In White Raiment.

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 22, Issue 66, 25 August 1911, Page 5

In White Raiment.

•Copyright,

By William Le Queux,

Author of “ Whoso Findeth a Wife,”' “Purple and Fine Linen,” “The Day of Temptation,” “Of Royal Blood,” &c., fee, / PART 18. CHAPTER XXVlll.—(Continued.) 1 "La Gioia!” he gasped, glaring at me. Eis face was livid, and his surprise apparent. I saw that he had never dreamt that I knew of her existence. “ You see, I may bo a confounded 'OOI, as you have declared,” I said. ‘ But I have not been idle during these post months. La Gioia’s revenge is mine also. , He made no response. My words had, as I intended-, produced an overwhelming effect upon him. He saw that if La Gioia s secret was out he stood in deadliest pexii. I had impressed him with an intimate knowledge of the whole affair. I It was at that moment he showed himself full of resourceful i “ The vengeance of La Gioia will fall upon the woman who is your wife—not upon myself.” , j “And through whom? I cried. _ through yourself and your accomplice Tat.tersett, who betrayed Beryl into her hands. ETha mystery at Whitton is to me- no mysery, for 1 know the truth. He glared at me as though I if®* vil vision, and I knew that by Xnae Iwords 1 was slowly thrusting home the It ruth. . _ . , ( “ What have I to do with the affair at iWhitton?” he cried. “I know nothing of i ‘ . i Ll.l

, “I may, perhaps, be enabled to prove differently,’’ I said. ; “Do you then allege that I am imphcated in the colonel’s death?” he exclaimed furiously. I “ I have my own opinion,” I responded. “ Remember that you once Inade a desperate and dastardly attempt to kill me fearing lest I should denounce you as having tried to bribe me ‘to commit murder.” I His eyes glittered, and I saw that ms .anger was* unbounded. We stood there in 'the calm sunset near the lakeside, and I i could see that he would rid himself of me, if such a course were possible. But I thought of Beryl. Ah! how I loved her. That she had fallen a victim of the cleverly contrived conspiracy incensed me, and I resolved to show the scoundrel no quarter. “ Well,” he said at last, in a tone of defiance, “ and after all these wild allegations what can you do? Surely you do not 'think that I fear any statements that you can make?” ; “You may not fear any statement, of mine, but I do not anticipate that you will invite La Gioia to reveal all she knows. The latter might place you in enforced confinement for a few years.” “La Gioia is at liberty to say whatever ihe likes,” he answered. “If she is actuilly a friend of Beryl’s she will no doubt issist you. But at present she is her deadliest antagonist. Therefore if you take my id vice you’ll just calm yourself and await mother opportunity for revenge at a later late.”

His cool words caused my blood to boil. “You treat this affair as though it were V matter of little importance, sir !’’ I cried. ‘ Let me tell you, however, that I have been pour victim, and I intend to-probe the matter to the bottom and ascertain your motives.”

■ “ That you’ll never do,” he laughed. ! “I tell you I will!” I cried. ‘‘l am Beryl’s husband, and she is no longer defenceless. You have to answer to me!” . “I have answered you, by saying that in future you are at liberty to act just as you think fit. I merely warn you that La. Gioia is no more your friend than she iai your wife’s.” ‘‘You contrived to entrap mo into marriage. Why? Answer me that question,” [ demanded.

; " I refuse. You have threatened me with ill sorts of pains and penalties, but 1 defy you!” He took a cigar from his silver case, and, biting off the end, leisurely lit it, j His countenance had chanced. It was Mow the same gray sinister face—that face jthat had so long haunted me in my dream ! —the face of the Tempter. “Have you finished?” he asked, wir.h. mock politeness. “For the moment, yes,” 1 answered,“But yours is an ill-advised defiance, as you will very soon see.” Ho burst forth into a peal of strained*' unnatural laughter, whereat I turned upon my heel and left him standing there, a darksilhouette in the crimson sunset.

Blindly I walked on to the house, dressed mechanically, and descended late for dinner. But the Tempter was not in his place. Ho bad been called away to London, it was said, and had been compelled to catch the 7.30 train from Corsham

I glanced at my watch. Already it was 7.35. I had blundered, and had allowed him to slip through my fingers. I bit my Hip in mad vexation. Beryl's beautiful eyes were fixed upon me, and in her face I detected deep anxiety. She looked perfectly charming in a gown of pale-pink crepe de chine. Had he sought her before departure? L wondered.

