THE BITE OF - - THE LEECH.

Otago Witness, Issue 2565, 13 May 1903, Page 59

THE BITE OF - - THE LEECH.

Being one of {lie Memoirs left by the late CoHiel Sir Nigel Lacaila, X.C.8., of Scotland Yard. Edited by Patrick Home. «. By W. A. MACKENZIE, Author of "His Majesty's Peacock," "Tho Glittering Road," etc., etc. [Copyright.] CHAPTER XX.— MBS OXBORROW TALKS. EFORE I come to the events of the Friday and Saturday at Bradminsber I must tell yon something of how Krmenrcd Sword renewed his acquaintanca with me. My huiband came horn« one evening- from the city, full of what he called a "good story." He had been leaving Lloyd's in a great hurry to get to his office in time to despatch on important communication to America. In fining down Cornhill he ran violently into a man going in the opposite direction. Clayton trod upon his toe, and at the same time contrived to knock off his hat, which fell into the roadway and was quickly squashed by the wheel of a passing cab. His apologies were taken with some illgrace by the victim, but Clayton insisted on conducting him to a hatter's near by. where the battered headgear was replaced. ■ They exchanged cards ; and, on seeing my husband's name, the stranger said, "Ah, you must be the Oxborrow who married Miss Lois Carthew." Clayton said he was. "Then," said the other, "kindly present my compliments to Mrs Oxborrow, for I knew her years ago. We were excellent friends then." My husband passed me the card, and I read Sword's name. " 'The acquaintance so made was not allowed to drop. Business, it seemed, brought them together from time to time, and both of them being deeply interested ir> some company just then, my husband brought him to the house several times. Tho situation was not a pleasant one for me, but I had to make the best of it, assuming a friendliness that I did not f,eel, for I could not let my husband see how I hated the man. Whenever opportunity arose — that is, of our being alone, — Sword always brought tho conversation round to that summer I would have given the world to forget. He also discovered my secret ; he discovered that I loved John Oxborrow. One night he said to me, "Curious, Lois, that you should have married one brother when you were engaged to the other." I did not answer. "Oh, there's no need of secrets between old friends like us," he went on. "You see, I met 'dear John' in Java two or three years ago. Poor devil, he was in very low water, and I helped him. He was grateful to me and told me all his story — everything. H«; was very sore over the way ydi treated him. But you were quite right, Lois, you were quite right. You took my advice, not to look on things too seriously. I suppose you know John is in this country?" No. I did not know that; and I did not believe Sword when lie told me. It was only his way of torturing me. " 'Then he began to pay me odious attentions, and I had to pretend illness when he was coming to dine. I had to refuse invitations to country houses, because I knew he would be there. Indeed, I would not have gone- to ftrndminster for (hit i'wl'ul week had I known he was coming. But mv husband kept it from mi> Mitil the last moments. And then I could not back out. " "And now I come to that Friday evening. You remember how I retired to my room before the men arrived. I dreaded meeting Sword ; that was the sole reason- of mv* discourteous treatment of my guests. There was really nothing wrong with me but sheer disgust of that man. The constant effort to avoid him had begun to tell on my nerves; and the mere fact of knowing that he was under the same roof with me produced in me such horror that, in spiia of myself, I felt morbidly excited. j I locked myself in my room and strove to \ banish all thoughts of him from my mind by reading. But the print danced before my eyes, and my brain caught no sense from the page. Then I thought that a brisk walk in the night air might soothe me a little and enable me to get some sleep. It was about half-past 10 when I left the house by a side entrance, to which I had, of course, a duplicate key. I struck into the high road, and began to walk in the direction of Dillineham. I had left the hall behind me some half-mile, perhaps, when I heard footsteps advancing towards me. The night was dark, but I was not timid. So, instead of turning back, I resolved