"RAPTLY GAZING AT THE CHILD'S INNOCENT FACE, PAUL SOFTLY CROONS SOME CRADLE MELODY.""RAPTLY GAZING AT THE CHILD'S INNOCENT FACE, PAUL SOFTLY CROONS SOME CRADLE MELODY."
Charles raises his loaded pistol, taking aim. The finger pressing lightly responsive trigger seems paralyzed.
Raptly gazing at the child's innocent face, Paul softly croons some cradle melody. Oblivious to all hazards, unmoved by murderous craze prompting this night attempt upon lives of Northfield foes, Paul gently mutters a childhood refrain, thereby seeking to lull fancied wakefulness of this sleeping waif, of whose existence until then he had not known.
Still standing at the open door, with cocked pistol aimed at this crazed outlaw, Charles trembles violently. The sight and Paul's words unnerve his will.
The child moves upon her cot, talking disconnectedly.
"Please, Granny, don't cry! Bessie hanged on!"
Esther partially awakens. Vacantly gazing at the cot, she slumbers on.
Paul furtively looks about. Glaring at Esther, he moves toward the open door, stops, and then inspects his bloody knife. Muttering, Paul tiptoes back to Bessie's cot.
Again Charles raises his pistol, ready to fire.
Like robed priest upon ordained human sacrifice,Paul gazes at this dreaming four-year-old. Gently drawing the blade across his finger-tips, he sighs deeply. With low moan and gestured dissent, Paul again sheathes the knife. Moving away rapidly, by Charles, through adjoining room, he unerringly retraces his way to the hall window. Descending the pendent rope, Paul disappears in the darkness.
In explanation, Charles afterward said: "No one but me witnessed this scene. I followed Paul to the window and witnessed his descent. To have slain this outlaw would have been easy. Only to save life would I take this responsibility. Sight of any Northfield sleeper under Paul's uplifted knife would have nerved me to unerring shot. However, too much had been said about the necessity of Lanier exposures for reckless attack upon Paul. This worthless life is too valuable for inconsiderate squandering. Upon its precarious, oft-jeopardized tenure hang potent issues and kindred weal.
"I called one of the laborers upon the premises. Together we carried into a small building the lifeless form found at entrance to the mansion grounds.
"The dead man had been repeatedly stabbed. From his torn clothing and Paul's bloody, dirt-begrimed appearance, it was evident there had been a fierce struggle. This servant was surprised and assaulted while on guard.
"I did not awaken any of the family. It was not thought prudent to follow Paul. At such dark hour the craft of this madman would elude pursuit.
"Paul had entered the house to slay his enemies, and was restrained only by sight of Bessie. This surprise had diverted his murderous thoughts, thereby saving the lives of father and Esther."
Charles and his assistant remain on guard until morning. It is not much feared that Paul will return that night, but they take precautions.
Sir Donald rises early. He is greatly surprised at seeing Charles in the library. The night's experiences are graphically narrated. Sir Donald is profoundly moved. That London warning is mysterious. Murder of the faithful servant grieves him sorely. Paul's queer entrance evinces strange cunning. That this madman with bloody knife unhindered had entered Esther's room, and only by merest, unaccountable, crazed caprice was diverted from his murderous purpose, is too horrible for thought.
To allay his father's fears requires repeated assurances from Charles that both Esther and Bessie are safe. Sir Donald clings to his son's arm for support. Again looking proudly at Charles, he fondles this smiling youth, and excitedly hails him "Savior of Northfield!"
Charles restrains his father from calling Esther and Bessie.
"It will be better not to say anything about Paul's entering the house. It would worry sister."
Servants are called, and the dead body is moved to a vacant building some distance from the mansion grounds. After official inquiry into the cause of death, the deceased is buried.
Sir Donald feels conscious-smitten. To Charles he says: "This life has been sacrificed to promote Esther's welfare. In pursuance of questionable tactics and furtherance of doubtful ends one death just has occurred. That many others have not been chronicled is surprising.
"Looking at Esther and Bessie, gratitude for their preservation from Paul Lanier's murderous knife is blended with grief for the dead servant and an insistent sense of indirect, personal accounting.
"Selfish, exclusive Randolph tactics always have failed. That our beloved Esther has not fallen a victim to her father's deliberate precautions resulted mainly from accidental finding of a juvenile human estray, without known guardian or antecedents. Even that mysterious warning was far more availing for fireside defense than my fatherly solicitude and protecting care. Nothing but a strange, crazed diversion restrainedthat blood-stained dagger. But for that, your unerring aim would have been too late.
"I am now resolved that this insane wretch no longer shall menace human life. Lanier exposures must abide safe public interests. It now seems criminally imbecile longer to permit this madman to jeopardize lives of so many. Even Paul Lanier's own existence demands his detention in a madhouse."
Sir Donald determines that on the following day he will insist upon Paul's arrest. Only formal official inquiry as to the death of the servant prevents him taking the first train for London. This disposed of, the trip is made upon the following day.
Going to detective headquarters, Sir Donald is admitted to the chief's room. This man of many shifts is but coldly courteous. He awaits Sir Donald's explanations without interruptions. The whole tragic affair is explained, but there is no responsive suggestion.
Sir Donald urges the necessity of Paul's arrest and detention.
The chief is strangely reticent.
Sir Donald looks at him inquiringly, then detects a sneering expression. Waiting for some response, he is silent for a few moments. Rising with dignity, Sir Donald moves toward the door. This unfeigned resentment convinces the chiefthat there is a mistake. Sir Donald Randolph has not been playing double. The indignant pathos of that honest face precludes dissembling. Hastening to apologize for his error, the chief informs Sir Donald that both Pierre and Paul Lanier are in custody.
"This morning the arrests were made, but without coöperation of our agency.
"Paul has been at Northfield. He haunted the shores of the lake. Our employe sent from London saw Paul lurking in the woods, and followed him to a steep ravine. Here Paul vanished. The spy waited, screened by some bushes, expecting to see him again. This watch was continued until daylight.
"Paul did not appear upon the following day. The employe returned to London and reported. About same hour the watcher assigned to duty in neighborhood of the Lanier room saw Paul go down the basement stairs. This was after four in the morning. Neither Lanier left the room that day or the following night.
"Charles did not report to the office, and we could not locate him anywhere in London. It was thought that Paul had been at Northfield, but attempted no violence, and that moved by some insane influence he had returned to London.
"Awaiting Northfield advices and Charles' appearance, the agency was dumfounded at newsthat both Laniers had been arrested. It occurred about eight o'clock this morning. We are not yet advised as to the causes for this unexpected move. The matter is being investigated.
