The Lady in the Black Mask

Sun (Christchurch), Volume I, Issue 73, 2 May 1914, Page 4

The Lady in the Black Mask

CHAPTER XIII. J THE WOLF AT BAY. It would be difficult to say exactly ■what had been in the mind-of Morris JLoader when he dispatched that note to Damia. For one , thing, the u«id -desire to see this woman who had tricked and deceived him, and for whom, even yet, his passion was not dead; and for another, the desire, in aome indefinite way, to be revenged upon her. Perhaps also he realised that for him things were closing in, and the end was near. «*■.'. He worked' very late at the office; lie seemed to be clearing up a great many matters of one sort and another. And while he worked he thought of those men he had seen —outside his building here, and at his chambers in Knightsbridge—lounging men who were ■watching him. He began to wonder just when one of these men or another would step quickly up to him and say the one thing he was dreading to hear. ■\\T e ll—the thing was not ended yet; there would be a" long fight before any end could be achieved. Last of all, when he had finished ■work, he unlocked that drawer in his desk in which Clement had found the ' ley; took out that put it in'to lis pocket, and locked the drawer again. / Then he put on his hat and lighted a \eigar and 'prepared to set out. ; He had made up his mind to walk < *with an air of bravado past that man '■who must be outside, and to take no notice when the man swung round and to follow him. But it was a ' Jittle disconcerting to find that there was no man there. It was late, and the street was empty; he looked to

'. aright and to left, as though he could ). '' scarcely understand it. But for some '" reason or other the watching had been .'. abandoned. . /

He got a cab and went home to ! KnigMsbridge. He was quite certain in his own mind/that he would find a ■ man waiting there; but again there was ho one. He went up the stairs* with a lighter heart, smiling to. himtfelf. "They're off on another tack," he .muttered as he went. "I wonder Avhat the new game is?" His manservant handed him a note, x and he tore it open eagerly. It was the note which Damia had written at the suggestion of Bellamy, confirming the appointment for 2 o'clock that night. , He smiled quietly as he locked the note away; things were going very well for liiin. .After all, he nee<l not- have troubled; things always had gone well for him. He went out to his club and dined; lie met one or two men there whom he knew, and chatted carelessly with them. Usually he.was not a man to talk.much with his fellows or give anyone more than a curt nod; but this evening he even went out of his way to talk to men he scarcely knew. It was said \©£ him afterwards that he seemed ,'. strangely excited.' It was near to mid- . night when he went back to his rooms, ■' and found that his manservant had .• gone to bed. He lighted another cigar i and drank one or two stiff glasses of *'' -whisky-and-soda; then, at the last " -moment, before sitting down to kill the time that still remained, he unlocked a drawer in a cabinet and took out a heavy revolver. He shook out the cartridges, and saw the thing was in working order; "'"".reloaded it, and put it into his pocket. As the clock pointed half-past 1 he got up, extinguished the lights, and " ■ went- out. It was a fine, clear night, and at that hour there were but few people about. It was no very great distance to Tnd'Cr B<tu::ie. and \ah:-lev walked. He

A New Story by Tom Gallon

came to the mews behind the house, and glanced quickly about him to see if by any chance there was anyone watching there; walked quietly along in the shadow of the wall, and let himself in at that back door with his key, closing the door carefully again afterwards. Meanwhile, in the house itself, Damia had been sitting in her room, starting at shadows, watching the little silver clock on the mantelshelf, and wondering what was .going to happen. She had been expecting that Bellamy would arrive, but she had seen nothing of him. Surely he would no't be likely to fail her; as much depended on it for him as for anyone else. If only Bellamy were there, as he had promised, she would feel so safe. - It was horrible to wait like through the weary hours, with no one to help her or to support her. She wished over and over again that she had never sent that note at all.

