Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 20, Number 91, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 July 1899 — HIDDEN TERROR [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

HIDDEN TERROR

I R CHAPTER XXI. —(Continued.) HK|gjtaided by the murmur of voices, the deHpW opened a door to the left, and, ■prowing it back, disclosed to view a scene Hphieh Neville never forgot. IF There were five people within the apart■fesent. standing in a half-circle before a ■table covered with a white tablecloth, on Bit was a long low-pitched room, illumi■ptted by about a dozen flaring candles, the of which revealed startlingly enough Ke group near the table. was the central figure, her exHpeme pallor heightened by the black velBct dress that she wore and by the bunch Bit orange blossoms which had been hurBjtedly fastened at her throat. By her side Kjtood the dark, handsome, evil-looking ■San who was luring her to destruction, Bind to whom she was evidently about to ■plight her bridal vows. A third figure, a surplice, stood before the Bpraple; while a man and woman, apparBintiy acting as witnesses of this strange Klatriage, completed the group. Bp At the sound of the opening door —at the Bright of the two figures entering so hastily, so unexpectedly—Caroline, whose eyes Bjjfcd been fixed on the floor, raised them, ■fend, as she did so, Neville tore off his disBguise. Then she uttered a piercing cry ■lpd sank upon a chair near her, covering H)ar face with her hands. ■lpFhe clerical gentleman, apparently as ■inch agitated as she was, glared at the ■bttrnders. The witnesses shrank back, Horace Lane stood up boldly, saying, Hi an authoritative tone: IBp*Who are you? Retire at once, or we ■prill call in the police!” ■feWe have saved you that trouble,” an■fewered the detective, quietly closing the Bjh>or. “There are officers outside ready to laid ns.” lK|‘Officers?” repeated the man, scornfully. “At your peril interrupt the celebraBjton of this marriage! The lady is of age ■lliere is the license. No one has the pow■sr to stop a marriage where the eontractBng parties are of age.” Hjplt is not a marriage ceremony I have Borate here to interrupt,” said the detecBive calmly; “I have come to execute a ■warrant for the apprehension of Horace ■Frederick Lane on a charge of forgery many years ago, and of being Bmarty to a conspiracy whereby one Rich■R Miles Filton became possessed of a Barge property, passing himself off as an Bpnglish gentleman then just deceased in West Indies —one Mr. Richard James What have you to say to ■hat?” ■■Nothing—nothing. With a wild cry the Bpvcbched man sank down before the taKte, *nd his head fell forward upon his Bptstretched arms. hear, Caroline?” said Neville, tryBag to rouse her. “Do you realize what Ei happened? Try to be brave; I will Bake you to my sister’s to-night. Do you Btr that you have really no father?” HKy**' she heard —she even understood the Bpeaning of his words; but she listened as Biiie listens to the utterances of a person Brho is the victim of a horrible dream. Bpven the amazing revelation she had just Beard concerning the man whom she had BfefeHned her father was not so overwhelming to her as the terrible discovery that Bftto man she loved was base clay instead Bf fine gold. In a moment the idol set up Bfati her heart had been shattered, and rea|pon almost tottered under the blow. She wot utter a sound —only sat rigidly Bearing into space, as if literally turned to Btone. ■EThe two persons called in to be witBjwases to the marriage stood aside, with Bpnsternation on their faces. H*‘Wh° are you?” said the detective; but ■all the while he was casting searching ■Maxices at the wearer of the surplice, still Baote 'irith surprise or dread. only people that lodges here, Brir,” answers the man addressed. “We ■seas asked to be witnesses to a marriage, promised five shillings apiece, so me Bmd my wife wasn't backward in saying ■Yea.’ That’s all, sir.” where you are for the present till Blaacertain the truth of what you assert,” ■Maid the officer. IpThen he turned to the clerical gentleL) £q , w ho all this time had remained'Tn an Bpacomfortable attitude, looking from one Kli another, every moment shifting nearer Bo the door. The detective’s searching Blance evidently disconcerted him; but, ■forced now to confront him, he raised his Bead and, trying to speak unconcernedly, Bp*Officer, this is a dreadful termination to ■ft contemplated marriage. The whole Bceae has shaken me in a terrible manner, will now retire, hoping that this genBleman” —indicating Lord Wynmore— Bwill see the lady safe with her friends.” ■ilrTou may feel certain his lordship will ■jso B <>; but you may not feel so certain ■■tout your freedom as to walk out of this ■bouse unquestioned," said the detective, ■gternly. “You and I have met before, ■Km Mullard, and we have not met on ■peasant terms. Ah, you see it is a little ■dangerous to personate a character such ■EVou have assumed to-day. What—you ■were about to perform a marriage cereBpoey'.— you, an ex-thief, swindler and esBfcaped convict! You are as dangerous a Brlllain as lives unhanged!” ■i| CHAPTER XXII. ■■phe man sprang up, his face flaming BbUh hate and futile anger, and was about ■is make a rush for freedom, when he drew ■bfeck suddenly. Five or six police officers Blfere standing on rhp landing. These were ■■sl-former acquaintances to whom the bad alluded. Iw/ 4 Oo!” said the officer, with infinite Btcora, turning away, i P-ft. WB* useless to resist, and the misera|»le culprit was beiug led away when the ■peteetive called out: t -what do you know of this man's Wfal There is such a thing as turning ■Kfeea't evidence and saving your own U|a. What do you know of him?” I gl*"* before the fellow could answer to his feet. does he know of me?” he cried, llllitting, nothing! He can say nothing—- ' -ve nothing—for I paid him only for HfeK he would have done to-night. I know IBthtat concerning him, but he is utterly dark concerning me. He cannot | flgp'M**’* evidence,, but I can-and I conceal his

