THE DAY OF TEMPTATION,

Lake Wakatip Mail, Issue 2902, 17 January 1911, Page 2

THE DAY OF TEMPTATION,

A STORY OF TWO CITIES,

BY WILLIAM LB QUBUX, Author of "If Sinners Entice Thee," •A Secret Service," "Guilty Bonds," etc., etc., etc.

ALL WIGHTS RESERVED. PART 4. It was in this restless, dejected mood, that six months before, Armytage had arrived in Florence, and by mere chance had first met the woman who was now beside him. He had one morning been walking along the Via Tornabuoni when he first saw her, accompanied by her servant. Suddenly something fell to the pavement, and an urchin instantly snatched it up. Armytage ran after him, recovered the little golden charm and handed it over to its owner, being rewarded by a few words of thanks. Her grace, her beauty, her soft musical voice rekindled within him a desire for life. Instantly he became fascinated by her wonderous beauty, and she, too, seemed content to chat with him, and to listen to his very faulty Italian, which must have been exceedingly difficult for her to understand.

They did not meet often, but always casually. Once or twice he encountered her cycling in the Cascine, and had joined her in a spin along the shady avenues. They had exchanged cards, but she had never invited him to call, and he, living at a hotel, could scarcely invite her. Italian manners strictly {►reserve the covenantees. No unmarried ady in any Tuscan city, not even a woman of the people, ever dreams of going out alone. Even the poorest girl is chaperoned whenever she takes an airing. Suddenly, just when Armytage found himself hopelessly infatuated, he one morning received an urgent telegram calling him t» London, and he had been compelled to leave without a word of farewell or any knowledge of her address. As soon as he could, he returned to Florence, but the weather had then grown hot, and all who were able had left the sun-bilked city. Then, dis- . appointed at not finding her after an active search, he drifted down to the sea at Livorno, and within three days was delighted to see her strolling in the Passeggio with her ugly, cross-eyed serving-woman. The recognition was mutual, and after one or two meetings she explained that she had a flat for the season in one of the great white houses opposite, and expressed a hope that he would call.

Ho lost no time in renewing the acquaintance, and now 'they were inseparable. He loved her. •Do you know, Gemma,' he was saving seriously, ' when I left Florence in March I left my heart behind —with you.' She blushed slightly beneath her veil, and raising her clear blue eyes to his, answered with a slight sigh in her soft Italian, lisping almost like a child, she spoke so low : ' You say you love me, caro, but can I really believe you ?' 'Of course you can, dearest,' he answered earnestly, speaking her tongue with difficulty, and without any regard for grammatical rules. ' I love no other woman in the whole world but you.'

'Ah !' she exclaimed sadly, gazing blankly, nvay across the sea now glittcrng crimson in the Maze of the dying Jay ' I sometimes fear to love you ixcaus,' you may tire of me one day, ami ;jw back to some woman of your own people.' ' Nevpr.' he answered fervently. 'As 1 told you yesterday, Gemma, I love you; and you, in return, have already given me your pledge.' ' And you can actually love me like this, blindly, without inquiring too deeply into my past?' she whispered, regarding him gravely with those calm, clear eyes which seemed to penetrate his soul.

' Your past matters not to me,' he answered in a deep intense voice under lais breath, so that passers-by should not overhear. 4 1 have asked you nothing; you have told me nothing. 1 love you, Gemma, and trust to your honour to tell Jie what I ought to know.' 'Ah! you are generous, caro!' she exclaimed, and he saw beneath her veil a single tear upon her cheek. 'The past life of a man can always be effaced; that of a woman never. A false step, alas! lives as evidence against her until the grave.'

' Why are you so melancholy this evening ?' he asked, after a pause. ' I really don't know,' she answered, vainly endeavouring to smile. ' Perhaps it is because I am so happy and contented. My peace seenis too complete to be lasting, therefore I fear the reaction.'

