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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times, 1888-10-11, Page 2Wow Ftenew PVIIMEMED.] AND f Arm linitiehs Reseavarel Tie ., . By M. E. BRAPDON, Autho o "LADy Atinewe's Smenlee, '4 WVYZARD 8 WEIRD," Ewa., Fere. OHAFT,Ele IT was Zia BRAND On CAM' Mr& Baddeley was very tired of the riv- er Chad, and 0 the to garden where the ()remises shirred the lawn with their golden cups. It was all very rural and fresh and -Innocent, but the lead an aching void where tier heart should have been, and longed for London dissepetione as. the only anodyne for care. The good kind fellow, whom she heti talked of so cheerily last season while he was broiling under an Ionian sun, was on Iiia way home now, and she could not think without some uneasiness of the manner in which he would take things when he should arrive, good natuied as he was. It le not a pleasant thing for a husband to mine home, and findi a sheaf of hills, and law y eraletters, and Coutity Centre mem- mouths awaiting him, or to find his house- hold goods sullect to a bill of sale held. by a West end dressmaker ; and tide win exactly the condition of airs that awaited Major Beddeley. He was to leave Bombay early in February, and now February and the crocuees were here, and in all prokability the Major had started, "I dealt get a telegram from Aden before I know where I am," said the anxious wife. " I think I ought to go back to London, Dad.' " You can at least stay till you get your telegram." Mrs. Beddeley sighed, yawned, and re- newed her novel. The romances supplied by Madio were her only resources in this sleepy cot -leery life. She, who in London seldom opened a book, devoured three volumee in a day. "Por Frank 1 How I wish somebody would leave him a fortune 1" she said, with her eyes on the page. "He woulcl be such a perfect husband if he had only three or four thousand a year. How long is your friend Mr. Melnotte to stem. with us ?" "Does he bore you?" "Not at all. He is very inoffensive, and he plays ecarte with you of an evening, but I can't quite understand why you asked him here." "There is more in him than anybody supposes," replied the Colonel quietly. " I like his conversation, and if you are going to desert me, I shall keep him as long as I can " Leo yawned assent. The African traveller had not Inspired the feantest intereat in her thoroughly feminine breast. Her only idea of sport was a prettily shaped horse that went like the wind, and a perfectly fitting habit. Big game and the hardships of life in the desert had no at tractions f or her fency. After luncheon she went out for a long ramble by the river, not because she loved the river or the landscape, but because the knew that open-air exercise was good for her figure and complexion. Mr. Melnotoe was out and about almost all day. He seemed to be as keenly interest- ed in rustic explorations and village gossip as in the perilous adventures of the desert. He made friends everywhere, talked to every one, and had a pleasant, homely way, -which put every one at even with him. He was out on the day after Valentine's departure, when Sir Adrian called at Colonel Deverill's cottage early in the afternoon. He was shown into the drawingwoorn. Mrs. Baddieley was out walking, the butler told him, but the Colonel was az home. The Colonel was not very prompt to ap- pear, having lately Beetled himself in a com- fortable arm.thair by the dining -room fire, to sleep off the effects of a heavy lance, and a pint of dry sherry. Adrian was left to him- self for at least ten minutes, during which time he walked up and down the drawing - room restlesely, full of thought. There was a small writing table in one of the windows, and a chair in front of it, which looked as if it had been occupied that morn- ing. On the table there waa a pile of volumes with the label of the Royal Geographical Society upon all. of, them, and beside the books there was ate inkstand and a blotter. Sir Adrian.haa the curiosity to look at these books. ' Cameron, Livingstone, Stan- ley. They wete all books of African travel. Es opened one of the volumes at the places marked with slips of paper. At each of t he marked places he found an anecdote, and every one of those anecdotes had been recited by Mr. Melnotte at the Abbey dinner table or in the Abbey billiard room, as personal adventures. He opened another volume, with the same reeult, and then another, in which there were more selected anecdotes which had not yet been related, stock -in -trade for future evenings. "Valentine was right," he said to himself. "Mr, Melnotte is an impostor." But why was the man there if an imposter? Colonel Daniell was not a man to he token in by any common swindler. There must be some sufficient reason for the presence of this sham explorer. Was there some hidden motive in his visit to the Colonel; some motive whine involved danger ta Valentine? Adrian had