THE DAY OF TEMPTATION,

Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 2901, 10 January 1911, Page 2

THE DAY OF TEMPTATION,

A STORY OF TWO CITIES, BT WILLIAM LB QUEDX, Author of "If Sinners Entice Thee," •A Secret Service," "Guilty Bonds," etc., etc., etc. ALL WIGHTS RESERVED. f ART 3. CHAPTER V. Tristram at Home. Most of the London papers, from the quiescent Globe to the versatile Sl-ar, that evening gave verbatim accounts of the inquest, and in every quiet rabarban road the hoarse, strident shout of the running newsman awakened the echoes with the cry 4 Criterion mystery! Startlin' statement. Verdict!' The jury, after long deliberation, had found an open verdict of ' found dead.' In the opinion of the twelve Strand tradesmen there was insufficient evidence to justify the verdict ol murder, therefore they contented themselves in leaving the matter in the hands of the police. They had, in reality, accepted the evidence of the analyst in preference to the theory of the doctor, and had publicly expressed a hope that th at Scotland Yard would spire no pains in their endeavours to discover the deceased's fellowtraveller, if he did not come forward voluntarily and establish her identity. This verdict practically put an end to the mystery created by the sensational sciison of the evening Press, for although it was not one of 'natural causes,' actual murder was not alleged. Therefore, amid the diversity of the next day's news, the whirling world of London forgot, as it ever forgets, the sensation of the previous day. All interest had been lost in the curious circumstances surrounding the death of the unknown Italian girl in the most crowded of London's thoroughfares .by reason of this verdict of the jury. The police had taken up the matter actively, but all that had been discovered regarding the identity of the dead woman was that her name was probably Vittorinn—beyond that, absolutely nothing Among the millions who had followed the ravsUry with avidity in the papers one man alone recognised the woman by her description, and with satisfaction learnt how ingeniously her death had been encompassed.

That man was the eminently respectable doctor in the remote rural village of Lyddington. With his breakfast untouched before him he sat in his cosy room eagerly devouring the account of the inquest, then when he had finished, he cast the paper aside, exclaiming aloud in Italian : 4 Dio! What good fortune! I wonder how it was accomplished! Somebody else, beside ourselves, apparently, feared her presence in England. Arnoldo is in Livorno by this time, and bas had his journey for nothing.' Then, with his bead thrown back in his chair, he gazed up at the panelled ceiling deep in thought.

4 Who, I wonder, could that confounded Englishman have been who escorted her to London, and who left ber so suddenly ? Some jackanapes or other, I suppose. And who's the major? He's evidently English, too, wh ••ever he is. Only fancy, on the ver nigyht we discussed the desirability of the girl's death some unknown person obligingly did the work for us.' Then he paused, set liis teeth, and frowning, added, 4 But that injudicious letter of Egisto's may give us some trouble. What an idiot to write like that. 1 hope the police won't trace him. If hey do, it will be awkward—devilish awkward.'

And he rose, paced the room several times, halting at last before the window i' d gazing across the level lawn fresh after a cooling shower during the night. A few minutes later the door opened, aiid a younger man, slim and pale-faced, entered, and wished him 4 Good morning.'

4 No breakfast ?' thf man, his assistant, inquired, glancing at the table. ' What's the matter?'

• Liver, my boy, liver,' Mai vane answered with his usual good-humourec smile. 4 1 shall go to town to-day. 1 may be absent the whole week, but there's nothing really' urgent. Thai case of typhoid up at Craig's Lodge is going on well. You've seen it once, haven't you ? • Yes. You're treating it in the usual way, I suppose V ' Of course,' and the doctor advancing to the table poured out a cup of roffe* and drank it, at the same time calling to his man Goodwin to park his bag, and be ready to drive him to the London train at ten-twenty.

His assistant being called to the surgery a few minutes later, Malvano sat down at bis writing-table, hastily scribbled a couple of telegrams, which he folded and carefully placed in his pocketbook, and half an hour latei drove out of the quiet, old-world village, with its ancient church spirt and long, straggling street of thatched cottages, on his way to catch the train.

