In White Raiment.

Pelorus Guardian and Miners' Advocate., Volume 22, Issue 68, 1 September 1911, Page 5

In White Raiment.

(Copyright.) (

By William Le Qi?eux,

oi “WEmo Fia<J«th a Wife," ♦’iVrpte Mi Fra* Linen,” *• Tha D» r of Tempiatioa, ,f Jio.«U SJrod,” ic., &».

PART 19. Briefly, I told him all that had fransiiireJ oa :hat night, and declared that I neegnised her features, whereat he grunted in satisfaction. “Yoa asked me to try to solve the mystery, and I have done so. You will find this woman living at a house called Fairmead, in the road I have indicated. I have not only established the cause of liio phenomena, but I have at the sains time rediscovered the most extraordinary and deadly substance known in toxicology. As far as the present case is concerned, my work is- finished. I have succeeded in making some of the vayana alkaloid. Hero it «s !” and, taking a small yellow glass tube, securely corked and sealed, he handed it to me. In the bottom I saw about half-a-grain of tiny white crystals. I knew now why he was wearing gloves in his labora-

tory. “And have you seen this woman?” I asked the queer old fellow whose careful investigations had been crowned with such success. “How did you know on the following day that it was La Gioia who had coma in the guise of a dressmaker?” j “I have seen her, and I have seen the Flant. It is from one of the beans which secured secretly that I have been able to produce that substance. I knew her name by overhearing a conversation between Miss Wynd and her cousin oa the following morning.” 1 “And the woman is in ignorance that you know the truth?” i “ Entirely. I have finished. It is for you now to act as you think fit.” ; 1 expressed admiration for his marvellous patience and ingenuity in solving the ots- ' tery, and when I left it was with the understanding that if I required his further csisDnco he would willingly render it. I : CHAPTER XXX. “La Gioia.” On the following afternoon, in response to a telegram I had sent to Beryl, she ry companied ms to Highgate to face La Gr A', Now that I had such complete evident ck her attempfc to poison, I did not fear her, but was deleimined to elucidate the mystery. Beryl accompanied me rather reluctantly, declaring that with such power as the 'woman held our lives were not safe. But I determined to take her by surprise, and to risk ail. After leaving Heeler I had .sought an interview with the detect! re ’ Bullcn, and he, by appointment, was in-the vicinity of the house in question, ccompanied by a couple of plain clothes subor iinates.

We stopped our cab in Hampstead umc, and, descending, found that the 'ishops’ Wood road was a semi-circular thoroughfare of substantial detached houses; *hf: gcivdm of each abutting upon a cricket ground in the centre, and each with its usual greenhouse, where geraniums were potted and stored in winter. On entering the quiet, highly respectable crescent, we were not long in discovering a house with the name Fairraead inscribed in gilt letters upon the gate, while a little further along my eyes caught sight of two scavengers diligently sweeping the road, and not far away Bullen himself was walking with his back turned towards me.