"Because of Charles' disappearance without notice, and these unaccountable arrests, we believed that you were in league with other parties to bring about Lanier accounting for their many crimes.
"It was known that a veiled woman called upon Charles the night he left London. After the arrests it had been rumored that Charles left London for Northfield on the night of this mysterious call and did not return. This female stranger and a middle-aged man were often together, and shadowed the Laniers. Our agency employes kept close watch of that spy who witnessed Paul's Thames crazes, and from his alley window overlooked the basement entrance. He had been followed and repeatedly seen with this male companion. That both the man and woman boarded at the same hotel where Charles stopped had been discovered. This spy sometimes called there. Charles had said nothing about these circumstances, and, we suspected, did not care to confide in the agency.
"The manner of Lanier arrests strongly confirmed our suspicions that some independent procedurewas being pressed, with your knowledge and approval.
"I was indignant at such supposed double-dealing. Strenuous, untiring efforts for years have been made to unravel this Lanier web. The agency dealt frankly with you, and is entitled to like treatment. You always insisted on caution and against premature action. The trials and convictions of these villains for double murder of Alice Webster and Oswald Langdon were not to be hampered by any other criminal issue. Taking into consideration all of these facts, your sudden change of purpose and advocacy of Paul's immediate arrest seemed the climax of insincerity.
"Believing that you were cognizant of all that had been done and procured the arrests, your report of recent Northfield incidents still further nettled me. To advise immediate arrests already made at your instigation was insulting effrontery. This apparently hypocritical talk intensified my suspicions into positive conviction of your deceit. Now I am sure there is a mistake somewhere. All of us are victims to counter-purposes of mysterious allied agencies."
Sir Donald saw the force of these explanations. He excused all as natural to the circumstances.
Both discussed the arrests in many possible and probable bearings. It was concluded thatthese bore relation to those before made in Calcutta. They can only wait. The mystery will soon clear.
For a while at least there will be no danger from Paul's murderous mania. If these outlaws again are released, Sir Donald will procure Paul's detention as a madman. He will stay a few days in London, ready for any emergency.
Though Paul is in close confinement, securely ironed, Sir Donald feels uneasy for the safety of Esther and Bessie. He sends for them and Charles. They join him in London. All find accommodations at the hotel where Charles had stopped.
The family and Bessie are seated in the dining-room. Soon those interesting strangers slowly enter and take seats at a near table, not appearing to notice the Randolph group. The woman faces Sir Donald and Esther, but keeps her eyes cast down, coloring deeply. Her companion notes the gossiping shades, but appears unconcerned. It is evident that without looking at any person in particular, he critically surveys those staring in that direction.
Esther is pale and tremulous with excitement. Sir Donald's view has been riveted upon that same fascinating face; he longs for a look at those downcast eyes; the outlines and expression are familiar.
Fine, glossy, raven-black hair is combed in profusion over brow and temples, but to him the disguise is apparent. An upward glance reveals that her identity is suspected. Esther's concentrated, startled stare and Sir Donald's look of recognition cannot be misunderstood. Charles sees that there is some strange discovery pending. From Esther and Sir Donald he looks inquiringly to that other troubled, flushed face.
The object of such combined curiosity casts an appealing glance at her companion, then quickly rising, leaves the dining-room.
Waiting for a few moments, the man, slowly and with no appearance of concern, follows.
Sir Donald briefly hesitates, then abruptly quits the table. Stepping to the stairway, he sees the man ascending. Calling to him, Sir Donald craves an interview upon "very important business."
With show of hesitation and vexed impatience, the stranger answers, "Well?"
Sir Donald ascends, and begging pardon for his abrupt manners, says:
"If I am not mistaken, the young lady who just left the table in such distress is supposed to be dead."
The man looks blank.
"Years ago she was reported drowned in the Thames."
Sir Donald sees that he is right.
"Her name is Alice Webster."
Raising his hand appealingly, the stranger beckons Sir Donald to follow. They enter a room at the extreme rear of the building. It connects with one adjoining. This door is quickly closed. Offering Sir Donald a seat at the farther side, the stranger asks him to speak in low tones.
Comprehending that the woman is in the other room and that her companion desires her not to hear their talk, Sir Donald does as requested.
"I am overjoyed that Alice is alive."
"Why?" is the brief response.
Sir Donald hesitates; then cautiously replies:
"For many reasons."
Realizing that this man is craftily fencing against some hazard, Sir Donald will await more definite disclosures.
The stranger perceives this. He must confide in Sir Donald, and thereby secure his aid.
"Suppose it should prove that you are right, what then?"
"We all would be too happy," is the guarded reply.
"Would you and your family keep such knowledge secret until we consented to its publicity?"
Here Sir Donald judiciously temporizes.
"No light consideration would prompt any ofus to oppose your wishes. However, to save an innocent person from suspicion of murder or to promote the happiness of some loved one, I would tell all."
The stranger here looks puzzled.
"I cannot grasp your meaning. Who is suspected of murder? Whose happiness could be promoted by such disclosures?"
Sir Donald is now sure that this man knows nothing of the facts prompting these reservations.
"Alice Webster and Oswald Langdon are supposed to be dead. Alice is alive and now in the adjoining room. Paul Lanier committed the assault. Pierre Lanier has defrauded Alice out of a large estate. She is alive and interested in recovery of the property. I would do all in my power to aid her. Against any breaches of confidence I decline to make pledges. The time and money I have spent to right her wrongs show my sincerity. What assurances should you require that I will not betray this poor, long-suffering girl?"
The stranger seems affected by Sir Donald's positive speech and honest look. He is silent for a few moments, then rises and tells Sir Donald that what has been said will be considered.
"I doubt not we can arrive at some friendly understanding. If desired I will meet you herethis evening at eight. It will not be necessary to suggest that nothing be said about our conversation."
Sir Donald promises to call at the appointed hour.
Esther and Charles were in her room. Neither felt further table interest after this morning's surprise. Esther had told her convictions to Charles, and he was much elated. By turns she looked scared and joyous. With much impatience both awaited their father's return.
His report excites them still more. The time between morning and that evening appointment seems very long.
It is now sure that in some mysterious way Alice Webster escaped death at the hands of Paul Lanier. This simplifies all. Oswald Langdon needs no longer wander. That heavy load of fatherly care is about to lift forever. Esther's troubles will vanish. Storm-clouds will cease to lower over the Randolph fireside.
