 CHAPTER VIII. THE MYSTERY OF THE STRONG ROOM. PART I. Late in the autumn of that same year, Madame Colucci was once more back in town. There was a warrant out for the arrest of Lockhart, who had evidently fled the country, but Madame, still secure in her own invincible cunning, was at large. The firm conviction that she was even now preparing a mind for our destruction was the reverse of comforting, and Defrayer and I spent many gloomy moments as we thought over the possibilities of our future. On a certain evening towards the latter end of October I went to dine with my friend. I found him busy arranging his table, which was tastefully decorated, and laid for three. An unexpected guest is coming to dine, he said as I entered the room. I must speak to you alone before he arrives. Come into the smoking-room. He may be here at any moment. I followed Defrayer, who closed the door behind us. I must tell you everything, and quickly he began. I must also ask you to be guided by me. I have consulted with Tyler, and he says it is our best course. Well, I interrupted. The name of the man who is coming here tonight is Maurice Carlton, continued Defrayer. His mother was a Greek, but on the father's side he comes of a good old English stock. He inherited a place in Norfolk, core castle from his father, but the late owner lost heavily on the turf, and in consequence the present man has endeavored to retrieve his fortunes as a diamond merchant. I met him some years ago in Athens. He has been wonderfully successful, and is now, I believe, or at least so he says, one of the richest men in Europe. He called upon me with regard to some legal business, and in the course of conversation referred incidentally to Madame Colucci. I drew him out, and found that he knew a good deal about her, but what their actual relations are I cannot say. I was very careful not to commit myself, and after consideration asked him to dine here tonight in order that we both might see him together. I have thought over everything carefully, and am quite sure our only course now is not to mention anything we know about Madame. We may only give ourselves away in doing so. By keeping quiet we shall have a far better chance of seeing what she is up to. You agree with me, don't you? Surely we ought to acquaint Carleton with her true character? I replied. To Freyr shrugged his shoulders impatiently. No, he said. We have played that game too often, and you know what the result has been. Believe me, we shall serve both his interests and ours best by remaining quiet. Carleton is living now at his own place, but comes up to London constantly. About two years ago he married a young English lady, who was herself the widow of an Italian. I believe they have a son, but am not quite sure. He seems an uncommonly nice fellow himself, and I should say his wife was fortunate in her husband. But there I hear his ring. Let us go into the next room. We did so, and the next moment Carleton appeared. To Freyr introduced him to me, and soon afterwards we went into the dining-room. Carleton was a handsome man, built on a somewhat massive scale. His face was of the Greek type, but his physique that of an Englishman. He had dark eyes, somewhat long and narrow, and apt, except when aroused, to wear a sleepy expression. It needed but a glance to show that in his blood was a mixture of the fiery east with the nonchalance and suppression of all feeling which characterised John Bull. As I watched him, without appearing to do so, I came to the conclusion that I had seldom seen more perfect self-possession or stronger indications of suppressed power. As the meal proceeded, conversation grew brisk and brilliant. Carleton talked well, and led on by Joe Freyr gave a short resume of his life since they had last met. Yes, he said, I am uncommonly lucky and have done very well on the whole. Time in dealing, as perhaps you know, is one of the most risky things that any man can take up. But my early training gave me a sound knowledge of the business, and I think I know what I am about. There is no trade to which the art of swindling has been more applied than to mine, but there I have had luck, immense luck, such as does not come to more than one man in a hundred. I suppose you have had some pretty exciting moments, I remarked. No, curiously enough, he replied, I have personally never had any exciting times. Big deals, of course, are often anxious moments, but beyond the natural anxiety to carry a large thing through, my career has been fairly simple. Some of my acquaintances, however, have not been so lucky, and one in particular is just going through a rare experience. Indeed, I answered, are you at liberty to tell us what it is? He glanced from one of us to the other. I think so, he said. Perhaps you have already heard of the great Rocheville diamond? No, I remarked. Tell us about it, if you will. Dinner being over, he lent back in his chair, and helped himself to a cigar. It is curious how few people know about this diamond, he said. Although it is one of the most beautiful stones in the world, for actual weight, of course, many of the well-known stones can beat it. It weighs exactly eighty-two carats, and is an egg-shaped stone with a big indented hollow at the smaller end. But for the lustre and brilliance I have never seen its equal. It has had a curious history. For centuries it was in the possession of an Indian Maharaja. It was bought from him by an American millionaire, and passed through my hands some ten years ago. I would have given anything to have kept it. But my finances were not so prosperous as they are now, and I had to let it go. A Russian baron bought it, and took it to Naples, where it was stolen. This diamond was lost to the world till a couple of months ago, when it turned up in this country. When Carlton mentioned Naples, the happy hunting ground of the Brotherhood, De Freyre glanced at me. But there is a fatality about its ownership, he continued. It has again disappeared. How, I cried. I wish I could tell you, he answered. The circumstances of its loss are as follows. A month ago my wife and I were staying with an old friend, a relation of my mother's, a merchant named Michael Rodin, of Rodin Freyre Cornhill, the great dealers. Rodin said he had a surprise for me, and he showed me the Rocheville Diamond. He told me that he had bought it from a singleese dealer in London and for a comparatively small price. What is its actual value? Interrupted De Freyre. Roughly I should think about fifteen thousand pounds, but I believe Rodin secured it for ten. Well, poor chap, he has now lost both the stone and his money. My firm belief is that what he bought was an imitation, though how a man of his experience could have done such a thing, is past knowledge. This is exactly what happened. Mrs. Carlton and I, as I have said, were staying down at his place in Staffordshire, and he had the diamond with him. At my wife's request, for she possesses a most intelligent interest in precious stones, he took us down to his strong room and showed it to us. He meant to have it set for his own wife, who is a very beautiful woman. The next morning he took the diamond up to town, and Mrs. Carlton and I returned to Corkastle. I got a wire from Rodin that same afternoon, begging me to come up at once. I found him in a state of despair. He showed me the stone, to all appearance identical, the same as the one we had looked at on the previous evening, and declared that it had been just proved to be an imitation. He said it was the most skillful imitation he had ever seen. We put it to every known test, and there was no doubt whatever that it was not a diamond. This specific gravity test was final on this point. The problem now is, did he buy the real diamond, which has since been stolen, or an imitation? He swears that the rushful diamond was in his hands, that he tested it carefully at the time. He also says that since it came into his possession it was absolutely impossible for anyone to steal it, and yet that the theft has been committed there is very little doubt. At least one thing is clear. The stone which he now possesses is not a diamond at all. "'Has anything been discovered since?' I asked. "'Nothing,' replied Carlton, rising as he spoke, "'and never will be, I expect. Of one thing there is little doubt. The shape and peculiar appearance of the rushful diamond are a matter of history to all diamond dealers, and the maker of the imitation must have had the stone in his possession for some considerable time. The fact similarly is absolutely and incredibly perfect.' "'Is it possible,' said De Freyre, suddenly, that the strongroom in Rodin's house could have been tampered with? "'You would scarcely say so if you knew the peculiar make of that special strongroom,' replied Carlton. "'I think I can trust you and your friend with a somewhat important secret. Two strongrooms have been built, one for me at Cour Castle, and one for my friend Rodin at his place in Staffordshire. These rooms are constructed on such a peculiar plan that the moment any key is inserted in the lock electric bells are set ringing within. These bells are connected in each case with the bedroom of the respective owners. Thus you will see for yourselves that no one could tamper with the lock without immediately giving such an alarm as would make any theft impossible. My friend Rodin and I invented these special safes, and got them carried out on plans of our own. We both believe that our most valuable stones are safer in our own houses than in our places of business in town. But stay, gentlemen, you shall see for yourselves. Why should you not both come down to my place for a few days' shooting? I shall then have the greatest possible pleasure in showing you my strongroom. You may be interested too in seeing some of my collection. I flatter myself, a unique one. The weather is perfect just now for shooting, and I have plenty of pheasants, also room enough and to spare. We are a big, cheerful party, and the lioness of the season is with us, Madame Colucci. As he said the last words, both Dufreser and I could not refrain from starting. Luckily it was not noticed. My heart beat fast. It is very kind of you, I said, I shall be charmed to come. Dufreser glanced at me, caught my eye, and said quietly, Yes, I think I can get away. I will come with pleasure. That is right. I will expect you both next Monday, and will send to Drew Brook station to meet you by any train you like to name. We promise to let him know at what time we should be likely to arrive, and soon afterwards he left us. When he did so, we drew our chairs near the fire. Well, we are in for it now, said Dufreser, face to face at last. What a novel experience it will be. Who would believe that we were living in the dreary nineteenth century? But, of course, she may not stay when she hears we are coming. I expect she will, I said. She has no fear. Hello. Who can this be now? I added, as the electric bell of the front door suddenly rang. Perhaps it is Carlton back again, said Dufreser. I am not expecting any one. The next moment the door was opened, and our principal agent, Mr. Tyler himself, walked in. Good evening, gentlemen. He said, I must apologize for this intrusion. But important news has just reached me, and the very last you would expect to hear. He chuggled as he spoke. Madame Colucci's house in Wellbeck Street was broken into a month ago. I am told that the place was regularly sacked. She was away in her yacht at the time after the attempt on your life, Mr. Head, and it is supposed that the place was unguarded. Whatever the reason, she has never reported the burglary, and Ford at Scotland Yard has only just got wind of it. He suspects that it was done by the same gang that broke into the jewelers in Piccadilly some months ago. It is a very curious case. Do you think it is one of her own gang that has rounded on her, I asked? Hardly. He replied, I do not believe any of them would dare to. No, it is an outside job, but Ford is watching the matter for the official force. Mr. DeFrayer and I happened to know where Madame Colucci is at the present moment, I said. I then gave Tyler a brief resume of our interview with Carlton, and told him that it was our intention to meet Madame face-to-face early in the following week. What a splendid piece of luck! he cried, rubbing his hands with ill-suppressed excitement. With your acumen, Mr. Head, you will be certain to find out something, and we shall have her at last. I only wish the chance were mine. Well, have yourself in readiness, said DeFrayer. We may have to telegraph to you at a moment's notice. Be sure we shall not leave a stone unturned to get Madame to commit herself. For my part, he added, although it seems scarcely credible, I strongly suspect that she is at the bottom of the diamond mystery. It was late in the afternoon on the following Monday and almost dark when we arrived at Cork Castle. Carlton himself met us at the nearest railway station, and drove us to the house, which was a fine old pile, with a castellated roof and a large Elizabethan wing. The place had been extensively altered and restored, and was replete with every modern comfort. Carlton led us straight into the center hall, calling out in a cheerful tone to his wife as he did so. A slender, very fair and girlish-looking figure approached. She held out her hand, gave us each a hearty greeting, and invited us to come into the center of a circle of young people who were gathered round a huge, old-fashioned hearth, on which logs of wood blazed and crackled cheerily. Mrs. Carlton introduced us to one or two of the principal guests, and then resumed her place at a table on which a silver tea-service was placed. It needed but a brief glance to show us that amongst the party was Madame Colucci. She was standing near her hostess, and just as my eye caught hers, she bent and said a word in her ear. Mrs. Carlton colored almost painfully, looked from her to me, and then once more rising from her seat came forward one or two steps. Mr. Head, she said, may I introduce you to my great friend, the Madame Colucci? By the way, she tells me that you are old acquaintances. Very old acquaintances, am I not right? said Madame Colucci, in her clear, perfectly well-bred voice. She bowed to me, and then held out her hand. I ignored the proffered hand and bowed coldly. She smiled in return. Come and sit near me, Mr. Head, she said. It is a pleasure to meet you again. You have treated me very badly of late. You have never come once to see me. Did you expect me to come? I replied quietly. There was something in my tone which caused the blood to mount to her face. She raised her eyes, gave me a bold, full glance of open defiance, and then said in a soft voice, which scarcely rose above a whisper, No, you are too English. Then she turned to our hostess, who was seated not a yard away. You forget your duties, Leonora. Mr. Head is waiting for his tea. Oh! I beg a thousand pardons, said Mrs. Carlton. I did not know I had forgotten you, Mr. Head. She gave me a cup at once, but as she did so, her hand shook so much that the small, gold-mounted and jeweled