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f ART TWO.
A HIDDEN FOE.
A STORY OF LOVE AND MYSTERY.
By G. A. HMTY,
Author of “THE C'CRSE OF CARNE’S HOLD,” “GABRIEL ALLEN, M. P.” ETC., ETC.
[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]
CHAPTER XIII.
“Punctual to the miuute. Miss Corbyn,”
Robert Harbut said, as Constance and
Madame Duport entered his office, “I sup
pose you came over yesterday.”
“Yes, Mr. Harbut, And we are already
watched, it is not a fancy on my part
this time,” and she related wbat had hap
pened.
“Jackson,” Robert Harbut said, and the
clerk came in. “Will you go downstairs
and look round when you get to the door,
and if you see a dirty boy of about 15 hang
ing about box his ears soundly. Never
mind his yeiiing. Then take him by the
collar and march him to the top of the lane,
and tell the porter there that be is after no
god and that 1 say so; he will turn him out
sharp enough then.”
"Very good, sir,” and Jackson went off
much elated at this unusual order.
“We will give him five minutes to clear
tbs road,” Robert Harbut said, “and then
we will be off."
Before the five minutes were passed the
clerk returned.
“l'hore is no such boy anywhere about,
sir, neither iu our oourt or anywhere else.”
“That is bad,” Robert said, when the clerk
had closed the door behind him.
"Whv is a bad. Mr. Harbut?'’ Con
stance asked. “I should have thought it
was good.”
“Most likely his employers live not far
off. Miss Corbyn. He watched you until he
saw you turn into the Temple, aud as you
were watched before it w’ould not be neces
sary for bim to go further, he would make
sure that you were coming to me, and would
know, too, that you had seen him, and there
fore someone else would be seat to take his
place. However, wo muse risk that. Now
shall we be off?”
“If you please, but I must tell you that
we mean to go second class. I suppose there
ar ■ second class passengers. ”
“Yes. but I faccv that not many people
go second class. People going backward
aid forward to Australia and India aud
China are generally well off, and I fancy
that tne second class are generally nurses,
engineers go.ng to join a ship, aud that sort
of thing.”
“That will do very well for us, Mr. Har
but. Annette has been a servaut for years,
and will not mind it, and certainly what is
good enough for her is good euough for mo,
besides I sh uld feel more comfortable
there than I should feel among a crowd of
grand people. Last of all, and wnat is most
Important, we have no money to waste; It
is Annette's hard-earned money we are
r.sking, and not a penny must be spent that
is not absolutely necessary. Another thing
is, should we tako our passage iu our own
name do you tbiuk! Possibly someone else
i might he going out In the same ship iu
l rearch of this man, aud he would recognize
| my name at onoe.”
I “I think that it would certainly be pru-
I dent for you to take your passage under
I itother name. Miss Corbyn.”
I “Then pleuso take our plaoes as Madame
I Renan, that was Aunetto’s maiden name,
I sod Mademoiselle Rena. I suppose I have
I aright to take auy name I like until I can
I preve my right to be colled Corbyn.”
1 Just as they were going up into Fleet
I street, Constauce looked back.
| “there, Mr. Harbut, lam convinced that
I man behind us is one of those who was
• watching us when wo were here before. 1
■am sure I saw him several times opposite
■ou lodgings. ”
I Rchert Harbut hesitated and muttered a
■threat between his lips that accorded better
■with his present attire than with the wig
■a and stieotacles. Then ho hurried forward,
■hailed a passing cab, pushed the ladies id
■and followed them, saying to the driver
■just as the man behind came up:
I “King's Cross; drive fast.”
■ He looked round out of the window when
■he got to the top of Chancery Lane, a han
■Bool was following with a solitary man in -
■side, but it was too far behind for him to
■reenguizo the face. He turned to the cab
■nao:
I “ L ok hero, cabby,” he said, “draw up
B?“ ar P the instant you get round the corner;
•ere is half a crown; we shall jump out!
■' and drive straight on up Cray’s Inn Lane,
■keep ahead of that hansom behind if you
*. ou needn’t go further than the
■lurkshire Grey, there yon can draw up and
soruo beer.” *
■ A moment later the cab turned into Hol-
B° ni ' to Robert's vexation there was an
■nirnhus just coming along, aud a few seo
tune was lost.
■ “Jump out quick,” he said the moment
Wo cab stopped. "Go into that shop aud
M* a pair of gloves; drive ou, cabby as
■aarpas you like." '
■ he ladies eicored the shop, while at the
Robert Harbut ran into the
■ro-o - ‘° U ? e the comer, aud stood loot
thl Partly closed door. A mo.
meat later the cab camo along, its pace
lomewt tl Dt i y been e reatl y increased the
inent the four-wheeler turned the corner.
■aV^ iarrlsler gave an angry excla-
B,Confound the fellow, he will guess the
: od, by its being so short a dis
t ‘“ ll now arid followed the cab with
, ■ :, S- in° hansom was driving fast and
!■ !,,_ cai V 11 four-wheeler long before
= Brr.H lV at Yorkshire Grey. He
J sharply into the shop where the
Br‘“ K, .‘. ,he flrst Pair,” ho said to Con
s' . 7"y moment is of importance.”