Only fear that through some fateful perversity he might lose the opportunity of seeing Alice and of clearing up this vexing affair nerved Sir Donald to such abrupt manners. This was an emergency in which decorum would be imbecile. What if these now escape? Possibly this cautious, far-seeing man may advise Alice to denyher identity or to remain in seclusion. There may be good reasons why the girl should seek to avoid scandal.
Sir Donald will take every precaution to prevent their escape. He suggests these thoughts to Charles, and they are on guard. Both watch outside entrances to the hotel.
Neither the girl nor man appears at either meal. This further arouses suspicion. Just after dark a man and woman pass out of the side hall door. Charles follows them. The two move rapidly down the street. Charles crosses to the opposite side and keeps them in view. For some distance this line of action is pursued. They enter a passing cab, and Charles returns.
This move is bewildering. Sir Donald is now aroused. He will keep this appointment, and if the stranger fail to appear, take decisive steps. He has seen Alice Webster, and would swear to her identity. This pair shall be traced, and the facts be given publicity. He will write to Oswald Langdon that Alice is surely alive. He sends Charles to detective offices with advices for the shadowing of these runaways.
He makes the appointed call. The other is there, receiving him courteously. His presence mystifies Sir Donald. It is impossible that this man could have gone out and returned.
The stranger opens with the remark:
"I talked the matter over with the girl, and she is undecided."
Sir Donald responds, "About what?"
"She does not understand what you mean by your references to some one who may be suspected of murder and to some loved one whose happiness might be promoted by disclosures."
Sir Donald replies:
"These are matters I will not discuss further."
The man irritably responds:
"Then we decline to talk any more upon the subject. You are welcome to your delusion."
Here Sir Donald grows indignant.
"Alice Webster is alive and subject to your control. Through your advice she has left this house, intending to evade discovery. You are both watched. I know facts which would overjoy Alice. I may not confide them to either until her identity is confessed and her conduct explained. I have no desire to reveal a single fact about her escape from the Thames or her strange concealment, until she can be protected. I doubt not Alice feels regrets for the past. It is positively known that she had nothing to do with the assault upon Oswald Langdon. An eye-witness to this crime saw Alice and Oswald both fall into the river. Fully confide in me, and I will aid you in recovery of the big estate taken from Alice by Pierre Lanier. Do thiswithout explicit pledges of any kind. I make no promises."
The stranger hesitates.
"If we are to tell you all, why do you refuse us your confidence?"
Sir Donald replies:
"When the existence of Alice Webster is clearly proven, and her strange disappearance accounted for, I will explain what you ask."
There is a long pause. The stranger looks into Sir Donald's face fixedly, then grasping his hand, says:
"I will trust you implicitly. We will now find my niece."
The two pass out, down the stairs, and upon the street. The stranger beckons to a cabman. In about half an hour they stop in front of an inn. Giving the driver instructions, the stranger leads the way to a door, which he unlocks. Both enter, and Sir Donald is left with assurance that the man soon will return.
In about fifteen minutes Alice Webster appears, followed by this male enigma. She looks scared and greatly confused.
Sir Donald advances, and with courtesy says:
"I am happy to see you, Alice!"
The girl stammers and sinks back on the sofa. She soon becomes calmer, and presents her uncle, Thomas Webster.
After a few remarks, the uncle leaves Sir Donald and Alice alone.
Seeing Alice's embarrassment, Sir Donald kindly says:
"I have not the least criticism of your conduct, Alice. Tell me all, and I will be your friend. It has turned out gloriously!"
Thus encouraged, the girl begins her strange recital.
How years before, with Oswald Langdon, she took the night row on the Thames, strolled along the river-bank, and chatted at the rustic seat, is brokenly described. The assault and fall of both into swollen stream are shudderingly explained. Alice pauses.
"Must I tell the rest?"
Sir Donald speaks assuringly.
They hear suppressed murmurs at outside entrance to the hallway. Thomas Webster goes to the door. Three men are in sight. One inquires for Sir Donald Randolph.
"It is important that we see him at once."
Alice still pauses.
Hurriedly her uncle enters. He advises Sir Donald to see these callers without delay.
Going to the hall door, Sir Donald recognizes Charles, who explains their unceremonious call.
"I went as directed to the detective office and reported. After some little time employes whohad shadowed that Thames spy arrived. These expressed the opinion that the couple who left the hotel were the girl and this same mysterious watcher, and that they went directly to this inn. The strange spy often had gone there, presumably to report. These two employes and I took a cab to the hotel where we have stopped. We there learned that you and a middle-aged man a short time before entered a cab and were driven away. Then we believed that the two had gone to this inn. To circumvent any escape or trick upon you, I then insisted on finding you without delay. We have just arrived and will do as you think advisable."
Sir Donald stepped back into the room and briefly explained to Thomas Webster what had occurred. They decided it would be better not to tarry longer. On the next day Alice could finish her story. These detective employes need not further trouble themselves in this matter. Scandal easily could be avoided. The next day, at three o'clock, Alice and her uncle would meet Sir Donald at his hotel, and she would tell all. Sir Donald would return with Charles and the detectives.
Bidding the two good-night, Sir Donald, Charles, and the detectives return at once to the hotel. Cautioning these sleuths still to shadowthis pair and report, Sir Donald and Charles join Esther, who, with the sleeping Bessie in her arms, has been awaiting their return.
These talk over the probable facts of this strange romance, and agree that whatever may have been her conduct, they will befriend Alice. The poor girl doubtless suffered greatly. What sorrowful memories were suggested by that sad face! All soon will be cleared. Oswald Langdon now may return without shame. Esther's eyes are tearfully luminous; Charles looks proudly expectant; over Sir Donald's fascinating features settles a gravely wistful smile.
Triple content concentrates in mute benediction upon curly head of baby tramp, dreaming unspeakable mysteries upon the arm of Esther.
The appointed meeting takes place. Alice still is nervous.
Though her uncle had spoken most assuringly, she shrinks from the ordeal. Only through repeated assurances, much prompting, and many questions upon the part of Sir Donald is the strange story told.
"At the rustic seat on the river-bank, Oswald and I talked over my troubles. I was overcome at thoughts of the dark outlook. Oswald tried to comfort me. Perhaps our conduct was indiscreet, but I alone am to blame."
Here Sir Donald's curiosity is quickened, but he refrains from question or comment.
Hurriedly passing over this point, Alice tells of having suddenly risen and stepped with suicidal intent toward the bank. "There was nothing any longer in life for me. Oswald must have perceived my impulse, as he sprang between me and the stream.
