The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 23, 1905, Page 7

— . . —————————————————————————————————————————— o f the photograph whom we prisoner to whom attention. he was en- examining that d brought fr ving ! house, a jovial, and grousers, pre- Brown, I suppose?” said 1 10 doubt are Sher- the note which e express messenger, and what you tol t you will reshment.”” anxious been ere all four upon Yot a word would h red at us s matted hair, d seemed with- t it Jike a d long enough learn that a revealed nothing a long sheath h bore copious 1 Lestrade, as ows all these gen- a name to him. ¥ of the Mafla But I'm sure Mr. in yen NOw that I am a little s were awkward out a bust that is etter here. You said, ess a copy of Devine’s 4 am prepared to pay you which is In your pes- right?” @5 d from Page 2.) utterance like one h liquor. It conveyed an everybody within hearing v punch. Laughter from outside a flutter of rts and a masculine , and e less brute came from ldn’t have believed it! er a fierce ejaculation, Gor- de to the window and gazed The singer broke off the song ¥ always warble, hen I'm my cups. I y wife—when I was a a London cicibeo oman.” across the sill ful fascination was witness- ng, vulgar travesty of him- the George Gordon he was, in e had ever bee but the jordon the world believed him; igate of wassail ana tou s boasted of whom the elev- t had been promul- ish womankind—not to And this counterpart ed by a man whose face he knew—a man path at Geneva, ane Clermont by er effrontery of the deception w deep was that hatred. Gor- retood now how Tita had his presence at the osteria be- entered it. The farceur in- side know the man he imper- ght. This, B ary at » burles had been played. re these tourists smirking in the , or listening open-mouthed b the clumsy farrago, the only c « n to England with clack- ing tor This was how the London papers had bristled with garbled inven- t This scene was only a step in a nt plan to blacken his name anew throughout the highways of con- tinental travel! A guttural whisper escaped his lips. 3 be another bar between him on of Allegra. And Te- post-house tales reached A crimson mist grew before nes her ears! his eyes. e reckless and profane empha- come now to the carouser with- {e had risen and approached the window, simulating as he walked &n gwkward limp. A m “I was very much surprised at yuur letter, for I could not imagine how ycu knew that I owned such a thing.” ““Of course, you must have been sur- prised, but the explanation is very simple. Mr. Harding of Hardlng Broth- ers said that they had sold you their last copy and he gave me your ad- dress.” “Oh, that was it, was it? Did he tell you what I paid for it?” “No, he did not.” “Well, I ath an honest maa, theugh not a very rich one. I only gave 15 shillings for the bust, and I think you ought to know that before I take 10 from you.” “I am sure the scruple does y¢u honor, Mr. Sandeford. But I have nav;l(—d that price, so I intend to stick to it T ¥ BAZ SO NIEHT TN B2 s G DO 7HI7 L DEVER o2 OO FIV7 57725, “Take a greeting to England, you globe-trotters! Greeting from Venice, the sea-Sodom, to London! Hell is not paved with its good intentions. Slabs of lava, with its parsons’ damned souls for cement, make a better causeway for Satan's corso!” . Again he turned to his fellows In the taproom: “When I shuffie oft be like the rascals to dump Westminster Abbey. If they do, I'll save them the trouble of the epitaph. I've written it myself: George Gordon lies here, peer of Nottingham- re, rted and banished inside of & year. arriage he made, being too,much for He could not carry off—so he's now carri-on! “Westminster Abbe; said a man's bass in disgust. Gordon’s left hand reached and grasped the sill. His face was con- vulsed. His right hand went to his breast pocket At that instant, from behind him, a touch fell on his arm and stayed it. “A jetter, Excellence.” He turned with a long, shuddering breath, and took what Tita handed him. “I understand, Tita,” he answered, with an effort. The other nodded and disappeared. For a moment Gordon stood motion- less. Then he passed from the arbor, through the hedges, to the spot whither the gondolier had led him two hours before. He sat down on the turf and buried his face in his-hands. He had scarcely known what shape- less, lurid thing had leaped up in his soul as he gazed through the window, but the touch on his arm had told him. For the moment the pressure had seemed Teresa's