' While you love me, Gemma, I shall love you always,' he exclaimed decisively. ' You need never have any doubt about my earnestness. I adore you.' Her breast heaved and fell l»eneath its black lace and jet, and she turned her tine eyes upon hni with an expression more eloquent Than any words of assurance and affection, Then, after a brief silence, during which she slowly retraced the semicircle with her sunshade, he glanced around at the crowd about them, saying—- ' It is impossible to speak further of our private affairs here. You will dine with roe to-night. "Where shall it be ?' He always consulted her in such matters, for being herself Tuscan she ;ould order an exquisite dinner at a quarter the cost of his own clumsv demands. ' Let's dine at the Eden. There's plenty of air there. We can get a table facing the sea, and stay to the performance afterwards. Shall we ?' she asked, her face brightening. ' Certainly,' he replied. ' I'll go •cross to the hotel anil dress, while you go along home and put on another {rock. I know you won't go in black to a cafe chamant,' he added laughing. 4 You'll call for me,' she asked. 4 Yes, at eight.' As these words fell from his lips a man's voice in English exclaimed—•Hulloa, Charlie! Who'd have thought of finding you here ?'

Armytage looked up quickly, and to his surprise found standing before him his old college ehum and fellow clubman, Frank Tristram.

• Why, Frank, old fellow!' he cried, jumping up and grasping the other's hand warmly. •We haven't met for how long? The last time was one night in the Wintergarten at .Berlin, fully two years ago—eh ?' ' Yes! Neither of us are much in London now-a-days, therefore we seldom meet. But what are you doing h«re ?' gsked the Queen's messenger, looking cool and smart in his suit of gray flannel.

4 Killing time, as usual,' his friend replied, with a smile. • i,ucky uevil I' Tristram exciaimed. 'While I'm compelled to race from end to end of Europe for a paltry eight hundred a year, you laze away your days in an out-of-the-world place like this.' And he glanced significantly ai the sweet, fair-faced girl who, having given him a swift glance, was now sitting motionless, her hands idly crossed upon her lap, her eyes fixed blankly upon the sunlit sea. ' Let me introduce you,' Armytage exclaimed in Italian, noticing his friend's look of admiration. Then, with a polite wave of his hand, he said, ' The Signorina Genima Fanetti—my friend, Captain Frank Tristram.'

The latter bowed, made a little complimentary speech in excellent Italian, and seated himself with Armytage beside her.

' Well,' Tristram said, still speaking in Italian, 'This is quite an unexpected pleasure. I thought that in addition to the Ambassador out at Ardenza, and the jovial Jack Hutchinson, the Consul, 1 was the only Englishman in this purely Tuscan place.' Then turning to his friend's companion, he asked, ' Are you Livornese?' 'Oh, no,' she replied, with a gay, rippling laugh. 'I live in Florence; only just now the place is stifling, so. I'm down here for fresh air.'

j «Ah, Florence!' he said. »The old city is justly termed "La Bella." I ! sometimes find myself there in winter, and it is always interesting, always dej lightful.' At that moment an English lady, the wife of an Italian officer, bowed in passing, and Armytage sprang to his feet and began to chat to her. He had known her well during his stay in Florence earlier in the year. j As soon as Gemma noticed that her I lover was no longer listening, her ■ manner at once changed, and bending quickly towards the captain, she exj claimed in rapid Italian which she knew Armytage could not understand : 'Well, did you see Vittorina safely i to London ?'

Tristram started at the unexpected mention of that name.

' Yes,' he answered, with slight hesitation. ' I saw her safely as far as Charing Cross, but was compelled to leave her there and put her in a cab for Hammersmith.' ' How far is that ?'

' About four kilometres,' he replied. • I have had no telegram from her,' she observed. ' She promised to wire to me as soon as she arrived, and I am beginning to feel anxious about her.' ' Worry is useless,' he said calmly. 'She is no doubt quite safe with her friends. 1 gave the cabman the right address. My official business was pressing, or 1 would have gone out to Hammersmith with her.'

• You remember what I told you on the night we parted in Florence ?' she said mysteriously. He nodded, and his dark face grew a shade paler. ' Well, I have discovered that what I suspected was correct,' she said, her eyes flashing for an instant with a strange glint. ' Someone has betrayed the secret.' ' Betrayed you !' he gasped.

