THE JEW'S HOUSE.

Otago Witness, Issue 2913, 12 January 1910, Page 81

THE JEW'S HOUSE.

By Fergus Hcme.

CHAPTER XX.—(Continued.)

"Lancelot!" chimed in hie cousin, turning pale also, "what are you saying?" Wain stood still, as though turned to stone. "I thought the secret would have died with heir,"' he muttered. "All the same, Ben-Ezra has gone up to see Handy Luck and to tell him the truth. Everyone will know soon, so you may as well know now. Blanche—that is, Ida—is accused by Ben-Ezra of having murdered Sir Giles. His evidence is a bracelet of silver and turquoise stones, the property of my wife, which he found on the floor of the drawing room immediately after the murder—plain evidence that she had been there. My wife's sister is Mrs Jorvin, the housekeeper, who is a stranger to mi. She—acccirding to Ben-Ezra, —admitted my wife into the grounds of the Hal] through the back gate," of which she had the key." "That is wrong," said Ashton sharply. "Daxley tells a different story." "Daxley!" said Miss Merton, who was listening with deep interest; "the man is dead and buried, having confessed to the murder."

"He did so to help Miss CasheH's schemes, on condition that his child was looked after," explained Lancelot quickly. "How do you know?" demanded Wain, whose face was very pale and whose eyes were like burning stars. Ashton fished in his pocket and produced the blue paper. "Read that!" The journalist did so. "So she followed Daxley through the open gate when he went to rob," said Wain with a shrug, 'and he saw her shoot. Humph! She is guilty right enough and Ben-Ezra is He handed back the paper to Ashton, who for one. moment thought that to save his wife he was about to tear it up. .*:' .-\

"What's to be done?" asked the young man, somewhat embarrassed, as he slipped the paper into : his pocket.

"Nothing is to be done, save to leave the business in Ben-Ezra's hands. He hates my wife, and has every cause to. You must give him.-that paper, so as to nrove her guilt. She has sinned and must be punished. It is scarcely fair that Daxl-ey's memory should lie under such a stigma."

"She is your wife and a woman, remember,'' said Miss Merton calmly; "you should show her charity." \

"I show her as much as- I am able, and will doubtless show her more when she is dead," said Wain, wincing. He knew that his behaviour was somewhat at variance with his principles » but. in this he was extremely human. "When she is dead on the scaffold?" sard Miss Merton, shuddering. "I don't think it'will get so far," said Wain, trying to speak with composure. "She is dying. But I can't tell; perhaps you will come and see, Miss Merton. Even though she- has sinned as she has done you will not condemn her too harshly." *"I will ccime with you," said Miss Merton; "but it's |a horrible* story, and makes me feel quite ill. Ah!" she swayed a trifle and causht at her cousin's arm. "I feel quite ill," she repeated. . "Better lie down, Susan, and go to see Mrs Wain " "Miss-Cashell," interposed the husband, frowning. "Well, then, see M; ; es Cashell later." "No! no!' Getone the South American Drops. Lancelot"/"'-'They are on the mantelpiece in my bedroom; or stay. I will go myself." and she walked out of the room in a fairly steady fashion, although her face was white ..and there were dark rings under her eyes. ~,..-,... "What are th : e,;,South American Drops?" asked Wain idly. . "Oh, it's a special kind of d-rus which a> great friend of" General Ashton's gave him to allav-pa-ih. One or two drops cure, but half a dozen kill. It is a stromr poison as veil''as ah excellent medicine." ''•Bather a dangerous drug to have about OP«." i ;,!.;■ Lancelot shrugeed bis shoulders. "Oh, Susan has used it-for years. She puffers from spasms, you know. Your story and mine- has upset her. But she will take J he drops and be all right in ten minutes. r "'hen she can go to see your —that is, Miss Cash-ell." W'ain nodded, and then ensued a lon-fr :' ; len.ce. "It's a. strange story," he said ot length, "and. a. very painful one. I hone she'll die," he ended abruptly. "Well," said Ashton. with a- sicrh. "her death' would certainly solve all difficultv. But Ben-Ezra, will keep her alive, if only to hang her." Wain nodded. "He's a very unforgiving man." - - - - - CHAPTER XXI.—AFTERNOON TEA. Ben-Ezra was never in a hurry, and he r.wed much of bis good fortune to his leisurely way of going about his business. Whatever, his. plans might be, be thought them out thoroughly, and never disarranged them unless the unexpected, occurred. - Knowing human nature as he did. and the extreme trickiness of people working, for self, he invariably made allowance for anything unforeseen, and then used what might be called his reserye plans to remedy any deficiency in his main tactics. In this way he usually managed to get the better of those who were against him. And these were many, for as has." been seen—Ben-Ezra could scarcely be called a' popular character. The Jew, therefore, remained in town for the night and. the greater part of ■next day. During that time be had. a visit from Lancelot Ashton, and became possessed of the scrap of blue paper which fixed the guilt convincingly on Ida Cashell. Of course Ben-Ezra was sorry for Wain, as, if Z>*a was brought to booH,