hand, as he had felt it on the path at San Lazarro, when the same red mist had swum before his eyes. Then it had roused a swift sense of shame; now the memory did more. The man yonder he had injured. There had been a deed of shame and dastard cowardice years before in Greece—yet what had he to do with the boy’s act? By what right had he, that night in Geneva, judged the other’s motive to- ward Jane Clermont? Had his. own been so pure a one then? Because of & fancied wrong, Trevanion had dogged him to Switzerland. Because of a real one he dogged him now. After a time Gordon raised his head and stared out into the moonlight. “It is past,” he said aloud and with com- posure, “It shall never tempt me again! ‘What comes to me thus I myself have béckoned. I will not try to avert it by vengeance. The Great Mechanism that mixed the elements in me to make me what I am shall have its way!” He rose slowly and walked back to- ward the osteria. A groom was wash- ing out the empty diligence. He sent him for his borse, and in a few mo- ments was in the saddle, riding toward Venice through the silent, glimmering streets of Ravenna. A new, nascent tenderness was in “Well, it is very handsome of you, Mr. Holmes. I brought the bust up with me, as you asked me to do. Here it is!” He gpened his bag, and at last we saw placed upon our table a com- plete specimen of that bust which we had already seen more than once M fragments. Holmes took a paper from his pocket and laid 2 £10 note upon the table. “You will kindly sign that paper, Mr. Sandeford, in the presence of tnese witnesses. It is simply to say that you transfer every possible right that you ever had in the bust to me. I am a methodical man, you see, and you never know what turn events might teke afterward. Thank you, Mr. Sandeford; here is your money, and I wish you a very good evening.” When our ‘visitor had disappeared, him. He was riding fronr her, the one woman he loved—to see her when and where? Should he ever see her again? She might have hope of relief in the letter he carried, but who could tell if it would succeed? And in the mean- time she was alone, as she had been alone before. He rode on, his chin sunk on his breast, scarcely observing a coach of six" white horses that passed him, driven in the opposite direction. CHAPTER XXXVIL Trevanion Finds an Ally. Trevanion, the drunkenness slipped from his face and the irksome limp discarded, came from the osteria door. His audience dwindled, he was minded for fresh air and a stroll. Behind the red glow of his cigar his dark face wore a smile. Just at the fringe of the follage two stolid figures in servants’ livery stepped before him. Startled, he drew vack. Two others stood behind him. He looked from side to side, pale with sudden anticipation, his lips drawn back like a lynx at bay. He was weaponless. . A fifth figure joined the circle that hemmed him—Paolo, suave, smiling, Corsican. “Magnificence!” he said in respect- ful Ttalian, “I bear the salutations of a gentleman of Ravenna, who begs your presence at his house to-night.” Without waiting answer, he called softly, and a coach with six white horses drew slowly from the shadow. For an instant Trevanion smiled in grim humor, half deceived. A simul- taneous movement of the four in livery, however, recalled his distrust. “Are these his bravos?” he inquired in surly defiance. “His servants, Magnificence!"” “Carry my excuses then—and bid him mend the manner of his invita- tions.” “I should regret to have to convey such a message from the milord.” Paolo opened the coach door as he spoke. The inference was obvious. Trevanion glanced swiftly over his shoulder toward the still hostelry. His first sound of alarm might easily be throttled. At any rate, he reflected, these were not the middle ages. To the owner of this equipage he was an English lord, and lords were not kid- naped and stilettoed, even in Italy. Some wealthy Ravennese, perhaps, not openly to flout public disapproval, chose thus to gratify his curiosity. An- ticipating refusal, he had taken this method of urbane constraint. Well, perforce, he would see the adventure through! He shrugged his shoulders and entered the coach. Paolo seated himself and the Horses started at a swinging trot. Through the windows Trevanion could discern the forms of the men servants running alongside. He sat silent, his compan- ion vouchsafing no remark till the carriage stoppéd and they alighted at the open portal of a massive structure fronting