She shrugged her shoulders. Her clear eyes fixed themselves fiercely upon him. • You alone knew the truth,' she said. 1 And you have broken your promise of silence.'

He flinched, glancing furtively at his friend who in ignorance was still calmly talking with the officer's wife. • Well?' he said, ' You arc, of course, at liberty to make any charge you like against me, but I can only declare that

I have not divulged one single word.' Then he added quickly, ' But what of Annytage ? Does be know anything ?' ' Absolutely nothing,' she answered quickly. ' I love him. Remember that you and 1 have never met before our introduction this afternoon.'

•Of course,' the captain answered beneath his breath. 'We are perfect strangers.'

'Curious that Vittorina has disappeared ! If I hear nothing of her I shall go to London and find her,' Gemma observed, after a few moments' silence.

' Better not, if you really have been betrayed, as you allege you have,' he answered quickly. ' I have been betrayed, Captain Tristram !' she said rapidly with withering scorn, her face flushing instantly, her large luminous eyes flashing. ' You are well aware that 1 have, and further, you know that you yourself are my bitterest enemy. I spare you now, mean, despicable coward that you are, but utter one word to the man I love and I will settle accounts with you swiftly and relentlessly.' She held her breath, panting for an instant, then turning from him, greeted her lover with a sweet, winning smile, as at that moment he returned to her side.

CHAPTER VII. Doctor Malvaxo. Among the thousand notable dining places in London, Bonciani's restaurant, in Regent street, is notable for its recherche repast*. It is by no means a pretentious place, for its one window displays a few long-necked, rush-covered flasksof Tuscan wine, together with some rather sickly-looking plants, a couple of framed menus, and two or three large baskets of well-selected fruit. Indeed, the average Londoner who has passed tim<.-without number from Piccadilly Cirrus to Oxford street has never noticed its existence, for outwardly there is nothing to distinguish it from any other of the host of small Italian restaurants with which the metropolis abounds.

Yet to many, mostly clubmen and idlers about town, the Bonciani is a feature of London life. In the daytime the passer-by sees no sign of activity within, and even at night the place pit-sect* an ill-lit, paltry, and

uninviting appearance beside the St. James's, the Cafe Royal, and the glaring Monico. But among the few in London who know where to dine well the little unpretentious place half-way up Regent street, on the left going towards Oxford street, is well known for its unrivalled cuisine, its general cosiness, and its well-matured wines. At the Bonciani the dinners are cooked separately by Augustino, a first-class chef who was chief of the kitchen at the Grand Hotel at Rome, and one can rely upon the Italian dishes being done to a turn. The interior is not striking. There are no giltedged mirrors as is usual in AngloItalian restaurants, but the walls are frescoed as in Italy, with lounges upholstered in red velvet, a trifle shabby, extending down the long, rather low room. Upon the dozen little marble-topped tables with their snow-white cloths are objects seen nowhere else in London—namely, silver-plated holders for the wine flasks; for with the dinner here wine is inclusive, genuine Pomino imported direct from old Galuzzo in the Val d'Ema beyond Firenze, a red wine of delicate bouquet which connoisseurs know cannot be equalled anywhere in London. Yes, many people dine at Kettner's, at the Florence, at Gatti's, at the Monico. and the fate Koyal, but few ot London's millions have ever set foot within the small unique establishment of Bonciani. To dine there is, indeed, an education in the gastronomic art. One evening, about a week after the meetingbetween Gemma and Tristram at Livoruo, nearly all the tables were occupied, as they usually-are at the dining hour, but at the extreme end sat two men, eating leisurely, and taking long draughts from the great rushcovered flask before them. They were Tristram and Romanelli.

Four days ago the pair had met late at night at the railway station at Leghorn, and the one hearing the other demand a ticket for London, they got into conversation and travelled through together, arriving at Victoria on the previous evening. During the three days of travelling they had become very friendly, and now, at the Italian's invitation, Tristram was dining previous to his return on the morrow to Livorno, for at that period Italy was approaching England on the subject of a treaty, and the correspondence between our ambassador and the Foreigu Office was considerable, necessitating despatches being 6entto Italy almost daily. 'So, you return to-morrow?' Romanelli exclaimed, twirling his tiny black moustache affectedly. To men his foppishness was nauseating; but women liked him because of lusauiusinggossip.

