more Clay's retreat would be completely cut: off. IE be went into the station, there he would find the detectives if he waited, where he was the detective's friend would.soon bo up with him. He turned into the Rtreet, and began to walk briskly towards Portland-road.

Arrived opposite the entrance to Madame Tussaud's, Clay looked back. The detective's friend was following; his eyes were cast down; he was trying to look unconscious, and was really looking supremely self conscious all the while. _^_ A " New-road " bus was passing. Clay deliberated as to jumping on to it, but pursuit would have been easy.. At that in* ; stant the detective emerged from the St. ' John's Wood Station. Clay was seized with : momentary panic and did a seemingly foolish thing; he darted into Mtdame Tuseaud's. Aβ he was paying his shilling, he realised that he had walked into a trap. In some confused way he atlll hoped to dodge behind the figures and escape. He walked quickly upstairs, and proceeded to the end room. ,

Presently a smothered exclamation escaped him. There, very near the entrance to the Chamber of Horrors, was hie own effigy in wax 1 There he stood, in blue melton overcoat and brown billycock and white pique tie, resting on his commonplace hazel. It was a wonderful piece of work. Clay had enjoyed reading its praises in the papers, but he was hot prepared for ao perfect a counterteit presentment.

And now a genuine inspiration occurred to him. He lifted the wax figure, carried it across the room, and hid it behind the effigy of aßcithh peer Iα his flowing robes. It was only two in the afternoon; not a single visitor was in the place; a sleepy attendant was dozing at the other end of the room. He had beeu unobserved. Then he went back and put himself in the place of his own effigy, and gazed fixedly into epace.

Hβ had not long to wait for hit pursuers. The two men were soon standing in front of him.

" Here's hie efilgy, at all events," observed the great detective. ". It's the best bit of wax-work I've ever seen, t aaw it last week, and that's how I t«ecognised the man today ;• but, npon my word, it's even more life-like that I thoug'ut."

"Yes." replied the friend, "It's really wonderful. It's positively alive. The skin ian't hard and shiny like wax. It really has that' half-grimy look thac the best of men get after running about Manchester for a day."

"I congratulate the establishment," said the detective. " But we mustn't allow the original to escape us'while' 1 we are admiring the model. I expect, though, we shall flqd him where his model will soon follow —in the Chamber of Horrors."

"St!" cried the other, suddenly, a look of pride and triumph illuminating his good-natured features, "there he is—don't you see—skulking behind lhat portentouslooking noble lord on the other side of toe room. I shouldn't have seen him if the fool had taken his hat off. Shall I go round the other way so as to oat off his retreat!" ,

The detective considered the situation with a rapid glance. "No need for that," he said ; "he can't escape us now. :I think we may as well add a little refined torture to my gentleman's agony. He richly deserves it."

The two men went across and sat down opposite the effigy of tbe majestic peer, the detective in full enjoyment of the Idea of starving oat his victim. " Now then, my friend, ,, , he said aloud, " when.you're tired of skulking you can come out. I'm Iα no hurry." . .

The Edward Clay of flesh and blood conld now relax ■ his features, and they softened into a snails of contempt, and triumph. He bent down low, and crouching down, stole noiselessly from the room. Then, erect and leisurely, he strolled down the stairs, walked out Into the street, and went back to the St. John's Wood Station. There was no hurry; he realised that the detective, with his design,of refined torture, was making him a present of abundance of precious time. No watch had been set for him, for bis adversary preferred reserving to himself the whole glory of his trinmptis. In live minute* more Clay was whirling away in a train of the St. John's Wood line. ... * The two men continued to sit in silence for a quarter of an hour or more. , J Ha keeps wonderfully still, doesn't he ?" observed tbe friend* "Yes," replied the detective, "but I don't envy him his sensations. Perhaps, however, the poor, devil's had enough qI the rack now." He rose f rora hia seat, reached over the hereditary legislator, and , with bis oane rapped the shoulder of the

wax ima*e oi Udwarti day. " Come alone 5 ' my friend," he observed facetiously, n coot out of that. I don't wish to be*tooh*r|". upon you." *

"Hi!" «houtedan excited voice behind i them, "Hi 1 Wot are you doln , to tUto « fingers? I seed yel I'li 'aye ye run in te "i sure as my name's——" An. \, gesticulating luriously, came up to theni "Si 1 you fool!" replied the ! angrily; "don't you see there's a hiding behind thae figure? It's E4w w ,j Clay, the Manchester murderer."

" Edward Clay J Hi! policeman, poUc* man! Hi! 'urry up!" shouted u>6 < attendant, wild with excitement. policeman emerged with much delibtrt. lion from the next room; nothing wquM induce him to "'urry up."

"Confound the fellow!" muttered th e detective, "he's spoiled my plans, bat at all events the bird's safe. Look here policeman," he contiuued, turning to the phlegmatic minister of the law, "j 00 know mc, I dare say I" The policeman scrutinised him closely " Yexsir," he replied, deferentially.

"Well, that fellow skulking behind there is Edward Clay, the London Road, murderer. You know the Treasury ytatep dty decided to offer £200 for his capture, ' I make you a free gift of him." The policeman's eyes gleamed; ho lo.ifc no time in getting behind the noble lord, and, two seconds later, he was holding aloft, in stupor and amazement, the rigid wuxen effigy of the notorious Edward Clay. "Death and damnation!" shouted the great detective, quoting Shakespeare. Uti gave a glance ac the vacant spot on tt>» opposite side of the room, and ground his teeth in fury. \ "Come along!" he said sharply to hit friend, " there's not a moment to lose." "'Ere, atop a bit!" cried the exdfcfd attendant, who hadn't taken in the sitn*. tion. " I want to know 'ooV bin a-movia* them flggers, that's wot I want to know; Oh, no, ye don't!" he continued, as tht detective and his friend began to move oft " 'Ere, aw fleer, run 'em In, 1 aay!" "It's all right," observed the policeman imperturbably; " that's Mr—-, the great ' detective, but 'c's met his match this time."

Clay had judged it better to get oat 6b Marlborough road Station. So far the detective traced him, but there he lout every vestige of him.. Clay's commeaplace appearance was Ms great safeguard; He made a long leisurely detour by Urovend road and Liasou strove, and quietly regained his Temperance Hotel in time fur seven o'clock dinner.

- It was not till two years after this that the police succeeded in tracking him and running him down. And then his wonder, ful waxen model was moved with due solemnity to its proper place, across till threshold of the Chamber of Horrors. Montgomery Carmichaeu