LONESOME MILLIONAIRE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVII, Issue 14551, 13 December 1910, Page 3

LONESOME MILLIONAIRE.

BY BURFORD DEEANNOY, Author of '.'The Margate Mystery," " Tlie Moneylender," etc. CHAPTER XXXIX. THE SCENE SHIFTS. His stiffened) again directly. He was ' the kind of man who, once he had formed an opinion, needed a charge of dynamite to shake it. He had formed his own conclusion about his late governess. That, however, troubled me but little. I just came to the point of the interview, so far as I was personally concerned, and said : '' You are Mr. Mowbray's business man. You will probably be the first to know when he returns. I want to know that. Here is my card." I placed one in front of him. " Kindly telegraph me when your client returns to London. It is urgent that he should see his niece. Never mind whether you suspect that she is not his relative, or that she may be a feminine Jack Sheppard. Your opinion oil that subject —you like plain talk, you know—isn't worth a penny farthing." His face went to the hue of pickled cabbage vinegar. "He'll know whether she's the sort of girl you think her, or whether she is to bo taken to his bosom as his long-lost chee-jld. Fail to move quickly, and, however well he may think of you, Mr. Collingwood, as a man of business, that opinion will drop down to zero if ho finds you neglect to act when it is necessary to do so." With that—priding myself on the fact that I had furnished him with material to put in his pipe and smoke— picked up my hat and bade him a tender farewell. Somehow, my manner grated on the old lawyer. I left him with a face which, in colour, reminded me of the wattles of an anaemic turkeycock. Consulting my watch as I left Collingwood's office, I saw that it was about the time that judges knock off work at the Law Courts. If they had " risen," I should find Barrsprobably getting into that venerable coat of hisin his chambers. Intent on interviewing my old friend and discussing affairs with him, I started to saunter in the direction of the Temple. As I came out into Holborn, whom should I see, sitting in a passing hansom, being driven in an easterly direction, but Ferrari ! To hail another hansom, jump in and give the driver directions to follow the cab ahead was the work of a minute. Then I leant back and adjusted my considering cap. It was all very well to be on tho enemy's track, but what should I do when I came up with him ? Ferrari's cab wheeled round into Chancery Lane. My driver turned his vehicle after it. We followed along Fleet-street and over Blackfriars Bridge. In the main road the first driver drew into the kerb; it was evident that the driver was going to pull up. The man perched up behind mo knew his business. Apparently ho thought ho had a detective for a fare. Anyway, he drove past the first cab, calling down to me through the trap, as he did so : "The gent.'s getting out. Shall I turn and pull up on the other side?" I answered affirmatively. He turned, and a few moments after I had handed him a liberal fare through the hole in the roof and alighted. Ferrari had turned down the street at the corner of which his cab had stopped. I crossed the road and turned into the street too, walking some distance away from my quarry on the other side. Doubts assailed and Bewildered me. Ought I to summon the aid of the police and give my enemy into custody? Then, I wondered, would any officer take the charge? What could I furnish'as proof? Then, too, a twenty-eight-shillings-a-week South London constable would probably possess brains very little better than a blackbeetle's. - Ferrari suddenly turned out of the street down which wo had proceeded some way, and walked into a quiet square. He had no suspicion that he was being followed. So far. I had experienced no difficulty in "trailing" him. He slackened his walk the moment he (entered the square, and at last halted outside one of the houses of it. There ho started to whistle the "Marseillaise." It was a signal—l grasped that in a moi merit. Signal for what? It was necessary to know that. Ferrari's back being towards me, I was able to get closer, and even contrived to, unobserved, ascend the steps of the next house and stand in the shelter of the doorway. Fortunately for the success of my watching. the shades of evening were beginning to fall. Drawing a newspaper from my pocket I opened it and pretended to be reading, so the lower part of my face was hidden. If Ferrari looked my way he would suppose me to be the tenant of the house