On onr summons being responded to, 1 inquired for Mrs. Turton, and we were shown in( o the di a wing-room—a rather severely furnished apartment which ran through into tile greenhouse, wherein stood tho rare plant. Hoefer had described it minutelv, and while we waited we both peered into the greenhouse and examined it. "The plant standing in the full sunlight was about tjvo feet high, with broad spreading leaves of a rich dark green and grew in an ordinary flower-pot. Half-hidden by the leaves. Just £ls Hoefer had said, we saw some small green pods, long and narrow—the pods of the fatal vayana. Ere wo had time to exchange words the door of the room opened, and there stood before us the tall dark-robed figure fit " La Qioia.” Her hard face, pale and expsctant, showed in tho full light to be that of a woman of perhaps forty, with dark hair, ikeen, swift eyes, thin checks,, and bony features —a countenance not exactly ugly, but rather that of a woman whose beauty bad prematurely faded owing to- the heavy cares, upon hep T was the first to address her, saying: . | “I think, madam, you are sufficiently] well acq tainted with both of us not to. needi any formal introduction.” 1 Her brow contracted, and her lips stood apart. \Then, without hesitation, I told her' mr name, and that of my companion, j while the light died from her careworn face,] swks she stood motionless as one petrified. i> •'We have come here, to you, to seek 1 fj*» truth of the conspiracy against us—the plot in which you yourself have taken part. Vfa demand to know the reason of the weret attempts you have made upon the Uvrs of both of us.” “ 1 don’t understand you,” she answered with'hauteur. “To deny it is useless, 1 I said determinedly. “ The insidious poison you have rwed is the vayana, and the only specimen ion England bearing fruit is standing there in your greenhouse.” And as I uttered those words I closed the door leading beyond, »nd, locking it, placed tho key in my pocket. Her teeth were firmly set. She glanced «t me, and tried to deny my allegation, but to utterly was she taken aback by my sudden denunciation that words failed her. A moment later, however, taking several paces forward to where we stood, she cried, with a sudden (£itbursb of uncontrollable anger : “ You—Beryl Wynd—l hate you ! i swore that you should die—and you shall—you shall!” But I stepped between thorn, firm and deteirained. I saw that this woman was a veritable virago, and that now we bad cornered her so neatly she was capable of any crime. “I demand to know the truth!” ... said, in a hard, distinct voice. “You will know nothing from me,” she snarled. “That woman has betrayed mol'’ she aided, indicating Beryl. “Your evil deeds alone have betrayed vou,” I responded, “ and if yon decline to tell mo anything of your own free will, then perhaps you will make a statement to tho police, when put upon your trial for attempted murder.” “ My trial!” she gasped, turning pale again. “You think to frighten me into telling you something—eh?” she laughed. “ Ah! you do not know me!” ‘*l know you sufficiently well to be aware that you are a clever and ing ’ous woman,” I replied “And in this affair I entertain a belief that our interests may, after all, be mutual.” “How?” . “Tattcrsett is your enemy, as ho is «nra ” It was a wild shot, but 1 rccoitetedhis words that I'had overheard in the ask at Whitton. “There has been a conSalrmcy against myself and this lady here, wko i» *O7 i -Your wife ! she gasped. *1 have spoken the truth, I said. 1 MB fa era to learn 'he details frmn yon. If,, m di* baud, you prefer to preserve j

the sscret of your accomplices, I shall demvnl your arrest without delay.” She was silent. Then, after further decorations of ignorance, she was driven to desperation by my threats of arrest, and at last said in a hard, husky voice .- “ I must first tell you who and what I am. My rather was an English merchant named Turton who lived in Palermo, and my mother Ita?ian. Fifteen years ago I was a popular dancer known throughout Italv a* ‘La G tola.’ While engaged at La Sea!a Theatre in Milan I met an Englishman nrat'd Ashwlck-; ” “ Ashwieko I” I exclaimed.

“ Not the man v horn you know as Tattersett, but another,” she responded. “He was interested in the occult sciences, apparently wealthy and much enamoured of me. In ttc six months of our courtship I grew to love him madly, and the result was that we were married at the Municipal" in Milan, which stands exactly opposite lire entrance to the theatre. A month afterwords, however, he decamped with my jewels and the whole of the money I had raved, leaving behind him as his only personal possessions a box containing some rar- old vellum books which he had purchased somewhere down in the old Tuscan towns, and of which 1m had been extremely careful. At first I could not believe that ho could have treated me thus, after all his profession of love, but as the weeks passed and he did not return I slowly realised the truth that I had been duped and deserted. It was then that I made a vow of revenge. “ Ten endless years passed, and my personal beauty having faded, I was compelled to remain ou the stags, accepting menial parts and struggling for bread until, by the death of a cousin, I found myself with sufficient to live upon. Though I had no clue as to who my husband was beyond a name, which had most probably been assumed, I nevertheless treasured' his' books, feeling vaguely that some day they might give me a clue. In those years that went by I spent days and days deciphering the old black letters and translating from the, Latin and Italian. They were nearly all works dealing with the ancient practice of rpedicine, but one there was which dealt with secret poisons. I have it here,” and, unlocking a drawer in a rosewood cabinet, she took therefrom a big leather-covered tome, written in Latin upon vellum. There was an old rusted lock of Florentine workmanship upon it, and the leather was wormeaten and tattered.