"Using some harsh language about Paul Lanier, I begged Oswald not to forsake me.Just then a man came from behind a bush. Before time to warn Oswald, a blade gleamed in the moonlight. At almost the same moment I was stunned by a blow on the head, and lost all consciousness.
"After an indefinite period I felt confused sensations, and awoke as from a horrible dream. Some time elapsed before surroundings could be discerned. Objects seemed evasive and bewilderingly unreal. The low ceiling swayed up and down, back and forth. The candle glowed and flickered, moving around, followed by table and chairs. Such a dreadful sensation of helpless bewilderment! There were harsh janglings of unnatural voices and glitter of fiendish eyes.
"When again aroused, I felt a dull, painful stupor. Then objects assumed distorted shapes, with wildly variegated tints, shrouded by mysterious hazes.
"How long this continued I can only surmise. All my ideas were confused. It seemed an age before any rational sense was felt. During these terrible hours there was frequent recurrence of those harsh, grating accents and repellent looks from sinister faces. Of these experiences I can give no clearer account. The brain-pressure caused by the temple blow produced queer sensations and frightful fancies."
Sir Donald listened with patient sympathy tothese harrowing details. Such might be irresponsive, but doubtless had been fearfully real to Alice.
Thought of that terrible chapter in her life's history so affects Alice as to cause almost hysterical emotion.
"At length I felt a sense of quiet rest and relief. It seemed as though we were again at Northfield. The air was musical with songs of birds. Oswald and Esther were with me; Oswald was reading. A shadow falls athwart the flower-fringed walk! I look up, and there stands Paul Lanier, as at his other Northfield call, after return from India!
"While looking at him with feelings of repulsion, the apparition changes. We are on the lake, and I am remonstrating with Paul, who pays no heed to my words. I speak more plainly and grasp his arm! Paul rises and pushes me overboard!
"I am on the shore with Oswald, you and Esther bending over me.
"Oswald and I are at the rustic seat, standing on the river-bank. Paul Lanier steps from behind a bush, takes a quick step, and strikes me into the water!
"The dream was so real that I awoke with a scream.
"Now fully aroused, I see a dark form disappearfrom the low, open door of the cabin. The sun is shining. I look around the poorly furnished room. I am lying on a cot. There is but one window. How came I here?
"Trying to sit up, I am too weak, and the effort tires me. After several minutes a scared, black face peers through the smoke-bedimmed glass.
"Slowly this colored woman enters the room. Her face relaxes into a broadened grin. Showing two full sets of teeth, she stares as if curious what to say.
"'Law! chile, yo' scare Sarah Angeline mos' to def!'
"I put out my hand.
"The wench soothingly says:
"'Don' be 'fraid of Sarah Angeline; she won't hurt yo', honey!'
"I motioned the old woman to be seated.
"With much show of sympathy old Sarah sat down by the cot.
"I now asked where we were and how I came there.
"She looked troubled, and replied:
"''Deed, chile, I'se 'fraid to tell yo'! Dey mought hurt yo', honey, an' beat po' ole Sarah Angeline moughty considerable!'
"The sound of coarse voices is heard coming around the cabin.
"Much excited, old Sarah raises her hand, whispering:
"'Shut yo' eyes an' don' say nuffin'!'
"There are four in the party now entering. From their voices I detect that two are men and the others women. They pass into the other room. I hear their talk, but cannot catch its drift.
"I was too weak for strong purpose, and with presentiment of harm, had no strength for resistance. I must have dozed. Old Sarah is now arranging some things upon a small table at head of the cot. To my look she soothingly says:
"'Yo' needn't be 'larmed; dey's all gone 'way. Yo' bettah pahtuk of some refreshments now. Dis tea an' toast moughty good for de s'port of yo' 'feebled system.'
"After partaking of the food, I felt tired and dizzy, and closing my eyes, appeared to sleep. The old negress moved around the room, muttering to herself. She gently placed her hand upon my brow, then said:
"'Po' sick chile! Yo' white face 'minds me of my own Mandy Car'line just 'fo' she died!'
"Softly stroking back my hair over this bruised temple, old Sarah says:
"'Suah some one struck yo' powerful hard! P'raps dis yere purty chile 'fused his offah an' he fro' her in the ribbah.'
"PO' SICK CHILE! YO' WHITE FACE 'MINDS ME OF MY OWN MANDY CAR'LINE JUST 'FO' SHE DIED!""PO' SICK CHILE! YO' WHITE FACE 'MINDS ME OF MY OWN MANDY CAR'LINE JUST 'FO' SHE DIED!"
"In semi-conscious stupor and with faint sense of the meaning of this talk, I dozed on.
"'Dey would fo'sake yo', honey, and leave po' old Sarah Angeline, 'less I leaves yo' heah to die all 'lone by yo'self in the dark.'
"I looked up into the black face bending over my cot.
"'Good Lawd, chile, doan' yo' look that way at po' old Sarah Angeline! Bress yo' heart, chile, I'se nevah gwine to fo'sake dis yere white baby in her powerful trials and deep 'flictions—'deed I won' now, honey!'
"Then, fully conscious, I again asked where we were and how it all happened. My recollections of that terrible night on the Thames seemed shrouded with a bewildering haze.
"The old black woman hesitated, shaking her head. Old Sarah for a while was silent, and then yielded:
"'Yo' po' sick chile, yo' knows Sarah Angeline can't 'fuse yo' nuffin' when yo' mo' and mo' 'zembles my Mandy Car'line ebery bressed minit, lookin' so pleadin' in her ole black mudder's eyes just 'fo' she died!'
"After many solemn warnings, 'nevah to say nuffin' to nobody, nevah, nevah!' the old negress told all she knew about how I came to be at this den in a London suburb.
"There had been a robbery in the city. Suspicionfell on two rough characters. These, with their girl companions, for several months had occupied this same two-room cabin.
"Old Sarah had been installed as housekeeper for the four, and received quite good pay. She knew they were bad characters, but needed the money for her children and invalid husband, living in the same neighborhood.
"The four had been up the river, and were returning downstream. They saw two persons sitting near the bank. Fearing that these were spies upon their track, the men permitted the boat to drift past this point. Both forms on the shore seemed to rise and stand. The four were now past, a few rods downstream. They moved very slowly, all cautiously looking at the two on the shore. Just then a third form was visible. All saw a knife glisten in the moonlight, followed by a blow and thrust. The two fell into the river, sinking out of sight.
