IN THE VERY NICK OF TIME.

Dunstan Times, Issue 2087, 23 July 1901, Page 3

IN THE VERY NICK OF TIME.

[All Rights Reserved.]

By Ellis Mabston

Rain, fog, mud, and general depression. A typical November day, the which whoso hath not yet experienced hath missed a chapter in his life against whose dark background the suns and flowers of June stand' out in strong relief. Fog and drizzle that kept on mildly, silently, persistently, gradually wetting through the unwary passenger who had ventured out without umbrella and overcoat, making the pavement slippery and unsafe for pedestrians, and causing the wheels of passing vehicles to send up lozenges of mud against hat or ulster. And still the fog thickened and thickened until the omnibuses ceased running, and the outlines of houses grew dimmer und dimmer, and only a faint light fronijin occasional crawling hansom showed thr.t life still moved along the roads. It took a strong incentive to make a man leave his -warm fireside, his cigar, and his favorite author to face the chill damp horrors of a night like this, and in my case the incentive was not wanting. I was on the way to visit- my fair fiancee, and to dine at the hospitable mahogany beneath which I had not infrequently stretched my legs. Arrived, as I thought, at the well-remem-bered house, overlooking Hyde Park, I rang the bell, and was admitted by a respectably dressed man, the butler, I supposed, who seemed to scrutinise my face narrowly as I entered. I was considerably surprised, for the Moretons' butler was an old family appendage, quite essential to their comfort and well-being; and I had heard no word of his leaving. With a hearty "All well, I hope. Palmer," and having divested myself of hat, ulster, and goloshes, I ascended the stairs. En passant, give me leave to say that I hope no one will form a bad opinion of me by the mention of that word goloshes. For no one but my adored Kathleen would I have donned these justly obnoxious articles ; but I could not enter that sweet presence with muddy boots; and a day indoors over sedentary work rendered a long walk necessary to the health both of mind and body. I went quietly upstairs, and entered the drawing room, where I was wont to be greeted by the smiles and the voice I loved best; but to my surprise was confronted by a stranger. A man of medium height, and I should say of about thirty-five years of age, was standing before the fire smoking, and turned as I entered. Surprised as I was, I noted in a moment the deep-set eyes, the square nostrils, and the length of line from the crown of the head to the chin. " Ah, come at last. I was weary of waiting," he said, with a strong foreign accent. Then, as his gloomy eyes looked menacingly into mine : " You are not going to draw back. Afraid, eh?" " Not at all," I said. " I have no reason to fear, but I have made amistake." "Ah, thoy all say that," he said, pulling fiercely at his moustache, "it is the last resource of cowards." " Ceme," I said, nettled. "Be civil, if you please. I suppose I have come to the wrong house, and " Before I could finish the sentence he strode to the door, and locked it, then coolly presented a pistol at my breast. " So, he said, in a determined voice.

" A traitor in the camp. lam sorry for —but you had better say your prayers the watch on the chimney piece there. You cannot say that I am precipitate." I struck up his hand, and forced a laugh, although I certainly felt far from comfortable.

"This joke has gone quite far enough," I said. " I was on my way to my friend Moretons house, Sir Henry Moreton, you know. .It seems that in the fog I have mistaken the house. Let me depart quicklv, for I shall keep the dinner waiting." ' He meditated for a few seconds, and his brow cleared. "What is your friend's address?" he asked, abruptly. "48 Clare place." "Ah. wrong, wrong, quite wrong! Well, go in peace if your tale be true; but if there is treachery, beware! for my arm _is far-reaching and "never spares the guilty." He spoke with dramatic gestures, and taking a black silk scarf from his waist bound it tightly over my eyes. Then he pressed the steet of'the pistol against my forehead and took me by the arm. "Attempt to escape or cry out," he said, " and your doom is fixed." He led me downstairs and into the hall, the door opened, and we descended the steps and went out into the inclemency of the night. He had taken a soft felt hat, from the hall, and put it on my head, drawing it down over my face. I felt myself led along the pavement down one street and up another, and still the conviction strongly possessed me that we were gradually returning to the point from which we started. At last we stopped, and my conductor remove*£the bandage. The fog was still so dense that I could only discern a vague outline of his form as he stood a couple of yards distant from me. " You are free," he said ; " but you Were never nearer your death than you have been this night. See to it that you breathe no Avord of what has happened; and if ever we chance to meet, remember it must be as strangers —or you will repent." Then the fog seemed to close over him, and he was gone. I found myself close to No. 48, and, wet as I was, I entered the hospitable door, and by the care of old Palmer was made presentable before I entered the drawing room, and the sunshine of Kathleen's presence. She was looking her loveliest in the dress that I most affected, a silver grey poplin,