' Yes,' the other answered, sighing. ' I expected to get a few days' rest in London, but this afternoon I received orders to leave again to-morrow.' ' Your life must be full of change and entertainment,' the young Italian said.

'Rather too full,' the other laughed. ' Already this year I've been to Italy more than twenty times, besides three times to Constantinople, once to Stockholm, twice to Petersburg, and innumerable trips to Brussels and Paris. But, by the way,' he added, putting down his glass as if a sudden thought had occurred to him, ' you know Leghorn well, I think you said ?' ' I'm not Livornese, but I've lived there for ten years,' the other answered. ' I came to London a year ago to learn English, for they said it was impossible to get any sort of good pronunciation iu Italy.' ' I've passed through Pisa hundreds of times, but have only been in Leghorn once or twice,' observed the Queen's messenger. Charming place. Full of pretty girls.'. 'Ah ! yes,' cried Komanelli. ' The English always admire our Livornesi girls.' Tristram paused for a few seconds, then raising his eyes until they met those of his new acquaintance, asked, ' Do you happen to know a girl there named Fanetti —Gemma Fanetti?' Komanelli started perceptibly, and for an instant held his breath. He was utterly unprepared for this question, and strove vainly not to betray any surprise. ' Fanetti,' he repeated aloud, as if reflecting. ' I think not. It is not a Livornese name.' ' She lives in Florence, 1 believe, but always spends the bathing season at Leghorn,' Tristram added. His quick eyes had detected the Italian's surprise and anxiety when he had made the unexpected inquiry, and he felt confident that his foppish young friend was concealing the truth.

' I've never to my recollection met anyone of that name,' llomanelli answered, with well-feigned carelessness. 'ls she a lady, or merely a girl of the people V

' A lady.* ' Young ?' ' Quite. She's engaged to be married to a friend of mine.'

' Engaged to he married ?' the young man repeated with a smile. 'ls the man an Englishman ?' ' Yes, a college chum of mine. He's well off, and they seem a most devoted pair.' There was a brief silence, during which Tristram continued eating his costolleta alia Milanese, a dish of which the Bonciani makes a speciality.

' 1 have no recollection of the name in Florentine society, and I certainly have never met her in Livorno,' Komanelli said, 'So she's found a husband! Is she pretty'?' ' Extremely. The prettiest woman I've ever seen in Italy.' ' And there are a good many in my country,' the Italian spid. ' The poor girl who died so mysteriously—or who some say was murdered—outside the Criterion was very beautiful. I knew her well—noor srirl !'

1 lon knew jut .' gasped the caplain, in turn surprised. ' You were acquainted with Vittorina Hinnldo !' ' Yes,' replied'his companion slowly, glancing at him with some curiosity. ' Hut, tell me,' he added after a pause, ' how did you know her surname ? The London police*have failed to discover it ?'

Frank Tristram's throws contracted. 11.' knew that he had'foolishly betrayed himself. In an instant a ready lie was upon his lips. ' I was told so in /Livorno,' he said elibiv. ' She was Lwornese.'

4 Yes,' lloraanelli observed, only half-convinced. ' According to the papers it appears as if she were accompanied by some man from Italy. But }xr death, and her companion's disappearance, are alike unfathomable mysteries.'

