THE POINTING FINGER.

Otago Witness, Issue 2744, 17 October 1906, Page 70

THE POINTING FINGER.

By '-It IT A,"

Author of "The Grinding Mills of God," "The Sin of Jasper Standish." "Peg the Rake," "The My&lery of the Daik House," etc., etc.

[Copyright.]

CHAPTER XI. HE feminine conclave broke up with that question unanswered, that problem unsohed. It has been said that women lack the keen sense of honour with \\ Inch men are credited. They are inclined to palter with temptations and excuse

stray excursiocs from the straight, hard road of duty and obligation. Ceitainly Lad}- Sue was blaming the siii and excusing the sinner in approved feminine fashion. But then this special sinner happened to be a man who had appealed to her ir.oro directly than any man she had yet known. For the first time in her life interest was not only aroused, but beset by difficulties. Difficulties to a girl of Lady Sue's temperament meant only a delightful change from the d«ad level of -commonplace. She looked at them from a standpoint of What woman "wills, the world wills." Never having been den'td anything she desired, phi looked upon denial as a wrong to her personal prerogatives. Obstacles vere for her to surmount, not to yield to.

But the next morning was destined to j add yet another link to the chain of confusion which for once fettered both will and desire. The link took the form of a letter. It was enclosed in one from 1 Lady Anne, who said that it had arrived I after her daughter's leparture, and been forwarded at once. Lady Sue looked at the letter with some wonder. It bore a significance of its own, as some letters do. The envelope was common, the writing apparently disguised and totally unfamiliar. The letter.-was seakd also, with a common splash of sealing wax pressed down apparently by a coin. A foreign coin. The impression on the wax interested her. She took a small magnifying glass, and by its aid discovered that the coin bore the head -of Kruger, the defender and lawgiver of the Transvaal. The stamp on the letter was, however, an ordinary penny stamp. The postmark — London.

She opened the envelope by slipping % sharp penknife along the upper fold, thus keeping the seal intact. The notepaper she drew out \u& a.s common as the envelope. The writing again looked a^ if disShe glanced over the first pajje. Her

face grew very pale. Her eyes dilated with astonishment. She read- —

Dear Madam, — I take the liberty of addressing yon instead of any other member of yonr family, to say that the WTiter of this Jetter is possessed of certain information concerning your cousin, the young Lord Rollestone, important to yourself. The said writer has only just irrived from Africa. What he has *o t<?'l is strange and of great importance. He ran only treat with you personally md by appointment. If you do not agree to see him it will mean a great danger to your family Please reply to address given. — Your* obediently, Daxiel O'Shea. P.S. — Beware of wolves la sheep's clothing.— D. OS. Lsdy »Sue read this strange missive twice. It puzzled her. The name of the writer was unknown. The address he gave wa& certainly not in any aristocratic quarter. An hotel in Buckingham street, Strand. The hints and mystery of th^ communication alarmed her Was she to hear news of Ronnie — the true Ronnie — or be assiued of treachery in another quarter? She was standing, staring thoughtfully at the commutation when there came a li?ht tap at the door. Her friend's voice a.«ked if she migpht come in. Receiving permission, she entered in ;» delightful morning wrap of wadded satin. She too had a letter in her 'hand. "We're not oroing to Cairo. Sue," she exclaimed. "Faney — but what's the matter? You look queer!" "Queei?" laughed Lady Sue. "T feeL it. I've just had an extraordinary letter. I wish you'd read it, Editha. Following on the heels of our talk last night >t seeivs something more than coincidence." 1 ' Mrs Ebury took the letter and read it. "I wonder if it's a do?*' she eiid. "A try on, to extort money ; to frighten you? You surely won't make the appointment?"' '"I want the information." said Lady Sue, doggedly. '"See 'how odd it is that this man should know of Ronnie abroad, and apparently be ignorant >f .he — the succession."

"Y-°s. That certainly is aueer. But he says he has only just arrived. And iudginji by the letter he is not of a class of persons to read society news in society paper?. He may not know.' 1 "He does not know. That is evident. The mystery deepens, Editha."

"It doss. Come, and breakfast in my room and talk it over. Oh ! never mind your hair. Oliver won't be there. He's gone off to the agents about exchanging our tickets or -something." "Why are you not going to Cairo ?"