Beside the faithful Goodwin he sat in silence the whole way, for many things he had read that morning sorely puzzled him. It was true that the lips of Vittorina were sealed in death, but the letter signed ' Egisto,' discovered by the police in her dressing-bag, still caused him the most intense anxiety. At the same hour that Malvano had been reading the account of the previous day's inquest, Frank Tristram was sitting in his handsome, well-furnished chambers in St. James street. He had breakfasted early, as was his wont, and had afterwards started his habitual cigarette. The room in which he sat was a typical bachelor's quarters, liilec! with all sort* of curios and bric-a-brac which its owner had picked up in the various corners of the earth he ii<tl visited l>earing despatches from tht Foreign Office at Whitehall. Upon the floor lav a couple of Sne tiger skins, presents from an Indian rajah, while around were inlaid coff.*e stools and tr«»vs of beaten brass from Constantinople, t. beautiful screen from Cairo, a ran: statuette from Rome, quaint picture ■nd time-yellowed ivories from thcuriosity shops of Florence and Vienna.

savage weapon* from Africa and South America, and a bright shining samovar from St. Petersburg. In a corner stood the much-worn travelling bag which he kept always ready packed, ami hanging upon a nail above the mantelshelf was the blue ribbon with its silvei greyhound, the badge which carried its owner everywhere with the greatest amount of swiftness and the least amount of personal discomfort. Ovei the fireplace, too, were many autographed portraits of British ambassadors and distinguished foreign statesmen, together with those of one or two ladies of this constant traveller's acquaintance.

As he lay back in a wicker deck chair, the same in which he had taken his after-luncheon nap on board many an ocean steamer, well-shaven, smart, and spruce, his legs stretched out lazily, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, he sighed deeply; 4 Italy again!' he grumbled to himself as he took up a scribbled note on official paper. ' Just my infernal luck. Italy is the very last place I want to visit just now, yet, by Jove! the chief sends me a message to start this morning,' and rousing himself he stretched his arms and glanced wearily at the little carriage clock. The discarded newspaper on the floor recalled all that he had read half an hour before.

' I wonder,' he went on, 4 1 wonder if anyone on Charing Cross platform spotted me with the girl?' Then he remained silent for a moment. ' No. I oughtn't to go to Italy; it's far too risky. There's plenty of time yet for Marvin to be called. I must feign illness, and await my chance to go on a long trip to Pekin, Teheran, or Washington. Yes, a touch of fever will be a good excuse.' But, after a moment's further consideration, he added, ' Yet after all, to be ill will be to arouse suspicion. No, I'll go,' and lie pressed the electric bell. In answer to the summons his mauservant, a smart tall private of Dragoons, entered.

4 A foreign telegram form, Smayle,' he said.

The man obeyed with military promptitude, and his master a minute later scribbled a few hasty words on the yellow, form, securing a berth in the 'hrough sleeping-car leaving Paris that night for Rome. 4 Take this to the telegraph office in liegeut street,' he said. 'l'm leaving this morning, and if anybody calls tell ihcm I've gone to Washington, to Timi'uetoo, or to the devil, if you like—tuyhow, I shan't be back for a month, i'ou understand ?' 4 Yes, sir,' answered the man, with a smile. 4 Shall I forward any letters ?' 1 Yes, Postc Restante, Leghorn.' At that moment the bell of the outer door rang out sharply, and Smayle went in response, returning a moment later, saying: ' Major Maitland, sir.' 4 Show him in,' answered his master, in a tone of suppressed excitement. The man disappeared, and a second later the major entered jauntily, his silk hat slightly askew, extended his well-gloved hand, greeted his friend profusely with the easy air of a man about towu, and sank into one of the comfortable saddle-bag chairs.

4 Well, my dear fellow,' he exclaimed, as soon as they were alone. 4 Why do you risk London after the events of the other night? I never dreamed that 1 should find you at home.'