the whole story of the unhappy marriage would be bound to be made public. But Ben-Ezra could not' afford to forego his vengeance for that reason. Moreover, to repay Wain for the pain he would suffer, the Jew had given him a good position as editor, and was about to pay him an excellent salary. All the same he knew that lie was securing a first-rate man for the Midnight S»*, That was Ben-Ezra, all over. He* ewwap j*oured three olives from a third pere*:i. without taking two to himself.

After learning all that Ashton had to say, Ben-Ezra dismissed him with great politeness, and sought out his solicitor. Handy Luck was much interested in this latest development of the case. Although on the evidence of the bracelet and the written accusation Miss Cashell could be arrested at once, Luck had advised delay for a few days in order that the matter might be investigated. There would be no danger of Miss Cashell escaping, he pointed out, since' the governess was seriously ill, and at Bruntlea, under BenEzra's own eye. At all events, Handy Luck concluded, if his client would leave the bracelet and the written paper handed over by Ashton, he would see what course was best to be taken. Ben-Ezra listened to the legal advice, and took his own way, as usual. That is, he declined to part with either the trinket or the accusation, and kept them in his own pocket. 'Til take so mjch of your advice as to wait," said the Jew grimly, "for, as you say, Miss Cashell is fixed, and we have time at our disposal. When next I come up, I'll bring further evidence. That is, I'll see Lady Dove and her son, to prove how the bracelet passed into Miss CasheH's possession. My own evidence will show how ishe dropped it in the drawing room. Also—but" that's as far as I've got just now. Hold your tongue, Luck, and wait further instructions." 0 The solicitor was disappointed, m the case was interesting. But he could do nothing else save promise to keep his mouth shut, and bowed his client out of the office. As usnal, he believed that BenEzra had something more up his skwe, which he would pull down when the time came. "That miserable woman is as good as dead," thought Handy Luck, when he returned to his work. "I'd rather have a bloodhound on my track than BenEzra."

