Crawfordsville Weekly Journal, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 30 August 1895 — Page 7

By EDMUND DOWNEY,

Author of "A House of Tears," "Red Post Park," Etc.

[Copyright, 1804, by Tillotson & Son.)' "CarefulI I should think so. Airs. Davorn is about the ruo.st particular person I ever knew about locking up at night. Hasp forced back, you say She'd never have slept a wink if she'd known the hasp was not all square. Looks rummy altogether, doesn't it. Mr. Policeman? I'm locked in. Window has been opened. That wants clearing up, I should fancy. What do you think? Ah! There are footsteps on the stairs at last. Stood gracious! What a time they've been! I'll miss my train if I'm kept here much longer."

Constable Metcalf was now busy examining the ground outside the parlor window.

The sill of the window stood about three feet from the ground. Underneath the sill was the narrow patch of clay then there -was the narrow graveled walk, upon which the policeman was standing. Between the graveled walk and the iron railings of the forecourt lay a rectangular patch of well trimmed grass. The passage from the front gate to the hall door was about eight feet in length by three and a half in breadth. This passage was laid down in red tiles. The quick eye of Constable Metcalf could detect no sign of footmarks outside the window. The graveled path was almost as hard and as unimpressionable as the red tiles. "Um!" said ho at length, gazing up at the bedroom window, from which the young man had now disappeared. "There doesn't seem very much in this job, "he muttered as he surveyed the front of the house. "And yet"—

As the policeman stood staring at the open bedroom window a piercing shriek fell upon his ears.

CHAPTER II.

DEAD.

The head and shoulders of the young man, Albert Steinworth, were thrust hurriedly out of the window as the sound of the piercing cry died away. "What in thunder is that?" he gasped. "Has the hall door been opened yet?"

Constable Metcalf made no answer, but squared his shoulders and stepped back to the hall door. He pulled the bell vigorously and then applied himself to the knocker.

In a few moments he heard the sound ot feet swiftly descending the stairs. Then he caught- sight through the glass lanels of the hall door of a dim and ghostlike figure. Then lie heard a bolt jeing shot back, the rustle of a chain ind the sound of a key being turned in he lock.

The hall door was then opened with swift movement, and a young girl vho wore a white and terrified counto•ance confronted the policeman.

My aunt' Mrs. Davorn!'' she gasped. "What's wrong, miss?" "She is dying—dead, I fear I ani so srrified I can scarcely realize it. Will ou run for the nearest doctor? Perhaps lmething may be done.''

Constable Metcalf stepped into the all and placed his hand on the arm of le terrified giri. "Just a moment, miss," said he. "But we are losing time," cried the xmg girl, wringing her hands. "Perips it is not too late, though she is ld—cold. My dear aunt, who went to quite well last night—she is dead, ?ld- I can scarcely realize it. I She covered her face with her hands kd seemed utterly bewildered. "Perhaps it is only a fit or something jat way," suggested the policeman. Now, you put on your hat, miss, and to round for Dr. Percival on the Crespt road. He's the nearest doctor, I pik. I must stop and see after things jre. We may, as you say yourself, Iss. be losing precious minutes. Will direct me at once to Mrs. Davorn's km and then hurry for the doctor?" I'Oh, I can't go near the room I" soba the girL "I daren't go near it. I I so terrified of death—and she is lid—coldl" phe burst into a paroxysm of weepas she uttered the last words. 'Only just tell me where to find the ma. There. Is that a hat of yours, ss? Looks like it, I should say," taka hat from a small stand which in the hall. "Now, please, start miss. I '11 find the room for myself.''

It is there," pointing, "on the first ling," said the girl, making a strong rt to control herself as with tremfingers she put ou her hat. Thank you now be oft'. And if you chance to come across one of my es—I mean a policeman, miss—you ht oblige by sending him along here, le now the air will set you up.'' nd almort pushing Miss Rodney out he house Constable Metcalf closed hall door and then mounted the •s at a bound. the top of the first landing, facing lall door, was a room, the door of ih was half open. The policeman :ed the room, whicli was furnished kind of sitting room and sleeping iber. the bed lay a woman, her face half jn by the pillow. After a brief exation Constable Metcalf had no whatever that Mrs. Davorn—the in the bed—had ceased to live. She jrobably been dead some hours, glanced anxiously round the room, aw nothing which would indicate iggle. iking at the face again, it seemed ii as if the woman had been stranbut he could find no marks on the

Then he moved to the door, and ing the irass handle he noticed the key was not inside—indeed, there was-no place for it inside, ew back the door and found the the lock: outside. There 'was .a brass bolt at the back of the door, 5 did not seem to have been tamjwith. v^s

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the poor lady by doctor or any one else,'' reflected the constable, moving out on the landing and drawing the door after him and locking it, "No wonder the young lady was frightened. And now for my young gentleman in the front bedroom!"