been not a little perplexed by Colonel Deverill's choice of that river side cottage as a winter reeideace, and now it seemed to him thee Mein otte was a mysterious ally of the Colonel's, who had been brought there to act as a spy upon the inmates of the Abbey. To suppose this was to suppose that Hel- en's father suspected the derk secret, of his daughter's fate, and buch a supposition was Id ll of terror. Colonel Deverill came into the room while Adrian was Will standing by the table, with Cameron's book in his hand. Be put it down as he went torward to meet the Col- onel. " Your friend Melnotte seems fund of reading other' people's adventures," he said, carelesely. The Colonehgleneed from his visitor to the books on the table, Mid it come accepted the BiblettiOD. he is never eo happy as when he has his nose in a volume ot travele," he an- swered. " You are not lookbag Oyer ,vell, Adrian. Whitt's the Metter ? ' "Ob, 1 am well enotieh." " Hee a little tothious aleout your brother," pureuetd the Colonel, watching Sir Adrian's time as he spoke. "I met Niro. Fremantle irt my stroll this morning, tend the told me yott were all of you uheasy about Mr. Ben field, end that you wanted him to travel." •4'YeS IAO is out of health and out of epirits." " Itveryboely has noticed tho change in hitt, eThere has been a deepet gloom than hushande tishelly fall bath ender Odell elm cumatendoe. Moat met( Welke their troubleg prettmlightly, now-a-daye," Adrian wee 'silent • "1 hope so. There is nothtng decided, and Valeutine is not given to allowing other people to inauage his life. kb e went up to town yesterday to look about him." " Olt, he has gone to London, has he? Where does he put up?" "1 really don't know. At the Great Western, moat likely, if he took the train for Paddington. If he travelled by the other line, he may have gone to the Grand." "You have not heard from lune anise he left." "Io; he is not fond of letter writing. He will telegraph if he has anything to say to me." The conversation drifted on indifferent matters, but was far from lively. Celonel Deverill had a preoccupied air, and looked out of the window oftener than was natural to a well-mannered Irishman. Adrian was full of uneasysuspicions about alr Melnotte and his business in the neighbourhood. He was rising to leave when the butler flung open the door and an- nounced "Lord Si. Austell." "By Jove, this is an unexpected plea- sure," said the Colonel, and before lee could recover from his tturprise Sir Adrian passed St. Auetell with the ooldest possible salute, tion, nodded good bye to his host, and de- parted. "What brings you into this part of the world ? ' asked Colonel Deverill, when the door had shut upon Adrian." "1 want to know the result of Melnotte's investigations, e.nd I was sick of wahine; for etters. Be has been very slow." "Yes ; he has been tumomnionly slow. I oan get nothing out of him. And now Bel. field has given us the slip. If there hae been foul illy, he may be on his way to America by this time—safe out of reach before we can move a step. He went up to London yesterday." "1 know he did," answered .Si. Austell. "1 met him in the station at Exeter." "Von did? Strange." "Yes, it was a strange meeting, for it confirmed my darkest suspicion& We met face to face, Deverill—met and passed each other ; and if ever I saw the face of a mur- (tame slewiy forefaed to meet him, a bleak Intedle by her Side, Shaking the Oliver bell op me molar as be an. Anetell's heart genie as the cirety nearer, with the bitteeest afloat, pointment be hied ever fele inhis We, • Leonora Beddeley loedeed at lidin lo Silence for some momenta, helt in oynioal disbelief, half in admiration, Had he but hOred her with such a love int that, she would heve °meted the world well lot for his sake, He had tined to her and had been rejected, becauee she had loved the world's good word better then. she loved him, and perhaps still more, because she doubted the reality of his love. And then efterwards, when she saev his affections transferred to her sister— saw him ever BO muck more earnest in the pursuit of that newer fancy—she discovered her own weaknees, and that he was the one man whom she reelly loved. Tortured by jealousy, she found out how dear he had been to her, he whom she bad treated ea lightly, holding hion at bay with oarelese speeches and silvery laughter, and all the polished arts of a coquette as she had done with a cloud of meaner admirers, Only of late had she known what it was to love and have her love unreturnect You talk vary big," she said, "but you have done nothing to solve the mystery.' "Direobly, nothing; but through your father I hope to actoomplish everyehing." "My poor father. He is very unhappy about Helen." "He will haw° to be still more unhappy, if her fate was as dreadful as 1 think." "Poorlather. 