“ Th : s contains the secret of the vayana,” she went on, opening the ponderous tome before mo upon the table. “I discovered there that the poison was the only one impossible of detection, and then it occurred to ma to prepare it and with it strike revenge. Well, although I had been in London a dozen times in search of the man I had cnce loved, I came again and settled down here, detc -mined to spare no effort to discover him. Through four whole years 5 sought him diligently, when at last I ■.7: s successful. I discovered who and what hs was/' “ Who was he?” I inquired. “ The man you know as Major Tattersett. His real name is Ashwicks.” “ Tattersett I” gasped Beryl. “And he is your husband?” “Most certainly,” she responded. “I watched him diligently for' more than twelve months, and discovered that his career had been a most extraordinary one, and that he was in association with a man named Graham—who sometimes also called himself Ashwicke—and who was one of the most expert and ingenious forgers ever known. Graham w r as a continental swindler whom the police had for years been endeavouring to arrest, while the man who was my husband was known in criminal circles as 'The Major,’ Their operations in England, Belgium, and America were on a most extensive scale, and in the past eight years or so they have amassed a large fortune, and have succeeded in entering a very respectable circle of society. While keeping watch npon my husband’s movements I fcuiid that he, one evening a few months ago, went down to Hounslow, and unobserved hy him I travelled by the same train. I followed him to Whittnn, and hatched him meet clandestinely a lady who was one of the guests.” “It was myself !” Beryl exclaimed, standing utterly dumbfounded by these revelations.

“ Yes,” the woman went on. “ I was present at your meeting, although not sufficiently near to-overhear your conversation. By your manner, however. I felt confident that you were lovers, and then a fiendish suggestion—one that I now deeply regret—occurred to me—namely, to kill" you both by secret means. With that object I went to the small rustic bridge by the lake, over which I knew you must pass on your return to the house, both of you having crossed it on your way there, aiid upon the handrail I placed the poison I had prepared. I knew that if you placed yom hand upon the rail ihe "poison would at once be absoibed through the skin, and must prove fatal. My calculations were, however, incorrect, for an innocent nun fell victim. 00-nre’ Chetwode came down that path, acd. unconsciously grasping the rail, receive' the sting of death, while you and your companion returned by a circuitous route, _and did not therefore discover him ’’

“ And is that really the true story of the colonels death?” I asked blankly. “ Yes,” she answered, her chin upon her breast. “Yon denounce mo. lam a murderess—a nun.-cress I”

There was r long and awkward pause. “ And can you tell us nothing of our mysterious union and its motive?” I asked her.

“Nothing!” she responded, shaking her head. “ I would U,’ l you all, if I knew, for you, like m-srlf, have fallen victims in the hands of 'Tattcrsett and Graham. Only they themselves know- the truth. After the" tragedy at ’ cv ' , ,ton, I traced Beryl Wynd to Gloncesto" Square, and, still believing her to b"ve supplanted me in mv husband's affections, called there in the guise of a dressmaker, and while your wife was absent from the room managed to write a rep'y to a fictitious message I had brought her from Graham. I placed the liquid upon the porcelain handle of'the door on the inside, so that a person on entering would experience no ill-effect, but on pulling open tho door to leave would receive the full strength of tho deadly vayana. This again proved ineffectual ; therefore, ascertaining that Graham intended' to visit Atworth, I entered there and placed the terrible alkaloid on certain objects in your wife’s room, upon her waistbelt, and in tho room that had been occupied by him on a previous visit, but which proved to he then occupied by yourself.”