to go on and finish my walk. Soon I saw the glow of a cigar; and in another moment it <vas removed from the newcomer's ]ips, and a voice from the darkness said, rather thickly. I thought. "Is this the right road for Bradminster Hall?" I stood rooted to the spot. All the blood in my body seemed to freeze, for I recognised tha voice. I wonld have known it among a thousand. I could not be mistaken. It was John Oxborrow's. I stood there clutching at my throat and gasping for breath while he repeated his question. Then when mv lips moved I could only utter his name. "John?" he laughed; "yes, that is mv name. But who the mischief are you?" "I am Lois," I answered. " 'What passed next I do not know, but in a little while we calmed down suffi.- '

ciently for me to ask what lie w\as doing there, how it was he had come back to England, and ail the other questions thai rose naturally to my lips. In a few sentences he told me his stoiy. He had left! this country and gone abroad, ■wandering hither and thither for a few months, ultimately finding employment with a Dutch I shipping company and being sent to Java. I There he had met Sword, who -was osteny. I sibly travelling for pleasure, but who iraa i really the agent of a Dutch mining syndicate. He explained to me how Sword managed to get an ascendency over him;; how Sword had heard of the charge of forgery and bad used that knowledge ta coerce him to do things, criminal things, .for his (Sword's) benefit. All that is tod long to tell now^ John had many time* tried to break away from his influence, but/ his efforts were useless, for he found that! Sword had many spies to serve him, stf that he could do nothing without his evil genius coming to hear of it. Then, hi^ business being finished in «ava, Sword was returning to Holland He compelled Join* to throw up his position and follow him.; And then— l do not quit? understand this yet, for John was not explicit^Swor4 forced^ him to become a member of a gaiig of thi-eves and swindlers — a gang whqa&:' i head Sword is. "I have striven," saia' John, "to break a-way from him and this crowd, but I am hemmed in on every side.I never know who may not bs a brothel member. Perhaps you yourself, Lois, arrf one. There are hundreds of us ; we all have to aratch each other. I have served Sword for years ; but now I mean to ba free, and this night will settle it." "Yoa are going to meet Sword?" said I. "la that what you have come for?" "Listen !"■ ! said he. "To-day, for him, I have stolen • forty thousand pounds' worth of diamonds.I have carried them by his orders from London to Bradminster Quay. I have handed them over to the captain of hi* yacht, the Hirudo, lying there ; and in a few hours they will be well on their way to Holland. And what So I get for this"?! A few pounds — enough to keep me in clothing and food, while he and the heads of the so-called syndicate reap the profits. I am not a thief by nature ; but, if I am. to be a thief, let me have the benefit of my thieving. All the same, I am going to be free, and I will be free this night.""How are you to meet him?" I asked., "My intention was," said he, "to hava walked up to the front door and ask for 1 liim ; a foolish notion bred of drink — for I have been drinking, Lois. But now you can help me. Will you tell htm that f am here and must speak with him? You will do this for me?" "If you insist uponi it, I will." "Insist upon it? No," ha answered. "You would not put it lika that if you knew how strong is my desire to be free of this Brotherhood of Leeches."' "Leeches !" I said. "What do you mean by that?" "Ah," he answered, with a wild laugh, "that is what we are ; and that, too, is our name. One of Sword's brilliant turns of fancy. We bleed society., We suck it to feed ourselves. But will you' ask him — or, rather, if I write a note, will you have it conveyed to him?" "Yes,'*said I ; "I should prefer to do that." Sa 1 while I held matches for him he scribbled a line or two on a leaf from his pocketi book. Together we walked t« the hall gate, and there I left him. Once insida the house, I considered how I was to get the message into Sword's hands. The < solution came to me quickly ; for, as 13 passed along the gallery, I saw that there was light below his bedroom door. It was now close on 12 o'clock, and everyone had