THE NOVELIST. [Published Special Arrangement.] MANTRAP MANOR,

Otago Witness, Issue 2808, 8 January 1908, Page 70

THE NOVELIST. [Publishe d Special Arrangement.] MANTRAP MANOR,

.- ' * . ■ ' GUT TSORNE, < ,

By A.utl.or. of "When It Was Daxk,"^'Made in His Image," "First It Wa» Ojm iained," *A- Lost Cause>" etc., eta ' - JfjCoFTRIGHT.]

CHAPTER XIIL— THE VICTIM

ARBIVES AT MANTRAP MANOR. HE man upon the floor was dreaming heavily— a. most; fantastic dream, a dream without end or beginning/ » dream of rapid movement/ In his thick, drugged steep he seemed to be rushing rapidly, violently along ijx J,he dark. AIL his senses were confused' and inoperative. He could not see, he could not feel j ni» eoulcl hear a. rapid . noise of something rushing through, blackness— float- something ■of which he had become. parfc x that rusiif ing, tearing, drummingi something. ft was ac though ate body hoi entirely gonej. and only his- consciousness remained, ami • that in its. turn waa all dulted into the) one irild' sensation of Howmentj, even ■ movement; On and on for Interminable- tours witb; ■ l .he roar an* sense of moventen#i. bnt wdta n(x actual feeling of wind upoii the face; at of %nba Ja acfionr-on y and on, always the roar an<J toe movement! . Then Gilberts Athertott Beard . another; soundl break in upon me rushing noise. It was a sound witbln himself, a sound made by bja own body, as the deep veil .of unconsciomanesff lifted % little and the flrsb' return of volitLop began*. He was ; grfaiding: h% teeth in Ya&ixaw fast-bfeaMniJ ; sleep^ and he heaxdf tne grating.

Then at last he began to stir and moan. He could hear Mmself moaning, though, as yet, he did not know that it was himself — so strange are the borderlands whither the soul and brain are banished

during unconsciousness and sleep. -„ At length, the body began to assert itself. A sensation as of a million pricking points all over Me skin, came suddenly to him as the mind reasserted its empire and woke. The blood in his veins grew hot, and forced its way painfully through them. He became conscious of s, -horrible taste in Ms mouth — the tongue clave to the palate, Ms whole mouth was parched and dry, and he seemed to have been sucking a piece of brass. At last, very slowly and wearily, in little jerks, tihe eyelids opened, and the brown of t3ie eyes was at first without lustre or comprehension as "he gazed out upon ~an unknown scene. Very -slowly the eyes "began "to brighten as the drugged brain finally threw off the influence wMch

■had -been upon it for many hours, and Te- - asserted its empire. ■ At last ''Gilbert Atherton could see and - feel again, dimly and imperfectly indeed, bnt still could see and feel. He had come back to life. Directly full consciousness .was restored an expression of extreme amazement imprinted itself upon his features. His face was white and drawn,

_ as "if he had been very ill, and a. stubble ■fi beard was beginning to show upon ' cheeks and chin. JJut the -extraordinary

wonder and 1 surprise wMeh slowed out "^pon the face altered its expression even aaore than anything else. Wiiere was he? How had he come there? What was this place in wMch heJiad found Mmself?

He was lying on a carpeted! jfloor, ibis " head supported upon two pillows ; Ms left aim -was bound to his side by a cord idiich went round Ms body, Abound -securely, but net tightly. THs Tight arm was. -free. His legs were tied together With some ."difficulty and' infinite pain of muscle he raised himself into & sitting posture.- As he did 1 so the pricking .sensa-tion-became almost unbearable, and Ms blood was at fever heat.

He turned 1 Ms head slowly. He fnundl Mm self in a fair-sized Hall, -panelled in oak and surrounded by doors, all of wMch were closed. Upon the floor was- a thick Turkey carpet ; one or two ■pictures hung around — ordinary landscapes tnough, in heavy gjlt frames, and oppoteite him was a "massive mahogany hat-rack "end umbrella^ stand. He was obviously in the^ hall of some old! country house, but •jvhbse house or where he -did not know.