“ And that accounts for the mysterious attacks which we both experienced !” I observed, amazed at her confession. “Yes,” she replied, "I intended to commit murder. I was unaware that Beryl «ras your wife, and 1 have committed an error" which I shall regret through all my life. I can only ask your forgiveness—if you n ally can forgive.” y “I have not yet learnt the whole facts—the motive of our marriage,” I answered. “ Gan you direct us to either of the men?” She paused. Then at last answered ; “ Graham, or the man you know as Ashwicke, is here in this house. lie called upon me by appointment this afternoon. If you so desir-', I will tell my servant to ask him in.” “But before doing so,” cried Beryl excitedly, “let me first explain my own position. I, too, am not altogether blameless. The story of my parentage as I have given it to you, Richard, is a fictitious one - I never knew my parents. My earliest recollections were of the Convent of the Sucre Ccßiir at Brunoy, near I’a.ris; where 1 spent fourteen’years, having os companion during (lie latter seven wars No-i Findlay, the daughter of a Scotr-h ironmaster. <»f rny own parents the Bisters decland they knew ftftthiiiii, and as i grew up they qunsUualv

tried to persuade me to take the veil. IN ora, my best friend, left the convent, returned to England, and two years afterwards mar ried Sir Henry; whereupon she generously offered me a place in her house as companion. She is no relation, but, knowing my susceptibilities, and in order that I should not bs looked upon as a paid companion, she gave out that we were cousins. Hence I was accepted as such everywhere. “With Nora I had a pleasant, careless life, until about two years ago I met the major, unknown to Nora, and afterwards became ou friendly terms with a young man —an officer in the Guards—who was h s friend. Tattersett won a large sum from him at cards; and then I saw to my dismay that he had been attracted only by the mild flirtation I- fiad carried on with him, and that he had p’ayed in order to please me. The major increased my dismay by telling mo that this young man was the son of *i certain woman who was his bitterest enemy —the Italian woman called La Gioia —and that she would seek a terrible revenge upon us both. This was to frighten mo. My am having been spent in the convent, I know very little of (he ways of the world; yet I soon saw sufficient of both to know hit Tattersett was an expert forger, and that his accomplice Graham was a clover Continental thief, whom the police had -ong been wanting. How I called at the House in Queen’s Gate Gardens, and afterwards lost control over my own actions, I have already explained. Tho motive of our marriage is a.n absolute enigma.” She stood before me white-faced and rigid. “It is fortunate that Graham is here. Shall we .seek tho truth from him?” 1 asked. “Yes,” she responded. “Demand from him the reason of our mysterious union. La Gioia touched tho bell, gave an order to the servant, and after a few moments of dead silence Graham stood in the doorway.

CHAPTER XXXI. Conclusion.

“You!” gasped the man, haiifcv in alarm.

“Yes,” I said. “Enter, Mr. Graham. We wish to speak with you.” ‘■You've betrayed me—curse youj” he cried, turning upon La Gioia. “you’ve •told them the truth!” The colour had died from his face, mid he looked as gray p”i aged as on the first occasion when we had met and hj had tempted me “We desire the truth from your own lips,” I said determinedly. “I am not here without piecautions. The house is surrounded by police, and they will enter .at ,a sign from me, if you refuse an explanation —the truth, mind. If you lie, you will both be arrested.” “I know nothing,” he declared, his countenance dark and sullen. He made a slight instinctive movement towards his pocket, and I knew that a revolver was there. “ You know the reason of our marriage,” I said quickly. “ What was it?” “Speak!” urged La Gioia. “You cxi only save yourself by telling the truth.” “ Save myseif I” he cried in a tone of defiance. “You wish to force me to confession—you and this'woman La Gioia I You've acted cleverly. When she invited me here this afternoon I did not dream that she had outwitted me.”

The woman had, however, made the appointment in ignorance of our intentions, therefore she must have had some other motive. But ho was entrapped, and saw no way of escape. “I have worked diligently all these months, and have solved the mystery of what you really are,” I said. “Then that’s sufficient for you, I suppose,” and his thin bps snapped together. “ No, it is not sufficient. To atto. .p 'o conceal anything further is useless, f it ■ sire from you a statement of th ’kjii truth.” “And condemn xnvself?”

