CHAPTER IV.

Clutha Leader, Volume XVII, Issue 835, 18 July 1890, Page 7

CHAPTER IV.

Frank Holmes reflected a minute or two, and shook his head. For his own reasons he doubted the probability. He knew the method which the police were pursuing — the traditional, and often successful, one of following up and arresting men ans >vering to the description of any person or persons L remembered to have been seen in the r vicinity of the scene of the tragedy the evening it occurred. He was aware of this, and had little faith in it. It was not his idea, after -thinking the matter out in the light of his experience and intelligence. The method of the police depended on chance, after all ; and when they succeeded in this way they were only entitled to the , credit of perseverance. Putting the paper aside, he awaited the result of this fresh ,'clue' with curiosity -rather than any stronger interest, and then indifferently opened ISfr Clayton's note. This contained two genuine surprises for him, which sent the blood coursing quickly through his veins. It was hurriedly written, dated the preceding night from Oadogan Place, and was as follows :

.'Dear Frank — Have you seen Faune lately ? Pray, let me know. — Mary asks me to say that she would be glad to see you some time to-morrow. — Yours sincerely, R. Clayton. ' Holmes read the lines twice, reflected a minute or two, and glanced at his watGh : it was 9 o'clock. Mr Clayton usually left home for tho city at half- ; past 10. There was no use in puzzling . over the strange inquiry about Faune, , and the still more unexpected request of Mary Clayton ; so, like a man who had himself well disciplined, Frank Holmes seated himself at a table by the window and worked hard and uninterruptedly for the next two hours. Then he rose, and went direct to the city, to call on Mr Clayton. He was was shown in at once to the banker's private room, where he found that gentleman busy with his letters. ' What do you think of the news this morning, Frank V he eagerly asked. ' Not much,' was the answer ; and Mr Clayton's face fell. Holmes explained to him his reasons for not attaching much importance to the supposed clue. ' Still, it may be the man !' ' It may ; on almost the same reasoning, so might any man you met outside in the street. We shall see by tomorrow, doubtless. — But I came to answer personally your inquiry concerning Faune. I have not seen him lately.' I He has never been near us since the. evening you were there last, Frank,' said the. banker gravely. 'It is so extraordinary, and I thought you might be able to explain it.' ' How, Mr Clayton V demanded Holmes, colouring. 'He and I have long ceased to be friends. I had not met him for weeks before that evening.' ' He left early, and rather abruptly, on the occasion in question,' remarked Mr Clayton. 'He was not in the habit of going away at any time before 10; I have since fancied, Frank, that he followed you.' -' No,' said Holmes, thinking as he spoke ; ' I do not think he followed me. Your memory is at fault a little, I think. It must have been nearly half an hour after I left you that he came away.' ' Then you met him ?' 'He overtook me. I had loitered along the way, and it was a quarter past 9 when I reached Albert Gate,. There he overtook me, as I stood for a moment ; he was going his way across the park to Mount street ; my way was up to Hyde Park corner.' 4My fancy was wrong, T see,' observed Mr Clayton after a pause. Then, with some embarrassment, he added : ' Would you mind telling nifi, Frank, what passed between you and him when you met?' 'It was only a few words, and I would rather not repeat them, Mr Clayton.' • Still, I will press my request, Frank. I have been uneasy.' Holmes looked at his old friend for a moment, and then, in a low steady voice and without a sign of emotion, related exactly what had passed. The banker seemed deeply agitated, and walked from the table to the window and back several times. { Well, well,' he said at length, resuming his chair with a sigh, ' what you have told me, Frank, gives me matter to think over. I suppose you wouid'nt call at Faune's lodgings for me, and ask about him !' 'Yes ; I will do so, this morning.' ' Thank you. — Are you going to see Mary V 'As a matter of course, yes. — Do you know why she wishes to see me 1 Is it in connection with the same matter V I I haven't the least idea.. I mentioned that I was sending you a line, and she asked me to say she would be glad to see you to-day, or something to that effect.' ' Well, good morning, Mr Clayton. I will call at Faune's lodgings, and then go on to Cadogan Place.' The air was charged with further surprises for Frank Holmes that day. On ringing afc Faune's lodgings in Mount street, the landlady, who opened the door, received him with a start; o£ surprise and pleasure. She knew him well ; he had once been a frequent caller. ' I have been a good while without seeing you, Mrs Browning,' he said, with a good-natured smile; 'but I have been very busy one way and another, and- Are you quite well V ' Thank you, sir, quite well indeed,' she answered quickly ; ' and if I'd only knowed your address, Mr 'Olmes, I'd have called to speak to you days ago !' • 'About what, Mrs Browning? — Is Mr Faune at home V lAt home ! Why, it's about Mr Faune, sir. He hasn't been here since a week last Sunday !' 1 Holmes started, and after a moment, signed to the woman that he would come in. He followed her into her little, ground-floor parlor and sat down. ' Since Sunday week !' he said quietly. — 'Did Mr Faune say he was going anywhere ?' ' Neve.r a word, sir. After having his breakfast, he read his papers 1 all the day — at least he stayed in ;his room — and in the evening he went out — as I supposed to dinner, as usual — ■ and never came back since. And

