MURDER WILL OUT.

Evening Star, Issue 11251, 26 May 1900, Page 2

MURDER WILL OUT.

By Edgar Pickering. {Author of ‘A Stout English Bowman,’ etc.) SYNOPSIS OF INSTALMENTS I. TO XV. i Dr Mortimer and his friend Sylvester Courtney are interrupted in a confidential talk by the advent of a patient hurt in a street. Before he leaves tne house his host learns'that his patient has lost a pocket book to which he attaches a high value, and the reader perceives that Dr Mortimer is much angered on learning the stranger's name. Ihe doctor is about to take up a. lucrative foreign appointment, for he is engaged to be married, whilst his practice is worth but little, and his expectations from a rich uncle seem likely to be disappointed by the advent of an Australian cousin. Messrs Scripp and Morder, the eminent lawyers, are in difficulties, and their client, eccentric Squire Gifford, Dr Mortimer’s uncle, is the unconscious moans of bringing about a crisis in the firm’s affairs. Dr Mortimer, called to Marlhilrst by a letter from his uncle, meets Madge Selby, his fiancee, in company with Dorman (the Squires Australian nephew), whom, Inter, he warns not to continue his intimacy with the Selbys. Squire Gifford tells Mortimer that bo is not satisfied with Dorman, and makes a generous proposal. Mr Selby loses half his fortune in the Great Central Bank crash, and in the illness that follows he is carefully attended by Dr Mortimer. Jarvis Dorman develops a mysterious connection with Messrs Scripp and’ Morder, in which their clerk, Jean Kedav, plays a prominent part. Squire Gifford makes his will, and Dorman makes love to Madge Selby. Mortimer finds Dorman insulting Madge, and the two men come to blows, Dick proving the stronger. The Squire again presses Mortimef to marry an heiress, Judith Glitch ; and Dorman has a. secret interview with Jean Kedar, who is the bearer of the Squire’s will. The Squire tells Mortimer that he shall be his heir if he will marry Miss Gutch; they discuss this point; Mortimer goes to see his fiancee ; a report comes that the Squire is murdered ! The inquest reveals nothing. By the will, which is produced by Mr Scripp, the estate is left to Jarvis Dorman. Mortimer visits Madge for the first time since the murder, and, with strange manner and hesitating speech, she says she does not desire to see him again. The' secret of Squire Gifford’s death did not transpire, and whilst Dorman, his heir, goes on to the Continent, Mortimer takes a foreign appointment. Madge Selby advertises for a post as companion, and agrees to go to a Madame Duval. Out in Bastia Dr Mortimer meets with a. serious adventure which threatens to prematurely end his life. He is, however, rescued by a native girl, Teresa Brasco. Sylvester Courtney saves Jean Kedar from a bud accident, and in doing so gains some important information, which is supplemented by his discovery of the coat which had been torn at Whyteleas on the night of the murder. Madge goes to France with Madame Duval, and is taken on board a yacht, which proves to be owned by Jarvis Dorman, and to be bound for Bastia.

