A COMPLEX CRIME

Waikato Times, Volume 98, Issue 15309, 9 August 1923, Page 3

A COMPLEX CRIME

CHAPTER XXVII. SYBIL TELLS HER STORY. Our companion turned a pair of mournful, dark eyes towards Marion, and said, in a voice scarce above a whisper, "May I ask who you are" "This," replied my friend, signifying- mc, "is Miss Carmen Sylvester, my very dear friend; and I am —or thought I was until very recently—Mrs. Darrell. But"—with a mirthless laugh—"it would appear that that name applies more correctly to yourself." "I am Mrs. Darrell, certainly," was the low reply. "Mrs. Henry Darrell, of Darkleigh Manor; but whether my husband is alive or dead I have yet to learn; though I fear, and have feared for years, that he is dead. For, were he living, he "would have long since rescued me from the clutches of that inhuman brother of his and the cruel life to which, for five long years, lie has doomed me."

In wide-eyed amazement both Marion and I stared aghast at the speaker.

What, in the name of wonders, was she driving at? Was she, too, mad? And had that been the reason of Darren's having kept her in such close confinement? Yet this poor creature did not seem in the least demented. "I hardly understand the meaning- of your words," rejoined Marion. "Do you really m;ean that Mr. Darrell has never seen you during the period of which you speak, although he has been living beneath the same roof as both you and I? I have believed him to be my husband. And I swear to you, by all that is sacred, that I had no idea that he had even been married before, much less that you, his lawful wife, were living—and in this house. We have both been cruelly wronged. And yet, after all, I think that I am the one mostly to be pitied now; for you are his wife, while I am a dishonoured woman with no right to the name I bear."

"I think, dear madam, that you are jumping a little too hastily to conclusions," replied the other. "The man whom I fancy you believe to be my husband is not. lam referring to the master of one known as Gustave Delaine. His name is Harry Darrell, certainly, but he is the younger twin brother of my husband, who has mysteriously vanished. And now,that I "have set your mind at rest on that point, I will, with your permission, tell you my story, and you will then be enabled to understand your husband's motives for keeping me a prisoner in the home that is lawfully mine—even in the event of my husband's being no longer alive." Sybil, as I will call her, was about to continue her narrative when there came a slight tap at the door. "Who is there?" called out Marion, warily. "It's me, jnum—Vincent," replied the butler. "We can't, none of us. find any trace of that which you sent us to look for; and we've searched the house throughout. And now we want to know whether we shall search the grounds. .We don't all want to leave the house, in case that awful Thing should be hiding somewhere unbeknown. I only wish the master or Gustave was at home. What shall we do, mum?" Quickly crossing to the door, Marion opened it. "I think that you and Crump had better remain in the house, Vincent," she said. "And let Knowles call up the gardeners to help him search the grounds. There can't be too many of you to be a match for a madman."

'The man departed, and Marion, after relocking the door, returned to her seat. Then Sybil resumed her narrative. "To make my story quite clear I must go back to the time when I first met my husband in Naples—now more than live years ago.

"My name ,was then, Garello — Sybil Garello —and my father was an artist. Ho might have been famous, for he was greatly talented, had he kept away from the drink. But he never would.

"From quite a child I had always feared him; for he would often come home tipsy and knock mc about. My mother I cannot remember at all. 1 can only remember that my girlhood was as lonely, loveless, and unhappy as my childhood, had been. And because I was my father's daughter no decent people would associate with mo.

"One day, however—l remember it was on my twentieth birthday—two gentlemen came . home with my father, who had received a severe hurt in a drunken brawl, and. seeing how frightened I was at the idea of being left alone with him, they kindly offered to stay with me until he, my father, had quieted down a bit, for he was almost raving. "One of those gentlemen was the artist, Lawrence Dacre, whose picture was just then the talk of Rome. The other was a Mr Henry Darrell, also something of an artist, although he was not obliged to follow his tastes altogether as a profession—being in receipt of an allowance from a rich maiden aunt, whose heir he was.

"At the time when he first became acquainted with us, however, lie was in somewhat poor circumstances, for he had lost nearly a year's allowance at the gaming tables at Monte Carlo before coming to Naples. He did not want his aunt to know of his folly, and sooner than ask her for a loan he set to work as a portrait painter in order to gain a livelihood.

"He told us of his circumstances, and Mr Dacre did everything in his power to help him.

"Many and many a time I sat as a model to Mr Darrell. And so wo grew to love each other, finally becoming betrothed. "lie was the most perfect and chivalrous gentleman that one could wish to meet. Had you known him you could never make so great an error as to confound him with his brother. "Before Henry Darrell and I were married he told me something of his history.

"He was a twin, being one nour older than his brother. And when the two of (hem were christened, at the whimsical request of their joint godmother and aunt, Miss Darrell, the babies were respectively named Henry and Harry, Henry being the elder.