taking an evening airing. True, I was not standing at the door of my house in shirt sleeves—as is the custom over the water. I could only hope that the etiquette of the Blackfriars Road was unknown to Ferrari. Anyway, I had to chance it. I proved right. The " Marseillaise" was a signal. The door of the next house was presently opened, and a man came out, Foreigner No. 2. Ho walked down the steps, and the two men stood talking together, in such irritatingly low tones that I could not catch a word of the conversation. I would have given the world to know what they were talking about and why they stood outside, instead of going into the' house. Presently they became less cautious. Plainly, whatever the nature of the discussion, there was not agreement between them. From what resulted, I guessed that one had called the other some displeasing nameanyway, the sparks began to fly. Suddenly I saw the flash of steel in Fer-' ari's hand. His arms was raised as he cried : You traitor !" Thereupon — seemed a sort of cue for me to step on the scene cried out too. I felt no fear, because I, too, was armed trust me for not being found napping again ! In the moment it was needed. I could produce a six-shooter from my hippocket with the rapidity of a Western cowboyl had rehearsed it for hours, before a mirror. But I had not taken up my cue quite quickly enough. Ferrari's arm fell, and I saw the stranger stagger as if about to fall. Whether from the effects of a_ wound or a blow I was unable to determine, All I could do was to go fo his side swiftly, to see. As I did so, Ferrari rushed off. I assume that he looked on me— the'man on the ground evidently did—as a police officer. Peering into the stranger's face, I was satisfied, by the expression he wore, that ho was more frightened than hurt. Immediately my thoughts -went to his assailant. Turning my head I saw that Ferrari had disappeared— completely as if he had dropped through one of the coal plates which dotted the pavement— sprite in a pantomime ever vanished down a trap quicker. That was irritating after all the trouble taken in following him. 'I turned to the man again. He looked at my weapon, then up into my face, and questioned shortly : "Police?" Experience has taught me that silence is golde.a sometimes. I thought it might prove so now. So instead of answering his question, I put another. "Are you hurt?" " No," he answered, feeling himself all over as if to —what rum beggars/ foreigners are ! " A scratch." "I saw a knife." " And I felt it. But only its point. It glanced off, fortunately. It was more the blow of the hilt which sent me sprawling." By that time he had scrambled to his feet. " Curse him!" "Meaning Ferrari?" Who else?" Then his manner changed as he grasped the fact that I was acquainted with the name, and he looked at me suspiciously. " You know him?" " His nameas you heard. But he is not entered on my list of-friends. " Curse-himj.

"By all means you find anathemas any relief to your feelings. Personally, a wide experience has caused me to arrive at the conclusion that curses don't get you any forrader,' so to speak." I'll get level with him," a baleful look shaped on his face, "some day." "Ah!" I began to see profit in this interview. " Now we have an ambition in common." "You are," lie ouestioned, the look of distrust shaping in his eves again as he stepped back a pace nearer the door, " of the police, then?" From tho policy of silence the gilt disappeared. Evidently the officers of the law found no favour in the eyes of this gentleman from another land. I hastened to correct any wrong impression, saying : " You are wrong, my friend. My quarrel with Mr. Ferrari is rather of a private nature. I happen to know that the police are on his track, but I am not a policeman. Let them do their own work." The look of suspicion gradually faded from the stranger's face. <He examined me minutely for a moment, and then said vengefully : " I've sworn to be revenged for the wrong Ferrari has done me." "He seemed," I remarked, "to think you had wronged him. I heard him, prior to the production of that little knife of his, call you a traitor." " There lies my difficulty in getting even with him. In aiming at him I must hit others. He lied when he called me a traitor. lam staunch and true as steel to those who are true to me." " Hear, hear, every time!" It was good policy to agree. "'Them's my sentiments,' as Mrs. Partington remarked. And so they run counter to the other feeling; to get square with the man who has wronged you?" " Curse