THE TERROR BY NIGHT.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLI, Issue 12698, 29 October 1904, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE TERROR BY NIGHT.

jcrjULISIISD BY SPECIAL AEEANGEMI3NT.]

BY. J MACLAE3N COBBAN, Author of "The Iron Hand," "Pursued by > the Law," " Tho Mystery of the Golden Tooth," "The Last Alive," ■ Etc., Etc. [copyright.] CHAPTER XX.—(Continued). jIE. SruiEBMAXN looked in the glass, and {minted in a deep, guttural, German note, "Ach! it ish mine self." go was a tall, halo man of sixty or seventy, and of bold and distinguished aspect. He wore gold-rimmed spectacles upon nose hooked like an eagle's beak; his hair _of which ho had a luxuriant, stiff mass ■was grizzled, as also was his great moustache, which, being waxed stiff, stood out about six inches on each side. The notable sign of age about him was his tooth- . lessne l^. "How have yon done it?" demanded Maudslay in wonder and admiration. "Oh, quite easy," answered Silbermann. "It is cliieMy a hairdres-ier's •effect." "But your teeth: what have you done •with them?" "*"Tliey are in my pocket." '"What?" " Very early in life— the sake of health and convenience— had all my teeth taken out by a clever dentist, cut down and fitted to plates, so that I can be either toothless or toothy as I please." "Well!" exclaimed Maudslay. "I never heard of such a thing before! r "Mr. Honslow" was announced. After greeting his host, ho was introduced to err Silbermann, who clapped his German heels together and bowed low. When he rose from his inflection the eves of Mr. Heuslow were fixed on bins with a shrewd end careful scrutiny. Kerr Silbermaim returned his gaze. "No," said ho with a peremptory German accent. "It is not you, sir, that I have known. It is your brother." (Ho proE&unci'd it " brozzer.") " You have a brother? Ya? Mine friend, Maudslay"— «(he pronounced it " Mawdslay")—-" sayyou have."

"I bad," answered Hcnslow, with a smooth, polite smile. "But I have been in Bunnah, tooat the time of the war," ... ••: he added boldly. "Ah," said Silberraann., "I was' not in Barman at that time. It was before that J, travel and do business in Bunnah. I did know Maadalay——all before any English was there." bo they talked. When they sat down to dinner the vein of reminiscence having been opened the talk s'::H continued about Burnish, and Henslow was as agreeable and interesting and "amusing as Hen* Silber-r mann. The dinner was weiradvanced, and ' ?ii appeared to have reached a satisfactory "dftgreo of conviviality and confidence, when Herr Silbermimn glided into mention of the morning's news of the theft at South Kensington. ;' ■ "Ach; now do you react that little history? I laugh when I read it Jlaugh loud : In my chamberand soft, in the sleeve, in the public street! Waram? Why? The officials at South Kensington Musayare very clever, or very-very stupid! They say the crown— tiara—the diadem is "worthless imitation! Do not you believe! I know. I have see the crown in Mandalay, and never I forget." ; _"Herr Silbermaira," explained Maudslay, "is an esperc in precious stones." "I have see the crown, also," continued Silbennann, "in the South Kensington ' Musay—see it many time—and it is the one . —the same!l say," he repeated with ex.cit«hi;;nt and emphasis, "it is tho one—the :$: ' same! And I know!"

. "Really?' murmured Henslow, .softly, with an unmoved manner, but an eye. "How remarkably interesting!'" ; : "Ya; I know," insisted Silbermann. "I will go, and I will say to the director of the musay, ' Dear sir, do vou make mistake, of do yon -will to make believe? Tho crown which is lost is the true crown. I know it." '"But why said Hen slow, > "why should yon take the trouble to tell them that? If they, are such fools as not to know the value of what thev possess, why should you trouble?" "Because, my friend," answered Silbermann, "I shall make profit. I shall stipulate for reward if the crown is found. The police of crime will now look better for it, and who knows? I may find it mineself!" IlenKlow looked at him' thoughtfully an instant, "and then murmured, " Well,'it may be worth your while." When tbo party rose, Henslow departed .'first!.'.'■■'■.■;'•.'. .'■"■.; '.' . ' '•..- ; ,.., ....■ "Now,"' said Herr Silbermann, suddenly assuming the voice and manner of Mr. Townshend, "he will go home and think, and get ready to take it away! I must go and get ready also!"" " *

CHAPTER XXI.

THE LION'S JACKALS.

■ When Townshend began to set forth what he wished done. Maudalay began to wonder., Townshend declared it was necessary that every movement of Henslow's should be watched henceforward, and that- the watch should not be intermitted for a single moment. - . .

