THE MAIN CALLED GILRAY

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXVII, Issue 8457, 17 June 1913, Page 2

THE MAIN CALLED GILRAY

By FRED M. WHITE, Author of “The Crimson Blind,” “The Cardinal Moth,” “ Blackmail,” “ Craven Fortune,” “A Front of Brass,” &c., &c.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

[COPYRIGHT]

CHAPTER XV.—THE GIRL CALLED

ESME. The woman asked the question quite naturally. There was no suggestion of guilt or deliance about her, nothing out an uneasy fear gleaming in her ■yes. She looked just like a dog does then he is not quite certain as to his reception at the hand of • strangers, j'rom the slender lines of her figure .iid her quick easy movements, Tombs guessed her to be young. Youth ./as suggested in every line of her jody. Her face was pure oval and v ory fair to look upon, though it carried a suggestion of pain and suffering which gave it an odd expression jf experience and worldly knowledge. It was an honest, open face enough, uid Temple admitted its attract! /e----ness. For some reason he felt kindly disposed towards her. “Will you be so good as to tell me your other najne,” Phil taid. The girl hesitated just a moment. She did .not seem to quite graso the easy question. The ghost of a smile bitted over her face —there was a tinge of bitterness in it. “Does it really matter P” she murmured. “There is not- much in aname. W 7 e are called one thing, then lit marry, and we are called another. Will .not Esme do?” “I’m afraid not,” Temple explained. “In’the circumstances, no.” “Ton say in the circumstances and not under the circumstances. You are a man of education, monsieur. - A gentleman. Therefore I ask you will not Esme do?”

“I am loth to . trouble you,” Temple went on, “but Esme won’t do. I am quite certain .that the police would decline to accept an answer like that,” “Yes?” she asked the question with a pretty curiosity that sat well on her. “I thought that I had one name till lately, but I find‘that I am mistaken. I was called Esme Legarde. That was my father’s name. Is there any other information that I cgn give you; sir?” • “I hope- a good deal,” Temple said gravely. “Your, home was Vienna?” “Yes. There I was born. You have the advantage of me, monsieur.” There was dignity in the girl’s voice, she spoke more or : less as if v-o-irdod Temple ,as an impudent intruder on’her privacy, Was she „ uouy and entirely ignorant or was she a wonderful actress? For the.life of him, Temple could: act answer the question. _ - “My name, is Temple,” he said. “Phifip Temple; l - lam the editor, of the ‘Southern Weekly. Heraldi* It is just possible that‘i’qUj,have" heard of this paner.” A responsive glegm came into’ the girl’s eyes. Her smile grew warm and friendly. “I am yery pleased .to . meet-you,” she said. “Editors are always l interesting people, especially to people who write for them. lam a novelist, monsieur.” • “I know, it,” Phil said, coolly. “Your pen name is Edward Seymour Bcaff,” A queer little cry. came from the girl’s lips. She attempted no denial of Temple’s statement, she made 1 no protest against it. She was astonished, curious, frightened, all at the same time. In a vague kind of way Temple felt sorry for her. “ How did you manage to find that out?” she whispered. “ We will take things in their proper order, if you please,” Phil said. “ 1 suppose you know that this house is in ■the hands of the police- The keys belong to them, and they are keeping a close eye on the jplace. ■ How did you get here?” , “ I got here by using my own latchkey,” the girl said, simply. ■ “Your own latchkey. Then you live here?”

“ I did for eighteen months. Till the other day, in fact, X came back here for something I had left behind me, and you caught me, monsieur. That is all.” “ Well, yes’ in a way, perhaps, Phil said, .suppressing a smile. “ But I am afraid the police would not accept your statement in that casual way. A murder has been committed here, and the police are searching everywhere for evidence. They are particularly anxious t° find a certain Esme who had been a resident in the house ever since Mr Gilray came here. The girl in question died about a fort-' night before Mr Gilray’s death. And yet, on the face of that, here is somebody who answers to the name of Esme actually in the house at the present moment. She came here in the dead oi the night with a latchkey. She appears to be quite familiar with the house. And yet the police are told that she is dead and buried- How do you reconcile these two statements. Miss, Legarde?” “It is precisely as you say, the. girl remarked, composedly. 1 ‘ I’m afraid you dpnlt understand. Temple went on, “ a most important witness has vanished. She might have explained the whole mystery. You have read the paper ?” . _ r •< 1 have done so, monsieur, vou are telling me nothing. that is news. “ Then 1 in that case I will speak a little more plainly. Why did you leave the house in such a way that pertain people might regard you as dead - ? How did you manage to get a doctor s certificate? You would not have done so without somebody to assist you. A»hy this mystery?” The girl hesitated a long time before she replied. For the first time Temple had touched her. , “1 am in deep and bitter trouble, she said simply. "I am an innocent .woman who lias been fooled by a scoundrel. I have but_ one friend in the world, and he is a visionary, a poor ; faithful fellow who his best in his small way. Sir, you look good and —you are 3 gentleman. Ypn would not like to do'a poor girl an injury.” “1 should be sorry to do anybody an injury,” Phil said, touched by the pleading tone- “That yon are in great trouble it is quite easy for anybody to see. And I am inclined to believe yon. It may be weakness on my part to confess it, hut I am. You came here looking for something.” , “I came here looking for somethingyes. It is; no-great matter.”