retirs'd. I knelt down, and, pushing the pap?r below the door, flipped it with my> finger, tapped lightly, and then hurried away to my own room. I went to bed, but not to sleep. I was too full of excite* ment for that. '"For first there was my unexpected, almost miraculous meeting with John Oxborrow ; and then there was a feeling of dread that his interview with Sword, if Sword would indeed trouble to go to him, might have a perilous issue. And, more, I <;ould not help being shocked at the terrible change which had come over the honest, true man I had known — the change that had turned him from being one of tha best men in the world into a criminal mora or less cynical and indifferent, in spite of his expressed desire to be quit of it alt I said to myself, "He has been the victim of circumstances." But there was poor comfort in that. Yet — and yet — I loved him more than ever ; for wit?i my love was mingled sorrow that one who had j been so high should have fallen so low. •The lower he was the more need he had of love to raise him. I had a husband, I had children. I would give up them and my good name to help the man I loved, to help him to self-respec+ and the pride in doing right. " ' It might have been half-past 12 when I heard footsteps go quietly along the gallery, and I also heard my husband's bedroom door shut. It might have been one hour, it might have been two after that, when a tap came to my door and I heard Clayton's voice. "Are you sleeping?" he asked, and I answered, "Xo ; what is ifc you want?" "Have you got a pair of scissors there?" he said ; "1 want one." I did have one that I had borrowed from Klara that afternoon ; and, knowing where it lay on. my dressing table, I got up, found ife in the dark, opened my door, and handed it to him. He took it, and went away without saying anything. And then I knew nothing more until luncheon time on Saturday — although I feared the worst. For John had promised to send me a tele' gram from Southwell if all had gone right with him, and no. telegram came. So Isummoned up courage to appear at luncheon and learn, if possible, from Sword's face something, or. anything, of the doings of the night. But from him I learned nothing. No; I was made to endure the greater torture of hearing it all from half a dozen tongues — of knowing that his murderer sat there, facing me at table. I wanted to get up and denounce him before you ah 1 ; but the vision of the poor dead man kept constantly rising up before me, so that all my vitality seemed to centre in my eyes and leave my toncue useless.:

I left the table, Jdo not know how. My i>rain was burning ; my heart seemed every .moment as :f: f it were going to burst ; and all I could do was to fling myself on my bod and long for the tears to come. I thought the cup of my sorrow was fuL 1 and brimming over. I did not know then that ■"• was to follow — that I, who Wed dead man, who loved him still i-. . of his dreadful change of character, over which I grieved, who loved him more dead than ever I had loved him living — I did not know then that I was to W .ompelled to help in burying him.' j CHAPTER XXL— MRS OXBORROW FINISHES TALKING. " ' It was getting dark on Saturday afternoon -.vhen my husband came to my room. "Was it you," were his first words, "who lipped a note below Sword's door last night'/" I nodded. "Then," suid he, "you know too much, and you must not talk. Where did you meet my brother, and ihcwY" I told him what I have told you. "Then," said Clayton, "if he spoke of those •who crave him employment i: that way, it was high time that his mouth was stopped. You know that he is dead?" "Yes," I answered, "and I know his murderer?" "Murderer!" he exclaimed; "don't talk rubbish. It was nothing of the ort. 'This is what happened. Swore l went out .and net him. and they walked up and down the road quarrelling. John became more exorbitant every moment in his de- ; mands for money. Sword would not give •way. Then John's violent temper got the better o"f him, and he attempted to assault Sword. The excitement was too much for ; ibim. His evil courses, his drinking and other dissipations, hed weakened his heart, < ard.l think he must have burst a blood • vessel in the brain. For as he was in the act of striking Sword, he stumbled and fell. Aiter a moment or two, and when ha did not rise, Sword bent over him, and was . Horrified to find that he was dead. He j c;v Sack here foi me, and together j •w loved him into the nearest building, : w! happened to be Coster's barn." "How did you get in there?" I asked. "The door , -ivas open," he answered. "And why did : you not bring him here?" said I. "He had \ brought quite enough disgrace on me," said i Cla v .'