" Well, we ought to have gone in January. Now OliveT has heard that there's been an outbreak of plague. He never did want ts go. Fs so far from his beloved city ! My dear, never marry a business man. His whole heart is bound up in stocks and shares, and) queer things that go up, or fall, or become fandangoes — no, contangoes, that's the word. What it means I haven't the slightest idea, but it enables me to get new gowns, so I don't find fault with it, or with Norry!" She was leading the way to her boudoir where breakfast was laid for two. They drank their coffee and trifled with various delicacies while still keeping thought and mind on the subject of the inystenous letttr. "What puzzles ms," said Editha Ebury, "is why this man should write to you. How could he have learnt your name and

addie^s?" ■• From— Ronnie, of course. Be says so She re;:d out the p?i-.?age in quc&tion. •' I don't see that that is any proof/ objected Mrs Ebury. "■ Proof enough for me. And the postscrip? Have you remembered that?" "It holds the gist of the whole letter." " Yes. It points to — to my ow n suspicions. Editha, I must risk it ! .1 must tee this man." '■ I don't like the idea. It might be a plan, a trap." Lady Sue laughed scornfully. " jsly dear, we're not living in the JDaik Ages. The — the parson who wrote ths would surely have sense enough to credit me with the ordinary precaution of leaving the address behind me. If I don'.t return in an hour you can send a — policeman — to fetch me!" "It's all very well to laugh, but I can't help feeling uncomfortable." " And I only feel desperately curious, ' said Lady Sue. " I shall hear the truth of this double — "Prisoner of Zcnda" butinccs. I shall know •who is. masquerading as Ronald. It's worth some lisk to clo that. And now as that decision is off mjmind, tell me were you serious about Cairo? Are you not going — really?" " No. It's too late now, and Norry says some tiresome business has ciopped up. He suggested Algiers, or the Rivieia. And that you should come with ms.'" "I'd have loved to go under the circumstances, but I won't leave England until I've solved this mystery." " Well, it's certain 1 don't want to go alone," said Mrs Ebury. "And equally certain that you can't stay in town by yourself. Of cour&e, if Lady Anne is

coming up " But she's not. She's staying on at the hall to keep house lor Ron — for — well.

the other man. "It would be funny," said Mrs Ebury, "if you had made a mistake. If, after all, the real Ronald is in his right place?" Lady Sue started. ''Why did you cay that? And after my story, too?" "Men change unaccountably," eaid her friend. "And in cold blood, and looking at the matter in cold daylight. I cannot for the life of me see why any man should run such a risk as the 'Pietendei' is iuiining ;ifhe is the — Pretendci." "I gave you the only pofcsitile explanation laht night. You know we armed at

" Certainly not," said Lady Sue. "No one is to hear a word of it beside yourfelf. I expect you to respect my confidence as sacred." "Of course I will if you say so. Only I do hope nothing dreadful will happen, and then I shall get blamed." " Why should anything dreadful happen?" asked Lady Sue, rising from the table. Mrs Ebury shiugged her graceful shoulders. "I don't know. One has misgivings. This affair looks diffeient this morning." "It looks more solid. It looks as if the clue to my own misgivings were suddenly put into my hand. Of course, the man who wiote that letter may be an impostor. In that case affairs are in the same position. On the other hand, there may be a reason for his addressing me. The sooner we are out of suspense the better." "We,"' smiled her friend. "I credit you with a iittle natural curiosity." "My dearest Sue, credit me with a great deal ; with a consuming desire to know what it all means — how it wOll all end. I am as much interested as yourself." Lady Sue crossed over to the writing table in the window. "I will answer this at once," she said. "I will make the appointment for to-morrow." "Do \on think it wise to give this address?" asked Mrs Ebury. "My dearest Editha, you have a husband. You need not fear objectionable callers." "I am not afraid of myself, Sue. I was only thinking of you." Lady Sue handed her the few brief Unes she had written. She hastily ran her eye over them. "Yes, that's very good. Straight to the point. Shall I* have it sent to the post?" "No," said Lady Sue : '"I have an edd fancy about tln6 letter. I don't wish your servants to see the name jr the address. I will post it myself when we go out." "O'Shea." murmured Mrs Ebury, thoughtfuly. "It has an Irish flavour 'about it." Lady Sue lauhged. "Well. I've never met an Irishman yet. It will be a new experience."

'They're either the truest gentlemen or the greatest blackguards on the face of the earth," said Mrs Ebury. "Row interesting," said Lady Sue. "I wonder under which heading my corlespondent will come!"

CHAPTER XII. Lady Sue's correspondent took an unexpected method of replying to her brief and guarded communication. He wired back: "All right ; ten-thirty, \o-morro\v." "He means business, you see," was her

