8
MAGAZINE SECTION
for Peace dealt mc so violent a blow tliHt
it sent me rolling lown the roof Into the
darkness. Antl as I tumbled headlong
from the ledge, the whole air seemed to
burst into fragments about me a mighty
concussion that left me, deafened, shaken,
bewildered, amongst the broken tiles and
falling fragments on the ground below.
I was In my most comfortable chair,
with old Jacob washing the cut on my
head, and the inspector's nimble fingers
twisting a bandage before I quite real
Iced that I had escaped that great explo
sion. Vaguely, as In a dream, I remem
bered that two men, presumably Peace
and the sergeant, had dragged me to my
feet, had knotted a handkerchief round
my head, had pushed me over the wall,
and finally lifted me into a passing cab
all with a mad haste as if It were we
who had been the criminals. Anyhow, I
was at home, which was of the first im
portance to me at the moment.
"What blew up, inspector?" I asked,
faintly.
"The dynamite hidden in the bust
but don't ask questions."
"Oh, I'm all right," I told him. "Do
explain things."
"I'll call tomorrow, and "
"No, tell me now, or I shall not sleep
a wink."
He looked at me a moment, with his
head cocked on one side after bis quaint
fashion.
"Very well," he said at last. "I'll tulk,
If you'll promise to keep quirt."
I promised, and he began.
"It's quite a simple 6tory. Nicolin
had got word that an attempt was to be
made on the Czar, who is due in Paris
the day after tomorrow, and that Amn-
roff was engineering the whole affair;
also the Russian was making no head
way, and he knew that his position was
at stake if he failed. So he got desper
ate, and took the game into his own
hands. He forced (Jreatman to fix a
rendezvous, brought up his men and
strangled Amaroff In the 'sanded parlor.
It was a smart thing to do, for no one
was likely to suspect them, especially as
he gave out that Amaroff was one of
bis own officers."
"But how did you locate the place
where the murder occurred?" I asked
feebly.
"It was raining last night do you re
member? "Yes."
"When I first arrived at the mortuary
I went over Amaroffs clothing. On the
soles of his hoots was a patch of dry
sand. Therefore he could not have walked
through the wet streets to the spot where
he was found. Also the sand must have
been on the floor where he last stood.
On the back of his coat was a slimy
smear mixed with the scales of mack
erel. If my first proposition was cor
rect, he must have been carried from the
place with the sanded floor; and the sug
gestion was that a fish barrow had been
used, a fisli barrow such as you may see
the I-ondon costers pushing before them
In their street sales. It was not likely
that the men Implicated would have
risked carrying hint further than was
necessary. That limited the radius of
the search. Indeed, we located the club
in under three hours."
"Of course it seems quite easy," I told
him. "But when did you first suspect
that Nicolin was lying?"
"His search of the studio was simply
a blind," he said. "I soon caught on to
that. Also in Amaroffs little bedroom
stood his luggage ready packed. He was
just off on a journey that was plain.
Nicolin had said nothing about a jour
ney, which was in itself suspicious. I
knew the Russian was not the bungler
he pretended to le, and I admit that I
was puzzled. Then you came along and
told me of the business with the key.
It was plain they were coming back but
why? It was to discover it that I left
three men to watch the studio while I
kept my appointment witli Jackson in
Maiden square. From what I learned
from him it was evident that Greatman
was a man who knew something; so I
tried a bluff on him. It's quite simple,
isn't it?"
"Oh, yes," I said; "but how did you
know Greatman was going to the studio
when he ran away?"
"Rather an unnecessary question, Mr.
Phillips, isn't it? Consider a minute.
Amaroff was a Nihilist; he was playing
a big game which means dynamite with
folks of their persuasion. He had been
knocked out of the running, but the dy
namite remained. And where? In the
studio where Nicolin was returning to
search for it; where Greatman also would
go to recover It if he desired to revenge
himself on Nicolin by carrying out his
friends' plot himself. Mark you, I do
not believe that originally he had any
active part in carrying out this assassi
nation. But when he heard how Nicolin
had fooled him, he was anxious to get
square by risking all and smuggling the
bombs to Paris himself. Moreover, Mr.
Phillips, I wanted to locate that dyna
mite. It is not well to have bombs float
ing about Iondon, ready to the hand of
well-bred lunatics. They breed interna
tional squabbles in which we, the police,
get jumped upon."
"And they were hidden In the bust?"
"A very good place, too. With care
ful packing, they would have got to
Paris safe enough. The Nero was a
known work of art. No one would have
suspected it for a moment. Of course, I
had no idea that the dynamite was stored
in the bronze till Greatman grabbed it,
and I saw his face. Then I punched you
in the chest and rolled after you my
self." "You saved my life, anyway," I said
gratefully.
"Tut, tut, Mr. Phillips, that's nothing.
Another day you may do the same for
me."