>n, ''without my having to renew it j a!: r again by having his drink-soaked j co brought into my house. I would ; ihav nothing to do with him when he was alive; still less would I trouble ovei him ■when he was dead. If I had my way, I j ■would blot out the memory that I had a brother at all. I have done my best now j to hide his identity, for I came back and ; borrowed a pair of scissors from you^ " "Why did you do that?" I interrupted. "So that I might cut from his clothing any i ; marks that might lead to his identity. | But now this old fool, Lacaita, who will j poke his nose into things that don't con- j cern him, seems to think he's going to , make a mystery out of it. One thing I : couldn't remove, and that was the tatooing i on John's arm. That may give a clue for Lacaita to work from. ~Ro\v, all that must ( be stopped, and you've got tc help." "I help you !"' I cried "And why must I help you?" "Because I wish it," he replied. ! "You were very fond of him when he -was alive, I understand. Show your love, your affection, a little by assisting to bury him. You find I and Sword must do it to-night— | for Lacaita has wired to Scotland Yard for assistance, and we must get the body., out of tho way before these fneaks begin ! to work." I don't know what I said or j what I did, but I know that J protested, I j pleaded, I stormed, and threatened to go to Colonel Lacaita and tell him everything. I said that I felt sure that Sword had murdered him, and that Clayton was his accomplice. I know not all I said. But my | husband — ah, you do not understand Avhat ; a brute he can be — just said quietly, "You | 'will do as I tell you. Do you hear? Move one finger against us, and your life is not j worth twopence. Remember, you will do i as I tell .you." He left me then, and during the hours that passed until the most LoiTible hour of my life began I lay on my bed. absolutely crushed in body and mind. I was not able to think reasonably : all I could see was a vision of John's face, cold and pale in death. It seemed burned into my eyeballs. It must have been after midnight when Clayton came again to my room, for I had beard sounds a while before, as if everyone were retiring for the j night. "Come," he said. "You are | wanted now; and remember, one breath' »bove a whisper "' and he looked significantly at me. j '" 'Outside til*? hall door Ermpnred Sword R-a.e waiting, and, even in the daikness, I ::culd distinguish a cruel smile on his evil j ieaturee. He said nothing, however, and j we three walked together through the black night and the pouring rain down the road towards Coster's barn. Sword picked the lock, pushed open the door, and we entered. We walked a few paces forward in the dark, and then Sword struck a match and lighted Clayton's bicycle lamp, which he carried in a porket of his coat. The still-lighted match fell from his fingers j among the straw, which caught fire and commenced to blaze. But Clayton put his foot on the flames and soon extinguished them. I knew what I was to see. and my imagination had dwelt on it. Yet. now that I did see that helpless heap huddled on the straw, my horror and agony, which I had thought it was impossible to increase. redaubled until I felt as if every fibre of j ir.y being were being plucked and rent asunder. Yes, there was the face I had loved, cold and stiff ir death, the eyes staring up at me. wide open, but sightless, I stood there. motionles" as a i statue, unable to take my gaze from all that j ■was mortal of my poor dead love. Yet I Sieard every word they spoke. Their voices sank into my memory, and I remember now -every contemptuous tone, every cruel sneerSng inflection. "Well, Oxborrow," said Sword, "have you 4 old your devoted wife teh.e simple part she Is to play?" "No," he 'answered shortly ; ''you do that." "My 'dear Mrs Oxborrow," said Sword, turning , to me with a callous smile on his lips, '7 assrre you it is very paiaful to ask for your.