the paved street. It was Casa Guiccioll. B The Corsican led the way in and the Sherlock Hclmes' movements were such as to rivet our attention, He began by taking a clean white cloth from a drawer and laving it over the table. Then he placed his newly acquired bust in the center of the cloth. Final- 1y he picked up his hunting crop #nd struck Napoleon a sharp blow on the top of the head. The figure broke into fragments and Holmes bent eagerly over the shattered remains. Next in- stant, with a loud shout of triumph he held up one splinter, in which a round, dark object was fixed like a plum in a pudding. “Gentlemen,” he cried, “let me intro- duce you to the famous black pearl of the Borgias.” Lestrade and I sat silent for a mo- ment and thap, with a spontaneous impulse, we both broke out clapping, servants disappeared. With a word Paolo also vanished and the man so strangely introduced gazed about him. The hall was walled with an arras tapestry of faded antique richness, hung with uncouth weapons., Opposite ascended a broad, dimly lighted stair- Wway holding niches of tarnished armor, Wealth with penuriousness showed everywhere. Could this whimsical duress be the audacity of some self- willed dama, weary of her cavaliere servente and scheming thus to gain a romantic tete-a-tete with the famed and defamed personage he had cari- catured that day? Trevanion stole soft- ly to the arras, wrenched a Malay kriss from a clump of arms and slipped it under his coat. A moment later his guide reappeared. Up the stair, along a tiled and gilded hall, he followed him to a wide stanza. A door led from this, at which Paolo knocked. As it opened the compelled %guest caught a glimpse of the interior, set with mirrors and carved furniture, paneled and ornate with the delicate traceries of brush and chisel. In the room stood two figures—a man bent from age, his face blazing with the watchfires of an unbalanced purpose, and a woman, young, lovelv, dis- traught. She wore a dressing gown, and her gold hair fell uncaught about her shoulders, as though she had been summoned in haste to a painful au- dience. Her eyes, on the man, were fixed In an expression of fearful won- der. One hand was pressed hard against her heart. Trevanion had never seen either before; what did they want with him? “Your guest,” the threshold. “What do you mean to do?” cried the girl in frantic fear. “He is a noble of England! You dare not harm him!"” “I am a noble of Romagna!” grated the old man. It was the real George Gordon they expected—not he! Trevanion was smil- ing as Paolo spoke to him. With a hand on the blade he concealed he strode forward past him into the room. “Your servant, signore,” said he, as the door closed behind him. There was a second of silence, broken by a snarl from the old Count and a cry from Teresa—a sob of relief. She leaned against the wall, in the reaction suddenly faint. Her husband's sum- mons had filled her with apprehension —for she recalled the sound in the shrubbery—and his announcement, full of menace to Gordon, had shaken her mettle of resistance. She remembered an old story of a hired assassin whis- pered of him when she was a child. At the insane triumph and excitement in his manner she had been convinced and frightened. Terror had seized her anew —the shivering terror of him #hat had come to her on the monastery path and that her after-resentment had allayed. Now, however, her fear calmed, in- dignation at what’she deemed a ruse to compel an admission of concern that had but added to her husband’s fury, sent the blood back to her cheeks. All the repressed feeling that his cumula- announced Paolo on THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. as at the well-wrought crisis of a play. A flush of color sprang to Holmes’ pale cheeks and he bowed to us like the master dramatist who receives the homage of his audience. It was at such moments that for an instant he ceaged to be a reasoning machine gnd betrayed his human love for admfta- tlon and applause. The same singu- larly proud and reserved nature which turned away with disdain from popu- lar notoriety was capable of being moved to its depths by spontaneous wonder and praise from a friend. “Yes, gentlemen,” said he, “it is the most famous pearl now existing in the world, and it has been my good for- tune, by a connected chain of induc- tive reasoning, to trace it from the Prince of Colonna’s bedroom at the Dacre Hotel, where it was lost, to the tive humiliations had aroused burst their bonds. She turned on him with quivering speech: “Evviva, signore!” she said -bitterly. “Are you not proud to have frightened a woman by this valorous trick? Have you other comedies to garnish the evening? Non importa—I leave them for your guest.” Trevanion's face wore a smile of rel- ish as she swepot from the room. He was certajn now of two things. The old man hated George Gordon; the girl —was she daughter or wife?