11 would be too hard upon him in his old age. But I cannot believe in this morbid fancy of yours. The mystere of my sister's disappearance has set us all imagining drearlful things. She is safe enough, 1 daresay—hiding herself somewhere and not caring how much we mey all suffer but her." "lf I could only think as much—if I could only hope as much,' St. Austell answered, sadly. They walked back towards the cottage to gether, talking very little, both of them serious and depressed. Mrs. Baddeley was far from being easy in her mind about her sister, although she affected to make light of St. Alistell's fears. CHAPTER XLIL—Teie SECRET OE TEE RIVER. It was ten o clock, and Mrs. Baddeley was sitting by the drawing -room fire with Tory and a novel for her only companions while Lead St. Austell, Colonel Deverill, and Mr. Melnotte remained iv the snug little dining-- derer I saw it thenroom. St. Ausuell and the Colonel sat on , "Bosh 1 Men don't wear the record of t each side of the fire, with their faces in crime on their faces." shadow. Mr. Melnotte was at the table in "This one wore it yesterday. It was the bright light of the large moderator lamp, with a note book in his hand, to which he the brand of Cain. He quailed at the sight referred now and again in the course of his narrative or statement. "You think I have been slow, Lord St. Austell," he said, "and that by my dilatory way of going to work I have lost my man. All I can say is that I don% think I have lost my man, and that this was a case in which precipitate action would have been fatal. 1 had to be sure of my feats before I took any step in the open. of me, at me—Ms wife's lover; the eaten who blighted his married life. Why, if he bad not been the greater sinner, he would have blazed up at sight of me—flown at me like a tiger—tried to strangle me. Wail it natural to turn livid and then pass on, with his eyes fixed on vacancy, pretending not to see me? Was that the conduot of tbe man whom I had wronged—who had the right to call me to account? No, Deverill ; it was the manner of a wretch who knew himsell a hundred times more guilty than I. It was the face of an assassin. And you and Niel- notte have trifled with your chances, have let this consummate scoundrel get clear off before you. have discovered his crime." "1 do not think Melnotte has been idle ; but I ca.n get very little out of him. He is uncommonly close." "Yes, that is a trick of the trade. I be- lieve this one is reedly a clever fellow. He began life as a gentleman and started in his present profession with the advantage of a university education. They think highly of him at Scotland.yard, and he has been in- valuable to me in two or three rather awk- ward affairs. But 1 don't like his letting things hang fire. He has been here long enough to arouse Belfield's suspicions. When do you expect him?' "Any time betadeennow and eight °Mink. He always dines with us, and if you can otay to dinner----'' "Of course I eall stay. I °aerie to Devon. shire to find out what progress you were making. I cannot rest till I know the worst, and if there is a wrong to be aven- ged, I sh9.11 never rest till vengeance has been done. I'll take a stroll and a smoke by the river, and then go back to the inn and dress. I shall be with you soon after seven on the chance of getting some talk with Melnotte before dinner.' He left the Colonel free to go back to his easy chair by the diningmoom fire, his newspapers, cigar and afternoon sleep. Col- onel Deverill was in the lowest spirits, full of vague dread, as one upon the threshold of a ghaztly revelation; but there are phases of physical comfort which can coexist with mental depression, and the Colonel went back to his fireside and his soft, warm chair, his brandy and soda and afternoon slum. hers, as naturally as the dog goes to the hearthrug and coils himself routd by the fender, even after being kicked. St. Austell lighted his cigar and sauntered along by the river, shadowed now by woods that were Meilen, and hills that were bleak and bare. A heron came swooping over the tree tops and down to the water's edge, and etood on one leg in a meditative attitude, waiting to spear the first unwary fish that passed that way. The sky was gray and dull, but the air was mild. It was an at- mosphere suggestive of idleness and languid emotions. St. Actaeon followed the course of the Chad as far as the mouth of that tributary stream which flowed through the grounds of Belfield Abbey, but at this point he turned and went along the narrow woodland path which led to those shrubberied walks where he had last seen Helen Belfield. It was summer then, and the felling° was dense and heavy, fthut- ting out the world beyond that verdant soli. tucle. Now all was bleak and bare, save where the conifers showed darkly green against the dull gray shy. He remembered every turn of the path by which they two bad walked, he pleading, she listening, with drooping head and eyelids heavy with tears. "1 know she loved me," he told himself. " If the bad lived she would have beeh mine. 