THE WHITE GLOVE

Taranaki Herald, Volume LXIII, Issue 144712, 22 June 1915, Page 5

THE WHITE GLOVE

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(By William Lo Queux,,

Author of “The Room of Secrets,* “The Mystery of X.,” etc., etc. CHAPTER X. THE LEFT-HAND GLOVE. In a cottage a mile from Fakenham Austen Shaxby sat pondering. Upon tho rather shabby settee at the farther end of tho small room a beautiful woman with fair hair and singularly expressive eyes of a dark purple, fringed with black lashes, and with well-mark-ed black eyebrows, lay extended. Her gaze was fixed upon the old man’s face, but of this bo appeared unconscious. Ho was indeed engrossed in thought, and hardlr aware of her presence. The room was' lit by a single lamp in the middle of the clotl. -covered table, and the blind of the little window was pulled down. “You think ho recognised you?'' tho woman asked, suddenly. She had a deep contralto voice of pleasant timbre.

“I am sure of it,” he answered, rousing himself from his reverie. “But I am equally sure he did not know' that I recognised him.” “What is to bo done?”

“Nothing. X must remain on here and sco what happens, I have a plan forming wliich may he practical.” He pulled a cheroot out of the pocket of his rather shabby jacket, lit it, and, as ho blew clouds of smoke towards the ceiling, became again wrapped in thought., “You say they wore together in tho wood?” ho inquired presently, looking across at his companion, and mechanically reflecting how attractive, sho appeared when stretched out like that, with her chin resting on her hand. “Oh, I have told you, all about it,” she exclaimed, impatiently. “They were together for over an hour. I saw them enter the wood some time before dusk, and by tho time they came out of it tho sun had set.”

“Good. It all helps,” Shaxby said, in a tone of satisfaction. “Now my theory is goiim to be that Mylno caused Courtney’s death with the connivance of Doris Courtney herself. Properly put forward, that theory ought to carry weight—and will. The girl was randlv desirous to marry him. He was beside himself with fury at her brother’s flat refusal to allow tho marriage. When people are in love like that they will do anything; for tho time they are virtually mad. The next step to take is to tell this to Soares, whoso acquaintance I made in Brussels, you remember, and who told mo then that his .name was Fred Deacon, that ho lived at Cockingtou, near Torquay, and had a fiat in town. Ho is in deadly earnest about this case, and won’t rest until ho has arrested, the murderer and had him convicted. It will be a great feather in his cap, of course, now that tho mystery has baffled all tho clevomst intellects in the Criminal Investigation Department.” The woman on the'couch smiled. , “What a scoundrel you arc, when one comes to think of it,” sho said. “WcU, I will help you all I can, as you know. I have no reason to love either Mylno or' tho girl. I should not be what I am now if it had not boon for Cecil Mylno. Now that Somers Gcthcn is out of tho way. wo ought to bo able to go ahead with little risk to speak of.”

“Don’t be too sure,” Shaxby answered, quickly. “We shall bavo to exercise great caution still. Soares, the detective. for instance, is as sharp as anything. If he gets the inkling of a suspicion that I am not what 1 appear to be, or represent myself ns belli", we may be completely frustrated. Well. I am' off to bed ” ho yawned, stretching himself. “Where do they shoot tomorrow ?”

“They start at the Red Barn Farm at ten o’clock.” He went over to the woman, bent down and kissed her lips. ■‘You have been a true friend to me, Marguerite,” he said, at last. ‘•'Wait —your reward cannot he far off now, and when it conics ” He chuckled, and the sound resembled the rasp of a farrier’s file. Then ho kissed her again, this time with a passion strange in so old a man, and left her. Half an hour later tho woman rose, looked up at the little clock on the cottage mantel, and saw it was nearly midnight. Then she pulled on a long, black waterproof, covered her head with a dark shawl, so that her fair hair was completely hidden, and went out. . . ,

Though tho air was quite still, the night was fresh. Sho had turned out the lamp in the cottage, and now shut the door gently behind her, making sure that tho latch caught. A narrowwinding lano led up to tho high road, two hundred yards away. In the road she waited. Presently two points of light' appeared upon the roadway a very long way off.* Eapidlv they grew larger as tho car approached. The car stopped at tho corner of tho lane, and she got in. She spoke no word, neither did the driver address her, and, in less than a minute tho road was again deserted. So intense w-as the stillness that tho verv hedges seemed to sleep. • ■\Vhiio this was happening on tho main road from Fakenham to King’s Lynn, at a house two miles off, Tallwood Court , a different scone ■'urns being enacted. Wcsterton, Jack Deighton, and five other men, guests for tho shooting, were seated at the roulettetable, where an hour before tho ladies of the party had been their fellowplayers. ‘ “Now wo can play the game, one of the men said, as- he helped himself generously to whisky at the side table, then filled the long tumbler with mineral water. “To bo quite candid, 1 was fed up with that nursery roulette, as I call it,, that we’ve been' at for the past two hours. It is like giving a thirsty man a wine-glassful to drink. Who’s holding tho bank—you, Westerton?” The host nodded. “And I feel in a winning mood,” he added, with a laugh, “so you’d better go slow, George.” “Oddly enough, I feel in the same mood myself,” George Baring answered. “Why, what’s become of Mylne?” They looked about, but Mylne had disappeared. “He’ll bo back in a moment, probably,” Westorton said. “Have you all staked?” He set the ball spinning. When it had hopped about for some moments it became motionless, and the wheel was checked. “Zero 1 A good start, anyhow,” tho host exclaimed and swept the cloth of its heap of gold and paper. They staked again, and tho operation was repeated.

“Zero again!” Wcsterton gave a S’oat laugh as he once more scooped in s pile. But when zero came np a third time in succession the players looked rather grave. '‘The table’s bewitched,” Deighton said, as ho prepared his fourth stake. “I’ve never known such a thing happen before—never! Ah, here’s Cecil,” as Mylne re-entered the room, which was becoming thick with tobacco smoke. “You’ve had a lucky escape, old man,” he called out. gaily. “Zero’s come up three times in succession. It’s a record as far as my experience goes.”

“I’ve known it come up four times in succession at Monte,” Cecil remarked, calmly, as he took his scat. ‘Tvc been having a look at the night. Never in my life saw so many stars—myridds of them, and a sharp frost. We ought to have a lovely clay to-morrow. By the wav, WVMorton,” he went on, placing a little pile of gold on number seventeen, “you allow people in your park pretty late—wha t?’ ’ “People in the park? Who? When?” “Not five minutes ago. A man and a woman going down the avenue.” “Oh. impossible! The park gates are locked at ten.”

“Then they must have climbed the gates. They' were there, anyhow. I opened the front door, and the light shining out showed them distinctly.” “What were they like?” “Just ordinary people. 4 The man had on a cap, and I think ho was wearing leggings. The woman was dressed in a long dark cloak, with what looker! like a shawl over her head. They were walking quickly, and soon disappeared in the darkness.” ... “Odd.” We.sterton soliloquised, a-s ho stopped the wheel again. The number that had won was seventeen, and he pushed a heap of gold and some notes across the table towards Mylne. “The lawyers win—as usual,”. George Baring observed, in rather a taciturn bone. He had recently been defended in a law suit, which ho had lost. “Which cannot always be said of defendants.” Mylne retorted, only half in jest. He" pretended not to notice the scowl that passed over Barings face when he said this. (To bo continued.)