'." Isn't that more than we , can accomplish?" said Maudslay. " Suppose he should have to be watched for days. I am ready to bear my part? but I am mortal, Iu moved by "weak desires for food and drink, and warmth and sleep; and so are you, I suppose?" • ; "Mv dear fellow," answered Townshend, •'••vrjli do the watching by deputy. There are a good .many people always associated ."frith me in a business of this sort. At this moment a humble friend of mine is driving Mr. Henslow home, or wherever he asked to be taken."

llaudshy wondered. . "Come on with me to Jermyn-streefc," continued Townsheud. "The cabman will brine; his report to me there." . And Maudslay wondered still more. He wondered most of all, when, after waiting two hours from their arrival in JermynBtreet, the cabman was announced. "WelL Lipton," said Townshend, "what,'?, the result? There's some liquid refreshment on the sideboard, if you like to help yourself,". "Thank ye, marquis," said the cabman, who seemed an intelligent young fellow. "You've beer a rather long time, haven't yoa?" said Townshend. . ."Well, yes, marquis. You see, I've done two journeys. The gent, said, 'Drive me to Norfolk' Mansions, Victoria-street,' and I drives him., When he gets there, he jumps out and says, 'Wait a bit. I want you a little while longer.' I says, 'Eight, sir;' and in ho goes." I whistles, and up come;? Hemming. I tips him the wink, and when the 'gent, comes out again he hangs on behind." "How was Mr. Henslow dressed when ha wine out again'.'" asked Townshend. "Still in evening dress?" " No, sir. In a sort of cycling suit." "Ah,"'said Townshend. "" And where did be want to be taken a. second time?"" "You'll never guess, marquis," answered the iiiku. with a smile. "To Brompton Cemetery!" " Nonsense, Lipton." "Fact, sir. Of. course, he dkln't say to me, 'Brompton Cemetery, plump out. Ho says, 'The Bull and Horns' in the Lilho Road, near by the cemetery' and when he gets there he savs, ' You give your 'o.ss and yourself a drink, and I'll find you here again in less than 'alf an hour.' It was Hemming what saw him go into the cemetery." ' ''Saw him go in?" exclaimed Townshend, evidently moved to wonder and incredulity. "Saw' him go in, marquis. He turned down a side road till he come to a quiet spot, and then he shinnied over the high wall like a lamplighter." . At that Townshend flashed a glance ot emphasis to Maudslay. '"And Hemming "went after him, of course?" said he. The cabman . shifted to the other foot. "Well, no, marquis. Hemming's a heavy man, and he was not brought up as a lamplighter; consequently he could not shinny that wall ; and there was no good thinking of a ladder, for the cove would ha been off by that time. So he did the best he could' and. come back to me, on the chance of the cove keeping his word." U " Ar.d he kept his word and came back.' " He did, marquis." "If he hadn't," said Townshend, rumpling \ his crest of hair, and frowning fiercely), "our business might have been spoilt!" .

"Well, yet?, it might, marquis," assented the cabman, uneasily. • f "I'm not pleased with Hemming," said Townshend. . > '

" No, marquis ; of course you ain'ii. But Hemming, I daresay, will come and tell you all about, it." "At present he —where?" "Where I took him up, sir; outside Norfolk Mansions, Victoria-street." " With Mr. Henslow inside?"

" That's it, sir."

When the man departed, Townshend rumpled his forelock and pondered, and Maudslay continued silent. Ho was like a man who enters what he expects to be a familiar room, and who suddenly finds himself surrounded by strange furniture and strange faces, strange voices and strange suggestions. Who were these associates whom Townshend encouraged, and presumably paid? Had lie those men always ready at his secret bidding? And did they all call him "marquis" as the cabman did? With such Questions as these cropping up, even Townshend was now become somewhat unfamiliar; and Maudslay reminded himself that, however intimate' he appeared to have become with the mysterious man, ho had not known him a week yet, and there was still surviving tha question, " Who is lie;" But Townshend spoke, and these speculations were abandoned.

"Do you happen to know," he asked in slow, meditative fashion, " where the elder Henslow was buried?"

"J. don't, ' answered Maudslay. " But my friend the doctor may know ; he attended him iap to the end. Shall I ask him?" " I wish you would," answered Townshend, still rumpling his lock. "I should like to know, or to venture a good guess, why Henslow has made that untimely visit to "the —climbing in like a thief and a robber."

