Complete Story. The Tale of the Young Couple.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIX, Issue XIII, 27 September 1902, Page 777

Complete Story. The Tale of the Young Couple.

From the '* Pictorial Magazine."

They had arrived from the Continent and were evidently upon their honeymoon. The husband gave his name as Captain Maurice Eckstein, and was an extremely handsome young man, whilst “Madame,” his wife, was a charmingly pretty girl apparently not a day more than twenty-one. They ■were both so gen* uinely attached to one another and so completely happy that I own I felt a good deal of pleasure in watching them. “We are thinking of making a long stay in your city, Mr. Matheson,” said young Eckstein, a week after their arrival, “so are going to take a small house. We have come to the conclusion that, at present, England is a more desirable place than our own native land,” he said, shooting a glance at his pretty young wife. At their request I gave them the names of several house agents, and they set forth on their, search. In a day or so they came back with the news they had discovered a “lovely little house” in Atchester Avenue, Kensington.

Henceforth they were very busy. The house was empty and was to be done up; they had a key and visited it all hours of the day, making wonderful arrangements.

It was a few days afterwards that I made my discovery. Early in the morning I had paid a visit to a wine merchant’s to give some orders. JThe office was situated in a little street turning- off from the big- avenue in which the Mammoth stood, and the entrance was the first doorway round the' corner. Having- concluded my business, I emerged, and was standing in the passage lighting a cigarette. As I did so, I noticed a tall dark man with a beard on the pavement in front of me; by his side was a hand some-looking woman, exquisitely dressed. The man had taken hold of her arm, and apparently drawn her into the little street. They were staring across to the other side of the avenue.

“Stay here a moment —till they get safely past!” the man said, in a low. warning voice. “I told you Hensch had found them- —see, how they walk together—she, smiling and laughing!" I followed the direction of the man’s gaze, and gave an involuntary start. Captain Maurice Eckstein and his wife were walking quickly on the other side of the avenue in the direction of the Mammoth. I looked at the man and woman in front of me—they were quite unaware of my close proximity. The man was staring at the young couple, a curious look of malignity in his eyes. The woman's face, too, was drawn and white, and her lips were pressed tightly together. “And he scorned what 1 offered him!” she said, her eyes blazing with hatred. “Gave it up for a slip of a girl like that!” “And she has set my honour at defiance!” said the man between his set teeth. “I swear that before a year is out, she ...” he dropped his voice and I could not catch what he said. They moved away and 1 was‘left in the doorway bewildered at what 1 had heard. I returned to the Mammoth and found young Eckstein making enquiries about the key of his new house. He thought he had left it in the pocket of his light dustcoat, which he had brought, down before breakfast and hung up in the cloakroom. As he was speaking ii clerk came out of the office and gave it to him. It had been picked up in the cloak-room by another visitor at the hotel, who had brought it to the office. “Who was it?” enquired young Eckstein.

The clerk caught sight of a man coming towards them. “A Mr. Hensch—this gentleman!” be said, indicating the new arrival. I almost uttered an exclamation as I heard the name. Eckstein turned to the man, and going up to him thanked him politely for the trouble he had taken. I looked curiously at the man. He was thick set, rather short, with swarthy features -and alert little ■beady eyes. I remembered he had arrived at the hotel about three days before, but had paid no particular attention to his name. I wanted to speak to Eckstein at once, but, at that moment, I was called away on a matter of importance, and, when I returned, both the captain and his wife had departed, and I caught sight of Hensch disappearing in the direction of a. smoking-room. The incident of the key in connection with what I had overheard in the street was certainly very curious, and I began to feci the mystery deepening. I decided to go up to nayroom in order to think what I had better do. On my way I caught sight of a tall man standing- in the vestibule. His name was Nathaniel Robson, and although very few were aware of the fact, he was connected in an official way with the Mammoth—in short, he was a remarkably astute private detective, and had frequently been of great assistance to me. I took him up to my room, and, shutting the door, told him the whole of the circumstances. “What do you think of it?” I asked at the conclusion. He stroked his chin.