with a running pattern of silver through it, and a bunch of crimson flowers at her waist. Her plentiful nut-brown hair rippled over her pretty and fell in adorable little tendrils over her white forehead and the nape of her neck. Her hazel eyes.shone like diamonds, her cheeks were damask roses. On one dimpled wrist she wore a turquoise and gold bracelet I had sent her the day before, and as she held it up, laughingly asking if it did not look better there than in the jeweller's shop, there seemed only one course open to me, and that was to take her in my arms and tell her that everything she wore" became her, and that she was the loveliest and sweetest girl in the world—and this sentence was rounded off in a manner I leave you to imagine. At about nine o'clock I left my paradise and took a hansom to Hatton Garden, to visit a certain Jew diamond merchant with whom I had an appointment. He had agreed to take some old-fashioned jewellery belonging to my family, and in return I intended purchasing some unset gems to be made up into a true lover's knot for my bride.

The fog was as thick us ever, but my Jehu drove carefully, and saved me from collision,-and set me down safely at Isaac St muss's door. By what light the nearest lamp gave I noticed two men apparently in earnest conversation under the lamp, and could not help wondering why they had not chosen a warmer rendezvous than the dark, sloppy, miserable street. Isaac was expecting nie, and brought, out y, flection that set my mouth watering.

Starry diamonds, blood-red rubies, royal pearls, emeralds, and opals, changing with every light; it was difficult to choose from such a hoard. Fate, however, had limited my purchase to a certain sum. and eventually I departed with, the diamonds and pearls destined to adorn the fair neck of Kathleen. I had dismissed the hu .<«iui. and as no other Mas within hail I walked on towards the main road. To my sunrise there were the two men, whom I had forgotten, still talking under the gas lamp. One of them was gesticulating wildly, the other stood with downbent head. " So," said the first, in a voice that made me start, "are you, too, afraid? I though! better of you, Hooley But leave me tc work alone—-it is best. A half-hearted ally is best absent."

" I am quite willing," said the other in a hesitating voice. "if there is a rea6onabk chance of success. You know that lam nc coward, Storoff. You have, had proof enough, Heaven knows. But.l do not see the good of miming one's neck into a noose for nothing."

" Then you draw back altogether," said Storoff fiercelv.

"Give me a few days for thought, and inquiry. You have sprung this upon me suddenly. Old Strauss may have more safeguards than you imagine—and " Here Storoff, apparently perceiving my form through the fog, tapped his companion on the arm, and they moved off slowly doM'n a side street, conversing as they M'ent. I walked home musing deeply. What was this mystery upon whose verge I seemed to be treading? Who M-as this man, who had thus twice come within my range— M-ithout any volition on my part? And what had he to do with old Strauss?

When I got back to my rooms I tried to M-i-ite, to read; but it was in vain. The mysterious stranger, with his deep voice and gloomy eyes, M-as ever in my thoughts. Finally I gave up all idea of work, and stirr.'ng up the fire, filled my pipe, and abandoned myself to reverie. I must have fallen asleep, and when I aMoke the fire M-as out, the lamp just expiring, and I was chilled and depressed. " Bed is the be*t place under the circumstances," I muttered, and thought? I heard at the far end of the room a dee]) sigh. Startled, I turned in that direction, and saw what looked like a light cloud M'hich floated slom-Iv toM-ards me.

As it approached, it greM- brighter, it took form and shape, and there before me stood the image of Kathleen. She looked at me with melancholy eyes, and said slowly and distinctly :' " Ralph, danger awaits you. Be on your guard. Do not go near that man Storoff."

I started forward, but she waved me off, sighed once again deeply, mournfully, and was gone. So certain did I feel of the reality of what I had seen that I M'ent quickly into the hall, and searched in every direction, in the hope of finding my SM-eetheart hidden aM-ay some-M-here. But my search Mas fruitless, and at last I went to'bed and dozed fitfully until the grey morning appeared. As soon as I could decently make a call I took my way to Clare place and inquired for Kathleen. She came to me, looking pale and neivous, as if she had passed a sleepless night. " Thank Heaven! that you have come," she said, "I have had bad dreams about you." "What dreams, foolish child?"