remark to Mrs Ebury. Mrs Ebury nodded thoughtfully. '"You n-ust take Taylor with you,'' she said. "She can wait in the coffee-room, or whatever it is, until "your interview is over.'" " Poor s-taid, respectable Taylor !" laughed Lady Sue. "What a shock to her sensibilities." "I suppose if we knew what our servants leally thought of us, it would be a shock to our sensibilities," remarked Mrs Ebury. "All said and done, my dear Sue, it's a very gocd thing that we go through life with a veil between our outer and inner selves." "I suppose it is. Editha. what am I to do to kill the time? I wish I had said to-day ; to-night even. It seems an , eternity till tomorrow." I "I hope it majn't be woise for you after to-monow," said her friend. "You may hear something that will make you wish to put the clock back — not forward." Lady Sue's lovely face turned a shade paler. She made no reply. "Suppose we have a hansom and go' to Bond street? I want some new blouses." Her hand was on the beli when the door opened, and a footman entered. He carried another telegram on the -silver salver in his hand. He handed it to the mistress. She read it quickly. Lady Sue watching her, noted that she looked distubred. "Any reply, madam?" inquired the man. "No. Yes. Wait a moment. Go into i the hall." The man obeyed the contradictory orders by leaving the room. Mrs Ebuiy turned to her friend. "This concerns you, Sue," she eaid gravely. "Read it for yourself." She handed the telegram, and Lady Sue glanced rapidly over its contents. "Accident has happened to Edensore. Break news to Sue. No alarm. Am writing particulars." It was fiom Lady Anne. As her daughter took in the significance of the information she rephsed for the first time the real meaning of fear. Her lips blanched and quivered ; he hand that he'-d the slip of paper shook like a leaf. "An accident — what does it mean? What can have happened,' she faltered. "It can't be very serious," said her friend soothingly. "You see the message says 'No alarm.' He may have sprained his ankle, or injured his arm, or had a fall , fiom bib horse, or — does he motor?" "No. And the horse doesn't live that could throw him ! He is a perfect hors>eman. Editha, I have a presentiment. Jasper Mai lory has something to do with this !" "Presentiments never serve any \vii-e purpose," answered Mr» Ebuiy. "You must wait for your mother's letter. Do you wish to tend bjck a message? There are foimi on the waiting table, and the boy is w ait.n^ " j Lady Sue turned hastily to the table. Then "f-he paused and faced her friend .igiun. "What's the use." she said. "What can I &iy that doesn't sound — .nadequate?" She sunk into a chair and looked helplefcfcly from the telegram to the face of Mrs Ebury. "I agree with you. A telegram i« bald and poverty-stricken. You had best wait

Sue. "Mother is so helpless in any emergency. If I left by the night mail "

"What about the interview to-morrow morning?" "Oh !" groaned Lady Sue. "Was there ever such a hailstorm of disasters ! Editha, advise me, for God's sake !" ''My advice is to wait for the letter. You can do no possible good by rushing back to Wales." "I know that, but " "'You asked me to advise you. Well, I think it wiser to wait on events than to worry about them. If this individual's information is worth anything it is -worth waiting lor. At least, you may have arrived at some definite conclusion after the interview to-morrow as to the two Dromios, or whatever they are. If the man who has met with the accident is not the earl, why should you rush off to his bedside under the presumed privileges ot relationship? If he is — well, the matter of to-morrow becomes none the less important." "Then' you think I ought to remain un<til I've seen this O'Shea, or whatever his name is?" '"Most decidedly. If you like I will take the responsibility of replying to the message. Wait a moment." She took a form and wrote a few words, then handed it to Lady Sue. "Message received. Much grieved. Do you wish Sue to return? If ro, wire." "Thefe!" exclaimed Mrs Ebury. "That harms no one : and a return message wilt assist or prevent a decision." Lady Sue sighed heavily. "Yes ; I don't £fs what else is to b« done. If I only knew v hat 6ort of accident " "My dear girl, Tvhat difference wouldi that "make 9 Perhaps only add to your worry. Here, give me the message, and I'll send it off." When she came back Lady Sue was pacing to and fro the room in a restless perturbed fashion. "There's one thing I might do." she said. "'Wire to this O'Shea and ask him to appoint to-night instead of to-morrow. Then I should be free to catch the first train in the morning. I'd be at the half to-morrow night." Mrs Ebury considered the matter a moment. "I suppose it would do no harm," she said. "And if you go on like this you'll work yourself into a fever. It's plain to me, Susan, that you've never had to encounter difficulties or face troubles. Otherwise you'd have learnt the meaning of patience." Lady Sue's answer to that remark was fc write the self -suggested message. It .vas to this effect: — Am called away on important business to-morrow. Can you alter appointment to this evening?" 'Yes — that's all right," said Mrs Ebury. * •But we musn't ©end it by a servant." "No. of course not. Let's go ourselves.'"And add that reply is to go to the post office, Vere street," said Mrs Ebury. •