"It is certainly very odd," said Maudslay. "But the truth is I am completely at" sea now and I don't seo how I can be of any more use in this Henslow affair." " I quite understand," said Townshend, with his characteristic smile. You'd like to be down at Beckford Priory again. Why not? . In fact," he continued, somewhat to Maudslay's surprise, " I think you may now be of more use down there than up here." " Of use for what?" Maudnhvy asked himself/

"I can. manage Henslow here," added Townshend: "if you can head him off there —if ho should determine to take to the fields again. And, first of all, you can wire me back if the elder Henslow is, or is not, buried at Brompton." Thu hour was late; Townshend, if unexpectedly mysterious, was still to be trusted ; and Maudslay was tired, and so, with a mere "All right," ho went home to Cromwell Road. It was not till next morning, with hurried preparations to catch the earliest. possible tram to Beckford Priory, that ho began to exercise his mind on the strange position ho occupied between his friends at Beckford and the mysterious Mr. Townshend. The exercise of his mind brought him to no exact conclusion. Ho therefore abandoned it, and dwelt on the pleasure he anticipated from being near Cynthia Brooke. Meanwhile, the mysterious Mr. Townshend, whom my readers ought to know better than Mr. 'Maudslay did, was engaged in a fashion which to Mm was supremely congenial; he was drawing his net about Mr. Henslow, and tempting that astute bird into the snare of the fowler.

His leading desire was to provoke Henslow to flight, when he might be caught— bv Townshend, and no other*— the valuable crown of Sapi-Yaw-Lat in his possesion. The • consummation he was determined to effect alonefor reasons which you may guess, or which, if you do not guess, you will ' presently discover—and therefore it was that he had proposed Maudslav's visit to the country. ' He had already alarmed Henslow for the safety of the crown, which was presumably in his hands, and he now set himself to alarm the man for the safety of his person. To that end he did an extraordinary thing. Late although it was when Maudslay -left him, he told his young man to call a hansom. He drove to a news agency, where he was known, saw the manager, and wrote ' for him the following slip: — THE MYSTERIOUS DEATH IN QUEEN MARY'S MANSIONS. "Wo learn that a warrant has been applied for and granted for an* arrest on sue- , picion in connection with the death of Jar. Billiter. A sensational development may be looked for." "Ah!" said the manager, when he had glanced at the slip, " can Y you give us the name?" ' ,-,'-;'. "Mustn't," answered Townshend, "not yet." "All right," eaid the manager again, and ! marked the slip for immediate issue to the i newspapers. •.-. ■, ■ . , ! "I'll wait a little," said Townshend, and I get one of your type-written slips." I " All right," aid the manager again, and went on with something else In a few minutes Townshend departed with a' type-written copy of the slip he had landed in, made on the official paper of the acencv, with its title printed large at the top. "He smiled as he folded it away in his i pocket, for he knew that all the morning newspapers would contain that threatening announcement, and would give an important place to it. _ ._ Ho returned to Jermyn-street. He wrote on a card that " Mr. Johnson, private detective and inquiry agent, would have the pleasure of calling at six clock in the evening: and the card, with the type-written announcement of the 1 ress j Agency, he enclosed in an envelope ad- | dressed to "Mr. Henslow. Norfolk Mansions, Victoria-street, S.W." Townshend had no intention of calling on Henslow, nor ! of sending "Mr. Johnson;" he merely desired to hasten the alarm and flying feet of the holder of the crown of Sapi-Yaw-Lat. Next morning Townshend stayed at home. He rolled cigarettes and smoked them ceaselessly, the while he fancied the astonishing , effect of his communication to Mr. Henslow j In imagination he noted Henslow when ue j tore open the envelope at breakfast and read what it contained; he considered the j perturbation of his mind when ho casually found confirmation of the terrible communi- j cation in his usual morning paper; he watched him while he hastily rose and rang ; the bell, and sent bis servant out to buy more papers— the papers, even the ex-1 pensive Times; lie saw him receive them, \ and glance through them one by one, his alarm growing as he read, and his fueling of | being a hunted beast that must escape some- i where. 1 Townshend was still indulging in these fancies when one of his watchers was announced. He brought word that Henslow ; had already " broken cover." He had gone to the Victoria Station of the Underground Railway, carrying a Gladstone bag, and had taken train to Hammersmith, whither two other watchers had followed him. By and bv one of thesie cam© with the announcement that Henslow had passed from Hammersmith Station to an old inn overlooking the river half a mile above the bridge, and that from there he had sent out a message to a local owner and hirer of electric launches. ' " Oh, that is his gameis ' it?" said Townshend; and rose and .stretched himself, prepared to take a hand in the game. He lingered at home a little while longer, ' waiting for the promised telegram from Maudslay. It came. It contained the 1 words. "Yes. Tomb.— Matjdslay." "Ah," said he. "That's enough" Ho went out to - public telephone call office, and summoned two more of his mys- * terious coadjutors from heaven knows ! where. In half an hour they entered his ', sitting-room in Jermyn-street. He in- ' structed them to go to Brompton Cemetery, ; discover the Henslow tomb, and remain .' there watching it. They were, of course, ' to hang about during the day merely like other visitors afflicted with tomby minds; but they wen; to take care not to be turned ' out when dusk fell and the gates were i closed.