i there's a heap of letters for him, and - his clothes, and all his things, and I [ don't know in the world what to do. If Mr Faune don't come back, sir, I shall be at a heavy loss on account of my rooms being unlet' , 'Quite so, Mrs Browning.' Frank had no doubt that Faune was a good . deal in arrears with his rent as well. • He took nothing with him when he left?' ' Nothing at all, sir, that I know of, but what he wore. He took his keys with him, and left his boxes and portman ties and things all locked.' ■ ' Of course Mr Faune was here the previous night V I Yes, sir ; he came in a few minutes before 10 — about five minutes.' Holmes recalled that Saturday night. It was a quarter past 9 when he met Piiune at Albert Gate, which, allowing for one or two minutes' delay there, left him at least 35 minutes to walk across the corner of the park between that point and Mount street. It was not more than 10 minutes' walk ; but doubtless Faune, indulging in a smoke, sauntered easily ; so that Mrs Browning was sufficiently accurate in her recollection of the hour at which her lodger came in. ' I met Mr Faune for a minute that night at Albert Gate on his way home,' he remarked — and he regretted, soon afterwards, having dropped the remark ; ' it was then, i remember, 15 minutes past 9 by the chiming of a public clock. I have not seen or heard of him since. I came to ask about him this morning, because a friend of his who has missed him requested me to do so.' ' In — in case,' said the woman with trepidation, ' anything happened to him, I haven't moved a thing in his rooms. I keep them locked all day, only opening the windows. ' Nothing has happened to him, I am quite sure.' ' And going to be married, too — to a beautiful wealthy young lady, as he told me !' said Mrs Browning, sighing deeply and clasping her hands. 'ft is a little extraordinary,' said Holmes, rising; 'but no doubt he will soon turn up. He may have gone down the river with some friend in a yacht, and been carried farther than they meant to go. That often happens.' And promising to let her know if he heard anything concerning her lodger, Frank Holmes went away. Much as the strange and sudden disappearance of Claude Faune puzzled him and filled his thoughts, walking slowly up the pavement of Moui.fc street he could not help thinking of Margaret Neale. He was treading the very stones upon which she had walked that fatal Saturday night to her death. As imagination worked more and more, his pace grew slower and slower. With his hands behind his back, and his head bent, he followed her light footsteps foot by foot to the top of the street — across Park Lane — through the small gate — along the path between the flower-beds and across the road to the steps, ot the bottom of which she was killed. Some children were playing at the fountain below, but he did not see them, so wrapt was he in the mental process of picturing the sce.ne. Whom had she come to meet 1 Was this the appointed place 1 Had shebeen kept waiting, and gone down the steps to bo out of view in the hollow 1 No ; she had not clone this, unless it was prearranged, for by going down the steps she bvcamo invisible from the roads above. By which path had her assassin come ? — from the right or the left or the front 1 True, she might have gone farther than this place, and returned ; but this was hardly likely, for nobody coming that way — from the west side of the fountain — after dark would think of crossing through the hollow to shorten the distance round by a few yards. Then, as he was moving away, Holmes stopped short with a start. An idea had flashed upon him, the consequence of which will be seen in due- time. It was not without some beating of the heart that he stood at the door of the house in Cadogan Place again. Whilst the footman took his card vp — the card of Frank Holmes, who had been wont to ascend the stairs, without announcement* three steps at a time, swinging his hat and maybe whistling ! — he resumed his ordinary calm. As soon as he entered the drawing-room, it was manifest to him, although she colored, that Miss Clayton was controlling herself; but the nature of the feeling under control he could not conjecture. • Thank you for coming, Frank,' she said very quietly, giving him her hand and inviting him by a sign to a chair close to her own. If he had come there with the faintest hope — which he had not — her reception would have killed it on the spot. I 1 saw your-iather this morning,' he said, taking the plunge at once, ' and he asked me if I knew anything about Claude Faune. lam sorry Ido not. ,1 have gone to his lodgings, and his landlady is equally in the dark.' Mary Clayton slightly raised her brows, and asked when he had last been in his rooms. ' Last Sunday week. He went out in the evening— -the woman thought to dinner — and has not come back since. It is odd; but, you know, a young man like Faune may have gone on the spur of the moment boating, or yachting off the coast, with an^ fellow who asked hiiii.'