CHAPTER XVI. With the blood flowing quickly from his gashed arm, Dick hung above the dread abyss, clinging to the branch which he had seized, and knowing that at any moment it might break. Above him soared an eagle circling in the yellow sky, now and again sweeping post the face of the precipice, nearer each time. How long he had held on in that awful position he could not have told, for all his faculties centred on that dragging branch. When that gave way the end of all his troubles and sorrows would come, and he began wondering what tire drop into space would be like. Then a cry from above made him bend his head to get a glance upward, and Teresa was seen on the edge of the path. How Dick regained a place of safety he could never say exactly, but he did so after a struggle that seemed to last for hours and yet 'was over in a minute. Teresa had stretched over the verge of the precipice and he had clutched her extended arm, and in some fashion had scrambled to the path, where he staggered to the rock on the other side, seeing Teresa mistily. It was she who had saved his life; she who had witnessed his encounter with Fabiano Arrighi. who, as the Englishman fell, had disappeared, “ By Jove ! you're a plucky girl,” he said, recovering himself. “ I’ll thank you presently. Get that case out of my pocket. The one I used yesterday. I must stop this confounded bleeding somehow.” With a quick perception of the emergency. Teresa took out the case of instruments and dressings from Mortimer’s pocket and opened it. “ It's a nuisance that it’s my right arm,” growled Dick. “ Uncork that little bottle,” and he pointed to one that held a- restorative. Then ho bid her pull off his coat and rip his shirt sleeve, exposing the deep gash from which the blood welled more slowly now, and he looked grimly at it. “ 1 can help you.” said Teresa quietly, as she bound her handkerchief round the wound.’ ‘‘Tell mo what to do.” “ You’re a pluckier woman than I’ve met in Corsica yet,” he answered. “ No ; the handkerchief won’t stop the bleeding. Get a. stone ; put it on my arm—there. Now tie the handkerchief so that it presses the stone,” and she followed his instructions deftly, the flow of blood ceasing as the pressure came on the brachial artery. He had been too occupied, too greatly concerned by the events of the past quarter of an hour, to give much heed to his preserver, but as she tied the knot in the handkerchief, holding one end of it between her white teeth, to get a firmer grip on the stone, Mortimer cast an admiring glance into her face, noting its clear beauty and purity. There was a sudden gush of deep gratitude in his heart that words could have but ill expressed, and the keen appreciation that only a brave, true nature can feel for bravery in others. And there in the glaring sunshine, amid the eternal quiet of the mountains, Teresa and he stood alone as far away from the world practically as the circling eagle that had just sailed majestically to its eerie,' she waiting for whatever he might need of help from her. “ Get out a needle and some silk,” ho said, “and I’ll make shift to put a stitch in this cut that Mr Arrighi has giyen me.” “ But you cannot use your left hand,” replied Teresa, as she threaded a needle. “ Let me do that.” “It will want a little courage. You’ve never sewn flesh.” “ I have the courage,” she answered, showing her white teeth again; “ and I understand.” “Very well; don’t go too deep. Two stitches will suffice,” and he held out his arm, Teresa never wincing from her task, and in a moment or two she had drawn the edges of the ugly wound together, afterwards dressing it as Mortimer directed her. “I shall never forget this day,” he said when the operation was over. “ I don’t exactly know what name to call you, Teresa, but you’re the kind of woman that heroines are made of”—and at this she laughed gently. “I feared for your safety, and followed you. Fabiano is a coward, and fled when I called out.” She had taken (he handkerchief which covered her glossy hair, making a sling in which Dick rested his wounded arm. “To say that I'm very, very grateful, Teresa,” he said, “ doesn’t express half my feeling. You've saved me from a horrible death, and have done me a service that not many women would have had nerve to do. You shan’t find that I forget; but I’d best be getting down into the town now. Follow the directions I’ve given you about Cesario. and I’ll come up here to-morrow. He will recover, I promise you that. And I must find out some way by which I can repay yon for your courage and kindness.” '‘lt is sufficient that you are olive,” answered Teresa, letting her .gentle eyes rest on his face for an instant. Then without another word she turned away, going up to the hut, and he slowly down the i ath into Bastia. He hpd meant going up to the goatherd’s hut next day, but his wound was too painful to allow of bis doing so. A burning fever consumed him,.and although he tried to rise from his bed the attempt failed. He lay car chine with thirsty waiting, for the arrival

