A FOOL AND HIS FOLLY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLII, Issue 12861, 9 May 1905, Page 3

A FOOL AND HIS FOLLY.

[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT J

Bl'G. W. APPLETOX.

Author of "A Forgotten Past," " A Tragedy of Error," " Doubles and Quits," etc-., etc.

CHATTER X

I dined, as my habit was when iu Paris, at one of the. boulevard restaurants. Then, feeling .strengthened and reinforced by a bottle of old Chambertin, I girded up my loins, feeling prepared for whatever might befall, and proceeded straightway to the Grand Hotel. Seating myself in the read-ing-room overlooking the terrace, I rang for a waiter, to whom I gave my card with the request that it might bo taken up to the manager, with whom I desired a personal interview.

Home minutes elapsed before the waiter returned. Would Ibe good enough, he asked, to follow him? I'did so. and was shortly ushered into the presence of tLe great man. A newspaper, I observed, was open upon a table before him. From this ho looked up as I entered the room—and quietly motioned me to be seated. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, monsieur?" he asked. I replied that it was in connection with the Baroness Slnvinsky, who, it, was understood, had been a recent, guest at his hotel. "As 1 surmised," he answered, "for, strange enough, when your card was brought to mo I was just reading a curious paragraph in the paper here, in which your name is mentioned."

1 at once begged to see the paragraph in question, which I found to be a much condensed report of the coroner's inquiry in London. In handing the paper back 1 said :

"This is quite correct so far as it goes. I am the person referred to, and a very unpleasant business it is for me, too." "And for us." said he. "The imputation that a crime has been committed in this hotel—and that is what it amounts to—is a very serious one. Nothing of the kind has ever occurred here before, and I canmit bring myself even now to believe that such a thing has really happened. Will you be good enough to give me all the details of the case':" " With pleasure, sir." and I straightway related to the uttermost particular what had happened iu the train and at Calais, together with the unpleasant consequences that ensued in London. There, for the present, I stopped, adding that the evidence of a Scotland Yard officer, who had made inquiries at this very hotel, went to corroborate my story, in every respect, so that suspicion no longer attached itself to me. The manager, who had listened with very manifest interest to my statement, nodded his head vigorously at this point. "Very true. I remember now. It was several days ago. 1 did not attach much importance to bis questions. He made no mention of a crime, and I dismissed the matter from my mind. By the way, about half an hour ago another man was here making inquiries about the Baroness Slavinsky—" I gave a great start at that, 1 can assure you. "Oh. indeed!" 1 said. "May I inquire what sort of a man he was? You can easily comprehend that this is a matter in which 1 am. in a sense, vitally interested." " Exactly," said he. "Well, lie was not a Frenchman, nor an Englishman, as I knew by his accent, which was not tierman either. 1 should imagine him to be either a Russian or a Pole." I gave a gasp at that. "Clean-shaven or bearded':" I asked. "Bearded, very dark; small, black eyes; shaggy hair and eyebrowsby no means a prepossessing-looking man." " fl'm." I said. "What, if I may be permitted to ask, was the nature of his inquiries?" " Oh, certainly. He merely wished to know if she had left any address behind her, adding that lit* was a. relative of hers. bad been abroad for a- year, and wished much to see her, as he hud news of great importance to impart to her. That was all I told him I could not give him the information lie desired, and with that he thanked me and went away. Have you any idea as to who the man could have been?'' "Yes," "1 replied, "or. at least. 1 suspect that he was the baron—her husband." "Mon Dieu ! And what makes you think that?" asked the manager, who, it was plain to see, was becoming deeply interested in the curious business. Reserving my own private opinion as to his being her husband, I then related to him my lit tie adventure at. Baden-Baden, and of her admission in the train. "He certainly answers to the description of the man whom 1 knocked down." I added. "I did not mention the circumstance because 1 thought it had no lelevancy to the question under discussionnor has it, so far as Icm perceive. However. lam glad that you have mentioned the incident. And now. sir. '[ think it would be to our mutual interest, if you would be good enough to tell me all you know about the baroness, and"

He lifted his hand and stopped me at once. "I know nothing," he said. "She was simply one of the thousands of guests we have here in tins course of the year. They come and they go. 'J hey are of many nationalities. A king travelling incognito may be stopping lieie without my having any knowledge of his identity. Thai hits often happened. Or it- may be an assassin — a fugitive from justice playing his game boldly. How can we know?'' " Quite so," I replied, "but, as I understand, the baroness was stopping here for some time. Have you never noticed her'.'" The manager at once smiled and shrugged his shoulders. " As for lltut. oh, yes ; she is a very beautiful woman, and one could not help noticing her. And then, too, she bus stopped here, on several oilier occasions." ••Always alone?" "With hot maid, oh, yes; always." A sudden thought struck me. "i)o you know the name of the maid?" I asked. Again he shrugged his shoulders, ami showed mc his two extended Maims. '•.Monsieur," he said, "what a question to ask me!" " I beg pardon," I hastened to say, " but I have reasons for wishing to know the name of that maid. Is there any way of ascertaining*:" "Possibly to-morrow, perhaps," and he looked at his watch. The movement was significant. " I won't, detain yon many minutes longer, - ' J said. "It is late, I know, and but for my deep anxiety in the matter 1 would have deferred this interview" until to-morrow. Permit me, however, to ask just, a question or two more. Had the baroness many visitors?" "None, to my knowledge," he answered. "So far as my observation went she lived a very quiet, and almost secluded life. Indeed, her meals were generally served in her own apartments. 1 particularly noticed that." "Ah! thank you," I returned, "and now for a final question—the most important of all. Was she, while, living here, molested ;d all by the attentions of a young man? Was such a circumstance ever reported to you?" He pondered for a moment, and then: "Yes, I remember now. He was for ever prowling about and lying in wait for her. She complained, but I could do nothing, though 1 warned him off the premises myself, for he bribed the servants right and left." 1 at once took Reginald's photograph from my pocket and handed it to him without a word. Why." said he, "this is the voting fellow himself." *" ° " Precisely ; the young fellow whose body was found in the baroness' Saratoga trunk at Charing Cross Station. Now, sir, you will understand the meaning and importance of my inquiries. You can no longer doubt that a crime was committed in this hotel, and 1 trust that to-morrow you will giant me any facility for continuing my inquiries among such of your servants as may be able to throw eonio light upon the baroness' movements just prior to her departure. This in your presence, -if course." He at once arose and extended his hand. ■' It shall be done, Mr. BracebrkrgCj." said