, JSS .it would seem tliat the Jew had gained little by his journey to London, but the waste of time did not seem to trouble him. He arrived at Bruntlea, •and went straight to the Princess Hotel. There he- gathered that Miss Cashell was extremely ill, and quite delirious. Wain could not be found, but Ben-Ezra did not mind that, .as he knew he could lay hands. on jtbs journalist when necessary. Meanwhile,; the governess was safe, and that was all that Ben-Ezra cared about for the moment. Ko then proceeded to his office and read his correspondence. Amongst •hfe 'letters he found an invitation from Miss; Merton, asking him to tea that afternoon. :"'Hum!" said Ben-Ezra to himself, as ha read and re-read this polite note; "that .woman writes to me when she hates me like poison. Now, I wonder what this means;" He sat down to puzzle it out. From Ashton he had learned that Miss Merton' knew all that bad been discovered with relation to the murder, and had expressed a certain amount of sympathy for Miss Cash ell. As Miss Merton was a good woman—Ben-Ezra acknowledged that much; in spite of her. oper hatred for him—it was natural that she should be sorry for the governess, struck down in the midst of her sins. Perhaps she intended to plead with the Jew that he should pardon his enemy. Ben-Ezra's mouth twisted grimly at the bare idea. "She will find herself mistaken if she thinks. I am so soft as that," his muttered. Then it occurred to him that, as Miss Merton was aware of Judith being his niece,- she wished to insist that the marriage with her cousin should not take place. Or it might be—.and Ben-Ezra again smiled grimly—that Miss Merton was willing to- pardon her enemy if on the marriage he gave back Tanbuck Hall' to Judith and Ashton as the dowry of the bride. But whatever might be the reason for' Miss Morton's polite invitation the Jew. felt a great curiosity to learn what it- was. "I shall go," he said, folding up the letter... "since I have nothing to do in the afternoon, and whatever tricks she may be up to I must learn, so as to be on my guard. Yes, I'll go." With this idea in his head, he sent a verbal mesage by Silas that he. would be pleased to wait on Miss Merton. at- 4 o'clock —the time she named. He then began to wonder if Lancelot would be there, and decided that if he was an explanation could be made. Ben-Ezra bad schemed to attain a certain end for many years; but with the arrest of Mies Cashell—that is, as he considered she was as good as arrested —the goal had been reached. It was now his desire to explain himself to Miss -Merton and Lancelot Ashton. For this reason the Jew was anxious that the young man should be present. ■'■ But he was not. When Ben-Ezra arrived in the small drawing room of the small house he found- Miss Merton alone. Of course, he knew her very well, especially in the old splendid days when, she had been a great lady. But of late he had scarcely seen her, since she kept scrupulously out of his way. Now he looked with interest en her, as she stood nervously welcoming him to her poor abode. She'had lost whatever looks she had, he decided—not that these were ever great. The black silk dress—a remnant of her rich'days—hung loosely on her lean figure, and only her natural grace saved her from being awkward. ' Witb her drab-hued face, her weak eyes and multitudinous wrinkles, she looked a singularly plain woman. Ben-Ezra bad an Oriental love

for beauty in women, and suppressed a shiver as he seated himself at her request. "I little thought," said Miss Merton, nervously touching the cups and saucers on the wicker table, "that I should ever ask you here to eat with me. But I have a reason for it." . " I trust it is a pleasant one, said Ben-Ezra gravely; "there has been so much unpleasantness between us that it is time a change was made." j " The reason," said Miss Merton, drawi ing up her spare form, "is pleasant to one person, at least." "To your cousin, Mr Ashton? asked Ben-Ezra, still watchful and polite. "You will hear Avhen we have had something to eat and drink, sir." While speaking, she also looked searchin<dy at the Jew, and noted his dark face, his hair streaked with grey, and the wonderful mesmeric influence of his black eves Whatever Ben-Ezra might have been in Barbary long years ago, he certainly was a gentleman in England, His manner was quiet, his words and actions were most polite, and in every way he displayed a deferential manner which hall P eased and half annoyed Miss Merton. Pleased her because she held that nam should be chivalrous to women and annoyed her because she thought his manner -very unjustly-to be cringing. However as I well-bred gentlewoman she oSd not but respond jto the evident desire of Ben-Ezra to behave m a fiiendly I wonder you came to see me at all " she said, following the trend of me Why mince matters.' „ J " We have every reason to hate you, she retorted, with an angry «"£• "Pardon me, before the end of ourjn tsrview I hope to convince you jour mistake. lam your "You are the man who cheated General ABh J° r U arjd " Here Miss Merton remen Sred that the Jew was in her bouse and about to partake of her hospitality "Never mind," she said; "let us have our tea first, and then we ean exchange confidences; lam sorry my cousin * not bore • but to-day he went to his office^ ! "He doesn't know that lam here. I " No/'' said Mies Merton abruptly ; no one knows .save my servant," "\nd my clerk Silas," corrected BenEzra- ; ■•" remember "I sent him to you with a verbal acceptance of your kind invitation." . , Miss Morton shrugged her lean shoulders! '"Oh, well, it doesn't matter. He-re is the tea. Place it here, Sophy, and leave .us. I do'.not wish to be interrupted for at least an hour." The small servant—one of the poor children who had been picked up in the. Bruntlea slums by Miss Merton—placed the teapot before her mistress and withdrew, with a swift glance at Ben-Ezra. She knew him well as the landlord to whom her mother had paid many a hardly-earned shilling, and had a considerable fear of : him. However, she withdrew quietly/and closed the door. Ben-Ezra leaned back in his chair, wondering more than ever what Mies- Merton desired to see him about. To get at her thoughts he made a little speech when she handed him his cup of tea. " I am of Arab blood," he said gracefully, "and you know, Miss Merton, what reverence our race attaches to bread and salt. lam eating yours, so I trust that j you mean to end the long feud between us." i "Yes, I can promise that," she said, with ; a slight, sour smile ; "you will find me i more anxious to end the feud than Lance- ! lot." ! "Yet if he wishes to mary my niece, he must end the feud," hinted Ben-Ezra. "Oh, no. Ha wall marry her in spite , of you, and intends to take her away to ; Australia," " There are many things he must learn before he can do that. When Judith discovers that I am her uncle—which she dees not know yet—she will recognise that she owes a certain duty to me," . " She does know," said Miss Merton, ! sipping her own tea and pushing a plate : of bread and butter, towards her guest. j "Lancelot told her last night, after he : learned the truth from Mr Wain." _ Ben-Ezra frowned and set down his cup I empty. "Mr Wain had no right to speak I of my private affairs." i "He did, however, and told us every- |. thing. Judith does recognise that she owes you much, since you gave her a good home and are the brother of her mother. All the same, although she may obey you in all else, she will not permit you to interfere with her marriage." j "I have no wish to interfere," said BenEzra, quietly. ' . " What!" Miss Merton almost dropped 1 the teapot. "Do you mean to say that you are willing for your niece to marry your enemy?" "Yes; Judith loves him, so why not? "But you told Lancelot that you disapproved of the marriage." • "I did, my dear-lady. Do you not 1 know that when obstacles are placed m : the way of a young man it makes him the more eager to get at the- goal which those same obstacles prevent him from attaining Consequently, because. I did not approve of the marriage, Mr Ashton is ten times more anxious than he has been to settle the match. I have simply aided him in his wooing." "But why did you do that?" asked Miss Merton, stretching out her hand for Ben - Ezra's cup. "Oh, I am a strange man, and less black"—Ben-Ezra was so emphatic as to .repeat the words twice —"less black than I am painted." '■■' i: :" In that case," said the hostess, filling <: a second cup of tea. " you should beleni--

