A COMPLEX CRIME

Waikato Times, Volume 98, Issue 15314, 15 August 1923, Page 3

A COMPLEX CRIME

(All nights Reserved)

BY CECILE V. SAYER. Author of "Kindred Souls," "The Foil y of Ludley Vere," "Another Man's Shoes," etc.

CHAPTER XXX.

I must have shot out of his arms when the attack was made, and it was a miracle that I had not sustained greater injuries. I tried lo pull myself together, with the intention of trying to grope my way to the hall door to call for help. And I then saw Sir Guy, by a superhuman effort, suddenly free himself from his assailant, and hurl hum, with all the force of his splendid strength, backwards.

THE LAST OF DARKLEIGH MANOR. In less time than it takes to relate I had alarmed the household. The dawn was just breaking when I had discovered the lire; and ere the sun had risen a small crowd of halfclad, frightened domestics were huddled tog-ether in the grounds watching the conflagration. There was no lire station within eight miles, and before the alarm could reach that quarter the whole of Darkleigh with its gruesome secrets might be burned to the ground. The unhappy wife of the real heir of Darkleigh stood, among the wondering servants, wL* stared at her in amazement. It was then that I noticed that neither Guslavc or his wife were among the group. They were evidently still in the house. The memory of my slain friend was uppermost in my mind, and, on the impulse, I rushed back into the burning building. In a frenzy I called upon the missing valet, beseeching him to aid mo in saving her body from the llames. If only Sir Guy Ormond would come! He, I knew, would sympathise with my desire, and would help me to attain it. I forgot everything then but tlic wish to deliver my dead friend from this tomb of lire. Even my own safety was forgotten, as I stumbled on, stupefied and half blinded by smoke, while the heat, -which gained in intensity every second, scorched and blistered my feet as I rushed recklessly onward, in my anxiety to reach the room where my lifeless friend lay. I gained the landing where I first noticed the smoke, and saw flames issuing from the bedroom which 1 had recently occupied. For an instant I paused, irresolute, as I caught sight of Gustave Delaine within. He was trying- to drag some object across the floor, and I called out to him. "I heard your request just now, Miss Sylvester," he remarked. "I'll do my best, for atonement's sake, to grant it, directly I have removed this beast—whom it would really be no crime to leave to her fate —out of harm's way." The beast to whim he referred was none other than the red haired woman, his wife. She was helplessly intoxicated, and had evidently found her way to my room, as she had done on a previous occasion, expecting mo to shield her there. It was a miracle that Sybil should have just managed to escape her clutches. She would have had a poor chance of saving her own !ife had her cruel gaoler happened to find her in my room. The valet had great difficulty in accomplishing his purpose, and just as he had gained the doorway, his wife —with an insane laugh wriggled away from his supporting arm, and darted back into the burning room. "Curse her!" exclaimed the enraged Gustave. "She can look out for herself now. I'm not going back after her if I know it. Look sharp, Miss Sylvester. My God! —see, there —the master's room is in a sheet cf flames. We can't venture now to save the already dead. We must save ourselves 1" As the words left his lips he made a dash for the staircase, whicn, although scarcely for smoke, had not yet caught lire. I was about to follow him when my eyes chanced upon a sight at the farther end of the coridor which kept, me rooted to the spot. For a moment I could not move had my life depended on my doing so. It was the madman! He had just issued from Darrell's room and in his arms he bore the dead body o.' his last -victim —Darrell himself. Catching sight of me, .he suddenly dropped his burden, and with a savage snarl sprang forwards to meet me. Realising my danger I prorated to descend the stairs, when the .-a e-jme a sudden strong current of air, which fanned the ravaging flames in the background into fiercer fury. The sparks flew into my eyes, already smarting with smoke and heat, and half swooning I staggered backwards, gasping for breath. I felt my senses S° ins - , A pair of strong arms suddenly raised me up, and a well-known, manly voice roused me into a new sense of what was happening. It was the voice of Sir Guy Ormond. "Miss Sylvester—Carmen—are you mad, to have risked your life like this? If I had not —my God!" He broke off suddenly, and his eyes opened wide in horror, gazing beyond me at something in the rear. 1 guessed that it was the madman, hut I could not speak, for the smoke had got into my lungs, and there was no lime for explanations, if we were going to get out of the building alive. Already the flames had completely enveloped the landing above, and the heat was something frightful. In a I very little while the stairs must give way. i Clasping me closely in his arms. | Sir Guy proceeded carefully to descend the stairs backwards. He evidently feared that the monster, standing but a few paces above, might prove a dangerous impediment to ou;' j escape. j The thought had scarcely entered i my mind when there came a sudden, | reeling sense of darkness —a plunge j through space—and a dull thud, fol- j lowed by an aching feeling in every i limb. " ! The denseness of the smoke —the i glare of the flames —am! the dull ach- I lug, experienced through my whole J body, completely numbed my fac- ! iillies. And when, after a few se- : conds, I arose from the hall floor ■■ (where 1 had fallen) bruised, shaken ami trembling in every limb, > looked vaguely round. The sight winch presented ilsi'li' to my stupefied vision brought iw. Willi wonderful quickness, lo "). sencs, and I then realised what liar caused my predicament. Scarcely half a dozen yards uw-O the- young baroneL lay. face upardupon the ground •<! Ihc hnu»in of Mr irc-asc, struggling furiously lo release himself noil. liiu iivu/.hM or; slaught of Han-ell's ferocious cap live, who was tearing savagely at Mlthroat. The brute had doubtless hurl.himself upon us as Sir Guy was irr 1 ins lii* way down the stairs, burden cil with my weigh!, and, Lherefo.i practically defenceless. I

