(Published by Special Arrangement.) THE LADY FROM NOWHERE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIII, Issue IX, 26 August 1899, Page 3

(Published by Special Arrangement.) THE LADY FROM NOWHERE.

A DETECTIVE STOHY.

By

FERGUS HUME.

Author of The Mystery of a Hansom Cab,’ The Third Volume,’ ‘For the Defence.* The Lone Inn,’ ic., Ac.

CHAPTER XIX. THE UNEXPECTED OCCURS. tiebb found it impossible to discover the owner of that third-class railway ticket. He went himself to Xorminster to find out, if possible, to whom it had been issued, but all in vain. The station-master had taken another situation in Scotland, the ticket elerk was absent on his annual holidays, and none of* jthe porters could remember any particular person who had gone up to London on that particular day. On the whole, circumstances seemed to be against Gebb in following this clue u and after several vain attempts he gave it up, at all events for the present. This he confessed to Parge, who at once reproved him for faintheartedness, and preached a lengthy sermon on the folly of being discouraged. •You don't expect roast ducks to fly into your mouth, do you?' said Parge indignantly. ‘Of course, it is no easy task to hunt down a criminal. We’d have all the bad ’uns in gaol if such was the case. Y'ou’ve only been a week looking after this ticket business, yet you shy off just because you can’t find out about it straight away. You never were a detective, Absalom, and vou never will be.’

’But just look here.’ cried the badgered Absalom. "What can I do. I’ve been — ; —’ ’I know where you've been — to Norminster.’ growled Parge, ‘and 1 know what you've done — nothing. Y’ou think I’m past work. 1 saw that the other day. Well, from nat’ral infirmity, or too much fat. so 1 am: but in nowis? else. Absalom, so don’t you believe it. If I was in your shoes, which 1 ain’t. I’d write up to that stationmaster in Scotland, and ask him if he knows of any partic’ler person as left Norminster on that day. It ain’t a big place, and if he's a sharp one he might remember.’

‘l’ve written to the stationmaster, cried Gebb. crosslv.

‘Oh. have you!' returned Parge, rather disappointed. ‘Then I’ll be bound you don't know what you’re going to do about that ticket clerk.' ‘Yes. I do. I'm going to wait till he comes back, and then question him at once. In about a week I’ll know all those two know, though I dare say it won't be much. And look you here. Simon, 'cried Ji ebb. warming up, ‘it’s all very well your pitching into me over this ease, but is it an easy one? 'Cause if you say it is, it ain’t. I never in my born days came across such a corker of a case as this one. Who would have thought that Ferris and the girl would be mixed up in it?—yet they were. And who would have thought them guilty? Everybody! And were they guilty? You know they weren’t. Can you find Dean? No. you can't, though you tried yourself when his trail was still fresh, 'then how the devil do you expect me to find him after all these years? It's very easy to sit in your chair and pick holes. Simon, but when you come to work the case for yourself, you'll be as up a tree as I am at this blessed moment.' ‘I don't deny that the case is hard. Absalom.' •Hard!' echo d Gebb with scorn: ‘it's the most unnat'ral case as ever was. I've only got one blessed clue after all my hard work, ami that’s the railway ticket: which, so far as I can see. is about as much good as a clock would be to a baby.’ ‘Why don’t you question Mrs Presk ?’ ‘I have questioned her. and the servant too; and beyond the ticket, she don’t know - a blessed thing.’

'Can’t Basson help you, or Mr Alder, or Mr Ferris?' No! none of the three; they don't know who killed Miss Gilmar." and if it comes to a point, Simon. I don’t see why they should know.’ ‘lt is queer that the lot of them, including the girl, should have been in Grangebury on the very night of the murder,’ said Parge, with a musing air.

‘lt’s a coincidence, that's all.’ retorted Gebb, ’and you know very well in our profession there's no end of coincidences, though if you write them in a book people tell you they're impossible. Y’ou can't accuse any one of the three of killing the old woman, as they were all in the lecture hall the whole evening. Y’ou know all about Ferris, and Miss Wedderburn; well, it couldn't have been them. Mr. Basson was lecturing: it could'nt have been him. Mr Alder was looking after the money and the house, so as to get plenty of eash in for his friend, so it couldn't have been him. If not them, who is guilty?' 'Well. Dean must' lie the criminal.' 'I don’t believe it.' replied Gebb. obstinately. ‘And if he is. he'll not lx* hanged: for Old Nick himself couldn't hunt him out. By the way. Simon, what kind of a man was he to look at: to the naked eye. so to speak ?’