ent to Miss Cashell, and—oh," she set down the cup and lifted her finger, "didn't you hear a knock? ' I believe Mr Wain must be coming. Would you mind looking out of the window, Mr Ben-Ezr? ? I have much to say to you, and do not wish to be interrupted." " Certainly !" said Ben-Ezra, rising and going to the small window. "No, Miss Merton, there is no one at the door: you must-be mistaken." "Very probably," sighed Miss Merton, nervously ;"I am quite a wreck. The story of that poor woman upset me greatly." She passed along the second cup o'f tea. "You must really forgive her." "No," said the Jew decisively; " I ami willing to do all I can to bring about pleasant relations between us, but I cannot forgive the woman who lured my sister's husband from her and broke my sister's heart." "But if she is not guilty " Ben-Ezra drank half a cup of tea, wiped his mouth, and interrupted. "But she is guilty, Miss Merton. Not only does she admit ownership of the silver bracelet which I found in the Tanbuck Hall drawing room, but the confession of Daxley places the matter beyond all doubt." "Daxley told a lie before: he might have done so again." "Why should he?" "So that Miss Cashell might be forced to look after the child." "Quite so," said the Jew courteously; "but by denouncing Miss Cashell the man stopped her from doing anything for the child. Luckily, Mabel will be well looked after by those "good Verilys. As to Miss Cashell, she must hang." "Perhaps she will die," said Miss Merton, nervously. " I saw her both to-day and yesterday, and she is very ill." " She shall" be nursed back to health, so that she can take her trial," said BenEzra stubbornly. "I am determined to punish hex," and he set down IriV empty cup with the air. of a man who has made up his mind. "You have punished her sufficiently for taking away your brother-in-law." " Perhaps, as she is so ill. But murder is a capital offence " " Of which," said Miss Merton, in a nervous voice, "Miss Cashell is entirely innocent." "You can't prove that." "Yes I can." Miss Merton leaned back and gathered herself together to make a serious confession. "I murdered Sir Giles." Ben-Ezra rose as though he had been moved by springs. . For the first time in his life he war> thunderstruck.., Of all the unforeseen things which might have happened, this was the last he expected to face. "You are mad!" " I daresay," retorted the spinster, in hard tones, "and with a red light in her weak eyes; '.'but there is method in my madness, as you will find out. I murdered Sir Giks right enough—by mistake, thai/ is. I came to Tanbuck Hah 1 on that night to murder you." "Murder me!" gasped Ben-Ezra; "why, in heaven's name." Then all the pent-up fury of the woman broke out. She had suppressed her hatred and wrath up to this point, but the question of Ben-Ezra brought forth her real feelings with a rush. "You ask that?" she cried, leaping to her feet with a livid face, and pointing an accusing fingor at him; "you ask that, when you swindled my cousin, the General, and broke the good old man's heart, and ruined my boy Lancelot, whom I love as if I were his mother ? You live in our house—in his house, and it is called the Jew's House. You spider ! —you reptile !—you brute!—you—you While she was thinking for another word Ben-Ezra threw up his hand to stop her. She did stop, but for want of breath, and not because he wished her to. "Later I can explain myself, and show how wrong you are. Meanwhile, perhaps you will explain why you murdered Sir Giles instead of me." , "Do you feel well enough to hear it? panted Miss Merton, with a glare of fury, as Ben-Ezra sank back into' his chair. "Yes, I feel well enough to hear all you have to say."