of the woman servant to her Usual duties ; but there was a religious festival going on, and she had failed to put in any appearance. He was only able to stagger into the sitting room and get some lemonade, after which the hours past in a confused wav, and towards night He became delirious. He had had an indefinite idea of preparing sohie remedies for himself, but it was impossible to collect his thoughts sufficiently, and he lay tossing, until a ghost-ridden sleep canids m which he was struggling on the mountain path again, watching a circling eagle with a mute horror that he could not escape, through the hot night he lav, until the dawn was creeping into the room, making familiar objects take' strange shapes and meaning, and presently all sense of time it place went from him. Dick opened his eyes with a consciousness that someone was in the room. There was a delicious cool feeling on his forehead and a fan was waving the ait over his face. He was sensible now, and lookuig up he saw Teresa, who was bv the side ot the bed. “By Jove !” he said softly; “I. wonder *°\ v ’ .IfJ tins sort of thing Las been going ou. __ Then oloud, “Teresa.” ° “Yes, I am here.” <. t- - vo ’?’ 11 kindly explain,” said Dick. I ve an idea that I’ve been ill.” “ Yes. You have been lying ill for two days. Longer than that, for it is the afternoon of the third day since vou visitedi Cesano. * ( “I wonder where I’ve been to all that time? My spirit, I mean. Now, tell me v.diat s happened.” T ou did not return, and I feared that you were ill, continued Teresa. “ Cesario was better, and a Sister of Mercv had come to tiie hut to nurse him. Then I resolved to go to your house. You did not know me and you were alone.” ’ “ Aud you've been nursing me'” exclaimed Dick. “Teresa, I shall never be able to show all the gratitude I feel ” “And now you are well again,” she answered, I must leave you.” “I'm still very ill,” he replinl. “I haven t au ounce of strength to move, lever pulls a fellow down awfully. And .1 m thirstier than I ever was in my life before. J Teresa smiled; “Paulina lias returned. Mie will nurse you now.” “ Oh, hang Paulina !” he cried. “ She iiasn t an idea of nursing, and drops all sons of things in my food when I’m well. Heaven knows what she will do now I’m “But I will inquire every day.of Paulina a .f a yoll ‘ 1 am ncc( led no longer.” „ ‘ A good sort Paulina is,” grumbled Dick. fclie cares no more about me than if I were that tree out there. And as to dressing my arm, she hasn’t the nerve of a cat.” .}■ j U m an dress your arm yourself now,” replied Teresa smiling again. That means that yon’vdf been attending to it. I can’t say more than ‘ Thank you? but if you could only know all that my thank you means. Teresa ! Have I been rambling m my talk, whilst the fever was on me?” Yes. Aon uttered many names. One much oftener than the others.” “What was it?" i \ did not heed,” and a shadow crossed her face. “ Don't you ever believe a word anyone says when they are delirious, Teresa:’’ he answered after a little pause. “It’s usu- ! u , 0 , re ti l3ll gabbling nonsense. “tjß. I should like to know that name.” ‘ I think,” and Teresa spoke veiy softly, her eyes downcast, “ that it was a woman’s name-- and that you loved her.” \ ' Madge.” Dick whispered the name* to himself, but' Teresa heard it, and there was a longer pause than before, ended bv nor moving to tho door.” I hope you will be well again soon,” she said, m a harder tone than she bad spoken in yet. There may be someone who would cricve after you,” and then she summoned the servant Paulina, whose face, like a shrivelled olive, made doubly pleasant the memory of Teresa’s, as Dick lay helplessly on his hard bed. * 13 It was a good week before he was able to get about, and his first act was to buy the prettiest trinket in Bustia. Teresa had told him the name of the street where she' lived with the fisherman Nasone and his wife, and thither Dick made his way, purchasing a bouquet as he went. This and the trinket were for Teresa, whom he found busily employed at her lace work, whilst Die fisherman s wife bustled about the room. There was a troubled look in Teresa’s eyes he noticed, and her greeting was colder than he had expected. Cesano was much’ better, she told him, and then she glanced 1 at Dick’s arm still in a sling. “Nearly well, Teresa,” he said. “You’d make an excellent doctor. See. I’ve brought’ you your fee,” and be held out tho pretty’ present he had brought for her, at sight of which she drew back. “No!” she exclaimed. “I need no paying, Signor. I will not take this.” ([ As a memento,” he answered. “I have that already,” she said. “One that none can ever take from me,” and he, urged her no more. But I will have • these flowers,” continued Teresa. “See, are they not beautiful, Mere Seraphino?” she cried, turning' to the housewife, who said “ Magnifique!”, and held up her brown hands in admiration. “ Fabiauo has been in Bastia again ” Teresa said quietly. " There is only one way by which I can escape him. I must leave Corsica.” 1 “Don’t do anything rashly.” answered Diciv. There may come a chance for me to help you presently, Teresa.” But she ; did not reply. CHAPTER XVII. Too greatly astonished to speak, Madge stood gazing at Jarvis Dorman for a few moments, as he remained watching her from the door of the saloon. Vou appear surprised to see me, Miss .Selby,” ho said, breaking the silence at last. ‘Allow me to welcome you on board the Yarra.” “Where is Mr Ashton? This is his ■yacht,” exclaimed Madge, and he laughed. “ I don’t sec tho need of keeping up that fiction any longer,” he answered. “I am Mr Ashton.” “ Vou !” cried Madge. “ What does it all mean, Mr Dorman? I eftme here with Madame Duval expecting to be .the guest of. Mr Ashton and his wife.” " So Madarao has invented a Mr Ashton?”, ho laughed. “Clever woman. I presume she has not enlightened you yet?” Madge drew a long breath. There was some strange plot against her, and a feeling of sudden dango- caused her to move to the other end of the saloon.” “ Why have I been brought on board your yachtshe demanded. “ What has Madame Duval to enlighten me upon?” Miss Selby ’ —and his face grew cold and hard—“it will be best for you and me to come to au understanding. There can be no better time for my speaking out than the present. Aon have been brought on board my yacht because I could win you in no other way ; because I love vou and vou refuse to listen to me; because I ain determined that you shall be my wife.” “ Then Madame Duval is your tool!” answered Madge, summoning all her courage. - 1 Madame is whatever you may please to call her. Miss Selby, I entreat you not to' think too hardly of me. You left no other way open for me to win you, and they say that ‘ All’s fair in love and war.’ ” “It is too monstrous!” exclaimed Madge" losing her composure at last, and speaking angrily. “I will appeal to your captain against this infamous trick that has beenplayed on me. One cannot act as vou have Mr Dorman, without being punished. I will call every man on board your vacht to mv protcction.” v “ My dear Afiss Selby,” replied Dorman, “ you arc the very last person, if I judge \ou rightly, to moke a scene. You are too sensible for that, and I put it plainly to you that you have nothing to comnlam of to my captain. What protection do' you need, other than you possess in yourself’ What can you say to Captain Brown? You come here as Madame Duval’s companion ; as her servant. She is my guest, and I can assure you that Brown is not a man of sentiment. He will consider you to be an hysterical sort of person, and pay not the slightest heed tp your story.” “ You have plotted very'well, Mr Dorman,” she answered. ■= “And I am,-as.you tell me ‘ quite defenceless. It is useless for me to say all that I have in my mind to say, except this : that I warn you of the consequences of this deception you have played on me.” “I have ho.fear of them,” ho said scornfully, “and I am quite content to risk anything, ga that I may Jtutks jcu.£iv wife, j*

