The Miller press. [volume] (Miller, S.D.) 190?-current, 1907-09-19
or Dead?'
The Strange Disappearance of
Gerald RathbOne.
~ GUY THoRNE.
BY Y THoaNE.

Thus Mr.. Eustace Charliewood, man
about-town, made his sudden exit from
Vanity Fair. Thus Sir William
Gouldesbrough, #. r. S., had another
secret to lock up In the somber re-
cesses Of his brain.
During the three days that he had
been forced TO remain In Brighton by
the tragedy Sir William had seen
something of the two ladies at the Pal
ace hotel.
Both Lady Poole and Marjorie, dur
ing that time, had come insensibly to
lean upon him and to ask his advice
about this and that. A terrible gap had
been created in Marjorie's life, and,
though Gouldesbrough could not I'LL 1t,
he came at the right moment to COM
fort and sustain.
Before he returned to London, Sir
William had gradually glided into a
new relation with the girl to whom he
had been engaged. He found his pow
err over her had increased. She was
more Respondent and subservient In
her great trouble than she had ever
been during the time when she was
promised to be his wife and he must
sue for favors.
And Gouldesbrough noticed also
that, though the girls grief seemed
In no way lessened, her hopes OF ever
seeing Gerald Rathbone again seemed
to be dwindling. The cunning words
that he had spoken, the little hint OF a
vulgar Gree, was perhaps beginning to
terminate within Marjorie's brain.
She was too loyal to believe any such
statement, but, nevertheless, It had an
unconscious influence with her. At
any rate, she began to cease discus
sion Of the mystery, and there was a
limiting Of a coming resignation to the
hard and fmpenetrable fact.
This at least was what Sir William
Gouldesbrough deduced. Trained
watcher OF the mind and human Inn
pulse as he was. psychologist of mar
velous knowledge and penetration, he
began to see, or so he thought to him.
self, that all was not yet lost; that 1t
might well be that the events of the
last few weeks would some day-not
yet Vi cOOn, DuJ bOluC ddy pldCO him
upon a higher pedestal than ever be-
fore.
On. the evening Of the fourth day ar
ter his arrival Sir William Gouldes-
brough returned to town.
In the afternoon he had driven with
Lord Landsend and Percy Alemare to
the cemetery.
It had been a cold and clustering af-
ternoon, and the plain hearse and the
| single, carriage that followed 1t had
trotted through the semi-deserted
streets until the graveside was reach
ed. The shivering vicar of a neighbor-
ing church, whose turn it was to take
the cemetery duty for the week, had
said the words of the Burial Service,
and In some half an hour all that was
mortal of Mr.. Eustace Charliewood
had disappeared forever from human
ken.
He would never stroll up Bond street
in his fur coat any more. Never again
would he chat with the head waiter
upon the important question OF a lunch.
No longer would Mr.. Proctor, the mas
seur, set the little rubber hammers to
beat out the lines of dissipation upon
that weak and handsome face. Mr..
Eustace Charliewood had resigned his
membership of the st. James street
clubs, and had passed out of Vanity
Fair into the night.
After the funeral Gouldesbrough
went to say good-by to Lady Poole and
Marjorie.
His last words to them were these:
IT shall so on" he said, "doing all
that I a In every possible way. And
everything that l do I will let you
know, and II l can discover the slight
est clue to this terrible mystery you
shall hear 1t at once. But don't buoy
yourself up with false hopes, that is
ell l ask. None OF us can say what the
future may have In store, but for my
part ! have not much hope. 1t may
| seem a cruel thing for me TO say, Mar
jorie. but I think It is my duty to say
It. Bear UP and be brave, and remem-
Der that I am always close to do any
thing ! can In any and every way to
help you and your mother"
And when he had gone the two Ia
dies, sitting In the twilight before the
glowing fire In the open hearth Of the
hotel sitting room, had felt that some
thing. some n who had become nec-
essary to them. had departed.
Sir William Gouldesbrough travelled
up to Victoria In a Pullman car. He
sat In his armchair before q little table
on which was a pile of evening papers.
During the first ten minutes he had
glanced through all Of them, and only
n part Of the news columns claimed
his attent!on-that was the portion Of
the paper devoted to the "Rathbone
Mystery"
He noticed that already the clamor
and agitation we're beginning to die
down. The shrewd prrveyors Of news
were beginning to realize that mys-
terry was not likely to be solved. and
that the public appetite was satisfied
/ with It.
The two columns or more which had
been usual In the early days Of Rath-
bcns'A disappsarance had now dwin-
died to Z single three-quarters Of Z
column. Gir william realised that the
public interest was already dying out.
ybr . nv minutes. whom he Aal