When those, dispositions were made it was time for lunch. But Townshend had other business on hand. He went, Ifco a largo wardrobe in his bedroom, and took therefrom a frill of black beard, a soft felt hat, and a thick pilot coat. He gave a touch and a dab or two to his face, with the practised dexterity of an actor; and put on the board, the hat, and the coat. As a second thought, he dropped a long pistol into the inner pocket of the coat; and he left the lions*'with all the appearance of a seafaring man, and a daring buccaneer at that. He jumped into a cab, drove to St. James' Park Station, and took the train to Hammersmith., promising to entertain himself at some "fverside inn with bread and cheese, and rehearsing to himself the saying of Thackeray, " I pity the epicure who cannot upon occasion enjoy a meal of English cheese and bread and ale."

CHAPTER XXn. AN EXTRAORDINARY SURMISE. On his arrival at Hammersmith Station of the District Railway, Mr. Townshend asked for a Braclshaw at the bookstall. "The now one is not out yet, sir, said the man in charge. . "I think," said Townshend, "the old one will serve my purpose." . . . He departed with the old one in ms pocket. He went down the road to the head of the bridge. There he halted and entered an old tavern. He chose it for three reasons-it was central for the waterside industry of that region; it was likely to be a depot of information concerning boating interests both above the bridge and below ; and it was near enough to, without being too remote from, the -« where his quarry lurked. He tramped, on into the most secluded part of the tavern, and called for bitter ale and bread and cheese. Ihe landlord, seeing a man with something ot a presence, came forward to serve him himself. Having fulfilled the visitor's demand, he leaned on the bar to enter into conversation. Taking a comprehensive look at his visitor s appearance, he opened with— , "Going to 'be a beast ot a day, sir, lm airaid " " Looks very much like it," said Towns- - 6" And smells like it." added the landlord. Townshend glanced at him over his pewter pot, and he went on, " A wind from the east blowing up stiller and staffer, and a strong whiff of snow or sleet in it; dont * It'll bo a filthv night," said Townshend. " That it will! T said the landlord, with patent disgust. " But the weather," said Townshend, "can't matter much to you here m these days; there can't be much riverside business going." . " Inat's right so far, sir," said the landlord. "This ain't the place it was. But there's a tidy bit doing of one sort and another." „ " Not with boats at this time of year.' ; "No, sir; not with boats. But theres barges, and lighters, and tugs." " I suppose," said Townshend, ' all the boats are not laid up for the winter? I wanted to drop down to London with the ebb." ■ , . , "There won't bo much dropping down to-dav, sir." said the landlord with a laugh. " It'll be all hard rowing. Why not take the train?" "I don't like the train," answered Townshend, _ "No, sir? More used to the water, 1 dessay?" " Yes; more used to the water." " Well," said the landlord, " there's such things as launches, you know—steam and electric." " Alt, yes," said Townshend: "but they're all in private hands, aren't they?" "Weil, but there's no saying but private hands might hire them out. I'm a private hand myself," said he with a laugh. " I've got a bit of & steam launch lying down there;" arid he jerked his thumb over the shoulder towards the river. " Oh, that's good news," said Townshend. " And you let it out?" " I let it out— a figure," answered the 'landlord. : ."At a figure, of course. Well, I think I shall want it to-night; but Til tell you for certain in an hour or so. Will that do?"

