IN THE NAME OF THE PEOPLE.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLVIII, Issue 14589, 27 January 1911, Page 3

IN THE NAME OF THE PEOPLE.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.

BY ARTHUR W. MAROHMONT, Author of "When I was Tsar," "Tho Queen's Advocate," etc., etc. COPYRIGHT. CHAPTER X. A DRASTIC TEST. Tin- matter was obviously more serious than I had at first believed; and I realised that, as ilio authorities were aware that I knew Barosa and Inez were really revolutionaries, 1 might have some difficulty in convincing them that my knowledge had been innocently obtained. And two unpleasant possibilities loomed ahead. This hot-headed magistrate, if left to himself, might pack me off to one of their prisons; and anyone who has seen a Portuguese prison will understand my dread of such a step.

The condition of these dens of filth, wretchedness, and abomination is a black stain upon the Portuguese administration. Take the lowliest and dirtiest type of the worst doss house in London, multiply its foulest features ten times, overcrowd it with verminous brawling scum to two or three times the extent of what you would consider its utmost limit of accommodation, and stir up the whole with gaolerbullies who have all graduated with the highest honours in the school of brutality and blackguardism; and you have a typical Portuguese gaol.

A sojourn in one of those human hells was one possible result for me, and the other was even more distastefulthat a sufficiently grave view might bo taken of the case to have me ordered out of the country.

I was railing at my ill-luck in ever having learnt the facts which threatened one of these alternatives when the murmurs of many voices started below in the house swelled as it came up the stairs, and culminated in a chorus of threats and groans and curses just outside as the door was opened rnd a man was thrust violently into the room and went staggering across the floor.

He had been in the wars. His clothes were all disordered, his collar was flying loose, his coat was torn, and he had the crumpled look which a man is apt to have at, two o'clock in the morning after a night on th;- general rampage finished up with a scrimmage with the police. His first act was inspired by the sheer stupidity of rage. He turned and shook his fists at the door and swore copiously. He had quite a natural gift for cursing, and gave free vent to it. Then lie began to put his clothes straight and saw me for the first time.

" Hallo, you here ?" "Yes." Both question and answer sounded a little superfluous under the circumstances, but it turned out that he recognised me.

"Did they want you?" ho swore again as he recalled his own experiences. "Who?" "Those' infernal brutes out there?"

"Do you mean the police?" Instead of replying he gave me a sharp look and then came up close and peered inquiringly at me with his head slightly on one side.

What th 3 devil are you doing here?" "Waiting to go somewhere else; but where seems a little'doubtful at present." He laughed. " I didn't expect they'd take you yet. They're all foolsthe whole lot of them. I told them to give " you more rope." " What kind?"

"Oh, not that sort;" and he made a gesture to indicate hanging. Then wrinkling his brows he added suspiciously : You didn't com", of your own accord, did you?" " Perhaps you'll make things a bit plainer. "If you did, you'd better tell me." "If there's any telling to be done you'd better start it/' I said drily. " They got me to-night— Here, aren't you interested in Miralda Dominguez?" he broke off, lowering his voice. "I'm getting rather interested in you. Who ar? you ?" He winked knowingly. He was quite young, dark and not bad-looking, except that he had sly, ferrety eyes. "You don't know, eli? You don't remember, eh? Is that your line? Or are you on the same task as I am?"

"What i» your particular task?" *" You might have guessed it I should think. They've got about twenty of Barosa'e people here and about half a dozen police to look after them. Somebody let 'em know that I meant to save myself by telling things, and the brutes nearly tore me to bits as I came up. The devils;" and once more he cursed them luridly. "But I'll make it hot for some of them," he added, his little close-set eyes gleaming viciously. "Oh, you're an informer, are you? Well, I don't like your breed, I'm—" "Oh, I know you, of course. You're Ralph Donnington, the reputed English millionaire. I know;" and he winked again. " I saw you at the de Pinsara house the other night with Barosa. He told me you were all right. I had to tell them about you, of course. They've sucked me about as dry as a squeezed orange. Barosa told me you were interested in Miralda Dominguez—" " I'd rather not talk any more," I interposed sharply. " I suppose you know it's all up. They've got Barosa and Contesse Iglesia, and Lieutenant de Linto and heaps of others. But not his sister yet."