assistance in this most sad affair. But you knew our dead friend, and you know the reason why his 'burial should be as quiet and unobtrusive as possible. It is your kindness of neart, I know, that ha., prompted you to give your assistance so promptly, so — may I say? — spontaneously. Your part is ren.lly a very simple one. Your husband and myself have decided to bury this, ' and he touched the corpse with his "foot, "in the Marshes." A fresh shiver of torror seized me at this. Blindness seemed to overtake me, and I felt myself growing unconscious. I should have fallen had Sword not grasped me by the arm and shaken me violently. The mere touch of his hand recalled me to mysslf. In a moment I had recovered and flung him from me. "Ah !" he . laughed. "I thought you were going to faint, but it seems you are of sterner stuff. After this exhibition of strength, I think really that you ought to help to carry our dear friend. What do you say, Oxborrow?" "I say the sooner we are' out of this the better," answered Clayton. "Give her the lamp, and have done with fooling." How shall I describe, how can I describe, what I went through in the next half hour? They carried the dead body, Clayton at the hend and Sword at the feet, while I walked in front with the bicycle lamp. You ask me a-hy I did it ; and you may wsll ask that. What can I answer? I was helpless; I was clay in the hands of the potter. The meeting with John, and his death, and all the horror had, somehow, torn all my will and power of resistance from me. If they had told me to fling myself after tbe dead body into the mud and slime of the Marshes, I would have done it. I was hypnotised — absolutely hypnotised. It was just like being in a dream, where you are pursued by some monster and cannot move hand or foot to save your.self. My reason was gone then, I believe. Can you wonder at it? Only for one 'ittle .. second did I seem to awike from my lethargy of horror, and tha^ was when I heard the sickening sound the ooze made as it sucked tho dead into its depths. Think of the ghastliness of seeing the face of the man you loved being gradually drawn down into the slow clutch of the Marshes. I was holding the lamp so that the lizht fell on his face. When I saw the mud creeping up to his cneeks. and then only the dead, staring eye?, ns if inviting me — calling to me — to go with them, then 1 flung the lamp from me and shrieked, and fled away into the darkness. " 'Cla3 r ton -and Sword soon overtook me. They swore at me for Tinging away the lamp, but I was too crushed to make any reply. We somehow stumbled back to the hall, and Clayton led me to my room. I heard voices presently, and 1 could listinguish Colonel Lacaita's sharp tones. Evidently he had been aroused by our entrance. For a moment T had the wild impulse to rush olit /and tell him all, but while I debated, the door of my room opened, and my liiisband ' came in. Another second and I should have been out. Then, for the first time for how long a period, ClaytoD did a kind action. He gave me a dose of morphia — I wish that it had been an overdose — and after ar hour or so I fell into a dreamless sleep. " 'After luncheon on Sunday my husband came to my room. "You made a nice mess of things last night," he said, "and you must clear it up to-day. My bicycle lamp — it must be found. A thing of that sort can't be allowed to lie about and be discovered by the detectives, who are sure to be sent for to-morrow morning, when the removal of that body is known. You threw away the lamp ; you must go and search for it. Sword and 1 cannot be seen prowling about the Marshes, for I am beginning to think Lacaita is not such an ass as he pretends to be. He heard us come in this morning, and I gave him a story which satisfied him. I made sure that the story was true ; for one never knows whit accidents may happen. But I think he is beginning to get ~uspicious, and that lamn might give him a pointer. So you must search for it and find it. You had better take one of your women friends with you. and ?nin her what plausible tale you like." I was still what I had been on the previous night — a sort of hypnotised automaton — and I obeyed. I took Klara with me. telling her that my neuralgia bad been ko bad that I nad gone walking by myself, and had taken the lamp with me for light. I think she believed me. Everywhere round that awful spot I searched, every clump of grass I examined. But no lamp could I find. Then I saw you, Dolly, and Colonel Lacaita coming towards us along the sea-wall. I turned to go back the way we had come, and I saw two strange men watching us. I lost my head completely ; and. unless fear that I might be considered an accomplice in the murder had stimulated me, I believe I should have waited for you and Colonel Lacaita to come up and told him everything. But fear