THE WHITE GUIDE

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXIII, Issue 144709, 18 June 1915, Page 8

THE WHITE GUIDE

fCOPYIUGHT.I

(By William Le Queux,, Author of “The Room of “The Mystery of X.*” etc., etc.

CHAPTER Vll.—Continued*

Yes, she know that Cecil Mylno was to bo arrested. It was that knowledge that had caused her several sleepless nights. For days past two farces had boon working within her, each struggling for mastery. Her woman’s instinct told her that her lover could, if he would, throw some light on tho cause of her brother's death. There was the incident of Cecil’s glove being found on tho dead man’s hand. There were the strange dark, livid marks, as yet unaccounted for, on Alwvn’s neck and head ; and, most significant of nil, there was her Inver’s unaccountable silence and his long absence. . Was he in hiding? Did he fear to speak to her? To meet her gaze? That force urged her to think of him with horror and loathing, for. try as she would, she could not persuade herself that ho was wholly innocent of the crime. And then there was tho other force that made her love him still ns desperately as over, perhaps because there seemed a possibility of his passing out of her life. She thought again of the woman of whom that weird old man. Austen Shaxby. had told her, who had appeared so 'mysteriously in the empty house. 380 Cromwell Road. Who could she have been, and how came she to ho there, and what had since become of her? Then another thought Hashed through her mind. Could the" tale about this woman be only a figment, of the old man’s brain, an effort of imagination? The more she strove to unravel the mystery and get at the truth, the more complex It became. Winifred’s voice calling her cut her train of thought. Doris answered that she would be up in a minute, and then, hardly knowing why, went back into tho library. The first thing she noticed was a strange, rather pungent perfume, an odour quite foreign to her, and then suddenly it struck her that on the occasion of Shaxby’s first visit she had noticed the same curious scent. And yot was it wholly foreign? Did it not recall something to her mind—some scone, some place, some incident or other? Why, yes, but a long time ago. But when was it? And where? She racked her brain in a vain endeavour to unit-o the association of ideas, but had finally to give it up. Winifred called her again, and she went upstairs. To her surprise she found Marjorie Orpen in the drawingroom with Winifred. Doris and Winifred kissed, then Marjorio told her that she and her mother were in town for a few days. They had come up from Hove the day before, and were staying at tho Langham ; and Marjorie had run over to see Winifred and her. Marjorie looked rather oddly »at Doris once or twice while the three girls were talking, and Doris noticed it, though she protended not to. She had never been very fond of “Marge” Orpen. as she was familiarly called, and had sometimes wondered why she and Winifred Hamlyn, whom she loved dearly, were such close friends. True, they‘had been at Highfiold together, she* now reflected, as the question rose again into her mind, but still

“1 hear, Doris dear, all sorts of strange rumours about th.at man Cecil Mylno you need at ouo timo rather to liko,” Marjorie Orpeu presently remarked, carelessly. As sue spoke her eyes narrowed slightly, and she again peered at Doris in the peculiar way she had done before. “Really? What kind of rumours?” “Oh, they say that ho and poor Alwyn wore the deadliest of foes, and that several times Cecil Mylnc had openly boasted that ho would do your brother serious harm before ho had dono with him. T was told that again, only yesterday, and on indisputable authority.” “Who was the authority, dear?” “Oh, come, Doris, you can’t expect me to toll you that, surely. Why, I might I a rift myself in all sorts of trouble if I always told people who the people are who tell me things. It is common talk down our way.” “You mean in tlovc?” '“ln Rrighton—yes.” “Those seaside places arc usually hotbeds of gossip and scandal,” Doris said, quickly. “I wouldn’t pay attention to what people of that description say if I were you, Marjorie. They always exaggerate, and sometimes they—lie.” “Oh, now. Doris, yon know yourself that your poor brother and Cecil Mylno were not—well, not exactly friends.” *"1 know they weren’t. At least, they had not been for some time, put, Marjorie, let us change the subject. Yon have no idea how the thought of Alwyn hurts mo still.” The entrance of the maid to announce that luncheon was ready hrlpinl to turn the conversation in other directions. Yet even during the meal Doris several times felt that'strange look of Marge Orpeu upon her, as though the girl wore nursing some hidden animosity. Marjorie’s manner was rather artificial, loo; .she seemed frequently to say things merely for c/Tcct, and to be übi herself at all.