it not a proof of my love that I have dared to bring this about? Is it-not a further proof that I am not the man to go back from my purpose?” “and I have been tricked and duped by •tliiS' ' Madame Duval” answered Madge. “.Yes, I see it all now. Her enticement by money, the story of her invitation to Cowes, and she sank down on the saloon couch, ,burying her face in her hands. ."I beg you not to repulse me, Miss Selby—pledge,” he went on. “I offer you all I have in the world to give, my name and fortune. Why have you repelled me?” “ I will not suffer you to speak to me in this way!” she cried. “ Nor will I remain to hear you. You have explained the meanness and treachery by which I have been placed in your power; you have not disguised that, at any rate.” : “ You are judging me unjustly,” ho answered.. “I love you, Madge, and would ; on l.V use the power I may possess for your ; happiness. Think how much I have dared in. bringing you here—yes, yes, I know you will upbraid me, but I’ll trust to time to help me.” “ I will not answer you,” said Madge, angered afresh at his words. “ And at least I have the right to be left alone.” “ I will not intrude upon you,” he replied. “We are out of sight of hind by this time. It is something to think of,” and there was •a vague menace in his looks. Left alone, Madge remained for some moments almost bereft of the faculty of realising her position. The thought of the way in which she had been duped, the incredible chicanery of Madame Duval, and the helplessness to escape from the toils in which she was involved seemed to overwhelm her; but as she sat thinking the past became clear to her mind. The advertisement had been brought to her notice by Dorman. It was he who had sent the paper, he who Lad planned and schemed,his ihoney that Madame had spent so lavishh r . The very dress that Madge was wearing had been paid for by this man, whom she honestly hated and despised. Hitter and humiliating as her position was, the whole business was too fhelodramatic and impossible to be successful ; yet there was a real danger staring her in the face. Jarvis Dorman was to be feared, and in what manner or when this voyage would end she had no idea. Even to appeal to the captain of the yacht for help and protection would do her no service. Dorman had planned too cunningly for that. She was no more than an attendant on his guest, Madame Duval; and Captain Brown —a. hard-headed, unimaginative Scotchman, if Madge could have known that—would only regard her as an excitable woman, and give no. credence to such an improbable story as hers. Mr Dorman was his master for the time being, under whoso orders he acted; and however much Madge might complain Captain Brown could do nothing. All this she reasoned out, but in wh«t way to act for the best she laiew not. She would escape from the yacht at the first place which it touched ; but in a foreign land, almost without money, what could she do? Then a faint groan came from the berth next the side of the saloon where Mad,ge was‘sitting, and Madame’s voice making a feeble appeal for brandy was heard. Madge was too angrr, too indignant, to respond to the request, but she went into the berth, where in a confused heap Madame lay groaning. •