' Perhaps that is it,' she answered, with an indifference which surprised him, < although I do not think so However, it is not to speak about the : mysterious disappearance of Mr Faune that I have asked you to call.' She hesitated, and seemed to be gathering her strength before going on. Looking straight in his eyeig, with the color at ! first high in her face, she said : l Frank, knowing you as well as I have a right to do, I am sure you will not misconstrue me.now., „You came here that night to see my father, and went away without coining, in to see me. Of course I know Mr Faune was here. I met you at another time in the street, and you decidedly looked annoyed at being recognised by me. I will say nothing concerning your ceasing for so long to call here — where you were always not a visitor, but a friend. Will you tell me why all this has been ? ' You will not misconstrue me, I know.' The calm bravery with which she said it, her clear gray eyes never flinching ' for a moment or her voice wavering, was truly admirable. Amazement was written in the man's face. What answer to make he could not for a while imagine. ' Mary,' he said at last, doubtfully, ' did you know why your father asked me hero that evening? ' I did not know that he had asked you at all.' ' You thought I came unasked V he said with a perceptible curl of the lip. ' If you had,' she answered, ' it would not have been the first time.' ' Ah, but then it was different.' ' How was it different V the girl demanded, flashing her eyes upon him. ' I have no mother to guide me, Frank ; but I have a right to an explanation. I always welcomed you here whenever you chose to come; ,you had no right to drop the privilege without telling me why. Has it never struck you that you offended me 1 Is a girl to accept that which a man has the right to resent 1 I have my proper pride, but it does not prompt me to bear this in silence.' Frank Holmes stood up, pale. 'Mary,' he said, 'I am afraid, grevously afraid, there has been a great mistake somewhere. lam not able to think it out now. But I will tell you what your father wanted me for that evening.' . He related it to her in a few words, as delicately as he had the skill to do it. The color passed gradually from the girl's face, and she rose when he had done and put her hand familiarly on his arm for a moment. ' I understand it now,' she said. ' There was, as you have said, a great mistake. How my father came to fancy it, I do not know ; he was deceived by appearances and, perhaps, representations. But I havejnever been engaged to marry Mr Faune, more than I have been engaged to marry you !' « But— but ' ' But ie might have been % Nay, nay ; you are wrong. Again, be careful not to misconstrue me. The false friend never mado a good husband, and will never get the chance from any girl who has her senses.' At this point Frank Holmes was in a painful dilemma. Could Mary Clayton be ignorant, now, that she was mistress of his heart *? If not, she certainly betrayed not che least consciousness of her knowledge. She had warned him not to * misconstrue ' her, which was not encouraging ; and she had spoken of the * false friend.' In what did she regard him as false 1 In seeking to win the object of his friend's affection 1 Ah ; but then the ' object ' had not resented the treachery in the spirit in . which she referred to it now. Tarn perplexed, Mary; I must think over things. I will not conceal that I have been, very unhappy.' ' You could npt conceal it, Frank, if you tried. It is written in your eyes, in your face ; but it has done you good — it has made you work.' ' 1 haven't worked for the love of the thing.' (No matter for the motive ; the results are the same. — Now, there is the luncheon bell ; will you join me as in the old days f How could he resist her 1 When it was over he was about to leave ; but she detained him, saying : ' When will you come again V He held her band for a second or two, examining her eyes 'and face with a hungry look. It was a very sweet face, with bright clear eyes looking into his own ; and they made him unsatisfied and unhappy, for he saw no sign of what he hungered for. A short while back this craving wa« not upon him, and he loved her as ardently as now. Afraid to commit himself to an answer, he pressed her hand and went away. As he emerged into the crowded Knightsbridge road from the quiet squares, his ear, familinr with sti'eet cries, caught the echo of one that petrified him. The early evening newspapers were out, and the newsboys were screaming: 'Hyde Park murder — Arrest of the Honorable Claude Faune!'. {To be Continued.)