A clock in the house boomed out 2; but she knew that that clock was invariably fast. She had still a minute or two longer; and even then she might wait, perhaps, and put off the meeting a little. And. then she heard a movement in the house. A stealthy movement—just the creaking of a stair that to anyone less watchful ! would not have been noticeable. She gripped her hands tightly on the arms of the chair in which she sat, and felt as though she must scream out. Suppose, after all, she made up ner mind to lock her door and defy anyone to come in. The man could not do anything then; he would not dure/ He would wait perhaps an hour or so, and then go away again. Yet, on the other hand, Bellamy would surely keep his word, and the matter could be done with andfsettled to-night. How foolish of hei>l Perhaps it was Bellamy she had heard moving in the house, and he was now in the library. She was frightening herself for nothing. She opened the door of the room and crept out on to the landing, then began to steal downstairs. It'seemed to take a long time for her to get down; and once kljc almost started and cried out as a clock clos,e to her struck the true hour. She got to the door of the library at last and opened it very slowly, inch by inch; everything was dark within. She felt round the edge of the doorway and switched on the light, and then went quietly into the room and looked about her. There was no one there. She heaved a little sigh of relief, and went further into the room, leaving the door partly open. She did not sit down; she moved restlessly about near the big desk ..in-the middle of the room, touching the edge of it, and always watching the door. And now she heard distinctly that movement again in the house —just a faint footfall. She drew herself upright, and shuddered," and waited, watching the door. , It opened very slowly, and she< could feel her heart thundering in her breast, while yet she did not see the man. He came in at last, with a ghostly tread on the thick carpet; he did not speak until he was quite close to her. He carried his hat in his hand; and he set it upon the table, and so stood for a moment or two, looking at her with a curious smile upon his lips. "Well, my dear/', he said "at last in a whisper, with his face scarcely a foot from hers. "At last!"

"I'm glad been able to come,'.' she faltered, thinking with dismay of the false Bellamy, "You're not glad at all; you're dreadfully afraid," he said. "You never did tell the truth, Damia; lying has always been second nature to you.

It used to amuse me once to see how you could : dodge : round the truth!—it was funny. I used t<* love you for it then, just as I loved you for everything else you did. They say that men can be fools over women; was there ever a greater fool than I have been, do you think?" "I don't know ■"What you mean,'' she faltered, half in a mood to step back and away from him, and yet held by the fascination of his eyes. "I've always told the truth to'you." He laughed, and suddenly flung out his hands and caughfr her, and drew her close to him. He kissed her again and again full upon the lips; she struggled a little, but only in a weak fashion, and not with any deliberate intention of getting away from him. When at last he let her go, he thrust her into a chair beside the great desk, and sat on the desk, and so'looked 'down at her; "We've lots of time, and there's quite a great deal I have to say to you —now, for the last last time, "he said. "I think «I would do it all again—every bit of it, on your account, Damia; a man such as I am only plays the fool once for the sake of a woman, but he plays it thoroughly. This is a heart to heart talk, my dear, and for once we'll tell the truth without reserve. Have you seen that husband of yours?" ''l have told you before, Morris, that I am not married," she began; and then, at the look in Tiis eyes, faltered and began again. "Well, it wasn't my fault. My guardian arranged that I should marry you, and I had to do what he said." "The -truth!" he cried a little wearily. "You loved me before ever I spoke to Verinder; you told me so. If you changed afterwards, that's another affair, but.you know that you loved me."

''Paul was so insistent; he drove me into it,".said*Damia poutingly.- "I!m always doing things on the spur of the moment like that"

"Well, the spur of the moment, as you term it, has cost you pretty "dearly, hasn't it?" suggested Loader. "It's been pretty much of a crash all the w r ay round for all of us. Has that husband of yours got any money?" ,She shook her head dismally. "His people wanted him to marry someone else," she said. "There'll be a lot of trouble over that, and he thinks they may not even acknowledge me, or have anything to do with me." He laughed disagreeably. "That seems a cheerful prospect, doesn't it? You'd better have stuck to me, after all. I've been through quite a. lot for you, my dear, and I nearly lost you once." "Nearly lost me?" she asked, bewildered. "Yes! it's beeiutouch and go right along. Look )at those hands.'' He stretched out his hands, palms upwards, towards her, and she looked at them in a dazed fashion. He bent a little nearer to her. "There's blood upon them," he said. She pushed her chair back a little, looking at him with horror; she could not speak. The man went on in a quiet, tense voice, and obviously enjoying her terror. "Do you knoAv who killed Daniel Yerinder? Do you know who has been looking on, and watching all that has been happening, and seeing the newspapers. Do you know who has stood outside it all and seen them hunt that wretched girl who had nothing' whatever to do with it?" '' Don't tell me,'' she faltered. '' Please —please —I doii 't want to hear!"

"You've got to hear; that's why we meet to-night. You were always a coward, Damia; you always fought shy of anything that might startle you or frighten you. This time you've got to hear all about it—here, alone in. this dead hour of the night, and in the place where it happened. Because, you see," —he thrust his face nearer to hers and laughed—"you can't get away."

She watched him now with but one thought in h<er mind; that he was mad.

His rather prominent eyes were gleaming, and hisr breath was r coming fast as he talked; his face-was quite close to hers as he leaned down over her.