' Extraordinary !' the captain acquiesced. 'l've been away so much that I haven't had a chance to read the whole of the details. But the scraps I have read seem remarkably mysterious.' ' There appears to have been absolutely no motive whatever in murdering her,' Arnoldo said, glancing sharply across the table at his companion. ' If it was really murder there must have been some hidden motive,' Tristram declared. 'Personally, however, in the light of the coroner's verdict I'm inclined to the opinion that the girl died suddenly in the cab, and the man sitting beside her, fearing that an accusation of murder might bring about some further revelation, made good his escape.' ' He must have known London pretty well.' Romanelli observed. 'Of course. The evidence proves that he was an Englishman; and that lie knew London was quite evident from the fact that he gave instructions to the cabman to drive up the Haymarket, instead of crossing Leicester square.' Again a silence fell between them as a calm-faced elderly waiter in the most correct garb of the Italian cameriere, a short jacket and long white apron reaching almost to his feet, quickly removed their empty plates. He glanced swiftly from one man to the other, polished Tristram's plate with his cloth as he stood behind him, and exchanged a meaning look with Romanelli. Then he turned suddenly and went off to another table to which he was summoned by the tapping of a knife upon a plate, the glance he had exchanged with the young Italian was one of recognition and mysterious significance. This man, the urbane head-waiter known well to frequenters of the Bonciani as Filippo, was known equally well in the remote Rutlandshire village as Dr. Malvano, the man who had expressed fear at the arrival of Vittorina in England, and who, truth to tell, led the strangest dual existence of doctor and waiter.

None in rural Lyddington suspected that their jovial doctor with his merry chaff and imperturbable good humour became grave-faced and suddenly transformed each time he visited London ; none dreamed that his many absences from his practice were due to anything beyond his natural liking for theatres and the gaiety of town life, and none would have credited, even had it ever been alleged, that this man who could afford that large, comfortable house, rent shooting, and keep hunters in his stables, on each of his visits to London assumed a badly-starched shirt, black tie, short jacket and long white aprons in order to collect stray pence from diners in a restaurant. Yet such *as the fact. Dr. Malvano, who for years had practised among the English polony in Florence, was none other than Filippo, head waiter at the obscure little tafe in Regent street. 4 It is still a mystery who the dead girl was,' Tristram observed at last, after Filippo had brought another dish. 4 The man who told me her name only knew very little about her.'

4 What did he know !' Romanelli inquired quickly. ' I had often met hei at various houses at Livorno, but knew nothing of her parentage.' 4 Xobody seems to know who she really was,' Tristram remarked, pensively ; ' and her reason for coming tc England seems to have been entirely a secret one.'

4 A lover perhaps,' Arnoldo said, with an assumed air.

4 Perhaps,' acquiesced his friend. ' But who told you about her ?' the Italian demanded.

'There have been official inquiries through the British Consulate,' the other answered mysteriously. ' Inquiries from the London police?' The Queen's messenger nodded in the affirmative, adding :

' I believe they have already discovered a good many curious facts.' ' Have they ?' asked Komanelli, quickly exchanging a hasty glance with Filippo, who at that moment had paused behind his companion's chair. ' What's the nature of their discoveries ?' 'Ah !' Tristram answered, with a provoking smile. 'I really don't know, except that I believe they have discovered something of her motive for coming to England.'

' Her motive!' the other gasped, a trifle pale. ' Then there is just a thanes that the mystcn will be elucidated, aftei all.'

'More than a chance, I think,'the captain replied. 'The police no doubt hold a clue by that strange letter written from Lucca which was discovered in her dressing-case. And, now that I recollect,' he added, in surprise, ' this very table at which we are sitting is the one expressly mentioned by her mysterious correspondent. I wonder what was meant by it?'

'Ah! I wonder!' the Italian ex:lairaed mechanically, his brow darkened by deep thought. 'lt was evident that the mysterious Egisto feared that some catastrophe might occur if she arrived in England, and he therefore warned her in a vague veiled manner.' Filippo came and went almost noiselessly, his qu ck ears constantly on the alert to catch their conversation, his dean-shaven face grave, smileless, sphinx-like. ' Well,' the captain observed in a decisive manner, ' you may rest assured that Scotland Yard will do its utmost to i-lear u» the mvsterv surrounding the death of your friend, for 1 happen to know that the Italian Ambassador in London has made special representation to our Home Office upon the subject, ;tnd instructions have gone forth that no effort is to be spared to solve the enigma.' ' Then our Government at Rome have actually taken up the matter?' the Italian said in a tone which betrayed alarm.