“Yes, you can save yourself in that way,” observed he, contemptuously. “It is something to save one’s own skin, certainly. You are ready, then, to give evidence as to the commission Of this grievous crime by which your confederate, Filton, has palmed himself off upon society so long as a gentleman who in reality died many years ago in the West Indies?” “I am ready,” answered the man, hoarsely; “but I must be sure that I shall be safe,” he added, his voice faltering with terror. “You will be allowed to go free after the trial of your partner in guilt is concluded,” said the officer. “You hear what he says?” he added to the men who stood round. “It is a very heavy charge we have against him, but he will clear himself in this way, since the law permits it.” “You will have to wait a little, though—the lady has fainted right off.” Yes, Caroline was at length unconscious of the exceeding bitterness of her lot. This last revelation concerning the man whom she had so blindly worshiped, so implicitly believed, had been too sore a thing to bear. What—her unworthy lover had not even meant to marry her! He had hired a villain to mersonate a clergyman! And for this mam’she had left home and relatives —for this wretched deceiver she had turned from Mabel’s pleading, from Dick’s entreaties! “It is very desirable that we should at once communicate with young Mr. Charlford, the real owner of Charlford House,” said the detective. “Lane, it will go in your favor if you can give us information as to where he has been sent.” “I did not plan anything against him,” answered Lane; “but his so-called father did —got him drugged, and then, under all sorts of pretenses, shipped for Rio.” “Good heavens!” murmured Neville, infinitely shocked. “And how are we to find him?” asked the detective sternly. “I’d tell you if I could, sir,” replied Lane, stooping to civility for his own sake. “The name of the vessel that received him as passenger was the Mermaid; the captain could be communicated with. J think you could trace young Mr. Charlford if he is alive.” “Had he any money with him?” asked Neville quickly. “Not a stiver! The young gentleman’s passage was paid; but on landing he would have to shift for himself. The captain thought, when he saw him carried on board, that the young fellow was in ill health, and had faitned. He was taken to the cabin secured for him and left there. The Mermaid sailed immediately afterward.”

“Let me take her away before she recovers and is again conscious of what has happened here,” said Neville aside to the detective, indicating Caroline, for he was beginning to be very anxious about her—her stricken face looked like death rather than life; and five minutes later he was escorting her half lifeless form toward Lady EtHngton’s. Late that same night—it was nearly one o’clock in the morning—as Lord Wynmore’s man was dozing in the hall of his master’s town house, waiting till he should return from Lady Etfington’s, he was aroused by a loud ring at the visitor’s bell. Somewhat startled —for he felt sure that the person who rang was not Lord Wynmore —the servant jumped up from his chair, nibbed his eyes and listened. After a little further hesitation, he slung the chain across the hall door, and then half opened it. “Is Lord Wynmore at home? I saw a light and rang,” said a young man’s voice. Something in the voice reassured Turner, and he opened the door, ready to answer the visitor with all courtesy; but scorn was his only feeling when he beheld a slight, boyish figure, so ill clad as to be almost in rags, evidently suffering from that sharpest of diseases—poverty. “Be Off with you!” said Turner, severely. “Do you know what you’re aboutringing at this time of night at noblemen’s houses? If you’re not out of sight when I look out again, I’ll send for the police!” —and Turner slammed the door in the face of the poverty-stricken visitor. At that moment Lord Wynmore was Approaching his own house—he was on foot, walking slowly, and in deep thought concerning the extraordinary events of the day. He had just left the house of his sister, who had, enough on her hands now, for she had not been prepared for Caroline’s arrival and for the agitating scene that was likely to follow. The strictest circumspection was also necessary for the next few hours, as, should the servants get any idea that Mabel, already an inmate of the house, was the Miss Charlford advertised for, they would be sure to send information to Charlford House in the hope of obtaining the promised reward of five hundred pounds; and it was not desirable that the least suspicion of what had happened should cause any alarm to the guilty man whose villainy had been so nearly crowned with success. Caroline therefore had not been told of Mabel’s proximity, and she was in such a state of utter prostration and grief that she was but too glad to keep her room and shun all eyes. “Find Dick —find my brother!” was all she said. “Yes, my dear; Neville will set every agency to work immediately,” replied Lady Effington. “All you have to do is to remain here perfectly quiet.” It was indeed all that the unhappy girl was capable of. She felt at that moment as if life was over for her, and that she could never again hold up her head. There was much for Neville to ponder as he turned from his sister’s door that night to seek his own roof. His heart was fnM of his dear betrothed and all her late sufferings. Was there any way m which he could spare her for the future? Was it possible that this case could be kept out of court? But there was a heavier weight pressing on Neville’s mind. Dick—where was Dick? How was he to be discovered? Every moment seemed an age till steps could be taken to reinstate him in hia rightful place. Alas! did the poor boy still live to be righted? And, as he pondered, Neville reached the broad square in which stood his own stately house. Good heavens! what a miserably clad young fellow was leaning against one of wi “ dotk " lumUv-