<«I >ve got to begin at the beginning. It's all been done for you-—every bit ?f it; I've sold my soul for you, and o-night I stand, beggared and bankrupt for a worthless doll that belongs to another man. When first I went to Daniel Verinder and told him that we were in love with each other, and that I wanted to marry you, I think he was the happiest fellow in the wide world. He shook hands with me again and again; he said what a splendid thing it was. Shall I tell you what he said?" She did not speak; she simply looked at him and slowly and mechanically nodded her head. • "He said you needed someone like myself to look after you; it seems he knew you as well as I did. He said he would make it binding; he would make a will by which all that he had would go to you,, on the sole condition that you married me. I suppose he thought that you might change your mind. He showed me that will at the time when we were fast friends, and I saw my life clearly set out before me, with love and wealth, and ail that I most desired.','

He got down from the table, and' took a restless turn or two about the room; presently he came back to her. She sat crouched together in the chair, staring at him.

''Then I did a mad thing. I was ambitious, and I wanted to be richer—with riches that should match your own. I had had business deals with Verinder, over and over again; sometimes in partnership with him, sometimes in the open market against him. We both had keen wits, and we did our best, in a friendly fashion, each to do better than the other. We used to laugh over those deals, and neither of us troubled a bit about fighting each other. And then I saw my chance, and I did a thing—secretly and behind his back — aiming a blow at' him that should stab him, without his knowing who the assailant was. I had been losing heavily, and I wanted money;' this was to be one final coup that should make, me rich at-one stroke."

He took out his handkerchief, and wiped the palms of his hands and his forehead; he stood silent for a moment, listening as though for some noise in the house. Apparently- satisfied, he went on again. "I came within touch of the law, if they had found it out it was forgery. Things like that you wouldn't understand. Verinder found it out, and got hold of the papers that could ruin me. More than that, we had one last interview, and he told me what he meant to do. He would go home that night, and would prepare a new will, with a new clause in it. That will should sternly forbid you to marry me, under the penalty of losing all you had; that will would set forth what nw crime had been. It was with that final threat that he left me." A clock somewhere in the house chimed, and from somewhere near at hand a dog barked. Damia, watching the man, thought of Bellamy, and wondered when he would come, or what had kept him away. "I was mad that night; I didn't know what to do. I knew h"£ would keep his word; and I loved you, anil dared not lose you. I had arranged to go to the theatre with some friends, and while I was there I saw a scene on the stage that told me instantly what I could do. I got away from the theatre and I came back to this house. I half made up my mind to ring boldly, and ask for him, and make a final appeal to him. I went back to my rooms, and I got from there a long Swedish knife —the sort of thing that folds up into its handle. I didn't quite know what I was doing; I came back to the house, and I went round to the mews. While I was waiting about there the back door was opened, a%id that companion of yours, Miss Tringham, came out, and walked away. That was about one o'clock in the morning."

I '■ It wasn't Ruth," she faltered. <' It was I —in her dress. I went out to try and find my husband; I hadn't seen him since we were married." "Nor Ruth?" he asked amazed. "Well, we can talk about that presently," he went'on impatiently. "It occurred to me that perhaps the door had been left open, if the girl had sneaked out like that; I went and tried it. I got' in, and kept still long' time; then I went to the library. I opened the door quietly, and looked in; he was sitting, with his back to the door, and he did not hear me. It was the click of the knife as I opened it that startled him; but I was upon him before he could rise. I struck him twice at the back of the neck, just as I had seen,the man do in the play. And he went down —and lay still." She was swaying a little in her chair, with her eyes half closed; it seemed as if she must faint. The man's voice went on inexorably. "I hunted among the papers, but I couldn't find anything. "Then I got frightened, and I shut up the knife, and took it with me out of the house. I knew I'd got to be seen by people who knew me; I went straight off to Lady Woodmason. On the way, from the window of the taxi-cab I threw the knife over a ;. wall on to some waste land. . I got to' the -ball—and that's the end of it."

There was a ghostly" silence in the room as the man finished his confession. Damia had stirred a little, and had put out her hands as if to stop him once or twice. He was looking at/her with a curious, cynical look upon his face.

"I couldn't get the papers, and I was worried about that. When I came the next day and heard all the talk about the murder, it occurred to me that I might be able to get in again. I managed to get to that back door, and to take out; I carried it away with me. Then, about one' o'clock in the morning,'l crept in; and just as I was hunting through the papers that girl Tringham came down and surprised me. Even then I managed to get away, and no one would ever have suspected me, or would ever have known. You—little fool that you are—have spoilt the game for yourself and for me. Verinder hadn't had time to make a fresh will; you would have had the money, and I should have had you. What a business you've made of it all."