4 I'm leaving for Italy again by the eleven train,' the other answered. 4 Have you read this morning's paper ?'

4 Of course I have,' answered the major. 4 It's an inft rn illy awkward bit of business for both of us, I'm afraid. That introduct on .it the station was the greatest mistake possible, for the cabman will no doubt identify us. Besides, he overheard you address me by Rink. 4 But the police have no suspicion,' Tristram observed. 'At present we are safe enough.' 4 If I were you I wouldn't arrive or depart from Charing Cross for a few months at least,' the major suggested. • The business is fur too ugly for us to run any unnecessary risks, you know.' 4 No, I shall make a habit of departing from London Bridge and arriving at Waterloo. I never have more than hand baggage with me.' ' Where are you going to-day ?'

4 To Leghorn agitin. Bight into the very midst of the enemy's camp,' he laughed.

4 Suppose any facts regarding the mystery have been published in the local papers, don't you think you'd >taud a good chance of being arrested ? The police in Italy are very arbitrary.'

' They dare not arrest mc with despatches in my possession. I have immunity from arrest while on official business,' Her Majesty's messenger answered.

' That may be so,' replied the major, electing a cigar from the box at his elbow uninvited, and slowly clipping off the end with the punch on his watch chain. ' But you'd have a considerable difficulty in persuading the police of either London or Leghorn that you were not the amiable young man who arrived at Charing Cross with Vittorina.'

'And you would have similar difficulty, my dear old chap, in convincing the detectives that you were not the person who waited for us on the platform,' the other replied, without removing his cigarette. ' You're so weli known about town that if I were you I should leave London at once, and Dot take a return ticket.' ' 1 leave to-night.' ' By which route?' 'By a rather roundabout one,' the major answered, slowly striking a vesta. 'The ordinary channel passage might disagree with me, you know, so I shall travel this evening to Hull, and sail tomorrow morning for Ciiristiania. Thence I shall get down into Germany, via Hamburg.' ' A very neat way of evading observation,' observed the captain in a tone of admiration.

| ' I booked mv nassarre a fortnight ago, ir. case i might require it,' the elder mac observed carelessly. ' When one desires to cover one's tracks, the ordinary channel service is worse than useless. I call the Norwegian the circular route. I've used it more than ouce before. They know me on the Wil son liners.' Tristram glanced at his watch. • I must be off in five minutes. What will be your address ?' 'Portland It-fore loag, if I'm not wary,' the other replied, with a grim sunle. ' This is no time for loking, Mait-

land,' Tristram said severely. ' Keserve your witticisms for the warders if you really anticipate chokee. They'll no doubt appreciate them.'

4 Then address me Poste Restante, Brussels. I'm certain to drift to the £urope there sooner or later within the next three months,' the major said.

'Very well, I must go;' and the Queen's messenger quickly obtained his soft gray felt hat and heavy travelling coat from the hall, filled a silver flask from a decanter, took down the blue ribbon, deftly fastened it around his uix-h. uut ot sight beneath his cravat; and snatched up his travelling bag. ' I'm going along to the Foreign Office for despatches. Can I drop you anywhere from my cab ?' he asked, as they made their way down the stairs together.

'No, my dear fellow,' the major replied. 4 I'm going up Bond street.' Then, on gaining St. James's street, the captain sprang into a cab, and shouting a cheery adieu to his friend, drove off on the first stage of his tedious thousand-mile journey to the Mediterranean shore.

CHAPTER VI. In Tcscany. Leghorn, the gay, sun - blanch >d Tuscan watering - place, known to Italians as Livorno, is at its brightest and best throughout the month of August. To the English, save those who reside permanently in Florence, Pisa, or Rome, its beauties are unknown. But those who know Italy and to know Italy is to love it—are well aware that at ' Cara Livorno,' as the Tuscans call it, one can obtain perhaps the best seabathing iu Europe, and enjoy a perfectly delightful summer beside the Mediterranean.