spoon rattled in the saucer. You are tired, Nora, said Madame Colucci. May I not relieve you of your duties? No, no. I am all right, was the reply uttered almost petishly. Do not take any notice just now. I beg of you. Madame turned to me. Come and talk to me, she said, in the imperious tone of a sovereign addressing a subject. She walked to the nearest window, and I followed her. Yes, she said at once, you are too English to play your part well. Can you not recognize the common courtesies of warfare? Are you not sensible to the gallant attentions of the duelist? You are too crude. If our great interests clash, there is every reason why we should be doubly polite when we do meet. You are right, Madame, in speaking of us as duelists, I whispered back, but the duel is not over yet. No, it is not, she answered. I have the pertinacity of my countrymen, I continued. It is hard to rouse us, but when we are roused it is a fight to grim death. She said nothing further. At that moment a young man of the party approached. She called out to him in a playful tone to approach her side, and I withdrew. At dinner that night Madame's brilliancy came into full play. There was no subject on which she could not talk. She was at once fantastic, irresponsible, and witty. Without the slightest difficulty she led the conversation, turning it into any channel she chose. Our host hung upon her words as if fascinated. Indeed, I do not think there was a man of the party who had eyes or ears for anyone else. I had gone down to dinner with Mrs. Carlton, and in the intervals of watching Madame Colucci I could not help observing her. She belonged to the fair-haired and Saxon type, and when very young must have been extremely pretty. She was pretty still, but not to the close observer. Her face was too thin and too anxious. The color in her cheeks was almost fixed. Her hair, too, showed signs of receding from the temples, although the fashionable arrangement of the present day prevented this being specially noticed. While she talked to me I could not help observing that her attention wandered, that her eyes on more than one occasion met those of Madame, and that when this encounter took place the younger woman trembled quite perceptively. It was easy to draw my own conclusions. The usual thing had happened. Madame was not spending her time at Cork Castle for nothing. Our hostess was in her power. Carlton himself evidently knew nothing of this. With such an alliance Mischief of the usual intangible nature was brewing. Could Defrayer and I stop it? Beyond doubt there was more going on than met the eye. As these thoughts flashed through my brain I held myself in readiness. Every nerve tense and taught. To play my part as an Englishman should I must have above all things self-possession. So I threw myself into the conversation. I answered Madame back in her own coin and presently in an argument which she conducted with rare brilliance we had the conversation to ourselves. But all the time as I talked and argued and differed from the brilliant Italian my glance was on Mrs. Carlton. I noticed that a growing restlessness had seized her, that she was listening to us with feverish and intense eagerness, and that her eyes began to wear a hunted expression. She ceased to play her part as hostess, and looked from me to Madame Colucci as one under a spell. Just before we retired for the night Mrs. Carlton came up and took a seat near me in the drawing room. Madame was not in the room, having gone with Defrayer, Carlton, and several other members of the party to the billiard room. Mrs. Carlton looked eagerly and nervously round her. Her manner was decidedly embarrassed. She made one or two short remarks, ending them abruptly, as if she wished to say something else but did not dare. I resolved to help her. Have you known Madame Colucci long? I asked. For a short time, a year or two, she replied. Have you, Mr. Head? For more than ten years, I answered. I stooped a little lower and let my voice drop in her ear. Madame Colucci is my greatest enemy, I said. Oh, good heavens! she cried. She half started to her feet, then controlled herself, and sat down again. She is also my greatest enemy. She is my direst foe. She is a devil, not a woman, said the poor woman, bringing out her words with the most tense and passionate force. Oh, may I, may I speak to you, and alone? If your confidence relates to Madame Colucci, I shall be only too glad to hear what you have to say, I replied. They are coming back, I hear them, she said. I will find an opportunity to-morrow. She must not know that I am taking you into my confidence. She left me to talk eagerly with flushed cheeks, and eyes bright with ill-suppressed terror to a merry girl who had just come in from the billiard room. The party soon afterwards broke up for the night, and I had no opportunity of saying a word to Defraer, who slept in a wing at the other end of the house. The next morning after breakfast, Carlton took Defraer and myself down to see his strong room. The ingenuity and cleverness of the arrangement by which the electric bells were sounded, the moment the key was put into the lock, struck me with amazement. The safe was of the strongest pattern, the levers and bolts, as well as the arrangement of the lock, making it practically impregnable. Rodin's safe resembles mine in every particular, said Carlton, as he turned the key in the lock and readjusted the different bolts in their respective places. You can see for yourselves that no one could rob such a place without detection. It would certainly be black magic if he did, was my response. We have arranged for a shooting party this morning, continued Carlton. Let us forget diamonds and their attendant anxieties, and enjoy ourselves out of doors. The birds are plentiful, and I trust we shall have a good time. He took us upstairs, and we started a few moments later on our expedition. It was arranged that the lady should meet us for lunch at one of the Keeper's cottages. We spent a thoroughly pleasant morning, the sport was good, and I had seldom enjoyed myself better. The thought of Madame Colucci, however, intruded itself upon my memory from time to time. What, too, was the matter with Mrs. Carlton? It needed but to glance at Carlton to see that he was not in her secret, in the open air and acting the part of host, which he did to perfection. I had seldom seen a more genial fellow. When we sat down to lunch I could not help owning to a sense of relief, when I perceived that Madame Colucci had not joined us. Mrs. Carlton was waiting for us in the Keeper's Cottage, and several other ladies were with her. She came up to my side immediately. May I walk with you after lunch, Mr. Head? She said. I have often gone out with the guns before now, and I don't believe you will find me in the way. I shall be delighted to have your company, I replied. Madame is ill, continued Mrs. Carlton, dropping her voice a trifle. She had a severe headache, and was obliged to go to her room. This is my opportunity, she added, and I mean to seize it. I noticed that she played with her food, and soon announcing that I had had quite enough, I rose. Mrs. Carlton and I did not wait for the rest of the party, but walked quickly away together. Soon the shooting was resumed, and we could hear the sound of the beaters, and also an occasional shot fired ahead of us. At first my companion was silent. She walked quickly and seemed anxious to detach herself altogether from the shooting party. Her agitation was very marked, but I saw that she was afraid to come to the point. Again I resolved to help her. You are in trouble, I said, and Madame Colucci has caused it. Now tell me everything. Be assured that if I can help you, I will. Be also assured of my sympathy. I know, Madame Colucci, before now I have been unable to get her victims out of her clutches. Have you, indeed, she answered. She looked at me with a momentary sparkle of hope in her eyes. Then it died out. But in my case that is impossible, she continued. Still I will confide in you. I will tell you everything. To know that someone else shares my terrible secret will be an untold relief. She paused for a moment, then continued, speaking quickly. I am in the most awful trouble. Life has become almost unbearable to me. My trouble is of such a nature that my husband is the very last person in the world to whom I can confide it. I waited in silence. You doubtless wonder at my last words, she continued. But you will see what I mean when I tell you the truth. Of course you will regard what I say as an absolute secret. I will not reveal a word you are going to tell me, without your permission, I answered. Thank you. That is all that I need. This is my early history. You must know it in order to understand what follows. When I was very young, not more than seventeen, I was married to an Italian of the name of Count Porcelli. My people were poor, and he was supposed to be rich. He was considered a good match. He was a handsome man, but many years my senior. Almost immediately after the marriage my mother died, and I had no near relations or friends in England. The Count took me to Naples, and I was not long there before I made some terrible discoveries. My husband was a leading member of a political secret society, whose name I never heard. I need not enter into particulars of that awful time. Suffice it to say that he subjected me to almost every cruelty. In the autumn of 1893, while we were in Rome, Count Porcelli was stabbed one night in the forum. He had parted from me in a fury at some trifling act of disobedience to his intolerable wishes, and I never saw him again, either alive or dead. His death was an immense relief to me. I returned home, and two years afterwards, in 1895, I married Mr. Carleton, and everything was bright and happy. A year after the marriage we had a little son. I have not shown you, my boy, for he is away from home at present. He is the heir to my husband's extensive estates, and is a beautiful child. My husband was, and is, devotedly attached to me. Indeed, he is the soul of honor, chivalry, and kindness. I began to forget those fearful days in Naples and Rome. But, Mr. Head, a year ago everything changed. I went to see that fiend in human guise, Madam Colucci. You know she poses as a doctor. It was the fashion to consult her. I was suffering from a trifling malady, and my husband begged me to go to her. I went, and we quickly discovered that we both possessed ties, awful ties, to the distant past. Madam Colucci knew my first husband, Count Porcelli, well. She told me that he was alive and in England, and that my marriage to Mr. Carlton was void. You may imagine my agony. If this were indeed true, what was to become of my child, and what would Mr. Carlton's feelings be? The shock was so tremendous that I became ill, and was almost delirious for a week. During that time Madam herself insisted on nursing me. She was outwardly kind, and told me that my sorrow was hers, and that she certainly would not betray me. But she said that Count Porcelli had heard of my marriage, and would not keep my secret if I did not make it worth his while. From that moment the most awful blackmailing began. From time to time I had to part with large sums of money. Mr. Carlton is so rich and generous that he would give me anything without question. This state of things has gone on for a year. I have kept the awful danger at bay at the point of a sword. But how can you tell that Count Porcelli is alive? I asked. Remember that there are a few more unscrupulous people than Madam Kaluci. How do you know that this may not be a fabrication on her part in order to bring money from you? I have not seen Count Porcelli, replied my companion. But all the same the proof is incontestable, for Madam has brought me letters from him. He promises to leave me in peace if I will provide him with money, but at the same time he assures me that he will declare himself at any moment if I fail to listen to his demands. Nevertheless, my impression is, I replied, that Count Porcelli is not in existence, and that Madam is playing a risky game. But you have more to tell? I have. You have by no means heard the worst yet. My present difficulty is one to scare the stoutest heart. A month ago Madam came to our house in town, and sitting down opposite to me made a most terrible proposal. She took a jewel case from her pocket, and, touching a spring, revealed within the largest diamond that I had ever seen. She laid it in my hand. It was egg-shaped, and had an indentation at one end. While I was gazing at it and admiring it, she suddenly told me that it was only an imitation. I stared at her in amazement. Now listen attentively, she said. All your future depends on whether you have brains, wit, and tact for a great emergency. The stone you hold in your hands is an imitation, a perfect one. I had it made from my knowledge of the original. It would take the greatest expert in the diamond market who did not apply test to it. The real stone is at the house of Monsieur Rodin. You and your husband, I happen to know, are going to stay at the Rodin's place in the country tomorrow. The real stone, the great Rocheville Diamond, was stolen from my house in Wellbeck Street six weeks ago. It was purchased by Monsieur Rodin from a single ease employed by the gang who stole it, at a very large figure, but also at only a third of its real value. For reasons which I need not explain, I was unable to expose the burglary, and in consequence it was easy to get rid of the stone for a large sum. But those who think that I will tamely submit to such a gigantic loss little know me. I am determined that the stone shall once more come into my possession, either by fair means or foul. Now you are the only person who can help me, for you will be unsuspected and can work where I should not have a chance. It is to be your test to substitute the imitation for the real stone. How can I, I asked. Easily, if you will follow my guidance. When you are at the Rodin's, you must lead the conversation to the subject of diamonds, or rather, you must get your husband to do so, for he would be even less suspected than you. He will ask Monsieur Rodin to show you both his strong room, where his valuable jewels are kept. You must make an excuse to be in the room a moment by yourself. You must substitute the real for the unreal, as deftly as if you were possessed of leisure demand. Take your opportunity to do this as best you can. All I ask of you is to succeed, otherwise. Her eyes blazed into mine. They were brighter than diamonds themselves. Otherwise, I repeated faintly, Count Porcelli is close at hand. He shall claim his wife. Think of Mr. Carlton's feelings. Think of your son's doom. She paused, raising her brows with a gesture peculiar to her own. I need not say anything further, she added. Well, Mr. Head, I struggled against her awful proposal. At first I refused to have anything to do with it, but she piled on the agony, showing me only too plainly what my position would be, did I not accede to her wishes. She traded on my weakness, on my passionate love for the child and for his