"What are you going to do about it?" she asked. "No one will know—and I suppose you'll get away. I didn't mean to do any harm; I never meant to hurt anybody. After all, I shall suffer—and I've suffered a great deal already." "You? You don't know what suffering means," he exclaimed. "You're just a eqld : blooded, selfish little beast that likes to lie soft in cottonwool and keep out of trouble. I came here tonight meaning to kill you. Do you see this?" He drew the revolver from his pocket and held it pointed at her. She crouched down in the chair, looking at him with wide eyes or terror; he laughed as he let' the revolver swing to and fro in his hand. ■.....-.'

"But you're not worth it. You're such a mean and pitiful thing that I'm going to Jet you alone. And -through all your life you can go with that knowledge: that the little white lies you told and the bigger black lies afterwards have been no good to you, and that in the end you've lost. Now I'm going out the way I came; because I know you won't dare to say a word about me, and I know that no one else is likely to suspect me. Have you anything to say?" . • J

There was a rattle of curtain rings at the end of the room as the curtain over an alcove was smartly twisted back; and Bellamy stood there, looking at the man. Damia, as much surprised at Loader, made a little frightened scurry to the other end of the room, and crouched against the wall; Loader drew, back, with the revolver held in his grip, and watching Bellamy. "Mr Loader—the game's up," said

Bellamy sharply, with a movement towards the pocket of his coat. ~ 'Tarn armed, and I'm not here to stand any nonsense. I merely, wanted to know how you got into this house; and I've been lucky enough to hear more than I bargained for. JDrop your ;weapon; the game is up, I tell you." Loader stood there against the wall of the "room/and looked quickly about him; t&en,as Bellamy took a step towards him, he' swung the revolver straight,, and-turned like lightning towards the girl. "Sold me—have you?" he cried. And fired straight at her. , Without even a cry she went down like a mere crumpled heap of garments. Bellamy sprang „> forward, but Loader, with a laugh, backed away, and turned the weapon on himself. There was. a .second loud report, and Loader reeled, and dropped the revolver; and fell headlong, and lay still.

It ha-s to be recorded-that Damia did not die. She was certainly very badly wounded, and lay for a long time, in danger, with opportunity to think about things and perhaps to come to some new conclusions regarding them. The story of that dramatic suicide, in the very room in which the' murder had been committed, was duly told, and proved to be something more than a mere nine days' wonder. In fact, Ruth Tringham was in danger of becoming, almost a heroine* But a . certain young man, who had occupied the position of confidential secretary to Mr Morris Loader, suddenly found himself in the unpleasant position of having nothing to do. That position is always particularly unpleasant in a big city; and poor Clement vexed his mind and wore out the soles' of his boots by hunting in vain for some situation, of any.sort, that might bo likely to bring any grist to his particular mill. He hated the thought of Ruth having to work; and yet that is what it ultimately came to, for she had to fill an uninteresting situation as a nursery governess in order to provide for herself. j i.'' And all this time t,nere hovered over them the shadow of .Lady Woodmason. Lady Woodmason once or twice climbed the stairs of Pomeroy Buildings, Hoi-: born, arriving, scant of breath, at the top, to demand that Clement should accept assistance from her, or that the girl should at all events give up being a nursery governess and come into Lady Woodmason's house. '' Didn't I tell you that I'm a lonely woman, and that I'm getting old?" she pleaded. "There isn't a soul in the world that cares a snap of the fingers about me; and I care very much f6r the pair of you." No arguments moving them, the old lady finally went away, in something of a temper, roundly declaring that they were a pair of obstinate young fools, and that she would have nothing more to do with them. And still matters did not mend, and Clement had got to the point of wondering desperately what was going to happen to him, and was saying as much to Ruth one evening, when a dapper young man climbed the stairs leading to Clement's rooms, and knocked at the door.

The dapper young man announced himself as the junior partner in a firm of solicitors who had long acted for Lady Woodmason. Most regretfully, the young man informed them that Lady Woodmason had been discovered that morning by her maid apparently lying quietly asleep; but she was dead. And she had left the whole of her fortune, without restrictions of any kind, to Clement Singleton and Kuth Tringham, on the sole condition that they were married to each other within one calendar month. "Oh, I'm sorry," exclaimed Ruth, with tears in her eyes. "Sorry?" demanded the youjag solicitor in astonishment. '' Of course I'm sorry,'' said Ruth indignantly. '' She was the best friend I ever had." (The End.)