He, sank back again' with, a moan, ins heads - resting once more upon the pillows. , «For a moment or~ two^ tie newly-re-

- gained consciousness seemed) to waver 'and - quiver, ac if once- more the darkness of - mind and spirit "was about to engulf Mm. ~ He made a tremendous effort and gripped ius ' going consciousness, as a 'drowning man clutches at an overhanging branch. jEEs will asserted itself, and h© was able -- to lie back, .weak -andi weary, btit fully aware of what he had just seen.- Has eyes stared up at the oak ceiling above him, and slowly and! painfully be began to reoonstrnct past events -as far as he uould remember them. "In a minute or two -Ms -brain worked) more easily, and this is what he was able

to recall:

He remembered that he had been sitting in the works one morning — how long ago he" could hardily say, — buj; it could not have been, he imagined, any great length of time. At any rate, he had been sitting there, unable to work very much. _ Edward Woople had come into the room,

and he had delegated! the scrutiny of certain plans to the assistant-manager. He ■ had wanted to be alone in order to think over, as he Was always tMnMng over, the great happiness "that Sad <omeVto him. iffis suit had been accepted by Julius Wilehire "with the one proviso, that <Sadie was to have -a- week apart "from Turn in order to know her own mind thoroughly. Althflugh Gilbert chafed at - the -delay, he tad realised jtiat, from a father's point of

■view, it might be light and roroper. Sir William Atherton" himself had 1 smiled indulgently at Me son's impatience, and few Mm that Julius Wilshire was only witMn Me rights. But Gilbert ihad known perfectly well -how true the girl he loved was to him, and lie had not the slightest -doubt that when the week was over the engagement would be ratified. He had - promised, however, not to communicate •with Sadie an any way daring these few days. Happy as he was, the time began to proye very irksome. His longing to see nis-love grew more and more -ntense every iiour, and the hours themselves seemed to crawl by like years. - , He had been sitling thus in the office, when his secretary' had announced that Mr Willy, Julius WiLsbire's cMef assistant; had come about .some* castings, and would like to see Mm., Glad of the distraction, and pleased at seeing anybody, - ihowever remotely, connected with Sadie, -Gilbert bad had the man shown in at ; ©nc£. The man had handed* him a letter, • 'letter from Julius Wilshire, -marked r**jprivate,'' and the most -extraordinary letter Gilbert had ever received in Ms life. . -As he lay "there bound 1 - in this mystelious place he found Mmself unable to Temember the wording of the letter. The Sgist of its contents he remembered per- . fectly. Some danger seemed to threaten . Sadie, and her father had appealed to Mm 4x> help. T£e danger seemed to come from Ramon de Toros, that Spanisn fellow, at least that was "what WilsMre's note seemed to convey. jCben the Test of the letter had consisted of an argent request to . come to Seaborough at once, but to take extraordinary precautions in coming. All these precautions bad" evidently been thought out with great care.- He was to do this and that ; be was to take certain trains and change into certain others. He was to give out that he was going to London, and to send a wire to his fatljer to, that effects All liad seemed! to. jiqit l^

to his arrival being desired to be known to no one except ±o Wikshire and his daughter. Amazed and -surprised as he was, and rather contemptuous of the implied danger, Gilbert nad felt that it was, nevertheless, his duty to act precisely in accordance with .the instructions of his father-in-law to be. Moreover, the very fact of the letter meant that- even the week's probation was waived, and it also meant — oh, joy of joy&— -t<hat if he followed! out WDshire's instructions he Tvould see his love that very night. i He little man, "Willy, who seemed to j know nothing of the contents of the let- ' ter, but had obviously received instructions Ifrom his master, haol Temained until Gilbert had absolutely destroyed the note. .Then he liad gone away. That afternoon Gilbert had started to follow tJulius Wilshire's instructions. Without knowing the reason, but believing impKcity that there was a good and sufficient , reason, he had carried out the plan in every detail. Long after midnight, quite certain that he had been recognised "by no one and had attracted no attention on his complicated journey, Gilbert lad walked out of the station at Seaborough, taken certain turnings, .and had been met by his future father-in-law in. a closed motor ca-r. Wilshire nad given his hand a warm grip, the door had been shut, and the car started off at -a rapid pace down the deserted street in which 'lie had met it. And then Gilbert had remembered oothinff more I