lie—"for my own sake as well as yours. Will eleven to-morrow suit your convenience?" , ... ,1 »L T "Perfectly,". I replied, ami With mac i took my departure with a certain sense oi elation." A moment later I was passing through the courtyard on my way out to the .boulevard des Capucines, when, quite casually, I espied a man sitting at one ot the little marble tables who, at that instant, was lighting a cigar. The flame :> x>t the match illumined his features and like a flash the scene at the railway station anil in the gardens of the Kursaal at BadenBaden came back to me again. Tin's was in very deed the man she had told me was her husband—the man who had been seeking her address at this very hotel not au hour since.

I pulled up short, took a seat a few paces away aud ordered a. cup of black coffee. The man possessed for me a deadly fascination. 1 studied his features— were not conspicuously pleasant ones—to the minutest detail. He smoked his cigar almost, I might say, with vehemence, shooting out gieat volumes of smoke from month and nostrils alike. Such was his self-absorp-tion, ho never gave so much as a glance in my direction. At intervals ho muttered unintelligible words, accompanied by weird gestures. Of a surety, 1 said to myself, that lovely creature could never have been enfolded in this man's arms. The idea seemed too absurd for believing, and to my eyes he looked uglier than ever. Suddenly lie pulled a packet of papers from his pocket, and, selecting one, perused it greedily, grinding his teeth with auger, 1 could plainly see, as he read. Then with a gesture that nearly swept the glasses off the table he replaced the papers in his pocket, sprang to his feet, and strode out of the court. As I rose in turn 1 perceived that he had dropped a letter or small document of some kind. Quick as a flash it found its way to my own pocket and then I rushed out upon the boulevard in pursuit of the man. Looking right and left 1 caught, a glimpse of him buying a paper at the kiosk facing the Jockey Club, then I saw him leap into a passing cab. The horse's head was turned in my direction, an easterly one, and, as the cab dashed by, 1 saw the number, 8410, and at once made a note of it. 1 then returned to the Hotel Scribe. In the vestibule the French equivalent of a pageboy stepped up to me and said that the manager would like to see me in his private office. " Certainly," I said, and the boy led the way. The. manager rose as I entered. He was as suave as on the previous occasion of our meeting—though with a difference. The difference was tangible, but difficult to describe. "Ah! M. Bracebridge," said he. "I learned that you were here once again, and am pleased to see you. 1 heard, with great regret, of your cousin's death, but to-night in the papers I read a curious thing. You, it would appear, carry the dead body of your cousin to London in a trunk, ami today 1 am told you send the same body from Brussels to" London. I do not quite understand it. Pardon me, but it places me in an awkward position as to delivering up the poor young man's luggage." I lost my temper at once. "Oh! indeed," I said. "Is there anything owing to you'.'" " Oil, no, no." "You accepted my cheque,. I believe, on payment of my cousin's account, thus releasing his luggage from any lien you might otherwise have had upon it." " Oil, quite so." " Well, that is all there is about it. The rest cannot possibly concern you. 1 thought, monsieur,-that you were a better man of business." and with that I turned on my heel and left him to his own reflections. . For a moment, as I mounted (lie stairs, 1 feared that Reginald's belongings had been removed from my room during my absence. That, however, proved not to be* the case, and, switching on the electric light, I belook myself at once to a diligent aud .exhaustive search through some half-dozen or more trunks, portmanteaux, dressing-cases, and what not. A bunch of keys found on the body at Brussels enabled "me to do this without difficulty. The long quest ended in two discoveries: one, of minor importance, to wit, a, number of empty jewel cases, bearing upon their blue velvet interiors the name of Flamborough and Co.. Old Bond-street; the other, however, proved to be of tremendous moment. Ju .i, inin.iture writing de.-k I found a half-sheet of the official note-paper of the Grand Hotel, upon which was written in a handwriting I recognised at a glance -.— " The baroness will give you rendezvous at ten this evening. Be prompt, and bring the diamond necklace, as agreed. I will meet you in the corridor.— Suzanne." I felt the cold perspiration breaking out all over me as I read this precious epistle. I had not then been mistaken after all. The baroness was a. guilty woman, aud Reginald died a murderer. (To lie continued daily.)