'm Or if she had ade nether mind th throve nie ovet, and liee her life Without me, the would not have left erie in uncertainty about her fate, she would not have trifled wibh niy lovemnd torttered inc 'for no putt:toe. She is dead, and that Man has neurdeeed her." He was dose to the ispot wheee they feel -set togeehet onder the WillOW upon that lint at ternoon . Yes, there was the oypretie Walk, and there below le 'upon the edge of ' the stream, the great gray trill* of the Willow slanting aorehe the bank, and there the /Rs. tie batch upon which tbey had set Some One WAAI 'sitting there to day *e- ntail in is fer °dee, With 3 Mit theeinine 'Owe- ali curving Hoe cif throat end ishotildeta, and asitalt heed. With heavy Celle. of 'hate ' heart etood ebill alt sigh e Of that figilie. Itt Was chi. She had India livung et the Abbeyalt this elate hi hiding. She Was there) ttle meet within tesielf Of hie:Mink .141 :thest. one delirioeut Moen:lit he lett that he .16Ved, as ho had no:Wet leVed WOinan'Yet, With i&n" Have yeti sUceceded in pettending your uedying liveE. • brother to try change of gideinl 1 She rote at the tentieid Of hie foOtetted "Tho first thing to be done was to find out how, and when, and with whom, Mrs. Belfield left the Abbey on the night on which she was suppesed to have run away, or whether she ever left the Abbey at alt. A long and careful investigation, involving the °rm.-examination of every °facia.' at the station, and every fly -driver in Chad. ford, conviaced me that she did not leave the Abbey on that night, or on the following morning, or on any subsequent occasion. From the hoar in whioh she wrote that letter of which Colonel Deverill informed me she was never seen by mortal eye; unless it werehy Sir Adrian, or his mother, or Mr. Belfield. "1 have a knack pf getting friendly with people upon a very slight pretence, and I contrived to get on friendly terms with Lady Belfield's housekeeper, Mrs. Marrable, an admirable old woman, and as easy to manage as a child; a devoted servant, aril loyal -to the backbone; but an incorrigible prattler. All she wanted was a pretext for prattling and I found one for her. I called one afternoon when the family were oue, and asked, as on the spur of the moment, to see the old oat pannelling, and the carved banniater rails in the gallery over the hale If Mrs. Marrable would be kind enough to show me the upper fl tor, I shoul4 esteem itt a favour, I said; and as I had given the grey-haired footman half -a crown when I dined at the Abbey, he at once produced Mrs. Marrable." "From 1VIrs. Marrable I ascertained that Mr. Belfield was nee at the Abbey at the time of hie wife's disappearance, and had not been there for months; that he did not come there until quite a week af ter that event, when he arrived late in the evening, and told his mother that he had lost money at York Races and had gime over to Paris for a week to revivelis spirits. Mrs. Merralele was certain that he said he had been in Peris. It was a way with him before he was married to go off to Paris at an hour's warning, and she wondered what attraction there could be in ouch a place for a young English gentlemen. "Having asoertained from this good soul that Mr. Beffield had not been at the Abbey on the night of August the 19th, my next badness was to ascertain from other people thee he had been there on that particular night. I had made myself pretty sure of that face from the porter who took his ticket at Chadford Station, before I saw my good Marrable I mule myself surer afterwards when I called at the Station. Hotel and heard how Mr. Belfield had arrived by the midnight train, and had ordered a fey to take him to the Abbey, how pleasantly he had chatted in the bar while the fly was being got ready, and how he had dismissed the carriage half way down the avenue, preferring to Walk the rest of the way. , "This was point number two in my case. It was clear that Mr. Belfield had made a secret visit to the Abbey after midnight, at O time when he was supposed to be at York or in Paris. "The next ening was to arc:over how he contrived to disappear from the neighbour. hood, without having been obeerved at Chad ford station. I had found a fairly intelligen porter and a worthy etation mester alt tha station, and from thee° two I had setiefied myself that neither Mr. Belfield nor hie wif had left Chadford by train, up or down th line, after the night of August 10th. "10 discover Mr. Belfield's manner �f get dug away from the neighbourhoed cost m some time ; but eventually I treced him t Bideford) where.he, Must have gone on foot a thirty tilde walk, endive:0We et thee o'clock on the afternoon of Aligtist 20th he chatter ed Fudging boat, in Which lee Webt round th coat to Buclee wheita he dismissed the beat I took the trotthle &lige to Burle, and her of him there, White° hawite hut fishing all cley the innkeeper told me, and seemed strange