Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 242, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 October 1915 — The CZAR'S SPY [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The CZAR'S SPY

The Hysfery of a Silenf Love

by Chevalier WILLIAM LE QUIUX

AUTHOR Tltr CUOED BOOK,” fit-

ILLUSTRATIONS C D RHODES, wrfNCHT my TXT &*AHr sir ruauvifKr co

SYNOPSIS. Oartlon Qrrn to called upon In Legh«rn by Hornby, the yacht Lola's owner, and dining aboard with him and his friend. Hylton Chator, accidentally sees a torn photograph of a young girl. That night tne consul's safe is robbed. The police find that Hornby is a fraud and the Lola's name a false one. Gregg visits Cant. Jack Durnford of the marines aboard his vessel. Durnford knows, but will not reveal, the mystery oi the Lola. "It concerns a woman.” In london Gregg is trapped nearly to his death by a former servant. Olinto. Visiting in Dumfries Gregg meets Muriel Leithcourt. Hornby appears and Muriel introduces him as Martin Woodroffe. her father’s friend. Oregg finds that she is engaged to WoodrofTe. Gregg sees a copy of the torn photograph on the Lola and finds that the young girl is Muriel’s friend. Woodroffe disappears. Gregg discovers the body of a murdered woman in Ran»och wood. The body disappears and in its plaoe is found the body of Olinto. Gragg talks to the police but conceals his own knowledge of the woman. Muriel calla secretly on Gregg and tells him that she Is certain that a woman as well as a man has been murdered. They search Rannoch wood together, and find the pedy of the woman Gregg recognises her as Armtda, Olinto’s wife. Gregg tells the police, but when they go to the wood tne body has disappeared. In London Gregg meets Olinto, alive and well. Falling to get any clue from Olinto, Gregg traces tne young girl of the torn photograph. CHAPTER Vlll—Continued. “Well. the last I received only a fortnight ago. If you will wait a moment I will go and get It It was so strange that I haven’t destroyed It.” And she went out, and I heard by the the frou-frou of her skirts that she waa ascending the stairs. After live minutes of breathless anxiety she rejoined me, and handing me the letter to read. Bald: "It Is not in her handwriting— l wonder whyr The paper waa of foreign make, with blue lines ruled in squares. Written in a hand that was evidently foreign, for the mistakes in the orthography were many, was the following curious communication: My Deer Lydls: Perhaps you may never get this letter—the last I shall ever be able to send you. Indeed. I run great risks in sending it. Ah! you do not know the awful disaster that has happened to me. all the terrors and the tortures I endure. But no one can aaeist me. and I am now looking forward te the time when It will all be over. Do you recollect our old peaceful days In the garden at Chichester? I think of them always, always, and compare that sweet peace of the past with my own terrible sufferings of today. Ah, how I wish I might see you once again; how that I might feel your hand upon my brow, and hear your words of hope and encouragement! But happiness is now debarred from me, and I am only sinking to the grave under this slow torture of body and of soul. "This will pass through many hands before It reaches the post. If. however. It ever does get dispatched and you receive It. will you do me one last favor—a favor to an unfortunate girl who Is friendless and helpless. and who will no longer trouble the world? It Is this: Take this letter to London, and call upon Mr. Martin Woodroffe at 98 Cork street, Piccadilly. Show him my letter, and tell him from me that through It all I have kept my promise, and that the secret is still safe. He will understand—and also know why I cannot write this with my own hand. If he to abroad, keep it until he returns. It to all I ask of you. Lydia, and I know that if this reaches you, you will not refuse me. You have been my only friend and confidante, but I now bid you farewell, for the unknown beckons me, and from the grave I cannot write. Again farewell, and for ever. Your loving and affectionate friend, ELMA. “A very strange letter, is It not?” remarked the girl at my side. ”1 can’t make it out You see there is no address, but the postmark is Russian. She is evidently in Russia.” “In Finland,” I said, examining the stamp and making out the post town to be Abo. "But have you been to London and executed this strange commission?” "No. We are going up next week. I intend to call upon this person named Woodroffe.” I made no remark. He waa, I knew, abroad, but I waa glad at having obtained two very Important clues: first, the address of the mysterious yachtsman. Woodroffe, alias Hornby, and. secondly, ascertaining that the young girl 1 sought was somewhere in the vicinity of the town of Abo, the Finnish port on the Baltic. “Poor Elms, you see, speaks in her letter of some secret. Mr. Gregg,” my companion said. “She says she wishes this Mr. Woodroffe, whoever he is, to know that she has kept her promise and has not divulged It. This only bears out what I have all along suspected.” "What are your suspicions?’’ "Well, from her deep, thoughtful manner, and from certain remarks she at times made to me. I believe Elma Is in possession of some great and terrible secret —a secret which her ancle, Baron Oberg. is desirous of learning. I know she holds him in deadly fear—she is In terror that she may inadvertently betray to him the truth!" 4 —i n. i. CHAPTER IX. Btrsnge Oladeeures Are Made. The strange letter of Elma Heath, •ombined with what Lydia Moreton had told me, aroused within me a determination to Investigate the mystery. From the moment I had landed from the loin on ffra* hot; breathless night -

