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• • life Mystery of a Silent! Love
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• 1, furnish me with a clue,”
. hirrud quickly. ‘.‘Yes, try am>
or who she is.”
..a the woman you expected
-! a very dpar friend.”
u not tt'll me her name?” 1
v ou’d be unfair to her,” she
decisively, an answer
mo was particularly tanta-
quite dark, when I teak leave
ri lit lilt!" companion, who,
and t uncomplaining,
my hand and wished me good
in my investigation.
T)fj g t nine that nigh! 1 pulled
do cart, before the chief police
at Dumfries, and alighting at
ibt tiie big fair Highlander
>, with whom I had had tho
’.ion on tiie previous day.
i v - ware seated in his room
i the hissing gas jet, I related
. i nture and the result of my in-
tion.
lie cried,, jumping up.
. unearthed another body-a
vo. And what Is more, I can
r her," I replied. “Her name
ida, and site was wife of the
1 d man Olinto Santlnl."
a bo i ll husband and wife were
liout, a doubt—a double trag-
t the two men who concealed the
Will you describe them?”
r. o, an T lie wrote at my dicta-
I calling in one of his sub-
ora, gave him instructions for
nmediate circulation of the de-
icn to all the police stations in
. itv, saying the two men were
I on a charge of willful murder,
lips were pressed together in
i dissatisfaction as he asked:
body is still in the glen, where
oft it?”
If you wish, I will take you
! spot. I can drive you and your
id up there.”
Dainty. Let us go,” lie ex-
. d, rising at once and ringing his
i three good lanterns and some
> and put them in this gentla-
1, ;> outside,” hjs said to the
- able who iwiswered his lunnou
I terll Gilbert Campbell that I wwit
l te gu with me up to f Rannoelt
cl.”
asked: “Whan do yew expect to
;; tolsfiram from your friend, tlw
Hi at Leghorn? I am anxious far
. in order that we may commenie
nos in Londbn.”
he day after tomorrow, I lioje.
v. il) certainly reply at once, pro-
i ■: tbe dead man's father can
found."
that moment a tall, thin man, who
. mI to be Detective Campbell, eti-
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“Look! Look, Mr, Gregg!”
red. and five minutes later we were
: M three driving over tiie uneven cob-
;■ s of Dumfries and out in the dark-
-s towards Rannoch. When we
ached (lie wood we i.U descended
. ;id, with Mackenzie and Campbell
frying lanterns, walked on carefully,
ng straiglrt on in tfi - direction of
gb'n, and halting every now and
u to listen for the rippling ot tho
111.
t last, after some difficulty, wre dis-
' w i it, and searching al-ong the
Lie with our three powerful light, I
presently detected the huge moss-
own bowlder whereon I had stood
lien the pair of fugitives had disap-
ared.
“Look!” I cried. “There’s the spot!”
And quickly we clambered dowm the
steep bank, tottering ourselves by
something, anil stooping ho picked it
up and examined the little object by
the aid of bis lantern.
Within his palm I saw lying a tiny
little gold cress, about an inch long,
enameled in rid. while In the center
was a circular miniature of n kneeling
saint, an elegant and beautifully exe¬
cuted little trinket which might have
adorned a lady’s bracelet.
“This is a pretty little thing!” re¬
marked the detective. “It may possi¬
bly lord us to something. But, Hr.
Gregg,” he added, turning to me, “are
you quite certain you left the body
here?”
“Certain?” I echoed. "Why, look at
the hole I made. You don't think I
have any interest ip leading you here
on a fool’s errand, do you?”’
"Not at all,” lie paid apologetically.
"Only tiie whole affair seems so very
Inconceivable I mean that the men.
having onco got rid of tho evidence of
their crime, would hardly return to the
spot and reobtain possession ,f it.”
“Euless they watched me exhume it.,
ami fsared the consequences if it fell
into your hands,” 1 suggested.
“Of course they might have watched
you from behind the trees, and when
you had gone they came and carried
it away somewhere else,” ho remarked
dubiously; “but even if they did, it
must bo In tiiis wood. They would
never risk carrying a body very far,
and here is surely the best place of
concealment in the whole country.”
Hie only thing remaining . is , to
search the wood at daylight, I sug¬
gested. “If the two men came hack
here during my absence they may still
be on the watch in the vicinity.”