" Sign that, then." From her pocket she produced a paper inscribed with one short line, and banded it with quivering fingers to her enemy. Ben-Ezra read it rapidly. " Ida Cashell is innocent," he read, and lifted his eyebrows. "Oh, I will sign this with pleasure if you will let me add : ' and Susan Merton is guilty.' " "I don't care," she exclaimed recklessly. "I called you here, to confess to you, because as a Christian woman I could not see another person suffer for my sin." "So vou are a Christian woman," murmured Ben-Ezra, placing the piece of paper carefullv on the wicker table ; "well, then, I am glad that I am not a Christian. And I am pleased that you call your wicked act a sin." "It was a sin to kill Sir Giles ; it would not be a sin to kill you." " Oh, I am not afraid," said Ben-Ezra calmly,' and keeping his eye on her, for she looked as though she were about to spring on him ; "you can't hurt me in any way." "Don't be too sure of that,' she snarled, looking dangerous. "Really, Miss Merton, I cannot understand you, although I always believed myself to be a good judge of human nature. You call yourself a Christian woman, and, as I know, you have done much good amongst the poor. Yet you acknowledge that you have murdered a man, and but for Daxley's confession would have let mo be hanged." " I was very angry that Daxley saved you," said Miss Merton, still standing and looking singularly venomous. " I would much rather that he had denounced me. Much rather—much rather." "Oh, so Daxley knew that you were guilty?'-' "Yes," said Miss Merton, callously, aa<s wijping hex drai» 'ace, which streamed witis-