father. Yes, in the end I yielded to her. The next day we went to the Rodin's. The spare rendered me cunning. I introduced the subject of the jewels to my husband, and begged of him to ask Monsieur Rodin to show us his safe and its contents. Monsieur Rodin was only too good to do so. It is one of his fads, and that fad is also shared by my husband, to keep his most valuable stones in a safe, peculiarly constructed in the vaults of his own house. My husband has a similar strong room. We went into the vaults, and Monsieur Rodin allowed me to take the roachful diamond in my hand for a moment. When I had it in my possession I stepped backward, made a clumsy movement by intention, knocked against a chair, slipped, and the diamond fell from my fingers. I saw it flash and roll away. Quicker almost then thought I put my foot on it, and before anyone could detect me had substituted the imitation for the real. The real stone was in my pocket, and the imitation in Monsieur Rodin's case without anyone being in the least the wiser. With the great roachful diamond feeling heavier than lead in my pocket I went away the next morning with my husband. I had valuable jewels of my own, and have a jewel case of unique pattern. It is kept in the strong room at the castle. I obtained the key of the strong room from my husband, went down to the vaults, and under the pretense of putting some diamonds and sapphires away locked up the roachful diamond in my own private jewel case. It is impossible to steal it from there, owing to the peculiar construction of the lock of the case, which starts electric bells ringing the moment the key is put inside. Now listen, Mr. Head. Madam knows all about the strong room, for she has wormed its secrets from me. She knows that with all her cleverness she cannot pick that lock. She has therefore told me that unless I give her the roachful diamond to-night she will expose me. She declares that no entreaties will turn her from her purpose. She is like adamant. She has no heart at all. Her sweetness and graciousness, her pretended sympathy, are all on the surface. It is useless appealing to anything in her but her avarice. Fear? She does not know the meaning of the word. Oh, what am I to do? I will not let her have the diamond, but how mad I was ever to yield to her. I gazed at my companion for a few moments without speaking. The full meaning of her extraordinary story was at last made abundantly plain. The theft which so completely puzzled Mr. Rodin was explained at last. What Carlton's feelings would be when he knew the truth it was impossible to realize, but know the truth he must and as soon as possible. I was more than ever certain that Count Porcelli's death was a reality and that Madam was blackmailing the unfortunate young wife for her own purposes. But although I believe that such was assuredly the case, and that Mrs. Carlton had no real cause to dread dishonor to herself and her child, I had no means of proving my unbelief. The moment had come to act and to act promptly. Mrs. Carlton was overcome by the most terrible nervous fear and had already got herself into the gravest danger by her theft of the diamond. She looked at me intently and at last said, in a whisper, Whatever you think of me, speak. I know you believe that I am one of the most guilty wretches in existence, but you can scarcely realize what my temptation has been. I sympathize with you, of course, I said then. But there is only one thing to be done. Now, may I speak quite plainly? I believe that Count Porcelli is dead. Madam is quite clever enough to forge letters which you would believe to be bona fide. Remember that I know this woman well. She possesses consummate genius and never yet owned to a scruple of any sort. It is only too plain that she reaps an enormous advantage by playing on your fears. You can never put things right, therefore, until you confide in your husband. Remember how enormous the danger is to him. He will not leave a stone unturned to come face to face with the Count. Madam will have to show her hand, and you will be saved. Will you take my advice? Will you go to him immediately? I dare not! Very well. You have another thing to consider. Mishur Radhan is determined to recover the stolen diamond. The cleverest members of the detective force are working day and night in his behalf. They are quite clever enough to trace the theft to you. You will be forced to open your jewel case in their presence. Just think of your feelings. Yes, Mrs. Carlton, believe me, I am right. Your husband must know all. The diamond must be returned to its rightful owner immediately. She wrung her hands in agony. I cannot tell my husband, she replied. I will find out some other means of getting rid of the diamond. Even Madam had better have it than this. Think of the wreck of my complete life. Think of the dishonor to my child. Mr. Head, I know you are kind, and I know your advice is really wise, but I cannot act on it. Madam has facefully sworn to me that when she gets the Rochelle diamond she will leave the country forever and that I shall never hear of her again. Count Porcelli will accompany her. Do you believe this? I asked. In this special case I am inclined to believe her. I know that Madam has grown very anxious of late, and I am sure she feels that she is an extreme danger. She has dropped hints to that effect. She must have been sure that her position was a most unstable one when she refused to communicate the burglary in Wellbeck Street to the police. But, Hark, I hear footsteps. Who is coming? Mrs. Carlton bent forward and peered through the brushwood. I possessed the most deadly fear of that woman, she continued. Even now she may be watching us. That headache may have been all a presence. God knows what will become of me if she discovers that I have confided in you. Don't let it seem that we have been talking about anything special. Go on with your shooting. We are getting too far away from the others. She had scarcely said the words before I saw it in the distance. Madam Colucci approaching. She was walking slowly with that graceful motion which invariably characterized her steps. Her eyes were fixed on the ground. Her face looked thoughtful. What are we to do? said Mrs. Carlton. You have nothing to do at the present moment, I replied, but to keep up your courage. As to what you are to do in the immediate future, I must see you again. What you have told me requires immediate action. I swear I will save you and get you out of this scrape at any cost. Oh, how good you are! she answered. But to go on with your shooting, Madam can read any one through and my face bears signs of agitation. Just at that moment a great cock pheasant came beating through the boughs overhead. I glanced at Mrs. Carlton, noticed her extreme pallor, and then almost recklessly raised my gun and fired. This was the first time I had used the gun since luncheon. What was the matter? I had an instant, just one brief instant, to realize that there was something wrong. Then there was a deafening roar, a flash as if a thousand sparks came before my eyes. I reeled and fell, and a great darkness closed over me. CHAPTER VIII. THE MYSTERY OF THE STRONGROOM, PART II. Out of an oblivion that might have been eternity, a dawning sense of consciousness came to me. I opened my eyes. The face of Defrayer was bending over me. Hush! he said. Keep quiet, head. Doctor! he added. He has come to himself at last. A young man with a bright intelligent face approached my side. Ah! you feeling better? he said. That is right, but you must keep quiet. Drink this. He raised a glass to my lips. I drank thirstily. I noticed now that my left hand and arm were in a splint, bandaged to my side. What can have happened? I exclaimed. I had scarcely uttered the words before memory came back to me in a flash. You have had a bad accident, said Defrayer. Your gun burst. Burst! I cried. Impossible! It is only too true. You have had a marvelous escape of your life, and your left hand and arm are injured. Defrayer, I said at once, and eagerly, I must see you alone. Will you ask the doctor to leave us? I will be within call, Mr. Defrayer, said the medical man. He went into the enter-room. I was feverish, and I knew it, but my one effort was to keep full consciousness until I had spoken to Defrayer. I must get up at once, I cried. I feel all right, only a little queer about the head, but that is nothing. Is my hand much damaged? No. Luckily it is only a flesh wound, replied Defrayer. But how could the gun have burst? I continued. It was one of Riley's make, and worth seventy guineas. I had scarcely said the last words before a hideous thought flashed across me. Defrayer spoke instantly, answering my surmise. I have examined your gun carefully, at least what is left of it, he said, and there is not the slightest doubt that the explosion was not caused by an ordinary cartridge. The stock and barrels are blown to fragments. The marvel is that you were not killed on the spot. It is easy to guess who has done the mischief, I replied. At least one fact is abundantly clear, said Defrayer. Your gun was tampered with. Probably during the luncheon interval, I have been making inquiries and believe that one of the beaders knows something, only I have not got him yet to confess. I have also made a close examination of the ground where you stood, and have picked up a small piece of the brasswork of a cartridge. Matters are so grave that I have wired to Tyler and Ford, and they will both be here in the morning. My impression is that we shall soon have got sufficient evidence to arrest Madame. It goes without saying that this is her work. This is the second time she has tried to get rid of you, and happened what may, the thing must be stopped. But I must not worry you any further at present, for the shock you have sustained has been fearful. Am I badly hurt? I asked. Fortunately, you are only cut a little about the face, and your eyes have altogether escaped. Dynamite always expands its force downwards. It is lucky my eyes escaped, I answered. Now, Defrayer, I have just received some important information from Mrs. Carlton. It was told to me under a seal of the deepest secrecy, and even now I must not tell you what she has confided to me without her permission. Would it be possible to get her to come to see me for a moment? I am sure she will come, and gladly. She seems to be in a terrible state of nervous prostration. You know she was on the scene when the accident happened. When I appeared, I found her in a half-fainting condition, supported, of course, by Madame Colucci, whom she seemed to shrink from in the most unmistakable manner. Yes, I will send her to you, but I do not think the doctor will allow you to talk long. Never mind about the doctor or anyone else, I replied. Let me see, Mrs. Carlton, there is not an instant to lose. Defrayer saw by my manner that I was frightfully excited. He left the room at once, and in a few moments Mrs. Carlton came in. Even in the midst of my own pain I could not but remark with consternation the look of agony on her face. She was trembling so excessively that she could scarcely stand. Will you do something for me? I said in a whisper. I was getting rapidly weaker, and even my powers of speech were failing me. Anything in my power, she said, except— But I want no exceptions, I said. I have nearly lost my life. I am speaking to you now, almost with the solemnity of a dying man. I want you to go straight to your husband and tell him all. No, no, no! she turned away. Her face was whiter than the white dress which she was wearing. Then, if you will not confide in him, tell all that you have just told me to my friend Defrayer. He is a lawyer, well accustomed to hearing stories of distress and horror. He will advise you. Will you at least do that? I cannot. Her voice was hoarse with emotion, then she said in a whisper. I am more terrified than ever, for I cannot find the key of my jewel case. This makes matters still graver, although I believe that even Madame Colucci cannot tamper with the strong room. You will tell your husband or Defrayer. Promise me that, and I shall rest happy. I cannot, Mr. Head, and you, on your part, have promised not to reveal my secret. You put me in a most cruel dilemma, I replied. Just then the doctor came into the room, accompanied by Carlton. Come, come, said the medical man. Mr. Head, you are exciting yourself. I am afraid. Mrs. Carlton, I must ask you to leave my patient. Absolute quiet is essential. Fortunately, the injuries to the face are trivial. But the shock to the system has been considerable, and fever may set in unless quiet is enforced. Come, Nora, said her husband. You ought to rest yourself, my dear, for you look very bad. As they were leaving the room I motioned to Defrayer to my side. Go to Mrs. Carlton, I said. She has something to say of the utmost importance. Tell her that you know she possesses a secret, that I have not told you what it is, but that I have implored her to take you into her confidence. I will do so, he replied. Late that evening he came back to me. Well, I cried eagerly. Mrs. Carlton is too ill to be pressed any further. Head, she has been obliged to go to her room, and the doctor has been with her. He prescribed a soothing draft. Her husband is very much puzzled at her condition. You look anything but fit yourself, old man, he continued. You must go to sleep now. Whatever part madam has played in this tragedy. She is keeping up appearances with her usual aplomb. There was not a more brilliant member of the dinner party to-night than she. She has been inquiring with apparent sympathy for you, and offered to come and see you if that would mend matters. Of course, I told her that the doctor would not allow any visitors. Now you must take your sleeping draft, and trust for the best. I am following up the clue of the gun, and believe that it only requires a little persuasion to get some really important evidence from one of the beaters, but more of this to-morrow. You must sleep, now, head. You must sleep. The shock I had undergone, and the intense pain in my arm which began about this time to come on, told even upon my strong frame. Defrayer poured out a sleeping draft which the doctor had sent round. I drank it off, and soon afterwards he left me. An hour or two passed. At the end of that time the draft began to take effect. Drowsiness stole over me. The pain grew less, and I fell into an uneasy sleep, broken with hideous and grotesque dreams. From one of these I awoke with a start, struck a match, and looked at my watch. It was half past three. The house, of course, had long ago retired to rest, and everything was intensely still. I could hear in the distance the monotonous ticking of the great clock in the hall, but no other sound reached my ears. My feverish brain, however, was actively working. The phantasmagoria of my dream seemed to take life and shape. Fantastic forms seemed to hover round my bed, and faces sinister with evil appear to me. Each one bore a likeness to Madame Colucci. I became more and more feverish, and now a deadly fear that even at this moment something awful was