“You have played your part verv well, Madame Duval,” she said, “ and Air Dorman has been good enough to open my eyes to your character.” “ Mon Dieu !” moaned Madame. “My chaile, I die of this diable of .a sheep. I hear nothing ; I sec hut so an cry a look at me that I tremble. Where is the brandy?” “You wicked woman !” exclaimed Madge. “To think how you have deceived me! 1 see everything now. Where am I being taken to?” “Sweet chaile,” responded Madame faintly. “I tell you nil if I live. lam at the point to die now, is it not? I have been decepted also,” and then she appeared to suddenly sink into insensibility, refusing or unable to speak further, and, going into the saloon, Aladge made a resolute effort to regain her composure. Dorman did not appear again that day, and through it Madge kept within the saloon, waited upon by the stewardess, and employed the time in reading. Her first anger had passed, and the certainty of escaping, from the unpleasant position , in, which she found herself gave some contentment to endure it.. It was not until it become too dark to read that she quitted the saloon for the berth opposite Madame’s, and, lulled by the gentle motion of the yacht, soon full asleep. The sun was shining brilliantly when she awoko, and for a few momenta lay glancing round at her novel environments, which were the most luxurious and comfortable imaginable. Then the stewardess brought her a cup of tea, and asked in what manner she could assist Madge, tolling her that Madame Duval had been inquiring for her companion. “ Do you know where we are going?” asked Madge. “ 1 think it is to the Mediterranean,” replied the stewardess. “ The yacht has been provisioned for a long cruise, my Husband tells me, and we shall not call anywhere before reaching Algeria.” “ Algeria!”—and Aladge’s heart gave a leap. Would this woman, who was a perfect stranger to her, give any heed to her story? and she hesitated. There would be time enough to tell it presently, she thought, and so she would keep silence for the present. “ Aladame Duval is almost dead,” said the stewardess laughing. “ She looks fifty years older than when she came aboard. That’s the way with these Frenchwomen. She has been begging for you to go to her.” There was nothing to be gained by keeping herself in seclusion, and Madge was allowing her interest in the yacht and voyage to overcame her resentment against the plotters who had enticed her from England. She had not the slightest -fear of Jarvis Dorman, nor doubt of herself, and even at Algeria he could obtain no real power over her. So, dressing herself quickly, discarding once and for ever the yachting costume bought in Winchester, she went into Madame Duval’s berth.