I rushed forward, but before I could reach my rescuer's side a huge, flaming beam fell with a crash from the ceiling, and struck him to earth.

I tried with my feeble strength to move it, shrieking aloud the while for aid. I have a faint recollection of seeing a number of strange faces—men's faces —which appeared to be alt muddled up together, as in a dream. And when I regained consciousness I felt tiie fresh morning air blowing across my scorched and aching face, while lender hands —the hands of Sybil Darrell —ministered to my comfort.

I was lying upon a pile of rugs beyond reach of.the burning house. The lire engines were then in full play upon the Manor, but they had arrived too Into to save it from destruction.

I turned anxiously lo the tenderly watchful woman at my side. '"Sir Guy Ormond," I whispered. "Is —- is he safe?"

Tears rose lo the dark eyes which met my own as I asked the question. And Sybil's lips quivered as she replied, "Yes—he is safe—in a measure. The firemen rescued you both at the last. And, fortunately, the man whom you had sent to Ilklcy for a doctor returned with. him. lie says that Sir Guy may live, but that ho will be a cripple all his life. He has sustained injuries to the spine, and his poo r face is quite disfigured by burns. Oh"—covering her face with her hands—"what a terrible night this has been!"

For an instant I made no reply. My heart was too utterly crushed with sorrow. Marion dead—murdered. And the luckless young fellow who loved me—"not wisely but too well" i—a cripple for life —so the doctor had said—and through me. What would Iris mother say? That sweet mother of his, who, an invalid herself, had taken such pride in the splendid health and strength of her only son. The drift of my thoughts was just then disturbed by a shout from several throats. And, half raising my self from my recumbent position, I looked towards what remained of Darkleigh Manor. As I did so, a wild stream of light shot upwards. And as the flames leaped and darted in the wind, an eerie and awful sight was presented to view.

Before the blazing ruin, reckless of danger, leaped and yelled the mad captive of Darkleigh, looking more like a fiend dancing round an inferno than a human being. "It's Old Nick, himself!" I heard one njan say.

Scarcely were the words uttered when the maniac, flinging his arms aloft in a frenzy of demoniac fury, suddenly leaped into the very heart of the lire.

A breathless silence fell upon the group of awed spectators. The fireman, who bad before spoken, exclaimed —I guess he's gone into his natural sphere, there. Who —what —in the name of all that's horrible —was that fearful object?" (To do continued to-morrow).