Had there been an accident? He did not know. But if an accident there had been, -why was he now lying in some eteange place -which he had never seen before ?— lying id a well-furnished ihall of an 'obviously spacious country house, and lying bound? He listened intently; "there was no sound. 'Nbfc the slightest noise of any kind came ,to bis cars. If tikis house in which he found himself was inhabited, eifcber iiie, inia-feAfcanfe ■were J»JI away or had some reason for remaining hidden. With less .weariness 'this time, but still with a great effort, he raised himself once more. His eyes fell upon the floor by his xight hand, and he saw something he had not noticed before. This was a knife, lying well within his reach, as if placed there by design. He took it up, looked at it stupidly for a moment, and l then realised its obvious use. With some difficulty he severed the cord which bound his left arm to Ms body. Me was now free, save only for the -cords about his ankles, and bending forward he -very soon cut them through. Feeling very and giddy, he lay back for -a moment or two, - and then cautiously rose and stood upright, looking carefully round, but more bewildered than ever. Mo explanation suggested itself to him. He hadl not t3ie slightest idea where foe was, -or how he had .got there, =aod tine only* obvious thing to do was to investigate. , He then saw that on the floor, not far away from him, the bowler hat he had been wearing and the light cane that he iadl been carrying were lying side by side. He bent down and picked tnem^up. Welli the came might fee some slight defence, at any rate, if he were, indeed, in a house of enemies. Be took it and the hat in his hand, and stood -irresolute for a moment. Then he saw a large front door to his left, a massive door heavily bolted and barred. The hall itself was lit by electric light from bulbs set in tie ceiling, and as there was no skylight over the door, he did not know whether it was dtoy or night. He went up to the door, and then found that it was of heavy oak covered with steel bands, and there' was apparently no lock or keyhole. There was obviously no egress that way, he must explore the house to find out wher© he was He turned towards one of the doors, when Ilb noticed the hatstand. In one of the clips below stood' a heavy iron-wood walking-stick with a thick head. " That, at any Tate, would be a better weapon than tie light bane he was carrying. He pulled the stick out from the little clip which held it, and found it would, indeed, make a- very serviceable weapon in case of need. Then ie hung ihis hat on one of the pegs, unwilling to be cumbered with it, -and mechanically pushed his light cane into one of the clips of .the umbrella. stand 1 .. Then a monstrous and terribly startling thing occurred. Gubert Atherton had never yet~-known fear, but he knew it now. i -As he pushed the cane into the ordinary ! little clip, which differed nothing from a hundred others that he had seen, tie light ! rattan suddenly flashed round and upwards in a half circle, and struck him a smart and painful blow across the neck andl lower part «f the chin. It was almost as though some invisible ! hand had gripped it and slashed him ! across the face. He staggered back, overcome with fear of this sudden and sinister thing. For a moment he pressed his hand to the throbbing «narfc upon his neck, then rnshed back and seized th© cane by the middle. Immediately after the blow it had fallen bade into its place with a rattle, and now it came quite easily out of the clip, I as if nothing unusual had occurred. He examined it fox an instant, and then flung- it to the other end) of the hall, where it fell echoing in the silence. He then gripped .the clip itself, which was fastened to the back of the stand, apparently, by a screw in the ordinary way. He found ii quite ordinary — a little loose on the screw, perhaps, but that was all. He could not turn it this way or that more than an eighth of an inch, and he could not draw i\ - towards him from the mahogany back of the stand. He took a step or two into the middle of the hall, his brain whirling with a quiver of rapid thoughts. Was he, Indeed, mad? Was all this a horrid nightmare? Was he not^ incfeeS, in some strange and unknown house? Had he ftot loaad himself l,vi££ hound ujjoji