“It looks ugly. The fact of this man being posted here shows that business is meant. Do you want me to look into it?” he added, rising-. “Yes—the Mammoth can’t afford to have sensations,” I answered. He departed and I did not see him again until the evening-. The first thing he did was to pu’ll out a newspaper from his pocket. I glanced at it and found it was one published in Austria. He showed me a marked paragraph. “The result of five hours’ hard searching in the office!” he explained. I looked at it and read the paragraph out. “ ‘We learn on good authority of a scandal that has recently occurred in one of the highest and most noble of our families. It appears that the youngest daughter, unwillingly betrothed by her father to a gentieman of rank and great wealth, has eloped with a young- officer with whom she had a clandestine love affair. The story has been kept a great secret, and names of course cannot be mentioned. but it is believed that up to the present all efforts to trace the runaways have been unsuccessful.” “It might be only a coincidence!” 1 said, laying the paper down. “1 think not!” he said. “I have had Hensch shadowed to-day, and made some interesting discoveries. The man you saw ill the street is Baron .Brims Hapmarck. and he is staying at the Grandal. lie comes from Austria, is n person of rank and immense wealth, awl was recently betrothed to Stephanie, the youngest. daughter of Count Alexander Von Halzberg. of Halzberg Castle—the head of one of the highest and most noble of Austrian families!" I uttered an exclamation. “You’re right, Hobson. Her name is Stephanie. I’ve hoard Eckstein address her!” I cried. “And the woman— ?" “She is also at the Grandal, and goes by the name of the Countess Theresa Larmaux —I’ve not been able to find out anything about her yet,

but am making enquiries in Vienna and Paris.” “But what does it all mean? Assuming that the young people have eloped and married, what eau the Baron do—what’s his game?”

“He is a man of a brute nature, and had set his heart on marrying this beautiful young girl!” replied Robson. “Her father, though noble, is poor, and probably in the Baron's power—he had promised her to him. Now she has escaped his clutches and he'has followed her. It may be revenge—it may be some desperate, plan to secure her after all. For the present we can only watch and wait.” “And the key of the new house?” He shook his head. “I cannot see that part of it yet!” I decided to tell young- Eckstein the next morning but, being called away suddenly to attend a meeting of the directors, I missed the opportunity. I was not free, until after lunch, then I caught sight of the young captain and his wife and Hensch coming from the restaurant together. Eckstein looked heavy eyed, and his wife glanced at him ly“I do not like going- without you, Maurice, dear. It seems so selfish!” she said with a sympathetic smile. I -learnt that he had a bad headache and that they had arauged to go to hear a celebrated violinist at Queen’s Hall. His wife was passionately devoted to music and he wished her to go though he could not do so himseif. Accordingly, after a lot of persuasion, she set off by herself, and Eckstein turned into a smokingroom. I thought this would be my opportunity, so went into the bureau until Hensch should be but of the. way. Presently he sauntered out of the hotel, and 1 noticed Robson follow him. Fate, however, seemed against my telling Eckstein of my discovery, for again an important matter detained me, and nearly three-quarters of an hour elapsed before I could go in search of him. I found him in the vestibule with his hat on—reading- a note which a messenger boy had brought him. A look of perplexity was on his face as he scanned the contents. He turned to me. “I have to go out. Mr. Matheson!” he said hurriedly. “If my wife should happen to return before I do, would you kindly tell her that I have been called away. Thank yon so much!” And before I could stop him he had hurried away. Shortly after five “Madame” returned. She asked me where her husband was and 1 gave her the message. “Called away?’’ she repeated ironderingly. ‘-I did not know he had any friends in London! Never mind, he will be in again soon!" she added,