“You will not condemn yourself if you are perfectly frank wilh us,” I assured him There wits a long si* His small eyes darted an evil look >t L" Gtoia, who stood near lit \ erect ai d dump' ant. Buddenhr he answered, in -vv— hard and unnatural ;

“ If you know all, as you say, there is little need to say much about my own association with Tattcrsett Of (ho latter, (hi; police art well aware that he is one of (he most expert forgers in Europe. It was he and I who obtained BGO,OOO from the Credit Lyonnais in Bordeaux, and who, among other little matters of business, tricked Parr’s for twenty thousand. At Scotland Yard they have all along suspected us, but have never obtained sufficient evidence to justify arrest. We took very good care of that, for after ten years’ partnership we were not likely to blunder.” He spoke bratggingly, for all thieves seem proud of the "extent of their frauds. “ But you want to know about your marriage—eh?”, hu went on. “Well, to tell the”truth, it happened like this. The major, who had dabbled in the by-ways of chemistry as a toxicologist, held the secret of a certain most (Lully poison—one that was used bv the ancients a thousand years ago—and conceived by its means a gigantic plan of defrauding life insurance companies. About that time he. accidentally met Miss Wynd, and cultivated her acquaintance because, being extremely handsome, she would be useful as a decoy. The secret marriage was accomplished, but just as the elaborate plan was to be put into operation he made an astounding discovery.” What was the reason of the marriage?” I inquned breathlessly. He paused in hesitation, “ Because it was essential that in close association with us we should have a doctor of reputation, able to assist where necessary and give death certificates for production to the various life insurance companies. You were known to us by repute as a clever but impecunious man ; therefore, it was decided that you should become our accomplice. With that object Tattcrsett, accompanied by a young woman whom he paid to represent herself as Beryl Wynd, went to Doctor’s Commons and petitioned for a special license, possession was obtained of tho house in Queen’s Gate Gardens, which I had occupied two years previously under the name of Ashwickc —for we used each other's names just as circumstances required —-paying the caretaker a 810 note, and when all was in readiness you were called and bribed to marry Bcrvl, who was already there, rendered helpless with unbalanced brain by the deadly vayana. I posed, as you will remember, as Wyndham Wynd, father of fha young lady, and after the marriage, in order to entrap you into becoming our accomplice, tempted you to take her life. You refused, therefore you also feU a victim to a cigarette steepid in a decoction of curare, handed” you by tho major, and were sent out of the country, it being our intention on your return to threaten you with being a party to a frau-, dulent marriage, and thus compel you to become our accomplice.” “ But this paper which I found beneath her pillow ?” And I took from my pocket a sheet of paper with the name of La Gioia upon it. “it is a note I sent to her on the day before her visit to Queen’s Gate Gardens >n order to induce her to come and consult with me. She had evidently carried it in her pocket.” “And this photograph?” I asked, showing him the picture I had found concealed in the colonel’s study. “ Wo took that picture of her as she lav apparently dead for production afterwanfs to the life insurance company. The colonel, who was'a friend of Tattersett’s, must l ave found it in the latter’s rooms and secured it. It was only because two days after toe marriage Sir Henry’s wife overheard a conversation between myself ami Tattcrsett, in which you were mentioned, that we were prevented from making our gigantic coup against the life offices. While Beryl was asleep her ladyship found the wedding ring. Th; n, knowing vmir address-., for she 1c I seep you with Dr. Raymond, she sought your acquaintance on your return, and by

lucremous questioning became half convincid that you were actually Beryl’s husband. Your friend Raymond was slightly acquainted with her, and had been introduced to Beryl some months before.” “But I cannot see why I should have been specially chosen as victim of this extraordinary’plot,” my wife exclaimed, her arm Jinked in mine. “You say that Tattersett made a discovery which caused Idm to-alter his plans. What was it?” “ He discovered a few hours after your marriage that you were his daughter!” “ His daughter—the daughter of that man!” she cried. •