The next landing was approached by live steps. It was a square landing, measuring about four feet each way. Opening out on it were, two doors, one facing the staircase and the other situated to the right hand side of the landing. A small winding staircase, consisting of about a dozen steps, leading to two attic rooms overhead, turned off at the left hand side of the square landing.

Constable Metcalf proceeded to the door of the room directly facing him, and trying the brass handle— ui old fashioned handle, similar in appearance to the one on Mrs. Davorn's door—he found the door would not yield. The key was in the keyhole outside, just as the key was in the keyhole of the door which was now closed upon the dead woman. "Rather an unusual sort of way to have locks fixed," mused the policeman. "But there is no doubt our young friend is right—that he is securely locked in. Now, then," as he grasped the key and turned it slowly in the lock, "we'll see what he's got to say.

After the key had been turned the policeman turned the brass handle and found the door yielded easily. He stepped into Albert Steinworth's bedroom.

The young man was standing at the window. He hurried toward Constable Metcalf as the latter entered the room, and with a grave and anxious face he asked: "What on earth is the matter? What was that awful cry I heard some minutes ago?" "It was the young lady of the house —Miss Rodney I think is the name. "Miss Rodney! Good heavens—what of her?" "She got a bad fright at finding Mrs. Davorn dead in her bed." "Mrs. Davorn dead in her bed! Oh, surely this is some awful mistake! Dead?"

The young man's face was not ordinarily blessed with much color. It was now ghastly white, and his lips trembled violently. "Dead's the word, sir," said the policeman. "No mistake about that. Miss Rodney has gone to fetch the doctor,

She was dead.

but he will not be of much use on the first landing. Didn't you see her scurrying along the road from your window?" "No," stammered Mr. Steinworth. "After I heard the hall door opening I stood at my own locked door, with my ear glued to it, trying if I could find out what had gone wrong—what was the matter—but I could only hear your voice and the sobs of a woman. This is terrible news, certainly." "Yes. It is rather startling, especially to those that belong to the house. And now, young gentleman, will you give me your attention for a bit until the doctor comes?" "Certainly," said Steinworth, pulling himself together. "I suppose I had better abandon all hope of catching the 7 :40 at Paddington?" "I

should think so," said Constable Metcalf. "Now, sir, first and foremost, the locks of these bedrooms puzzle me. They are different from other locks. Can you explain about them?"

A dead body was not much of a mystery to the constable, but the young man locked into his room was a matter that wanted clearing up. "Oil, yes," answered Steinworth briskly. "I remember I used to kick up a shine with Mrs. Davorn"—he gasped as he mentioned the name—"in the beginning, and the unfortunate lady got brass bolts fixed on the inside of the doors. That's mine, as you can see," pointing to a small brass bolt fixed on the door. "She told me that when the house was being renovated—just before she came to it—whoever did it up thought the old locks were too good to throw away.'' He had now recovered his complacent manner, and he spoke with the volubility which had in the beginning disconcerted the police constable. Much too good to throw away. Wonderfully good locks, I understand. They are all the same in the bedrooms —at least, so I understand. A brass box is all I have got for my money inside, as you can see. No hole inside for the key. No use in any one putting her eye to the keyhole outside, I used to t.hink it very rummy myself in the start, but I got accustomed to it in time. And it has got its advantages. It is handy enough if you want to leave the room for a bit. Lock the door outside, put the key in your pocket, and there you are. You haven't to go fishing for a key inside, and there's no occasion to lose your temper trying to fit it into the hole outside. Capital lock, I call it. And then when I do want to shut myself up for the night there's the brass bolt that Mrs. Davorn got fixed for me— But this is awful news about her!" The pallor overspread his face again, and his voice grew husky. She seemed quite in her ordinary health last night. I wonder what did she die of?" "We must leave that to the doctors," answered Constable Metcalf. gazing fixedly at the lock of Albert Steinworth's 499?* V1 sapppseJ'jsaid lip after.n.mp-, iheritary pause, "tlie other room on'the' same landing is a bedroom?"