happening began to assail me. It rose to a conviction. Madame, with her almost superhuman knowledge, must guess that she was in danger. Surely she would not allow the night to go by without acting. Surely, while we were supposed to sleep, she would steal the roceful diamond and escape. The horror of this thought was so overpowering that I could stay still no longer. I flung off the bed clothes and sprang from the bed. A delirious excitement was consuming me. Putting on my dressing-gown I crept out onto the landing. Then I silently went down the great staircase, crossed the hall, and turning to the left went down another passage to the door of the stone stairs leading to the vault in which was Carlton's strong room. I had no sooner reached this door than my terrors and nervous fears became certainties. A gleam of light broke the darkness. I drew back into a recess in the stonework. Yes, I was right. My terrors and convictions of coming peril had not visited me without cause. For standing before the iron door of the strong room was Madame Colucci herself. There was a lighted taper in her hand. My bare feet had made no noise and she was unaware of my presence. What was she doing? I waited in silence. My temples were hot and throbbing with overmastering horror. I listened for the bells which would give the alarm directly she inserted the key in the iron door. She was doing something to the safe. I could tell this by the noise she was making. Still no bells rang. The next instant the heavy door slipped back on its hinges and Madame entered. The moment I saw this I could remain quiet no longer. I sprang forward, striking my wounded arm against something in the darkness. She turned and saw me. I made a frantic effort to seize her. Then my brain swam and every atom of strength left me. I found myself falling upon something hard. I had entered the strong room. For a moment I lay on the floor half stunned then I sprang to my feet but I was too late. The iron door closed upon me with a muffled clang. Madame had by some miraculous means opened the safe without a key, had taken the diamond for Mrs. Carlton's jewel case which stood open on a shelf and had locked me a prisoner within. Half delirious and stunned I had fallen an easy victim. I shouted loudly but the closeness of my prison muffled and stifled my voice. How long I remained in captivity I cannot tell. The pain in my arm much increased by my sudden fall on the hard floor rendered me, I believe, partly delirious. I was feeling faint and chill to the bone when the door of the strong room at last was opened and Carlton and Defrayer entered. I noticed immediately that there was daylight outside. The night was over. We have been looking for you everywhere, said Defrayer. What in the name of fortune has happened? How did you get in here? In pursuit of Madame, I replied, but where is she? For heaven's sake tell me quickly. Boltered, of course, said Defrayer in a gloomy voice, but tell us what this means, head. You shall hear what we have to say afterwards. I told my story in a few words. But how, in the name of all that's wonderful, did she manage to open the safe without a key? cried Carlton. This is black art with a vengeance. You must have left the strong room open, I said. That I will swear I did not, he replied. I locked the safe as usual. After showing it to you and to Defrayer yesterday, here is the key. Let me see it, I said. He handed it to me. I took it over to the light. Look here, I cried, with sudden excitement. This cannot be your original key. It must have been changed. You think you locked the safe with this key. Carlton, you have been tricked by that archfiend. Did you ever before see a key like this? I held the wards between my finger and thumb and turned the barrel from left to right. The barrel revolved in the wards in a ratchet concealed in the shoulder. You could unlock the safe with this key, but not lock it again, I exclaimed. See here. I inserted the key in the keyhole as I spoke. It instantly started the bell's ringing. The barrel turns, but the wards which are buried in the keyhole do not turn with it, and the resistance of the ratchet gives exactly the impression as if you were locking the safe. Thus, yesterday morning you thought you locked the safe with this key, but in reality you left it open. No one but that woman could have conceived such a scheme. In some way she must have substituted this for your key. Well, come to your room now, head, cried Defrayer, or madam will have achieved the darling wish of her heart, and your life will be the forfeit. I accompanied Carlton upstairs, dressed, and those still feeling terribly ill and shaken, presently joined the rest of the household in one of the sitting-rooms. The utmost excitement was apparent on every face. Mrs. Carlton was standing near an open window. There were traces of tears on her cheeks, and yet her eyes, to my astonishment, betokened both joy and relief. She beckoned me to her side. Come out with me for a moment, Mr. Head. When we got out into the open air she turned to me. Dreadful as the loss of the diamond is, she exclaimed, there are few happier women in England than I am at the present moment. My maid brought me a letter from Madam Clucci this morning, which has assuaged my worst fears. In it she owns that Count Porcelli has been long in his grave, and that she only blackmailed me in order to secure large sums of money. I was just about to reply to Mrs. Carlton when Defrayer hurried up. The detectives have arrived, and we want you at once, he exclaimed. I accompanied him into Carlton's study. Tyler and Ford were both present. They had just been examining the strongroom and had seen the false key. Their excitement was unbounded. She has bolted, but we will have her now," cried Ford. We have got the evidence we want at last. It is true she has the start of us by three or four hours, but at last, yes, at last, we can lose the hounds in full pursuit. The aspect of matters had now completely changed. Madam Clucci had at last put herself under the power of the law, and her arrest at the worst was only a question of days. She had, it is true, a good start of her enemy, but an early wire to Scotland Yarg would limit her movements by every conceivable device. Each railway terminus in England would be watched, as well as every port all over the country. For in all probability she would try to make straight back to Italy, where, even if she were arrested for crimes committed in England, according to international law, the Italian authorities would not be bound to deliver her up to an English tribunal. Yes, we felt that circumstances were at last pointing to a crisis, and the arrest of the greatest criminal of her day was all but accomplished. Nevertheless, one knew that with such resources as Madam possessed she might surround herself with unexpected defenses, for she had many friends in the country, and some of these moved in the highest and most influential circles. By an early train the two detectives, Dufreyer and myself, returned to town. Madam had, of course, avoided the railways, and had doubtless gone off by road on a pre-arranged plan with some of her Confederates. On the way up, Tyler, who had been silent for some little time, lent across to the official inspector and said, Ford, I shall put Miss Sparringer onto this case now. I have more faith in her intuition and skill where a woman is to be hunted down than in any of my own men or yours either. The inspector smiled. Just as you like, he said, I am well aware of Miss Sparringer's skill. There is not a cleverer or lady detective in the whole of London, but, whether she is employed in the case or not, Madam cannot keep out of our clutches much longer. She has probably got back to London by now. And, once there, I'll swear, she won't get out. What we have to do when we arrive is to go straight to Bow Street and get the warrant drawn up. You look terribly knocked up, head, said Dufreyer, glancing at me. I have not quite got over the shock I received yesterday, was my reply. But my hand and arm aren't nearly so painful as they were, and I am far too excited to think of rest at present. When I reach town I shall go straight off to Monkhouse in Wimple Street and take his advice. My impression is that the arm will be all right in a week or so, and now, have in what may, I intend to be in at the death. Dufreyer gave me one of his steady, long glances, but he did not shake his head or attempt to oppose me, for he knew that on this point my resolution was firm. On reaching London I left my companions, who promised to call at my house about one o'clock, and went straight off to see Monkhouse. He dressed my arm in hand carefully and said that I had had a miraculous escape. I then went home and waited anxiously for the arrival of Dufreyer and the police officers. They came soon after the hour arranged, having obtained the warrant for the arrest of Madame Colucci. To my surprise I saw that they were accompanied by a stranger, a tall, well-made girl of about five and twenty years of age. Tyler introduced her to me as Miss Anna Beringer, and added in a whisper that we were all right now as we had secured her services. I glanced at her with some curiosity. She was a good-looking girl, with a keen, clever face. Her gray eyes were very bright, and all her features small and well-formed, but there was a certain hardness about her lips which struck me even at the first glance. Those lips alone gave indication of her character, for there was nothing else in her appearance at all out of the common, and to an ordinary person she would appear simply as a bright, well-set-up young girl, with high spirits in a somewhat off-hand manner. Her usual expression was both frank and open, and her voice was very pleasant to listen to. Mr. Tyler has given me the outline of the case, she said, turning to me. I know exactly what occurred yesterday. By the way, Mr. Head, I hope you are feeling better. Madame Colucci acted in a most dastardly way towards you, and you escaped as by a miracle. I need not say that Madame is very well known to me. It has been the most earnest wish of my life for several years now, to be connected with her capture. I look upon such a capture as the blue ribbon of my profession. She shall not escape me now. As Miss Beringer spoke, the hard lines round her mouth grew harder still, and the womanly element in her face faded out, giving place to a strong, masculine look of determination and resolution. Well, said Ford, we have got the warrant at last, so it is all comparatively plain-sailing. The first thing is to go at once to Madame's house. She will scarcely have arrived there yet, but we can at least search the place and put a man on guard. Do you feel up to coming with us, Mr. Head?" he added, turning to me. Certainly, I replied, well then, we had better lose no time. I have a carriage at the door, and also a handsome. Miss Beringer, Dufraer, and myself a moment later entered the land-ow which was in waiting for us, and the two detectives followed in the handsome. We all drove straight to Wellbeck Street. As we approached Madame's house, we saw that it bore the usual marks of being shut up and comparatively deserted. The window boxes were destitute of flowers, the blinds were down, the steps had not been cleaned, and an air of desolation hung over the place. Dufraer and I ascended the steps and rang the bell. Ford, Tyler, and Miss Beringer remained in the street. Suppose we cannot get in, I said after a moment's pause, for no one had yet come to answer our summons. With this warrant in my possession we can, if necessary, break down the door, replied Ford, laughing. But here comes someone at last. We heard shuffling footsteps approaching. They reached the door, the chain inside was undone, and some bolts drawn back. The door was then opened, and a tall, old woman stood on the threshold. What do you want? She said, speaking in a mumbling voice. We want Madame Colucci, said Ford. Is she within? The woman started back quite perceptibly. When Ford came up and spoke to her, I saw that she trembled all over. Madame is not at home. She began. Ford interrupted hastily. Look here, Mrs. I have a warrant here for the arrest of Madame Colucci, and I demand an entrance, as I wish to search the house immediately. The woman drew back, apparently paralyzed with fear, and we immediately entered the hall in a body. I tell you, Madame is not here, she whimpered. Madame has not been here since Saturday last. Ford pushed her aside unceremoniously, and we began our search. We began with the magnificent reception rooms on the ground floor. This was the first time I had been inside Madame's house in Wellbeck Street, but the splendor of the great rooms and the extraordinary luxury of their decorations scarcely astonished me, for I knew the taste of their owner only too well. Had I not seen Madame Colucci's palace in Naples, had not her reception rooms there been all too familiar to me in those early days, when she exercised so fatal a charm over my life, and by so doing ruined all my future, the English house bore many marks of its foreign ownership. Treasures of priceless value from all parts of the globe were scattered here and there, the most valuable curios of every sort abounded, while carvings of strange heathen deities and frescoes executed with all the skill of which modern art is capable decorated the ceilings. Magnificent pictures by English as well as foreign painters, both old masters and more recent productions, were to be found on the walls. We entered the consulting room, the door of which was hung with a splendid specimen of Goblin's tapestry. The same magnificence and wealth of detail were to be found here. Madame's own special desk was an Italian one in walnut wood. It was inlaid with scrollwork and figures of the cardinal virtues and the pagan deities. Close by its side was the chair in which she must have sat to receive her many patience. This was of antique oak lined with old tapestry, the back and arms profusely set with enameled medallions. There was also, not far from the desk and chair, a handsome Louis XV's Escortoir, inlaid with various woods and heavy mountings of chased ormaloo. The rest of the furniture of the room was in keeping with that portion which immediately surrounded Madame's chair. The walls from floor to ceiling were formed of inlaid woods and the ceiling itself was in the shape of a dome, which gave a sort of colossal effect to the great room. But splendid as everything was, the place wore a strange air of desolation. It was only to stand within these walls, to know that the animating and dominant spirit was no longer present to give life and significance to the whole. Having finished searching the ground floor, we went upstairs. The upper part of the house was furnished in a less heavy and more cheerful style, but it was also quite deserted. We were just coming down again when a ladder leading to the roof attracted Ford's attention. He ran up and opened a trapdoor. We followed him and found, secured in a sheltered part of the roof between two gables, a pigeon-coat, which was now open and