i hie manner. /Di tay,ed only We damn an then left in the' coaoh for Inuncteethei H ivas not known there by pone, and he had n heggage, eitaept anight hitt, broth Me con% Which hea evidently bought on hie ettivali The claW eie *Ilia he lett tilde *a the date irthiCh Mrei Maarable had Mentiene for bis return from the Winn 10%144 hands Staring, at the Ore, heal - Pmts. The Bideford boatmen (described idm tavfng relOOt011t to face the reetele of that as Woad beet when he (Motored the leoat. lIelbabhe�me work. .At leet, with. an effirt, he eata biemelf elOwn'at the bottem of the stain I rose' frene his arm -chair; put on his coat end on. an Old i.pg, h4 iiept till sunset, hot it went out There were three young men Warting for a diateme meet as he left the hobel, They went clattering over the bridge, lightiug their cigars, and leaking and laughing, full 9£ Wean jecosity, as it seemed to Bt. Austell. Het alnloet hoped that one of them would be killed, before they mune beck lathe evening. He execrated them for their mirthful inepti- was a very dt rhe4a1ee, end the boatman thought he had something Q11 his mind. They were coasting for nearly three days, the. Wind being against them pare of the time, ahd the gentleman hardly ate anything, but &tith- ed e bottle of brandy which had been got for him Bideford. 1' What did this look like exoept the con, . . duct of a criminal? Then comes hisarrival tude, as they went Jogging upthe stony hill, at the Abbey, and the lie about a.visit to elapping their horses' hunches and avvag- Paris, Heving got as ter as this, I had note the elightest doubt that there lied been a crime mieurnitted tee the Abbey thee night, or in plain words, that Mr. Belfield murdered his wife. He got wind of her feleehood some- gering tu their saddles. He was glad to get away from the old &glitch town, and its fringe of modern villas, to the lonely highroad, and then to the footpath °arose the Park, to that tributary a the Chad which was call- ed the Abbey river, a stream in which many how, came borne and taxed her with it --e is fat and placid lay -brother had fished with there was a row, and he killed her. But' net or line, and placed. his eel.beakete, in the good old monkish days. Si. Austell went down into the deep glehthrough which the river ran, parallel with the railroad. He went by the seam narrow path which he had trodden last August, under the heavy summer foliage. Now the boughs were bare, and the winter sky looked coldly blue behind the dark treaery of leafless twigs. He veent down to the Park, where he met Mrs. Baddeley yesterday af- ternoon. There was no one in tight, ner could he hear the sound of the irons scrap- ing along the pebble bed. If the mon were still at work, they were outeof ear shot. The first glance at hie face told St. Austell that there hed been a ghastly discovery. "Whet are you doing here, Lord St. Austell," said Melnotte hurriedly. "Pray go back. The worst has happened, and you ought not to be seen here. It may you how he killed her, and how he disposed of the body, are two questione that I have not yet solved." Colonel Deverill groaned aloud, as he sot leaning forward in his chair, but he did not utter a word. "Ho may have hidden her soinewhere in that great barrack of a house," said St. Austell, "or he may have buried her in the garden." "It would not be easy to hide a corpse in the lergest house; nor easy to dig a grave between midnight and morning in summer time, such a grave as should not be obvious to every oye. The one safe hiding place would be the river; but that is more then quarter of a mile from the hcuse, at the nearest point." " Why not drag the river ?" asked St. Austell. "1 mean te get it done; but your lord harm by and bye. Teke my advice and geu ship must remember that it is only within away from ti is neighborhood as soon as yens the last few days I succeeded in finding the oan. Bideford boatman, and that it was hie de- " What have they found—where ?" naked scription of his passenger's appearance and St. Auetell, ignoring his advice. conduct which confirmed my suspicion of foul play. There is such a thing as in- stinct; but one mint have some better jus- tification than instinct before taking active steps in a business of this kind." "Itis the fault of your tribe," said St. Austell. "You are all over cautious This me,n beare the brand of Cain on his forehead." "You are right there." He has the crim- inal manner dietinctly tnarked. I se.w thee wheo I tpent an evening in his mother's house, and I was almost as certain then as I am now that he made away with his wife." " When can we gee the river dragged ?" asked the Colonel. "To -morrow at daybreak," answered Melnotte. "1 have engaged a eouple of men to do it. They know what therare to search for, but they will keep their coun- sel, and tell any curious enquirers that I dropped a valuable watch into the stream yesterday afternoon when I was rowing. I hired a