THE LADY IN THE BLACK MASK.

Sun (Christchurch), Volume 1, Issue 14, 21 February 1914, Page 2

THE LADY IN THE BLACK MASK.

, [COPYRIGHT.] CHIEF CHARACTERS IN THE STORY. RUTH TRINGHAM, lady's niaid to Damia Marsh, is seen at the Diana Theatre with her fiance, Clement Singleton. During the progress of a.n Indian play that contains a tragedy, she is attracted by a tall dark man in a box who is following the murder scene with unusual intensity. Ruth is persuaded by Damia Marsh to impersonate her at .a masked ball dt Lady Woodmason 's house, where she meets the man she saw at the theatre. He mistakes her for Damia: —'' I have doubled the stakes —-and I shall win,'' ■■ ... win," he whispers. On her return home she finds Damia in bed and DANIEL YERINDER, her guardian, in the library, 1 ' stabbed in the neck,'' just like the man in the play." CHAPTER ll.—Continued. "Well—what do you make of it?" asked the doctor,. The inspector stood slowly rubbing his hand over; his chin, and looking at the floor. After a moment of dead silence he raised his head, and answered the other question. "I make this of it: that the murder was done by Someone in the house.,. Concerning that there is not the faintest shadow of doubts'' "Why do you sajf that?" asked:Damia, slowly. "Because, Miss Marsh, I have questioned the servants very carefully, and, even allowing for possible Carelessness, there is not a bolt or bar or lock anywhere but of place —and not a mark on any accessible window by which anyone could have entered. The back door of the house, which leads, as you know, to a mews, was locked and the key in>.the lock. Whoever killed Mr Verinder is probably in the house at the present moment." Tor the life of her Ruth could" not resist turning her eyes for a moment upon Damia; Damia was staring at the inspector. 1 There was a strange look in her f ace —half terror; half wonder. It seemed quite a long time before the silence in the room was broken; and then it was the doctor who spoke. ; "That's a very horrible idea," he said, "and I should imagine an incredible one. \ You've got to have a inotive, and all that sort of thing. Do you suspect "one of the servants?" "Not necessarily," said the other. "For the 'matter of that, it is my business to suspect every one. What was .this lady doing last night?" The man asked the question sharply, and yet with no "suspicion in his voice; it was merely his manner that seemed so horrible. And he pointed straight at Ruth. '

"This lady is my companion and friend," said Damia, ~ promptly. ' 1 She was, of course, in bed —hours before. -You were in bed, Ruth, dear—wcren't you?" • The room seemed to be spinning rpund and round, and> Ruth to' be; whirling with it. She 1 raised her eyes to' those of'the man who questioned'her; and once; again it was on the very tip of her tongue to blurt out the whole thing, and put an. end to the intolerable strain of it. Instead of that, she found herself answering mechanically, iin a voice that was not "in the least like her'own:

"Yep—of: course I was in bed." ■ "At What time did you go to bed?" asked the man. Again Damia answered. '' She went to lied directly I started to Lady Woodmason's —didn't you?" . "I would prefer the Jady to .answer for herself,", said the a little sharply. And th<#i to Ruth: "I can assuresourMiss, -that you have nothing to be afraid of." . - "I went tp bed at twelve o'clock —when Miss Marsh went out," Said Ruth,' in a faint voice, and quite unable to raise her eyes to look at the man. She became conscious that he was regarding her intently, and .as quite a new element in the story. . ''And you.heard nothing during the night?" She hesitated again; she realised the mountain of lies she was already beginning to build up against herself. "I heard nothing at all," she answered at last. "You appeared to hesitate," said the man quickly. J 'Are you quite.sure you heard nothing?" "I heard nothing at all," said Ruth, in a voice but little more than a whisper. There was a long silence —a silence which seemed US though it would never end. It was broken at last

by the inspector. / "Will you tv.ll me what is your exact position in this house, mics—l did not quite get your name?" "My name is Ruth Tringham. lam a companion to Miss Marsh. Mr Verinder was good enough to plaee me in that position; he was very kind to me." Ruth answered as though she spoke a lesson.. . ' 1 Where is your room situated, Miss Tringham?" "Close to Damia's—Miss 'Marsh's. There is a little dressing-room between." "Did you see Mr Verinder last night?"