"The men quickly rowed toward the point of the stream where the bodies sank. Several rods down something gripped one of the oars. A face appeared above the water. The hands held that oar, until the girl was drawn into the boat. Nothing was seen of the other who had fallen into the stream.
"Now convinced that these were not spies, the four rowed up and down past this point, but seeingno signs, concluded to abandon the search. With the girl lying unconscious in bottom of the boat, rowing downstream for some distance, they landed on the opposite side of the river. Efforts to revive her were successful, but she relapsed again into an unconscious state.
"The two men advised leaving her there, and that no one say anything about what they had seen or done. They were suspected of this robbery. This incident would make them notorious. The girl would die, anyhow.
"This plan was about to be adopted when voices were heard down the stream. The men, followed by the girls, rapidly bore me to an old, abandoned shed, about one hundred rods from shore. Here all remained until about three o'clock the next morning. As I was still alive, they finally concluded it would be less dangerous to take me to their cabin. Both girls favored this plan. The men were afraid to follow their own impulses, depending upon secrecy of these fickle-minded females. The four, with their load, reached the cabin just before daylight. Old Sarah let them in, and was cautioned to say nothing, under penalty of sure death.
"I had remained here over a week, in charge of this kind-hearted old negress, being nearly all this time in a seemingly comatose state, with only brief spells of semi-consciousness. No physicianhad been called, as these bad characters wished to avoid notoriety. London papers had referred to the deaths by drowning or murder of Oswald Langdon and Alice Webster. These two highwaymen dreaded any mention of their names in such connection. Old Sarah kept their secret, for fear of losing her position and of personal violence.
"At times my chances of recovery had been doubtful. I had been delirious, but most of the time lay in a stupor. What to do with me the four could not devise. All dreaded an invasion by the police. They had discussed the proposition to leave me in the cabin, the four quitting London for some distant city, the men going first singly, the two girls following later. Still they feared that old Sarah would inform the police, as she had overheard this talk, and was much distressed about losing her job. It then was proposed that the five take some other house, and abandon me to my fate.
"To this old Sarah vigorously objected, and said:
"'I'se nevah gwine to fo'sake dat po' sick white baby who 'minds me so powerful much of my own little Mandy Car'line just 'fo' she j'ined de angel band!'
"This settled that proposal.
"Revolving in their minds many schemes todispose of me and of the colored woman, the two robbers could not think of any safe plan. Too, they feared that these girls might confess. They threatened and flattered the negress, who said nothing in reply.
"The night before had been the worst. The four, drinking heavily, lost their discretion. A loud quarrel ensued. One of the drunken brutes staggered into the room where we were lying asleep. He stood there, glaring first at one, then at the other. His actions aroused old Sarah, who, springing up and grasping a large bottle standing on the shelf, struck the besotted wretch such hard blow in the face that he fell heavily upon the cabin floor. This created a commotion, causing a noisy row.
"Old Sarah never flinched, but threatened to murder the first one who touched 'dat po' sick, unfortunate chile, who has no kind mudder to gib her good device, an' 'zembles my own little angel baby, Mandy Car'line!'
"The girls were not so far gone as to have no fear of results. They succeeded in getting these drunken villains into the other room. The excited wench slammed the door and bolted it.
"Through all this fuss I had not shown any signs of life, except heavy breathing and slight moaning. The faithful old colored woman kept watch until morning.
"The four breakfasted late, and afterward went out singly.
"Having finished her morning work, old Sarah returned to watch at the cot. The poor old servant was feeling a sense of superstitious dread. She had just turned away her face when I made that awful scream."
In nervous, dramatic manner Alice related these experiences, with old Sarah's account of what had happened. Memories of this eventful period had shadowed after days and given somber hues to many dreams.
At breaks in the narrative Sir Donald made tactful suggestions, courteously prompting its continuation. As to those parts which Alice, through evident maidenly reserve, passed over hurriedly, he did not urge more explicit recital. However, his suggestions evinced thorough recollection of all that had been said and a tenacious hold on the natural drift of the story.
Aided by Sir Donald's discreet suggestions, promptings, and questioning, Alice continued her strange romance.
"For several days nothing of much account occurred at that old cabin. I suffered from peculiar pains in the head and confused sensations, sleeping much, but having frightful dreams. During waking hours my memory seemed almost blank, with only bewildering hints of events.Sleep was dreaded, as dreams again presented the awful past. Time, place, and incidents were grossly distorted. Yet each day I grew stronger.
"Slowly the brain-pressure relaxed. Dreams grew less fantastic. I had more distinct memories. With returning strength and clearer understanding of my condition came thoughts of past misfortunes. My then helpless position was appalling. That for an indefinite period I must be dependent upon the bounties of those depraved creatures who had rescued me from the Thames current seemed horrible. The presence of these I continually loathed and feared. It appeared fate's cruel decree that I should escape Paul Lanier's murderous designs but to suffer this prolonged, indefinite, loathsome danger. Yet such distress served to check the despondent outlook of future years. I became anxious for some immediate rescue.
"Old Sarah was my only hope, but could not devise any plan to help me. I studied that black, sympathetic face for inspiration. It seemed that my mute appeals greatly pained her, but she could give only high-sounding encouragement, while solemnly pledging everlasting devotion to one who 'mo' and mo' 'zembles my own little bressed baby, Mandy Car'line just 'fo' she died!'
"After weeks of suspense, only the girlsreturned from night visits to London scenes. They looked much depressed. Old Sarah was taken into their confidence, and appeared greatly troubled. The next day both girls moved, taking only articles of clothing, saying nothing as to where they were going.
"The old servant seemed much affected, but soon grew more cheerful. She told me that these men had been arrested, charged with the robbery. The girls suspected the police would come that day to search the cabin for stolen stuff. They would go away, and old Sarah must keep quiet. She was to claim as her own everything in the cabin. The four had been only boarders, about whom she was to know nothing. As the price of her secrecy she could keep everything in the rooms. There were sufficient supplies for at least a month.
"All this and much more old Sarah told me in a hysterical burst of confidence. When entirely recovered, I could find my friends, and she would go home to her family.
"To me this unexpected turn was a great relief, and my simple-hearted old benefactress grew quite hopeful.
"The police raid did not occur. None of the four ever came back. What became of these criminal suspects I never heard.
"After a few weeks I was able to walk aboutthe cabin. Determined soon as possible to cease dependence upon this poor old servant who so generously had befriended me in such need, I longed for speedy recovery. Old Sarah seemed to dread the hour when her 'new baby chile' would go away.
