A MILLIONAIRE MYSTERY.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXI, Issue 18631, 12 February 1924, Page 3

A MILLIONAIRE MYSTERY.

BY ARTHUR W. MARCHMONT. Author of "By Bight of Sword." "By Snare of Love," etc. (Copyright.) CHAPTER XXVIII. THE MURDERER. She paused there, and then continued in a level unemotional tone to give us the story of the two years. She had met and fallen in lore with Boris; he had asked her to marry him, and sne had interested herself in his matters, giving him sums of money from time to time to support his claims; in this way she had come in contact with the Bourkat agents and, becoming doubtful of Boris, had bought up his debts in order to have some hold over him. "That was when I heard that Mr. Pentlip was interested in matters and that the Duke was to marry his d aughter, He declared there was no truth in it, and then the engagement was broken off. You remember that, Mr. Waring!" "Perfectly," I agreed. It was at the time Marion had left home and came to me. "In the meantime, you had come to ask me to sell 'The Fells' and there 1 made my first great mistake. 1 was afraid you would make inquiries about me and find out things, if I refused to sell, so I agreed, and let the thing run on until the matter was complete. Of courso I could not sell what was not mine, and just when I was at my wits' end, the Duke told me of your attack on him, and I seized on that as the reason for refusing." "I remember the interview quite well," I said. "A very curious thing ha.d happened just before then. Of course I was believed to be a very wealthy woman, and my engagement to the Duke was well known to the Bourkat people. Well, x received an anonymous communication to the effect that the will on which the Duke's succession turned coul'i be obtained; and without going into all the details, I will say that I followed the matter up and succeeded in getting both the will and the wallet which were taken from Dreshed Pasha at the time he was shot near Pentlip Manor. 1 had to pay a considerable,, sum for it, but I felt that it would make it impossible for the Duke to break with me." "Because it would fix the guilt on him, you mean?" '•'No,indeed no. I am not that sort ol woman, Mr. Waring. It was only because he had always declared his eagerness to be the ruler of Bourkat, and I knew he could never be that, without the will. You need not haagine that if I had believed him a murderer, 1 would have dreamt of being his wife! I know who murdered Dreshed." "Who was it''" I asked eagerly. "Let me finish my story in my own way. The purchase of his debts, the amount paid for the will, and the expense of keeping up the belief of wealtH had almost exhausted my money, and this drove me into my second big blunder. Believing that the Duke cared for me, I told him the truth when we were at Eastbourne, urged him to marry me at once, assert his right to the rulership, and produce the will in support of his claim." "A heap of this is Dutch to me,"' said Harry, when she paused. "I'll fill in Che gaps presently," 1 assured him, "and the Duke's reply?" I added to her. "What I ought perhaps to have expected," she replied, with a gesture of bitter disappointment. "He professed to fall in with my wishes, and himself fixed the day for our marriage. I believed him absolutely, like the fool I was. Two days later Ee came to me with a story about his naving to "lhake a secret journey to London; he would only be away for one night, he said, and persuaded me to make the entry in my diary which I showed you. He returned the next day, as you know, we came back to London, and I had not the faintest suspicion of what he had done, until you came to me and told me. I thought your visit was about the secret business he had mentioned, and I showed you the diary in that belief. Then you told me the truth, and I did not know what to do. I did not believe you." "But you must have missed the wallet," I said sharply. ''Not until you had left me. He {iad one made so like it that in packing my things at Eastbourne I noticed no difference. Of course I taxed him with it at once, and he admitted the truth, the use he had made of it, the large sum of money he was to get from Mr. Pentlip, and swore that he had not the remotest intention of marrying anyone but me. Well, 1 loved him. and although neither of you can understand all that that means to a woman, you may be able to understand something of the conflict and struggle that raged in my heart before I yielded. But I did yield; and if I have been guilty of wrong, I must pay the penalty. Heaven knows I have to suffer in any event." A' long and very pain-filled silence followed. I believed she was telling the truth, and so did Harry Pentlip. "Do you say this thing vou call The Duke is here?" he said, breaking the silence and jumping to his feet. "I want a word with him." He clipped the words, his face as hard as his father's.

"Not yet,-nor here," I said. "There is much to be explained first," and only after much difficulty I succeeded in getting my way. "I believe your story," I fold Miss Kettering; "for I know the Duke to be more than - capable of any treachery. But about the murder? You say you know who did it?" "1 am glad you believe me, Mr. Waring. I declare to you solemnly I have not said one word 'that is not true. Bosides, of what usr would it be to lie? I am ruined; I have lost everything 1 1 cared for in the world, and what may happen is nothing compared with that. The man who killed Breshed Pasha is an Armenian, Essen Mered. His motive was revenge; nothing else nothing whatever to do with the Dinke's affairs. Just venge."' j "How did you . learn that?" I . "From himself." Dreshed Pasha was in command of the Armenian province in which he lived. Mered was well to do, married, with two daughters. The elder, a beautiful girl, attracted Dreshed's notice ; he carried her off, and when Mered maddened by tlie loss and ruin of his child, tried to obtain justice' and the punishment of the Pasha, the only result was that he was flung into prison. He escaped, but only to find his house burned, his wife and second daughter butchered, and himself denounced as an outlaw and utterly beggared. From that hioment , he lived only to kill the Pasha. He loved him to Constantinople, to Bourkat. and half over the Continent; and lastly to England, seeking always th* opportunity which never came until that evening in the wood near PentKp Manor. That is the story of what is called a murder. but what Mered regarded as justifiable vengeance." ''I'm plad he got him at last," exclaimed Harrv vehemently. "Where is Mered now?" f asked. "Hero in T ond*vn, in a hospital m the East Hie Royal. He is dying, or T W ,. V M prvp- hnyn told you the story. When he obtained the money from me, he i intended to return to Armenia, but li» had scarcely left me before he was run over by a motor-omnibus; he lay a long time unconscious, and you may judge the man by the fact that as soon as he recovered consciousness, he sent for me and told me everything, lest the possession of the wallet should cause me to be suspected of the mnrder. It v;as by his wish that I wrote down what he told me word for word and he sisrned it. I have it with me," and she gave it me. "When did you see him?" "Three days ago." "You are sure he is dying?" "Unless he is already dead. The doctors are amazed that he has lived so long." "Will you go to him again and, get "him to repeat it?" _ "You don't want To worry the poor devil, surely," exclaimed Harry. "Certainly I did not. but his statement unattested is of no legal value. Your father, among others, has been suspected, and there are, many reasons wfcvfhe matter should be cleared up once and for all." (To be continued daily.)