■i la:er they were ou: of the shop,
■, a ;' the road they entered an oin-
Z e have th mwn them off the
iHt, Corbyn. I have no doubt
jHk.j '.'ho the follow knows that the cab
Harbut remained another
■ .atching tho hansom iiistoad of
K 'I „ , 8ho P. he would have seen it
‘ ■ en? s ,’f WeD| y. and the man inside it
- Hi bs.'lf j o "' a shilling to the driver, and
“ k toward the corner of Chancery
,har P “ T° u thought,
■ ■ • ~h e muttered between his
W | ik’ K v, , ! Sea that Wtts a false direction
Hr ; r ,.‘ IJU1 JU wero trying to throw me off
■cat u . e Could 806 with half an eye
■1 “ loljpod diroct ‘y il ot
‘ T ty had entered the om-
A’wSSitr* ,b “
■ , Ihe P - & °- °® ce
■t'clo! w,cr S.I >or ths by the Mandalay for
B .'llea imo rrr Jay - Robert Harbut, put
8rch....... a Jrixtou omnibus In Grace
§L‘ gr** straight
s W you spare me five minutes, James?”
f-lje IHofmng |feto&
. ’‘, Ten i£ you w ant them, Robert; what Is
it i
“I told you that Miss Corbyn had sus
pectecl that she has been followed ever since
she came to England. I was inclined to
put it all down to fancy, but to-day I found
that she was right. This beats me alto
gather, who in the world can bo acting
against us?”
“I can’t tell, Robert. Those inquiries at
Uxford puzzle me altogether, but this is ex
traordinary.”
“Weil, we know that at Oxford it was
someone who said he had been sent down
by Wilkins’ people; at least, their name
was on the card ho gave the porter. The
fellow was careless in letting out the name
of his employers, but probably they never
anticipated that we should be going there,
too. Do you know anything of those fel
lows?”
“A little; I believe they do their work as
well as any of these private detective
Arms. They get some information together
very well for a client of ours who employed
them.”
“Would you mind seeing them, Jim. It
Is no use my going to them because they
would laugh in my faco, but as a solicitor,
and one who perhaps might one day throw
a job in their way, you might get something
from them.”
“Weil, I will try anyhow, Robort,”
James Ferris said. "We will take a hansom
to their place, aud you can wait outside
while I will go In. I saw Wilkins two or
three times when he was working that case,
ho is an ex-sergeaut of police, anil a pretty
shrewd fellow. I don’t know whither he
i susceptible to a bribe or not, but it may
be that a twenty pound note may induce
him to open bis lips a little.”
James Ferris on ser diug ud his name was
at once shown into the little room which
formed the private office of Private Detect
ive W ilkins. In Chancery Lane.
"Good morning, Mr. Ferris; is there any
thing I can do for you?”
Wilkins was a strongly built man, with
square shoulders, and seemed still to be
wearing his police uniform. His face
was somewhat heavy, but there was a
shrewd look in tho gray eyes under tho
shabby eyebrows.
“Not regular business this time, Mr.
Wilkins, but I wa it somo information,
which, of course, I am ready to pav for if
you feel ut liberty to afford it, as to a case
iu which you are engaged.”
A slight smile stole over the detective’s
face, and he shook his head.
“I don’t want auy breach of confidence,”
the lawyer went on; “however, I will tell
you what I do want, and you will see
whether you can give it without what you
consider a breach of confidence. It is not a
matter in which I am professionally en
gaged, but in which I am, I may say, per
sonally interested, and I am willing to
give twenty pounds to have my curiosity
set at rest.”
“Let us hear what it is, Mr. Ferris.”
“I want to know why on earth you are
tracking the movements of those two
women from St. Malo?”
“I can answer that question easily
enough, Mr. Ferris. X have not the most
remote idea in the world.”
“You have not?” James Ferris repeated,
in astonishment.
“Not the slightest. I simply received in
structions: “Send over to St. Malo, see it
any Englishman visits a Monsieur and
Madame Duport living there with an
adopted daughter, who goes bv the name of
Corbyn. If they leave St. Malo and come
to England have every movement watched.’
You will understand that if I did know
what I was watching them for I should not
tell you, but as I don’t kno w I do not mind
doing so. The very day after my man got
there you visited them; three days after
ward they came over to London, and I have
kept them in sight since.”
“All that lam aware of, Mr. Wilkins,
but it is the motive of the thing that puz
zles me; 1 cannot for the life of me make
out who is interested in their movements—
that is what I am ready to give twenty
pounds to know,”
“If I knew myself, Mr. Ferris, I should
not tell you for ten times that sum, but, in
the present case, my client, if I may call
him so, has not taken me in the slightest
degree in his confidence. I received my in
structions by letter, inclosing a handsome
fee in batik notes. My instructions were to
post each day any discoveries I might make
to Mr. Zachariah Smith, at a post ffico in
one of the Midland towns, where it would
be called for. The name, of course, is an
assumed one, and I don’t think it right to
give you the name of the town, as you
might put someone to watch who calls for
letters addressed to that name. I receive
letters with that signature posted in that
town, but as my client is evidently a very
cautious gentleman, I should think it likely
that he does not live there, but that some
agent of his receives a id reposts my letters
to him and posts his letters to me.