It is never obtrusive by its garish-] ness, never gaudy or inartistic, for it makes no pretension to being a first- : class holiday resort like Nice or Cannes. ; Still, it has its long, beautiful Passeggio extending the whole of the seafront, planted with tamarisks, ilexes, and flowering oleandere; it has its wide airy piazza*, its cathedral, its Grand Hotel, its pensions, and lastly its little open cabs in which one can drive two miles for the not altogether ruinous fare of sixpence halfpenny. Its baths, ingeniously built out upon the bare brown rocks into the clear, bright sea, take the .place of piers at English seaside resorts, and here during the afternoon everybody, clad in ducks and muslins, lounges in chairs to gossip beneath the widespread awnings, while the waves beat with musical cadence up to their very feet. At evening there are gay well-lit cafe chantants and j 'several theatres, while the musical can sit in a stall at the opera and hear the : best works performed by the best Italian artists for the sum of one and threepence. j But life at Livomo is purely Tuscan. , As yet, it is unspoilt by English-speak- ' ing tourists; indeed, it is safe to say ' that not three Cookites set foot within ; the city in twelve months. In its every 1 aspect the town is beautiful. From the j sea it presents a handsome appearance, j with its lines of high white houses with : their red roofs and closed sun-shutters, ! backed by the distant blue peaks of the Lucca mountains and the serrated spurs of the purple Appenines, while on its sun-whitened streets the dress of the Livornesi, with their wellmade skirts of the palest and most delicate tints at' blue, gray, and rose, and with their black silk scarves or lace mantillas twisted about their handsome heads, is the most artistic and tasteful in all fair Italy. The men are happy, careless, laughing fellows, muscular and bronzed by the sun; the women dark-eyed, black-haired, ;>nd notable throughout the length and breadth of Europe for their extreme beauty, and their grace of carriage. Little wonder is it that stifled Florentines, from shopkeepers to princes, unable to bear the heat and mosquitoes beside the muddy Arno, betake themselves to this Wight little wateringplace during August and September, where even if the heat is blazing at midday the wind is delightfully cool at evening, and the sea-baths render life . really worth living. Unless one has , spent a summer in Tuscany it is impossible to realise its stifling breathlessness and its sickening sun-glare. Unless one has lived among the sly, secretive, proud hut carelessly happy Livornesi, has shared their joys, sym- ; pathised with their sorrows, fraternised | with them and noted their little peculiarities, one can never enjoy Li- : vorno.

At first the newly-arrived foreigner is pointed at by all as one apart, and considered an imbecile for preferring Livorno to Florence or Milano; every shopkeeper endeavours to charge him double prices, and for every trifling service performed lie is expected to disburse princely tips. But the Tuscan heart is instantly softened towards him as soon as he seems likely to become a resident; all sorts and conditions of men da him little kindnesses without monetary reward, gr..ve-faced monks will call at his house and leave him presents of luscious fruits and fresh-cut salads; and even his cabman, the last to relent, will one day, with profuse apology for previous extortions, charge only his just fare.

The Italians are indeed an engaging people. It is because they are so ingeuuous, so contented, so self-denying, so polite yet so sarcastic, that one learns to love them so well.

Along the Yianle llegiua Margherita, or esplanade, better known perhaps by lit. ancient name,.the l'asseggio, are a number of baths, all frequented by different grades of society, the one most in vogue among the better-class residents .and visitors being a handsome establishment with cafe and skatingrink attached, kuown as the l'ancaldi. It was here, one evening after the iny>t.Ti..ii n of Vittorina in London, that iwo portions, a man and a woman, were sitting, watching the ever changing hnes of one of those gloriou? blazing sunsets seeu nowhere else in the world but in the Mediterranean. The broad asphalted promenade, covered by its wide canvas awnings, was almost blocked by the hundreds of gailydressed persons sitting on chairs chattering and laughing, and it seemed as though all the notable people of Florence and Bologna had assembled there to enjoy the cool breeze after the terrific heat of the August dav.

Along the Viale the road was sunbleached, the wind-swept tamarisks were whitened by the dust, and the town that day had throbbed and gasped beneath the terrible fiery August glare. But here, at the Pancaldi, was light, happy chatter, in Italian of various dialects of course, a cool refreshing breeze, and that indefinable air of deli-

cious laziness which Italy alone claims as her birthright. The pair sitting together at the end of the asphalted walk, at some distance from the crowd, were young, and to a casual observer, well matched. Unlike all others round about her the woman was of fair complexion, about twenty-two, with that gold-brown hair that Titian loved to paint, eyes of a deep and wondrous blue, a small adorable mouth, the upper lip of which possessed that rare attribute, the true Cupid's bow, a face sweet, almost childlike in expression, perfect in its purity. Her great l>eauty was well set off by her black dress and tiny black bonnet, but from the crown of her head to the toe of her pointed patent-leather shoe there was a chic and daintiness about her which to an English eye stamped her as foreign, even though her face bore no trace ol Italian blood.