with a bright smile. “I will have some tea and wait.” She went upstairs to her room, and I returned to the vestibule. At that moment I shw a cab draw up and Robson jumped out. I could sea something had happened, so took him at once to a little office on the ground floor which was empty. “Has Madame Eckstein returned?” he asked, hurriedly. • “Yes—she wondered at her husband’s absence. A messenger brought a note this afternoon, and he went off in a great hurry. He told me tie was called away.” lie uttered an exclamation. “By heavens, then, he has been trapped!” he cried. “There's not a moment to lose. Do you know the address of the new house?” he inquired feverishly. “Yes—l 7 Atchester Avenue, Kensington!" I cried wonderingly. Already he had opened the door. “It may be a matter of life and death to him. Will you come? I must have someone with me!” I picked up my hat. “Yes—l’ll come!” I cried. The mystery had caught hold of me, and my blood was stirred at the thought of an adventure. Vie made our way out, and jumped into the cab that was still waiting. Whilst we were being- driven to Atchester Avenue. Robson told me the gist of what had happened in the afternoon. “I followed Hensch from here; first he went to a messenger office and sent a message—probably the one to Eckstein—also another to someone else. Then he went to Queen’s Hull, where ’Madame’ was. He stopped there an hour, then came out and walked in the direction of the Grandel. He waited fdy some time outside—about a hundred yards away from the entrance, until, to my astonishment, young Eckstein came down the steps. Hensch crossed hurriedly and ran after him—l followed. 1 managed to get in such a position that I could hear and not be seen. Hensch said it was luck his meetinghint. he had been to Queen’s Hall and was returning to the Mammoth with a message from his wife. After the concert she was going to the new house, would he, Eckstein, follow her. if he felt well enough? She thought, perhaps, the fresh aitmight do him good!” “And she sent no such message it was a ruse?” I cried. “Yes.” continued Robson. “Young Eckstein thanked Hensch. jumped info a cab, and was driven away. I would have followed, but there was ■ no second cab. Then I realised that I did not know the address of the new house, so came along al once

to you at the Mammoth. Pray Heaven we get there in time.” “Why, what do you think ean have happened?” I cried. Hobson shrugged his shoulders. “One can’t tell! But think of the circumstances—an empty house —the man lured there by a lie—and a man who is thirsting for revenge! And a clever scoundrel into the bargain!”

He relapsed into silence, and I could see he was thinking hard. At tarst the cab turned into a secluded little avenue; it seemed strangely quiet after the noise and bustle of the High Street. “This is Atchester Avenue,” said Hobson briefly. He lifted the trap in the roof and told the man to stop. “We will walk to the house —it will attract less attention.”

No. 17 stood away from the road, and the tall trees in the front garden hid the house. As we walked up the path, however, it came in view—a dis-mal-looking place in its present uninhabited state.

Robson led the way to the tradesmen’s entrance: next to it was a window with the blinds up. showing the interior of an empty kitchen. The detective produced a knife and deftly slipped the catch back with the blade. Then he pushed it up and we scrambled in. Stealthily we crept across the room and out into a dark passage. Robson stopped and listened. There was not a sound to be heard. “I think they have gone. Let’s hope it is not too late.” He slipped his hand into his back pocket, and I saw the shining barrel of a revolver. We made our way up to the first floor, on a level with the hall door. There was still no sound or sign of life. Then we went up another flight of stairs. Some workmen’s tools were on the. landing. All the doors to the rooms were open with the exception of one. Robson glanced at it, then uttered an exclamation. “The keyhole!” he cried, in a low voice. I looked and saw it was plastered over with a piece of brown paper. Robson pulled it off with his fingers. Immediately 1 was conscious of a strong smell. “Charcoal!” cried Robson, excitedly. “Quick, put your shoulder to it—now with me.” We flung ourselves against the door with all our force; it yielded with a crash, and we went reeling into the The atmosphere was stifling. I saw Robs;.a plunge across the floor to the window, pull open a shutter, and smash in a pane of glass. The next moment I felt the cool evening air enter the room. To pull open the remaining shutter was only the work of a mowert. Then we looked round. In the middle of the room was a workman's large brazier filled with burning charcoal, its bright red embers throwing a dull red glow round the room. Quite nedr was stretched the uncons'dous form of a man; one gin nee showed us it was young Maurice Eckstein. Together we hauled him to the window. undid his collar and let him breathe the fresh air. Then Robson ran front the room and a minute later returned with a tin full of water. This he dashed into the man’s face, whilst 1 worked his arms. At the end of two minutes he opened his eyes. I gave a gasp of relief. “Wlat’s tin matter?” he said, sleepily. We caught him by both arr and marched him up and down the >m; he was as a dead log at first, tl i at last life came into his legs. V let go of him and he stood befo us looking like a drunken man. I; son dashed more water into his ,i«e. Eckstein looked round the roon nd it all came back to him. “Ami they left me here to be •■- thered by e.liarcO'd—the scoundre • ’ be cried. “Yes, yes- hut. who? Tell me all about it!” cried Robson impatiently. Gradually we got the story from him. After meeting Hensch he had driven to the empty house, wondering somewhat at his wife choosing Buch a time for her visit. She ha* the key, and he found the front door ajar. He concluded, therefore, she