—did not. Had he unwittingly stumbled upon a chapter in the life of the man he trailed which he had not known? He seated himself with coolness, his in- herent dare-deviltry flaunting to the surface. Through the inflamed brain of the master of the casa,.as he stared at him with his hawk eyes, were crowd- ing suspicions. Paolo’s description had made him certain of the identity of the man in the garden. But his com- mand to his secretary had named only the milord at the osteria. That the two were one and the same Paolo could not have known—otherwise he would not have brought another. But how had he been decelved? How, unless the man before him was a confeder- ate—had played the other’s part at the inn? It was a decoy, so the lover of his wife, with less .isk in the amour, might laugh in his sleeve at him, the hoodwinked husband, the richest noble in Romagna! His lean fingers twitched. “May I ask,” he queried, wetting his lips, ‘““what the real milord—who is also in town to-day—pays you for filling his * place to-night?” Possessed as he was, his host could not mistake the other’s unaffected sur- prise. Before the start he gave, sus- picion of collusion shredded thin. “He is in Venice,” said Trevanion. “He came to Ravenna this after- noon."” His enemy there? Trevanion re- meémbered the laugh of the woman in the wagonette. Jane Clermont had mocked him! - She lied! She had come there to meet Gordon, Vicious passion gathered on his brow, signs readily translatable, that glozed the old man's anger with dawning calculation. “You have acted another’s role to- night,” Count Guiccioli said, leaning across the table, “and done it well, I judge, for my secretary is no fool. I confess to a curiosity to know why you chose to appear as the milord for whom I waited.” Trevanion’s malevolence leaped in his answer: “Because I hate him! And hate him more than you! In Italy I can add to the reputation he owns al- ready in England! I want his name to blacken and blistér wherever it is spok- en! That's why!” The Count made an exclamation, as through his fevered blood the idea of the truth raced swiftly. The town loungers had gaped at the osteria to sec the carousal of the milord—so Paolo had sald. Why, it was as good as a play! - He smiled—and thought further: . The Englishman had been in Ra- interfor of thls, the last of the six busts of Napoleon which were manu- factured by Gelder & Co. of Stepney. You will remember, Lestrade, the sen- sation caused by the disappearance of this valuable jewel and the vain ef- forts of the London police to recover it. I was myself consulted upon the case, but I was unable to throw any light upon it. Suspicion fell upon the maid of the Princess, who was an Itallan, and it was proved that she had a brother in London, but we failed to trace any connection between them. The maid's name was Lucretia Venuccl, and there is no doubt in my mind that this Pietro who was mur- dered two nights ago was the brother. 1 have been lcoking up the dates in the old tiles of the paper and I find that the disappearance of the pearl was ex- venna and had eluded his grasp. Here before him was youth, clever and un- scrupulous; if less cunning, yet bolder —a hatred antedating his own—a ready tool. Who could tell to what use such an ally might be put? The suggestion fascinated him. He laughed a splin- tered treble as he rang the bell sharply for his secretary. “A’ bottle of Amontillado!” he com- manded. “My good Paolo, we drink a health to the guest of the casa.” As the secretary disappeared Tre- vanion drew the kriss from beneath his coat and handed it to its owner. “A pretty trifle,” he said ceolly; “I took' the liberty of admiring it as I waited. T quite forgot to replace it.” “My dear friend!" protested the Count, pushing it back across the table, “I rejoice that you should fancy one of my poor possessions! I pray you accept it. Who knows? You may one day find a use for the plaything!"” They sat late over the wine. They were still conversing when a win- dow in the casa overlooking the garden opened = and