, the floor? Was he — and this was the most terrible thought of all — was he losing his reason, and lost in the fantastic and unreal world of the insane? No, that could not be. | Already a red line was swelling up upon his neck and chin, and at the other side of the hall he saw the two pillows , with the mark where his head had been i still indented upon them, and the knife : and cut cords by their side upon the i carpet. ■ | And with that vision, the sense of 1 unreality faded away. He knew that he was in a real house ; that something . curious and possibly terrible had hapi pened to him, though what he did not ■ know. But he was a man, his strength and self-possession had returned to him, ' and it was now his business to find out what had befallen him. ' i In the sudden shock he had dropped the heavy ironwood stick which he had | first taken from the rack. He now picked this up and walked with firm strides towards -the nearest door. He hesitated for a moment upon the mat, then turned ■ the handle and entered. As he opened the- door wide, grasping , his club, a sigh of relief burst from his lips. The Toom which opened out before . his sight was filled with sunlight. It was not, then, night, with all its attendant fears and horrors. No one ■ i need be afraid in " the daylight. ' ' He walked over the threshold and found himself in a large, richly-furnished room, obviously a dining room, scrupulously 1 clean and tidy, bnfc winch from its formal ■ appearance seemed to have been but ' lately furnished and not to be in regular use or occupation. There was a big table in the middle of the room covered with [ a green cloth, and there was nothing at all upon the table, upon the sideboard, or upon tie formal suite of chairs which . was arranged round the wall. Nobody was in -the room, bvcb a. great fclnefoofctle droned round and round, making ' a plea- ■ sant noise with its wings, and speaking of ■ a hot summer's day outside. Gilbert advanced into the room very , slowly and cautiously. The inexplicable ! happening in t/he hall, the strange circumstances of his arrival hi this unknown ' place — all conspired to fill him with ' caution and alertness. Absolutely ignorant as he was of his surroundings 1 and the purpose of those who must have brought him there, he knew that it ' behoved him to exercise the most strenuous care. Might it not be that hidden enemies were waiting ~~for him ; with some new surprise? That remained to be seen; but meanwhile every faculty • must be strained in watchfulness. He ', turned towards the window. There was only one window in the | room — a long, • marrow window, through which the sunlight was pouring. But ! when his eye fell upon it he learnt a I ' new fact immediately : f ot some purpose or other he was certainly imprisoned, for , over all the window there was a network of strong iron bars fixed into the wall, j effectually preventing any egress. He , walked slowly up to it, and looked out. He saw that almost right up to the . window a wild luxuriance of tall shrubs i and trees was - growing, effectually for- ■ bidding any further view.- Beyond the ' trees, some thirty or forty yards away, ■ he could just discern the top of a high 1 wall. He was obviously in some enclosed ' place — some place shut away from the outer world. But what he saw gave him | no clue as to where the place was. He 1 might be in any part of England for all he knew. He listened intently, and still there ' was no sound l)ut the merry booming of the great blue fly as it swung in circles round the empty sunlit room. Some- , where, by someone, for some unknown reason, he was trapped. J Gilbert Atherton was essentially a man . of courage and of action. Being trapped, . obviously the first thing to be done was i to get out. He looked thoughtfully at , the bars which crossed the window. They i did not seem beyond the power of man ; to loosen, provided he had a sufficient i lever. His eyes loved round the room, • wondering where he should find what i he nought. In their progress they fell I upon the -fireplace, and in the fender he ; saw a massive poker of steel. j 'That would do admirably, and it was j hard if he could not loosen some of those impediments to freedom with such a tool. With renewed confidence he picked up the 1 poker, and found it would, indeed, make ' a strong and heavy lever. Then he went up to the window, and, placing one endi [ of his weapon over a bar against the Side of the wall, pulled it towards him with all his strength. ] He was flung back into the middle of the room as a stone is hurled from si , catapult — flung back with every nerve and muscle in his body paralysed, falling into a disjointed, nerveless heap upon the floor. For some minutes he lay there as one bereft of life. The power of movement seemed to have been sucked out of frm> . in a single instant. He was not unconscious, but merely incapable of thought. When at last he was able to move his limbs again he stood up upon the carpet, and realised immediately what had happened. All the bars of that window were heavily charged with a strong current of electricity, and he was prisoned by -a force far more powerful and fori bidding than any steel or iron could j ever be. I And with that terrible realisation his J high courage began to waver. .He knew ! bow what he had only before suspected, — he was in the grip of powerful and 1 unscrupulous enemies, though who they could be he could not imagine or divine. I His own scientific knowledge told him the I skill and the cost that had been necessary in constructing this terrible barrier to freedom. An electrical engineer himself, ! familiar with. Tais science in eyerj; detail^

he realised with a sick sinking of the heart that he was in no ordinary hands. He rose to his feet at length without the former confidence of his movements. He must sit down, and once more his brain must go to work to try to discover the meaning, the doubtless horrible meaning, of all this.

But what was that? — what was that upon the table?

When he had entered the Toom he was absolutely certain that upon the smooth, green expanse of the table cover there was no article whatever. Yet now there lay an envelope, a square wMte envelope with writing upon it. He half staggered to the table and picked; it up. In thin, precise, and foreign«looking writing he saw that the envelope was addressed to bin? in this style and title:

SENOR DON GILBERT ATHERTON, Mantrap Manor, Yorkshire.