“Most probably they are. We must
take every precaution,” he said deci¬
sively.
At dawn Mackenzie, with four of liis
men, made a thorough examination of
the wood, but although they continued
until dusk they discovered nothing,
neither was anything heard of (lie mys¬
terious seafarer and his companion in
brown tweeds.
I called on Muriel and explained
how the body had so suddenly disap¬
peared, whereupon she stared at me
pale faced, saying:
“The assassin* must have watched
us! They are aware, then, that we
have knowledge of their crime?”
“Of course,” I said.
“Ah!” she cried hoarsely. “Then we
are both in deadly peril—peril of our
awn lives! These peoplo will hesitate
at nothkig. Both you and I are marked
down by them, without a doubt. We
must both be tvary not to fall into any.
trap they may lay for us.”
Her very words seemed an admis¬
sion that she was aware of the identity
of the conspirators, and yet she would
give mo no clue to them.
Next day 1 accompanied the party
over to Glenlea, about live miles dis¬
tant, and at noon at a spot previously
arranged, we found the ladies awaiting
us with luncheon spread under the
trees. As soon as we approached
Muriel came forward quickly, handing
me a telegram, saying that it had been
sent over by one of my uncle’s grooms
at the moment they were leaving the
castle.
I tore it open eagerly and read its
contents. It was from Frank Hutch¬
eson in Leghorn, and read:
Maili' inquiries. Olinto Sn ntini married
your servant Armkki nt Italian consulate-
generul in London about a year ago. They
live G4B Albany Road, Camberwell; he is
employed waiter Ferrari’s restaurant,
West bourne G rove.—B ri t ish Consulate,
Leghorn.
That night, after calling upon the
detective, Mackenzie, I took the sleep¬
ing car express to Euston. The res¬
taurant which Hutcheson had indicated
was, 1 found, situated about halfway
up Westbourne Grove, nearly oppo¬
site Whiteley’s. It was soon after nino
o’clock when I entered the long shop
with its rows of marble-topped tables
and greasy lounges of red plush. An
unhealthy-looking lad was sweeping
out the place with wet sawdust, and a
big, dark-bearded, flabby-faced man in
shirt sleeves stood behind the small
counter polishing some forks.
“I wish to see Signor Ferrari,” I said,
addressing him.
“There is no Ferrari, ho is dead,” re¬
sponded the man in broken English.
“My name is Odinzoff. I bought the
place from madame.”
“I have come to inquire after a
waiter you have in your service, an
Italian named Santini. He was my
servant for some years, and I naturally
take an interest in him.”
‘'Santini?” he repeated. “Oh, you
mean Olinto? He is not here yet. He
comos at ten o’clock."
This reply surprised me. I had ex-
Pected the restaurant keeper to ex-
press regret at his disappearance, yet
be spoke as though he had been at
work as usual on the previous day.
“You find Olinto a good servant, I
suppose?” I said, for want of some-
thing else to say.
“Excellent. The Italians are the best
waiters in the world. I am Russian,
but I dare not employ a Russian wait-
er. These English would not come to
my ehop If I did.”
“How long has Olinto been with
you?” 1 Inquired
“About a ye; r —perhaps a little
more. 1 trust him imrlicitiy, and I
leave him i > charge when 1 go away
for holidays. He does not got r lor. z
v ;y v.ell wilh the coolt v, 1:is Mi¬
lanese. These Italians from different
provinces always quarrel,” ho added,
laughing. “If you live in Italj you
know that, no doubt.”
I laughed in choius and then, gl: nr
mg at my wat'li, raid: “I’ll vail fei
him, if he will be hero at tr.:i. I’d
much like to see him again ”
Tho Russian was by no tm ans non¬
plused, but m rely run . J: "He i--
late Bomctimes. but mi of :i Helli¬
on the other side of Lorn n—over at
' amborw oil.’'
Suddenly a ride d or opr nod and the
cook put his head in to s-poak with
is ni. st r in French He was a typi¬
cal Italian, about forty, with d rk nius-
lachrs turned upn-vds, a.d an easy¬
going. careless ir.aufr. Seeing mo,
however and b<Tirving im to ho a cus¬
tomer, lie turned and closed the door
quickly. In that instant I noticed lbs
high broadness of his shoulders, and
bis hick struck mt as strangely sinii
lar to that of the man in brown -whom
we had seen dicappearing in Rannoch
wood.