“It’s an awful disappointment that he has had to leave,” said the baronet’s wife. “ I endeavoured to persuade him to remain until the morning, but he received a letter by the afternoon post making it imperative that he should return to London. But he says he will be back again either on Monday or Tuesday.” “I do hope he will return.” observed someone at the end of the table, and then the subject dropped. When the ladies had left the room Sir Henry remarked: “Queer fellow, Ashwicke. A bit eccentric, I always think. His movements are anost erratic—a regular rolling stone.” j I embraced that opportunity to inquire regarding his antecedents. But my host appeared to kuow very little beyond the fact <hat he was wealthy, good company, a keen sportsm in, and moved in a very smart set in town.

“ I’ve known him a coftple of years or so. lie's a member of my club,” he added.

“ My wife declares that none of the parties are 'really complete without him.” “Do yon know his friend Tattersett— Major Tattersett?”

“ No/’ responded Sir Henry, “never met him."

With the others, I went along to the drawing-room and found Beryl alone in a cosy corner obviously awaiting me. She twislnd a luce scarf about her shoulders and we strolled out upon the terrace, a wa# our habit «teh weening if fine and starlight. When ws hfti gained the further ml she suddenly halted, and turning to mm said te a low, beaky eofee that trembled with mmotioo:

* Dr. Coliirk, yea have detwived me!” * Jhecerrmi roa, Miss Wjnodf” I exiahdmed. Cakeu completely shark by her alhynkm.. "HowT ] ■*! know the truth—a truth that you candeny, t—i ktu ytmr wife!” m l 4c w» m*k to Any it,- I imnd

in deep solemn earnestness, taking her small white hand in mine. “It is true, Beryl, that you are my wife—true also that I love you.” “ But it cannot be possible!” she gasped. “I knew that I was a wife, but never dreamed that you were actually my husband. ”

“And how did you discover it?” " I was down by the waterside this evening before dinner, and overheard your conversation with Mr. AshwiCke.” . “-All of it?”

“ Yes, all of it. I know that I am your wife,” and she sighed while her little hand trembled within mine.

“I love you, Beryl,” I said, simply and earnestly. “I have known all along that you are my wife, yet I dared not tell yon so, being unable to offer sufficient proof of it, and unable to convince you of my affection. Yet in these weeks that have passed you have surely seen that I am devoted to you—that I love you with a strange and deeper love than ever man has borne within his heart. A thousand times I have longed to tell you this, but have always feared to do-so. The truth is that you are my wife—my adored.” Her hand tightened upon-mine, and unable to restrain her emotion further she burst into tears.

“ Tell me, darling,” I whispered into her ear, “ tell mo that you will try to love me, now that you know the truth. Tell me that you forgive me for keeping the secret until now, for as I will show you it was entirely in our mutual interests. We have both been victims of a vile and widespread conspiracy, therefore we must unite our efforts to combat the vengeance of our enemies. Tell me that you will try and love me—nay, that you do love me a little. Give me hope, darling, and let ns act together as man and wife.” “ But it is so sudden,” she faltered. “ 1 hardly know my own feelings.” “You know whether you love me, or whether you hats me,” I said, placing my hand around her slim waist and drawing her towards me.

“ No,” she responded in a low voice, “ I do not hate you—how could I ?” “ Then you love me—you really love me, after all!” I cried in joy. For answer she burst again into a flood of tears, and I with mad passion covered her white brow with hot kisses, while she clung to me, my love —my wife. Ah! when I reflect upon the ecstacy of thoso moments, how I kissed her sweet lips, and she in return responded to my tender caresses; how she clung to me as though shrinking in fear from tho world about her, how her heart beat quickly in unison with my cwn, I feel that I cannot properly convey here a sufficient sense of my wild delight. It is enough to say that in those tender moments I knew that ! had won the most beautiful and. graceful woman I bad ever beheld—a woman who was peerless above all—and' that she was already my wife. The man who reads this narrative, and whose own love has been reciprocated after long waiting as mine had been, can alone understand the blissful happiness that came to me, and the complete joy that filled my heart. Wo stood lost in the ecstacy of each other’s love, heedless of time, heedless of those who might discover us, heedless of everything. The remembrance of that hour remains with me to-day like a pleasant dream, a foretaste of the bliss of paradise. Many were the questions that I asked and answered, many our declarations of affection and of fidelity. Our marriage had been 'made by false contract on that fateful day months before, but that night, beneath the shining stars, we exchanged solemn vows before God as man and wife. I endeavoured to obtain from her some facts regarding Ashwicke and his accomplice Tattersett, but what she knew seemed very unsatisfactory. I related to hcP' whole of the curious circumstances of our marriage, just as I have recounted it in the opening chapters of my narrative, seeking neither to suppress nor exaggerate any of the many singular incidents. Then at last she made confession—a strange amazing' confession which held me dumb.