I don’t know whether that is worth twenty
pounds to you.”
“Well, yes, I think it is,” Ferris said;
“and I will send you a check across from
my office. It was the same employer, of
course, who sent your man down to Oxford
to inquire about Tom Morson.”
The detective nodded.
“Do you guess who my client is?”
"Not in the least."
"It is the most mysterious affair I ever
came across, Harbut,” the young lawyer
said when he returned to his friend.
“Wilkins declares that he does not know in
the least who his client is. ”
And he repeated the substance of the
conversation.
“There is no doubt of one thing, who
ever he is, he must have known from tho
first all that we have learnt since. He was
aware of the existence of the girl at St.
Maio before wo were, for the Duports were
watched before I went over, and they were
before you in their inquiries about Morson.
blow did you find that you were watched
to-day?”
“That plucky girl has made uo her mind
to start for Australia to try and find this
man Morson, and Lwas going with them to
take their oassages by the Mandalay, which
sails next Thursday, when she recognized a
man beuind us as one of the men who had
been following her. My first impulse was to
punch his head, but I thought better of it.”
And he then related toe steps he had
taken to throw their pursuer off the track.
“I don’t *eel at ali sure that I succeeded, ’’
he added, in conclusion.
“I should doubt it, too,” Ferris agreed.
“I fcniuk it quite on the cards that a letter
will be posted this afternoon to Mr.
Zachariah Smith, saying that the two
women have taken berths for Sydney in
the Mandalay. Do they go under their own
names?”
“No, they are entered on the list as Mad
ame and Maaamoisolle Renan,"
SAVANNAH, GA., SUNDAY, OCTOBER 5, 181)0.
"That will make no difference. Wilkins
will only have to send down some well
dressed man to the office to look at the list
of passengers under some pretense or other,
and he will at once spot the names of tw u
women together among the last entries. Ho
she is going out to Australia. I told you
she was a girl who would carry the th’iug
through.”
“She is a splendid girl,” Report Harbut
said, enthusiastically. "If itwatrn’t that I
had hem already snapped up, I should
certainly fall head over heels iu love with
her.”
"It Is a pity Philip cannot meet her. and
fall in love with her, it would be by far tbe
best solution of the business.”
“When she comes back you must try and
bring it about.”
Robert-Harbut laughed.
“ Where is he now?”
"I had a letter from him this morning; he
is worrying himself about this thing im
mensely ; he told me he intended to stop at
Folkestone on his way back from Paris, and
to have a look at the register himself and
try to ascertain from the look of the cut
how long ago it was done."
“1 examined it by a microscope the elergv
man lent me, but could not perceive any
difference of color at the edge. If it had
been a tear I dare say it would have shown
it, but with a clean cut edge there was no
judging; to my mind it lookod old, the
clergyman and the clerk both thought that
it was fresh, but I really do not think that
there was any tolling.”
"I shall hear P.iilip’s opinion this even
ing, I expect,” James Ferris said; “be is
pretty sure to look me up; he said if I had
no news to give him he should go down to
Buth by the first train in the morning.”
James Ferris had just finished his din
ner when he heard a knock at the door.
A minute later Philp .theroe was shown
in.
"Well, Philip, had a gay time In Paris?”
he asked, and then stopped abruptly.
“Why, what is the matter, old man; are
you ill? Has anything gone wrong with
you?"
He might well be surprised. Philip
Clitheroe was as pale as deith, aud seemed
to have aged ten years sinoo Ferris ha l last
seen him. There was an exora-sion of in
tense pain on his face, the light had g no
from his eyes, his mouth was set and hard.
He made no direct reply to the questions,
but with a little wave of the hand sat down
in a chair iu front of the fire without even
removing his hat, aud stared into the
flames.
"What is it, Philip?” his friend again
asked, this time in low tones, for he was ab
solutely awed at the look upon the young
fellow’s face. "What on earth is the mat
ter, oid man ?”
“I have had a little shock,” he said in a
dull tone. "I will tell you presently all 1
can.”
Jim Ferris was confounded, and stood for
a moment silently looking at Piilip. Then
he turned to the table and filleia glass with
sherry. “Drink this, P iilip,” he said. “You
look worn out; it will do you good.”
Philip mechanically <lid as he was told,
took the glass in a shaking hand, rais and it to
his lips, and swallowed tho contents. It was
five minutes before he spoke. Thau he said,
in a quiet, dull tone:
“I don’t know that I can tell you anything
heyond this: I have renounced my right
altogether, and wholly to the Corbyn
estates, in favor of my cousin, Miss Corbyn,
Whom I wish every ne to know I recognize
absolutely as tho lawful her to the p operty
and tbe legitim ite daughter of my unol >.
I desire you and your father to pro pare a
deed to that effect at once—on Monday, if
you cm. I want it done at once, because I
am going away. Id > not want to be asked
whv Ido this. Ido iiand that is enough.”
His hearer’s impression at once was that
Philip had worried over this business uutil
his brain had suddenly given way, and he
said sooth i gly:
“Of course, I will do as you wish,
Philip. We will mako the arrangements a.
soon as possible. Aud where are you going
"Away—somewhere, it doe? not matter
where; America or Australia, anv where
where I can work for an houest'livin?.
