THE ROOM OF SECRETS.

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXI, Issue 144145, 15 July 1913, Page 5

THE ROOM OF SECRETS.

BY WILLIAM LE QUEX.

CHAPTER IX.— I Continued. Joan only Brew a long sigh- Then, after a brief silence, sue said, in a quick, impetuous way; “If you have any consicleratio\ for me—unfortunate .girl that I am—if you won Icl save my life, you will at once relax your efforts to elucidate the affair, and stand ray friend. Do not, I beg of you, court death by attempting to bring ray father to justice, for 1 feel convinced that yon will never succeed. Ho is Jar too clever, I assure yon,” and she again, placed her trembling hand upon my coat-sleeve. “I must know the truth. Then I will decide whether I speak or whether I remain silent,” i said. i “Reflect for a second, Mr. Colefax. If you went to the police and made a statement, who would believe you? What corroboration of your story could you bring? Why, you could not even point out the house to which Jessie took you.” And I stood there in the gloom,silent and perplexed. What Joan said was the truth.

Karl Koop, evidently a genius in craftiness and cunning, stood defiant. He knew that I still remained alive, and feared lest I should arise as a witness against him. ' Therefore he would, most certainly, attempt a second, and even more ingenious, coup against mo. How should I act? How, my reader, would you have acted in those sanio tangled circumstances? “Well,” I exclaimed, after a few moments’ reflection, “you seek my advice and aid, Miss Joan. How do you propose that I can assist you ?” • For a few seconds she did not reply. Her head was bent before me.

“I—l dare not suggest to you,” she whispered. “I—l’m too filled with fear—too ashamed. Ah!” sho burst forth, suddenly, looking up at me appealingly. “You do not know me, Mr. Colefax—you have no idea of the terrible enormity of my crime. And yet —yet' I, in ray desperation, have tho a/.dacity to hope—to think t.hat you might perhaps take pity upon me and —and save me from an ignominous endl”

“In what way do you suggest that 1 might help you?” I asked, repealing my, question in a low voice of sympathy, my curiosity aroused by her strange remarks. “By acting—acting blindly against your own instincts. By—by placing yourself entirely and irrevocably in my hands.”

“In your hands 1” I cried. “What do you mean?” “I—l hardly know how to adequately explain.,” replied, the girl, in a thin, trembling voice, “for I know that you would never consent. And—and when

I tell you, I—l know thate-ajas, you will, hate me. And why not? Is it not but natural that ah honest man should hold in loathing a degraded woman whose hands are stained by a terrible—a dastardly crime.” “You have hot replied to my question, Miss" Joan,” I said, very firmly, noting that her whole frame was convulsed ,by emotion, and that this strange confession had been wrung from her by sheer desperation. “What can I do to save you ?” , . “Ah, listen—listen, and if you will forgive me for my words, I—l will tell you,” she said, in a hoarse, breathless whisper. At’ that instant I was startled by a slight, stealthy movement in tho darkness, and turned to glance behind me, but ere I realised what had happened, I heard Joan utter a loud shriek of alarm, and felt my throat encircled by a pair of big, strong hands, the long fingers of which sank deep; into my flesh.' I tried to shout, to struggle for freedom, but to no avail. 1 was being strangled, and no sound passed my lips beyond a loud gurgle. My assailant was tall, robust, and athletic, and as, I managed to turn in my efforts to extricate myself from bis deadly embrace, I found myself, to my horror, looking into the grinning, evil face of Ibrahim.