I affected not to hear this and took out a cigarette and lighted it. "Can you spare me one?" I put tho case in my pocket. "If you want to get her out of the mess you'd better do as I've done. Out with everything. It's the only wav. I—"

I jumped to my feet. " Look here, if you talk, any more to me I shall act as deputy for those men outside, and when I've finished with you you'll find it difficult to talk at all."

That stepped him and he slunk away to tho door and flopped into a chair, staring at me and muttering to himself, probably cursing mo as be ' had cursed the others.

Soon afterwards M. D'Olliveira came back with a couple of police, and said that Volheno was coming and would arrive in about half an hour. Then he ordered the first of the prisoners to be brought in. The informer jumped away from the door as if it was on fire and crossed to the other side of the magistrate's desk. The proceedings were very short—apparently for no purpose ether than identification. . I glanced at the prisoner and recognised him ;i& one of the men I had seen at the house in the Rua Catania. He was the scoundrel named Henriques, who had been going to striko Inez when I had entered.

He looked at the young informer with a scowl of hate and hissed out an execration.

The magistrate appealed to me first. "You know this man, Mr. Donnington?" he said sharply, and the fellow turned a scowling face on me with a half-defiant and wholly malicious expression. "Do I? If you know that, why ask me

"Don't trifle with me, sir." He knows him well enough. Ho saw him that night in. the Una Catania," broke in the informer.

" Hold your tongue," was the rough rebuke. Do you deny it, Mr. Donnington?"

"You can draw what inference you please. I decline to bo questioned by you or anyone," I replied. "I cannot too strongly warn you, Mr. Donnington, that any refusal to identify this man and any of his companions will render you a suspect.'* '

"I am quite ready to accept the responsibility." Ho turned then to the. informer and accepted his identification, made a note of it, and sent the prisoner away in custody. Another of the men I had seen in tho house was brought in, and a very similar scene was enacted, except that I held my tongue. Three more followed and then a pause. When the door opened next time Dr. Barosa wats brought in. "You know this man, Mr. Donnington?" asked d'Olliveira.

"Yes, I had tho pleasure of meeting him at the house of the Marquis do Pinsara. Good evening, Dr. Barosa ;" and I rose and would have shaken hands with him bad not the police prevented me. "Did you see him in Rua Catania?" asked the magistrate. " I have told you I met him elsewhere. That is my answer." " I am obliged to you, Mr. Donnington," paid Barosa, " but unfortunately no good purpose can bo gained by your keeping silent about anything you know. You can only com prom yourself; and as everything is now known to these people I release you from the pledge of secrecy you gave." "All," broke in d'Olliveira., gloatingly. " To tho devil with you and your grunts of satisfaction," I cried hotly, turning on him. "If you want to bribe or frighten information out of people, do it with carrion like that young brute at your side. Don't try it with Englishmen."

" How dare you use that tone to me, sir?" he exclaimed, getting up.

Barosa interposed. " I beg you not to compromise yourself further. It may lead you into a very false position and can do no good either to me or to the Contesse Iglesia. It is known quite well that you were present in the" " That's enough, doctor. If you like to tell these people what they want to know it's your affair, not mine. As for my part, I have friends quite influential enough not only to protect me, but to make it unpleasant for this hectoring gentleman hero. I am sorry to see you in this mese." He threw up his hands. "It is the fortune of war." Then he turned to the magistrate. "Now, sir, are you satisfied?" There was a pause and d'Olliveira said : Yes, absolutely." And then I had the most amazing surprise of my life. The magistrate waved hie hand and a dozen or more men, police and prisoners, mingled together, crowded into the room, and the eyes of every man present were directed on me.