was inside. He walked into the hall and called out her name. Getting no response he made his way up to the first floor. As he looked into one of the rooms he heard a slight noise behind him, and the next .moment felt himself gripped by the arms. He struggled violently, and recognised one of his assailants. “The Baron Julius Hapmarck,” put in Robson. “Yes, it was he,” continued Eckstein, surprised. “I managed to catch him by the throat. Then the other man hit me a terrific blow on the head which stunned me. The next thing I remember is your waking me up a few minutes ago.” Robson looked round the room. Every chink had been carefully plastered up. “And the workman’s brazier already there—it was devilishly well arranged!” he observed. “But I don’t understand!” cried Eckstein,.bewildered. “How on esrth you two managed to arrive just in the nick of time?” Robson told him the whole story. “We haven’t got quite to the end of it yet!” he continued. “Whom was it you w-ent to see at the Grandel this afternoon?” “The letter said an old friend was in great trouble, and would I spare half an hour,” said Eckstein. “When 1 got there I found the Countess Theresa Larmaux. It was a trick!” Robson looked at him narrowly. “Were you ever in love with the Countess?” he said. Eckstein shook his head decisively. “No. Once, a long time ago, I had a hunting accident near her house, and was carried there, where I stopped for some weeks. I think she was in love with me, but I never gave her the slightest sign. In fact, afterwards, I had to avoid her.” “You refused her overtures?” said Robson. “Yes—she offered me many inducements, but, you see,l was in love with my present wife!” he said proudly. We all three made our way slowly down to the next floor. Suddenly Robson touched us both and put a warning finger to his lips. I listened intently, then heard a slight sound on the steps outside the front door. The detective stepped lightly into the room on the left of the hall and we followed. Then we heard the sound of a key being put into the door and a man entering—only one apparently. He shut the door carefully behind him and took a few steps down the hall. Robson slipped his hand into his pocket, withdrew it, then, the next moment, flung the door wide open. A short man in the hall dropped back a pace and his hand flew to his pocket.. “No, not that, please, Mr Hensch!” said Robson, covering him with his revolver. Hensch’s hand dropped tremblingly to his side. He caught sight of Eckstein and his face went pale with fright. “The game’s up, my man!” said Robson. “You’d better make the best of a bad job. Come in here and stand there against the wall!” Hensch, with the revolver still pointing at him, obeyed. “Now, continued the detective, in a tone of evident enjoyment, “we will hear the whole of the story, if you please, Mr Hensch?” The story' that followed made young Eckstein’s hands clench, and he was for running the baron to earth there and then. However, the counsel of Rolbson and myself prevailed, ami it ended with my going with the captain back to the Mammoth, and Robson taking charge of Hensch. Robson, by the way, had many highly interesting metliixls of dealing with people concerned in cases that were not coming before the po ice. We had decided on a plan which gave a chance of our triumph being the more complete. . Ami this is what happened. About nine o’clock the "next morning there arrived at the hotel a distinguishedlooking old, white-haired man. He had traveller’ all night from the Con-, tinent. Almost simultaneously the Baron Julius Hapmarck entered the vestibule of the hotel.