Again that momentary hesitation; the inspector's brows contracted in a puzzled way. ' "I —I heard his voice-—speaking to Miss Marsh,'' said Ruth. There was a sudden sound of voices in the hall; then the door was quickly opened, and a man came in. Ruth caught her breath as she recognised the man with the thin black moustache who had been in the theatre the night before, and who had sat beside her at the dance, and had spoken to hfer as Damia. "What do you want, sir?" asked the inspector sharply. '' I've only just heard about it,'' exclaimed the man agitatedly. And then, turning to Damia, he stretched out a hand to her. "My dearest girl—this must be horrible for you. And to think that we met only a few hours ago." Damia answered nothing; she was suddenly very watchful. She turned her eyes quickly, and glanced at Ruth; this was something upon which she had not counted. "You say you met this lady only a few hours since?" said the inspector. "Yes—at Lady Woodmason's," answered the other quickly. "My name ii? Morris Loader, and I was a friend of poor Daniel Verinder. I sat out a dance with this lady'—he indicated Damia—' 1 at about three o 'clock this morning., I sent for her motor brougham, and saw her into it." CHAPTER 111. THE SUSPECT. x What further questioning took place brought the small amount of information to be gained simply to this: that between the hours of midnight and three o'clock in the morning Daniel Verinder had been don'e to death in his own library, and apparently by someone actually in the house. And the only persons in the house were the servants and Miss Ruth Tringham. ~ As for the question of motive, even the inspector confessed that there appeared to be none. The condition of the room and the fact that papers were scattered all over it.might suggest anything or nothing; it might be merely a ruse on the part of the murderer to suggest robbery 1 , when no robbery had taken place. A further investigation seemed to prove that even the theory of robbery was absurd, because a considerable sum in ready money in the safe had remained untouched. The little conference broke up. After the police and medical examination the*. body of Verinder had. been decently laid out in hiss ropm.;, the doctor had gone away, and the house had resumed almost its normal condition. Voices and footsteps'weie hushed; but, for the rest, there was nothing to indicate that anything extraordinary had taken place within the past few hours. v.. ,

Damia Marsh had gone straight back to her room, and had had some breakfast taken to her there. Ruth, creeping in with the faint hope that the girl .would at least talk over that extraordinary business with her, was- petulantly repulsed; Damia was too ill and frightened and worried to talk about the dreadful thing with ! apyohe. Ruth crept; away tolier own room, too sick at heart to eat or to do anything, else. At about eleven o 'clock a brougham drew up at the door, and Lady a state of violent agitation, bustled into the house > and demanded to know where Damia was. As Damia-refused to come down, tlie old la,dy had perforce to mount-the stairs, which she did, talking hard all the way, and especially begging that she might not be taken anywhere near the body. After hastily kissing her niece, Lady Woodmason plumped down in a chair, and rattled off at a great rate, without waiting for an jtnswer to any single question. r /' > "Now who do you think can have done it? I don't suppose the man had an ernrny in the world, though goodness knows he was secretive enough about (everything. It looks to me, my dear, although whoever think sof I wonder what in the world whoever it was

did it watched you out of the house, knowing quite well that you wouldn't be baelc until late. Do you wanted to kill the man for? And Ido hope that whatever happens we shan't have too much of it in the newspapers —and, above all, that they won't drag my name into it. In these days they positively snapshot you in the street, with one leg iip as you walk — just for all the world like a chicken. I wonder if you would like to come, back with ir\q now out of .this dreadful house —eh?"

"I may come round to you later in the day," said Damia. "I feel too upset even to move at the present moment. I think I'll stay here. I'll telephone presently whether I 'll come round or not." " Please yourself,'' said the old lady, getting to her feet. "I know that nothing would induce me to atop in the house five'minutes; I should expect to be murdered myself. Good-bye, my dear —and I shall positively .expect to see you later in the day." She peeked at Damia's cheek again, and went out of the room, and out of the house. Damia, lying very still, heard the hall door close, and then the carriage drive away; she sat up in bed. Very cautiously and quietly she slipped to the floor, pulled a dressing-gown over her shoulders, and went to the door of the room. She opened the door, and looked out; there was no one about. She came back into the room, sat down before her writing-table, and took the receiver off the telephone that stood there. After a moment, with a glance behind her, she literally whispered a number as the operator spoke; murmured it just a little louder at the girl's request; and then sat beating her fingers* softly on the table, impatient for the answer. '' There is no reply.." "Oh, ring them again; there must be someone there. I tell you I must have them." "I can't do more than ring," came the impatient answer. Damia waited there for nearly five minutes; the result was the same. Finally, with a sigh, she hung up the receiver, flung herself on the bed again, and burst into a passion of tears, • • • It was near to midday .when a maid, coming up the stairs, met Ruth going down, and, evidently in search for her, stopped. . "Someone is asking for you on,the telephone, miss," said the girl. . . This was another telephone in a small room at the end of the hall; Ruth, wondering a little, thanked the girl, and went down to the room; closing the door as she went in. The receiver was lying on the table; she took it up, and spoke in a faint voice into it. "Who is it, please?"