My God,” he cried, rising suddenly with a
passionate gesture; “bow I am suffering,”
aud standing up he put bis elbows on the
mantel-piece aid buried his face in his
hands, while deep sobs burst from him.
James Ferris stood wetebing him. unab'o
to decide whether it was best to address
him or not. Either he was mad or s <me
terrible misfortune had takeu place; what
that misfortune could be James Ferris
could not even guess. Had lie discovered
in some strange way that this marriage
hod taken place? but oven had he done so he
would not have taken it to heart like this,
for he had all through been prepared to
relinquish the estates if proof of the mar
riage was obtained. Still this did not look
like madness. At last Philip turned round
again and held out his hand to him. "You
must think 1 am mad, James, but I am not.
I cannot tell you what has hap
pened. I shall never be able to
tell you. I almost wish that I
was mad, but I nevor was saner in my
life. I meant what I have said just now. I
shall leave the oountry for years. I desire
that my cousin should take possession of
Corbyn Court. I think that proofs of the
marriage will be forthcoming. If they
should not. I charge you to use every possi
ble means, and to stint no money, m en
deavoring to find witnesses of trie marriage.
We can talk about the other things to-mor
row. I know you have a spare bud here. I
do not feel up to going to my hotel. Will
you tell them to got the room ready for me.
I will eat a crust of broad and have a cup
of tea if you will order it for me while they
are gotting the room ready. I have eaten
nothing since I breakfasted before starting
at B mlogne. Do not ask me any questions,
that’s a good iellow.”
Jim Ferris rang the boll, and ordered
that the room should be got ready at once
for his friend. The next half hour they
talked together on different subjects, of the
weather in Paris, of the run across the
channel, and other matters. As soon as
Philip had drunk his tea, he rose, lighted
the candle the servant had placed on a side
table, held out his haod silently to James
Ferris, nodded and went off, James leading
the way to the bedroom prepared for him.
"This confounded business is enough to
drive a man out of his mind,” James Ferris
said, as on his return to bis room he sat be
fore the fire. “It is a mystery from begin
ning to end, and this finishes it. Philip
seems certainly sane enough, though wha.
can have occurred to shake him up in this
way I cannot imagine. What on earth will
my father say when I tell him on Monday
that Philip has made up his mind to give
up the estatos and go abroad ? lam sure he
will refuse point blank to havo any hand in
carrying out this arrangement.”
Phillip Clitberee bad indeed experienced
a terrible ebook. Tue more he had thought
the matter of the missing leaf of the regis
ter over, the more he was convinced that
Ferris was mistaken, and that his undo
could not have been such a rascal as to
endeavor to destroy proof of his own mar
riage. He had not had the courage to
acknowledge it during bis father’s lifetime,
and bad put off. as long a* tie could, facing
the talk that such an announcement would
have excited afterward, but he intended,
Philip felt convinced, to acknowledge the
girl at his heiress sooner or iater.
“I am convinced he never cut out this
leaf- someone else has done it,” and so
Philip resolved to question the clerk much
more closely than Robert Harbut seemed to
have done, and with this intent broke bis
journey at Folkestone, and leaving his
portmanteaus at the station on the pier,
walked to the parish church, and was soon
at the residence of William Trusoott, the
clerk.
“1 have noma to have a talk with you,
Mr. Truseott, about that missing loaf in the
register.”
“I suppose I shall hear a lot of that be
fore wo have done,” the clerk said in a tone
of vexation. “The rector is in a great
taking about it, and so am I. Jfy fa' her,
who was here before me, was a most careful
man about tne registers, ami so have 1 been
inyseif since I have had them nnder my
charge, and now to think that a loaf has
been taken out, and that it was never
noticed until the other day. Are you hero
in tne interest of the same parties that were
here the other day!”
"Yes, we are nil in tho same interest,
Philip replied. “First of all, I should like
to have a look at this register myself. I am
entitled to that, I believe, on paying the
fee of one shilling. I have brought a
strong glass with tne to trv and find out
whether it is of recent da'e.
The clerk took the keys and accompanied
Philip to the church, tho safe was opened
and the volume produced. Philip curried
it to the window, bent it back to the fullest
extent, and examined the edge of the miss
ing sheet witii the glass.
“No,” ha said, "I cannot form a positive
opinion. It oertainly looks newer than the
rest of the paper, but from its having boon
cut with so sharp a knife it is smoother
than the face of the paper, and therefore
reflects the light somewhat better. There
is, as far as I can see, nothiug to guide us
here. Suppose we sit down and talk it over
a minute or two. From what we know of
the matter, it is probable that eithar it was
out out eight or ten years ago, or that it has
been cut out in the last few months or s >.
Now can you remember who has been hero
to examine it lately?”
“I can’t tell you who have been bore,” the
clerk replied, “but I can tell you how
many people have come,” and lie to k out a
small cash book from the safe. “This is an
account of the cash I have roceiveil since the
first of last December. There have bi?eu
four inquiries altogether; one by letter for a
marriage certificate, o:ie personal inquiry
about birth registers, one letter for copy of
register of burial, one personal for marriage
certificate. 1 ’
"There have, In fact, been only two per
sonal visits.”
“That is so, sir.”