Th" suspicion held me brcathD'an
I’rc 1 entl/Odiiuoff went ouAlde. ear
rying with liirn two boards upon which
the menu of the “Eightpenny hunch-
eon! This Day!” was written in
scrawly characters, and i 'occei:! d to
affix them to tiie shop from
This was my opportunity, and quick
as thought I moved toward r v.Tic-r.e the
unhealthy youth was at work, and
whispered:
“I’d give you half-a-sovereign it
you’ll answer iny questions truthfully.
Now, tell me, was the cook, the man
I’ve Just, seen, here yesterday?”
“Emilio? Yes, sir.”
“Was he here the day before?”
“No, sir. He’s been away ill fer
four days.”
“And your master?”
I had no time to put any further
question, for the Russian re-entered at
thRt moniont . and tho yrath hHskli
himself rubbing the front of the conn
ter in pretense that I had not spoken
to him. Indeed, I had some difficulty
in slipping the premised coir, into his
hand at a moment when his master
was not looking.
While I stood there a rattier thin, re¬
spectably dressed man catered and
seated himself upon one cf the plush
lounges at the farther end, removed
his bowler hat and orderc 1 from the
proprietor a chop and a pot of tea.
Then, taking a newspaper from his
pocket, he settled himself to read, ap¬
parently oblivious to liis surroundings.
And yet as I watched I saw that over
the top of his paper lie was carefully
taking in tiie general appearance of
the place, and his eyes were keenly
following the Russian’s movements.
So deep was his interest in the place,
and so keen those dark eyes of his,
that the truth suddenly dawned upon
me. Mackenzie had telegraphed to
Scotland Yard and the customer sitting
there was a detective who had come
to investigate. I had advanced to the
counter to chat again with the proprie¬
tor when a quick step behind me
caused me to turn.
Before me stood the slim figure of a
man in a straw hat and rather seedy
black jacket.
“Dio Signor Padrone!” be cried.
I staggered as though I had received
a blown
Olinto Santini in the flesh, smiling
and well, stood there before mei
CHAPTER VJII.
Life's Counter-Claim.
No word of mine can express my ab¬
solute and abject amazement when I
faced the man, whom 1 had seen ly¬
ing cold and dead upon that gray stone
slab in the mortuary of Dumfries.
My eye caught the customer who,
on the entry of Olinto, had dropped
his paper and sat staring at him in
wonderment. The detective had evi¬
dently been furnished with a photo¬
graph of the dead man, and now, like
myself, discovered him alive and liv¬
ing.
“Signor Padrone!” cried the man
whose appearance was so absolutely
bewildering. “How did you find me
here? I admit that I deceived you
when I told you I worked at the Mi¬
lano,” he went on rapidly in Italian.
“But it was under compulsion—my ac¬
tions that night were not my own—
but those of others.”
“Yes, I understand,” I said. “But
come out into the street. I don’t wish
to speak before these people. Your
padrone knows Italian, no doubt.” And
turning with a smile to the Pole, I
apologized for taking away his serv¬
ant for a few minutes.
And when we w'ere outside, Olinto
walking by my side in wonderment,
I asked suddenly:
"Tell me. Have you ever been in
Scotland—at Dumfries?”
“Never, signor, in my life. Why?”
“Answer me another question,” I
said quickly. “You married Arjnida
at the Italian consulate. Where is
she now—where is she this morn¬
ing?”
He turned pale, and *1 saw a com¬
plete change in his countenance.
“Ah, signore!” he responded, “I
only wish I could tell.”
“I cast no reflection whatever upon
you, Oiiuto; I have merely inquired
after your wife, and you do not give
me a direct reply.”
We had walked to the Royal Oak,
and stood talking on the curb outside.
“I give you no reply, because I
can’t,” he said in Italian. “Armida—
my poor Armida—has left home.”
“Why did you tell me such a tale of
distress regarding her?"
“Ab I have already explained, sig-
nore, I was not then master of my
own actions. I was ruled by others.
Cut I saved your life at risk of my
own. Some day, when it is safe, I
will reveal to you everything.”
“Let us allow the past to remain,”
I sakl. “Where is your wife now?”
He hesitated a moment, Icok-ing
straight into rny face.