Teresa's face looked out. Her straining ‘emo had left her trembling. Who was the swarthy, flerce-eyed man? At the first sight of him she had felt an in- stinctive recoil. But her puzzle fell away as she gazed out into the soft night with its peace and somnolent incense. From the garden below, where she and Gor- don had sat, came the beat of a night- bixd bending the poppies. Overhead tiny “pale clouds drifted like cherry- blossoms in the breeze. Far off the moon dropped closer to the velvet clasp of the legend-haunted hills. To- night, foreboding seemed treason while her heart held that one meeting, as the sky the stars, inalienable, etergal. Gordon was safe, on his way to Venice, and with him was her letter—on ‘which hung her hope for a papal sepa- ration—all that was possible under the seneschalship of Rome. At length she closed the shutter, knelt at the ivory crucifix that hung in a corner of the raftered chamber, and crept into bed. She fell asleep with a curl—the one he had kissed—drawn across her lips, CHAPTER XXXVIL . The Heart of a Woman. From the coming of Gordon on that unforgottable night to the garden, Teresa’s. pulse began - to beat more tumultuously. To offset the humilia- tion of her daily life indoors and the tireless surveillance in the person of Paolo of well-nigh her every excur- sion, she had the buoyant memory of that hour and the promise of her ap- peal to the Church’s favor. The three essentials of woman's existence—love, hope and. purpose—were now hers in spite of all. More than one new problem per- turbed her. There was the swarthy visitor coming and goihg mysteriously, closeted with her husband weekly. His strange entrance into the casa that day of all days—the stranger ruse that had been practiced through him upon her— actly two days before the arrest of Beppo for some crime of vicleace—an event which took place in the factory of Gelder & Co., at the very moment when these busts were being made. Now you clearly see the sequence of events, though you see them, of course. in the inverse order to the way I which they presented themselves to me. Beppe had the pear! in his possession. He may have stolen it from Pletro, e may have been Pietro’s confederate, he may have been the go-between of Pletro and his sister. It is.of no con- sequence to us which is the correct so- lution. “The main fact is that he had the pearl, and at that moment, when It was on his person, he was pursued by the police. He made for the factory in which he worked, and he knew that he had only a few minufes in which to conceal this enormc valuable prizse, which would otherwise be found on him when he was rched. x plaster casts of Napoleon were drying in the passage. One of them was still soft. In an instant Beppo, a skillful work- man, made a small hole in the wet plaster, dropped in the pearl, and with a few touches covered over the aper- ture once more. It was an admirable hiding-place. No one could possibly find it. But Beppo was condemned to a yeur's imprisonme and in the meanwhile His six bu were scattered over London. He could not tell whi contained his treasure. Only by break- ing them could he see. Even shaking would tell him nothing. for as the pias- ter was wet {t was probable that the pearl would adhere to it—as, in fagt, it +has done. Be t despair, and he conducted his h with consid- erable ingenuity and rance. Through a cousin who works with Gelder he found out the retail firms who had bought the ts. He man- aged to find empl t with Morse Hudson, and in that way tracked dewn three of them. The pearl was not there. Then, with the help of some Itallan employe, he succeeded in find« ing out where the other three busts had gone. The first was at Harker's. There he was dogged by his confederate, who held Beppo respousible for the loss of the pearl, and he stabbed him in the scuffie which followed.” “If he was his confederate why should he carry his photograph?” I asked. “As & means of tracing him if he wished to inquire about him from any third person. That was the obvious reason. Well, after the murder I cal- culated that Beppo would prebably hurry rather than delay his move- ments. He would fear that the police would read his secret, and so he hastened on before they should get ahead of him. Of course, I could not say that he had not found the pearl in Harker's bust. I had net even con- cluded for certain that it was the pearl, but it was evident to me that he was looking for something, since he carried the bust past the other houses In or- der to break it in the garden, which had & lamp overlooking it. Since Har ker's bust was one in _ three, the chances were exactly as I told you— two to one against the pearl belng In- side it. There remained two busts, and it was obvious that he would go for the London one first. 