loosely on him, with the aspect even' in the dim light of having undergone much suffering! Neville felt a sudden desire to know what had brought him to such a pass, and turned to ask what he came for, when in a moment the young man sprang forward, clasping his hand. “To find you—you —that is what I came for! Alas, I cannot trust my own father!” “Dick!” cried Neville, almost taking him in his arms in a sudden access of joy, “is it you, Dick —you? Then all our troubles are nearly ended!”

CHAPTER XXIII. A strange torpor seemed to have seized the two men who had taken possession of Charlford House. John Charlford still remained in bed, kept there by the stronger will of his guilty companion. It wa6 about ten o’clock in the morning of the day next but one to that on which Caroline, but for Neville’s interruption, would have sacrificed her life's happiness, when a short, sharp knock was heard on the panel of the door, the door itself swung back, and Lord Wynmore entered. An instant of intense relief succeeded for both the men; then Filton advanced with a smile and with outstretched hand. “This is a pleasure unexpected and most welcome!” he cried, going to meet Neville. But the young lord gave no answering greeting, and his face was stern and cold. Too well Filton knew why, when another figure followed that of Lord Wynmore— Dick Charlford, a little rested now, well clothed instead of in rags, but bearing very plainly the marks of mental suffering and bodily fatigue. “Dick, Dick—is it you? How tortured I have been about you! Why did you go away?” faltered Filton. But Dick made no answer; he only turned and beckoned to some one in the corridor.