"Occupied, I presume?" "Yes. A Mr. Vickery occupies it, A rum sort of customer. Always closeted in his room with something or other which he says lie is inventing—unless when he is out on the prowi. He's a strange old codger—uot that he is so very old either except, about the eyes. They seem to be 100 years of age. "He sleeps pretty soundly—that .is, if ho has not been awakened by Miss Rodney's cry." "Sleep! He's a rare one to sleep. I don't think he's ever out- of bed before 11 o'clock in the day. "Let us see if he is up now. "You may take my word for it he is now snoring like a pig.'' "Well, if the young lady's cry did not wake him no ordinary sound will have much effect upon him. He'll have to be shaken.'' "Like a carpet," observed Mr. Stemworth, smiling and disclosing two long, white teeth under his light mustache. "Perhaps he is locked in too." "Like enough. What do you make of it? Window below forced, my room locked from the outside, Mrs. Davorn dead." He shuddered as he used her name. "What on earth does it all mean? I feel quite shaken." "We must wait."

Constable Metcalf moved out of the room, his gaze still fascinated by the brass lock. "You'll excuse me, sir," said he suavely as Le stood with Albert Steinworth on the landing, "but I'll just lock your door for the present and keep the key until we have things cleared up a bit.''

An uneasy frown contracted Steinworth's brows. "Lock my door? Don't you think I have had enough of that kind of thing?"

Constable Metcalf offered no reply"My hat is inside. May I take it?" asked the young man. "Or will you fetch it for me?" "As you please, sir. But you will clearly understand you don't leave the house until I get my orders from my superiors. This is a serious business."

The constable did not like Mr. Steinworth's occasional lapses into flippancy any more than the young gentleman's voluble manner. "I suppose you are quite right, though I don't see the force of being detained here. It is very hard on me. "Now then!" opening Steinworth's door. "Your hat, or whatever you want, and please be quick. The doctor will be here soon, no doubt."

Steinworth's hat lay on a chair near the window. He took it up and placed it oh his head, and then slowly came back to the lauding, standing moodily alongside the policeman while, the door was being locked. "Our sleepy friend must be aroused," said the policeman, briskly, turning to the door of Mr. Vickery's room and trying the handle. "Hello!" said he, as he turned the handle and pushed the door. "Here is another gent locked into his room. Something very odd about all this. Has he a bolt inside, too?" turning to Steinworth. "I think so." "Anyhow the door is locked. See," turning the key, "the door is now open. But I don't particularly care to enter uninvited." He tapped loudly at the door with his finger tips. There was no responsa He rapped with his knuckles. 5fo response. Then he gave the panel of the door a sounding smack with the palm of his hand. "I hope we haven't got another dead un here," he observed, turning to Steinworth. "I sincerely hope not, "said the young man. "I feel shaken to pieces at hearing of one dead person in the house."

Constable Metcalf now proceeded to kick at the door. "If that doesn't rouse him," said he, "I'll take the liberty of entering without an invitation."

A gruff voice from Mr. Vickery's bedroom startled both men. "Who the devil is there?" "The police. Open your door. "The police! Merciful heaven!"

Then the sound of a man tumbling out of bed was heard by the two men on the landing, and in a few moments the door was drawn back, and Bernard Vickery, clothed in a long woolen nightgown, his face white and drawn, his eyes wild and bloodshot, stood in the open doorway.

CHAPTER III.

CHLOROFORM.

"What's the matter?" stammered Mr. Vickery, his eyes blinking and his face twitching. "What do you want with me?"

Constable Metcalf glanced at the agitated man from head to foot, With no sign of emotion in his voice or manner he answered him that the lady of the house had been found dead in lier bed. "Mrs. Davorn dead!" gasped the man in the doorway. Oh, you cannot surely mean that!" He held up his hands in an appealing attitude. "I do mean it," said the policeman.

You sleep rather soundlu."

Mr. lcnery seemeu overwneimeci witn horror. He covered his face.with his longbony Hanrl!,- hiS' body "trembling as if he were shaken by an ague. In a few moments lie uncovered Jus face, and in a .subdued voice asked:

"Does Miss Rodney know?" "Yes, it was she who discovered the lady dead in her bed this morning. "It is true then. It is horrible. Shocking! I feel quite dazed. ""iou sleep rather soundly," said the policeman. "Is it possible you didn't hear any disturbance in the house awhile ago?" "Disturbance? No, I heard nothing. At least nothing that I can remember," stammered Mr. Vickery, raising his eyes and gazing at flu- constable and at Steinworth, who was standing behind the mail of the law busily chewing his yellow mustache. "Yes, I do sleep soundly sometimes. I was up lato last night. It must have been u- advanced in the small hours when I got to sleep. I scarcely Snow what I am saying. He jhivered again. "Perlians vou had better tret on vour ciotiies, sir, suggested uonstatue Metcalf. "I expect you find it chilly standing there your teeth chatter.'' "Thank you. Yes, it is cold. I will get on my clothes.''