'I don't know what like he’ll be now.’ replied Parge, briskly, 'but he was uncommonly good-looking in the dock. I can tell you. Just the man to take a woman’s fancy. Tall and dark, and smiling.’ ■Any particular mark?' asked Gebb. professionally. ’Well, he wasn't scarred or scratched in any way that I know of,’ replied Parge, reflectively, ‘but he had a frown.’

'Get along! Everyone's got a frown.' said Gebb, in a disgusted tone.

•Not of his sort,' was Parge's answer. ‘Since sitting here. Absalom, I've been reading a heap of books 1 never read before. Amongst others one called “Redgauutlet," by a baronet. Sir Walter Scott. Know it?' ‘No, I don't. What has it got to do with Dean?’

‘There was a fellow in it.’ said Parge, following his own reflections, ‘as had a horseshoe mark over his nose when he frowned. Quite queer it was.' ‘Must have been,' said Gebb, derisively, ‘and has Dean a horseshoe?' ‘No. But when he scowls, or frowns, like this,' here Parge made a hideous face, ‘he's got a queer mark, deep as a well and quite straight, between his eyebrows. I'd know him from among a thousand by it. Seems to cut his forehead in two like. If you see a man with a mark like that when he's in a rage. Absalom, just you nab him. for that's Dean.’

‘Stuff!' said Gebb, impatiently. ‘Lots of men wrinkle up into lines when they get out of temper. I've seen foreheads like Clapham Junction for lines.'

‘Not so deep." answered Parge, shaking his head, ‘and not so straight down between the eyes. Most men frown in lines which run across the forehead, when they raise their eyebrows like: but Dean draws everything up to a deep mark as dips just between the eyebrows and on to the nose. It's the queerest mark I ever saw; and whatever disguise he puts on he can't smooth that furrow off. A baby could tell him bv it.'

‘Hum!' said Gebb. who had l>een thinking. ‘Now you come to talk of it, Simon, that young Ferris has a mark like that; but not very deep.' ‘He's young yet. Absalom: but I daresay he takes after his father. Well, all 1 sav is that there's no other wav

in which you'll spot Dean. He may grow old. and white and shaky, or he may disguise himself in all kinds of nays, but he can't rub out that brand of Cain as Nature has set on him. I said it before, and I say it again.’ 'l'll look round for a 'man of that sort.' said Gebb. rising to take his leave, ‘but I can’t say I’ve much ho|x* of finding him. Dean's been lost for so long that I daresay he’s lost for ever. Well, good-bye. Simon. I won't see you for a day or two. There's heaps for me to do.’ ‘Where are you going?' grunted the fat man. 'l'm off to ask Mr Alder to let me search in Kirkstone Hall for that confession of Miss Gilmar's. Then I'm going down there to look it up.’ 'That won't do any good towards finding out who killed her,' said Parge, shaking his head. ‘I don’t know so much about that. Simon.’ replied Gebb. coolly. ‘1 wouldn’t be a bit surprised to find as the person who killed Kirkstone was someone quite different from those we suspect.’

‘lt must be either Miss G. or Miss K..' said Parge, ‘and knowing the truth about them won't help you to spot the assassin. Y’ou look for Dean first. Absalom, and leave the confession alone for a while.'

"No!’ replied Gebb, obstinately. ‘l'll look for the confession, and fly round afterwards for Dean. Y’ou let me negotiate the job in my own way, Simon.’

With this determination, of which Parge by no means approved, but was unable to hinder, Gebb went off to make his last venture in solving the mystery. By this time he was in a furious rage at his many failures, and swore under his breath that come what might he would hunt down and punish the unknown assassin of the wretched old woman who had been strangled in Paraise Row. He had three designs in his head, one of which he hoped might serve to attain the much-desired end. Firstly, he intended to search for the confession of Miss Gilmar. in the belief that it might throw some light on the later case. Secondly, he resolved to follow the due of the railway ticket, and learn who had come up from Norminster on that fatal night to visit Miss Gilmar. since such person —on the evidence of the ticket found in the Y’ellow Boudoir —was undoubtedly her murderer. Thirdly, he was bent upon making another search round the pawn-shop; to see if any of the other jewels taken from the body had been turned into money. The appearance of the necklace was accounted for by Edith, as she had received it from the old woman before the assassin had arrived: but the rings, bracelets, and hair ornaments were still missing. Sooner or later, in order to benefit by his crime, the murderer would seek to turn them into cash when he thought the storm had blown over. Then was the time to trace and capture him. The French have a proverb which runs in English ‘that nothing is certain But the unforeseen.' anti certainly Gebb proved the truth of this when he arrived at Aider's lodgings. As yet the barrister, pending the administration of the estate, had not moved from his rooms in the Temple; but he intended to do so shortly, and already had engaged handsome chambers in Half-moon-street. These, however, he was never destined to occupy, for on the very day Gebb called to see him he met with an accident which seemed likely to result in his death. As one pleasure to be gained from his riches Alder had purchased a horse, shortly after coming into his fortune, and every morning went riding in the Row. He was a good rider, but not