Three men entered, one of them closing the door behind them; but neither John Charlford nor Filton himself was conscious of tffe presence of more than one man—Lane. The sight of him took away the speech of both, horror striking even the defiant Filton dumb. As for Lane, he wore an easy smile of unconcern; it seemed as if he enjoyed the agony he was inflicting. “Morning,” he said, nodding to his former friends. “You did not expect to see me, lam well aware. However, this is an uncertain world, isn’t it?” “Why are you here?” Filton managed to articulate; but he was deadly pale—he knew now that something of the fearful' past had been disclosed. “Why am I here?” echoed Lane, with a sardonic smile. “Well, to tell the truth, I have been forced to come here. I would have kept faith with you if I could, but I am forced to look after myself. ‘Honor among thieves,’ is my motto; and I would have carried it out but for untoward circumstances. Why am I here? To explain why you are here, Filton —that’s about the truth. ’Tis of no use beating about the bush any longer. ’Twasn’t I that peached; all has been somehow discovered —all we believed so wonderfully hidden. The game is played out. I have been forced to turn queen’s evidence.” Dick and Neville exchanged glances—then Dick spoke. “Richard Filton,” said the young man, with deep emotion, “you have dared to usurp my dead father’s name and place—you have presumed to style yourself my father, and to carry on the deception for many years. Such an accusation is not vague, and the villainy will have to be sharply answered for. As to the evidence of your base deed, enough is in our hands. On the afternoon of the day on which you feigned to leave Charlford House for Frankfort in order to see a dying friend, my sister Mabel was induced to take from a drawer in the library a letter written in German —a letter containing allusions which explained all. She was startled, however, by your sudden entrance, and thrust the letter into the pocket of her dress, where, by a strange combination of circumstances, it lay uuthought of —hidden v—until she herself, immured by you in a lonely country cottage, a prisoner, and accounted insane by all her friends save one or two, drew the letter from that old dress, began to read, and discovered the startling truth. You would have driven her mad, could you have done go. Me you exiled friendless to a distant land. But your own hand has wrought your destruction. In sending that trunk to the cottage where you had immured Mabel, you furnished the clew to your well-hidden crime. Retribution has overtaken you, and you shall not escape it!” A mist seemed to float before Filton’s eyes; he stretched out his arms to steady himself by the wall, then tottered backward and fell senseless to the ground. But the troubled day was not yet over. There was much to do before and Neville could take rest—hasty arrangements to be completed for placing John Charlford in an asylum—at least temporarily—for the family medical adviser declared that he could not remain even for a day without the supervision given to the insane. Whether he would ever recover time must decide —at present he must be placed under restraint. Then there was the family solicitor to telegraph to, and the painful necessity of deciding what was to be done with Filton. Bad man as he had been, cruelly as he had used the power that he had so basely usurped, it was deeply repugnant to Dick to drag him through a criminal trial which could have but one termination —penal .servitude for life. The miserable culprit had not spoken since he had lost consciousness before his accuser. A detective officer kept watch over him in the gun room; and he who had been master at Charlford for so many years sat against the well, his eyes fixed upon the ground as the leaden hours went by, conscious that those who had been his own servants passed in and out eying him with contempt. Perhaps the bitterest moment of all was when a footman brought in a tray with refreshments for the officer and for hhnself. “Here,” said the servant, approaching him, “you’d better eat. You won’t have such fare where you are going.” As night came on, several persons entered the gun room. His late confederate, Lane, was led in between two men. That he perceived in the hasty glance he cast at the opening door; also that Lord Wynmore, with Dick, came in, followed by the family solicitor. These seated themselves by the table. Shortly afterward a footman carried in a lamp, and then the solicitor spoke. “Richard Filton,” he began, “yon have to hear the statement made by your partner in guilt, Horace Lane. It will now be read over to you in his presence, and yon will be asked if yon can refute it in any particular. Attend!” The lawyer stood up before the table—the very table at which Filton, acting as 'master, had been wont to give the Charlford headkeeper both his orders sad his

wages—and began to read what Lane had set down. Filton had sat with his head bent down and his arms crossed during the whole of the time occupied by the reading of nreconfession. As the lawyer ceased, he staggered to his feet and stretched out his hand to entreat a hearing. Involuntarily they all looked at him—his rigid, .ashen face and fixed eyes forming a picture of despair. “Suppose I were to sign a confession supporting what Lane has stated,” he said, in a voice hoarse and grating, as if he uttered the words with difficulty; “what would you do for me in my extremity? Nothing for nothing in this world, you know. Would you let me walk out of this place, and help me to land in New Zealand, giving me ten pounds to start with? Consider well before refusing—Miss Charlford’s name will necessarily be dragged into court, and her folly exposed, if I am brought to trial. Can you forego your vengeance in order to save her name and yours from the jeers of the British public? I put you in undisputed possession of your rights, acknowledge myself an impostor, and agree to let the law take its course if ever I set foot again in England.” Then, looking at Dock—“ Consult your solicitor, and let me know my fate.” After a short consultation the terms were agreed to and Filton sprang to his feet. “1 shall not stand in the felon’s dock after all!” he cried. ‘‘‘Here—give me food — I can eat now —and give me paper! You shall soon be quit of me!” They complied with his request, watching him all the time; and when midnight came the miserable man left the house which he had never had the right to enter. “So ends this part of the play!” he muttered, as the vehicle drove away in the darkness. * * * * * * * A year has nearly run its course. It is October now—a bright, fair October, bringing sunshiny days and pleasurable social gatherings in many country homes. Neville is beside Mabel, watching her with adoring eyes, as an unspeakable treasure restored to him. A lovely flush is on her face, a sweet rapture in her eyes. She is soon to link her fate now with that of her dear betrothed—indeed, Caroline has come back expressly for the wedding. Next week the bridal bells will ring their merriest, and Mab will begin her life as A’iscountess Wynmore. “Come and look at the stars —how bright they are to-night!” whispered Neville to Mabel, softly possessing himself of her hand, as the party rise from the table and are crossing the large hall. The lovers linger a moment or two behind the others, and Neville adds fondly; “This day next week we shall see the stars together on the shores of the Mediterranean, and you will be —rapturous thought—my wife!” Something of heavenly beauty irradiates Mab’s face as she responds to his words; “Here or there, what matters it to me now, Neville? “ ‘For where thou art is home to me, And home without thee cgnnot be!’ ” (The end.)