Suddenly the bravery which found its way into his voice disappeared. "Great heavens!" he cried, throwing up his hands. "This is terrible—what you tell me of Mrs. Davorn!" "All, here comes the doctor at last!" exclaimed the policeman. "Come, get on your clothes, sir," to Mr. Vickery. "I'll take the liberty of locking you in your room while I attend to the doctor," suiting the action to the word.

As the policeman turned round on the landing, the keys of the. bedrooms in his pocket, he saw the figure of a portly man, something under the middle height, on the first landing. "All right, doctor," said the constable, moving quickly down the five steps. "That's the room, and this is the key," opening the door of the dead woman's room, and ushering Dr. Stanley Percival into the bedchamber.

Albert Steinworth still remained on the upper landing gnawing his yellow mustache.

Dr. Stanley Percival was a grave, taciturn man, about 55 years of age. He had a large practice in Clayfields, and fully deserved his popularity and the reputation for ability which he had earned.

As he approached the bedside of Mrs. Davorn he sniffed the air. "Um!" said he, looking toward Constable Metcalf. "Chloroform." "I got an odd sort of smell, doctor, as I entered the room first, but I didn't know what it was.

Dr. Percival was now busy examining Mrs. Davom. A quick hope had surged into his breast when he had smelled the chloroform. The lady might be only stupefied with the drug.

A brief examination, however, took all the hope from Dr. Percival's breast, Mrs. Davorn could never be brought back to life.

She has been dead some hours," he said sadly. "So I thought inyself, sir. I have had some experience with corpses, doctor, or I should not b^ so bold as to venture an opinion. Might I ask what you think it is, sir?"

Dr. Percival vouchsafed no reply. He was standing close to the bed, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes fixed on the face of the dead woman. Suddenly sniffing the air again, he stepped back a couple of paces, and then he stooped, and thrusting his hand under the bed he felt about liini for a few seconds, and with an air of satisfaction he drew out from under the bed a sponge.

Smelling the sponge and offering it to the constable, who sniffed at it vigorously, the doctor said, "I thought the chloroform wasn't very far off," and then went back to the bedside. "Um!" said he after a pause.. "This is strange.'' "Very strange, sir," said tlie policeman. "Queer job altogether. The face looks distorted, doctor, doesn't it?" "Yes," said Dr. Percival absently. He again turned to the dead body and peered into the half closed eyes. "It's a rum business all round, sir," observed the policeman, finding silence irksome, "Ah!" exclaimed Dr. Percival, snapping his lips and losing his absent manner. "Well, constable," said he briskly, "I can do no good licie ai itunately* I take that spoi j,e iu saw where I found it. "Yes, sir. "It may bo of serious importance As the spirit has not entirely evaporated the sponge cannot have been here long. I think you had better lock the room up and report matters at your station. "I asked Miss Rodney to give word to one of my mates if she chanced to meet one. I suppose it was the chloroform did it, doctor?" "We shall see. We shall see, said Dr. Percival. "As I have told you, I can be of no further use here just now. Mrs. Da von is dead—has probably been dead for some Injurs. You will find me at my house if your inspector should want me before 11 o'clock or after 2. I'll be on my rounds between 11 and 2. Good morning, constable." "Good morning, sir," said the policeman, ushering the doctor out of 'lie bedroom. "Don't upset yourself, mv dear Miss Rodney," Metcalf heard the doctor say as the physician reached the hall. "And it is true then, doctor? She is dead?" "It is unfortunately too true. But there, don't upset yourself, like a dear youDg lady. I'll call round about 11 if I can manage to snatch the time then. If not, I'll'come later. Don't trouble. I'll open it for myself.

Constable Metcalf had succeeded in closing the door of Mrs. Davorn's room —the lock seemed to be unusually obstinate on this occasion—by the time the noise, of the closing of the hall door upon Dr. Percival reached his listening ears. Tlifai he heard sounds of violent sobbing proceeding from the front parlor. .'.'The poor young lady's grief is nothing to me, of course," reflected the constable, who had a softer corner in his heart than he gave himself credit for. "We must see what happened hero

during the night, I womKV lias she given the word to any of my mates?" He was not, however, eager to be disturbed just then by the advent of a fellow constable or by an inspector. He was losing no time, and the more information he could acquire the better for everybody. He turned round aud again mounted to tlie second landing.