"Is that you, Ruth?" answered a cheery voice. "I thought you were never coming. Yes —it's Clement — good old Olem. Awful cheelc. on my part to ring you up; but I'm so excited I feel that I must speak to you. Is there any chance of your getting out this morning and meeting me. I simply must see you." "My darling boy," said Ruth a' little brokenly, "that's just how I feel myself. If I don't see you I think that T shall go mad. Nb; re, I can't explainbut I'll come out —and I'll meet'yOiVanywhere you like. Lunch? That will be splendid; YesI—l* 1 —I* know the place; I'll be there at one o'clock. 'Gftti l-bye/ don't fail me.

Good-bye!" - By all the rules of her life Ruth should properly have gone to Damia> arid* 1 fjewnission to be allowed to go out; but she detmsned that she would not do tfcat. Everything wal* changed now; it might happen that if she went away;, she would never come back. The horror of this thing that seemed to be thrusting itself upon her was proving almost too much for her strength. She determined that she would go out of the house —and tfust everything else to change. She went back to her put on her outdoor things —just the mourning she had worn for her father, and which was now growing a little shabby even with all the care she bestowed upon «it. She opened the outer door, and stepped out into the square. As she started to walk away-,her quick eyes noticed a matf who. was lounging against the railings of the central garden with a cigarette'.in his mouth. That r.ian, without seeming to look >atohf r, suddenly moved away from the railings and set off after her.

Ruth felt at first that this mtlst be a mere coincidence; the man had simply to move as she left the house. She increased h'er pacife a little, and the man increased his; she stopped suddenly to look at a shop window; and the man stooped also, to strike a match and apply it to his eigarejjte. When, presently, Ruth hailed an omnibus, and eMmbed to the top of it, it was a little disconcerting itto find that the man had

clinibed up after her, and had seated himself a couple of seats behind.

"So I'm being watched,'' thought Ruth. ''They don't mean to let me out of their sight." Ruth, was so delighted to see Clement Singleton, standing outside th.er door of the restaurant, beaming at her, that she quite forgot all about the man who had followed her; she. went into the place with Clement, feeling radiantly happy for the first time since she had parted with him the night before. They found a table in the corner, and sat down. Ruth peeled off her gloves, while Clement consulted a waiter.

And then, raising her eyes, and happening to look into a mirror opposite, she saw the reflection of the man who had followed. her, and whom she believed she had left on the top of the omnibus. He hp,d just given an order to a waiter, and his eyes met hers for but a flash in the mirror, and then were lowered again. • All the brightness had gone out of her day; everything flashed back upon her instantly. "I say, you're looking frightfully white and tired,'' said Clement. "Anything the matter?" "Yes, everything is the matter," she whispered, with the tears starting to her eyes. i ' I 'm« going to tell you all about it presently; but just now I am very hungry, and, bad as it all is, I really think I could eat something. I've had no breakfast. Clement's eyebrows; puckered with consternation; when the waiter brought the meal he watched Ruth making a pretence of eating, and finally giving it up, he fiiledi her glass with wine, and was glad to see that as she drank a little of it the colour began to come back into her cheeks. • ' , .

'' If you don't eat your lunch, Clem, and stop looking at me as though you wanted to eat me, I shall simply burst into tears, and make an utter fool of myself," she said at last, with a laugh. "I know you must be hungry, and even if I can't eat anything myself, it will do me good to see you do it." The young man was really hungry; he set to work immediately at a great rate, only pausing to glance up now and then at the girl. When presently he laid down his knife and fork, she leant across the tatile, and spoke to him in a low tone. "Clem, dear, have you seen the newspaper this morning?" ; "Yes, of course I have," he answered. "I'm forgetting: there wouldn't be tanything in the morning,papers. There'll be plenty in the afternoon." At that moment the door of the restaurant was thrust open, and an urchin came in with ■ a sheaf of newspapers, and with a placard flapping against his knees. Ruth and the young man turned their eyes towards the boy at the same moment, and although he was summarily ejected by an indignant waiter, they had had time to see what was printed upon the bill he carried: "TERRIBLE MURDER IN KENSINGTON." "That murder was at the house in which I live," whispered Ruth, with her eyes upon his. "Please try and look as though I were telling you something quite ordinary; I'll explain the reason afterwards." , Clement, endeavoured to conceal his astonishment, and in the effort contrived to look more perplexed than ever; and Ruth continued her story; '' Do you remember taking me home last night, after the theatre, in a taxieab, and leaving me at the door of the house?'' she asked. "And do you remember wkat the,time was," "Yqg, about halfrpast eleven; or it might have been five-and-twenty to twelve,'' he answered promptly. :'' "At twelve Clem, 1 went out again, and I did not get; back until three o'clock this morning. l And between those- ; time& Mr Verinder: was murdered in his library—stabbed just like the man we saw slabbed in the play. Please listen to me patiently, dear, and I will tell you all about it, and try to make you,understand. ''

So, whilst he sat and watched her, she told him the whole story of all that had happened since they had at, the door of the house in Umber Square—giving him, the whole thing from beginning to end—and going back over it sometimes, to mjake some special point niore clear. | "It was all done in fun, Clem—and do"ne to help the woman who was my friend and whom I loved'. I meant to have told you all about it kfterwards; I never expected..to have to tellryou like this. And, oh, Clem, I'm dreadfully frightened.''

