CHAPTER XIV.

Tuapeka Times, Volume XXIV, Issue 1888, 16 April 1892, Page 1 (Supplement)

CHAPTER XIV.

AT LAST.

Peter Dusk, the detective, sat in his room overlooking the Grand Canal, and smoked until he had enveloped himself as in a thick mist. It was his invariable practice to smoke furiously while working out any mental problem. It must have been a knotty point at issue, for though it was early morning, he had consumed several manillas over the subject, and that subject was none other than the escape of a madman from the asylum of a private madhouse in the city. By that queer method known best to his caste, of tracking crime and its perpetrators through '.heir manifold labyrinths, Peter Dusk li.ad found his man, only to 1030 him the next day. .

It seemed strange indeed that Fernbrook, Mat .'prat, or whatever name the master of the Barrier Rock was known by, should be discovered in a mad-house in Venice, But so ib was. The detective had given no explanation as to how he had discovered the clue that led his steps to the as-/lum.

It was sufficient for him that one of the lunatics therein wa3 the person he had tracked half round ihe known globe. There wab'iio mistaking the original to the photograph, which had guided the officer all through his long patient search; the simple ib noodle would havo recognized the likeness in an iustant. The poor p.ttieufc, with his great black eyea ablnzo, pleaded hard with his countryman tj set him- free, but the detective imly shook his head in .".flecied pity.

Or.cc without the walls of the madhouse, Dusk hugged himself in momentary triumph. At l;\sb he had run his ma.,l to carth — had him safe under lock ani key. To-morrow hi? employers should see Fernbrook fjr fchemswlves.

They went on the morrow— Warne, iij'ndhurst, and the smiling terrible limb of the law. But he they went to see had gone — escaped, and left not the ghost of a clue behind him.

The sceptical novelist laughs:! at the whole affair.

" I'm afraid you've been working too hard in this case," my friend," he said in a kind way to the crestfallen runner from Scotland Yard. " I cannot but admire the tact and skill displayed in your tracing the doins;3 of Fernbrook and his friends, but when you affirm that he is here, in a lunatic asylum in Venice, I beg to differ -with you. Except Hil'on Fernbrook has the power of Asmodens at his back, andean transfer himself from one hemisphere to another with the speed of thought, I cannot see how it is possible lie can be in this city. Besides did not the Master of Dei Maddilino say this self s;>me person had been confined there for over three years ? How can you reconcile that statement witli your theory that the poor wretch was the Master of Fernbrook ?"

Peter Dusk disdained to argue, but he ransacked the old Venetian city from St. Mark to El Perdo for the escapo:. 1 . Ib was of no avail, however ; there was no more clue to be had of him than if the earth had gaped and swallowed him up.

When all the questioning and searching was ended. Peter Du3k had gone over to Del Grade for further orders, but Warne and his companion bad departed for London.

So the detective smoked and! reflected, and the more he smoked and cogitated the more puzzled he became over the whole affair.

" That Mr. Lyndhurst was perhaps right alter all," he muttered, apostrophising the table. " I don't see how a man can possibly be in two places at the same time. They say tlu3 Hilton Fernbrook is still in New Zealand — was at the opera a matter of only six weeks ago. How then can the man whom I saw in the madhouse be he ? Yot, if th.l 3is a striking likeness of the man I was sent after, I'll swear the escaped lunatic is either the devil ortheconvictMaupr.it. Humph! let me think 1"

There was no one to hinder him thinking out the question in all its subtle bearings, and it toak him some time ere he was weary of it. The little marble clock over the mantle piece chiming noon aroused him.

" Ah, well, I can't see my way now," he resumed, in that quaint fashion of talking to himself. " I'll not give in though, not I. If that madmnn be alive and above ground, I'll find him — though I don't believe he's a bit mad. A crazy fellow would not have acted or spoken as he did. It's no use staying here. The f How's an Englishman and he'll make for London. All sorts and conditions of men hide themselves either there or in Paris. If he goes to one or the other I'm certain to hunt him out. I'll pack up and be off and try London first. "

It does not take him long to put his decision into execution.

A steamer is found ready for sailing, and Peter Dusk takes a passage in her.

It is a cold, windy evening that finds him on the slippery pavement of the Strand. Instead of wending his way to the office of the Minories, the detective goes straight to his lodgings in Ludgate, and comes forth again within the hour quite transformed in outward appearance. Galling a cab he drives towards Temple Bar.

"If this man's in Loudon, he'll have a peep at the theatre," he says to himswlf. " Rogues or lunatics, it's all the same. As soon as they're let out of the cage, they are drawn to the playhouse as if by magic. I'll begin with the theatres."

Dismissing the trap, he walks down to the Adelphi, and paying his shiying ascends to the gallery, where he can see almost every person in the house.

