Genre Mystery & Crime. Page - 5

rth of Italylike the plague; Venice and Genoa withered at the touch of this swarthyill-nourished boy. He cowed the soldiers in the field, and he outwittedthe statesmen in the council chamber. With a frenzy of energy he rushedto the east, and then, while men were still marvelling at the way inwhich he had converted Egypt into a French department, he was back againin Italy and had beaten Austria for the second time to the earth. Hetravelled as quickly as the rumour of his coming; and where he camethere were new victories, new combinations, the crackling of old systemsand the blurring of ancient lines of frontier. Holland, Savoy,Switzerland--they were become mere names upon the map. France waseating into Europe in every direction. They had made him Emperor, thisbeardless artillery officer, and without an effort he had crushed downthose Republicans before whom the oldest king and the proudest nobilityof Europe had been helpless. So it came about that we, who watched himdart from place to pla

n purple ink beneath the name and address of Mynheer van Urutius ... that was all.

My heart sank with disappointment and wretchedness as I read the inscription.

Here is the document:

* * * * *

Herr Willem van Urutius, Automobilgeschäft, Nymwegen. Alexandtr-Straat 81 bis.

Berlin, Iten Juli, 16.

O Eichenholz! O Eichenholz! Wie leer sind deine Blätter.

Wie Achiles in dem Zelte.

Wo zweie sich zanken Erfreut sich der Dritte.

* * * * *

(Translation.)

Mr. Willem van Urutius, Automobile Agent, Nymwegen. 81 bis Alexander-Straat.

Berlin, 1st July, 16.

O Oak-tree! O Oak-tree, How empty are thy leaves.

Like Achiles in the tent.

When two people fall out The third party rejoices.

* * * * *

I stared at this nonsensical document in silence. My thoughts were almost too bitter for words.

At last I spoke.

"What's all this rigmarole got to do with Francis, Dicky?" I aske

remain unsettled for an instant. Though she had passed out before my eyes in a drooping, almost agonised condition, not she, dear as she was, and great as were my fears in her regard, was to be sought out first, but the man! The man who was back of all this, possibly back of my disappointment; the man whose work I may have witnessed, but at whose identity I could not even guess.

Leaving the window, I groped my way along the wall until I reached the rack where the man's coat and hat hung. Whether it was my intention to carry them away and hide them, in my anxiety to secure this intruder and hold him to a bitter account for the misery he was causing me, or whether I only meant to satisfy myself that they were the habiliments of a stranger and not those of some sneaking member of the club, is of little importance in the light of the fact which presently burst upon me. The hat and coat were gone. Nothing hung from the rack. The wall was free from end to end. She had taken these articles of male apparel wit

The outer door was locked and he paused on the sidewalk, wondering how to get in.

This problem was settled for him as a woman crossed the small entrance and pushed open the ground glass door. She was blond, with the enameled finish of Max Factor and the House of Westmore, neatly turned out. She gave Lennox a speculative look, but he was too busy catching the door to give her more than a passing glance.

The entry was small and tiled. An automatic elevator and a stairway which looped like a climbing snake around the cage offered a choice. He chose the elevator and rode upward in the little car with a faint accompanying sense of claustrophobia.

The girl who opened the door was small and very dark. It startled him. He was so used to blondes. She said: "Yes?" impatiently, as if she dared him to give a good excuse for knocking on the door.

She wore a flowered housecoat with a long zipper up the front, and from the way the coat fitted he judged that there could be little underneath.

nk well enough of it to write it up."

"Go on!" I said. "I'll whack up with you square and honest."

"Which is more than either Watson or Bunny ever did with my father or my grandfather, else I should not be in the business which now occupies my time and attention," said Raffles Holmes with a cold snap to his eyes which I took as an admonition to hew strictly to the line of honor, or to subject myself to terrible consequences. "With that understanding, Jenkins, I'll tell you the story of the Dorrington Ruby Seal, in which some crime, a good deal of romance, and my ancestry are involved."