CHAPTER XXIX, Put to the Test.

“I remember very little of the events of that day,” my love said with some reluctance “ I knew Ashwicke, he having been a guest here last year, and a frequent visitor at Gloucester Square. With Nora and Sir Henry I returned ter London in early May, after wintering in Florence, and one morning at the end of June I met Major Tattersett unexpectedly in the Burlington. He told me that his sister and niece from Scotland were visiting him at his house in Queen’s Gate Gardens, and invited me to call, and make their acquaintance." “ Had you never been to his house previously?” “ Never. He, however, gave me an invitation to luncheon for the 24th of July, which I accepted On arrival I found the major, his sister, and his niece were out shopping; therefore I sat alone awaiting them in the drawing-room, when of a sudden I experienced for the first time that curious sensation of being frozen. I tried to move, but was unable. I cried out for help, hut no one came. My limbs were stiff and rigid, as though I were struck by paralysis, while the pain was excruciating. I fought against unconsciousness, but my last clear recollection of those agonising moments was of an indistinct sinister face peering into mine. All (hen became strangely distorted. The balance of my brain became inverted, and I lost my willpower, being absolutely helpless m the hands of those who directed my movements. I could not hold back, for all my actions were mechanical, obeying those around me. I remember being dressed for the wedding, the journey to the church, my meeting with my future husband—-whose face, however, I was unable afterwards to recall—the service, and the return. Then came a perfect blank.” “And afterwards?”

“ Night had fallen when I returned to my senses, and the strange sensation of intense cold generally left me. I looked around, and to ray amazement saw the pale moon Mgh in the sky. My head was resting upon something hard, which I gradually made out to be a wooden seat. Then, when I sat up, I became aware of the bewildering truth—(hat I was lying upon one of the seats in Hyde Park.” “In Hyde Park! And you had been placed there while in a state of unconsciousness?”

“Yes. Upon my finger I found a wedding ring. Was it possible, I wondered, that I was actually married to some unknown man?”

“You saw nothing of Ashwicke?” “I saw no one except the maid-servant who showed me into the drawing-room, and cannot in the least account for the strange sensation which held me helpless in the hands of my enemies. I saw the man I married at the church, but so mistily that I did not recognise you when we met again.” “But you knew the house in Queen’s Gate Gardens. Did you not afterwards return there and seek an explanation of Tattersett?”

“ On discovering my whereabouts I rose and walked across the Park to Gloucester Square. It was then nearly one o’clock in the morning, but Nora was sitting up in anxiety as to what had become of me. I had, however, taken the ring from my finger, and to her told a fictitious story to accotmt for my tardy return. Two days later I returned to the house to which Tatterselt had invited me, but on inquiry found to my amazement that it was really occupied by a lady named Stentiford. who

was abroad; while the man left in charge; knew nothing whatever either ef the major or of his sister and niece. I told him how I had visited there two days previously, but he laughed incredulously; and when 1 asked for the maid-servant who had admitted me he said that no maid had been left there by Mrs. Steutiford. ■ In prosecution of my inquiries I sought to discover the register of m3' marriage, but, not knowing the parish in which it had taken place, my search at Somerset House was fruitless. They told me that the registers were not made up there until six months or so after the ceremony.” “ You did not apply at Doctors’ Commons?”

1 No,” she responded. “I thought the entry would be-at Somerset House.”

“ What previous knowledge had you at the major?” “He was a friend of Ashwicke’s, who had been introduced to us one night in the stalls at Daly’s. He afterwards dined several times at Gloucester Square.” “But Sir Henry docs not know him.”

“ It was while he was away at the Cape.” Ihc-n you have not the faintest idea of the reason of our extraordinary marriage, darling?” I asked, holding her hand. ‘‘ I have told you all that actually occurred. Can you form no conclusion whatever as to the motive?”

“Absolutely none,” she answered. “I am as utterly in the dark as yourself. I cannot understand why you were selected as my husband.” “ But you do not regret?” I asked, tenderly. “ Regret! No,” she repeated, raising her beautiful face to mine, perfect in its loveliness and purity. “I do not regret now, Richard—because I love you.” And our lips met again in fervent tenderness. “It is still an absolute mystery,” I ob? seived at last. “We know that we are wedded, but there our knowledge ends.” “We have both been victims of a plot,” sho responded “If we could but discern the motive, then we might find some cine to lead us to the truth,” “ But there is a woman called La Gioia,” I said; and, continuing, explained my presence in the park at Whitton and the conversation I had overheard between herself and Tattersett. Her hand, still tn mine, trembled perceptibly, and I saw that I had approached a subject distasteful to her.