.perspiration. "The story he told Inspec tor Quill is practically the truth, only you must substitute me for Daxky. I wished to kill you, and I thought of every way of killing you." ''Why?" asked Ben-Ezra, caressing his beard and eyeing her "Because I hated you as a thief and a swindler and a cheat. I could £>ee no way to kill you, and then. I thought that I would try and get into the park in the hope of stabbing you. I ha"d done much for Daxley, and he was very grateful to me. Besides, there was a common bond between us, that you had ruined us both." "Daxley was a hound who tormented me years ago in. this very place," snapped Ben-Ezra angrily; "he deserved what he got." "Did I deserve it?—did Lancelot?—did the General?" "If you will let me explain " "I shall explain first," ishe interrupted imperiously ; "the time- is short, and there is much to be said." "Oh," said Ben-Ezra with a shrug, "I shall wait here as 'ong as you like." Miss Merton took no notice of him, but, leaning against the wall, went on speaking rapidly. "I got Daxley to make a false key of the gate, although I refused to tell him why I wanted it. He thought I merely wished to taunt you and give you the length of my tongue. I got the key, and, hearing that you would meet Sir Giles at the Hall, I crept out 'into the fog. Daxley, who was suspicious of my movements, followed me. I watched at the window, and saw Sir Giles interview, you and .leave you. I was beside the window in the darkness and fog when he went out. Daxley was near me, but I did not know that until later. When you left the room, I broke the window, because I saw the revolver on the sidetable. I got it and went out again. I fancied that the smashing of the glass would bring you back, and that I could then shoot you through the window. Then Sir Giles came—and—you know the rest." she finished abruptly. "From what was written, in Daxley's confession! I can," said Ben-Ezra, slowly nodding. "Sir Giles came back and struggled with you." "Yes. I showed myself too freely while watching for you, and, coming up the terrace steps, Sir Giles saw me in the light. Believing that I was a burglar, he fiung himself on me, thinking, I supnose, if he saved your house from being burgled that you would sell it to him. In my dismay I fired blindly, and Sir Giles fell. I saw his face in the light, and at first I was afraid. Then it suddenly flashed across me that, as Sir Giles and you had quarrelled, you would be accused. To bring you to the spot I fired the other two shots into the body and fled, throwing down the revolver, The rest you know."' "I don't know how Miss Cashell's bracelet came to he-*- —" "I dropped it," said Miss Merton abruptly. " Mabel stole the bracelet from Miss Cashell when she came, at Lady Dove's request, to see her father. I did not know that the bracelet was stolen, and I never" saw it on Miss Cashell's wrist. It was a. cheap thing, and Mabel told me that it had belonged to her mother, and asked me to wear it, because I had been kind to her daddy. To please the child, I wore it. The clasp was weak, and when I crossed the drawing room to get the revolver I suppose it fell off my wrist. If you ask Mabel Daxley she will tell you how she gave it to me Is there any other point on which you would like to" be enlightened?" "Yes. When did you learn that Daxley. knew?" "He told me the next day when. I saw 1 him, and rejoiced when he heard that you had been arrested. I' rejoiced, too, as you would suffer—as I thought—a, much more terrible death ih-an the one I intended to inflict upon you. Daxley swore that he would never betrav me, so when Miss Cashell came to see him, he swore that he was guilty, in order to save me from possible discovery. Then he left the written statement in.. Mabel's hand, also to save me, as he accused Miss Cashell. I was angry at Daxlev-.-fa. saving you:' hut I must save Miss Caishell in my turn. SiQ-n that paper," .'he pointed to the table. ' "All in tr-ood time,"' said Be.n-F?ira leisurely. "Do you know, that, after this confession. I can have you arrested?" "Yes. Arrest me if you like." .said 'Miss Merton wearily, and-leaned heavily against the wall. Ben-Kzra stood up. '"No," he said gravely, "you shall s;o free.," The woman "tared aghast. . "But I am guilty." "i knew. Still, you are prenared to sacrifice yourself to save the life of' an Innocent woman—innocent, at least, an far ps this crime goes. But I can't have you hanged. A slur would be left on your cousin's name, and lie is going to marry my niece. I shall sav nothing of this you have told me. I shall give you money to. leave England and allow you an income if you will arrange to live in South America." "And Miss Cashell?" "I will sign this." Ben-Ezra rapidly took out his fountain-pen and scrawled his signature. "Not that it is needed, ns I simply will take no steps aeainst her, and my lawyer will sav nothing. I nan exnlain everything to Wain and Ashtoit without- bringing in your name. Now, Miss Merton. am I such, a villain as you thought me?" -.- '. ■: • . "No," said the spinster faintly; "but why are vou doing this, when you hate me and hate Lancelot?" "I don't hate either of you." said BenEzra, smoothly: "that, is "where you are mistaken, and what I have come to exp?s4s. You think tf>at X cheated tV