" I dreamt—oh ! don't laugh at me, please, that someone was threatening your life; a dark man—a foreigner, I think—with fierce, gloomv eves, and a deep harsh voice. I knew 'it. I don't know how. and I tried to warn you—oh! I tried so hard, and then awoke"trembling and sobbing." She was sobbin< now, so I soothed her and consoled her : and she grew quite calm, but was not her own bright self. " And when did you have this dreadful dream?" I asked, and she answered: "I looked at my watch when I awoke, and it was just two o'clock." Now, as I had gone upstairs after my ineffectual search in the hall the night before, the grandfather's clock on the staircase had struck two. 1 laughed at her, and told her she was nervous and fanciful, and that she must have tonics and country air. and all the time I believed every word she said, and knew that there must be, some deep meaning in what, had occurred. "Ah! You think me foolish, Ralph, said the sweet voice ; " but I am sure you have an enemy, and are in peril of some kind. Promise me one thing at least, that you will not go about unarmed. You showed me your revolver once ; promise me to take it always with you until the danger is past." I kissed her and promised, and forgetting her fears, she soon brightened into the happy giii I had always known. Two davs passed without anything of moment occurring. On the third, finding mv list of jewels for my bridal gift still incomplete. I resolved on paying another visit to old Isaac Strauss. I wanted a particular ruby I had seen, for the centre of the pendant, and a small legacy having opportunely come to me, I resolved on spending part of it in the purchase of this gem. The night was as foggy as. that on * Inch I had made the previous visit to Hatton Garden, and if possible darker. 1 hired a hansom, but after the wheels had twice become blocked with another vehicle, and the drive;*3onfessed that he had lost his waj ,1 preferred trusting to my feet, and guided by my own instinct and a. hint from an occasional policeman reached at last old Isaac s door in safety. I found the ancient Israelite grimy as ever, in his secret den, where, surrounded by iron- safes- and heavy brassbound coffers", he was making up his accounts. . His brilliant eyes gleamed at me from under his shaggy eyebrows. _ " Vot you vant. jaein vrent I More jewels for dis schone madchen. Yu, here are diamonds from the mines of Africa—rubies, emeralds, topaz, amethyst, all sizes and hues for de neck or dc arm or de hair of Beauty. Choose and buy, choose and buy, for de market is going up, and now is your time to make crate bargains."

I chaffered for the particular gem on which I had set my heart, and after a whole hour had passed came to terms with Isaac, making him deduct a good third from the price he had originally charged. Then he insisted on showing me a fresh consignment of gems he had received that day from Africa, knowing, as he said, that I was acquainted with many fair ladies of the beau nionde, and so could advertise his goods, which could be purchased from him more cheaply than from a jeweller.

In looking over these treasures the time passed unnoted. St. Paul's was booming out eleven as I bade Isaac good-night and found myself once more iu the murky air and the muddy streets.

This time no outlines of houses or railings were visible. No wheel of hansom or four-wheeler was heard on the stones, and only a dim white blur showed where the gas lamps still burned. I wandered on in the hope of meeting with some policeman or belated foot passenger, but none crossed my track, and after walking for an hour in what I believed to be the right direction I. reluctantly came to the conclusion that 1 was hopelessly lost. It certainly was a, dreadful predicament to be in, for though in my native London streets, 1 might; almost as well have been in the Desert of the Sahara, and for a, moment 1 stood to consider, and if possible to dis-

cover my whereabouts. Hopeless task! Where all was alike fog, fog. and on all sides fog. " There is nothing for it but putting one's trust in Providence and going ahead," I said to myself, and decided to make for the first glimmer of light I should see. There shone one in the distance, faint and misty, but still a light, and I made towards it. Another and another gleamed further down, and I still walked on. Now I am off the pavement, here is a side street evidently, and lamps on either side. As likely as not this is my own street, and yonder lamp is the one which burns just opposite mv rooms.

I walked on jubilantly. What a bump of locality I must have, to be sure, to find my way on such i night as this. Just as I reached what I supposed was my own door, a yell, shrill yet stifled, rang out on the silence of the night. So portentious was it that mechanically I grasped my revolver and made for the door.

'\\> my surprise it pushed easily open, so entering I closed it behind me. and found myself in a long and dark passage, from a door at the end of which a light and the sound of scufHing proceeded. " I tell you tousand tiefs that you shall not haf mein jewels. I will liefer die; and you will be none de richer, for de secret of my locks none knows, and if you kill me or you let me lif it is all de same." Here another voice appeared to swear heartily in an unknown tongue, and from certain sounds the person to whom the voice belonged was apparently raining blows on somebody. But here a third voice broke in. " Let him alone, Storoff. You will knock the life out of the old man, and of what use Mill he, be to us then? Good Mr Strauss! dear Mr Strauss! hearken, I beseech you. I am your friend, and would not willingly see you maltreated. Give us but the keys of your safes. We will not deprive you overmuch."