A deep groan came from the young man's lips, and the sweat suddenly started out upon his face. He had a sensation as if icy water were suddenly poured down the great nerve centres which, surrounded the spine. In a flash, something, though not as yet all, of the hideous truth was TeveaJed to Mm.

For a long time he stood there turning tbe letter over and over in nerveless fingers. Then he drew a chair to the table, sank heavily -upon it, .and tore open the envelope. TMs is what he read: —

From the Senor don Ramon de Toros, of 22 Calle Concepcion Maria, Buenos Aires, and_ Clarement House, Moorches-

ter, England, at present residing at Seaborough witn ~r and Miss Wilshire, tc the Senor don Gilbert Atherton, at present residing at Kenyon Manor, long known as- Mantrap Manor. Senor, — You have played a game with

and you have not won.

dared to approach the lady wh» was my destined bride, andi who now- will t>e my -wife, witH your efforts of -what you have rashly ventured to call love. With all the Wind pigheadedness — pardon me, Senor, my emotions dictated these discourteous words — you thought that you could wear and win a flower wfliich was destined to be the property of another. You have been,> as you see, Senor, labouring under a misapipfehension.

You have also now, Senor, to pay the penalty of such presumption, and it ia a penalty which your servant ventures to think will be commensurate with the treacherous 'impudence and impudent presumption of "which you have been guilty.

It is now necessary that I should make clear to your somewhat limited intellect many things which you have not beep, able to discern. In the first place allow me to inform you that the arrival of my friend and partner, Senor Julius Wilshire, and of myself was not at all accidental, as. you may have supposed. I understand that

you are acquainted with the ancient

feud which has existed! "between your worthy father and my friend, Senor Julius Wilshire. Your father, many years ago, was guilty of an incredible treachery and perfidy to a devoted-

friend, and it was owing to that treachery that he was enabled to marry the Senorita-, your mother, and that you are now existing.

Q?or many years Senor Wilshire has been waiting for his revenge. — a revenge wMch h& was ever unwilling to take while the Senora Atiierton was alive. The death of the Senora? removed Ms only scruple, and he arrived

in England in order to take Mb re-

venge. The co-operation' of your humble sorrespondent was necessary, *nd in return for that co-operation your correspondent was promised the hand, wMch v will now shortly be his, of the Senorita Wilshire. Matters became complicated when yon, in your pre-

sumption andi foolishness-, dared to aspire to a lady far beyond your reach. I was enabled to point out to my friend and! partner how he might strike your

father a far more terrible blow through you By wreaking the wonderful vengeance to have planned upon you than upon himself. The line of Atherton is now practically extinct, or will be so in a few short daye. Thus I have been' enabled to serve my partner more completely than I had dared imagine was possible, and, at the same time, to gratify my own personal inclinations. In a short time, Senor, despite all cunning and wariness, however much you may exercise them, you will be dead, and you will die in the most terrible way which the not inconsiderable intellect of Senor Julius Wilshire

and your humble correspondent, with all' the resources of their scientific knowledge, can devise. After your death, Senor Don, Sii" William Atherton will receive photographs of your body which, your humble correspondent ventures to think, will somewhat startle him. He will be told

every detail of your week's. agony — for, Senor, we propose that you shall be a week in dymg, — and then by a certain means which Senor Julius has devised) your father also will come to join you. And I, Senc-T — I shall live in felicity in the warm South, in spicy winds 1 ' and under the great round moon, among the flowers, clasping in my arms the supreme flower wMch, you made it your puny andl impotent effort to win. Now, Senor, you have the gist of the matter. In conclusion, let me inform you that, try as you will, you will be •unable to escape your doom. In this house, but a few miles away from your own honoured father's residence, - you aTe surrounded by -unseen forces of science. The greatest power of the most celebrated inventor of this age, assisted by one who may- perhaps not be considered: an unworthy lieutenant "of

his chief, has been devised fco- compase your destruction. Already you hav6 vanished from the world of men, and have left no trace behind. And now, Senor, I have but to wisl you a merry passage to the Shades, anf to inform you that I shall not be igno. rant of any single incident of you( journey thither. I have the honour to be, Senor Doll with the assurances of my ddstinguishev consideration, * Ramon de ToroSs (To be continued.)