"The colored woman indulged in much grief at our parting, bewailing it as a fresh bereavement. She explained that Mandy Caroline was her oldest child, and died at the age of twenty-four. Though having many other children, it seemed to her that I was a heaven-sent substitute for this lost daughter.
"Sarah and her husband were slaves on a Georgia plantation before the close of the American Civil War. They came to London as servants in the family of an Englishman who had been traveling through the Southern States. They afterward married in London.
"The colored woman would not listen to any talk of future repayment, but so pressed upon me the acceptance of a few small coins that I took them.
"I had intended to go home and explain all, but felt much fear after starting. How could my strange disappearance and long stay be explained? What would be thought of my staying in this disreputable den with criminals and social outcasts? To whom could appeal be madefor proof, but to this poor, old wench, who had been in the employment of the four, two of whom are charged with highway robbery? Would not my friends and acquaintances feel averse to further association with such a person? They might suspect that both Oswald and I had practiced deceit in our disappearances.
"These thoughts overwhelmed me with an unbearable burden of doubt and dread. I became confused and bewildered. My sense of London locations grew hazy.
"Calling to a passing 'coster,' I begged him to take me to some respectable inn.
"He objected, but upon learning that I was sick and had lost my way, consented.
"In about an hour he stopped at a cozy little house. Helping me to alight, he told me that lodging could be obtained there at reasonable rates. He generously declined to accept payment for the ride.
"I staggered into the hallway and sat down in a fainting condition upon one of the stair steps. Still dizzy, with severe pains in the head and sensations of nausea, I was shown a room.
"The proprietor gazed at me with surprise. Seeing my weakness, he left.
"Soon after, a servant called, but hearing that it was only a slight attack, requiring quiet rest, disappeared.
"After several hours, I awoke with a start. The proprietor's wife, portly and sympathetic, stood staring in at the half-open door. She eagerly accepted my stammering invitation to come in and be seated. Seeing that I was weak and embarrassed, she refrained from questions as to my name or connections. I gave prompt assurances that my indisposition was not serious.
"Soon a tempting meal was served. Following more sympathetic suggestions, the kind-hearted lady withdrew.
"Left alone, I, late into the night, thought over my perplexing situation, but could not devise any plan of action. The only settled conviction reached was not then to meet any friends or acquaintances, but to await the clearing of the dark clouds.
"In this extremity came thoughts of past rescues. How strange my escapes from lake and river! Had not Paul Lanier's cruel malice been thwarted? That black benefactress surely had been an angel of deliverance from loathsome perils in London suburb. Perhaps I yet would live to outwit the crafty Laniers. Surely there would be a way out of these helpless, bewildering mazes.
"For some time I remained at this inn, neither going upon the street nor making inquiry. The landlady restrained all her curiosity as to mypast life and present distress. With motherly kindness she shielded me from all questioning. I decided to leave London for some obscure English town, and there seek employment. What to do was very indefinite, but there must be something done.
"As I barely had enough money to pay my bill, how to reach such a place was an important problem. In my weak state this obstacle grew more and more difficult. In desperation I was about to quit the inn penniless, and look for work. I had paid and was ready to start out on this hard search.
"From a whispered talk with her husband the landlady returned, and in a motherly way, placing one arm around me, slipped several small coins into my hand. I was hesitating, when a carriage stopped in front of the open door where we were standing.
"Quickly stepping down, a well-dressed gentleman gave low-spoken directions to the driver and entered the inn. With apparently unconcerned look he surveyed those present, but was visibly interested as I turned my face.
"I tarried, between curiosity and dread of identification, but became more confused, and started for the outside door. Bidding the surprised landlady a hurried good-by, I passed out and down the street. Having gone three blocksand paused at a corner, uncertain which way or where to go, looking back I saw the same carriage which a short time before stopped at the inn rapidly approaching.
"I started on, and had gone only a few rods when the stranger passed. He turned around, stared, and the carriage stopped.
"The man stepped out, and coming up to me, in low, hurried tones said:
"'Excuse my rudeness! You are Alice Webster! Don't you know your Uncle Tom?'
"Between recognition and shame at my strange conduct I stammered some confused greeting.
"Seeming to notice this painful embarrassment, uncle gently said:
"'Do not worry, Alice. Your Uncle Tom is all right! Get into the carriage, and we will go anywhere you say! You have something to tell me, but take lots of time to tell it.'
"Seeing my hesitation, he carelessly says:
"'I will not take you home now, little girl.'
"My fears allayed, I accepted the invitation. We took a long drive, making many turns, uncle talking about the scenery, weather, and other subjects, but never hinting at any explanation of my conduct. Once I started to speak of what weighed upon my mind, but was silenced by:
"'After a while, little girl; no hurry about that.'
"The day was warm. Giving orders to stop at a park, Uncle Thomas told me that we would take a stroll and have a confidential chat. When seated under a tree in a secluded part of the grounds, he says:
"'Now, Alice, tell Uncle Tom all your troubles. Make it just as bad as possible. I like to hear thrilling stories from real life.'
"Set at ease by this pleasant, insinuating bantering, I told all. When speaking of my final determination neither to go home nor to meet any old acquaintances, I hesitated to assign reasons for such course.
"Uncle seemed to understand this, and at once said:
"'No, you must not go home yet. We have much important work to do, and must soon quit London. We would leave to-day but for a little matter here.'
"We then decided to stop at a secluded hotel, where identification would be doubtful, and when Uncle Thomas finished that 'little matter' would take a trip.
"During several days I saw little of Uncle Thomas. He did not stay at the hotel, but made brief daily visits. One evening he called, and said:
"'How would my little girl like a sea voyage?'
"I gleefully replied:
"'That would be splendid!'
"'Well, be ready to-morrow morning at seven. I will be here then.'
"With these words he left.
"Upon the next day Uncle Thomas appeared. Taking out of a traveling-bag a pretty gown, neat jacket, and stylish hat, he told me to put these on, comb my hair low over the temples, and wear a veil, which was then produced.
"I made the change, and the simple disguise was quite effective.
"Uncle Thomas looked droll in old-fashioned long-tailed coat, ample trousers, sorrel whiskers, and silk tile.
"We took a closed carriage for the train, and in short time were on our way to Southampton, where soon after passage was procured on an ocean steamer for Bombay. Uncle Thomas had said nothing about his plans; I was ready to go anywhere away from London, and would trust my uncle's judgment implicitly.
"He had suggested that I speak to no one on the train, at the wharf, or aboard ship. This disguise should be kept up during the journey.