A sardonic laugh M-as the only reply. I had recognised old Isaac's voice. Heaven, seemingly, had guided my footsteps back in order that I might defend the lonely and unprotected! old man. Softly I stole to the door, and. unperceived Ja the darkness, could look in at what M-as goimj on. I beheld old Isaac, clad in dressing-gown and slippers, and with his long grey hair all disordered and dabbled with blood, held forcibly doM-n in his easy chair by one man, while another (in M'hom I recognised my acquaintance of four days ago) stood over him. a cruel-looking stick in his upraised hand.

I pointed the revolver and fired, and the hand which held the stick fell, broken at the wrist. With a wild exclamation the man sprang at me, but another shot just below the knee brought him to the ground. The other fellow, apparently thinking discretion the better part of valor, took to his heels and fled, leaving me master of the field. I heard his retreating footsteps along the passage, and the slam of the hall door behind him, and narrowly escaped a pistol bullet aimed by the prostrate man. "Left-handed, or by the gods you would not have escaped me"!" he ejaculated with a grin of anguish, while he strove to rise, but fell back again, weak with pain. I picked up the pistol which had fallen from his hand and threw it out of reach, then hastened to release old Isaac, who was bound to his chair with a strong cord. This cord served to secure Storoff, who, wounded as he was, made a struggle for freedom, and when he was rendered innocuous gnashed his teeth and glared at me in a way that made me thankful lie could do no more.

I soon had in a couple of policemen, and we conveyed Storoff to the nearest police station in a four-wheeler. He was silent and moody, but offered no sort of resistance when he was unbound and examined by the doctor. His arm and leg were both broken, and he was at once admitted to the prison infirmary and put to bed, his wounds were properly treated, and he was left to ruminate, while two policemen kept guard over him. When well enough to appear in court he was tried, found guilty of burglary with assault, and condemned to a, lengthened term of penal servitude. But he managed to escape from Dartmoor before a year was over, and found his way to Paris, where, under an alias, he made himself conspicuous in several Anarchist plots. At last he disappeared altogether. About a week after my encounter with the burglars, as I was sitting .one evening in my study, the servant ushered in a, visitor whom, when he had divested himself of a, large flapping hat. I recognised as Isaac Strauss. "Gratitude brings me here," he said, taking the seat I indicated, " for I have never yet had the opportunity, sir. of thanking you for your prompt assistance the other night, ani the courageous way in which you defended me. Perhaps you will be surprised to hear that the unfortunate man who was taken prisoner there is of the same blood and faith as myself. He is, indeed, my sister's son. Ah. you start, and indeed" it is with shame I confess that one so near to me should have wrought such evil. My sister Catharine married a Polish Jew. I never gave my consent to the match, for I knew Storoff to be of a dangerous and intriguing disposition, and that he had been mixed up with several plots. However, my sister married him, and they had one child, this man Felix, than whom no more turbulent character ever walked the earth. He has been' in collusion with all the Socialistic disturbers of the peace ever since he has been in England, and has besought me time and again to furnish him with large sums of money for carrying out his nefarious schemes. These I have resolutely refused, hence his attack upon me. He is destined to come to a bad end and a violent death. This was foretold by a soothsayer at his birth, and his whole course points that way. He quarrels with everyone, and his friends and accomplices one year are his foes and betrayers the next." Thus, old Isaac, and I omit the strwr German flavor he gave to his speech. At taking leave he put into my hand a cask-it, saying: " Vor your vair prite, and may you haf many liappy years together." The casket contained a magnificent circlet of diamonds, which Kathleen wore on her wedding day, and a fairer bride, they said, never walked from the church on her husband's arm. It was a year after our marriage when the papers announced the recovery from the Seine of the body of the notorious Anarchist, Felix Storoff. His body was pierced by seventeen dagger thrusts, but in spite of this, and the fact that it had been in the water several days, it was still recognisable. A paper found in his bedroom at Montmartre, and which had been overlooked by the murderers, who had evidently searched his rooms, gave the police, a clue to many of his quondam confederates, who were forthwith arrested. On interrogation one of them confessed that lies had struck Storoff the first blow, and that the wounded man, declared a traitor to their common cause, had then been finished by other members of the band. The paper's also pointed to a house where Storoff had lived during his sojourn in London, and although the exact locality was not mentioned, the detectives Mere able, after considerable search, to find it. It was the very next to Sir Henry Moreton's, consequently, in my first encounter with Storoff, I was divided only by a, wall from Kathleen. In the cellar dynamite was found, also the materials necessary for making bombs. Had I not been led fo the right, spot iu the very nick of time what fearful tragedies might not this dangerous man have perpetrated !