“Not on the face of it,” Temple said. “But what you are looking for might have an important bearing on the case if it fell into the hands of the police. Have you found the missing chapter?” “The missing chapter!” Esme Legarde gasped. “How do you know?” “Well, as I explained to you before, there are a great many things that I know,” Temple smiled. “Yes—l have read the story. It was submitted to my paper in the ordinary course of business. I put it aside to read and should have done so sooner of later, when the thing was thrust upon me in a very dramatic and unexpected manner. Did you send a' messenger to get the story back?” “I told a friend that I wanted it back—yes.” “That is not precisely a reply to my question,” said Temple. “Did you try and get it back P” “Well, I gave somebody authority to do so. Perhaps I may tell you some day why I was so-anxious to regain possession of my manuscript. ” “Would you mind telling me the name of your friend ?” The girl looked at Temple with troubled, uneasy eyes. It was easy tq see what was passing in her mind.

“1 cannot map you unless you aiv perfectly candid with me,” Tempio sa,d. “N.ow just let me recall tfie cl.i-, cumstances to your recollection. A story cam© to me from somebody called Scatf, of 99, bafseuet street. 1 piu one story aside for consideration. A few days later a wild-looking creature comes into ' the dtiice demanding the story back. He is furious because Ik can’t get it back on the spot. He returns at midnight and forces his way into the oUice to try and steal the story. He does not know that 1 am working there late, and so he is oaken red-banded.' Then he tells me a lie. I was here with my friend Inspector Sparrow on the night of the murder, and I found here amongst other things a sheet of a story typed. That typed sheet actually forms part of the story submitted to me as editor of the ‘Southern Weekly Herald’ —the very story that your messenger tries to steal. Now as a clever writer yourself, you cannot fail to be struck 6y. the coincidence. I cannot fail to perceive that there is some very cogent reason for getting the story back. W T hen I read the story I discover that certain chapters have been taken out and tfie narrative compressed. My training told me that, also I could see how the figures on the pages and the heads of the chapters had been ? altered. When I know . that you were the Lsme that once lived here, and; when 1 kuen that you ’ were! also ‘Edward Seymour Scaff.’- ft did. not need much .intelligence on my part to complete the puzzle. Now 1 also came here to find the missing chapters.” “vvby?” tne girl gasped, “Why did you do that?” ~ ’ 1 “Because it occurred to me that they might throw some light, on the death, of John. Gilray. As you lived in the house for eighteen mcntlis with him, you must have known something. And just before his death you vanish ‘in the most mysterious, manner. How did you do it?” . “Ofi, 1 was not so ill as they imagined,” the girl whispered. “My trouble -was more of the mind than the body, though one reacted on the other. There were reasons why I should not remain reasons. It was I who imitated Mr Gilray’s voice and told the doctor I was dead. ■ He was a careless doctor, and I - knew that he would not trouble to verify the statement for himself. And Mr Gilray helped me. Quite innocently I had committed a great crime.” “What was that?”

- “I.had married Mr Gilray. He was my husband. I married him in England after my mother died. * ■ My mother was English, and that is hew I came to know the language so well. Mr Gilray married me, and I came here to keep house for him.. I was more like a. slave, than a wife. He gave me no money, he permitted mo only to speak of myself as his servant.”

“He seems to have been a nice sort of man,” Phil muttered. -“Of all the men I ever met, the. ■vilest and worst,” Esme. said passionately. “The little money I had 1 earned for myself by writing stories during the time ‘ my husband was away. He left me for days at, a time. I assumed the name of Scaff, and 1 had my letters sent to newspaper shops. A faithful old friend, of my father’s family helped me —the same man who came for the story. And when my husband tired of me he told me that I had committed a. crime against the laws, of .England, and that if anybody found out X should be most severely punished.” “Indeed I” Phil exclaimed. “And what crime was that?” “The crime of bigamy. I found out quite by accident that Mr Gilray had a wife living. He only laughed at me when X taxed him with it and told me I could do nothing. Ho said that though I was innocent I should suffer if the police got to the bottom of it.” “And you actually believed a statement like that?” Phil exclaimed. The girl, spread out her. hands in a helpless gesture. . “What could I do?” she asked. “1 have only been in London eighteen months. I have naturally lived the life of a prisoner. It seemed to me just possible that that was one of your laws. We have laws just as cruel and harsh in Austria. I wanted to escape, and my illness helped mo. John Oilrav was oiily too gl&d to got rid of me. He was party to my disappearance. I vanished. It was only after I got news of his death that I thought of the story. There were parts in it that might have been misread if they found their way into other hands. I did get the story back, and so far I was quite “But you didn’t get the story back!” Phil said. “It is in my hands at this present moment. What you have w a copy expressly forged for you by the police. Still - " (To be Continued.)