The Mysterious Stranger

Waikato Times, Volume 120, Issue 20889, 22 August 1939, Page 8

The Mysterious Stranger

SERIAL STORY

By H. S. SARBERT

SYNOPSIS At the county ball Eileen Stanhope meets Paul Standish—a good-looking, mysterious stranger whom no one Knows much about. He tells Eileeu that he is the owner or uelevue, aa old castle on the wildest part or the coast of France. OHAPTEJR Xll.—Continued. Paul ; s Arrival As she spoke, the door was thrown open, and Paul Standish stood upon the threshold. Never had Jeanette seen him looking so handsome. His face was Pushed, and his eyes were sparkling as she had never seen them. He held out his arms. “My own sweet wife!” “What a surprise, Paul! And have you come really to stay this time?” “Not quite, little one. i have come to make a very important arrangement, and must return at midnight to-mor-row; but only for a day or two, after which 1 will shut up Bellevue, and come and live here with you as lung as ever you please.” It seemed 100 good to be true, and Eileen clung to her husband in an ecstasy of happiness. “And then you will tell me ” she began. “1 will tell you and Mrs Pentium! everything when i return.” And lie kissed her fondly. It had been for some time arranged that they were to be present the following evening at the first representation of a new piece at the Fruncais, and Lord Moorfield and Dahlia had premised to join them. Standish would not hear of any change in their plans, and, in-deed, declared that he would come also and see the first act on Eiis way to the railway station. This he accordingly did. The house was very full, and Jeanette observed the Due dc la Fontaine, with some other gentlemen, in the box immediately opposite their's. She was watching him, and it -was just when Standish leant forward to speak to Lady MoorfTeld and wish her goodbye that she saw the Due start violently, and then take up his lorgnettes and fix them upon the Standish's box. “I can't stay to see the end of this act,” said Standish, looking at his watch. “‘I must not miss this last train. In three days, my Eileen, I shall return, and for ever.” Jeanette heard his low, fond goodbye, and noticed how happy (Eileen was looking at his last words. Not long after he had gone, the curtain fell, and in another few moments the Due de la Fontaine and some other gentlemen entered the box. “You had a remarkably handsome man here just now,” said the Due to Jeanette, as he seated himself near her, for Eileen was busy talking 1 to one of the other gentlemen. “Y r es; that was Mr Standish,” she replied. “Mr Standish!—-that—that person who was with you just now? And where has he gone?” Something in the tone of his voice gave Jeanette a strange inexplicable feeling, and she answered, coldly. “He only came in for a few moments. He had to return to the country on business.” “To Bellevue?’ “No,” she answered, and for the life of her could not say why she told a lie. He said no more, and presently, with a slight apology, left the box. When Jeanette and Eileen reached home, a letter was put into Eileen’s hands. The handwriting was that of the Due de la Fontaine, and ran as follows:

“Long ago, I told you I lived but for revenge. 1 was then a more morose man than 1 am now, and your gentle presence and sweet, blameless life has done much to sweeten my embittered existence. ■Meeting you once again has been an intense pleasure to me. But there is such a thing as justice, and I cannot forget that my child, my poor Clarette, was cruelly murdered by tlie man she loved, and for whom she sacrificed everything. Eileen, forgive me for the pain I am about to cause you, but it must be done. The portrait I enclose is that of the murderer of my child.” She opened the enclosure nervously, looked at the phonograph, then passed her hand over her eyes, and looked again. What could it —what did it mean? It was the portrait of Pauli CHAPTER XIII. Eileen stood for a few moments looking as though her senses had forsaken her, her hands tightly locked and her eyes fixed in a stony stare. The unknown horror which she had for so long dreaded was upon her It was terrible to see the agony on her young face. “Jeanette,” she said, laying her hand upon tier godmother’s arm, and speaking- in a low, clear, rapid voice, “there is no time to lose, but just look—look at this.” <lie pointed to the photograph she held. Underneath the portrait was written, “Juan Gomez, the murderer of my daughter, Clarette Yignon.” “Do you see this, Jeanette?” And there was a world of anguish in her voice. “Do they dare to say that my Paul, my husband, is a—a murderer? Oh, my God! it is impossible. I will never, never believe it. Perhaps he has known the perpetrator of this dreadful deed; he may even have assisted the wretched being to escape; but he, my noble Paul, a common felon! Oh, no! No! tell me, Jeanette, you don't believe this foul, this cruel slander ?” "No, indeed, my poor child; but the Due de la Fontaine will not believe us; he will track your poor Paul, and bring him to justice.” Eileen’s Faith “But he is innocent,” said Eileen, passionately. "I would stake my life on his innocence. Had he been guilty, would lie have dared to show himself in the world? But I must go to him. 1 must show him this cruel picture. He must not meet this trouble alone. There is a love, Jeanette, which can bear all, forgive all, a love as strong as death, which rises above everything. lie is dearer to me in his sorrow and his misfortune than in our happiest hours.” "And what; can you do?” Jeanette asked. “Go to him at once. Listen, Jeanette! There is a train which goes at daybreak; 1 should arrive at Bellevue in the evening. The Due—if he is going to pursue him—l mean, if—if—oil! it seems too dreadful —if he is going to bring him to justice on this terrible charge, must first get a war-

rant for his arrest. This will all take time; he can’t be at Bellevue before the following evening. By that time, please God, Paul can be far, far "He asked me if Mr Standish had gone to Bellevue,” said Jeanette. “He did! and what did you say?” “I said no. 1 don't know what made me do so—something strange in his manner when he asked about him.” “But he would not believe you,” said Eileen. “He is certain to go i there. Now, Jeanette, came and help i me. See, it is now two o'clock; the j train starts at six. You will remain i here and take care of my darling boy, i and to any inquiring friends say that I shall be back again in a couple of days.” Jeanette looked at her in wonder. > All signs of agitation had passed, and in every arrangement she made she ; displayed a coolness that was quite surprising. Jeanette accompanied . her to the railway station, and as she » bent over to press a farewell kiss on 1 her brow, she observed a spasm of r pain cross her beloved face. “Pray for us,” she whispered, as I she convulsively clasped Jeanette’s t hand, “and never believe him guilty. L Hu may have been foolish, indiscreet; lie may have erred on the side of I generosity, but guilty lie lias never . been!” Jeanette returned home with a [ heavy heart. Appearances were certainly against Standish, and the more she thought over the matter the more difficult she found it to understand [ how he was to prove himself an innocent man. What a long day it was for Eileen. The last time she had made the journey from Paris, it was on her return from her long honeymoon; Paul was by her side, and she was looking forward with eager curiosity to the sight of her future home. The journey now seemed intolerable, , never ending, and it was with a deep sigh of relief that she at last saw the little wayside station where she left the train. The station-master, recognising her, 10-oked at her with surprise, and was most voluble in his inquiries. ■Monsieur Standish had only arrived that morning. ‘lie had said nothing about the coming of madame; there was no car from Bellevue. “No,” said Eileen, wearily, “Monsieur does not expect me; but I have come on a matter of importance. I wonder, Monsieur Moreno, if you could get me a conveyance of any sort, no matter what?” "Ah!” Monsieur Moreno tapped his forehead with his fingers, “it is most fortunate. Old Brun, the farmer, from beyond Bellevue, is about to start homewards from the little inn in the village. I am sure that would feel highly honoured if madame would accept a seat in his little charrette.” He hurried off to make inquiries, and in a very few moments Eileen was seated by the farmer, and urging him to drive as quickly as possible. It was quite dark when they arrived at the great gates, where Eileen dismounted, pressing a coin into the good farmer's hand, with grateful thanks for his assistance. (To be continued)