“It might be either of them,” Philip said,
“you see the volumes all have the number
of the year to which they relate on their
backs, g > that whon a person inquires for a
death or birth certificate he could, if he
happened to he alone hero, tako c u any of
the cooks and cut out a leaf. What sort of
a person was it who came for a copy of this
certificate of birth?”
“Let me see. It was a young man. He
mentioned while I was copying ihe regis
ters of the birth that he happened to be
staying down here, and as he was going to
be married shortly, a id meant to insure his
life, ho thought he might just as well go a
copy of the certificate, riis name was
Armstrong, l remember. He was b >ru iu
1844. Decomber, 1844, I think it was,,”
“Was he alone here at all?”
“No, sir. I nevor leave anyone alone
here. ”
“Well, now as to the other?”
“Tee other was a lady, sir. She was tall
and dressed in mourning, and had a thick
veil on—quite the lady I should say. She
said she wanted to louk iu the register for a
marriage iu tho year 1853. That was in tho
next volume to t is you se. Tais is for the
four year sup to the year 1851. Sue could
not find what she was looking for, though
she went through t:ia marriages during
those four years.”
“Then see must have, been in here
nearly half an hour, and she was never left
alone?"
“Lor’, no, sir,” the clerk began, and then
stopped suddenly, and his usu.lly ruddy
face lost evey tinge of col r.
“She was alone,” Philip said.
“Well, she was for a moment now one
thinks of It,” tho clei k admitte 1. “It was
not for a minute; no, nor half a minute;
she was sitting o l this chair looking at the
book, aud I was standing behind her when
she said,‘There is someone calling you, I
think. Mister Truseott.’ Thinking it was
the rector who ha i come al mz and found
the church door open, I hurried out, I did
not see him in tho church, and just weut
out of the porch to look. There was no ono
there, aud I went straight back again. I
was not out half a minute altogether, I am
prepared to take my affidavit.’
“Half a minute would be ample,” Philip
said. She knew by the book she had before
her where the notice she wanted would be
found in the next volume. As she sat she
could reach out aid take it from its she f.
She had only to turn to the date, cut out
the leaf, replace the book on tho shelf and
thrust the loaf under her cloak It would
not take tea seoonds. You see by these
other cut leaves t ow strongly a id hastily it
was done. There is no longer any doubt as
to hoiv the leaf was lost now. Tuis is a verv
serious matter, both for those concerned in it
and for yourself, Mr. Truscott.”
“I see it is,” the clerk slid in great dis
tress. “I know I ought not to have gone
out and left any one alone with the regis
ters, but it was done so natural it never
entered my mind. She seemed, just easy
and gentle. ‘I think that there is someone
calling you, Mr. Truscott,’ and out I ran
without toinking of it fora moment; and
if you hadn’t asked mo about it i should
never have thought of it again. When I
came back she was sitting just as I had left
her, running her finger down tho pages,
reading the names; and no one would ever
suspect a lady of such an action as that."
“Well, try and remember all you know
about her. That is the only thing you can
do to help to undo the damage you have
caused. What was she like?”
“Well, as I have said, sir, she was tall,
and held herself very upright—out of the
way stiff, I should say.”
“What age was she?’’
“It is difficult to judge ladies’ ages when
they have got their ve.ls down, sir, but I
should judge her between 40 and 50. I
could see her hair at the back of her bonnet
as I stood beside her and leant on the table,
and it was what I should call sandy, not rod
or yellow, but just about the color of sand.
Is there anything the matter, sir; do you
think you know the lady?”
Philip did not answer for a moment. The
description nad brought up his mother be
fore his eyes. For a moment his heart
seemed to stop boating, then with a great
effort he said, “I know someone like your
description, hut it could not possibly be he.-,
do on, was there any thing else you remem
ber?”
’•Only her hand,” the clerk replied, “her
dre s was all black, quiet black, but nothing
as one would remember, but she took her
glove off when she began to examine the
book. I thought tha'. it was to turn the
leaves over better, but I suppose now that
it was to be able to use it quick or for g tting
out the knife. She had a marriage ring and
throe rings over it. I had plenty of
time to notice them. I wondered
what they cost. The top ring was pearls,
aid the next had four stones, two of them
were dark red. I do not know whether
they were rubles, but they looked deeper
than rubiee, and the other two were
diamonds. The ring next to the wedding
ring was mostly gold, with one diamond in
the middle, with some little blue stones—
turquoise, I think they cull them, round it”
Every vestige of color had flowu from
Philip’s face now, and the hand that rested
on the table gr isped it as if for support.
The little vestry seemed to whirl round; but
ho came of a g nxl race, and when the clerk
looked up from tne table on which he had
been picturing the hand he described, Philip
hod pulled himself together.
"Thank you for your description. It may
prove useful to us. I don’t know that I
have any other questions to ask you. I
should not leave people alone here in future I
if 1 wire you.”
Had not tho clerk been greatly son rot at
the thought of the pains and penalties lie '
might have entailed upon himself by loav
iig a searcher alone with the books, aid so
enabling a felony to be executed, ho could
not but have beeu xtru k with the change
of Toioe and maimer of his visitor. He
was. iudeod, dimly conscious of it, and In
speaking of the matter to the rector—for
it was too serious a ono to keep from his
knowledge—he said: "I think the gentle
nian who called must be greatly interested
in that marriage, for he seemed quite
shaken liko when he found out how tbe leaf
had been taken.”
