THE CASE OF LADY BROADSTONE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLV, Issue 13672, 13 February 1908, Page 3

THE CASE OF LADY BROADSTONE.

• PUBLISHED BY SFECIAti ARRANGEMENT.

BY ARTHUR W. MARCHMONT, • £nthor-'of "By Eight of Sword." " A Heritage of Peril," "When I was Tsar," " A :'.'' Courier of Fortune," "By Wit of ' Woman," etc-, et«. '[COPYRIGHT.] fr CHAPTER X^lH—(Continued.) With a smile of triumph she put them '/'back in her pocket, as she replied, " If you , had succeeded you would hare dune the same to Eva, leaving it to bo supposed that I had done it. I know your purpose." \ He showed no surprise at this reading of hi* intentions. There was a pause, and then ho said, jerking his head toward the next room: " You do not wish her to know that she is not my cousin's wife, hut it will have to come out some time." He spoke '. now with anno of his customary nonchal- : ;■ ance. ■. "That iy the one thread on which your ; life hangs." declaimed Sadie, curtly. " I'd rather lose it than be a pauper with a millstone like that Llewellyn girl round my neck. Do what you will."- .He was playing on her reluctance to bring matters to a crisis by calling up the house. " I can put up a pretty good answer'to any charge you may .make. The thread is much thicker than you say." "You have admitted your guilt.'' "To you alone, yes. But to others, no. Jack's death was an accident; and as for what you think you saw, you were mistaken. That's all. To-night I returned be- ' cause I had forgotten some important papers. The house was locked, and I thought this was my cousin's room. I was going to wake him when you mistook ma for a burgtar." He could even laugh now as he .shrugged his shoulders with an air of indifference. Words and manner both angered her. "That decides me. You shall have the chance to explain if you can," she said, as she moved back to* the bell. In doing this her eyes were for a second off his face, *nd he saw his chance to escape, and darted through the window. Direcily afterwards she heard him clamber hastily down one of the stanchions of the balcony and rash across the gravelled • drive •in headlong flight. With something like a sigh of relief, she closed tho window. It was perhaps the best ending of the incident, after all, she reflected. She could still bring both charges against him in case of need, and it would strengthen her case that, just as she had threatened to denounce him. he had fled. That the did not at once reuse the house after his flight would bo quite plausibly "and rationally explained by her reluctance to take any steps which would disturb Eva. , She had scarcely closed the window before slm was conscious of a strange feeling of weakness, and had to slip into the nearest chair and rest while she steadied Iter nerves. She had gone through the ordeal of the encounter with Dorrison without a tremor; she knew that if he had forced her die would have shot him without a qualm of hesitation, and her nerves . had been as steady as steel. But now that the tension was relaxed she began to tremble like a, scared child. In a flash she seemed to realise, with vivid and alarming distinctness, the danger through which she had passed. She had been close to death once before -—when her husband had made that dastardly attack years ago out in Helena. But she bad not known of her danger until it was all past, and she had not had to fight for her life as Dorrison had forced her to

fight. A cold chill seized upon her till she shivered and her teeth chattered; every vein seemed a channel of ice, while the perspiration stood thick on her forehead. She tried to rise, and her knees shook under her so th3t she could not stand, and .-she sat gripping the arms of the chair, confused and half dizzy, in sudden, almost paralysing, faintmess. " I am going to faint," she thought, and then an irresistible inclination to laugh seized her, and she began to giggle vacuously and stupidly, she did not know at what. With an effort, the strain of which astonished her, she succeeded An dragging herself to where her eau-de-cologne bottle stood; and after drinking a few drops mixed in water &nd bathing her temples and face, she threw off the hysterical feeling, and sat down again, and was soon able to smile at her weakness. To that mood a feeling of intense thankfulness succeeded. . She had not only escaped from the peril of death, but had saved Eva., The danger had been real and terrible, but it was over now. The last of,the fearsome risks had been met and beaten.' And she began to count up the advantages she had gained in frightening Dorrison from the house. She had indeed won the very thing she most desired. It was all important for her. plans that he should bo absent from Broadstone for the next few hours; and it was out of the question that, after such a scare, he would venture to return until she and Eva were well away on their journey. Once away, she would have no difficulty in dealing with him. But she would take no risks even for the rest of that night. She would .continue to watch. Not j that sho , feared Broadstone, now that his evil genius was gone. * He was a coward of cowards at heart; too despicable to be feared in any open encounter. But she would keep her vigil. She set the door between the two rooms open, therefore, and laying aside her black cloak sat down to wait for the dayTight and think out her course in detail. In, this way the time slipped away until she heard Eva cry out. She hurried in and found her sitting up in bed. " You called, dear," "Ah, you, Margaret. How good you ■'?■■■■ ' are. I thought I heard a noise. I had been dreaming and woko in a fright. Were ' you watching," "I could not sleep. That's all. I was ; ;:„. in my chair." J " I thought someone tried my door. I was dreaming, of course. Jiift a nightmare, I suppose. But l seemed to be awake when I heard it." " There is no one, dear." Sadie switched up the lights and showed her the room ; was empty save for themselves, and that the door was locked. " You see?" she '•'{)..: said, smiling. "I am so foolish, I know," declared ".VEva. "But it seemed so real. I shall ' be so glad when we get away. I think .'■' I want some sort of change. lam so stupidly nervous." "I'll sit here till it i.3 light, Eva. I i' 'can't sleep, so one place is an good as another;" and she drew her chair to the bedside. " Shall I read you off to sleep again?" ; • She began to read in a low tone, and presently, as Eva was about to doze off .; again, Sadie heard, or thought she heard, : a faint movement in the corridor outride v : the door of the room. She stopped to listen but Eva woke at once, and, un- ;, willing to ronf-B her fears, Sadie continued • to read until her charge had dropped asleep. Putting the book down, Sadie went to i; .the door and listened. All was still out- ■ side. Yet it was singular that they both i-# should have heard some sort of movement. H Gould anvone be about at*such a time? , ; ■; If so, for what purpose? Was the attempt to be renewed in some form? Softly and silently she passed back through the room and entered her own. 'The door leading from the corridor stood ajar. She could have taken an oath that " she hud not only closed it, but locked It also. She turned np the lights. The room was emptv. A touch of unusual nervous- "~'' h ness came"to her, and she closed and lock- ' eel the door now, without venturing to go .I Outside into the passage. mi Then she examined the roomj everyis.*;< thing was as usual, and nothing out of ";,'" its place even. " _:, ■ ■ mk Suddenly she gave a start, The black §§ cloak she* had worn was missing. And d-; with it the two pieces of cord—the evidence against Gilbert Dorrison. .~■ " Mm Someone had been in the room then, . while she had been reading to Eva. . ; 0 Who could it have been, and what could it- mean? : .■■.■■-..