Albert Steinworth was leaning against tlie jamb of his own bedroom door, biting liis thumb nail. "I suppose it really is all over then?" said the young man, straightening his back and pointing toward the room where the body lay. "Dead as a doornail," said the policeman. "I thought so myself when I entered the room this morning—exactly on the stroke of 6 it was then—but it don't do to be offering professional oninions in matters of life and death. Has the gentleman in here,'' pointing with the thumb of his right hand, "made any move since?" "No—at, least I have heard nothing. "He ought to bo dressed now. Perhaps he is waiting to be released.

Constable Metcalf knocked at Mr. Vickery's door, and in response to the summons heard a gruff "Come in!" The policeman opened the lock, turned the handle iuul threw back the door.

Mr. Vickery, fully dressed, came forward as the door opened. "Were you aware, sir," asked the constable, "that you were locked into your room last niglit,—or, at all events, early this morning?"

A puzzled looii stole into the Diooasnot eyes of Bernard Vickery. "Locked into my room? I don't quite understand you. What do you mean?" "Why, that I found your door, as well as the other one on the landing, locked from the outside.''

There was a perplexed look in Bernard Vickery's eyes as the policem.au explained about tho doors. "That is odd, surely," said lie. "I seldom trouble about my lock at niglit or about the inside bolt. I am generally a late bird. But who could have locked me in, or why?" "Don't* ask hie. Now, gentlemen, I want to have a word with Miss Rodney. What will you do with yourselves meanwhile? Recollect I am acting for myself, but 1 think I am right in saying that you must not leave the house until I have further instructions about you. "I suppose, then," said Steinworth, who had been strangely silent, "that I may put Paddington finally out of my head?" "I should say so. "All right, policeman. There is no use in crying over spilled mi 11c. He took off his hat and rubbed tho sleeve of his coat round it. "You see, wo shall want the assistance of every one in the house to clear up the mystery—for it looks a bit mysterious—of Mrs. Davorn's death. Ah! 1 think I hear the voice of one of my mates in tho hall. I'll send him up here to you while I go down to the young lady. You'll keep my mate in chat, 1 hope, gentlemen. It's very awkward, 1 know. He's a gruff sort of customer, but- he means well.''

Steinworth nodded in a careless way. and, abandoning his hat, ho again ud dressed himself to his mustache. "Now, sir," said Constable Metcalf, glancing at Mr. Vickery, "I'll take the liberty of locking your room. "This is very arbitrary, surely," observed Mr. Vickery. "Not at all, sir," locking the door as Vickery stepped tremblingly out on the landing. "Now I'll run down stairs, gentlemen." "Can I have just oue word with you," asked Albert Steinworth, "say on the lower landing?" "Certainly, only remember I am a policeman." "The caution, if it is meant for such, is, I think, unnecessary." following tlie constable dowu the five steps.

What I want to ask you,'' said Steinworth, lowering his voice almost to a whisper, "is, what does the doctor say?" "About Mrs. Davorn?" inquired Metcalf, placing his open hand ou ho door which now separated him from the dead woman. "Yes what does ho think of it?" "1 don't know what ho thinks—he's not very free with his thoughts, but 1 should say ho thinks with me, that it is chloroform. "What? Chloroform!" "Yes looks rather like it. "Looks like what?" "That the latlv was sent oil' into her last sleep with an overdose of chloroform "You surely don't, mean that? Yon ciui't mean that it was anything more than an ordinary sudden death?" Steinworth's face was pinched and pallid as lie put the quesHfin "1 am alraid it looks very like murder. "Heavens! No!" cried tho young man, trembling violently, and losing control of his voice. "Who would murder such a kind lady, and for what?" "I don't know. I think I have said a great deal too much as it is, sir," observed tho suave policeman. "This is most shocking," whimpered Stein worth. It wi 11 drive Miss Rodney crazy. Does she know anything of §.his —this suspicion of chloroform, or whatever you say it is?" "I can't say you must not ask me too many questions. We are losing a lot of time. I am, at any rate. "What a mercy I was locked into my room last night I" exclaimed Steinworth, throwing up his hands. "There is no knowi»j where this will end." "Hello, Young!" cried Constable Metcalf, affecting to ignore Steinworth's hysterics and addressing himself to his fellow constable who stood in the halL "Hello!" answered Constablo Young in a gruff voice. "I say, Young, will you step this way, and keep two gentlemen company up hero for a bit? I want to see tlie young lady below. .« "All right," answered Young. "Been rather long, but from the information received from the young lady I thought it best to co back to tho station. Inspect­

or Briggs win no Here present ly. Ho met Dr. Percival on the Crescent road. I left them having a chat together about tliis 'ere job.