Tristram smiled, but no word passed his lips. He saw that his new acquaintance had not the slightest suspicion that it was he who had accompanied Vittorina from Italy to London; that it was he who had escaped so ingeniously through the bar of the Criterion; that it was for him the police were everywhere searching. At last, when they had concluded their meal, Komanelli paid Filippo, giving him a tip, and the pair left the restaurant, to pass an hour at the Empire before parting. Once or twice the young Italian referred to the mystery, but found his companion disinclined to discuss it further.

In my official capacity I dare not

say what 1 know,' Tristram said at last in an attitude of confidence, as they were sitting together in the crowded lounge of the theatre. 'My profession entails absolute secrecy. Often I am intrusted with exchange of confidences between nations, knowledge of which would cause Europe to be convulsed by war from end to end, but secrets intrusted to me remain locked within my own heart.'

' Then you are really aware of the true facts r inquired the other. 'Of some,' he replied vaguely, with a mysterious smile. The hand of his foppish companion trembled as he raised his liqueur-glass to his pale lips. But he laughed a hollow, artificial laugh, and then was silent. CHAPTER VIII. Hkr Ladyship's Skcrkt. Filippo, grave-faced, but smart, nevertheless continued to attend to the wants of customers at the Bonciani until nearly 10 o'clock. He took their orders in English, transmitted them in Italian through the speaking-tube to the kitchen, and deftly handed the piles of plates and dishes with the confident air of the professional waiter. When a customer had finished he weighed the wine-flask in his hand in true Tuscan style to ascertain how much Pomino had been consumed, and expressed profuse thanks for every tip he received, however small.

Evidence was not wanting that to several elderly Italians he was well known, for he greeted them cheerily, advised them as to the beet dishes, and treated them with tatherly solicitude from the moment they entered until their departure. Once, indeed, having a few moments' repose, he stood beside one of the tables where two elderly men in evening dress were dining, and discussed with them some local question affecting that old-world city dear tc every Tuscan heart, ' Florence, La Bella.'

At ten o'clock, however, only twc or three stray customers remained, smoking their long rank cigars and sipping their coffee, therefore Filippc handei over his cash, assumed his shabby black overcoat, and wishing ' buona notte' to his fellow-waiters and ' good-night' to the English checktaker at the small counter, made hie way out and eastward along Regent street. It was a bright brilliant night, cool and refreshing aftei the heat of the day. As he crossed Piccadilly Circus the glare of the Criterion brought back to him the strange occurrence that had recently taken place before that great open portal, and with a glance in that direction, he muttered to himself—--1 I wonder if the truth will ever be discovered ? Strange that Arnoldo's friends know so much, yet will tell so little. That the girl was killed seems certain. But how, and by whom ? Strange,' he added, after a pause as he strode on, deep in thought. ' Very strange.'

In his soft felt hat and frayed coat he looked a typical waiter, and certainly none would recognise in him the smart, well-dressed, well-groomed medical man, who was a dead shot, who rode straight in the hunting field, and was a welcome guest in every country house throughout Rutland. Engrossed in his own reflections he passed along Wardour street into Shaftesbury avenue, and presently entered the heart of the foreign quarter of London, a narrow, dismal street of high, smoke-blackene.i, unin-viting-looking houses known as Church street, a squalid sunless thoroughfare behind the glaring Palace of Varieties, inhabited mostlv bv French and Italians.

He paused before a dark, dingy house, a residence of some importance a century ago, judging from its deep area, its wide portals, and its iron extinguishers once used by the now forgotten linkman, and taking out a latchkey opened the door, ascending to a small bed-sitting-room on the third floor, not over-clean but nevertheless comfortable. Upon the small side-table, with its cracked and clouded mirror, stood the removable centre of his dressing-bag with itf silver fittings, and hanging behind the door were the clothes he wore when living his other life.

He lit the cheap paraffin lamp, pulled down the faded crimson blind, threw his hat and coat carelessly upon the bed, and after glancing at his watch sank into the shabbv armchair.