"Well, I hope, Truseott, it will boa lesson
to you,” the rector said, severely. "It is a
most serious business, and, for anything we
know, the loss of this register may Involve
very important consequences. If'the mat
ter ever goes into a court of law, and you
are called as a witness —which you aro
pretty sure to be —I should be very sorry to
bo In your position.”
Philip Clitheroe, ou leaving the church,
kopt on straight through the towu and up
the hill. He scarce knew where ho was
going, but seemed impelled only by a de
sire to bo alone. Ho turned off almost me
chanically from the main road soon alter
he left the town, and after walking for half
an hour, found himself on an open down.
He stood fora moment and lookod away to
tbe south over the sea.
“What am I to do?” he murmured to
himself. “To think, only to think, that my
mother should have done this. It is awful.
Hero have 1 been keeping this from her,
and she must have known it all along. Sho
has been doing this terrible thing for me; as
if any good could come from a crime which
cheated a girl out of her rights. 0, mother,
how could you?”
For hours Philip walked up and down
trying to think; the time passed unheeded;
the train by which he had Intended to go
up to town steamed away unnoticed, ami it
was not until late in tho afier loon that ho
turned ami made his way back with
stumbling stops to the station, where he
walked upanddownoii theplatform until tho
ti o’clock traiil started. Thun he threw him
self into the corner of a carriage,
and, with his hat pulled far over his eve?,
remained without moving until Char
ing Cross was reached. It was well for
him that ho was utterly exhausted when
he lay down that night, so exhausted
that sleep soon came to him.
Ho v. as astonished whon he was
awoke by a knocking at the door and found
that he had slept without moving for well
nigh twelve hours.
“Will you come down to breakfast, Philip,
or shall I bring you up a cup of tea, and let
you havo auothor snooze before you get
up?”
•Twill be down in twenty minutes,” he
raid, leaping out of bed, and speaking, as
Jamos Ferns noticed, in a voice more like
his own.
“I think ho is better,” he said to himself.
"I hoped he would get a good night after all
that. Well, it is more tnan I have had. I
never was so puzzled over anything iu my
life. What on earth can havo happened to
him?”
T he long night and cold bath had effected
wonders for Pnilip. His face was very
grave when he wont down, but the air of
utter despondency had passod off. Nothing
wns sai I at breukfast as to tho talk of the
night before, but whon they hud lighted
their pipes and drawn round tho fire,
Philip said: "I suppose you thought I must
be mad last night, and I was almost, but
what I said I meant, and moan still. Some
thing has ha ’penod that convinces me
absolutely that my uncle was mar
ried, and that my cousin is
lawful heiress of Corbyn Court. What that
something is I cannot toll you, and never
shall be able to toll you. At any rate, I
relinquish tho estate at once in her favor,
and intend, as 1 said, to go abroad at once,
at any rate for some years. It is possible
that evid nice of my cousin’s legitimacy
may be forthcoming; if not, you must do
your host to obiaio it, for, us you said,
should anything happen to me, her rights
would bo disputed by tho next heir. I sup
pose it will take some little time to draw up
the papers assigning my rights to the prop
erty to my cousin.”
“Ye, I should think it will take some
little lime, Philip."
“Yes, well, 1 don’t want to stop for that
I want to be off at o oce. I want to be out
of it al ! . Tliereforo 1 will get you your
self to draw out some for ual paper of re
nunciation, which I will sign; thon after I
have gone you can speak to your father
about it, and get the deeds regularly drawn
up, and send them out tome to be executed.
In that ay nothiug whatever need be said
about the matter to anyone until I have
gone. I want to get away without any
leave-taking, or wondering or remarks.”
“I suppose you know what you are doing,
Philip, 1 ’ James Ferris said, after a pause.
“Of course, to me the whole thing is inex
plicable."
“I know what I am doing, James, worse
luck • and there is no help for it.”
“What are you going to do about Cli
theroe?”
“If you will draw up a power of attorney,
I will authorize you to reoeivo all rents and
act for me in my absence. The house must
be shut up. My mother’s own income is
sufficient to keep up the house in Bath, and
after paying the interest on the mortgages
the balance of the rents can accumulate
and you can pay off the mortgages one by
one, and if I ever return Clitheroe will be
clear.”
James Ferris saw that it was usoloss to
argue, unable as he wok to guess at the rea
sons by which Philip was iniluenced.
“You will sell my hunters and the car
riage horses, and I will get you to advance
me two hundred and fifty upon them if you
do not mind. I won’t have the furniture at
Clitheroe sold. You had better put a man
and woman in to take care of the place.’’
"Where are you thlaking of going,
Philip?”
“I don’t care whether it is Australia or
America. I think Australia, because lam
less likely to meet anyone I know there
than in Canadu or the states.”
James Forris sat thinking for some time.
“If you go to Australia, Philip,” he said
at last, “you might make a point of looking
up that fellow Morson. If there was. as
you now say, a marriage, there is little
iioubt he was present at it, or, at any rate,
could give evidenoe that would go far to
prove It.”
“By Jo ro. you are right,” Philip ex
claimed, with a uew light in his face.
“That decides me; it will be soinethlug to
attend to first.”