boat at the bridge yesterday, and rowed up the Chad and along the Abbey river, and in this place, where everything is knowa that concerns other peo- ple's business, that fact ie sure to be known... The men will begin to drag at a point thee I shall indicate to them nearest to the Abbey, and work down stream for a quarter of is mile—then go back th the same point and work up etrearn. If the body was thrown into the river, it will be found within those li nits." " What if that final evidence is found ? The murderer will have had time to get out of reach of j aetice before a coroner's impost ca,n bring his crime to light," said Sc. Aus- tell. "They have found a body in a deep pool further down the stream—it is her's, there are ample means of reoognition. The long brown hair, a wedding ring and a keeper, a Fenian rug wound round with a silk hand- kechief. If her murderer had taken pains to secure her identification, and to show that she did not throw herself into the river, but was thrown in by somebody else, he could not have done more. Yes, it is very sad, my lord," as if in mower to the agony in St. Austell's countenance "but there is no help. It is all over and done with. It is only what I Expected. You are known to have been with her on the last day of her life, and to have planned an elopement with her. You may be suspected of her murder —who knows." "1 don't care whether I am or not. Where is she?hLet me see her," said St. Austell, trying to peas Mr. Melnotte, who contrived to block the path. "Por G3d's sake don't go that way. The men are carrying their burden to the dead houee. Lot no one who loved her look upon her—let no one but the surgeon see all that death and the river have left of poor humanity. Gime beck to Chadforcl with me, Lord Se Austell, I am going to the Coroner." "What of her murderer? Is he to escape you.' "Not if I can help it. I shall telegraph to &ottani Yard before I see the Coroner, and when I ha.ve seen him I shall get a magis- trate' warrant for alr.Belfield's arrest, and I shall take the first train for Leaden to put the warrant in force." " He will not leave the country very with his brother in the meantime, perhaps. "Sir Adrian will have communicated easily. All the principal ports are being I) Does he know whathes happened ?" "Bat what of the smaller ports? He will get away, if he wants to escameeti "I don't believe he intends flight," said the Colonel. "Sir Adrien's manner was natured enough this afternoon when he talk- ed of his brother having gone up to town, b and the possibility of his travelling sooner or leder. He has held his grcundso long that I see no reason why he should take fright now." "Unless he smells a rat, and suspects Melnotte," said Se Austell. eerrying their burden on a light hand -bier, He remembered how he had stood by her which they must have taken with them side with her hand clesped in hi; and bad from the dead house, in expectation of this said to her, "This promise makes you mine ghastly remit. The burden was covered for ever, love. There must be no e with a black cloth, and they were walking back from your words to -day. To ine-eiotinis slowly in the same direction as St. Austell O pledge as solemn as was ever made before and Melnotte, only a good way behind. the altar. May the worst evil happen to He made no further attempt to see what me if I ever fall away from my fidelity to lay beneath yonder gruesome covering, in - you." He had spoken in good faith- and deed he felt that Melnotte was right, and : now in hi 3 despair, he told himself that thisthat he would not for worlds have looked was the real love of his life, and that it she upon those poor relics of all that he had I had lived he would have been true to her to mired. Let not that horrible image com.e "Not yet, I think. There vvis no one down by the river while the men were e work, excepb a gamekeeper, and I told him my story of having dtcpped my wat3h into the stream, which he seemed to swallow easily enough. I don't think Sir Adrian can have heard anything yet; but there will be plenty of talk, I suppose, when the remains' haee been taken to the dead house." Lord Si. Austell looked back along the river path. He saw the men in the distance e the end. between him and his memory of her fresh young beituty ; let him not be reminded The late winter dawn found St. Austell awake, in his old-fashioned four -post bed at through her of what he himself must be— the hotel by Chadford Bridge. He had been of poor humanity's common doom. He toning about all night, sleepless, walked laack to the town almost in silence, for bind snetches of half unconeciousnseT, and lefc the detective to do his work alone. which were rather waking dreams than ° Melnotte suggested that he se, uld go to the sleep. Not for one instant of that weary cottage and break the newel to Colonel Daverill, but this St. Austell refined. night had Helen's image been absent from "1 can help no