mystery until it was all bewildering. Had it not been for the mystery of it all —and mystery ever arouses the human curiosity—l should have given up trying to get at the truth. Yet as a man with some leisure, and knowing by that letter of Elma Heath’s that she was in sore distress, I redoubled my efforts to ascertain the reason of it all. On leaving Leghorn I had given up all hope of tracing the mysterious yachtsman and had left the matter in the hands of the Italian police. But, without any effort on my own part, 1 seemed to have been drawn into a veritable network of strange incidents, all of which combined to form the most complete and remarkable enigma ever presented in life. Those September days were full of anxiety for me. Alone and unaided I was trying to solve one of the greatest of problems, plunged as I was in a veritable sea of mystery. I wanted to see Muriel Leithcourt, and to question her further regarding Elma Heath. Therefore again 1 left Euston and, traveling through the night, took my seat at the breakfast table at Greenlaw next morning. Sir George, who was sitting alone — It not being my aunt’s habit to appear early—welcomed me, and then in his bluff manner sniffed and exclaimed: “Nice goings on up at Rannoch! Have you heard of them?” “No. What?” I cried breathlessly, staring at him. "Well, it’s a very funny story, and there are a dozen different distorted versions of It.” he said. “But, from what 1 can gather the true facts are

these: About seven o'clock the night before last, as Leithcourt and his house party were dressing for dinner, a telegram arrived. Mrs. Leithcourt opened it and at once went off into hysterics, while her husband, in a breathless hurry, slipped off his evening clothes again and got into an old blue serge suit, tossed a few things into a bag, and then went along to Muriel’s room to urge her to prepare for secret flight.” “Flight!” I gasped. “What, have they gone?” "Listen, and I’ll tell you. The servants have described the whole affair down in the village, so there’s no doubt about it. Leithcourt showed Muriel the telegram and urged her to fly. At first she refused, but for her father’s sake was induced to prepare to accompany him. Of course, the guests were In ignorance of all this. The brougham was ordered to be ready in the stable yard and not to go round, while Mrs. Leithcourt’s maid tried to bring the lady back to her senses. Leithcourt himself, it seemed, rushed hither and thither, seizing the jewel cases of his wife and daughter and whatever valuables he could place his hand upon, while the mother and daughter were putting on their things. As he rushed down staircase to the library, where his check book and some ready cash were locked in the safe, he met a stranger who had jnst been admitted and shown into the room. Leithcourt closed the door and faced him. What afterward transpired, however, is a mystery, for two hours later, after he and the two women had escaped, leaving the house party to their own diversions. the stranger was found locked In a large cupboard and Insensible. The sensation was a tremendous one. Cowan, the doctor, was called, and declared that the stranger had' been dragged and was suffering from some narcotic. The servant who Admitted him declared that the man had said u appointment with bis master