“Let rue think, what was his address, I
have got It In my pock-t book," Ferris said,
“I put it down when Harbut told me of it.
Ab, ho e it is: T. Morson, near Brisbane.”
“Have you got yesterday’s paper?” Philip
asked eagerly, “let us see if there is a ship
just sailing from Brisbane.”
“You may have to wait some time for a
ship direct, bat the Australian mail goes
on Thursday; and once at Melbourne you
will have no difficulty in getting a coasting
steamer to Kydney and then on to Brisbane:
and you will be there, perhaps, a couple of
months earlier than yon would In a sailing
ibipi"
“There is plenty of time for that, I will
write home to-day for my gnus and shoot
ing clothes; they must be seut off by pas
senger train. '1 hey will get the letter in
the afternoon, and the things will be up on
Tuesday. I intend to change mv name,
Ferri*. Clitheroe is not a very common
name, and l want to take a fresh start. If
I had gone by a sailing ship I should have
gone third class; Ido not want to run the
ri-k of meeting anyone 1 know and be asked
que turns. The P. and O. don’t carry thirds,
so I shall go second."
A momentary look of satisfaction and
nmusemo it dashed across his companion’s
face. Had Philip been going in any other
ship he would have combated the idea of his
going second class, but he was now de
lighted that Philip had decided on this.
“Then you do not intend to go buck to
Hath!” he asked.
“No,” Philip replied shortly. "I don’t
want to stir out of this room except just to
get a few things that I shall want on the
voyage, until I go, that is if you will tako
me In until then?”
"With pleasure."
"Mind, Ferris, 1 want no one to know
anything about this affair until I am gone.
You understand that I”
“Quite, my dear fellow. Yon can rely
upon it, I will not breathe a word to any
one. Now what are we going to doall day!
I think the best thing will ha to run down
to Brighton, dine there, and come up in the
evening. We shall find it a lung day if we
sit hero doing nothing."
“That will just suit me, James. Ido not
went to have time to think until I get
fairly at sea. I shall have pleuty of time
for that afterward.”
The three days passed rapidly. On Wed
nesday Philip signed a document assigning
to Constanoo Corbyn all rights that he
might have In tno Corbyn property, and
stating his conviction that she was the
legal owner of the estate. This was to be
seut in cn Friday to Robert Harbut. In
the afternoon he sat down to write to bis
mother.
“My dear mother,” he began, “it is with
’inexpressible pain that I write to you. I
kuow nil. I have lieen to Folkestone
church and kuow that you have been there
before me, a:id that you carried away the
loaf of the register containing tho marriage
of my unole with Constance Purcell. O,
mother, how could you do It? How could
you stoop to such a crime? A thousand
Corbyn Courts would bo dearly bought in
deed at tho cost of such dishonor. I know
that it. was for my sake that you did it,
that it was love for me that drove you to it,
and it is not for mo to reproach you with a
crime undertaken for my sake; hut with
the weight on me I can never look people in
the face again.
“I am going abroad, and shall change my
name, and 1 implore you to take the only
step that can ever restore ponce or happiness
to us. Send at onoo that leaf of the register
to Robert Harbut of the Middle Temple; ha
will know what to do with it. It would he
bolter and nobler, and would go fur to re
deem tho fault if you would yourself see
Constance Corbyn—Robert Harbut has her
address—and give her the proof of her
mother’s marriage, own your fault, and
throw yourself on her mercy. But
if you euunot bring yourself to do
this, which would of ull things
tie host, send the leaf anonymously to
Harbut. So only can wo evor come to
gether again. In time, whon I hear Con
stance is installed at Corbyn Court, provod
beyoud all doubt to bo my uncle’s heiress,
I may bring myself to come buck. Other
wise I shall never return to England. God
help us both, mother. I beseech you, I im
plore you, s t right this terrible wrong at
wha over cost to your pride and your feel
ings. ”
"Pleaso post that letter for me on Friday,
Ferris. Mind, Ido not wish ovon mv
mother to know what name I have taker ,
or where I huve gone. Directly I ream.
Brisbane I shall write to you, and you can
then forward to me documents for signa
ture and any letters there may be to send.”
James Ferris asked no questions; be had
lieen pondering tho matter ovur in all
lights. He knew that there was adoep
affection between Philip and his mother,
and the fact that Philip should not return
to Bath arid should bo keeping his mother
in ignorance of his intention of going
ahr< al, had struck him as strange and
unnatural, and at last 1 he truth had Hashed
upon him. Philip had been to Folkestone
and had there discovered something. It
was certainly not that the Corbyn estates
were involved that had so utterly depressed
him, and had determined him to exile him
self. It was s mething that he considered
vastly more serious than this. Was it possi
ble that he could have discovered than it was
his mother who had abstracted the miss
ing leaf < This would account for all that had
hitherto seemed so inexplicable in the
uifair. Mrs Corbyn might hove learned
from her brother that lie was married, end
all the particulars of that marriage. She
might have known that exoept in Folkstone
church no evidence existed of that mar
riage. She might have removed that evi
dence and set detectives to watch every
step taken bv Constance, and might also
have instructed them to tako stops to dis
cover whether Morson, the only living evi
dence as to the marriage, was still alive. It
was a terrible suspicion to entertoiu of
Philip CUtberoe’s mot er, an 1 yot turning
it over again in bis mind, Jim Ferris ac
knowledged that it seemed tho only possi
ble explanation of the events that had been
so puzzling him, and of this sudden deter
mination on the part of Philip.