“ Yes,” she admitted at last in a hard strange voice, “it is true that he wrote making an appointment to meet me in the park that night. I kept it, because I wished to ascertain the truth regarding my marriage. But he would tell mo nothing. He only urged me to secure my own safety because La Gioia had returned.” “And who is La Gioia?” - “My enemy—my bitterest enemy!” “ Can you tell me nothing else?” I asked in a tone of slight reproach. “I know nothing else. 1 do not know who or what she is, or where she lives. I only know that she is my unseen evil genius.” • “ But you have seen her. She called upon you on that evening at Gloucester Square when she assumed the character of your dressmaker; and a few nights ago she was here—in this house.” “Here?” she echoed in alarm. “'lmpossible !” * Then I related how I ha/d seen her, and how her evil influence had fallen upon me when afterwards I had entered my room. “The thing is actually beyond belief,” she declared. ,“Do you really think you were not mistaken?”

“ Most assuredly I was not. It was the woman who called upon you in London. But you have not told me the reason you were absent from your- room, that night.” She was silent for a few moments thou answered.

“ I met Tattersett. Ho demanded that I should meet him, as he wished to speak with me secretly. I did so.” - “ Why did he wish to see you ?” “In order to prove to me that he had no hand in vhe tragic affair at Whitton. I had suspected all along that he was responsible for the colonel’s death, and my opinion has not altered. I begged him to tell me the reason of the plot against me, the motive of my marriage, and the identity of my husband. But be refused point blank, telling me to ask La Gioia, who knew everything.” “Have you no idea of her whereabouts?” “ None whatever. ”

“ If we could but find her,” I said, “ she might tell us something. Ah 1 if we could but find her!”

My love was trembling. Her heart was filled to overflowing with the mystery of it all. Yet I knew, that she loved me—yes, she loved me. How long we lingered there upon the terrace I know not, out it was late ere we re-entered the drawing-room. Who among those assembled guests would have dreamt the truth! We were man and wife!

As I went upstairs I found a letter lying upon the hall-table in the place where the guests’ letters were placed. Barton had, I suppose, driven into Corsham and brought with him the mail which would in the usual course, have been delivered on the following morning. The note ■ was from Hoefer, a couple of awkwardly scribbled; lines asking me to come and sei him with-! out a moment’s delay. j Eager to hear whether the queer old fel-‘ low had made any discovery, I departed! next morning by the eight 6!clock express' for London, having left a note with Beryl’s maid explaining the cause of my sudden; journey, and soon after eleven was seatedwith the old German in his lofty labora-i tory. The table was, as usual, filled with various contrivances, bottles of liqflid and 1 test-tubes, containing fluids of various hues,, while before him, as I entered, a small tube containing a bright blue liquid was bubbling over the spirit-lamp, the, heat causing the colour gracl#ially to fade. “Ah, my frient,” he cried, with his strong accent, holding out Ms big fat hand encased in a stout leather glove. “I am, glad you have come—very glad. It has been a long seaiv.h, but I have discovered 1 something, after all. You see these?” and he indicated his formidable array of retorts and test-tubes “ Wcl|, I have been investigating at Gloucester Square, and have found the affair much more extraordinary than I believed.”

“ And you have discovered the truth.?” I demanded.

“Yes,” he responded, turning down the, flame of the lamp and bending- attentively to the bubbling fluid from which all colour had disappeared while I had been watching. “ Shall I relate to you the course of rny investigation ” “Do. lam all attention.”

“ Well,” he said, leaning both elbowa upon the table and resting his chin upon his hands, while the tame brown rat ran’ along the table and scrambled into hiaS pocket, “ on that first evening when you; sought my assistance I knew from the re-i mote effects which both of us experienced that the wil influence of that mysterious visitor in black was due to some unknown neurotic poison. It was for that reason that I was enabled to administer an antidote without making an exact Now, as you are well aware, toxicology is a very strange study. Even common table salt is a poison, and has caused death. But my own experiments have proved that, although the various narcotic poisons produce but little local change, their remote effects are very remarkable. Certain sub stances affect certain organs in particular. The remote action of a poison may be said to be due in every instance to its absorption into the veins or the lymphatics; except when there is a direct continuity of effect traceable from the point where the poison was applied to the point where the remote effect is shown. It is remarkable that the agents which most affect the nervous system do not act at all when applied to the brain or the trunks of nerves. Poisonous effects result from, absorption of