II THE ADVENTURE OF THE DORRINGTON RUBY SEAL

"Lord Dorrington, as you may have heard," said Raffles Holmes, leaning back in my easy-chair and gazing reflectively up at the ceiling, "was chiefly famous in England as a sporting peer. His vast estates, in five counties, were always open to any sportsman of renown, or otherwise, as long as he was a true sportsman. So open, indeed, was the house that

he point of retiring for the night, when two men suddenly made their appearance before him, and accosted him by name. He immediately sprang to his feet with a cry of welcome.

"I had made up my mind that you were not coming," he said as they shook hands.

"The old tub didn't get in until a quarter to nine," the taller of the two new-comers replied. "When did you arrive?"

"This afternoon," said Hayle, and for a moment volunteered no further information. A good poker-player is always careful not to show his hand.

"I suppose this place is not full?" inquired the man who had last spoken.

"Full?" asked Hayle scornfully. "It's full of cockroaches and mildew, if that's what you mean?"

"The best company we could possibly have," said the taller man. "Cockroaches and blackbeetles don't talk and they don't listen at keyholes. What's more, if they trouble you, you can put your heel on them. Now let's see the landlord and see what he's got to offer us in the way of rooms. We don't w

his cook-book a narrow stairway rose on each side,running up to the gallery. Behind these stairs a short flightof steps led to the domestic recesses. The visitor foundhimself ushered into a small room on the left, where a grateof coals glowed under a dingy mantelpiece of yellowish marble.On the mantel stood a row of blackened corn-cob pipes and a canisterof tobacco. Above was a startling canvas in emphatic oils,representing a large blue wagon drawn by a stout white animal--evidently a horse. A background of lush scenery enhanced the forcefultechnique of the limner. The walls were stuffed with books.Two shabby, comfortable chairs were drawn up to the iron fender,and a mustard-coloured terrier was lying so close to the glow that asmell of singed hair was sensible.

"There," said the host; "this is my cabinet, my chapel of ease.Take off your coat and sit down."

"Really," began Gilbert, "I'm afraid this is----"

"Nonsense! Now you sit down and commend your soul to Providenceand the kitc

any young girl can stomach the life at Clinch's."

"It's a wonder what a decent woman will stand," observed Stormont. "Ninety-nine per cent. of all wives ought to receive the D. S. O."

"Do you think we're so rotten?" inquired Lannis, smiling.

"Not so rotten. No. But any man knows what men are. And it's a wonder women stick to us when they learn."

They laughed. Lannis glanced at his watch again.

"Well," he said, "I don't believe anybody has tipped off our man. It's noon. Come on to dinner, Jack."

They cantered forward into the sunlit clearing. Star Pond lay ahead. On its edge stood Clinch's.

III

Clinch, in his shirt sleeves, came out on the veranda. He had little light grey eyes, close-clipped grey hair, and was clean shaven.

"How are you, Clinch," inquired Lannis affably.

"All right," replied Clinch; "you're the same, I hope."

"Trooper Stormont, Mr. Clinch," said Lannis in his genial way.

"Pleased to know you," said Clinch, le

her head, my name is not Jeremiah Bates."

"You mean the French maid?"

"Why, yes, of course. I take it there's little doubt but what she performed the double duty of unlocking the safe and the window too. You see I look at it this way, Miss Brooke: all girls have lovers, I say to myself, but a pretty girl like that French maid, is bound to have double the number of lovers than the plain ones. Now, of course, the greater the number of lovers, the greater the chance there is of a criminal being found among them. That's plain as a pikestaff, isn't it?"

"Just as plain."

Bates felt encouraged to proceed.

"Well, then, arguing on the same lines, I say to myself, this girl is only a pretty, silly thing, not an accomplished criminal, or she wouldn't have admitted leaving open the safe door; give her rope enough and she'll hang herself. In a day or two, if we let her alone, she'll be bolting off to join the fellow whose nest she has helped to feather, and we shall catch the pair of the