CHAPTER XXIV. ..". A BASTARDLY BLOW. . Dorrison *s first impulse, as he rushed away from Sadie's room, was to continue his jour ftey to London; but aa he reached the shelter of some shrubbery, he paused to see if any alarm was raised in the Towers. ';

He chose a spot which gave him a full view of Sadie's bedroom window, and stayed there watching and thinking, his heart full of hatred for the woman who had foiled him. She held his fate in her hands; and while she lived and held that damning evidence over him, his life was not safe.

The great house remained dark; and when he had satisfied himself that she had not raised the alarm his courage began to revive. He had been profoundly frightened by the outcome of his attempt ; but he was no coward; and now his desperate situation rendered him almost reckless.

His plight was so bad that nothing could make it worse. He even regretted that he had not put everything to the hazard of an attack on her in her room. He could at least have got those cords which she had shown were on her at the time; and that would have turned his defeat into a victory. He had been a coward and, a fool; but was it too late even now to get them For a short time he thought this over, and soon came to a decision. He could get into the house again easily enough. He had the key of one of the side doors; and regretted now that he had not used it to enter before, instead of seeking to make it appear that the attack on her had come from the outside.

He would take tho risk of going to his room; ami in the morning could use the excuse he had vamped to Sadie—that he had forgotten some papers and had left the train at Westchester to return for them.

He reached his room without difficulty and sat down to meditate his next move*. He must get those cords and so "draw that she-devil's teeth" at any cost. He dared not lot them remain in her possession. His life was the stake and he gritted his teeth as all his fighting instinct revived.

One great advantage he had over his enemy. She would never believe he had returned to the house. She would be far less on her guard than before and the sooner he coiUd make his effort, the more likely was she to be caught by surprise. He must do nothing violent, if it- could be avoided. Ho had now lost the chance of proving an alibi. He must have a story that would ring true in the face of his return to the house. He must content himself with regaining possession of the evidence. Robbery only this time; not violence. i

She had shown that she had the cords in her pocket during their encounter ; and he recalled that she had worn the black cloak when he had caught her eavesdropping. What would she be likely to do with it!

He knew from Gardiner and his own observations that Sadie had left her boxes in the old room, when changing to that next to Eva's; and it was not a difficult guess that she would hide the cords in one of them. To get to them, she would have to cross the corridor and with this thought, his plan was soon ready. He would wait outside the door until she crossed from the one room to the other,* and use the darkness to take tho cords from her by stealth if possible ; force, if necessary. He took off his boots and set out at once for his place of ambush. He knew the house so well that the lack of a light did not trouble him at all. As he passed Eva's door he stopped and listened. He hoped to have heard something to show that Sadie was with her but there was not a sound.

Then he passed on to the door of Sadie's room and, lying at full length on the ground and putting his ear to tho'floor, he could hear her movements.

The suspense tried his patience to the uttermost, and at length he began to fear that she was not coming out of her room at all. The fear started a fresh perplexity. If she did not come out, he must find some way to enter the room. The door was locked. With deft and noiseless movement he ran his finger up to the keyhole, and felt the protruding end of the key. He cursed himself for not having thought of this before. He had had to open locked doore before, and there was no difficulty in it. He had in hi 3 room a pair of pliers specially adapted for such work; but to get them he must leave his post; and in. the meantime she might come out and his chance would be lost. But those pliers he must have at any cost. Taking a postage stamp from his pocket, therefore, he fastened it so that if anyone opened the door in his absence it would be torn. The stamp would have to act as sentry while he was away. He was soon back; and as he passed Eva's door, he stood agahi to listen; tried the handle very gently, finding the door locked like the "other. Then he passed on to his old position. (To, be continued daily.)