empty. There is nothing to be found here, I said, somewhat impatiently. Had we not better go at once and search the vaults and the laboratories? As I said the words, I knew little that our apparently unimportant discovery on the roof of the house was destined to be brought home to us in a remarkable manner. We went down to the basement and continued our exhaustive search. The old woman now came forward and said, in a whining, agitated voice, that she was the only person in the house, all the other servants, having been dismissed. Can you show us the way to the laboratories? I asked of her. She looked uneasy, but did not hesitate to comply. She pointed with her finger, and we went down a dim passage. The door of the outer laboratory was open and we entered. There was another beyond this, also with its door ajar. Both rooms were fitted up with every modern device and excited my curiosity as well as envy. But search as we would, we could get no clue to madam's whereabouts. She is not in the house, that is certain, said Ford, and now there is nothing whatever for us to do but to keep a sharp watch in case she should venture to return. As he spoke my attention was attracted by the attitude of the old woman. Hitherto she had followed us about something like a snarling, an ill-conditioned kerr, who protested, but had not the courage to attack. Now she came boldly into the room and stood facing us, leaning up against the wall. Her eyes were dark and piercing, and shone out on us from beneath heavy, overhanging brows. Her mouth was almost toothless, and she had a nutcracker chin. You won't find her, she muttered. Ah, you may look as long as you like, but you'll never find her. The likes of her ain't for the likes of you. She ain't like other women. She's more spirit than woman, and the evil one himself is a friend to her. You won't find her. Never, never. She laughed in a hollow and exultant manner as she spoke. Would it not be well to arrest this old crone, I said, turning to Ford. He shook his head. I don't believe she has anything to do with the conspiracy, he said, dropping his voice to a whisper, beyond the fact that she is Madame's paid servant. But even if we wish to arrest her, we could not do so on vague suspicion. We can, but watch her closely. Then there is nothing more to be done at present? I queried in a tone of disappointment. As far as you are concerned, head, there is nothing more, answered Tyler. I should recommend you to go home and have a good rest. We will let you know the instant anything happens. We parted outside the house, where an officer in plain dress was already standing on duty. Defraier said he would look me up in the evening, and the detectives and Miss Berenger went on their way. I hailed a handsome and returned to my own house. As I have already said, I was far too excited to rest. The old woman's words had affected me more strongly than I cared to allow, and as I paced up and down in my study, I could not help feeling anything but certain of the final result. I knew that Defraier, Miss Berenger, Tyler, and Ford were each and all absolutely sure that Madame would soon be captured, but I was possessed by uneasy fears. In this moment of extremity, would not the great criminal bring all the strength of her magnificent genius to bear on the situation? As I thought over these things, I was suddenly possessed by a sense of comfort. This was caused by my recollection of Miss Berenger's face. Ordinary as that face looked to the casual observer, it was by no means so to those who watched it more narrowly. To such a watcher its strange look of power could not but appeal. So contemplated the face was the reverse of pleasant. The hardness round the lips became its dominant feature. There was also an insistence in the gray eyes which might on emergency amount to absolute cruelty. But it was the strange look of strength which I now remembered with a feeling of satisfaction. If Madame ever met her match it would be in the person of that slight girl, for she possessed, I knew well, a grip of her subject which neither Ford nor Tyler, with all their intelligence and long practice, could own to. Miss Berenger could do work which they could not even attempt, for to her belonged the delicate intuition which is so essentially a woman's province. I longed to see her again and also alone, that I might talk over matters more freely with her. Tyler had furnished me with her private address and I now resolved to telegraph to her. I did so, asking permission to call upon her that evening. The reply came within an hour. Don't come to-night but expect me to call on you early to-morrow. Defrayer came in as I was reading the telegram. What have you got there? he asked. A wire from Miss Berenger I replied. I put it into his hand. You are impressed then by our new detective? he said slowly. Very much so, I answered. I gave a few of my reasons and he favored me with a grave smile. I never felt so hopeful, he continued. We are in a position we were never in yet. It is, as Tyler says, merely a question of days, where so many are on watch, madam cannot long escape us. Remember that the person we want to get is Madam Kaluchi, I answered, and do not be too sure. For my part, I shall never be certain of her until she is absolutely our prisoner. He did not remain with me much longer, and I spent the night as best I could. Between ten and eleven o'clock on the following morning Miss Berenger arrived. She entered my room quickly, came close to my side, and fixed her eyes on my face. I was startled by the change in her appearance. The gray eyes had a curious bright glitter in them, and her face was pale and drawn. Yes, Mr. Head, she said as she took the chair off of her. These cases take it out of me. When once on the track I never rest day or night, I have never failed yet. If I did, I think it would kill me." She shivered as she spoke, and her thin lips were drawn back to show her teeth. She had somewhat the expression of a tigress about to spring. You have news, Miss Berenger? I said. I hope good news. I have news, she replied gravely, and I trust it is good. It was because of what I am about to tell you that I was unable to see you last evening. Are you strong enough and well enough to go down at once with Ford to Hastings? Certainly, I replied. I will give you my reasons for asking you to do so. There is a yacht cruising off the coast. It is said to belong to a Captain Marshant. I have had my suspicions from the first, that it is subsidized by Madame. It was on account of these suspicions that I went to Hastings last night. To Hastings, I said. Yes, I spent several hours of the night and evening in one of the low quarters of the town by the fish market. There is no doubt that several members of the gang are hiding in the neighborhood of Hastings, and their object is, of course, to get to the yacht. It is all important to take immediate steps to prevent this. But how could you find out about the yacht in the first instance? I asked. I obtained a single clue, she replied, no matter how obtained, and just when your telegram reached me was on my way to Hastings, disguised as a fisherwoman. I possessed many disguises in my rooms, and am seldom taken aback when I want to act a good part. I went third class to Hastings and immediately visited the vicinity of the fish market. I have a friend there, a fishwife, who does not know my real character, and who is always glad to see me. I can act the part admirably, and when I asked her to accompany me to a large gin palace she was all too willing. I was, in reality, following two men, but she knew nothing of that. While these men were drinking at the bar, I drew near, and was fortunate enough to hear a few words of their conversation. They spoke for the most part in Italian, which I happen to know. The name of Captain Marchand's yacht, the snowflake, dropped from the lips of one. There was also a woman mentioned, but not by name. The snowflake was waiting for the woman. Meanwhile, the men were hiding in an old disused Martello Tower on the Pevensey Marshes. This I learned scrap by scrap, but it was enough for my purpose. I returned to town by the first train this morning. Ford and Tyler have received all the information I have just told you, and are certain that the yacht belongs to Madame. Ford and Tyler go to Hastings by the twelve o'clock train, and now the question is, can you go with them, and will Mr. Defrayer be induced to accompany you? Knowing as much as you must do about the society, your help will be invaluable. I will go, I said, and I will send a wire to Defrayer. Very well, she replied, it is scarcely eleven o'clock yet. You will find the detectives at Charing Cross at noon. But won't you come with us? I said. She turned a little pale. No, she answered. My work obliges me to remain in town. Do you mind telling me what your next step is? I asked. I would rather not, she answered, for even here walls may have ears. As she spoke she glanced round her with a nervous flash in her eyes, which left them almost as soon as it appeared. I never confide my plan of operations to anyone in advance, she continued. I have much to do and not a moment to lose. I believe now between us. Madam has little chance of escape, but one false step, the smallest in discretion, would be fatal. Good-bye, Mr. Head. I am glad that you have confidence in me. The utmost, I replied, as I wrung her hand. A moment later she left the house. I packed a few things, sent a wire to Defrayer, and at the right moment drove off to Charing Cross, where I met my friend and also the two detectives. We took our seats in the train, and it moved out of the station. We happened to have the carriage to ourselves, and Ford was in such a state of excitement that he could scarcely sit still. Did I not say that Miss Barringer was the one person in all London to help us? He cried. She has like a blood hound when she sensed the prey, and never lets go of the scent. From what she tells me, there is little or no doubt that most of the gang are hiding down in the Pevensey Marshes, and have taken possession of one of the old disused Martello Towers. There are a good many of them along the south coast. Defrayer asked one or two questions, and Ford continued, That's a cute idea about using the old tower, and I believe the one which we are to watch is number fifty-nine. It stands on the beach by the marshes of Pevensey Bay. The gang are only waiting till the steam yacht now being closely watched can take them off. Of course, we could quite easily go straight to the tower and catch those members of the gang who are there, but we want Madam Calucci, and my impression is that she is quite certain to come down to-night or to-morrow. Our present work, however, will be to watch the tower day and night, so that when she does arrive we can catch her. Miss Barringer is under the strong impression that at present Madam is hiding in London. We may have a roughened tumble with the gang when it comes to the point, but I have taken steps to secure lots of assistance. On arriving at Hastings Station we were met by a couple of Tyler's agents. Has anything fresh occurred? Asked Ford as we elided. Nothing, answered one of the men, but there is no doubt that several members of the gang are in number fifty-nine tower and the steam yacht has drawn off down the channel. Just as I expected, said Ford, well, the sooner we mount guards the better. We will start as soon as it gets dark. The next few hours we spent in making preparations. It was arranged that we should go as if we intended shooting Wild Duck. This would give us the excuse of carrying guns, which we knew we might possibly want for a bigger game if the gang offered any serious resistance. At six o'clock our little band consisting of Defrayer, Ford, Tyler, myself, and a couple of policemen in plain clothes drove westwards out of the town to a lonely part of the shore. Here a boat awaited us, and entering it we pulled out into the bay. The moon had risen, and we could see the row of martello towers dotted along the beach and the dark waste of the marshes behind them. Ford steered, and after an hour's hard pulling turned the boat's head toward the beach, where one of the dykes ran into the marshes from the sea. This we silently entered, and in a few moments the tall bulrushes that grew on either side completely concealed us. Ford raised his hand, and we quietly shipped our skulls. That's where they are, he whispered, pointing to one of the towers about two hundred yards off. There's not a light visible, but they are there and no mistake. Now, what we have to do is this. We will leave the boat here, and crawl up under cover of the shingle ridge. We shall be quite close to the tower there, and we can lie in wait, unseen by the gang. How madam will come, if to-night at all, by boat or otherwise, it is impossible to say, but at any rate, whenever she arrives she cannot escape us. There is the steam-yacht now, he added, pointing out to sea. I looked up, and saw two red and green lights moving slowly along, a mile or so from the shore. Taking our guns and the provisions and flasks we had brought with us, we crept through the rushes and out onto the shingle, till we were within twenty yards of the tower. So close were we that I could see every detail. The ladder leading up to the door of the tower, half way up the wall, was plainly visible, as was also the old rusty twenty-four pounder, pointing uselessly out to sea. The tower itself was almost in ruins, and here and there the brickwork of the wall showed through the stucco which had been worn off by time. It was a calm night, and only the wash of the sea broke the stillness. I stretched myself out on the rough loose boulders and shingle, and laid my gun by my side. Hour after hour crept by. The vigil we were all keeping was sufficiently strange and exciting to keep us wakeful and attentive. Presently a night breeze arose, and sighed among the bulrushes and the marshes behind us. But all within the tower was absolutely silent. Not a light showed through the chinks of the windows, not a footfall came to our ears. From where I lay I could watch the lights of the yacht move to and fro in the black darkness. The slow hours dragged on, and still nothing happened. At last dawn began to break. It grew brighter each moment. I was just turning towards Ford for our signal to go back to the boat, when suddenly I saw him leap up, raise his gun, and a loud report rang out on the still morning air. I leapt to my feet also, as did the others. The little window of the tower opened, and two revolver shots rang through it, as Tyler, and three of the men rushed up the ladder. I followed them immediately, at a loss to know what this sudden change of plan meant. In a few moments we had smashed down the flimsy wooden door, and had come in contact with four men, who armed with revolvers greeted us from within. Our onslaught, however, was so sudden and unexpected that after a short but desperate resistance we had taken them all prisoners. They were immediately handcuffed, and Ford and Tyler, with the other police officers, led them out of the tower onto the