"In the privacy of my cabin Uncle Thomas explained that he wished our identity unknown, as persons were on the vessel whom it was necessaryfor him to 'shadow.' To watch the movements of these was his main reason for sailing so suddenly. Keeping track of them had been his work for some time in London. Learning their intention to sail from Southampton on this steamer, he had decided to take the trip. These had come from London on the same train. They were booked for Calcutta, but would land at Bombay.
"Uncle Thomas was 'shadowing' two noted criminals. I must not be inquisitive, but Uncle Tom would tell all about it at the proper time. If on the voyage he appeared to neglect me, it would be to watch and checkmate these cunning rascals. If any one acted strangely or seemed to watch me, I was to appear unconcerned. He would take charge of the clothes which I had worn at and since the Thames assault until our departure from the London hotel.
"Much impressed by uncle's precautions, I strictly observed them during the whole voyage, never entered the dining-room, and rarely went on deck. Meals were served in my cabin.
"Uncle Thomas made many brief calls, speaking cheerily, but never referring to his interesting watch. The few times I saw him on deck he seemed not to know me.
"Only once during the whole trip did it appear to me that Uncle Thomas was alert.
"A slim, dudish man, with close-cut, coal-black beard and heavy mustache, carelessly passed by, but seemed to give some signal, simply a slight backward turn of the wrist. Uncle turned abruptly and went below.
"After a tedious voyage, we landed at Bombay.
"Uncle Thomas had said that if possible he would secure private rooms somewhere in the city.
"From the landing this same dudish-looking man and two others went away together. Then uncle and I left, and after some time found three nicely furnished rooms in a private house, which we occupied during our stay in Bombay."
At this point in the narrative Sir Donald grows eager, and looks at the striking, flushed face of this beautiful girl with an admiring, querulous stare. New light is dawning upon some reported occurrences in that far Indian seaport. But it is apparent that Alice has grown weary with the strain of recital.
Sir Donald suggests deferring further explanations for half an hour while he attends to some small errands. Seeing Esther and Charles, he tells them not to stay in on his account.
Promptly at the appointed time Sir Donald is back for the story's continuance.
"In about a week after arrival at Bombay Uncle Thomas said:
"'I have kept some things secret for fear of worrying you at a time when you required rest and quiet. The sea voyage has done you much good, and you are now strong enough to help me a little in my work. While traveling through different countries at times I have been engaged in detective employment. The job now on hand staggers me. I am trailing two of the most adroit villains that ever committed crime. Embezzlement, perjury, conspiracy, attempts to kill and murder are some of the offenses these have committed. Perhaps you have heard their names? Pierre and Paul Lanier.'
"I gave a scream.
"'Do not be alarmed, little girl! Uncle Tom will take good care of you.'
"Uncle Thomas had arrived in London a few days after the report of Thames drownings was published. Careful inquiry into all the circumstances made it clear to him that the Laniers killed both Oswald Langdon and me. Aided by an assistant, he went to work on the case.
"He and this man shadowed both Laniers and William Dodge at London. Through this assistant was learned that a young woman, wounded nigh unto death, had been rescued from the river by four disreputable characters, and that for weeks she lodged in an old cabin, and only a few days before left for her home in the city.
"These facts had been related by an old colored woman who nursed the girl back to life and shielded her from indignities attempted by one of these brutes.
"Feeling strong assurance that this girl might be his niece, he made diligent search, going to numerous hotels and other places, but never stating his purpose nor giving any hint of this settled conviction.
"On the morning of my leaving the inn he learned that a costermonger had found a young woman, sick and bewildered, who, having lost her way, was taken by him to a public-house. He learned the man's name and home. Finding him, the desired information was given. Rapidly driving to the inn, he entered, and saw my embarrassment. After my hurried departure he made some careless inquiry about an object of assumed interest, soon left, and found me trying to evade identification by running away from my own Uncle Tom.
"He understood my reasons for not wishing to go home, and thought I acted wisely. Uncle Thomas said:
"'Alice, if you will be brave and help me, we will yet outwit those villainous Laniers.
"'It will be hard for you at times, and most disgusting, but the aim justifies the means. The big estate stolen from your father by Pierre Lanieryet may be recovered, and perhaps both Laniers be brought to strict account for the murder of Oswald Langdon. I will devote time and money to this purpose, and need your help.'
"To this generous appeal I could not be indifferent. While dreading the thought of having anything to do with these cruel foes, refusal would be base ingratitude. In fear I promised, but then had no idea of such long, terrible mixing in future 'shadowings.' The fearful part I was to play could not then have been clear to uncle's mind, but grew out of the situation's intensely dramatic promptings and tragic power.
"Through this same assistant who had helped keep watch of the Laniers, Uncle Thomas was advised as to their conduct since arrival at Bombay. This man had come from London and Southampton with them. He lodged at the same hotel.
"Paul freely spent money with a number of young fellows, who gave him information about the wealthier people of the city.
"Pierre and Paul were reported as very rich. They were seeking acquaintance with wealthy Bombay families. Both had been invited to a social function at the home of a prominent man.
"Uncle Thomas said:
"'Alice, the money Paul is spending rightfullybelongs to you. This red-handed wretch will try to marry some aristocratic heiress. How fine to snare him into a trap!'
"Then he suggested that with little difficulty I could assume an effectual disguise.
"'Your previous voice-culture will help out the ruse. The Laniers doubt not that you are lying in the Thames. Neither Lanier knows me. There may be a few people in Bombay who would recognize your Uncle Tom. I will avoid such, and as a precaution assume a new disguise. Through this assistant of mine I will acquire reputation of immense wealth. As Sir Charles Chesterton, a bachelor and multi-millionaire I will soon be an object of social interest. Much attention will be paid you as the niece and heir of such a rich uncle. You will be known as Agnes Randall. Thoroughly disguised and under these assumed names, we will entertain the Laniers. By playing well our parts, perhaps the whole Lanier conspiracy may be laid bare, these wretches be brought to strict account, and you recover your father's stolen estate.'
"Looking into my eyes, Uncle Thomas soothingly said:
"'Take plenty of time to think about it, little girl. Uncle Tom always will be within call, and never let you be harmed. Be brave, and it will come out all right. What proper avenging ofBrother William's death, your own wrongs, and of Oswald Langdon's murder!'
"With but faint hint of terrible after strain, nerved by these strong appeals, I entered into this fearful covenant.
"Soon after this conversation Sir Charles Chesterton and Agnes Randall received invitations to a ball given by a prominent Bombay resident. They there met Paul Lanier.
"Formally presented, Paul soon became very affable, paying marked attention to both niece and uncle. From the first, Paul appeared predisposed in favor of these new acquaintances.