Barosa stepped forward and offered me his hand.

"You must forgive us, Mr. Donnington," he aaid.

"Forgive you. What the deuce for?" " For having tested you in this drastic way. You will admit the evidence that you had betrayed us to the authorities was very stronga letter in your name to your friend, M. Volheno, and his to you thanking you for the information found in your rooms. I made the inquiries you suggested and satisfied myself of your absolute good faith. I would not believe you had broken your word, but my friends here insisted, and then this test was planned." "Do you mean— I stopped in sheer astonishment as the truth dawned on me.

"I mean that this was all an elaborate pretence. There is no magistrate hero and no police. We are all comrades in the one cause, and after what has passed no one of us will ever distrust you again. I snv that for all of us." Yes, certainly for me," said the magistrate. "For us all," came a chorus.

" Well, you fooled me all right," I said, gaping at them for a moment like a bumpkin at a waxwork show, for the suddenness of the thing almost bewildered me. Then I laughed and added: "It seems I was sitting on a bag with more gunpowder in it than I knew. Which do you expect me to do—thank you for your present confidence or curse you for your former distrust?"

"The matter is ended, Mr. Donnington," said Barosa. "And you have as much reason as we have to be glad the lesult is what it is."

"And if it had gone the other way?"

He shrugged his shoulders and replied very drily: "You had better not ask perhaps. At such a crisis our methods with those who betray us cannot be pleasant." "Which reminds me," I said, turning to the man who had played the magis—whose real name 1 learnt was Sebastian Maral —" asked me plenty of questions and there are one or two I should like to ask you. How did you get that spurious letter I was supposed to write to M. Volheno?" " I think we had better discuss those matters alone," interposed Barosa; a.nd then all but we three left the room.

"Was such a letter really written?" I asked.

"Certainly. That which you received was M. Volheno's reply to it." "Then someone did give away that Rua Catania house ? Who is it? Do you euspcct anyone in particular?' " No," said Barosa, his look darkening as he added: But we shall of course find out."

"I think you can help us, Mr. Donnington," said Maral. "The writer is obviously an enemy of yours. Can you make a suggestion?" I was fairly confident that I knew, but it did not suit me to say so. " I have not had time yet to make any enemies unless someone is after the Beira concessions and thought this an easy way of getting rid of a competitor. 'Will'you show me the original of that letter you dictated to me?"

He glanced at Barosa, who nodded, and it was given to me. I made a discovery then. Either from inadvertence or as a proof of confidence in me. Maral left on the letter, where it was pinned to the top, a strip of paper with half a. dozen words followed by the numerals 134."

I. compared the handwriting of tho letter with my own copy of the dictated party a.nd saw at- once how clumsy a- forgery it was. My signature was done well enough; the writer probably had a signature of mine and had practised it until the resemblance was striking. But (lie attempt to write an entire autograph letter was a. conspicuous failure. Then while pretending to continue my examination of the writing, I worried over the curious superscription, and it dawned upon me at length that it was a message of some sort in cypher. As the other two had their heads together in a very earnest discussion, I unpinned the cypher message and rolled it up in my palm. Its nature convinced me that it was inadvertence not confidence which had led Maral to let me see it, and I took the risk of his not noticing- its absence even if I could not do what I now very much wished— the letter itself for a. time.

"I wish to keep this letter, Dr. Barosa," I said presently. " I am afraid that is not possible. It has to be returned."

"We can get over that easily enough. You are probably as eager as I am to know who wrote it. As for. returning it, I'll write out another in rnv own hand, and that one can bo returned."

After some demur this was agreed to, and I went to the desk and wrote the duplicate letter, and was careful to fold it, up so that Maral should not miss the strip of paper I had annexed. (To be continued daily.)