The Stourbridge Observer, Cradley Heath, Halesowen & District Chronicle.
Stourbridge, West Midlands, England, 1887-05-21 00:00:00

SATURDAY, MAY 21, 1887,

v, -7r

A. strong pressure on this caused the panel to slide
back, revealing the interior of a small room which
occupied the space between the wall of the tower and
that of the house, which was given to the staircase in
the rear of Adrienne's room. Victor stepped into it,
and by the dim light that fell from the outer apart-
ment examined its contents. He saw from the broken
retorts, empty jars, and other fragments of a chemical
apparatus, that it had once been fitted up as a labora-
tory.
There was a door of communication with the room
beyond, but it was securely fastened, and there was
no window or other if perture by which the existence
of this nook could be detected from the outside of the
building.
That M. Lecour was entirely ignorant of this en-
trance to his sanctum he could well believe, and
Victor examined it with as much accuracy as the im-
perfect light, would permit. He found one of the wax
candles, which had evidently been removed from the
picture-room, and a bottle of phosphorus by its side
showed the means used to light it.
Carefully closing the door behind him, and replacing
the broken picture as well as circumstances permitted,
Vernay again ascended the staircase to speak with
the priest before leaving Bellair. He remembered the
caution he had just received, and determined that not
even to a father in the church would it be prudent to
be communicative in the present crisis of his affairs.
When he came into the chamber of M. Lecour, he
found him sleeping, and the priest kneeling beside him
repeating a form of exorcism, while he held the cross
with thl sculptured figure of Christ upon it, above the
head of the sick man. As soon as he discovered the
return of the stranger, he arose and said—
"I am trying to remove the evil spirit that has
haunted this miserable man through life. It is my
duty as a Christian priest to pray for him, but there are
such wrongs to be atoned for that my nature at moments
almost rebels against the task I have imposed upon my-
self. His hand has been raised against every one, and it
will be almost cheating purgatory to let him pass
lightly through it."
He spoke with such stern bitterness that the listener
knew some great warfare was going on in his heart.
What it was, or whence it originated, Du Vernay could
not tell, so he merely said—
"I am about to seek the residence of Dr. Brunel,
and I shall be glad to have such directions aq will
enable me to find it without delay."
When you get to the overseer'S house' which is
about a mile from this, turn down the river, and the
first respectable-looking place you come to is La Sauté,
as the doctor calls it. You cannot miss your way.
From your silence, I presume your quest in the
picture room has been as fruitless as mine was?"
"I have examined the horrible portraits it contains
with a great deal of interest," replied Victor, evasively.
For traces of Adrienne we must seek elsewhere, I
believe." _ _ _

The priest gave him a penetrating glance, but he
only said—
" You cannot mistake the road to Dr. Brunel's if you
follow my directions."
"Thank you. Where shall I find you, if I should
wish to communicate with you again ?"
"A double duty chains me here, though they are
entirely antagonistic—that of the Christian and the
avenger. Which will conquer, God alBne knows; but
I must remain beside this old man as long as life
lingers in his frame. Bring Adrienne safe to me, and
mercy may conquer. But if—. You found nothing,
of course? After the search made by M. Mendon and
myself, it was folly to expect it."
4.1 found nothing to induce the belief that any
injury had been inflicted on Mademoiselle Durand, and
I have the hope that she will soon be restored in safety
to her friends."
Victor departed, and while he proceeds towards the
house of Dr. Brunel, we will precede him to La Sante,
and again join M. Mendon.