A few minutes suffice to convince him that the escaped madman is not amongst the audience here.

From the Adelphi Peter D\isk goes to Drury Lane.

Instead ot mounting the gallery he takes a seat in the dress circle, and looks round at the vast sea of heads and faces

crowding the place. Away oufc yonder near the stage, in the pit, the detective suddenly sees the man lie is looking for.

There is no mistaking that proud, dark Spanish-like face, with the short cropped black hair and moustache.

The man is leaning indolently agiinst the stage-box, (yet deeply intent upon the performance), and is dressed in a suit of sober tweed.

Before the scene U concluded Petor Dusk has taken a seat beside the man in the pit, and has silisfied himself beyond the smallest shadow of a doubt that he is the escaped lunatic from "Del Madilino." "Fine play, my friend." The man turns and looks the Scotland Yard runner full in the 'face.

"It is a grand performance," he responds slowly, and in a rich manly voice, that had a tone of melancholy in it. " But it is badly mounted. In France they attend to those things more so than in England."

" Youaro not a Frenchman, sir '»"'

"No," replied the stranger, smiling. " Nor yet an Englishman ; I may say that I ani a cosmopolitan, having ' travelled some,' as they say in America."

"Are you an American ?"

" You are curious, my' friend," said the other, good-humouredly. "In France, and even in the United State 3, they have a rule in society called etiquette, which means that rude questions are deserving rude answers. If you are inclined to learn my nationality, I may tell you that I have none. I repeat, lam a cosmopolitan.''

"Beg pardon," said the detective, hastily. " Tfc struck me I had seen you before somewhere."

" You wers a stricken deer, my friend, for thinking so," responded the other. "We cannot po3sibly have met before."

" I think we have," cried the detective.

There was a swift flash in the black eyea, as they turned with sudden and suspicious look to the face of the speaker.

"Indeed, sir! Where?" he asked, quickly.

" Have you courage to accompany me to the vestibule, and I will tell you there !"

" Why not tell me hero 1" replied the other with some disdain.

" I have a reason, which I will give you also, if you will adjourn with me."

"Pray, lead the way ; I am at your service."

Not another word was &pol:en until the pur reached a small room, adjoining the saloon bar.

"Now, sir," said the stranger, "'seating himself.- "Tell me where you and I have met before. "

"At the Del Madiiino, in the city of Venice," cried Duak.

If a p'-stol bullet had gone through the body of the man, then and there, he could not have evinced greater surprise. He stared at the detective in blank amazement for fully a miuuto.

"Pray, who are you?" he said, at length.

"I may answer after your fashion, and reply, I'm a cosmopolitan."

"You saw me in a mad-house in Venice ?" asked the other in a vacant way.

"Yes! the Del Madiiino, a private asylum, governed by one Dr. Dotti Nicolino."

The other replied not, but gripped the back of his chair with a convulsive clutch.

"It is not many days since I was in Venice on business. I had occasion to visit Dr. Nicolini's establishment. I saw you there." " I remember you now," responded the other, niter a pause, in which he had recovered from his surprise. "You have disguised yourself, but I recognize your voice."

"I'm glad of that," said the detective coolly. " Now tell me how you escaped from Del Madiiino ?"

The man laughed

"Still inquisitive," lie said, with mild irony in his tone. "Are you interested my friend?" "Perhaps." " Well the story is too long, and I'm not in the humor to talk much."

"How if I land you in gaol, and send you back to Venice V" inquired Dusk.

' ' My good sir, you are evidently in a fog respecting the law of England concerning lunatics, answered the stranger with a smile. " First, you will have to prove that lam insane ; second, that I escaped from a mad-house." " Did you not escape ?" " That is another question, 017 friend."

Peter Dusk reflected a moment. He felt that he had no lunatic to deal with in the person of this stranger.

"What if I send for Dr. Nicolini, and prove your identity ?" said the detective.

"The mad doctor cannot prove my identity. Besides he dare not set foot in London." "Dare not!" •' I repeat — dare not."

" Why, pray 1" inquired Dusk.

"My friend, questions seem to bsyour forte, but I am not inclined to answer them. It you have any business with me, pray come to it at once, for I wish to see the play out,"

"Do not be in a hurry," said Dusk, placing hi« back to the door. "Dj you know who I am?" " No, nor do I care." "I am Peter Dusk, from Scotland Yard."

" Indeed, and pray. Mr. Dusk, what is that to me ?"

"Do you know this photograph?" replied the other, handing him a carte-de-visite.

The stranger took it, and held it to the light. A3 he looked at the picture, there came into his eyes a strange expression impossible to describe. Peter Dusk watched his face as a tiger does its prey. — To be Qoktwved.F D ll