1 warned the In« mates of the house, o as to avold a second tragedy, and we went down with the happiest resuits. ‘By that time, of course, I knew for certaln that it was the Borgla pearl that we were after. The name of the murdered man linked the onme event with the other. There only remained a single bust—the Reading one—and the pearl must be there. I bought it In your presence from ths owner—and there it lies.” ‘We sat In silence for & moment. “Well,” sald Lestrade, “I've seen you handle a good man but I don't know more workmaniike We'ra not jealous of you at Scotland Yard. No, sir; we are very proud of you, and if you come down to-morrow gthere’'s not & man, from the oldest in- spector to the youngest constable, who wouldn't be glad to shake you by the hand.” “Thank cased, Mr. Holmes, hat I ever knew a one than that, “Thank you,” sald Holmes, you,” and as he turned away it seemed to me that he was more nearly moved by the softer human emotions than I had ever seen him. A moment later he ‘was the cold and practical thinker once more. “Put the pearl in the safe, ‘Watson,” sald he, “and get out the papers of the Conk-Singleton forge: case. Good-by, Lestrade. If any lttl problem comes your way I shall be happy, if I can, to give you & hint oz two as to its solution.” (The End) R B N R B B R R N B N B R B B B R R B N T B N B B B B B B B B D B D B N s N B N N S B S B B S0 0 S S S S0 S SIS SN SN SOOI e CASTAWAY seemed to connect him in some oceult, uncanny way with the man of whem, every hour of day and night, she mused and ned. Thinking of this, and w her husband's hatred, at fi oped Gorden would not return to Ravenna. There had befallen another matter, too, which seemed to have absorbed much of the old Count’s attention, and which, to her relief, took him from the city for days at a time. Teresa knew what this matter was. In every visit to her father he had talked of triumphantly—the rising of the Italian peobnles and the break- ing of the gailing yoke of Austria. During this spring strange rumors had prevailed. Twice, morning had found placards posted on the city walls: “Up with the republic!” and “Down with the Pope!” The foreign police were busy; houses were search- ed and more than one Ravennese was seized under suspicion of membership in the Carbonari, whose mystic free- masonry* had the secrets of enrolling bands and stores of powder. Knowl= edge of the sycophant part her huse band was currently suspected of play ing came to Teresa bit by bit, in side- long looks, as her carriage rolled through the tqwn and more definitely from Tita. The Austrian wind blew strongest and Count Guiccioli trimmed his sails accordingly. But replete with its one Image, Tere- sa’s heart left small space to these things. Gordon's face flushed her whole horizon. And as the empty weeks lnk- ed on, she began, in spite of her fears, to long passionately to see him agair. That her letter had reached its destina- tion she knew, for the Contessa Albrizaf paused an hour for a visit of state at the casa—on her way to Rome. But no word came from its bearer, and each day Tita returned from the osteria messageless. She could not guess the struggle that had torn Gordon—tke struggle between reasoning conscience and unreasoning desire—or how flercely, the letter onee delivered by Fletcher, he had fought down the longing to return to Ravenna, which held his child, afd her. He had been able to aid her once, prompted Desire: she might need him again. If he stayed away in her trouble, what would she deem him? Suppese by chance she should hear of the orgy he had witnessed at the osteria? This re- flection maddened him. “Yet™ answered, “not to see her is the onmly safety. She is unhappy now; but can I—because life is ended for me—to bring her comfort, run the risk of em- bittering her life further?” So he had, argued. There came a week for Teresa when Paolo was summoned to whither her husband had gone two days before. The espionage of the casa relaxed, and on her birthday, with Tita on the box, she drove alome through the afterncon forest to the Bagnaca- vallo convent with a gift for the er Superior, the only mother her hood had Known. (Continted Next Week)