beach. Ford's eyes were blazing with excitement, and to my surprise I saw a dead pigeon at his feet. A messenger to Wellbeck Street, Mr. Head, he exclaimed, handing me what looked like a piece of cigarette paper. A carrier pigeon, I cried, the meaning of his first shot now bursting upon me. Yes, and I had a lucky shot at it in this half-light, he continued, but to tell you the truth, I half expected something of the kind, and so to speak, lay in wait for that pigeon. Last night things came back to me, and I remembered that empty pigeon coat on the roof of the house in Wellbeck Street. From the fact that a message was about to be sent to her, there is no doubt whatever that madam has returned to her town residence. We will catch her for certain now, though the house she has contrived to get into our house with our man-watching, it is more than I can say. Can you read this? As he spoke he put the cigarette paper into my hand. I scrutinized it closely. Written in very tiny letters I read the following words. Stay in London, don't come here. Danger. Yes, went on forward. They spied us directly it began to set light, and seeing their game was up, dispatched this to madam. But for that shot of mine she would probably have escaped us again. Now we have her safe. But how, I answered, the pigeon is dead, so she won't get the message, and in all probability will come down to Hastings today or tonight. We will keep her in London, said Ford, looking extremely knowing and much excited. Oh yes, she will have her message all right, and in two hours from the present time. Bring them along, Tom. One of the men was now seen descending the ladder with a wooden cage in his hands, in which were fluttering two more pigeons. By Jove I cried, seeing what he meant. This is splendid. Yes, and it is about the smartest bit of work I have ever done, he replied, and we owe it all to Miss Berenger. She has given us the clue. As he spoke he handed me another piece of cigarette paper, exactly like the one on which the first message had been written. You might make things a bit stronger, Mr. Head, he said. I thought a moment and then wrote, Stay in Wellbeck Street until one of us comes to you, important, danger if you stir. Ford's eyes glittered as he read my words. He attached the little note deftly to the neck of one of the birds. There, off you go, he exclaimed. It's lucky birds can't talk. He tossed the pigeon into the air. The bird rose rapidly in gradually increasing circles, and then shot off in a straight line for the north, and so was lost to view, bearing my message to Madame Colucci. As the pigeon darted up into the air I heard one of the prisoners utter an exclamation and saw him turn to his fellow. This action of ours had evidently taken him completely by surprise. The man at whom he looked made no reply, even by a glance. But folding his arms across his breast stood motionless as if at attention. A glance showed me all too plainly that, desperate as the men were, they were at least true to Madame. Even death by torture did such await them, would not induce any one of the brotherhood to betray their chief. They were all well dressed and had the appearance of gentlemen. They took their apparently hopeless fate with stoicism and did not attempt any escape. By this time the sun had well risen, and a glorious morning had chased away the gloom of the night. Placing our prisoners in the boat, we pulled round to a lower part of the shore. Here a trap met us by appointment, and in less than an hour we were all on our way to London. Success had at last rewarded our efforts. We had secured Madame's gang, and now it would be an easy feat to make Madame herself our prisoner. The Brotherhood of the Seven Kings by L. T. Meade and Robert Eustace. Chapter IX. The Bloodhound. Part II. Ford had wired to Miss Berringer to meet us at the station, and he whispered to me from time to time as we ran up to town his keen sense of satisfaction. Trust Miss Berringer not to have been idle while we were busy down here, he exclaimed. She may probably be able to account for the way in which Madame Colucci has got back to her house. Ah, we have done for Madame Colucci at last. She has got the message of the carrier pigeon by now, but she little guesses who are coming to pay her a visit. He laughed as he spoke. The train began to approach its destination and slowed down preparatory to coming into the station. The first thing to be done, said Ford, is to take our prisoners to Bow Street and have them formally charged. Then we will all go round and visit Madame in a party. Ah, here we are. I'll just jump out first and have a look around for Miss Berringer. He was the first to spring onto the platform, but look as he would he could not find the lady detective. He came back presently to the rest of us with a crestfallen expression of face. It's odd, he said, but it only shows that she's precious busy with our business. In all probability we will find her in the vicinity of the house. Now then, to look after the prisoners. We took our men in a couple of cabs to Bow Street, and having seen them safe in the cells drove straight to Madame's house. We had our last great capture to make in order to complete our work. As we neared the house a strange and almost ungovernable excitement took possession of me. De Freyre and the two detectives were also silent. This was no time for speech. My heart beat hard and fast. The stirring events of the last twenty-four hours had kept my brain going at fever heat, and week after the shock I had recently undergone the strain began to tell. Once or twice I had to shake myself as a man in a dream. Truly it was almost impossible to believe that in a few moments now Madame Colucci the invincible, the daring, the all-powerful would be our prisoner. We drew up at last at the well-known entrance and spoke a few words to the man on duty. Oh yes, he replied, it's all right, and there's little or no news. The old woman has gone out once or twice to shop or get some food, but no one has entered the house. What about Miss Behringer? Has she been here? I asked. She was here yesterday evening, he answered, but I have not seen her since. Telling him to be in readiness without informing him of our convictions, we knocked loudly and rang imperiously at the door. After a very short delay the same old woman appeared. She wore a sort of nightcap with a deep frill and her piercing eyes confronted us from under the shaggy brows. She would only now vouch safe to open the door a few inches. The place showed dimly in the half light, for every blind was down and every shutter up. We could not even see the bent form of the old woman distinctly. Now look here, said Ford, your mistress is in this house somewhere. We happen to know it for an absolute fact. Will you take us to her or not? For find her, we will. The woman gave a low laugh, suppressed as soon as uttered. You may look all you can, she exclaimed, but madam is not here. You are welcome to search the house to your heart's content. After saying the last word she mumbled something more to herself and then shuffled off down the passage. We all entered the house. Now then, said Ford, we'll search from cellar to garret and we'll start this time downstairs. We descended to the basement and made a careful search through the various domestic offices until once more we found ourselves in the first of madam Kaluci's magnificent laboratories. Ford switched on the electrics and we looked around us. The place was in perfect order, but a curious ethereal distillate familiar to my nostrils hung in the air. I could not account for this at the time, though it filled me with a vague fear. We went on into the second laboratory, which was also in order, but was pervaded even more strongly by the same smell. At the farther end of this room was a very low doorway studded with nails and iron bands. It looked as if it led into some cellar, and I suddenly remembered that we had not explored beyond its portals on the occasion of our first visit. The old woman had followed us into the laboratories, keeping well in the background. Ford, who seemed to observe the door at the same moment that I had, turned upon her eagerly. Where is the key of this door? he said. I don't know, she answered. Go and find it immediately. My mistress keeps the keys of that room, and until she returns, you can't get in, was the low reply. We'll soon see about that, cried Ford. He turned to one of his men. Just go out, he said, and tell the man on duty outside to get me an axe and a crowbar, and bring them here as soon as possible. Hurry as fast as you can, Johnson. There's not a moment to lose. The man left us immediately. I think we shall find a clue at the other side of this locked door, continued Ford, glancing at me. I hope Johnson will look sharp. In less than a quarter of an hour the man returned with the necessary implements. Martin and I went together to fetch them, he said. I'm sorry I could not be back sooner. Ford seized the axe, and after a few smashing blows over the lock inserted the bar and the door burst open. He stepped inside immediately, but as he did so he started back, and a look of horror spread over his face. We all rushed in. Good God, we are too late, he cried. She has escaped us. Escaped? How? I said, pushing forward. By death, he answered. He went forward and knelt on the floor of the room. In the dim light I could plainly see the body of a woman. Ford struck a match and held it close to the face. It was the body of Madame Colucci. Yes, there she lay. The well-known face in all its magnificent beauty wore now the awful repose of death. Beside her was a small hypodermic syringe, and also an open bottle containing some clear solution. From that open bottle had issued the smell which pervaded the outer and the inner laboratory. For fully a moment we all gazed down at the dead woman in absolute silence. The sudden discovery had struck us dumb. How had she managed to obtain access to the house when it had been so closely watched was indeed a mystery. But after all it mattered nothing now. The end had come. A fit end to such a life as hers had been. We withdrew from the semi-darkness of the room into the outer laboratory. Defraer glanced round him. I wonder where the old woman can be, he exclaimed. She was with us a moment ago, I answered. Is she not here now? No, she has gone back to her own haunts most likely. Had we not better call her, it is impossible that Madam could have gotten to the house without her assistance. I will go and have a look for her, said Tyler. He left the laboratory, and we heard him moving about the house, his footsteps echoing as he went. He presently came back. She is not in any of the kitchens, he said. Perhaps she has gone upstairs. It does not matter much now, does it? No, I answered. And then once more we were all silent, too stunned to utter many words. I never saw any one look so utterly crestfallen as Ford. To think that Madam Kaluchi should have done us at the very end, he exclaimed, more than once. But it was like her, yes, it was like her. The message which the carrier-prison brought meant evidently more to her than lay on the surface, I remarked. She saw that she was hemmed in on every side, and was not the woman to be taken alive. Well, our search has come to an unlooked for end, said Ford again. But I do wonder, he added, where Ms. Berenger can be. It is very odd that we have not heard or seen anything of her. Just then Dufreyer spoke. Hark! he said. What is that? We all stood still and listened. Far away, as if from some great distance, we heard a muffled cry. Again and again it was repeated. So faint was the sound that it seemed to be a way out in the street. What on earth can it be? said Ford, looking round him anxiously. We moved softly round the laboratory, fearing to disturb the silent figure that lay in the awful repose of death. Again and once again we heard the cry. We stopped now and then to listen more closely. At last we reached a point where it seemed louder than anywhere else. I lay down and applied my ear to the flagstones. It is here, I cried in intense excitement. Just beneath us. Listen! Yes, it was now unmistakable. The sound came from beneath our feet. There is a cellar beneath this, I said. Someone is emured here. We searched rapidly for any sign of an entrance, but searched in vain. Once again the cry was repeated, but now it was as faint as that which might come from the throat of an infant. There is someone under here, said Dufreyer, in a tone of the greatest excitement. We must smash the flagstone immediately. Ford and Tyler both seized the crowbar, and a few moments they had loosened the stone, levered it up and turned it over. As they did so I perceived that there was a secret spring underneath, and had we looked long enough we could have removed the stone without the help of the crowbar. The moment it was turned up a breath of intensely cold air greeted us, and we saw immediately beneath our feet a dark circular hole. A low moan came up from the darkness. I gently lowered down the crowbar. It rested on something soft. Our excitement now was intense. Taking off my coat I lowered myself through the hole, and holding on by my hands to the edge of the hole, my feet at last touched the solid ground. The cold that surrounded me was so intense that I almost gasped for breath. In what infernal region was I finding myself? I let go, and striking a match looked round. Good God! A woman lay in this fearful dungeon! In another moment I had raised her, and as her face caught the light I saw at a glance that it was Miss Berenger. The others quickly lifted her out, and I sprang up beside them. A pair of steel handcuffs were on her wrists. She was so icy cold from the awful chill of that subterranean chamber that at first she looked like one dead. Her mouth was torn and her hands swollen. When she was brought up into the warmer air she lay to all appearance unconscious for several moments. Defrayer quickly took a flask from his pocket, poured out some brandy, and put it to her lips. At first she could not swallow, then to our great relief a few drops went down her throat. She sighed audibly and opened her eyes. When she did so she stared with a dazed expression all round. In less than a moment however full consciousness returned. A fierce light of understanding shown in the depths of her eyes and she set up. Have you got her? She asked, gazing wildly round. We have, Miss Berenger. But not alive, I answered. Now tell us how it is you are here. Tell us what happened if you possibly can. But the old woman, Madam Kaloochee, have you got her? Madam Kaloochee is dead, I answered, thinking that she had not yet recovered her senses. But she is not, she answered in a passionate voice. Take the old woman! Ford turned to one of his men. Fetch her in, he said. I have had a good search for her already, said Tyler, and could not find her in any of the lower regions. He spoke in a whisper, and I do not think Miss Berenger heard him. She was lying back again with closed eyes. Ford's man rushed out of the room to return in a few moments. I have been all over the house, he