having indulged in the exercise for some years, by reason of his impecuniosity, he had lost a portion of his skill, with the result that the horse, a fiery animal with tricks of which Abler was ignorant. bolted unexpectedly. and threw his rider against the rails. Alder fell across them with such force that he had injured his spine, and now was lying in his rooms in a crippled condition. ‘Do vou think he’ll get over it?’ asked Gebb when Aider's servant was relating the occurrence.

‘No. sir.' answered the man. shaking his head. ‘The doctor says he’s bound to die sooner or later. The spine is injured, and my poor master can’t feel anything below his waist. It's death in life already, and the end is sure to come.’

‘Can I see him?’ asked the detective, after some thought. ‘No. sir, the doctor left word that he was to see no one.’

With this Gebb was forced to lie content: and as already he had obtained Aider’s permission to search the Hall, he went away rather low-spir-ited. It seemed hard that the man should come to an untimely end, just when he inherited his kingdom. Moreover, he had behaved very well in defending Ferris in the face of all evidence, and releasing him from prison; therefore Gebb thought it just as well to send a line to the artist and Edith, so that they might come forward in their turn to do what they could for the man who had acted so generously towards them both. ‘lt's hard lines.' said Gebb to him self when he had posted his letter. ‘I do call it hard. Alder gained a fortune. it is true; but he lost the woman he wished to marry, and now he loses his life. It's a queer world, that gives a man a pleasure only to take it away from him again. I don't understand the workings of Providence nohow.' With this philosophical reflection. Gebb went home to make his plans before going down to Norminster the next day. He had little hope of success, however, and now that Alder was dying he wondered if he did capture the murderer, if the reward would be paid to him. ■Of course it will.’ he said to himself on reflection, ‘for if Alder dies, Miss Wedderburn becomes mistress of the Hall.'

CHAPTER XX. A NEEDLE IN A HAYSTACK

It was a bright and sunny day when Gebb found himself once more at Kirkstone Hall. In the sunshine the building looked grim and desolate. The smokeless chimneys, the closed doors, dusty windows, and grass-grown terraces, gave the place a forlorn and wretched aspect, and the absence of life, the silence broken only by the twittering of the birds, the neglected gardens, created, even to the detective’s prosaic mind, an atmosphere of menace and dread. It looked like a place with a history: and Gebb wondered if Miss Wedderburn, on becoming its mistress, would care to inhabit it again. ‘When she marries Ferris and begins a new life. I dare say she will seek some more cheerful abode.' he thought, as he stood on the terrace, and looked on the silent house. ’lt would be foolish for a young couple to dwell with the ghosts of the past. I am not imaginative myself, but I should not care to live here; no, not if the house was given to me rent free. If I were Miss Wedderburn I'd pull it