The girl, without further word, fell upon him fiercely, endeavouring to assist me and to tear him off. But ho was more than a match for us both. Even in the gloom I could see his fiery, bloodshot eyes glaring into mine with murderous intent, as slowly he strangled me, preventing me from uttering a single sound, and bringing the blood into my mouth. That moment was a truly terrible one. My feelings were indescribable. By daring to venture there I had fallen into yet another trap. Koop, with his clever ingenuity, had again planned my death. I was held helpless by tho Arab’s sinewy hands. “Help! Help!” shrieked the girl, wringing her hands in despair, but the cry was unheeded. He had forced me backward against the wall, and was crushing the life from me. Joan’s tears had, alas, been well grounded. Karl Koop had resolved to seek a solution of that weird, astounding mystery. His crafty vengeance had fallen upon me. I was held in deadly embrace, for I had been entrapped. I felt my strength failing and my head (bursting, when, : of a sudden, I was startled, amazed, for a strange thing happened. CHAPTER S. !N FACE OF THE LAW. Ibrahim’s brown, murderous fingers compressed upon my throat, squeezing the life out of me. He was a man of colossal strength; his muscles like iron, his teeth hard set, his mouth hissing as, with gleeful triumph, he held me in that fatal embrace. Joan’s efforts were of no avail, tor be cast her off as easily as he would a fly- “ You brute!” X heard her cry. “You shall not kill him—you sha’n’tl” Next second a red flash in the- darkness blinded me, followed by a loud report, and instantly the Arab’s grip upon me relaxed. Then, uttering a loud, fierce curse in Arabic, be stumbled and foil to the ground, oarrjdng me with him. In a moment I bad extricated myself ; not, however, before X felt my hands sticky with blood. Ibrahim lay there in the dark, roadway without moving a muscle. I uttered no word, neither did Joan. She had cast the revolver from her, and stood immovable, appalled. Striking a match, X bent to examine the brown, hideous face. It looked even more horrible, distorted as it was by pain, the eyes closed, the white gleaming teeth clenched. “Ah!” gasped the girl at last, with a low shriek of horror. ’ “Heavens! I —l’ve killed himl” “To save me,” I said, in as quiet a tone as I could command. “Bvrt but I am a murderess!” she declared, in a low, piteous voice, looking blankly about her. “What can I do? X-—I must get away, at oncel”

By the light of another match I caught sight of tho wound. It was beneath the loft shoulder. His blue serge jacket was covered with blood. Making a rapid examination, I could discover no sign of life. I could not delect oven the slightest flutter of the heart. Thereupon I made up my mind at onco that the bullet had produced a fatal effect—that ho was dead! Breathlessly Joan asked my opinion, and 1 told her that I feared he would no longer trouble her. “Ah!” she cried, in deepest distress, horrified at tho result of her -action. “What can 1 do, Mr. Colofax? How can I savo myself? When ho knows — ho will hunt mo to the very ends of tho earth.” “When who knows?” “My lather. Ho will surely avengo Ibrahim’s death.”

“You saved mo,” I said, placing my hand tenderly upon her shoulder. “Had you nut dune this I should at this moment have been a dead man. “1 murdered him!” she cried, covering her face with her hands., "I murdered him because I hated him.”

“You saved my life—that is all. I. can bear witness to that,” I said. “Let your father attempt to harm you, and ho shall now reckon with me.” “No,” she replied, in a strangely firm tone. “You believe yourself powerful, Mr. Colofax, because you know some of my father’s secrets; but, believe me, you aro really utterly unavailing against his marvellous ingenuity, his cunning, his daring, and his unscrupulousness. We aro both of us—both you and I—powerless in his hands.”

“That remains to be proved,” I said, hopefully. "You must not be discovered,” she urged. ‘ ‘You must help me to get away. I rely on you now, Mr. Colefax, to assist mo to escape. If Ibrahim does not return my la liter will come out and search for him,” and her soft hand touched ray arm. “Then your father is at the inn ”

“Yes.” “And when he finds tho Arab dead' he, knowing that his cat’s-paw went forth to attack mo in secret, will believe that I shot him,” 1 said. “Probably. But there _ is no time for further discussion. What shall wo do?” she asked. “What do you suggest?” _ ~ “My car is up above Hexworthy, 1 said. “To resell it you would have to pass through the village, and that would be far too dangerous.” Sho reflected for a moment, and then said;— “I know this part of tho moor, for we've been hero quite half-a-dozen times. My father Ashes hero in the summer. I’ve an idea. You return to the car and go slowly for about one mile along the left-hand road at tho signpost. One road comes down past tlie inn and into tho village, while the other bears out to tho left. Along herb a short distance is a footpath which crosses over, to that road.” “But tho river?” ! asked.

“There are stepping-stones. I know tho path quite well, and 1 can find it, even as dark as it is.” “But X don’t- like to leave you here,” I said, without hesitation. “It is the only way. -Give me, jour matches, and when 1 get to the highroad I will strike a light, and by that you will find me.” - So I handed her my matchbox, and, with a word of adieu, wo parted. I listened until I, could no' longer hear her footsu/ps, then swiftlyX ,ran back to where the Arab was lying, and rapidly searched his pockets. _ _ In the inner pocket of his jacket were what felt like some letters, and these 1 instantly secured. Then, still finding no sign of life, I rapidly made mv wav up the hill and past the Forest Inn. (To bo continued.)