said, and cannot find the woman high or low. She is not here. She must have gone out when Martin and I were away fetching the ax and crowbar. I remember now we left the door open. We had no thought of anything else in our excitement. Miss Berenger heard the words, and once again she roused herself. Now she sprang to her feet. I might have known it, she said. Fools, all of you! How was it she escaped? Did you not recognize her? But Madam Kaloochee is dead, I said. Come and look for yourself, if you do not believe me. Here she lies in this very room. You scarcely know what you are saying just now after your own awful experience. But at least Madam has not escaped. She can never harm anyone again. She has gone to her long account. Miss Berenger uttered a hollow laugh. I am all right, she said. It does not take me long to come back to my senses. A what fools all you, Ben, are. Madam knew what she was about when she immured me in that living grave. Do you call that, Madam Kaloochee? Come and look at her again. In the dim light of the laboratory we went and bent over the dead woman. I looked earnestly into the face and then raised my eyes. Beyond doubt poor Miss Berenger's senses had given way. The woman on whom I gazed was Madam Kaloochee. Feature for feature was the same. I see you doubt me, said Miss Berenger. Well, listen to my story. She stood before us and began to speak eagerly. We all clustered round her. Never before had we listened to a tale of more daring and unparalleled atrocity. I told you, Mr. Head, she began, that I had work which would keep me in town. So I had. From the time you went to Hastings yesterday I began to watch this house. I had all faith in the police officers you, Mr. Ford, had placed on duty. But I also felt certain that Madam, in her unbounded resources, would find a means to return. I knew that, if such were the case, it would need all a woman's keenest wit and intuition to foil her. She knew me, as well as I knew her. It is true that she feared no man in London, but I do believe she had a wholesome dread of Anna Berenger. Well, my watch began. And for the first hour or so nothing occurred. But as soon as it was dark I saw the old caretaker, who showed you over the house on the first occasion, come out by the area door. I immediately followed her. She went straight to a shop in the Merrillbone High Street, a small grocers. She remained there for nearly half an hour. When she came out she was carrying a bag, quite a small one which apparently contained some provisions. I followed her again, watching her closely as I did so. Something about her walk first attracted my attention. The man on duty passed us as we went down Wellbeck Street. I quickened my steps and was in reality only two or three feet behind the woman, whom I now strongly suspected, to be Madam Calucci herself. Just when we reached the open gate of the area, and as I was about to lay my hand on her shoulder, she turned quick as lightning upon me and dashed into my face a liquid which must have been a solution of the strongest ammonia. The effect was instantaneous. I fell back, gasping for breath, and unable to utter a sound. She well knew what the effect of the ammonia would be, causing a sudden paralysis of the glottis, which would prevent my uttering at work for a couple of moments. Before I could recover myself, she had flung her arm around me, had dragged me down the area steps into the house. The moment we got within she slipped a pair of handcuffs on my wrist, and also gagged me. I was so paralyzed by the effect of the ammonia, that I did not attempt to make the smallest struggle until too late. When she had gagged and bound me, she dragged me down a passage and into this laboratory where we are now standing. She then laid me on the floor and tied me down securely. When she had done this, she looked down at me and smiled a smile of devilish cruelty. Yes, Miss Berenger, she said, you are a smart woman, the smartest with one exception in all London. You are interested in me. I am about to gratify that interest. She left me for a few moments, and presently returned dragging something heavy after her. Horror of horrors! It was a woman's dead body. I could scarcely believe the evidence of my own senses. She laid the body on the floor and began to dress it in some of her clothes. Having done this, and having arranged it in the attitude of one who might have suddenly fallen and died, she came up to me again. Two years ago, she said, speaking slowly, and bending her face to within about a foot of mine, there lived a woman in Naples who was in every respect my double. She was like me in every feature, in height, proportion, even to the expression of the face. She was a peasant woman, but so strong was her resemblance to me that twice the Neapolitan police arrested her, believing her to be me. They, of course, discovered their mistake, and she quickly recovered her liberty. The woman died, and though to all appearance she was buried it was but a mock funeral, for I had been watching her, and I felt that in extremis she would be of the utmost use to me. I offered the woman's husband a large sum for her body. It was conveyed to my house in Naples, no matter how. The husband received his money, but in order that no tales might arise he was quickly afterwards put out of the way by one of my Confederates. I kept the body at a very low temperature, and when I came to England in my own yacht brought it with me. Since then it has remained in her frozen chamber beneath the floor of the inner laboratory, thus retaining its likeness, as under such circumstances it would perpetually. The time has come when I must use my double in order to effect my own escape. The most vindictive tribunal in the world will pause at the edge of the grave. My enemies will suppose that I am dead, and I shall escape from their power. For the likeness to me is so perfect that detection cannot be made until the autopsy. By then I shall be well out of the country. For the men who are on watch for me will have withdrawn the moment the news of my suicide is known. I mean to put a hypodermic syringe and a bottle of strong poison near the body of the woman. Thus all will be complete. This is my last trump card. And now, Miss Berenger, she added, with a strange laugh, which I hear even now echoing in my ears, for your part in this ghastly game. In order to ensure your silence I mean to consign you to the frozen chamber from which I have just taken this woman. Gagged and bound in that place your tortures will not last long. For death will soon release you from them. But know that you can never again mingle with your fellow men. Know also that you made a mistake when you pitted your strength against mine, for mine is the stronger. Come. She raised me as if I were an infant and lifted me into the inner room. I noticed that one of the flagstones was up. The gag prevented my speaking. The thongs which bound me prevented my struggling. Madam thrust me into the frozen chamber and sealed the stone above me. There I have remained for the last fifteen hours. What I have endured is beyond description. At last I fancied I heard footsteps overhead. I made one frantic struggle, and managed to remove the gag from my lips. The moment I did so I shouted wildly, Thank God you heard me in time. Miss Berenger's words fell on our ears like the strokes of a hammer. We were far too stunned to reply. Madam had been in our very grasp under our hands, and once more she had eluded. CHAPTER 10 THE DOOM PART I The mysterious disappearance of Madam Calucci was now the universal topic of conversation. Her house was deserted. Her numerous satellites were not to be found. The woman herself had gone as if it were from the face of the earth. Nearly every detective in London was engaged in her pursuit. Scotland Yard had never been more agog with excitement, but day after day passed and there was not the most remote tidings of her capture. No clue to her whereabouts could be obtained. That she was alive was certain, however, and my apprehensions never slumbered. I began to see that cruel face in my dreams, and whether I went abroad or whether I stayed at home it equally haunted me. A few days before Christmas I had a visit from Defrayer. He found me pacing up and down my laboratory. What is the matter? he said. The old story, I answered. He shook his head. This won't do, Norman. You must turn your attention to something else. That is impossible, I replied, raising haggard eyes to his face. He came up and laid his hand on my shoulder. You want change, head, and you must have it. I have come in the nick of time with an invitation which ought to suit us both. We have been asked down to Rokesby Rectory to spend Christmas with my old friend, the Rector. You have often heard me talk of William Sherwood. He is one of the best fellows I know. Shall I accept the invitation for us both? Where is Rokesby Rectory? I asked. In Cumberland, about 30 miles from Lake Windemere, a most picturesque quarter, we shall have as much seclusion as we like at Sherwood's house, and the air is bracing. If we run down next Monday, we shall be in time for a merry Christmas. What do you say? I agreed to accompany Defrayer and the following Monday at an early hour we started on our journey. Nothing of any moment occurred, except that at one of the large junctions a party of gypsies got into a third-class compartment near our own. Amongst them I noticed one woman, taller than the rest, who wore a shawl so arranged over her head as to conceal her face. The unusual sight of gypsies travelling by train attracted my attention, and I remarked on it to Defrayer. Later on I noticed too that they were singing, and that one voice was clear and full and rich. The circumstance, however, made very little impression on either of us. At Rokesby Station the gypsies left the train, and each of them carried his or her bundle, disappearing almost immediately into a thick pine forest, which stretched away to the left of the little station. The peculiar gate of the tall woman attracted me, and I was about to mention it to Defrayer when Sherwood's sudden appearance and harried hospitable greeting put it out of my head. Sherwood was a true specimen of a country parson. His views were broad minded, and he was a thorough sportsman. The vicarage was six miles from the nearest station, but the drive through the bracing air was invigorating, and I felt some of the heaviness and depression which had made my life a burden of late already leaving me. When we reached the house we saw a slenderly made girl standing in the porch. She held a lamp in her hand, and its bright light illuminated each feature. She had dark eyes and a pale, somewhat nervous face. She could not have been more than eighteen years of age. Here we are, Rosalie, called out her father, and cold too after our journey. I hope you have seen to the fires. Yes, Father, the house is warm and comfortable," was the reply. The girl stepped onto the gravel and held out her hand to Defrayer who was an old friend. Defrayer turned and introduced me. Mr. Head? Rosalie, he said. You have often heard me talk of him. Many times, she answered, How do you do, Mr. Head? I am very glad indeed to welcome you here. You seem quite like an old friend, but come in, both if you do, you must be frozen. She led the way into the house, and we found ourselves in a spacious and very lofty hall. It was lit by one or two standard lamps, and was in all respects on a larger and more massive scale than is usually to be found in a country rectory. Ah, you are noticing our hall, said the girl, observing the interest in my face. It is quite one of the features of Rokesby. But the fact is, this is quite an old house, and was not turned into a rectory until the beginning of the present century. I will take you all over it to-morrow. Now, do come into Father's smoking-room. I have tea prepared there for you. She turned to the left, threw open a heavy oak door, and introduced us into a room lined with cedar from floor to ceiling. Great logs were burning on the hearth, and tea had been prepared. Miss Sherwood attended to our comforts, and presently left us to enjoy our smoke. I have a thousand and one things to see to, she said. With Christmas so near, you may imagine that I am very busy. When she left the room, the rector looked after her with affection in his eyes. What a charming girl! I could not help saying. I am glad you take to her, Mr. Head, was his reply. I need not say that she is the light of my old eyes. Rosalie's mother died a fortnight after her birth, and the child has been as my one you-lam. But I am sorry to say she is sadly delicate, and I have had many hours of anxiety about her. Indeed, I replied, it is true she looks pale, but I should have judged that she was healthy rather of the wiry make. In body she is fairly healthy, but hers is a peculiarly nervous organism. She suffers intensely from all sorts of terrors, and her environment is not the best for her. She had a shock when young. I will tell you about it later on. Soon afterwards Defraer and I went to our respective rooms, and when we met in the drawing-room half an hour later Miss Sherwood in a pretty dress was standing by the hearth. Her manners were very simple and unaffected, and although thoroughly girlish or not wanting indignity, she was evidently well accustomed to receiving her father's guests, and also to making them thoroughly at home. When we entered the dining-room we had already engaged in a brisk conversation, and her young voice and soft dark brown eyes added much to the attractiveness of the pleasant scene. Towards the end of the meal I alluded once again to the old house. I suppose it is very old, I said. It has certainly taken me by surprise. You must tell me its history. I looked full at my young hostess as I spoke. To my surprise a shadow immediately flitted over her expressive face. She hesitated, then said slowly. Everyone remarks the house, and little wonder. I believe in parts it is over three hundred years old. Of course, some of the rooms are more modern. Father thinks we were in great luck when it was turned into a rectory. But here she dropped her voice, and a faint sigh escaped her lips. I looked at her again with curiosity. The place was spoiled by the last rector, she went on. He and his family committed many acts of vandalism. But Father has done his best to restore the house to its ancient appearance. You shall see it to-morrow if you are really interested. I take a deep interest in old houses, I answer, and this, from the little I have seen of it, is quite to my mind. Doubtless you have many old legends in connection with it, and if you have a real ghost it will complete the charm. I smiled as I spoke. But the next instant the smile died on my lips. A sudden flame of color had rushed into Miss Sherwood's face, leaving it far paler than was natural. She dropped her napkin, and stooped to pick it up. As she did so, I observed that the rector was looking at her anxiously. He immediately burst into conversation, completely turning the subject into what I considered a trivial channel. A few moments later the