him !" \ " Feeling a need to relieve yourself again? Don't mind me." Then, suddenly thinking of Marion, I blurted out: " Do you happen to know anything of a man named Bittern— Bittern?" "Anything? Everything. He has cause to hate Ferrari if any man has. But the law in this country of yours is a curious one. It seems made to protect rogues rather than honest men. Don't," he added suddenly, "think I am posing as 'honest.' I am not a scrap better than the rest of them, if it comes to that. I only meant that over the company swindle in which Bittern was involved, Ferrari and the others would have been tried— my countryby a criminal judge. Here the law protects them." "Our English law undoubtedly has its weak spots. In the desiro to avoid mistakes, justice is continually tumbling ovc-r itself. But let's get back to the subject of our friend. As I said, we have a common object; can't you help me to rope him in?" " Here, in this country, no. Over yonder," lie jerked his thumb over his shoulder, but whether he meant the not far distant Elephant and Castle, or Italy's sunny land, was left to conjecture, " I could, without risk to others, send him to tho galleys." " Good. That has a cheering note in it. It is nice to picture the gentleman in the galleyswhatever they are. Can't you give me a, hint or two that will enable me to givo him a lift in that direction ?" " —no. Your extradition laws," lie laughed shortly, as if the notion amused him, "want ' greasing.' We have more summary methods yonder." He jerked his thumb yonder. The action was most irritating. I like to know what a man means when he is talking. He really might' have meant either the Camberwell New Road or the Coliseum at Rome. I hate to be left in doubt on such matters. CHAPTER XL. A LOOSENED TONGUE. ' Whilst we were talking in that' quiet square off the Blackfriars Road, the shades 01 evening descended still lower. From time to time I looked around searchingly, wondering whether Ferrari might not be prowling about, with a view to finding a sheath for that long-bladed knife of his. I was not hungering to know what a stab in the dark felt like. " Look here," I said at last, when the feeling was beginning to get on my nerves, this isn't the most comfortable spot on earth for two gentlemen"note the policy of politeness!— have a quiet chat in. What do you say to coming to my rooms ? A cab will land us there inside of a-quar-ter of an hour. We may be of help to each other?" He fell in with the suggestion. When he had closed the street door, which he had left open when ho came out to meet Ferrari, we walked out of the square. I was not without suspicion of the reason why he did not invite me inside. Reaching the Blackfriars Road, a cab was hailed, and I gave the driver my address. It did not take us long to reach home. When I had got my man in and seated, with the whisky bottle in front of him, I said : "My name is Richard Cunningham. What's yours?" "Max Pinoli." Instantly there was conjured before my mental vision the waxed-moustached little proprietor of that Soho restaurant whore you can obtain nearly half a dozen courses for double as many pence. Turning and concealing a smile, I said : " Help yourself to the fire-water; it's from the land of the Shamrock, if that doesn't offend your palate. The syphon's at your elbow. Mix." "You asked my name," he said, as he blended a drink. " I gave it. But it conveyed very little to you. One man in his time plays many parts. All the world's a stage, as your Shakespere says. - Most of the actors are bad ones ! My real name hasn't figured on the programme. You'll be more interested to hear that I am Riches." " What!" I almost jumped cut of the chair in my surprise. Then I said : "Do you mean to tell me you are Bittern's partner?" "Put your question in the past tense, and I shall be able to answer affirmatively." " But— is extraordinary !" " I thought you'd think so." " Yes, yes. But I mean you are supposed to have boltedwith well-lined pockets lands where extradition laws are unknown and policemen trouble not." "An ingenious rumour. It was cleverly set going to foul the tracks. As a matter of fact, I have never quitted England. As for my pockets, they are, practically, empty." " But it was said you feathered your nest before the final—" " And, theoretically, what was said was correct. The mistake was about the nest; that was really someone else's." " I don't understand." " I was only an instrument used by the gang who worked the scheme." "You are going to tell me?" (To be continued, daily.)