"If I get a chance," I told him. "But
what will be done now?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"I dragged you off to be away before
the crowd arrived. There was no point
in your being found in the neighborhood
and asked questions at the inquest on
what remains of their bodies. I shall
report to Scotland Yard, and Scotland
Yard will talk to the Foreign office, and
the Foreign Office will make polite rep
resentations to St. Petersburg, and every
thing will be hushed up. After all,
there's nobody left to punish and nobody
to pity, barring Greatman, who had the
makings of a man in him. Amaroff was
a romantic murderer, and Nicolin a prac
tical one; but neither of them were at all
the sort of people to encourage. So I
should advise you to keep quiet, Mr.
Phillips, and not talk of your adventure.
Do you agree?"
"Certainly," I said; and we shook
hands on it.
(The End.)
The Pilgrim
(Continued from Page 4.)
"We hoped to welcome you to the club
table," cried the Major.
"There are only the Major and my
self," added the Colonel, with courteous
entreaty, ,
"And the other the new man," cor
rected the Major, with a wry face.
"Oh, yes the bad rod. What's his
name?"
"Langham, said the Major.
The English maid came down to eon
duct her mistress to her rooms; the two
gentlemen bowed as their build permit
ted; t'nr bull-terrjer trotted behind his
mistress up the polished stairs. Pres
ently a door closed above.
"Devilish fine woman," said Major
Brent.
Colonel Hyssop went to u mirror and
examined himself with close attention.
"Good gad !" he said, irritably, "how
thin my hair is!"
"Thin !" said Major Brent, with an un
pleasant laugh; "thin as the hair on a
Mexican poodle."
"You infernal ass !" hissed the Colonel,
and waddled off to dress for dinner. At
the door he paused. "Better have no
hair than a complexion like a violet!"
"What's that?" cried the Major.
The Colonel slammed the door.
Upstairs the bull-terrier lay on a rug
watching his mistress with tireless eyes.
The maid brought tea, bread and but
ter, and trout friend crisp, for her mis
tress desired nothing else.
Left alone, she leaned back, sipping
her tea, listening to the million tiny
voices of the night. The stillness of the
night made her nervous after the clat
ter of town. Nervous? Was it the tran
quil stillness of the night outside that
stirred that growing apprehension In her
breast till, of a sudden, her heart began
a deadened throbbing?
Langham here? What was he doing
here? He must have arrived this morn
ing. So that was where be was going
when he said he was going north !
After all, in what did it concern her?
She had not run away from town to
avoid hii indeed not, . . . her pil
grimage was her own affair. And Lang
ham would very quickly divine her pious
impulse in coming here. . . , And he
would doubtless respect her for it. , . .
Perhaps have the subtle tact to pack up
his traps and leave. , . . But probably
not. . . . She knew a little about Lang
ham, ... an obstinate and typical man,
. , . doubtless selfish to the core, . . .
cheerfully, naively selfish. . , ,
She raised her troubled eyes. Over
the door was printed in gilt letters
THE PRESIDENT'S SUITE.
Tears filled her eyes; truly they were
kindly and thoughtful, these old friends
of her husband.
And all night long she slept in the
room of her late husband, the president
of the Sagamore Angling Club, and
dreamed till daybreak of . . . Langham.
Langham, clad in tweeds from head
to foot, sat on the edge of his lied.
He had been sitting there since day
break, and the expression on his orna
mental face had varied lietween the blank
and the idiotic. That the only woman
in the world had miraculously apMared
at Sagamore Iodge he had heard from
Colonel Hyssop and Major Brent at din
ner the evening before.
That she already knew of his presence
there he could not doubt. That she did
not desire his presence he was fear
somrly Jersuaded.
Clearly he must go not at onee, of
course, to leave behind him a possibility
for gossip at his abrupt departure. From
the tongues of infants and well-fed club
men, good Lord deliver us!
He must go. Meanwhile he could easily
avoid her.
And as he sat there, savoring all the
pent-up bitterness poured out for him by
destiny, there came a patter of padded
feet In the hallway, the scrape of nails,
a sniff at the door-sill, a whine, a frantic
scratching. He leaned forward and opened
the door. His Highness landed on the
bed with one hysterical yelp and fell
upon Langham, paw and muzzle.
When their affection had been tempo
rarily satiated, the dog lay down on the
led, his eyes riveted on his late master,
and the man went over to his desk, drew
a sheet of club paper toward him, found
a pen, and wrote t
"Of course it is an unhappy coinci
dence, and I will go when I can do so
decently tomorrow morning. Meanwhile
I shall be away all day fishing the West
Branch, and shall return too late to dine
at the club table.
"I wish you a happy sojourn here "
This he reread anil scratched out.
"I am glad you kept His Hnghness."
This be also scratched out.
After a while he signed his name to
the note, sealed it, and stepped into the
hallway.'
At the farther end of the passage the
door of her room was ajar; a sunlit
scarlet curtain hung inside.
"Come here!" said Langham to the
dog.
His Highness came with a single leap.
"Take it to . . . her," said the man,
under his breath. Then he turned
sharply, picked up rod and creel, and
descended the stairs.
Meanwhile His Highness entered his
mistress's chamber, with a polite scratch
as a "by your leave!" and trotted up to
her, holding out the note in his pink
mouth.
She looked at the dog in astonishment.
Then the handwriting on the envelope
caught her eye.
(Continued on Page 9.)