young girl rose and left us to our wine. As soon as we were alone, Sherwood asked us to draw our chairs to the fire, and began to speak. I heard what you said to Rosalie, Mr. Head. He began, and I am sorry now that I did not warn you. There is a painful legend connected with this old house, and the ghost whom you so laughingly alluded to exists, as far as my child is concerned, to a painful degree. Indeed, I answered. I do not believe in the ghost myself, he continued. But I do believe in the influence of a very strong, nervous terror over Rosalie. If you like, I will tell you the story. Nothing could please me better, I answered. The rector opened a fresh box of cigars, handed them to us, and began. The man who was my predecessor here had escaped Grace's son, who got into serious trouble with a peasant girl in his forest. He took the girl to London, and then deserted her. She drowned herself. The boy's father vowed he would never see the lad again, but the mother pleaded for him, and there was a sort of patched-up reconciliation. He came down to spend Christmas in the house, having faithfully promised to turn over a new leaf. There were festivities and high mirth. On Christmas night the whole family retired to bed as usual, but soon afterwards a scream was heard, issuing from the room where the young man slept, the West Room, it is called. By the way, it is the one you are to occupy, Defraier. The rector rushed into the room, and to his horror and surprise found the unfortunate young man dead, stabbed to the heart. There was naturally great excitement and alarm. More particularly, when it was discovered that a well-known herb woman, the mother of the girl whom the young man had decoyed to London, had been seen haunting the place. Rumor went so far as to say that she had entered the house by means of a secret passage known only to herself. Her name was Mother Harriet, and she was regarded by the villagers as a sort of witch. This woman was arrested on suspicion, but nothing was definitely proved against her, and no trial took place. Six weeks later she was found dead in her hut on Grey Tor, and since then the rumor is that she haunts the rectory on each Christmas night, entering the house through the secret passage which we none of us can discover. This story is rife in the house, and I suppose Rosalie heard it from her old nurse. Certain it is that when she was about eight years old she was found on Christmas night screaming violently and declaring that she had seen the herb woman who entered her room and bent down over her. Since then her nerves have never been the same. Each Christmas as it comes round is a time of mental terror to her, although she tries hard to struggle against her fears. On her account I shall be glad when Christmas is over. I do my best to make it cheerful, but I can see that she dreads it terribly. What about the secret passage? I interrupt it. Ah! I have something curious to tell you about that," said the old rector, rising as he spoke. There is not the least doubt that it exists. It is said to have been made at the time of the Monmouth Rebellion, and is supposed to be connected with the churchyard about two hundred yards away. But although we have searched, and have even had experts down to look into the matter, we have never been able to get the slightest clue to its whereabouts. My impression is that it was bricked up long ago, and that whoever committed the murder entered the house by some other means. Be that as it may. The passage cannot be found, and we have long ceased to treble ourselves about it. But you have no clue whatever to its whereabouts? I asked. Nothing which I can call a clue. My belief is that we shall have to pull down the old pile before we find the passage. I should like to search for it, I said impulsively. These sorts of things interest me immensely. I could give you a sort of key head, if that would be any use," said Sherwood. It is in an old black-letter book. As he spoke he crossed the room, took a book bound in vellum with silver clasps from a locked bookcase, and opening it laid it before me. This book contains a history of Rokesby, he continued. Can you read black letter? I replied that I could. He then turned a page and pointed to some rhymed words. More than one expert has puzzled over these lines, he continued. Read for yourself. I read aloud slowly. When the you and star combine, draw it twenty cubics line. Wait until the saintly lips shall the belfry spire eclipse. Cubits ate across the first. There shall lie the tomb accursed. And you have never succeeded in solving this, I continued. We have often tried, but never would success. The legend runs that the passage goes into the church art, and has a connection with one of the old vaults. But I know nothing more. Shall we join Rosalie in the drawing-room? May I copy this old rhyme, first? I asked. My host looked at me curiously. Then he nodded. I took a memorandum book from my pocket and scribbled down the words. Mr. Sherwood then locked up the book in its accustomed place, and we left the subject of the secret passage and the ghost, to enjoy the rest of the evening in a more everyday manner. The next morning Christmas Eve was damp and chill, for a thaw had set in during the night. Miss Sherwood asked a frayer and me to help her with the church decorations, and we spent a busy morning in the very old Norman church, just at the back of the vicarage. When we left it, on our way home to lunch, I could not help looking round the church art with interest. Where was the tomb accursed into which the secret passage ran? As I could not talk, however, on the subject with Miss Sherwood, I resolved, at least for the present, to banish it from my mind. A sense of strong depression was still hanging over me, and Madam Kaluci herself seemed to pervade the air. Yet, surely, no place could be farther from her accustomed haunts than this secluded rectory at the base of the Cumberland Hills. The day is brightening, said Rosalie, turning her eyes on my face, as we were entering the house. Suppose we go for a walk after lunch. If you like, we could go up great tour and pay a visit to Mother Harriet. Mother Harriet, I repeated in astonishment. Yes, the herb woman. But you do know about her? Your father spoke about a woman of the name last night? Oh, I know, replied Miss Sherwood hastily. But he alluded to the mother. The dreadful ghost which is said to haunt Rokesby. This is the daughter. When the mother died a long time ago, after committing a terrible murder, the daughter took her name and trade. She is a very curious person, and I should like you to see her. She is much looked up to by the neighbors, although they also fear her. She is said to have a panacea against every sort of illness. She knows the property of each herb that grows in the neighborhood, and has certainly performed marvelous cures. Does she deal in witchcraft and fortune-telling? I asked. A little of the latter, beyond doubt, replied the girl laughing. She shall tell your fortune this afternoon. What fun it will be! We must hurry with lunch, for the days are so short now. Soon after the midday meal we set off, taking the road for a mile or two, and then, turning sharply to the right, we began to ascend Grey Tor. Our path led through a wood of dark pine and larches, which closed the side of the summit of the hill. The air was still very chilly, and it struck damp as we entered the pine forest. Wreaths of white mists clung to the dripping branches of the trees. The earth was soft and yielding, with fallen pine-leaves and dead fern. Mother Harriet's hut is just beyond the wood, said Rosalie. You will see it as soon as we emerge. Ah, there it is! she cried. I looked upward and saw a hut made of stone and mud, which seemed to cling to the bare side of the mountain. We walked quickly up a winding path that grew narrower as we proceeded. Suddenly we emerged onto a little plateau on the mountain side. It was grass-covered and strewn with gray granite boulders. Here stood the rude hut. From the chimney some smoke was going straight up like a thin blue ribbon. As we approached close we saw that the door of the hut was shut. From the eaves under the roof were hanging several small bunches of dried herbs. I stepped forward and struck upon the door with my stick. It was immediately opened by a thin, middle-aged woman, with a singularly lined and withered face. I asked her if we might come in. She gave me a keen glance from out of her beady black eyes. Then, seeing Rosalie, her face brightened, she made a rapid motion with her hand, and then to my astonishment began to speak on her fingers. She can hear all right, but she is quite dumb. Has been so since she was a child, said the rector's daughter to me. She does not use the ordinary deaf and dumb language, but she taught me her peculiar signs long ago, and I often run up here to have a chat with her. Now look here, mother, continued the girl, going up close to the dame. I have brought two gentlemen to see you. We want you to tell us our fortunes. It is lucky to have the fortune told on Christmas Eve. Is it not? The herb woman nodded, then pointed inside the hut. She then spoke quickly on her fingers. Rosalie turned to us. We are in great luck, said the girl excitedly. A curious thing has happened. Mother Harriet has a visitor staying with her. No less a person than the greatest fortune teller in England, the Queen of the Gypsies. She is spending a couple of nights in the hut. Mother Harriet suggests that the Queen of the Gypsies shall tell us our fortunes. It will be quite magnificent. I wonder if the woman she alludes to is one of the Gypsies who arrived at Rokesby Station yesterday. I said, turning to Defraer. Very possibly, he answered, just raising his brows. Rosalie continued to speak in great excitement. You consent, don't you? She said to us both. Certainly, said Defraer with a smile. All right, mother, cried Miss Sherwood, turning once again to the herb woman. We will have our fortunes told, and your Gypsy friend shall tell them. Will she come out to us here, or shall we go into her? Again there was a quick pantomime of fingers and hands. Rosalie began to interpret. Mother Harriet says that she will speak to her first. She seems to stand in considerable awe of her. The herb woman vanished inside the hut. We continued to stand on the threshold. I looked at Defraer, who gave me an answering glance of amusement. Our position was ridiculous, and yet, ridiculous as it seemed, there was a curiously tense feeling at my heart, and my depression grew greater than ever. I felt myself to be standing on the brink of a great catastrophe and could not understand my own sensations. The herb woman returned, and Miss Sherwood eagerly interpreted. How queer, she exclaimed. The Gypsy will only see me alone. I am to meet her in the hut. Shall I go? I should advise you to have nothing to do with the matter, said Defraer. Oh, but I am curious. I should like to, she answered. Well, we will wait for you, but don't put faith in her silly words. The girl's face slightly paled. She entered the hut. We remained outside. Knowing her peculiar idiosyncrasy, I wonder if we did right to let her go in, I said to my friend. Why not? said Defraer. With such a disposition she ought not to be indulged in ridiculous superstitions, I said. She cannot take such nonsense, seriously, was his reply. He was leaning up against the lintel of the little hut, his arms folded, his eyes looking straight before him. I had never seen his face look keener or more matter of fact. A moment later Mr. Wood reappeared. There was a marked and quite terrible change in her face. It was absolutely white. She avoided our eyes, slipped a piece of silver into Mother Harriet's hand, and said quickly, Let us hurry home. It is turning very cold. Now what is it? said Defraer, as we began to descend the mountain. You look as if you have heard bad news. The Queen of the Gypsies was very mysterious, said the girl. What sort of person was she? I asked. I cannot tell you, Mr. Head. I saw very little of her. She was in a dark part of the hut and was in complete shadow. She took my hand and looked at it, and said, What I am not allowed to repeat. I am sorry you saw her, I answered. But surely you don't believe her. You are too much a girl of the latter end of the nineteenth century to place your faith in fortune-tellers. But that is just it, she answered. I am not a girl of the nineteenth century at all. And I do most fully believe in fortune-telling, and all kinds of superstitions. I wish we hadn't gone. What I have heard does affect me strangely, strangely. I wish we had not gone. We were now descending the hill. But as we walked Miss Sherwood kept glancing behind her, as if afraid of someone or something following us. Suddenly she stopped, turned round, and clutched my arm. Hark! Who is that? she whispered, pointing her hand towards a dark shadow beneath the trees. There is someone coming after us, I am certain there is. Don't you see a figure behind that clump? Who can it be? Listen! We waited, and stood silent for a moment. Gazing towards the spot which the girl had indicated, the sharp snap of a dead twig, followed by the rustling noise of rapidly retreating footsteps, sounded through the stillness. I felt Miss Sherwood's hand tremble on my arm. There certainly was someone there, said Defraer. But why should there not be? Why, indeed, I echoed. There is nothing to be frightened about, Miss Sherwood. It is doubtless one of Mother Harriet's bucolic patients. They never venture near her at this hour, she answered. They believe in her, but they are also a good deal afraid. No one ever goes to see Mother Harriet after dark. Let us get quickly home. I could see that she was much troubled, and thought it best to humor her. We hurried forward. Just as we entered the pine wood, I looked back, on the summit of the Little Ridge which contained Mother Harriet's hut I saw dimly through the mist a tall figure. The moment my eyes rested on it, it vanished. There was something in its height and gait which made my heart stand still. It resembled the tall gypsy whom I had noticed yesterday, and it also bore, God in Heaven Yes, an intangible and yet very real resemblance to Madame Colucci. Madame Colucci here? Impossible. My brain must be playing me a trick. I laughed at my own nervousness. Surely here, at least, we were safe from that woman's machinations. We reached home, and I mentioned my vague suspicion to Defraer. A wild idea has occurred to me, I said. What! he answered. It has flashed through my brain that there is just a remote possibility that the gypsy fortune teller in Mother Harriet's hut is Madame herself. He looked thoughtful for a moment. We can never tell where and how Madame may reappear, he said. But I think, in this case, head, you may banish the suspicion from your mind. Beyond doubt, the woman has left England long ago. The evening passed away. I noticed that Rosalie was silent and preoccupied, her nervousness was now quite apparent to everyone, and her father, who could not but remark it, was especially tender to her. End of Chapter 10, Part 1