“Ah, my dear count! You received my wire in Paris, and have come?" he cried. “I told you I had managed to find your daughter—she is in this hotel now!” I approached the old man and introduced myself. “I wish to see Madame Eckstein!” he said, shortly. “Will you kindly have my card sent to her at once?” I led them to the private room in which I had arranged that the meeting was to take place. I left them together, then made my way round to another door of the same room, which, hid by the curtain, was slightly open. “This Eckstein man, Julius—is he here with her?” the old count was saying. The baron approached nearer to 1.. m. “A most extraordinary thing has happened—he has committed suicide — last night.” The old man looked at him in amazement. “Committed suicide — does she know?” he cried. “She must, by now. In a last letter to someone else he said he was writing at the same time to her.” “But the cause—what was it?” A ghastly smile played about the baron’s mouth. “There was another woman—a beautiful, fascinating woman —whom, years ago, he loved passionately. She married, and he tried his best to forget her. He succeeded so well that, as we know to our cost, he ran away with your daughter—my betrothed!” he said, between his teeth. “Then, when in London, he met again the first woman, whose husband in the meantime has died. At once the passion he had for her burst forth again—but t’ is time he was the one who was not free! He visited her at the hotel where she had been staying—pleaded with her to throw up everything and go with him. She refused and reminded him of his honour. He went away in despair. He felt he could not go back to the one --he could not have the other. In a mad fit he went down to a lonely empty house he had rented and committed suicide!” “Coward and scoundrel!” cried the old count; then he looked up at the baron. “Ah, Julies, she would have done better to have married you!” A gleam came into Hapmarck’s eyes. “She shall now—even yet. You will take her back to the Castle, Count—let there be no escaping this time, and in a year—well, we shall see!” I moved quickly from the: door, and hurrying along the corridor, tapped at another door. Eckstein and his wife came out. Robson joined us, and we returned to the room. I opened the door, and we all four entered. I looked at the baron. He gave a start, and a ghastly pallor came over his face as he caught sight of Eckstein. “Y ou! ” he gasped. Robson advanced to the baron and stood in front of him.

“An ingenious scheme, but the inevitable mischance!” he began. “It would, perhaps, simplify matters if I were to inform you that we caught your agent, Hensch, last night. According to the instructions, he returned to the house to make sure that the charcoal had done its work, so that he might in safety post your forged letter to Captain Eckstein’s wife here. He ran against us, however, and has been in my charge during the night. We duly posted hi 9 letter to you, informing you that everything had happened as had been arranged—of course it was really as we had arranged. I may add that If the matter comes into Court he is perfectly willing to turn King’s evidence. It now only remains for US to decide whether it shall or not!” The old count had been listening to Robson in amazement. I approached him and, in as short a way as possible, told him of the baron’s infamy. Hapmarck stood almost livid with rage and fear. When I had finished Robson strolled over to the door. He opened it slightly, then turned and looked at the old count. “There air two courses open, sir—• might I venture to suggest them? One is, that the Baron Julius Hapmarck walks through this door, never to enter your presence again, and that you accept Captain Eckstein as your son-in-law—the other, that I summon the police and give the baron in charge for attempted murder.” There was a moment’s pause. Then the old count rose and, looking at the quaking Hapmarck, pointed to the door. “Go!” he said, sternly.

And that is practically the end of what I call “The Tale of the Young Ccuple.” I might add, however, that the very valuaole gold watch I am now wearing bears the inscription—“To Claud Matheson, in grateful remembrance from Maurice and Stephanie,” and that - somewhere amongst Mr Nathaniel Robson’s extensive collection of presentation jewellery- can ibe found a handsome diamond scarf pin that came from the same quarter. I have also a pressing invitation to pay a visit to Halzberg Castle whenever I have the time; perhaps I will some day when the Mammoth can spare me, which doesn’t seem to be within the next week or so!