TO BB CONTINUED.
GARIBALDI'S THREE MARRIAGES.
The General Deserted Hie Second Wife
Immediately After the Wedding.
From the Galiynani Messenger.
Manlio Garibaldi, the youngest son of
Garibaldi, who is a lieutenant in
army, is about to marry the daughter of
Prof. Paulo Mantegazza, who, besides being
an eminent physician and author, is also an
Italian senator. In Italy Mantogazza’s
works are widely road, and they have also
been translated into English, French and
German. His most remarkable work is tho
“Fisiologia del Placore,” (Physiology of
Pleasure).
Manlio Garibaldi Is ths son of Garibaldi’s
third wife. It is not generally known that
the illustrious general had three wives. His
second is never counted, for he left her im
mediately after marriage. The lady’s name
was Raimondi, and she was of nob e family.
She was a great patriot, and c ooperated
with Garibaldi in the Lombard campaign.
Her valor exoited the general’s admiration,
so he proposed to her and she consented.
Something, however, came to Garibaldi's
knowledge immediately after the civil cere
mony, and he there and then left her never
to return. Some years ago there was a
lawsuit in Rome respecting the succession to
Garibaldi’s projierty, and the Countess
Raimondi claimed that, as her son was born
in wedlock, he should bo participator in the
estate. This claim was disallowed, and a
divorce was pronounced.
Afterward Garibaldi married Manlio’s
mother, who for years was his housekeeper
during bis sojourn in the island of Caprera.
The Countess Raimondi is sUU alive, and
resides near Milan. Signora Garibaldi is
going to marry a Roman physician, so that
Italy at the same time will be making merry
over the marriage of mother and son.
PAGES 9 TO 12.
FUR COATS AT F.KDFERN’B.
Sketches of Fur Garments Already
Prepared.
New York, Oct. 4.—. Though it is still
rather early to be thinking of fur coats and.
wrafi*, the prudent woman is she who take*
time by the forelock to the extent, at least,
of studying the new styles, and making up
her mind which of them will 1 eat suit her
individual peculiarities of fact and figure.
A medium length coat of black Persian
lamb, is made with straight, loose front*
and fastening a little te f right side. Tha
sieves aro a trifle raised on the shoulder*
and flare at the bottom in bell shape, and
tho oollar is very high, slightly rolled on
tho edge and fastens with a p in led strap on
the left side. A slit pocket is in the lefts
lower comer, a id the whole thing, although
quite devoid of trimming, is very rich auit
elegant. A low-crowned turban with
pointed flap on its crown, giv<3 the Hals Ik
ing touch team wt becoming tig.
The other coat, as here presented, is th*
latest idea in sealskin short coats, k'ti pat*
ant, bo it remarked that it was in answer
to a direct appeal made some year s ago by
the Princess of Wales, who was tired of tho
ngly sealskin sacivies then la vogue, t.hab
the noted tailor to whom her royal high
ness owes much of hor stylo originated tha
snug-fitting seal coat. In the above illus
tration it is übuut the length o C
the spring c ats, tbit s, c ivering
the hips, and springing ojien a little iu front
at the bottom. It is coverud over th*
shoulders with n trimming which simulatea
u small oape, pointed on each breast, and
fastening with four straps. This, and tha
caps on the shoulders, as well ar the deep!
cuffs, are of the natural seal, bordered with
a rod of the other. The jaunty turban ia
made t% match and is trimmed with an
aigrette at the back.
The Ooean Cables of the World.
From October Scribner.
According to the latest rep >rt of the In
ternational Bureau of Telograph Adminis
trations, the submarine telegraph system ofi
the world consists of 11)0,070 nautical miles
of cable. Government administrations own
12,524 miles, w’.lle 107,M i are the property
of private companies. The total cost ofi
t"ese cables is in the neighborhood ofi
$300,000,000. The largest owner of subma
rine cables is the Eastern Telegraph Com
pany, whose system oovors the ground from
England to India, and comprises 21.800
miles of cable. The Eastern Extension
which exploits the fur ea.t. has 12,958 miles
more. Early in last year the system ofi
West African cables, which started from
Cadiz only six year* ago, was completed to
Cape Town, so that the dark condnent ia
now completely encircled by submarine
telegraph, touching at uumomus points
along the coast. More than 17,000 miles ofi
cable have been required to do this, and
several companies, with more or less aid
from the British, French, Spanish and
Portuguese governments, have participa od
in carrying out the work.
The North Atlantic is spanned by no les
than oleven cables, all laid sitioe 1870.
though I think not all are working at ths
present time; five companies are engaged
in forwardiug telegrams between North
America and Europe, and tha total length
of the cables owner! by them, including
o >ast connections, is over 30,000 nautical
miles.
Stum tachtino is an exceptionally costly
pastime. The, New York Yard s Ctufefe flout of
seveaty-six steamers is estimated to be wr r h
$7,000,000. and Commodore Gerry is said id
spend $30,000 a year on his hloctra alone.