“The truth is, Signor Commend®- I
tore, that my wife has mysteriously !
disappeared, hast Saturday at eleven |
o’clock she was talking over the gar- ‘ j
den wail with a neighbor, and was i
then dressed but to go from out. that She moment apparent- |
ly went out, no ;
one has seen or heard of her.” J
It was on the tip of truth, my tongue yet to j
tell him the ghastly so j
strange was the circumstance that lito |
own double, even to the mole upon his j
face, should be lying dead and buried I
in Scotland that I hesitated to relate j
what f knew. j
“She spoke English, I suppose?”
“She could make herself understood
very well,” he raid with a sigh, and 1
raw a heavy, thoughtful look upon his
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Gfinto Santini in the Flesh, Smiling
and Well, Steed There Before Me.
brow. That lie was really devoted to
her, I knew. With the Italian of
whatever station In life, love is all-
consuming—it is either perfect love
or genuine hatred. The Tuscan char¬
acter is one of two extremes.
I glanced across the road, and saw
that the detective who had ordered
his chop and coffee had stopped to
light his pipe and was watching us.
“But why haven't you told the po¬
lice?”
“I prefer to make inquiries for my¬
self.”
“And in what have your inquiries re¬
sulted?”
“Nothing—absolutely nothing,” he
said gravely.
“You do not suspect any plot? I
recollect that night in Lambeth you
toid me you had enemies?”
“Ah! so I have, signore—and so
have you!” he exclaimed hoarsely.
“Yes, my poor Annida may have bsen
entrapped by them,”
“And if entrapped, what then?”
“They would kill her with as lit¬
tle compunction as they would a fly,”
ho said. “Ah! you do not know the
oailousness cf these people. I only
hope and pray that she may have es¬
caped and is in hiding somewhere, and
will arrive unexpectedly and give me
a startling surprise. She delights in
startling me,” he added with a laugh.
“Then,you think she must have been
called aw r ay from home by some urg¬
ent message?” I suggested.
“By the manner in which she left
things, it seemed as though she went
away hurriedly. There were five sov¬
ereigns in a drawer that we had
saved for the rent, and she took them
with her.”
I paused, hesitating whether to tell
him the terrible" truth. I recollected
that the body had disappeared, there¬
fore what proof had I of my alHga-
tion that she had been murdered ?
“Tell me, Olinto,” I said as ve
moved forward again in the direction
of Paddington station, have you any
knowledge of a man named I.c
court?” 'started
He sudcU-n’y and looked at
me.
“I have heard of him,” he answered
very lamely.
“And of his daughter—Muriel?”
“And also of her. But I am not ac-
quainted with them—nor, to tell the
truth, do I wish to be.”
“Why?”
“Because they are enemies of mine
“m^decffiraiSi was strange, for it
threw some light upon the tragedy in
Rannoch wood.
“And of your wife, also?”
“I do not know that,” he respond-
od. “My enemies are my wife’s also,
I suppose.”
“You have not tcld me the secret cf
that dastardly attempt upon me when
we last met > 1 sai(1 in a low voice -
“Why not tell me the truth? I surely
t0 kaow who m - v enemies really
are > so as t0 warned against any
future plot,
“ You sha11 know some day, signore,
* dare not tell you now.
“You said that before,” I exclaimed
with dissatisfaction. “If you are
faithful to me, you ought at least to
ants have described the whole affair
down In (lie village, to th : a no doubt
about it. I.cithcourt allowed Muriel
tho telegram and urged her to ily. At
fl’-st s’io refused, but for h<r father's
sake was induced to prepare to nccom
pany him. OC course, t ie guests were
in ignorance of all th-’s. The brougham
was ordered to be ready in the stable
yard and not to go iour.3, while Mrs.
Loithcourt’s maid tried to bring tho
to ller senses. i.dthcourt
himself, it seemed, rushed hither and
thither, seizing the. jewel i uses of his
W jf e an( j daughter and whatever vain¬
aWes c011 id place his hand upon,
while the mother and daughter were
putting on their things, As ho rushed
dow n the r.-r.hi -taircaie to the library,
where his check book and rente ready
cash worn locked in the safe, he met a
stranger who had Just been admitted
and K \>;, iVn R,i,o> the room. Leithcourt
doted the doer and faced him. What
alio:ward transpired ho- over, ii a
mystery, for two lions later, cx.cpwl, after In | j
r.r.d the. two women had i-av .