ana Iliac no c*ru was necessary. He. however, gave the name of Chater.” “Chater!" I cried, starting up. "Are you certain of that name?” *T only know what Cowan told me,” was my uncle’s reply. “But do you know him?" “Not at all. Only I’ve heard that name before,” I said. “I knew a man out in Italy of the same name. But where if the visitor now?” “In the hospital at Dumfries. They took him there in preference to leaving him alone at Rannoch.” "Alone?” "Of course. Everyone has left, now the host and hostess have slipped off without saying good-by. Scandalous affair, isn’t it? But, my boy, you'll remember that I always said I didn’t like those people. There’s something mysterious about them, I feel certain. That telegram gave them warning of the visit of the man Chater, depend upon it, and for some reason they’re afraid of him. It would be interesting to kilbw what transpired between the two men in the library. And these are people who’ve been taken by everybody—mere adventurers, I should call them!” And old Sir George sniffed again at thought of such scandal happening In the neighborhood. “If Gilrae must let Rannoch, then why in the name of Fortune- doesn’t he let it to respectable folk and not to the first fellow who answers his advertisement in the Field? It’s simply disgraceful!” “Certainly it is a most extraordinary story,” I declared. "Leithcourt evidently wished to escape from his visitor, and that’s why he drugged him.” "Why he poisoned him, you mean. Cowan says the fellow is poisoned, but that he’ll probably recover. He Is already conscious, I hear.” I resolved to call on the doctor, who happened to be well known to me, and obtain further particulars. Therefore at eleven o’clock I drove into Dumfries and entered his consulting room. He was a spare, short, fair man, a trifle bald, and when I was shown in he welcomed me warmly, speaking with his pronounced Galloway accent. “Well, it is a very mysterious case, Mr. Gregg.” he said, after I had told him the object of my visit. “The gentleman is still at the hospital, and I have to keep him very quiet. He was poisoned without a doubt and has had a very narrow escape of his life. The police got wind of the affair and Mackenzie called to question him. But he refused to make any statement whatever, apparently treating the affair very lightly. The police, however, are mystified as to the reason of Mr. Leithcourt’s sudden flight, and are very anxious to get at the bottom of the curious affair.” “Naturally. And more especially after the tragedy up in Rannoch wood a short time ago,” 1 said. “That’s just it,” said the doctor, removing his pince-nez and rubbing them. "Mackenzie seems to suspect some connection between Leithcourt’s sudden disappearance and that mysterious affair. It seems very evident that the telegram was a warning to Leithcourt of the man Chater’s intention of calling, and that the last-named was shown in just at the moment when the fugitive was on the point of leaving.” Knowing all that I did, I was not surprised. Leithcourt had undoubtedly taken him unawares, but knights of industry never betray each other. My next visit was to Mackenzie, for whom I had to wait nearly an hour, as he was absent in another quarter of the town. “Ah, Mr. Gregg!" he cried gladly, as he came in to find me seated in a chair patiently reading the newspaper. “You are the very person I wish to see. Have you heard of this strange affair at Rannoch?” “I have,” was my answer. “Has the man in the hospital made any statement yet?" “None. He refuses point blank.” answered the detective. “But my own idea is that the affair has a very close connection with the two mysteries of the wood.” “The first mystery —that of the man —proves to be a double mystery,” I said. "How? Explain it.” “Well, the waiter Olinto Santinl Is alive and well in London.” “What!” he gasped, starting up. “Then he is not the person you identified him to be?” “No. But he was masquerading as Santini —made up to resemble him, I mean, even to the mole upon his face.” “But you identified him positively?” “When a person is dead it is very easy to mistake countenances. Death alters the countenance so very much.” “That’s true,” he said reflectively. “But if the man we’ve buried is not the Italian, then the mystery is considerably increased. Why was the real man’s wife here?” “And where has her body been concealed? That’s the question.” “Again a mystery. We have made a thorough search for four days, without discovering any trace of it Quite confidentially, I’m wondering if this man Chater knows anything. It te carious, to say the least, that the Leith courts should have fled so hurriedly on this man’s appearance. But have you actually seen Olinto Santini?” “Yes, and have spoken with him.” “I sent up to London asking that Inquiries should be made at the restaurant in Bayawater. but up to the present I have received no report.” “I have chatted with Olinto. His wife has mysteriously disappeared, but he te in ignorance that she te dead." “There Is widespread conspiracy here, depend upon it, Mr. Gregg. It will be an interesting case when are get to the bottom of it aIL I only wish tills fellow Clutter would tell ns the reason he called upon Leithcourt." “What does tea savt*’