"I was shocked, feeling a sense of fear mingled with utter aversion. The past so overwhelmed me as to render even common civilities loathsome, yet I endeavored to play the part assigned.
"Gayeties of the occasion helped to ease my emotional strain, but when all was over I felt much relieved.
"Uncle Thomas was greatly elated. He praised my acting, predicting success.
"That assistant had dropped suggestive hints concerning Chesterton wealth, and about a will bequeathing to favorite niece the bulk of a princely fortune.
"During the evening Uncle Thomas found opportunities for brief chats with Paul, and had been very pleasant.
"Paul appeared favorably impressed with Uncle Thomas. He hardly had deigned to notice any one except Agnes Randall and Sir Charles Chesterton.
"After this ball I often felt uneasy and presentiments of dread. In dreams appeared vivid reproductions of past scenes.
"Uncle Thomas startled me with the announcement that he had invited Paul Lanier to dine at our apartments. We were to royally entertain Paul, but would be 'duly reserved, as befitted our wealthy and aristocratic tastes.'
"This affair passed off without hitch. Within two days Paul called.
"Uncle Thomas and I treated him with apparent consideration. When Paul was leaving, uncle said:
"'Call any time and often, Mr. Lanier.'
"Paul seemed greatly pleased with uncle's cordiality, and left smiling.
"Seeing how frightened I was, Uncle Thomas said:
"'Uncle Tom always will be eavesdropping when that lover calls.'
"My uncle had met Pierre Lanier. Shortly following Paul's call, Pierre received an invitation to dine with Sir Charles Chesterton. Uncle Thomas proved a most entertaining host, telling of many thrilling adventures in which he hadpersonal part. His recitals greatly interested Pierre.
"To me it seemed that uncle frequently had been mixed up in doubtful schemes, but always evaded detection. I began to doubt his morals, and finally concluded he had been a cruel, heartless trickster.
"Pierre seemed to note my pained embarrassment, and checked some vague hints at his own villainous past.
"I suffered much during Pierre's stay. Having thought Uncle Thomas the soul of honor, engaged in a high-principled crusade against crime, generously sacrificing time and means to punish guilt and to right the wrongs of the helpless, to hear him in low tones glibly telling of villainous performances, often furtively glancing at me as if fearing I might catch the drift of his talk, made me heartsick with growing mistrust and painful forebodings. Uncle's narratives had been so realistic that I began to dread Pierre's departure. My face must have expressed some of these feelings, for when Pierre left, Uncle Thomas looked me straight in the eyes and banteringly said:
"'What a villainous fellow Uncle Tom is, anyhow! I never knew before I was so bad! If that close-mouthed old wretch dines here often, my little girl will think him better than Uncle Tom!'
"I began to see uncle's crafty tactics, and must have looked at him in a questioning, half-apologetic way.
"Uncle Thomas responded with:
"'Oh, you little suspicious innocence! I was only pumping.'
"I felt a heavy load lift from my heart, with growing admiration for this wonderful uncle who could so dissemble. The thought that I, too, might act such part and lure the cruel, vindictive, infatuated Paul by consummate deceit now became fascinating.
"Uncle Thomas's cunning suggested great possibilities in clearing the Lanier conspiracy. Neither Pierre nor Paul suspected my identity. They then thought Alice Webster at the bottom of the Thames. All friends believed me dead. I could return to London only when past conduct was justified. Without this horrible affair fully cleared, there could be nothing in life for me. What pressing claims awaited my actions! Here only was opportunity.
"For many long years father's wrongs had been awaiting avenging; Oswald Langdon was sleeping in Thames slime; I was an exile, robbed of home and fortune; and the guilty Laniers were at large, seeking to ensnare another victim.
"As supposed heir to fabulous wealth, how the real heiress would be avenged! With what dissemblingarts the infatuated Paul would be lured to unwitting confessions! Through feminine wiles I would learn the facts of Lanier guilt, and bring both to justice. Why longer fear any harm from either of these cruel foes?
"Nerved by these sentiments, I became impatient for the test. Since through such strain, maidenly scruples had been stifled, I felt equal to any demands upon my dissembling arts.
"Both uncle and niece attended other social gatherings at which the Laniers were present.
"Though Pierre and Paul were much flattered by Bombay élite, they seemed most interested in Sir Charles Chesterton and Agnes Randall.
"The girl appeared to enjoy Paul's attentions. Soon it was rumored that Paul and Agnes were engaged.
"Paul proposed, and was conditionally accepted. He asked uncle's consent, who insisted on an inventory of all property belonging to the Laniers. Paul furnished the list. Uncle Thomas took time to look it over, and made copies. Concealed in a folding wardrobe, that assistant heard all Paul's talk.
"Paul called often. Through questions and hints from me, he told much of his past life, but gave wrong names, places, and dates. I would appear pleased at any story which promised some revelation as to Calcutta or Londonincidents. Paul was vague, and would abruptly change the subject. Then I appeared bored and listless, when he would tell more, but less disconnected, stories about his past. At each suggestive hint I would show renewed interest, again lapsing into listless preoccupation, uneasy dissatisfaction, or frigid unconcern. Paul noted each changing mood, suiting his conduct to these varying caprices.
"At times I would feel an overwhelming sense of disgust at such deceitful, unmaidenly occupation. Past recollections intruded with startling clearness.
"Looking at the infatuated Paul, whose fingers, then nervously twitching, surely would strangle me if he knew, I often shuddered and felt deathly sick, but from such sensations rallied, with strong resolve well to act my part.
"Even these moods appeared to interest Paul, who was most persistently attentive.
"Through uncle's advice, Paul's calls were limited. Though dreading these visits, there yet was a sort of fascination in my strange part. The reaction from such strain was so depressing that I sought relief in renewed excitement, and despite fear and loathing, felt a growing passion and feverish zeal for success in outwitting these villains who were responsible for all my sorrows. The more to stimulate Paul's disclosures of pastvillainies, I made suggestive hints at infatuation for dubious exploits and admiration of cruel, vengeful, crafty successes which elude detection.
"Paul grows more confidingly boastful, omitting many connecting circumstances.
"All the main facts of his Northfield and London crimes are related, but with ingenious disguises.
"For some of the parts in these tragedies, fictitious characters are substituted in place of real actors and the places are changed.
"I appear wonderfully thrilled at these recitals, and ask many questions about obscure parts, insisting on frequent repetitions.
"Pierre Lanier accepted numerous invitations to dine with Sir Charles Chesterton.