“Yes,” he answered seriously. “Ho did not, however, know it until, while you were lying insensible after the marriage, ho discovered on your chest the tattoo mark of the three hearts, which he himself bad placed there years before. Then, overcome by remorse, he administered an antidote, placed you upon a seat in Hyde Park, and watched until you recovered consciousness and returned to Gloucester Square. It had before been arranged that an insurance already effected upon you should be claimed. The truth is,” he went on, “ that Wyndham Ashwicke, alias Major Tattersett, first married in York the daughter of a cavairy officer, and by her you were born. A year afterwards, however, they separated, your mother died, and you were placed in tho convent at Brunoy under the name of Wynd, tvhile your father plunged into a life of dissipation on the Continent which ended in the marriage with this lady, then known as La Gioia.” “ It seems incredible I” my love declared. “ I cannot believe it 1” “ But Nora introduced you as Feo Ashwicke on the first occasion we met after our marriage,” I remarked. “ I well remember it. Nora must have discovered the secret of my birth, although when I questioned Her after your departure she declared that she had only bestowed a fictitious name upon the as a joke.” “ Yet Ashwicke was your actual name,” I observed. “ You will find the register of your birth in York,” interposed Graham. “ I have told you the truth.” “ I will hear it from my father’s own lips,” she said. “Alas!” the gray-faced man answered very gravely, “that is impossible. Youi father is dead.” “ Dead I” I echoed. “ Tattersett dead ?” “ Yes. He was found lifeless in his rooms in Piccadilly East yesterday' afternoon. His man called me, and I discovered upon the table a tiny tube containing some crystals of tho secret vayana. He had evidently touched them accidentally with his fingers, and the result was fatal. The police and doctor believe it due to natural causes, as I secured the tube and destroyed it before their arrival. The news of the discovery is in flu evening’s papers-,” and, taking a copy of the “Globe” from his pocket, he handed it to me, indicating the paragraph. I read the four bare lines aloud, both my well-beloved and the dead man’s widow standing in rigid silence.

Tlia elucidation of the bewilderin'! mystery and its tragic denouement held us speechless. It staggered belief. My er-lanaticn" to B alien, or our subsequent c ijkersation, need not be here recounted. Suffice it to say that from that moment when the truth became apparent the major’s widow, who had once sought tn take both our lives, became our firmest and most intimate friend ; while Graham, having expressed regret at his association in the conspiracy, and declared his intention of leading an honest Ufa in future, was allowed to escape abroad, where he still remains. And Beryl? She is my wife. Ah! that small word, which is so synenymnus of peace and happiness! Several years have passed, and I have risen rapidly in mw profess'on, far above my deserts, I fear, let we are still lovers. Wc are often visitors at Atworth and at Gloucester Square, while there is rfio more welcome guest at our own table-in Harley street than the evcr-erratic Bob Raymond. Tho original copy of the ponderous ancient Florentine treatise with its rusty locks, which the major left in possess'd) of La Gioia, has been presented by the latter to the Bodleian Library at Oxford, where it can now be seen, while Hoefrs re-discovery of the vayana having opened up an entirely new field to toxicologists, the deadly vegetable, like strychnine and atropia, is to-day used as one of the most powerful and valuable, medicines, _ many lives being saved yearly by its administration in infinitesimal doses. ■

All the bitterness of the past has faded. What more need I say? To-night as I sit here in my consultingroom, writing down this strange history for you, my friendly reader, my wife lingers beside me, sweet and smiling in white raiment, a dead-white dress that reminds me vividly of that July day long ago when we first met within the church of St. Ann’s, Wilton Place, while .at her throat is that quaint little charm, the note of interrogation set with diamonds, s, relic of her illfated mother. She has bent, and hissing me tenderly upon the brow, has whispered into my ear that no man and wife in all the world are half so happy as ourselves. THE END.