* ”M«reiy tn«u be urn* no wish to prosecute, and that he has no statement to make.” "Can’t you compel him to say something?” I asked. “No. I can’t. That’s the Infernal difficulty of it If he don’t choose to speak, then we must still remain in ignorance, although I feel confident that he knows something of the strange affair up in the wood.” And although I was silent, I shared the Scotch detective’s belief. The afternoon was chill and wet as I climbed the hill to Greenlaw. The sudden disappearance of the tenants of Rannoch was, I found, on everyone’s tongue in Dumfries. In the smoke room of the railway hotel three men were discussing it with many grimaces and sinister hints, and the talkative young woman behind the bar asked me my opinion of the strange goings-on up at the castle. I decided that the man who bad smoked and chatted with me so affably on that hot. breathless night in the Mediterranean must remain in ignorance of my presence, or of my knowledge. Therefore I stayed for a week at Greenlaw with eyes and ears open, yet exercising care that the patient in the hospital should be unaware of my presence. The inquiry into the death of the unidentified man in Rannoch wood had been resumed and a verdjct returned of willful murder against some person unknown, while of the second crime the public had no knowledge, for the body was not discovered. Chater, as soon as he recovered, left the hospital and went south —to London, I ascertained— leaving the police utterly in the dark and filled with suspicion of the fugitives from Rannoch. One day I called at the castle, the front entrance of which I found closed. Gilrae. the owner, had come up from

London and discharged all the late tenant’s servants, keeping on only his own. Ann Cameron, a housemaid, was one of these, and it was she whom I met when entering by the servants’ hall. On questioning her, t found her most willing to describe how she was in the corridor outside the young mistress’ room when Mr. Leithcourt dashed along in breathless haste with the telegram in his hand. She heard him cry. “Look at this! Read it, Muriel. We must go. Put on your things at once, my dear. Never mind about luggage. Every minute lost is of consequence. What!” he cried a moment “You won’t go? You’ll stay here —stay here and face them? Good heavens! girl, are you mad? Don’t you know what this means? It means that the secret is out —the secret is out, you hear! We must fly!” The woman told me that she distinctly heard Miss Muriel sobbing, while her father walked up and down the room speaking rapidly in a low tone. Then he came out again and returned to his dressing room, while Miss Muriel presumably changed from her evening gown into a dark traveling dress. “Did she say anything to you?” I inquired. “Only that they were called away suddenly, sir. But,” the domestic added, “the young lady was very pale and agitated, and we all knew that something terrible had happened. Mrs. Leithcourt gave orders that nothing was to be told to the guests, who dined alone, believing that their host and hostess had gone down to the village to see an old man who was dying. That was the story we told them, sir." “And In the, meantime the Leithcourts were in the express going to Carlisle?" “Yes, sir. They say in Dumfries that the police telegraphed after them, but they had reached Carlisle and evidently changed there, and so got away.” By the administration of a Judicious tip I was allowed to go up to Miss Muriel's room, an elegantly furnished little chamber in the front of the fine old place, with a deep old-fashioned window commanding a magnificent view across the broad Nithsdale. The roam had been tidied by the maids, but allowed to remain Just as she had left it. 1 advanced to the window, in which was set the large dressing table with its big swing ntr- «' • __ I'..

rw and silver^topped bottle*, and *e gazing out saw. to my surprise, ft was the only window which gav* a view of that corner of Rannoch wood where the double tragedy had taken place. Indeed, any person standing at the spot would have a clear view of that one distant window while out of sight of all the rest. A light might be placed there at night as a signal, for instance; or by day a towel might be hung from the window as though to dry and yet could be plainly seen at that distance. Another object in the room also attracted my attention —a pair of long field glasses. Had she used these to keep watch upon that spot? I took them up and focused them upon the boundary of the wood, finding that I could distinguish everything quite plainly. “That’s where they found the man who was murdered," explained the servant, who still stood in the doorway. “I know,” I replied. “I was Just trying the glasses.’’ Then I put them down, and on turning saw upon the mantel shelf a small, bright red candle shade, which I took in my band. It was made, I found, to fit upon the electric table lamp. “Miss Muriel was very fond of a red light,” explained the young woman; and as I held it I wondered if that light had ever been placed upon the toilet table and the blind drawn up—whether it had ever been used as a warning of danger? As I expressed a desire to see the young lady’s boudoir, the gaaid Cameron took me down to the luxurious little room where, the first moment I entered, one fact struck me as peculiar. The picture of Elma Heath was no longer there. The photograph had been taken from its frame and in its place was the portrait of broadbrowed, full-bearded man in a foreign military uniform —a picture that, being soiled and faded, had evidently been placed there to fill the empty frame. “Has the gentleman who called on the evening of Mr. Leithcourt’S disappearance been back here again since he left the hospital?” I inquired as a sudden idea occurred to me. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

"It Is Not In Her Handwriting—I Wonder Why?”

Leithcourt Closed the Door, and Faced Him.