Ing the house party to their own diver
found locked '
glens, the stranger was
in a large cupboard and insensible.
The sensation was a tremendous one
Cowan, the doctor, was celled, rnd de¬
clared that the stranger -fce-d been
drugged and was suffering from some
narcotic. Tho servant who admitted
him declared that the man had said
he hed n pppefntmcnt with his master
and that no card was necessary. He,
however, gave the name of Chater.”
“Chater!” I ciied. skirting up. “Are
you certain cf that name?”
“I only know' what Cowan tcld me,”
was my uncle’s reply. “But do you
knovv him?”
“Net at all. Only I’ve heard that
name before,” I said. “I knew a man
out, in Italy of the same name. But
where is the visitor now?”
“In the hospital at Dumfries. They
took him there in preference to leav-
ing him alone at Rannoch.”
“Alone?”
“Of course. Everyone has left, now
the host and hostess have slipped off
; without saying good-by. Scandalous
affair, i-n’t it? But, my boy, you'll re-
I member that I always said I didn't
; like those people. There’s something
| mysterious about them, I Iced certain.
That telegram gave them warning-of
■ the visit cf the man Chaser, depend
j upon if, and for some reuseu they're
I afraid of him. It would bo interesting
to know what transpired between the
| two men in the library. And these are
j people wlio've been taken up by every¬
body—mere adventurers, I should call
them!” And old Sir George miffed
again at thought of such scandal hap¬
pening in the neighborhood. “If Gilrae
must iet Rannoch, then why in the
name cf Fortune doesn’t he Jet it to
respectable folk and net to the first
fellow who answers his advertisement
in the Field? It’s simply disgraceful!’’
“Certainly it is a most extraordina-ry
story,” I (leelaTed- “Leithcourt evi¬
dently wished to escape f-ram his vis¬
iter, and that’s why he drugged him.”
“Why lie poisoned him, you mean.
Cowan says the fellow is poisoned, but
that he'll probably recover. He is al¬
ready conscious, I hear.”
I resolved to call cn the doctor, who
happened to bo well known to me, and
obtain further particulars. Therefore
at eleven o’clock I drove into Dum¬
fries and entered his consulting room.
lie was a spare, short, fair man, a
trifle bald, and when I was shown in
he welcomed me warmly, speaking
with his pronounced Galloway accent.
“Well, it is a very mysterious case,
Mr. Gregg,” lie said, after I had told
him the object of my visit. “The gentle¬
man is still at the hospital, and 1 have
to keep him very quiet. He was poi¬
soned without a doubt and has had a
very narrow escape cf his life. The
police got wind of the affair and Mac¬
kenzie called to question him. But he
refused to make any statement what¬
ever, apparently treating the affair
very lightly. The police, however, are
mystified as to the reason of Mr. Leith-
court’s sudden flight, and are very anx¬
ious to get at the bottom of the curious
affair.”
“Naturally. And more especially
after tke tragedy up in Rannoch wood
a short tim t ego,” I said.
“That’s just it,” said the doctor, re¬
moving his pince-ne’z and rubbing
them. “Mackenzie seems to suspect
some connection between Leithcourt’s
sudden disappearance and that mys¬
terious affair. It seems very evident
th::t the telegram was a warning to
Leithcourt of the man Chater’s inten-
j tion of calling, and that tiie last-named
l was shewn in just at the moment
| © leaving. , :n t: , ‘f fu S‘ tive was ™ P°^t of
I Knowing .. . all that I end, .. I not
was sur-
j Leithcourt had undoubtedly
| taken him . unawares, , but knights , of in¬
dustry never betray each other.
I My next visit w r as to Mackenzie, for
whom I had to wait nearly an hour,
I j as he was absent in another quarter of
tho towm.
, “Aih, Mr. Gregg!” he cried gladly, as
he came in to find me seated in a chair
patiently reading the newspaper. “You
| : are the very person I w ish to see. Have
i cf this strauge affa5r at
“I have,” was my answer. “Has the
man in the hospital made any state¬
j ment yet?”
“None. He refuses point blank,” an-
I swered the detective “But my own
idea is that the affair has a very close
j connection with the two mysteries of
the wood.”
, “The first mystery—that of the man
| —proves to be a double mystery,” I
! said.