down and build a new place without a past or a ghost.' While Gebb soliloquised thus, he heard a hoarse voice in the distance, and saw Martin, spade on shoulder, passing across the lawn singing oue of his gruesome soogt. Evidently he had caught sight of the detective on the terrace, for not until he came towards him did he begin to sing. Then he danced grotesquely over the green turf, croaking his wild ditty, and looking a strange figure in the strong sunshine: yet not unsuited to the lonely place, with its grim associations: — When moon shines clear my shadow and I Dance in the silver light: When moon lies hid in a cloudy sky My shadow with her takes flight. And I remain, in the falling rain. Calling up on my shadow in vain: ■Oh. shadow dear. 1 wall you here. Alone in the lonely night-’ When he came close to Gebb he stopped his song and dance suddenly, and looked inquiringly at the detective with his head on one side. 'What do you want?" he croaked. ’There Js nothins here but death and misery.’ •I’ve come to look at the house. Martin. Can you show me over it?’ •No, no." said the gardener, shaking his head. ’I don’t walk through the valley of dry lones. If you sit in the Yellow Room you hear the dead tell secrets.’ •What kind of secrets?’ asked Gebb. humouring him. •How the sister killed the brother, and how she who killed them both laughed and laughed. But she died at last in deep despair When Satan caught her in his snare. Gebb looked fixedly at the man. He had been in the house at the time of the Kirkstone murder, so it might be that his poor wits retained a nseitiorv of the tragedy. Was it possible that light could oe thrown on its darkness by this madman? The detective asked himself that question once or twice, as he listened to the poor creature rambling on. how Laura had killed her brother at the instigation of Miss Gilmar. ’And is Mr Dean innocent?" he asked, suddenly. "God and his saints know that he had no hand in it,’ cried Martin, with a remarkably sane look on his face. ’A woman rpined one, a woman slew the other: and the poor soul lies in chains —in chains.' And he fell to weeping, as though his heart would break with sorrow and pain. ’I wonder if this is the truth.’ thought Gebb. 'Perhaps, after all. Laura did murder her brother, and Miss Gilmar to save her denounced Dean. But there is no sense to be got out of this lunatic: his evidence would not stand in a court of law. The only thing is to search for that confession. so the sooner I set to work the better. Martin.’ he said, aloud, 'can you show me over the house?’ ’Not II Not I! Ask old Jane. Come and I’ll take you to old Jane:’ and shouldering his spade again. Martin walked off rotund the corner of the terrace, singing— God is far away, alas! The Devil is beside us: And as we wander thro’ the world. He is the one to guide us.

He gives with grin, the ware of sin: And when lae fiend hath paid tas. We stand outside the srate of Hell. With Christ alone to aid us.

Old Jane proved to be a grim and elderly female in a rusty black dress anti a still rustier bonnet. She cann

out of a side door, and wiping her hands on a coarse apron, curtseyed tc Gebb. while Martin, introducing the pair with a regal wave of the hand, danced off round the corner.

•What may you be pleased to want?’ asked old Jane, when the scarecrow gardener had disappeared. ’I have received permission from Mr Alder to look over the house.’ re-

plied the detective, ‘and I wish you to show it to me.’ ’There ain’t much to see. sir.’ croak ed the ancient dame, fit’s all dust am l darkness. I doubt if my old legs would carrv me over it.’

"Oh. well. I can go by myself. Jane, said Gebb. cheerfully.

‘Mrs Grix. if you please.’ snapped Jane, indignantly. *1 only allows Miss Edith to call me by my first name. Poor, pretty dear, and she’s gone away for ever.’ ’I wouldn’t be too sure of that.’ rejoined Gebb. dryly. ’Mr Alder has met with an accident ami may die; in

which case Miss Wedderburn will return here as mistress.’ ’Mr Aider's ill. is he?* said Jane In no very regretful tone, ’and may die. Ah. well.' with a lachrymose whine, 'all flesh is grass, that it is; and if Miss Edith does come back 1 hope she'll shut up the Yeller Room.' ‘Eor what reason. Mrs Grix?’

•’Cause it’s haiwited by spirits.' replied Mrs Grix. with a mysterious look. ’l’ve heard 'the two of ’em quarrelling there.’

'Which two? What two?* asked Gebb. who began to think that the old lady had l>een at tbe bottle. ‘Miss Gilmar and the master: they 'aunts the Yeller Room and fights I knows it: ’cause I sleeps here all alone, save for Martin, as lives in the back part: an' I hears voices, that I do."

'I wonder you are not more afraid of that madman than of ghosts.' MrsGrixsmiled in a cunningand significant manner. Oh. I ain’t afraid of Martin, sir: no one as knows him fears him.’

’And why?’ asked Gebb. sharply. This question Mrs Grix did not choose to hear: but mumbling and shaking her old head, hobbled along the passages in the direction of th« Yellow Room. She ushered Gebb int< this with a chuckle, and threw open the shutters to let the sunlight shine on the faded and time-worn decorations of the room.

"I s’pose you’ll want to see this first.’ said Mrs Grix: most folks likes to see a room as a murder’s been done in. There's a stain of blood over in that corner: master’s blood —which Miss Gilmar would never let be wiped out- I dessay master comes and look at it. and wishes he had his body again. He was an awful bad one — and mean!’ Mrs Grix lifted up a pair of dirty and trembling hands. "They was both of 'em skinflints.’ said she with a nod.

'Whom are you speaking of. Mrs Grix?'

‘Of Miss Gilmar and Mr Kirkstone.