sat down in his chair abruptly. "I feel ratfber faint." "The air is close in this room," murmured Miss Merton faintly; "open the window." Ben-Ezra rose and did so, but had again to Kit down, so faint did he feel. Ascribing it to the want of air, he thought that it would soon 2">ass away, and went on talking with his old directness. "I wished to benefit the man who had helped me: to benefit him and his grandson. I saw that the old General was a spendthrift, and would waste the estates and income. His son who was dead had also been a spendthrift, and the mother of his grandson had been frivolous and wasteful I wished to save Lancelot Ashton from suffering for the crimes of his race, and also I Avished to teach him the value of money. I therefore arranged to give the General a, sum of money to live on, provided that he transferred the Hall and his income to me as trustee for his grandson." "What—what—what?" stuttered Mies Merton ; "as—as—trustee?" "You are ill," said Ben-Ezra; "let me lift you into a chair." "No, no! Go on, go on," she breathed feverishly. Ben-Ezra was glad that she did not wish to be moved, because he felt ill himself. "I wish I had some brandy," he muttered, then continued with an effort. "I will be as short as possible and leave you, as I don't feel very well. A man of my age is liable to these sudden attacks of faintness. Well, my dear lady, the General agreed, and died, as you know, well provided for to the end of his days. He also saw my point. I therefore invested the income and kept up the Hall, intending, when Lancelot Ashton had learned his lesson of poverty to hand over both to him, under his grandfather's will, which- is in my possession. I wished at the time to help him a trifle, but you refused." "Yes." said the weary voice of Miss Merton, "I refused. But you should have told me of your intention." "I did not wish anyone tc know it, and so bore all the hard things that were said about me. It was I who invented the fictitious relative in Devonshire and paid for the boy's education. I watched over Lancelot always, and saw that the lesson of poverty he was learning was making a man of him. When I was accused of the murder I gave him _his first chance, although, had I not guessed—as I fancied—from the bracelet, that Mies Cashell was guilty, I should scarcely have •entrusted my life to his untried hands. But now that everything is rjght I will see him and deliver up my charge, -. He will again be Ashton of Tanbuck Hall, with an income of seven thousand a year, since I have invested the money excellently. All the papers—the old General's will and my will—are in my office, and there will 'be no difficulty in his entering into possession." Miss Merton scrambled with difficulty into her chair. "Judith," she said. "I hoped all along that the boy would fall in love with Judith," explained BenEzra, "as his children will have in them a needful drop of Jewish blood to keep them straight. There will be no more spendthrift Ashtons, Miss Merton, you may be certain of that." "But why—why didn't you tell me all this?" she wailed. "It was not necessary, as you could not help me, and, being a woman, mjght have told the boy beforehand. I wished to surprise him. But now the time has come, and he will learn that the Jew is not quite so evil as he had been said to be. As to yourself, yon can go to South America, and live there until 7/011 die. That must be your expiation for your crime. Miss Cashell may die, or she may not. If she lives, I shall let her go and give her some money to start again in America, since I aim. persuaded that her husband will not take her back again. Yes," said Ben-Ezra, after a pause, "I shall forgive my enemy. She is innocent of this murder, and has suffered enough in seeing (her plans all ruined. Wain, of course, will be editor, so he is all right, and I shall look after the child Mabel. But oh, Miss Merton, why tiid you not trust me " "How could I?" cried the spinster, rising in her chair, and dropping back from sheer faintness ; "you never told me, y r ou never —never —oh, I aim. sorry that I have done what I have done." "What is that?" asked Ben-Ezra, who was beginning to- feel alarmed, both because he felt so terribly weak, and from the strange look she cast upon him. Miss Merton gasped. "As I could not kill you in one way, -I tried to kill you in another," she wailed, "I have poisoned you." The Jew uttered a cry and strove to rise. "You have poisoned—Oh!" "The South American Drops," wailed the. woman, clutching at the arms of her chair; "six drops kill. I gave you three drops in each cup of tea you drank. You are a dead man in a few minutes. There is no antidote." "Wretched woman! And you? Oh! oh! oh!" groaned the Jew faintly, and closed his eyes. "I am dying also. I poisoned myse'f in the tea also. I have destroyed the bottle. 1 gave you the second three drops when I asked you to see if Mr Wain was at the door, and—and " she stopped, and lay as one dead. Ben-E'zrai tried' to open his eyes, and could not. There was a drumming in his ears and 1 a rushing like the sound of many waters. Ha .knew that he was dying, and with an effort be opened his eyes to stare at the white face of the repented murderess. "You—you— have robbed—me of my life's triumph," lie moaned 1 "you—you—oh!—oh!"

The voices died away in a long drawl. Ben-Ezra did not feel ill: lie was not in pain. He simply felt that life was ebbing from him. The South American Drops were at least painless in theirs operation. Agair with an effort he opened his eyes. There was a haze in the room, through which, indistinctly, he saw the Aweary, pallid face of Miss Merton. She was just at her last breath. .Ben-Ezra's eyas closed again, and he fell into soma gulf of blackness, whence he knew that lie would never, never emerge. An hour later Lancelot Ashton entered the drawing room, to find the dead man and woman seated in opposite chairs, white, stiff, and silent. (To be continued.