"But that's all' nonsense," he exclaimed indigInantly. "At the time the murder was committed you

BY rm &ALL6INI oxh

were not even in' the house. What have you got to bo frightened about?" "Don't you see, my dear boy, that I was in tho house —so far as anyone knows. Everyone thinks tl:cy saw Miss Damia Marsh go «out of the place; v/as recognised at the dance; a man who sat.out one d-an-o with her actually told the inspector this morniv.g that he saw her there. The humble little companion eiiWo home in a taxi-cab at half-past eleven, and never went out again; that's the story everyone believes. The humble little companion wasapparently in the hst'.se when the murder was committed; and they've b n gun to suspect her: already;" • ' . . • Good Lord! you're letting yoT>r imagination *»?» away with you,'' exclaimed Clement, with a lw£h. "This business has frightened you badly; but vilt, in the world is going to suspect you. Eat your lunch, and drink your wine—you're safe enough." "Clement," said the girl seriously, laying a hand on his as it rested on the table, "will you sit quite and not move? Will you keep your eyes on my fa*#', and look nowhere else? That's right. Now, at tr*e third table from the window on the other side of the room ,a man is sitting —a elean-shavtn, thin jian in a grey suit. Don't move your eves, and don't lock at him. i That man was standing outside the house whua I came out to. meet you; he followed me all the v.uyv here; :he is waiting now to follow me back again, or wherever else I may happen to go." "I'll soon settle his business," exclaimed Clement wrathfully, making a- movement to .rife; 11 Don't be silly " Ruth cried sharply in a whisper; "The man is a police officer." Clement sat back in his chair with a gasp. He tried rigidly to keep his eyes away from the man seated at the other side of the room, but it was a difficult matter; "This is. monstrous." he whispered at'last, "simply absurd. In any ease what motive "fluid they suggest against you?" :r ' • " They might-be able to prove a very, good motive,'' said Ruth slowly. "I had good mi son to hate Daniel Verinder, although God knows I-did not hate him at all. I only discovered it all a little time back, and Daniel Verinder pleaded it as an excuse for taking me into his house and placing me with his ward. In a big business transaction he pfove I himself to. be stronger than my father, and ruined him. Be. said it was only business; after my father's death Tfe sought me out, and insisted on helping me. That i; is, : the .motive they might urge." xo Wuvy "But what are you going/<t& 'easted Clement. "I don't know, I ha^e*my mind,*-' she answered. .; "The net-is oloSing'aibout me, and I confess that I am afraid. But theiv will come some chance for me —some unexpected loophole, of escape See, the gentleman in charge of me is. paying his bill, * probably because he thinks you will pay ours, and we shall slip away. I hope y<ju don.'t mind being-followed; in the streets," she added, a littler bitterly. "He won't follow us very far," said Clement, with' a grim laugh. "I'm going to give him the! "slip." ! He beckoned to the waiter, and-xi kid the man. ; AS they walked past the table at which, the watcher was 1 seated the latter put on his hat, and rose'quietly to his" feet. The young couple passed oi«t and r walked the', length, of the street, and came into a quieter one; and there, by great good luck, a taxi-cab was going slowly along with its flag up. Clement" glanced over his? shoulder, and saw that the man . who ..was following* theiq was quite unsuspicious of v. hati -was going to happen; and there was no other cab in sight any wliefev At the last moment,. as the driver looked in Clements# direction, Clement nodded' quickly,-had the dobi*" oß' the cab, open,'■and-Ruth dnside; \ v.*

"Kensington Gardens—quick as- you can,", "said' Clement* He jumped in, and slammed the door as the- - vehicle began to move. .-■ ■ ; - j ~ : ii" He looked out through the little of the back of the eab.>- " He's rttnriiiig like the ftlevi£~ " * I suppose in the hope to* find .anotlrfer-cab/" hc' sdld; Vsr 1 he sank down oil ttr the scat besid^'Ruth. - '■ ' : '■ "It's rather exciting," v said Ruth;' s ' They got to Kensington Gardens without seeing anything of their pursuer; they sat for a long time under the trees there, aud talked; -Lovers' !| ti£lk, for-the most part, that made it easy for ihem to forget any peril ' that might menace Hie girl. And a]l at once. Ruth remembered that Clement was to tell her spine special. . news-he had —something exciting and wonderful. . " What is the-great news ? " she . asked. (To be continued next Saturday.)