The morning call., 1893-11-05

There was a tall man, with sharp fea-
lures and a short light beard. standing'at
the porter's lodge. He was veIy well and
carefully dressed. and he was smoking
cigarette.
porter; you want to see me about my
report of the murder?"
Yes" replied the stranger, speaking
with touch of a foreign accent, there is
no need of my introducing myself. but It's
awkward talking without some kind OF
name. Call ms Mr.. Smith; it will do as
well as any other"
"Wel. we can hardly talk here" sug-
gesIed Matcbwood; tits too draughty and
too public And that reminds me. there is
quiet place of refreshment just around
the corner. Let US go there"
NO" said Mr.. smith, many thanks,
but you must come with me. l have a
hanson waiting"
In another minute they were driving
westward. As they left the Comet Office
Superin ntendent Wilkins walked in.
MIR, Smith had suite of rooms on the
first floor. There was handsomely fur
nished sittlng-room, with another room
openin off it. In the outer room lady
in travelling dresS-a neat tweed tailor
made gown. and helmet cap-was bend
ing over the table, putting some papers
into a handbag. She looked up with a
start as the two men entered, and Match
somewhat rudely, for he saw at the first
glance that she was no other than the girl
whose portrait WAS among the papers in
the dead mau's wallet. Mr.. Smith"
spoke to her in some strange tongue. She
replied IN the same language. with touch
of querulous complaint in her voice. Then
she gathered up her papers and went
inlo the inner room, closing the door after
her.
Excuse me-" said Mr.. Smith. 81 was
talking of some private matters And
now for business. But you will try glass
of this liquor first. You will find it excel
lent"
He took small bottle from the cabinet
and poured out two tiny glasses of the
liqueur. IT'S frst-rate Chartreuse," he
said, and Matchwooi slipped The green, ,oilv
fluid and thought it was the strongest stuff
he h ad ever tasted.
"Now." Smith began. you talk of some
papers in your report. Let me see them.
| daresay l can help you to understand
them, and then we can straighten out the
whole story. Of course, the Com will let
me have something substantial for all this.
and you shall have your fair share"
MatchWood began to think Mr. Smith
was a capital fellow. He produced the
wallet and opened 1t on the table.
Il was going to take these papers to
translation bureau when you called" said
Match wood.
81 can save you the trouble" said Smith;
they are Russian official documents. If
you will write from my dictation you will
see how 1t was that Wretched man came to
be executed. This is a passport in the
name of Feodor Gheorgieff of Bresc Lit6v-
ski. That is fortress in the Polish quad
rilateral. Now. ] dare say we shall find
among these papers some hint of the busl-
ness that brought him to England"
MaichwOod, in a state of calm content,
with vague feeling that the Chartreuse
was very strong and that he was getting
some splendid "copy" for the Extra Spe-
cial. watched with quiet Indifference while
Smith turned all the papers out of the
wallet and sorted aud piled them in a little
heap upon the table. The last thing that
Smith" growled out something that
sounded like an outlandish oath, and put
the photo in his breast pocket.
Pardon me, demonstrated Matchwood,
"but we shall want that picture to make a
process block for tc-morrow's paper"
Smiths pleasant manner suddenly
changed. He sprang to his feet ID
your impudeneew he said. "This portrait
belongs to me" and then putting his long,
bony hand down upon the papers he con-
tinued, "and so do these letters. Don't
you try to meddle with them or with me.
You are at my mercy. That door is
locked. That bell-push is disconnected
/ could stab you and lock you in here. and
no one would be the wiser for hours to
come"
Mr.. Matchwood felt cold chill run
through him and knew his color was gone,
though he could not see his face in the
big mirror. But he was neither rash nor
heroic In temperament. and he capitulated
at once.
Take them au-au-all," he stammered,
II don't want to quarrel. Let me out OF
this with my life: Though l am going out
a ruined man, for my employers won't
believe a word of my story"
Smith gathered up the letters and lit
cigarette.
Better you should be ruined than I