CHAPTER VIII

THE MYSTERY IS INCREASED,

When Soares. tho detective ■who had succeeded in discovering where the while glove found on Courtney’s hand had been sold in Franco, and by whom it had boon bought, mine with another police officer to arrest Mylno at his rooms in the Albany about mid-day, he found the grate in the solicitor’s study heaped up with the ashes of burnt nnpers, while* more ashes wore in his bedroom grate. Mylno himself was lying back on a lounge chair in his small sitting-room, smoking a cigarette and reading a paper. When His servant told him that two men had called and wished to be admitted at once, ho replied, without a moment’s hesitation : ' “Show them in here. I am expecting them,” 'Though he looked rather weary about the eyes, for he had been up most of the night, and during the remainder of it had slept little, he was, as usual, dressed with scrupulous care, his hair parted with mathematical precision, brushed back and flattened down. As the two men came in ho glanced at them without uncrossing his legs, and asked ; “Arc you police officers?” “Wo are—sir.” “And von have come to arrest mo?” One of the men nodded ; the oilier answered “Y’cs.” Then Soares read tho warrant to him. ‘•i*ou had hotter conn* ouietly, sir,” he said, when ho had finished. It was noticeable hath officers called their prisoner “sir.” “I have no intention of struggling, if that’s what you moan.” Mylno answered, with a grim smile. “Won’t you have something now that you are

here? It’s vour first visit to my house, and it may bo your last. You will find whisky and a siphon over there,” he added' indicating them with a wave of the hand, “alsoa good Havana. Pray help yourselves.”. The men thanked him, but declined his hospitality, and a few minutes later the three entered the waiting taxi and drove away. What weighed chiefly against the ( young lawyer in tho tedious trial that followed—and that it is not necessary to describe—was his known hatred of his former friend, and the remarks ho had been heard to make that he wished Courtney wore dead. Suspicion had to some extent been directed towards him even before the verdict was given at the inquest that Courtney had been murdered—at least, by those who suspected foul play. Mylne, it wifi be remembered, had left Lady Meryon’s ball in Upper Brook Street about an .hour after Courtney, who bad gone down to tho House, and at the trial he was unable to account for Jus movements during tho hours which followed. True ho declared that ho had gone straight home to read up two law cases which wore to come before him next day—lie had told Doris that, ho must go home to do this—but there was no proof that he had gone straight home. And then there was tho mystery of his glove on Courtney’s hand; though’ why, as he dryly pointed out in court, if ho had been m any way concerned in tho crimo, he should have taken pains to leave a duo by putting one of his own gloves on to his victim's hand he failed to see. The trial at tho Old Bailey lasted several days, and on each day tho courts were crowded with people well known in society, and in particular in political circles, men and women curious to soo how so famous a criminal lawyer as Cecil Mylno would act when he found himself ”in the dock on a criminal charge. And what they saw impressed them deeply, and helped them to realise, perhaps as they had never done before, how able and brilliant an advocate Mylno really was. Two points put forward at tho trial evoked a good deal of comment. One was tho statement made by Doris Courtney’s solicitor on her behalf, that a woman had boon seen in tho house whore the crimo had been committed after tho House had boon shut up. Questions wore asked about this in court, and Shaxby’s name was mentioned. Then, where was Austen Shaxby now? counsel asked. Ho should have been subpoenaed to give evidence. Then it transpired that inquiries for him had been made at tho Savoy Hotel, where ho had told Doris Courtney he was staying, but by that time ho had gone from the Savoy, leaving no address. Inquiries had been made at the other hotels as well that ho had been known to frequent, but to no purpose. For the moment his whereabouts were unknown. (To bo continued.)