•Did you know them?’ ’Did I know them?’ echoed the hag. with scorn. ‘Of course I knowed them: and a bad lot the pair of ’em was. They give Miss Laurer a fine rime. I ean tell yon. T wonder she didn’t go off with Mr Dean. I do.' •Were yon here when the murder rook place?’ asked Gebb. ’Lor' bless yer ‘eart. I sawr the ’ole of it.’ croaked Mrs Grix. 'Master was a-Iying over there with a knife in his ’eart. and Miss Gilmar. she was ’ollering for the police.' 'Did Dean kill Kirkstone?* ’Ah. that’s telling!’ said Mrs Grix cunningly. 'Don’t you ask no questions. young man. and you won’t he rold no lies.’ ’You must tell me!’ cried Gebb. seizing her by the wrist. ’I am fron Scotland Yard: a detective.’ And he shook the beldame furiously. Mrs Grix raised a feeble wail of horror. ’Lor', you’re perlice. are you?’ she whimpered. ’Jist let me go: I know nothin’.’ 'Did Laura Kirkstone kill her bro ther?’ "1 dunno: I swear I dunno.’ ’Was Miss Gilmar the criminal?’ Mrs Grix leered. "She never told me -he was. sir. but she didn’t carry th< Yeller Room about with her for noth ing.’ ’tt hat do you mean?’ said Gebb. releasing her. Mrs Grix rubbed her wrist, which had been somewhat bruis.nl by his clasp, and leered again. ’Miss Gilmar wrote it ail down.' she said. ’A confession?" cried the detective. ‘I dunno what you call it. sir: but I know she wrote it down, ’cause she -aid to me. ’’lt’ll be all right when I’m •lead.” Well, she are dead.’ said Mrs Grix. 'and it ain’t all right, unless she left the writin’ behind her.’ ’Where is hat confession?’ ’I dunno. I wish I did. There’s money in it. I’ve hunted ail over the ’ouse. and I can’t come across it nohow ’Well. Mrs Grix. what is your opinion? Was it Dean, or Miss Gilmar. or Miss Laura who killed the man?’ •Yon look about for the paper, lovey.’ said Mrs Grix. coaxingiy. 'and it’ll tell you all.’ Yon tell me.’ ■Rut I don’t know for certain.'

'Never mind. W hat is your opinion?* "Will ye give me money for it?" "That depends upon votrr information.’

Then 1 sha'n’t tell ye,’ eried Mrs Grix. backing towards the door. 'You can look for w hat she wrote. 1 sha'n't ’elp you. Keep me fro' the work’ouse. and maybe I’ll tell ye summat to make you wink: but not now. not now. Old Jane Grix ain’t no fool, lovey. No. no!’ Gebb made a step forward to detain her. but Mrs Grix hobbled through the door and vanished in the darkness as mysteriously as any of the ghosts she had been talking about. At all events, when the detective slipped out of the Yellow Room and into the twilight of the passage his eyes were somewhat dazzled by the sunlight and glare of colour within, and he saw nothing for the moment. Mrs Grix was quicker on her old feet than he supposed, and in some way hobbled out of sight into one of the numerous passages. so that when Gebb’s eyes became accustomed to the gloom he did not know into which one she had gone. Also, he heard rapidly retreating footsteps—not the heavy hobble of the old woman. but rather the light, dancing step of Marrin. And as to confirm this impression, he beard the hoarse voice of the gardener singing one of his wild songs:

Lieht shall come but not from above. _i.»v shall come but not from tore. The clow of hell, the lust of hate Impatiently for these I wait.

'Ha!' said Gebb to himself, as he

hurried down the passage. 'Martin has been listening. I wonder why? I don't believe he is mad after all, for neither that old woman nor Miss Wedderburn is afraid of hint. He must br feigning madness for some reason. HL' cried the detective with a sudden start, 'can Martin be the murderer of *

Before he could finish the sentence he heard a series of piercing shrieks from Mrs Grix. and a hoarse growling from Martin. These noise* sounded far in the distance, and Gebb ran down the passage, through The sittingroom into which he had been shown by Miss Wedderburn on the occasion of his first visit, and on to the terrace. Here he saw Mrs Grix running from Martin, who was rushing after her with a furious face. Gebb stared, no: at the terrified old woman, who was hurrying towards him with wonderful activity for one of her years, but at Martin’s face. It wore’ a savage sccwL and there bet we-n the eyes was the deep mark spoken of by Page. ’Dean!' cried Gebb. thunderstruck. 'You are Dean!’ "Yes! yes!’ screeched Mrs Grix. getting behind Gebb: Tie’s Dean sure enough. He was going to kill me ‘cause 1 wanted to tell ye.’ Martin—or rather Dean— stopped when he heard his name, then turned, and leaping over the terrace, ran like a hare down the avenue. (To be continued.)