men to bear his burden," he said, "my own is too heavy for me." It was part of his burden to know that his unholy love had been the cause uf Helen Belfield's death. If her husband was the murderer it was her lover who had brought about the crime. (to BE CONTINUED.) his thoughts. Again, and again and again he had lived over their last meetiug—recell- ing her looks and tones—her reluctant yield- ing to his prayers—and then her final pro- mise, eolemnly given, time she would be his. "She was beautiful enough to enslave a men for a lifetime," he said to himself. " She had spirit enough to make her a diffi- cult conquest; she was just clever enough to be a delightful Companion for a clever man. She was the one perfect woman whoin I have known." An ex -member of tlae Virginia Legislature He rose at daybreek, worn out by sleep- has been disfranchised for having sent a lessness, and tried to refresh himself with an challenge to a duel. The tendency of the ice cold bath. The hottee was astir early in Southerners to appeal to the code of honour the hunting season, and there was a great in redress for imaginary or real wrongs has cry for baths and boots, and hurrying to and nearly disappeared under the operation of fro of chamber maids in the corridor, by the the law disqualifying any person concerned time Lord St. Austell wee dressed. His in a duel, either DM principal or seoond, from breakfast was ready in the pretty sitting- helding public office, and the recent sentence room looking on th the road and the river, inflicted in Virginia will no doubt cause the at eight o'clock, but he was OA little able 13 lastiremnants of the practice to disappear in eat as he had been to eleep. He sat staring the North. Every American hes, if not is at the fire, and sipping a cup of tea, while hope, an idea, that he may be offered a pub. he pictured to himself what the men Were lic position during some portiot of his career, doing in the Abbey river. and the disqualifieetion law, has had more • He had intended to be down there at dow, effect in suppressing duelling than all the break and to watch them et their work from criminal penalties which could be 'Malted. the beginning. He had thought about it all night, but when the morning light came, his courage felled him. It was all too A Business Scheme gh liisahritellYo'vedliwtoshe'wWoultlodsedesamthilehaerveunastcod have "Why do you as ed a citizen) of a tramp. Wet of you fel- k for ten °mate t" denuhd- been hie Aurora, who was to have lookeri lows only aide for a pently." upon him in the happy dawn, in the gled "Yes, sir," politely tospinded the tramp, beginning of each new day. HoW would and if they are repulsed their omits hopolese. she have fared in that (told (nuct1e,. where with nee 1 can (Weer beaganne.....simigheee they were tanking her? Fot the Mete time prices. In this case I een Willing th make a dead reduction of five cents, thus enabling you, my dear she to oorne to the &sentence of is deservibg but despairing fellow being, with the plearient feeling that you are riot °illy doing good, but doing it at fifty centl on the dollar," Suppressing Duelling, mime hie boyhood, he prayed With all the strength and fervour of a believer—forget- Hog. his seepticierne his so.elology, hit petsimitm; enetythieg, exeept the mental agony Which wrung that prayet froth Min. Ile prayed that the Men with the dtags might not find he. That elm might still he living, Met to him, perheme, but living and lovely us she had been when lett he looked Preparing For War up_no her face. Mr& Stnith—"Do you think liew Vork . tht hetoalithetlbollitritbSyt thhhir aantathietrwkott7rcthittateee will be bombarded by ties Wpgitew troteladtif 1,ty, iihnith."1 eheuldn'e be surprised,' bmw be.arlY 661 hOr 6°' waVr. to the alkeY • 4'Dear mei Charles, go right up stairs and rivet ; ydt Stift he sat With his bthakfade toad that Riga in the drawer.' LATE CABLE NEWS. Emperor Frederick's Diary the Sensation -- French Vewspaper Stories—Rumored • E UEronpga gehrs eiglott ofa PnreiwncerSeaallaaselinta tion to worry over, and it is worrying and enjoying the thing immensely. Every wellwegulated Englielumen has interrupted his morning coffee to read extracts of Emperor Frederick's diary, and to wonder what effect it would have on 13lernarole's place n hiethry. He has also read the great Gerinan'a violene reply published yeaterday, and is now mild- ly apprehending uncomfortably strained relatione between Germany and England. As for the flood of conjecture wIrch has been and continues to be poured out, it is simply amazing, and almost unprecedented At the same time, it is most cf it trash, and not worthy of being reviewed. Bismarck's effort now is to find who caused the publication, and there is no doubt] his hope is to trace it to the Empress Frederick. It will plobably be diffieult to succeed, for though it is extremely probable that the Empress's desire to humiliate Bismarck lies