Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1907-10-06
BY
C. N. and A. M. WILLIAMSON,
Authoss Of
THE LIGHTNING CONDUCTOR.

midst Of the puddle stumbled over thing
that was heavy and soft to the touch of
my foot.
A queer tinglng like the sting of
Thousand tiny electric needles prickled
through my veins for even before I stopped
and laid my hand on that barrier. which
was so heavy and yet 80 soft as II stopped
my path I knew what 1t would prove to be.
1t was II / could see through the
dark to what It hid. But though there was
surprise left. there was a shock of hor-
r0r as my fingers touched an arm. throat,
an upturned face. And my fingers were
wet. as / knew my boots must be. And l
knew too. with what they were wet
I'm ashamed TO say that, after the first
shock Of the discovery my impulse was to
get away and out of the whole business. In
which. for reasons which concerned others
even more than myself, 1t would be I'M
pleasant to be involved, just at this time
especially. I could go downstairs now.
past the sleeping concierge, and with luck
no one need ever know that had been In
this dark room of death.
But as quickly the impulse came 1t
went. l must stop here and search for the
treaty. no matter what happened. until /
had found 1t or made sure it was not to be
found: / must not think of escape. II there
were matches in the room. we'll and good:
if not. I must go elsewhere for them and
come back. 1t was grim task, but II mad
to be done.
Somehow l got to the mantelpiece, and
there. luckily, among a litter of pipes and
bottles and miscellaneous rubbish, did lay
my hand on a broken cup. containing few
matches. / struck one which showed me
on the mantel an end OF a candle, standing
up In bed Of its own grease. ] lighted 1t.
and not until the fame was burning bright
ly did l look round
There was but a faint illumination. yet
1t was enough to give me the secret of the
room. i might have seen all at glance
l came in, before the light Of my last
match was blown out by the wind, had not
no I he
tween me and the dead man on the floor.
He lay In the midst Of the widest confu-
sion. In falling he had dragged with him
the cover of a table and a glass lamp,
which was smashed in pieces, the spilled
oil mingling with the stream Of his blood.
A chair had been overturned. and a broken
plate and tumbler with the tray that had
held them, were half hidden in the folds OF
a diSordered rug
But this was not all. The struggle for
life did not account for the condition Of
other parts of the room. Papers were
scattered over the floor: the drawers of an
old escritoire had been terked out of place
and their contents strewn far and near.
The doors of a wardrobe were open, and
few shabby coats and pairs of trousers
thrown about, with the pockets wrong side
out or torn in rags. A chest of drawers
had been ransacked, and a narrow hospital
bed stripped of sheets and blankets. the
stuffing Of the mattress pulled into small
pieces. The room looked as II whirlwind
had swept through It, and as / forced my
SELF to go near the body ! saw that 1t had
not been let In peace by the murderer.
The blood stained coat was open, the
pockets OF the garments turned out like
those in the wardrobe. and all the clothing
disarranged, evidently by hands which
searched for something with frenZied haste
and merciless determination.
The cunning forethought Of the Wretched
man had awaited him nothing. I could
imagine how joyously he had arrived at
this house. believing that he Rad outwitted
the enemy. l pictured his disappointment
on not finding the friend who could have
had planned to defend himself in case of
siege. by locking and boiling the door (both
lock and bolt were broken); l fancled him
driven by hunger to search his friends
quarters for food, and fearfuly beg ming
supper in the midst o. which he had
probably been interrupted. Almost l could
feel the horror with which he must have
trembled when steps came along the corrr-
dor. when the door tried and finally
broken in by force without any cry of his
being heard. l guessed how he had rushed
to the window, opened 1t, only to stare
down at the depths below and return des-
perately to stand at bay; to protest to the
avengers that he had not the Jewels; that
he had been deceived; that he was inno-
cent of any intention to defraud them; that
he would explain all. make anything right
If only they would give him time
But they had not given him time. They
had punished him for robbing them of the
diamonds by rbbblng him of his life. They
had made him pay with the extreme pen
lily for his treachery; and yet in the flick
ering candlelight, the stricken face, blood
spattered though II was seemed to leer
cunningly, as If in the knowledge that they
had been cheated in the end.
The confusion of the room promised badly
for my hopes nevertheless there was q
chance that the murderers, intent only on
finding the diamonds or some letters relat-
ing to their disposal, might, If they found
the treaty, have hastily flung 1t aside as a
thing of no value.
Though the corridors of the house were
lit by gas, this room had none, and the
lamp being broken l had to depend upon
the bit of candle, which might fail while /
still had need of It. l separated 1t care
fully from Its bed Of grease on the mantel,
and as / did SO the wavering light touched
my hand and shirt cuff. Both were stained
red. and l turned slightly sick at the sight.
There was blood on my brown boots. too.
and the gray tweed clothes, which 1 had
not had time to change since arriving In
Paris.
told myself that I must do my best to
leaving the room, but first / would look for
the treaty
l began my search by stirring up the
mass of scattered papers on the floor, and
In spite of the horror which gripped me by
the throat l cried 'hurrah." when, half
hidden by the twisted rug, / saw the miss
Ing letter-case. 1t was lying spread open,
back uppermost and there came an instant
Of despair when pounced on 1t, only to find
1t empty. But there was the treaty on the
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