CHAPTER XXVI.
IN a state of extreme agitation and excitement, M.
Mendon approached the dwelling which might at this
moment shelter one he had long believed dead.
The suspicion that Louise yet lived having once been
admitted to his mind as a possibility, he recalled
every incident known to him which might be admitted
as proof of the fact. The old boyish affection he had
borne her came welling up in his heart again, and by
the time he reached the door of Dr. Brunel's cottage,
he felt almost that he could ask if Madame Mendon
was there, for he could not bear to think of her by the
name of the old miscreant from whose wretched
death-bed he had just come.
Dr. Brunel was at home, and the visitor was at once
ushered into his study. M.ldendon hesitated an instant
to find an excuse for his call, for he was seldom in the
habit of seeking Dr. Brunel socially; but he finally
said—
"l have just come from Bellair, and I left its master
lying at the point of death; before many more hours
have passed away, M. Lecour must be numbered with
the dead. As there was no one else to summon you
to his aid, I thought perhaps I had better do so my-
self."
A remarkable change took place in the rubicund
face of the doctor as he listened to this announcement.
He threw down his pipe, bustled from his chair, and
exclaimed—
"Can't live! Are you sure—perfectly sure? Oh!
it's too good news to be true! / help the old villian!
no, indeed. I'd sooner sink all my medical skill in the
Inferno than try it on him. Oh, dear! I am afraid I
am a very poor Christian, but I believe! shall shout a
wean of thanks if your news is only true. Tell me
over again. Is he really dying? Has his own venom
struck in at last, and poisoned him?'
"Not exactly; but as nearly as I could ascertain
the circumstances, M. Lecour was a few days since
slightly injured by a rabid bloodhound he kept chained
in one of his lower rooms. He was not aware of the
condition of the animal, and the wound was neglected
until it was too late to do anything for him."
Dr. Bruners face looked awe-stricken. He said in
suppressed tones—
"It is God's judgment on him for his treatment of
that poor child. I have felt ever since I knew that
as if I must lay violent hands upon him myself; but
Cod is over all, and he truly rules all things for the
best."
M. Mendon caught the sense of his muttered words,
and he thought it best to speak at once of his errand.
"You are, then, aware of what has happened to
Mademoiselle Durand at Bellair, and you doubtless
know the place of her retreat! For Heaven's sake,
relieve my deep anxiety by giving me the assurance
that she is safe.'
Dr. Brunel seemed embarrassed, but he said—
"I may tell you that much I suppose. The young
lady is safe as far as life and limb are concerned, but
the fright she received may yet produce the most
painful results. This must suffice for the present, but
pray give mo all the particulars of M. Lecour's illness,
for they are of vital importance to more than one
person in this house."
Thus urged, M. Mendon,with graphic force, depicted
the condition of hopeless suffering in which he had left
M. Lecour, and declared his belief that no hope remained
of his surviving beyond the next twenty-four hours.
The doctor rubbed his hands together at this assurance,
and then apologised for rejoicing at the death of a
fellow-creature, however low in the scale of humanity
he might have fallen. He ended thus—
" Tiv‘ fact is, I am so deeply interested in another
party, that I loseall sympathy with the miscreant who
has made her life wretched."
M. Mendon impressively said—
"Dr. Brunel, I am aware that you refer to my
sister.in-law. Madame Louise Mendon. I have very
strong reasons for believing that she did not die in
your house, as was universally reported and believed
tt the time of her attempted suicide. With the assist-
ance afforded her by your medical skill, she was
enabled to impose this belief upon her wretched
tyrant, and also on the little community around her.
Until very lately I, like the rest of the world, have
been deceived; but circumstances have lately come to
my knowledge, which lead to the conviction in my
own mind that Louise yet lives. I did not believe
that my sister would have so deeply mistrusted me."
Dr. Brunel stared at him in blank amazement and
uncertainty. He finally asked— -
"Why, what would you have had her do? She
was— . Yet, no; I have no right to speak of this
yet, nor do I know what ground you can possibly have
for your assertion."
"It is too late to recede now, doctor. Besides, I
have the best assurance that Louisa yet lives, for she
spoke to me herself in the hall of the old house only
the night before last. I recognised her voice then, and
reflection has convinced me that it issued from the
lips of a living woman, and not from a shadow."
"Bless my soul! then why did you not test it by
p!acing your hand upon her? You could soon have
daitinguished between a phantom and real flesh and
blood."
" I did make the attempt, but she evaded me. But
I have now come hither determined that she shall not
do so again. I come as her friend, and that of her
daughter, for I am aware that Adrienne Durand is
not the descendant of M. Lecour, but the child of
Louise Montreuil, who was in infancy committed to
the charge of Lecour's daughter, to be reared as her
The listener regarded him in mute surprise; at
length he said—
"Truly, M. Mendon, you are a much shrewder
person than I took you to be. But I cannot act in
this affair on my own responsibility. I must consult
the wishes of another. fray excuse me a few
moments."
as
us
that
ansl ym.
days when she was both mother and sister to me. She
much you
brother now Low thoseSlY o
teari
"llieerr
need have no fear of me for I pledge myself to protect
her through every difficuly that may beset her path."
The good doctor shrugged his shoulders at this
assurance, for he had taken a pretty accurate measure
of M. Mendon's character; but reflecting that he had
no right to doubt the sincerity of the speak( r,
though he had many unspoken reasons for doing so,
he went out, and with hurried steps crossed the yard
toward a cottage similar in size to the one occupied by
himself and his wife.
It was embowered in evergreens, and he drew near
the entrance with light and cautious steps. The door
was left slightly ajar, that the fresh air might
constantly circulate in the room, and pushing it open.
he entered a cheerful looking apartment in which
were two ladies.
On a bed covered with white drapery lay a fair
young girl, folded in a deep, almost breathless slumber.
Her long, golden hair was spread out upon the pillow
that supported her head, and loving fingers had evi-
dently taken great pains to smooth it.. and place it in