V Oh, that'll do. But don't make no mistake. Mine's a steam launch. If it's an electric you want don't come to me; mine's a steamer. No; I wouldn't deceive nobody." "I quite understand," said Townsbeud. *' So Ion? as you do understand," uaid the landlord, "it's all right. . But I've had folks up and say to me after I've told them all about it—l've had them say to me when they was aboard, 'And this is worked by electricity'"with a feeble imitation of a woman's voice" and then I have to se.yi ' No, ma'am, by steam—good, old-fashioned steam!'—and they don't seem to like it. But so long as you understand." When his bread and cheese and ale had been consumed Townshend opened his Bradskaw. He turned immediately to the Tecord of steamship sailings, found London, and then ran down the London list till lie came to Rotterdam: Sailings from Limehouse to Rotterdam twice a week— Tuesdays and Fridays; and the hour, he knew, would be according to the tide. That day was Tuesday; bad Henslow arranged for flight to Rotterdam? He Mb Bradshaw on the bar, and went out. Ho marched with assured step along the Hammersmith Mall, and on by a passage and a quaint little Venetian bridge to the inn which had been designated as the lurk-ing-place of Henslow. He entered the lowbrowed doorway, and gk.nced about the bar. His eye found the man he sought obviously, one of his own—and passing close to him he murmured " Jermyn." „ That seemed to be a pass or signal word. The man's glance searched his face. " Right, marquis," he murmured in reply. "Where?" asked Townshend. "Out therewith a man," answered the other. Townshend gave an order at the bar for 1 somethinG: to' drink, marched on—" out ! there"—and found himself in a wide gali lery or verandah abutting on the river. ! There were benches and little tables, as in a J tea garden, and there was a landing-place for boats. Towards one end, looking out I upon the water, were two men in converse. i A glance was enough to tell Townshend that j the onethe man in knickerbockers— I was Henslow, while t'Qs other was a stranger, and from his appearance might be a foreigner. Townshend sat down two or three yards off. with his back towards them, while Henslow ei»o had his back turned to- _ wards him, A slipshod young —and in 'shirt-sleeves despite the weather—-brought Townshend his drink; and then he was alone with Henslow and the other, j He tried to make out their talk; but its j general tone was too low. Ho heard " Gui, i oui, 5 several times repeated by the stranger. i and : toute la longueur;" and he made lup his mind that the conversation was being carried on .in French, as j much probably for the sake of the stranger |as from a desire for secrecy. The French I he could have understood, had lie heard it I connectedly, but " toute la longueur," " mais j vous etc- ben, monsieur," and other nhrases ' did not help him much towards an apprehension of the subject of their talk. Presently the stranger rose, and with a bow and a doffing of the hat took his departure. Townshend was disappointed. In another moment ho was astonished—even he whom so few things could astonish. Henslow hid walked past him with the strangei, to play the polite host. On returning to his place he faced Townshend. Their j etyes met. Reflection flashed from Henslo\v, j but, after a dead pause of a .second, he passed on to where he had sat. Townshend rose immediately to depart; to his thinking nothing was to bo got by lingering there. Then Henslow came and stood before him. " Haven't I met you before, sir?" he asked with his thick, soft voice in his smoothest manner. " You may have," answered Townshend, without attempting disguise of his notable voice—the which indeed was difficult. But he was as quick to choose a course as to invent one; and he had already decided that he would boldly confess himself; for there was recognition in Henslow's eves. "A few days ago at a certain place in the country" "To be exact," broke in Towshend, " at Beckford Priory." "Ah," responded Henslow. "There was a colporteur—an old —remarkably like you." "He was remarkably like," answered Townshend; "he was me." "Ah," said Henslow again, beginning to look ugly and angry. " Last night—at dinner— met a man, a German, Herr Silbermann ; he also was remarkably like you." " Permit me, Mr. Henslow," said Townshend, "to congratulate you upon your eye for Tealistics beneath disguises; you have discovered me again: I was Herr Silner-

mann." " And what, or who, may I ask, are you

now?" "I am what you please, answered Townshend. "Well, now, Mr. What-ypoj-please," said Henslow, "you will forgive me if I inquire what is the reason of this clandestine— I sav?—interest in me." "Oh, come, Mr. Henslow," said Townshend, "that is not clever enough. You know onlv too well the cause of my interest in. you. When vou recall our two previous interviews and remember that the subjects of our conversation were Burmaii and the crown of Sapi-Yaw-Lat you cannot miss the cauS'3." , , ,„ ~ "And what have you to do with the crown of Sapi-Yaw-Lat?"

Tho tone was still soft and low, but it was thick with ferocity. . n "My dear sir," said Townshend, the crown of Theebaw's Queen concerns mo as much as it does you or the Indian Government, or as it did your late brother, or tiie Queen of Theebaw, or Theebaw himself; no more and no less. None has any tucoa right in it—except, perhaps, the miner who dug the stones from the earth — - __ " For which he was paid," put in Henslow. , , "And," continued Townshend, n the .workman who set them in tho crown. " And he was paid, too," put in Henslow. "In any case," said Townshend, with a raised forefinger, " they are out of the reckoning. And, to be precise, the future of the crown rests between me and you : you possess it, and I covet it. There you have the situation in a couple of simple sentences. (To be concluded on Saturday next.)

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