"Why?" •"For two good and sufficient reasons. We can have lunch at Prince's to while away the time, and call for the answer afterwards. You -will get it sooner, and you won't have to hurry back here. A little shopping will distract you. The w ind is tempered to the shorn lamb on occasions. Bond street is in a particularly sheltered position, and Valerie's blouses would console a lamb in sight of her shearers !" But Lady Sue was in no mood for raillery. She felt seriously distmbed and distressed. Suspect e was new to her, and she bore i'c badly. Even the attractive piogramme planned bj- Editha Ebury proved inefficient as a real distraction. The hours dragged. Luncheon was but a new form of loredom. She met several fashionable acquaintances, but one and allfound hei strangely quiet and subdued. "She has grown cjoite serious," murmured one Society doll to another. And the other merely said 'how very unbecoming black was— in. winter ' time— 'even if one lwd Titianesque hah: to carry it off. With her eyes on the cock Lady Sue sa: through the table d'hote luncheon, lrnrvelling that Editha could eat so much and chat such brilliant nonsense ant* appear so horribly unsympathetic. As the moments passed on s-he grew more and more restless. The noise of the crowded room made her head ache. Before he. eves was one face— always the same one. She saw it pale, haggard, suffering. All sorts of impulses swept through her mind ; the strongest and mast overpowering was that impulse to go to him. But she knew she must not; she ought not. Oh! if only the hours would not lag so dTearily! If only that interview was over and her mind at rest! But would it be at rest?

Her pride rose in frantic rebellion at' the probability of any other issue than the one she desired. She was ashamed of her weakness, and yet it conquered her. She was honest enough to admit that, whichever way the affair terminated, she could not shake off that weakness. And the reason? From that she resolutelyturned aside. No need to draw it forth into cold daylight and common sense. At last Mrs Ebury professed) herself satisfied. They left "the table and the restaurant. They took aaother hansom to Veie street. Mrs Ebury went in*> the ].oit office to nmke the necessary inquiry. She came out with a blank face ; Lady Sue's lipo framed a \oiceless and unnecessary query. "Nothing — yet," .said her friend. "You must remember be might have been out when -your wire was delivered. Or perhaps "

But Lady "Sue was 6taring over hey head. Staring at a face — the face of a nan who had suddenly paused just behind Mrs Ebury. She had noticed him loiter-* ing in front of the post office ; noticed thafc he had followed) her friend inside. Now he came -forward. He lifted his hat. It' was a shabby -hat. He was dressed in shabby clothes. Yet there was something in his look and manner that spoke ol better breeding than his appearance warranted, "Excuse me, madam. It was to ika

the same conclusion. J'*••Will you lot mo tell Oliver about the fo' the particulars. affair":" asked Mrs Eburv, suddenly. * "I — I ought to go to them." paid Lady

Ebury he spoke. "Am I wrong in surmising that you expected; a telegram in the-, office just now?"

She turned abruptly, coloured, and drew herself up. "What business is that of yours?" she said frigid ly. He smiled. His smile was persuasive. His eyes had a twinkle of humour.

"If you should happen to be Lady Susan Silchester, it is very much my business,"' he Eaidl "For I am here to answer your message in person. I only received it a quarter of an hour ago, and for fear your ladyship would have the unnecessary trouble of repeating your call, I hurried round myself with the answer."

He spoke with a strong Irish accent. He looked at the pretty, perplexed woman with bold, admiring eye. He was not .prepared for the sudden, startling exclamation of the other lady in the cab.

She leant forward, her face flushing, her eyes aflame. "Do you mean to say," she exclaimed, "that you are Mr O'Snea, to Trhom I telegraphed this morning " "You! Oh, I beg your ladyship's pardon. Is it- you who are the Ladfy Susan Silchester, my honoured correspondent?" "Yes," said Lady Sue quickly. "I heard what you said just now. I called for yonr reply wire." '^Which same reply I present personally to your, ladyship." She looked at the man and then at {Mrs Ebury,- and 1 then again at the man. "What— what is the reply?" she asked 1 faintly. "Faith, madam," he said bluntly, "seem' there's no time like the present, and that yourself and the message and the messenger are all handy on the spot, I'm of a mmd 1 to suggest the immediate moment." Lady Sue looked move perplexed. "Now —you mean now? But where?" "Is the Regent's Park adjacin^ enough ior the purpose?'' atked Mr O'Shea. "If co, your ladyship might just be takin' your cab on to the York Gates, and I'll be waiting on your pleasure in as few moments as another conveyance will be taking me there. There's not many jpaoplo about at this time, and your ladyship and your ladyship's friend may rest assured that the honour of an Irishman, even a poor and distressed one, is pledged dor. respectful treatment and protection. Daniel O'Shea feels himself privileged 'by your confidence, and Daniel O'Shea was never the man to break his word to a- lady." Mrs Ebury looked at Lady Sue and Lady Sue looked back at Mrs Ebury. Mr O'Shea waited patiently on their decision. Mrs Ebury suddenly. put one foot on the step and one hand on the door. She looked at the waiting figure and then at the cabman. "Regent's Paik, York Gate," she said, and; seated herself beside Lady Sue. (To be continued.) — "I've promised to go to supper with someone else, Mr Blanquc, but I'll introduce you to a very handsome and clever girl."" "But I don't want a handsome aiid clever girl; I want you. '