“IIow r ? Explain it.”
i “Well, the waiter Olinto Santini is
i alive and well in London.”
“What!” he gasped, starting up.
“Then he is not the person you identi¬
fied him to be?”
“No. But he was masquerading a*
Santlnl— made up to resemble him, I
mean, even to the mole upon Ilia face,
“But you identified him positively?'’
, is dead , it J is very
“When a person Dextl^
easy to mistake countenances.
alters th >. countenance so very muc!?.
"That's true,” he said reflectively.
“But if the man we’ve buried is net
the Italian, then the mystery is con¬
siderably increased. Why was tho
real man's wife here?”
"And where has her body been con¬
cealed? That’s the question.”
“Again a mystery. We have made a
thorough search for four days, without
discovering any traco of it. Quite con¬
fidentially, I’m wondering if this in; n
Chater knows anything. It is curious,
to say the least, that the Leithcouris
should have tied so hurriedly on this
man’s appearance. But have you ac
tually seen Olinto Santini?”
"Yes, and have spoken with him.”
“I sent up to London asking that in¬
quiries should he made at the res¬
taurant in Bayswatsr, but up to the
present 1 h :\e received no report.”
“I have chatted with Oiiuto. H.'s
wife has mysteriously disappeared,
but ho is in ignorance that she is
dead.”
“There i3 widespread conspiracy
here, depend upon it, Mr. Gregg, it
will be an interesting case when we
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7.
Leithcourt Closed tho Boor, and Faced
Him.
get to the bottom of it all. l only wish
this fellow Chater would tell us the
reason he called upon Jleitheourt.”
"What does he say?"
“Merely that he haB no wish to
prosecute, and that he has no state¬
ment to make.”
“Can’t you compel him to say some¬
thing?” I asked.
“No, I can’t, That’s the Infernal
difficulty of itA If he don’t choose io
speak, then we must still remain in
ignorance, although I feel confident
that he knows something of the
strange affair up in the wood.”
And although I was silent, I shared
the Scotch detective’s belief.
Tiie afternoon was chili and wet as
I climbed the hill to Greenlaw.
Tiie sudden disappearance of the
tenants of Rannoch was, I found, on
everyone’s tongue in Dumfries. In the
smoke rerm cf the railway hotel three
men were discussing it with many
grimaces and sinister hints, and the
talkative young woman behind the bar
arked me my opinion of the strange
goings-on up at the castle. I decided
that the man who Iiad smoked and
chatted with me so affably cn that hot, 1
breathless night in tiie Mediterranean
must remain in ignorance of my pres¬
ence, or of my knowledge. Therefore
1 stayed for a week at Greenlaw with
eyes and ears open, yet exercising care
that the patient in the hospital should
be unaware of my presence.
The inquiry into the death of the
unidentified man in Rannoch wood had
been resumed and a verdict returned
of willful murder against some person
unknown, while of the second crime
the public had no knowledge, for the
body was not discovered. Chater, as'
j G0Cn a3 recovered, left the hospital
and went south—to London, I ascer¬
tained—leaving the police utterly in
the dark and filled with suspicion ofl
the fugitives from Rannoch. |
One day I called at the castle, the
front entrance of which I found closed.-
Gilrae, the owner, had come up from)
London and discharged all the late!
tenant's Servants, keeping on only hia 1 1
own. Ann Cameron, a housemaid, waa
one of these, and it was she whom
met when entering by the servants'! 4
hall.
On questioning her, I found her most
willing to describe how she was iir
the corridor outside the young miss
tress’ room when Mr. Leithcourfi
dashed along in breathless haste heard, withj
tho telegram in his hand. She Muriel.]
him cry. “Look at this! Read it,
We must go. Put on your things at-
once, my dear. Never mind about Iug-|
gage. Every minute lost is of conse-,
What!” he cried moment 1
qucnce. a
later. “You won’t go? You’ll stay,
here—stay here and face them? Good
heavens! girl, mad? Don’t 1
are you means!
you know what this means? It is!
that the secret is out—the secret |
out, you hear! We must fly!” dis^
, The woman told me that she
tinctly heard Miss Muriel sobbing]
while her father w r alked up and dowa
the room speaking rapidly In a and low
tone, Then he came out again ’ 1
•
(Oqntinu^d.)