' Still time,' he muttered. ' 1 wonder whether she'll come? If she doesn't—if she refuses '

And sighing, he took out a cigarette, lit it, and throwing back his head meditatively watched the smoke-rings as they curled upward. 'l'd give something to know how much the police have actually discovered,' he continued, speaking to himself, as he held his cigarette for a few moments at arm's length. 'lf they've really discovered Vittorina's object in visiting London, then I must be wary not to betray my existence. Already the Ambassador must have had his suspicions but, fortunately, her mouth is closed for ever. She cannot now betray the secret which she held, nor can she utter any wild denunciations. Our only fear is that the police may possibly discover Egisto in Lucca, make inquiries of him, and thus obtain a key to the whole matter. Our only hope, however, is that Egisto, hearing of the fatal determination of Vittorina's journey and not desiring to court inquiry, has wisely tied. If he has remained in Lucca after writing that most idiotic letter, he deserves all the punishment he'll get for being such a confounded imbecile.'

Then, with an expression of disgust, he smoked on in a lazy indolent attitude, regardless of the shabbiness and 6qualor ot his surroundings. ' It is fortunate,' he contiuued at last, speaking slowly to himself, ' very fortunate indeed, that Arnoldo should have met this cosmopolitan friend of his. He evidently knows something, hut does not intend to tell us. One thing is evident, he can't have the slightest suspicion of the real facts, as we know them; but on the other hand there seems no doubt that the police have ascertained something. How much, it is impossible to tell. That the Italian Ambassador has made representations to tbv Home Office i 6 quite correct. I knew it days ago. Therefore his other statements are likely to he equally true. By Jove!' he added, starting suddenly to his feet 'By Jove! If Egisto should be surprised by the police the fool is ce'-tain to make a clean breast of the wbole thing in order to save bis own

neck. Then will come the inevitable crisis! Dio! Such a catastrophe is too terrible to contemplate.' He drew a deep breath, murmured some inaudible words, and for a long time sat consuming cigarette after cigarette. Then, glancing at his watch again and finding it past eleven, he rose and stretched himself, saying:

« She's not coining. Well—l suppose I must go to her.' Quickly he took from his bag a clean shirt, and assuming a light covert-coat and crush hat he was once again transformed into a gentleman. By the aid of a vesta he found his way down the dark carpetless stairs, and hurrying along soon gained Shaftesbury avenue, where he sprang into a hansom and gave the man instructions to drive to Sussex square, Hyde Park. In twenty minutes the conveyance pulled up before the wide portico of a handsome but rather gloomy-looking house at the corner of Stanhope street and the square, and alighting, Malvano ascended the steps and rang the bell. His summons was answered by a footman who, recognising him at once, exclaimed: ' Her ladyship is at home, sir,' and ushered him'into a well-furnished mors-ing-room, leaving him and closing the door.

A few moments elapsed, when the man returned, and Malvano, with the air of one perfectly acquainted with the arrangements of the house, followed him up the wide, well-lit staircase to the drawing-room, a great apartment on the first floor resplendent with huge mirrors, gilt furniture, and costly bric-a-brac.

■ Seated in an armchair at the further end of the room beside a table whereon was a shaded lamp, sat a small, ugly woman whose aquiline face was wizened ' by age, whose hair was an unnatural i flaxen tint, and whose cheeks were not altogether devoid of artificial colouring. 1 So you are determined to see me?' she exclaimed, petulantly, raising her brows as she turned in her chair to face her visitor. Malvano seated himself without hesitation in a chair | near her. Her greeting was the ! reverse of cordial. As she spoke, ! her lips parted, displaying her even i rows of false teeth : as she j moved, her dress of rich black silk rustled loudly ; and as she placed her book upon the table with a slight sigh, the fine diamonds on her bony clawi like hand sparkled with a thousand ; fires.

i • Well, why have you come—at this I hour too ?' she inquired with a haughti- ; ness which she always assumed towards ' her servants and inferiors. She sat 'rigid, immovable, and Malvano, student of character that he was, saw . plainly that she had braced herself for ! an effort. (To 'e Continued.)