“Oh my chaile!” exclaimed Aladame, whose complexion had undergone a sea change. “ This misery that I suffer! And you smile.” “ I can’t help it.” replied Madge. “ You’ve brought all the misery on yourself. However, I don’t suppose anything will matter that I say now, but there are those in England who will call you and your employer to account,” “ Parbleu!”—and Aladame rocked her dishevelled head. “ But your account! For what, my chaile? lam so happy that you smile, why not? Regard now,” and she struggled into a sitting posture with the poor anchors and flags dotting the heap she presented. “At’sieur Dorman call to me himself, Al’sieur Ashton,” she began, moving her finger up and down solemnly, “and lie invite to this so horrible voy-age. Bien. Do you upbraid me that he so love you? Can I command not to love? No. Then we travel together, you and I, and I also regard you as a daughter; is it not? Resign then yourself to so great pleasure and comfort of this sheep, to me most hor-r-r-ible. But I have presently my health, aud then we veesit a country where it shall be always Rummer. Am I not your friend? Your employer, who also love my conmanion so greatly? Forgive me, my chaile.” “Did you not know that Air Dorman had planned all this?” demanded Afadge; “Mint he sent me to you at Alorton St. Jude?” “ Not so,” cried Aladame. “ Unjust chaile that you are. There is no plonning. I know nothing of M’sieur Dorman, but that lie love you. If you arc unhappy I will comfort vou ; if you weep I will the same weep ; I will protect vou ; and if you cannot, love Al’sieur we will together return to England. See what I promise you.”

“You promise that at tTie first opportunity we will go back to England?”' said Madge. “Yes.” replied Madame. “But M’sieur’s love is profound. He adores you, mv chnlle. M’sieur Borman have great riches that you ask anything, and he cast it to your foot He will be slave.” “ And you will leave the yacht at the first place we reach?” answered Madge, not heeding Mndame’s speech. “ If it should be possible, we would leave before see the sainted..earth,” cried Madame. “Forgive me, my chaile; am I not your guardian?” .aad £^ic.nbM

so energetically, that Madge refrained from denouncing her. Moreover, it would be an unwise policy, to make an enemy of Madame, for without her, and in a foreign land, Madge’s case would be worse than at the present.

Madame Duval’s rejuvenation was performed in secret, And it must have been nothing less than witchcraft which transformed her from a, human wreck into the ogling, tripping little lady who came on deck some two hours later. Madge was standing beside Captain Brown watching the distant coast of France, and inquiring how soon the x area would reach her destination, when Madame made her reappearance, chatting and smiling, in her nautical costume, that caused the Woft,ther-beaton old Scotchman a laugh some hours later when he had assimilated the picture she presented. Then the steward came with champagne, and Madame’s horror of the “ dlable ” of a ship changed into admiration of her and her owner, who so treated them “ au prince. ’*

It was not until the evening that Mr Dorman appeared in the saloon, where Madge was alone, and, unable to escape the interview, she went through it bravely. * Long and eloquently he pleaded, urging her to listen to his suit. That he loved her she never doubted ; but nil her love was given to Dick Mortimer, and the effrontery of this man, by whom she had been entrapped, brought every tender memory and her lover's face vividly before her mental sight; Though she and Dick had been separated, and that dark secret in her breast kept them apart, her deep, true love had never changed or dimmed ; and to think that this man, Jarvis i/orman, dared to speak of love for her ivftß an affront before which even his plot against her liberty seeihed trifling. I will not accept your refusal I” he exclaimed. ‘‘l cannot live without you, Madge. Riches oan bring me neither pleasure nor satisfaction, unless you share them with me.” <i ** T°. u haVO my answer,” she replied, and it is useless to urge me to change it, Mr Dorman. You say you love me. and yet you are making me miserable and unhappy. Set me ashore with Madame Duval and l am willing to forgive you all that you have done.” Then a change came in his manner. “ There are places in the vrorld where I can force you to marry me—where our marriage can be performed although you protest and resist,” he answered. “Itis to one of these that we are sailing, and I tell you So much of my plans that you may behave as a sensible, reasonable woman. Madame Duval will leave us at the first convenient moment, and you will remain with me. It is something to consider.” There was no mistaking his thi'eat, and there were no means of escaping from him. For the first time a fear for the future took possession of her heart It was useless to beg for her release from this determined, unscrupulous man, she felt certain, hut her pride prevented her from showing the dread she felt at his threatening words, and although she mistructed Madame heartily even her presence was a protection. She was careful never to be alone with him again after this, and Dorman, aa though contented for tho time in knowing her to be in his power, was careful not to increase the anger which ho was conscious Madge entertained against him. But that ho would break her spirit, compel her to listen favorably to him, and eventually overcome her opposition to her union with him he never allowed himself to doubt. Once in Algeria .she would he defenceless, and then the reward of all his efforts would be reaped. f to he continued.)