the poisoning body, and absorption implies- i solution; the more soluble, therefore, the | compound is, the more speedy are its effects, | Do you follow me?” j j “ Quite clearly.” j “The rapid remote effect produced on | leaving that room made it plain to me that j I must look for some powerful neurotic 1 poison that may be absorbed through the . skin,” he went on, “With this object I searched microscopically various objects within and without the room, but for a long time was unsuccessful, when one morn-, ing I made a discovery that upon the white, porcelain handle of 'the door a little colourless liquid had been applied. Greater part of it had disappeared by constant handling,; but there was still some remaining on the : shaft of the handle, and the microscope: showed distinct prism-shaped crystals. All these I secured, and with them have since been experimenting. I found them to be a more deadly poison than any of the known paralysants or hyposthenisants, with an effect of muscular paralysis very similar to that produced by curare, combined with the stiffness about the neck and inability to move the jaws so apparent in symptoms provoked by strychnia. The unknown substance, a most deadly secret poison, and as I have since proved one of those known to the ancients, had been applied to the door handle on the inside, so that any person in pulling open the door to fjo out must absorb it in sufficient quantity to prove fatal. Indeed, had it not been for the antidote of chlorine and the mixed oxides oi iron which I fortunately hit' upon, death must have ensued in the case of each of us.

“To determine exactly what was the poison used was an almost insurmountable task, for I had never met with the substance before, but after working diligently all this time I found that by treating it sulphuric acid it underwent no change, yet by adding a fragment of bichromate of potass a series of blue, violet, purple, and red tints were produced, very similar to those seen in the tests for strychnia. The same results were" brought about also by peroxide of lead and black oxide of manganese. I dried the skja of a frog and touched it with a drop of solution containing a single one of the tiny crystals, when strong tetanic convulsions ensued, and the animal died in ten seconds. At last, how-ever,-after many other experiments, the idea occurred to me that it was an alkaloid of some plant unknown in modern toxicology. I was, of course, aware of the action of the calabar bean of the West Coast of Africa, the akazga, the datura seeds of India, and such like poisons, but this was certainly none of these. It was a substance terribly deadly—tho only substance that could strike death through the cuticle—utterly' unknown to us, yet the most potent of all secret poisons.” “ And how did you determine it at last?” “By a reference I discovered in an ancient Latin treatise on poisons from the old monastery at Pavia, now in the British Museum. It gave me a clue which ultimately led me to establish it as the alkaloid of the vayana bean. This bean, it appears, was used in the tenth and eleventh centuries by a sect of despotic Arab mystics called the Fatimites, who had made Cairo their capital, and held rule over Syria, as well as the northern coast of Africa. The last Patimito was, at a later date, dethroned by Saladin, conqueror of the Eoords, and who opposed Richard I. of England. The poison, introduced from Egypt into Italy, was known to the old alchemists as the most secret means of ridding one of undesirable acquaintances. Its eSect, it was stated, was tho most curious, of any known drug, because for the time being it completely altered the disposition of the individual and caused him to give way to all sorts of curious notions and delusions, while at the same time he would be entirely obedient to the will of any second person. Afterwards came' fierce delirium, a sensation as though the lower limbs were frozen, complete loss of power, exhaustion, and ' death. But in modern toxicology even the ; name of the vayana was lost. “My first step, therefore, was to seek ' assistance of the great botanist who is ' curator of Kew Gardens, and after con- 1 siderable difficulty and many experiments \ we both arrived at the conclusion that it was the bean of a small and very rare ; plant peculiar to. the oasis of the Ahir, in ! tho south of the Great Sahara. At Kew there was a stunted specimen, but it had . never home fruit; therefore we both ■ searched for any specimen that might exist : in England, We heard of one in the wonderful gardens of La Mortola, near Mentone, and after diligent inquiries discovered ; that a firm of importers in Liverpool had sold a specimen with the beans in pod, which was delivered to a person named Turton, living in Bishop’s Wood road, Highgate, and planted m a small greenhouse . there. I have not been idle,” he added, with a grin. Then, taking from a drawer in tho table before him a photograph, be banded it to me, saying, “ I have been able to obtain this photograph of Mrs. Turton—the lady who purchased the plant in question.” He held it out to me, and in an instant I recognised <ho face. It was that of tho woman who had crept so silently through the rooms at Atworth—La Gioia! I_TO BE CONCLUDED. J ’