Half that gay, gossiping crowd, attracted by her beauty, had already set her down as English, perhaps because her fairness was uncommon in Tuscany, perhaps because they detected by the cut of her companion's clothes that he was English. But Gemma Fanetti was really a native of Florence, a true-bred Tuscan, who knew not half-a-dozen words of English. She could chatter French a little, and could gabble the nasal Milanese dialect, but it always amused her to he taken for an Englishwoman.

Her dress, although black, and only relieved by a little white lace at the throat and wrists, was made in the latest mode and fitted her perfectly. On her slim wrist was a single bangle of diamonds, which flashed in the dying sunlight with all the colours of the spectrum as, in chatting idly with hei companion, she slowly traced semi-circlei on the ground with the point of her black sunshade. Undoubtedly she was strikingly beautiful, for men in twos and threes were passing and repassing, solely for the purpose of obtaining a glance at her. Utterly unconscious of their admiration, ofthe wliisperingsofthoseabout her, or of the glorious wealth of colour spread before them as the sun sank into the gray, glittering sea, causing the islands of Gorgona, Capraja, Elba, and Corsica to loom forth upon the distant horizon like giant shadows rising from those tideless waters, they both chatted on, glancing now and then into e?ch other's eyes. Her companion was about twentyeight, good-looking, dark-eyed, with a merry face and an air of carelessness as, in a suit of cool white ducks with his straw hat tilted slightly over his brow to shade his eyes, he sat back in his chair, joining in her low, well-bred laughter. Truth to tell, Charles Armytage was desperately in love. For seven years, ever since he came of age and succeeded to his father's property in Wales, he had led a wild, rather dissipated life on the continent, and had found himself world-weary before his time. His college career had terminated somewhat ignominiously, for he had been ' seut down ' on account of a rather serious practical joke; he had studied for the bar and failed ; he had done the whole round of the public gaming establishment#, Monte Carlo, Ostend, Spa, Dinant, Namur, and Trouvillc, losing heavily at each; he had idled on the sands of Scheveningen, Hirted on the Promenade des Anglais at Nice, tasted the far-famed oysters at Arcachon, the bouillabaisse at Marseilles, and bathed on San Sebastian's golden sands. Once he had taken a tit into his head to visit all the spas, and beginning with Ryot he made a tour of all the principal ones as far as Carlsbad. Thus had he developed into a thorough cosmopolitan, travelling hither and thither just as his fancy led him, his only hobby being in occasionally writing a short story or travel article for one or other of the Euglish magazines. To be rortinufrt How She Figured It. A young lady of 18 was engaged to bo /narried to a gentleman of 3G. Her mother, having noticed her low spirits for some time, inquired the reason. •'Oh, dear mamma," replied the young lady. " I was thinking about my husband being twice my age." "That's very true, but he's oidy 36." "He's only 36 now, dear mamma; but when I'm 60 " " Well ?" " Oh, dear! why, then he'll be 120 !"

Had Confidence in Him. A rural character, whose reputation for veracity was notoriously bad. was summoned a* a witness in a case where a friend'i interests were involved. When he took the stand the judtre said : " Miiul now, sir. You are sworn to tell the truth, tind if you don't, gaol will be your portion." He took the oath, and then whispered to his friend: "John-, I'm afraid it's all up with you. The judge say* I've got ter tell the truth." "That's all right, Jim," saw! his friend, with great confidence, "I ain't a-worrying about that, 'cos you can't do it." fifteen years ago about 3.000 bicycles were annually produced in England. Last year orer .500,000 were manufactured. A Russian chemist has discovered a most powerful anaesthetic, several thousand tiroes more powerful than chloroform. Experiments are being made at St. Petersburg to sea if it cannot be enclosed in bombs, which would have the extraordinary effect of uuesthetising instead of wounding the enemj.