at the bcttom of the publi- cation, her agency in the matter has been no doubt: well concealed. Threats will probably induce the publishers to give the name of some solemn Garman professor from whom they got the dairy extremes, but the solemn German will probably refuse to tell from whom he got them. He will get off or go to a fortress for six months or to priton for two years, according as the law is applied, and there in all probability it will end. The French papers never lack exciting news, even if they have to manufacture it, and now they hear that the Kin., of Italy is in a dying condition. His stath'is reported to be identical with that of Alphonso XII. two months before his death, and we are told that he cannot possibly last more than a little while, The French also vow, and with bettel reason that the Garman Em- peror is very badlY off. They shake their heads about the disease which is well known to exist in his ear say that pain, which makes him wakeful, causes him to appear so early among his troops, declare thee his persistent rushing aboub, reviewing troops, no. is bringing him qnickly to his grave, and jubilate accordingiy. It is reported that the Princess Maud of Wales has gone and gct hereelf engaged to the Czarewitch, the heir to the Russian throne, and that the thing happened a few days ago, when the young people went with their respective mammas to visit the Dake and Dathess of Cumberland at Waiclmanns- ruh. But the report is very likely untrue. In the first place interesting young royalties are always being betrothed by their mieremas. They have noshing to do about en'Waging themselves, and anyhow the Czerewetch is feeble and barely in his right mind, and it is not likely Princees Maud would fall in love with him when hosts of young cfficers wish fine legs and padded chests, in all kinds of uniforms, emend their lives trying to win smiles from her. Much the Worse for Wear. Skipper Andrews, ot the "Dark Secret," who tried to sail from Boston to Queens - to wn in a dory, was picked up very much the worse tor wear, August 16th, by a Norwe- gian barque which brought him back to New York. Of his condition when rescued ' the lifai2 and Express gays :—After Captalcdhe Andrews had been taken safely aboard the Nor, he asked her people for the latitude and longitude. This they refused to give, being convinced that Captain Andrews was tooexhausted to continue his perilous voyage. Capteen Andrews told the Nor's Skipper that he had not partaken of is warm meal from the time of leaving lenten, on June 18th, nor had he had a full night's rest. He was in a fearful condition, his clothes hanging on his body, which was greatly emaciated. All his oil -skin; were played out, and he was wet to the marrow. His boots, too, were full of holes where the water had eaten into them. Taken on the deck he could not stand, and ha had th be helped Into the bee que's cabin. At Captain- Bijell'a suggestion he abandoned the voyage, and the dory was hoisted on board the Nor, where it still remains. A Sad Flatterer. Husband (tipsy; late home; wife fixing up her hair before the looking glees, her heart full of rancor; ready to give him a dreadful seedding)—" Why, dear, what are you doing ?" Wife (snappishly)--" Don'e you see what I'm doing? Fixing up my hair." H.—" Well--hic—I'm glad to see you do- ing that." W.—" And where have—" H.—" I she,y I'm glad to see you doing that. For you have the moat beautiful hair I ever W.—" Where have you—" A.—" I shay you have the most beautiful hair I ever saw. And it just matches your face. For you have the most beautiful face --hic-1 ever saw —so there." W. (smiling) —" Do you think my face. beautiful ?" EL (putting his boots under the pillow)— "You are the moat beautiful woman in the. world." • W. (lovingly)—" You darling John, you, are is sad flatterer. Let me unbutton your - collar for you." The Howling Kept him Awake. Bagley (eternly) --"Aurelia, let this thing stop right here. Mr. Da Twirliger—" Aurelia—"Oh, paw 1 do you forbid Arthur the house ?" Bagley He may come every night in the week if he pleases, but he shell not bring his dog into my parlor. Last night itt howlings kept rrie awake for an hour. Aurelia— Why, paw 1 that was Arethur singing a selection from Erminie." , A Constant Reader. Sanctum visitor—"Yours is an excellent paper, sir; I heve tead it regularly for smartie" . Editor—"I am very Old that it has won your good opinion, I trust you will alwaya like it." "Ltke IV Wby, my neht.cleor neighboe has loaned it to me for so long that Welet he to move awityled miss the paper awbelly." Natlire'e the'es a Fraud. Mies Spinster (to hisa fancier) 1 would lihe to get a canary bird, she that hi a fine gingen " BMa feneier--Yes ; nowi there is as fine a little fellow mis 1 ever saw. rtfs Spitister—FelloW ? Is it Masculine) eir " led faticiete.-Oh, yea ; the males only ,Mist Spinstet (departing in indignatipu) think b it a perfect outrage