seemed to five me new life, and dragging Klara with me I fled along tbe sea-wall towards home. I persuaded Klara not to say a word about our having been out together, as it would look strange that a hostess who was not able to appeal before her guests, and who was supposed to be lying ill in her room, should yet be well enough to go walking when they were out of the way. " 'God knows how I got through the awful scene with my husband when lie found that I had not recovered the lamp. Of that I will not sneak now, for nothing can make him blacker than what I have already said. To the world I have always appeared happy — a woman to be envied. Only myself and heaven know what a living hell my married life has been, and what agonies of torture I have gone through since that Friday night when I met John Oxborrow. I remember hardly anything of what prssed from Sunday night until T awoke here an hour or two ago. I just know this : that l have lived these days and nights over and over again a thousand times, and I cannot get >ut of my sight the look of John's dead eyes sinking into the Marsha.. I -cc them now even as I speak— and I know that I shall see them

until the hour when my own eyes are closed i"oi ever, an hour that will come soon.' " Lady Dolly ceased reading, and laid dovrnthe last sheet of the manuscript. The room had been quiet enough during the recital of Mrs Oxborrow's harrowing story, but now that L%dy Dolly's voice was silent a.i added stillness seemed to pervade the air. From my place Kehir.d the screen I was conscious that the silence had become an absolute presence. Ido not know if I make my meaning clear, bu* what I intend to convey is this — that I felt as if the very being, the very personality, of silence had entered the room, and taken its place amongß us. Involuntarily I laid niy hand on Sir William Montgomery's arm and le?..ned towards him. He turned and placed a finger on his liy>s as if commanding silence. I b?nt my" mouth to his car and whispered. "She cannot hear now. I feel that she is dead." Before he could make any reply, even before I could note fully the look of consternation on his face, Lr.rd Lechmere's voice broke in. "It is necessary that you should si-jjn this document, Mrs Oxborrow, and with your permission I will witness it." I strained my ears to catch the answer, but I heard nothing. "Do not trouble to answer," Lord Lechmere continued ; "here is pen and ink." .And then, .is the room was filling rapidly with the gloomy shadows of the November afternoon, he pressed a button, and the electric light shone. "Lois!" cried Lady Dolly, id then again, "Lois!" What I felt had indeed come true. Mrs Oxborrow had been relieved of all her troubles, all her torturing cares. Her heavy burden har bsen lifted from her. Sir William moved forward and touched the dead woman's hand. Lord Lechmere wlrisperccl something. "Yes," said Sir William ; "nearly an hour ago, I think. When Lady Dolly was reading that part where Mrs Oxborrow spoke of the dead man's eyes inviting lier to go with them, I thought I heard a sigh. It may have been then. Perhaps it was." The story we had heard made a deep and terrible impression on us all, and this impression was heightened by the tragic end that had occurred in our presence without our being conscious of it. W were all too greatly moved to speak much, and although we adjourned to the library in ■jrdei that I might confer with Lord Lechmere about thu course of action to be pursued regarding Oxborrow and Sword, we really did hardly more than sit and look at each other and murmur. "Poor woman !" I was glad when 'I remembered my intention of visiting St. Bernard's Hospital, because it gave me an opportunity of leaving the sudden gloom that pervaded Lechmere House. Men and women might die — yes, even the nearest and dearest to me — but my work hac 1 to be clone, my duty had to be done/ And my immediate work and duty was to lay Oxborrow and Sword by the heels, even if by so loing I warned the rest of the gang. As I left Lechmere House and drove along Piccadilly the newsboys were calling, "Fatal cab accident. Fatal cab accident. City magnate killed !" And as my hansom slowed at the corner of Bond street I read the same words on the bill of an evening paper. Little did I think at that moment that one of the men I hoped to have safely within custody in a few hours' time was "the city magnate" killed. I went on to Scotland Yard, and had matters put in train for the arrest of Clayton Oxborrow and Sir Ermenred Sword. There, too. I found a message from iSt. Bernard's Hospital, saving that Inspector Marsh had recovered consciousness and had important jews to impart to me. S< with out delay I went on to St. Bernard's, wiii-re from Marsh's lips I heard the story of his adventures, which I have already recorded. (To be continued.).