"The mother of (lie boys died when they were infants, and Hie fattier—■ Miss Darrell's only brother—two years after his wife. Consequently, the aunt look charge of her twin nephews and brought them up ami educated them. "Although so closely related. Hie two boys were as unlike in disposition as possible. I gathered this much from my own observations during my lover's I'ocital, aud from various

(All Rights Reserved)

BY CECILE V. SAYER.

Author of "Kindred Souls," "The Folly cf Ludley Vere," "Another Man's Shoes," etc.

(To ne continued to-morrow)

letters which he allowed me to peruse, and which he had received from his aunt during his school-days. "When the brothers attained their majority, the elder received a communication from his aunt to the effect that she had made her will, and had left everything to him, with the exception of a small yearly allowance to his brother. At Henry's death the property was to descend to his wife and her issue for ever. Rut, in the event of his dying unmarried, the property was to revert to the younger brother, Harry', whom, in spite of her endeavours to like, the poor old lady cordially detested. "The brothers were never on good terms, and kept well out -Of each other's way. To a man of my lover's temperament, the petty, unprincipled nature of the other must have been Hcyond comprehension, although va looks one would scarcely know them apart."

There was a slight pause here in Sybil's story, and I stole a glance at Marion; for I knew that it must hurt her to hear her one-time idol spoken of so scathingly. It was easy enough now to understand how it was that Lawrence Dacro and Slgnor Pranzinni and his daughter had been so puzzled at the supposed change in the man they had once thought so highly of. "Well," continued Sjibil, after a brief space. " Henry and I were finally married at the Church of St. Francesco di Paolo, Naples. Mr Dacre was present at the ceremony. "He started off: to Cairo for our honeymoon as happy a couple as ever trod the earth. " Alas I little did I dream how soon my happiness was to be torn away from me.

" We reached Cairo and took rooms at the 'Mena House Hotel,' and that calls to my mind, Miss Sylvester, something that has been puzzling me for the last quarter of an hour. Did I meet you there, one afternoon, in the verandah of the hotel? Your face seems vaguely familiar."

" Yes, it was I," I rejoined, somewhat nervously; for knowing her disposition so well, I felt uncomfortable as to how Marion would take this admission. " I remember the occasion quite well. Indeed, it flashed across my mind when my friend he<re, first introduced me to her husband. I fancied then that he and I had met before; but you will readily understand why I did not mention the matter to Mrs Danrell, believing, as I have done for so long, that her husband was also yours." " And you kept that supposition from me all this time, Carmen?" reproachfully remarked Marion.

I crossed over to where she sat, and kneeling beside her I drew her head down until my lips were on a level with her ear, and whispered, " I kept the secret in the hope of sparing you pain, my darling—for I knew how well you loved ham."

And then, once again, Sybil resumed her story. " We met many nice people there at the hotel. Among them was a certain Signor Franzini and his daughter, who was a widow, and one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. "We were a great deal together, she and I, and, finally, she commissioned Henry to paint her portrait, having ascertained something of our financial circumstanocs.

" The work was really a masterpiece and Mrs Trevor, my new friend, paid him handsomely for it. I remember Henry laughing at the time when she handed him the cheque, and saying he should only look upon it as a loan, as he -should have plenty wherewith to repay it some day. " And then lie wrote to his aunt telling her of our marriage.

" The letter had only been posted a couple of days when we received news of the poor old lady's death. My husband was terribly distressed, and we lost no time in starting for England.

" I will not go into the details of our journey home. When our train reached Charing Cross I caught sight of a gentleman standing on the platform, whom —had he -not been at my side at that moment —I could have sworn was my husband. " I drew the latter's attention' to thefact.

"' By Jove!' he said, ' I thought as much. It's my brother Harry. Come along, darling; I shall have to introduce you.' "As Harry Darrell caught sight of us, and advanced to meet us with a very visible sneer on his otherwise faultless face, I took an instinctive dislike to him.

"After distantly greeting his brother, he turned to me. ' Er—you* wife, I presume—Mrs Henry Darrell? Delighted to make your acquaintance.' "He offered three lingers of his hand in a condescending soirt of way. which, however, I did not take, merely bowing in response to his salutation. I noticed that he did not once lo'ok at me while he- was speaking. " His manner of greeting me appeared to upset my husband, and there was an angry look about his usually pleasant face.

•' I look the liberty of opening your communication to our late respected aunt,' remarked Henry's brother. ' So, you see, that is how 1 came to know or your marriage. I was with the old lady when she died. Of course, the contents of her will were made known to you on the day we came of age. You come in for everything, as you're aW are—saving a paltry annual allowance to me. You alwajjs were more lucky than I,' he added bitterly. 'However you're in harness, and I'm not. Makes a little difference, does it not? 1 don't suppose I shall ever marry.'