CHAPTER IV.

MRS. DAVOKX'S NIECE.

It was now about half past 7 o'clock. Tho morning mist had disappeared, and there was a promise in the sky of a line clear day.

In tho front sitting room of li} Felspar road a young girl sat, her arms ou a small table in tho center of tho room, her head pillowed in her arms.

Ethel Rodney, niece and only living relativo of the woman lying dead, was five and twenty years of age. She was an only child, und her mother had died before Ethel had reached h«r fifteenth btrthduy. John Rodney, her father, held

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honorable

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--.lenitive post in the

civil service. He was au improvident man, content always to regard the good and evil of tho day sufficient Ho owned to living up to every penny of his income and was always tlu-eatening himself with retrenchment,. At 45, when Ethel was in her nineteenth year, John Rodney suddenly died. When his affairs were wound up, it, was ascertained that not only had ho saved nothing, but that he Wiis considerably in debt. An appeal had been made to his department, and a sum of money was privately subscribed by his colleagues.

After the payment of John Rodney's debts, for whicli purpose tho money had principally been raised, it was found thero was a small sum left, and it was decided to apprentice Ethel to her aunt —a widowed sister of John Rodney, who at that time conducted a fairly flourishing millinery business in tho west end of London. When Ethel had been two years with her aunt, Mrs. Davorn, being anxious about her own health and eager to give up the cares of her shop, decided to sell tho business, and proposed to her nieco they should live together in some quiet London suburb, Ethel to perform the light duties of a, companion 'to her aunt Mrs. Davorn, on settling her affairs, found she was. possessed of a sum of over £0,000, and she felt she could safely leave business, and its cares behind her and be able tomato comfortablo provision for herself and for her niece, whom she dearly loved

Mrs. Davorn had taken the advice of a friend, and had invested her savings in oue lump in a prosperous colonial bank. Then she took and furnished 13 Felspar road, and felt that at 41 years of ago all her business cares and worries had been buried forever. In the third year after she luul settled down in Clayfields the prosperous colonial bank wont into liquidation, and tho widowed lady found her capital reduced from over £0,000 to something under £1,500. She know she was unfitted to begin over again a business career, an ft she knew that ,£1,500 securely invested could not keep the houso going. She was very much attached to the house, which sho had furnished tastefully and comfortably thero was a pretty garden at tho rear, and the neighborhood was supposed to bo eminently healthy. Therefore sho decided to try the exxieriment of keeping tho houso and letting apartments. Steinworth and Vickery had been her first and only lodgers. Both men found their quiirters specially comfortablo, but Mrs. Davorn was just beginning to discover that the letting of apartments was not, in her case, a very profitable arrangement.

When things had come to this pass, she received another shock at hearing that the bank in which she had invested £1,300 Wiis in a perilous condition. Without waiting to learn if tho rumor was worth her serious attention she had on Tuesday, the 8th of October, gone into town and drawn her £1,5300 (which had been Mged on deposit at call) out of the bank.

About 12 months previously Ethel" Rodney had met at a dance in the housb of a friend in Clayfields a young doctor who was at tho time au assistant to Dr. Stanley PercivaL Maurice Leclerc was a tall, slender, young man, about six and' twenty years of age, with a pale face, a beautiful «quare forehead, piercing dark eyes, and crisp brown hair. Though his father was a Frenchman, Leclerc had been born in England. His mother was of Irish parentage, and young Leclerc inherited tho volatile nature of his

When did you see her alive last?" French father and the impulsivo and' somewhat gloomy temperament of his Irish mother. Maurice Leclerc fell violently in love at first sight with Ethel Rodney, and threo months after their first meeting he proposed.

Tho young girl was not prepared for such swift aud passionate courtship, and she declined to say "yea" or "nay" to' Leclerc for at least another six months.-: The young doctor took his rebuff badly, but it did not lessen the ardor of his passion. Ho appealed to Mrs. Davorn,' but from Inn- he got no help or promiso of help. Mrs. Davorn had for some reason taken an instinctive disliko to iho handsome young doctor. His impulsivo tuiinner jarred on her nerves.

(to bk continued.)

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