The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-09-10
A WOMANS
 ENCHANTMENT
By William Le Queux
Copyright, 1909, by William Le Queux
(ContiDued.)

ed that I intended to get away to the
 continent. though my visit to the bank
 was a somewhat suspicious yet neces- sary. move.
 To further describe the long and
 tedious journey from the Hook of Hol- land down to Budapest, where I join ed the orient express. which took me
 on to Constantinople. is here unneces- 'sary. Many of you have done tn at
 journey. Suffice it to say that five days after leaving London I stood u1
 the big long hall of the Pera Palace Motel. on the hill overlooking the Golden Horn. my hand clasped warmly in that of my friend Granny Cough.
 "At last. old chap"' he cried. "I dared not come down to the station to meet you. for I didn't know who might be following you. Come up to my room and let's talk"
 We ascended in the lift, and with the door closed he pulled forward a big saddlebag chair for me. and sank into one himself.
 You must be, Jagged out. Have a drink.'' he urged.
 '.No, my dear fellow. No alcohol WIlSH OI1e IS SLCOs eS cii' <A SNe O~ bouillon rather. They're sure to have some in the hote1.' And he rang and ordered what desired.
 We'll I exclaimed. you may just imagine how delighted I was to get your wire. went to Colsterworth and heard from your landlady the catastrophe that happened.
 .'Yes But who gave me awayF'
 "Garshore. He bribed a telegraph messenger to get him a copy of your message to me He and I were to- gether at the Stapletons."
 "And he wired to the police. Ah!" he cried. 'I see it all now-but-but they didn't get me. after all"
 You had narrow squeak, Granny eh?"
 Marrow. Rather!'' he exclaimed, with a laugh. "The two men didn't know that I'm an expert with my fists. I just waited my opportunity, and in a, quiet part of the road bowled them both over. Then ? took to my heels across the fields and escaped. It was quite unrotnantic, I assure you" and his big. clean-shaven face. with the merry blue eyes, broadened into 2, smile. 'I fear that both of them bear marks on their faces, but really couldn't help it. I'll apologize, to them some day.
 ..Your landlady said that they drove you away back to Grantham. She didn't know the truth. if seems. But why didn't you let me know this?" I Queried.
 Because I feared that your corre- spondence might be watched. I didn't known whether you were in London. When got here first vent to Hessim Pasha. the chief of police, who is ans ns| old friend of mine. told him a few facts and made him promise that if theref were inquiries from England he would let me know in sufficient time to allow me to escape. You know how things are worked out here in the east its all backsheesh. Then I dared to i wire you.'
 And I'm here-delighted to discover that you're still free, old fellow.''
 Have you seen Myra?"
 I replied in the affirmative. where upon he asked me in quick anxiety to tell him all that had occurred.
 "what does she think?" he demand ed What does she say?"
 Briefly I related the chief events of my visit to Yorkshire. and he sat listening to me without uttering word Tears Sprang to his eyes as I told him of the firm belief in him which Myra had still expressed. ..Ah!' he calculated at last, with a leep sigh. ''she still believes in me still loves me-eh?' none of the foul calumnies of that Garshore."
 He was silent. with bent head.
 ''what do you really know concern ng Garshore. Granny" asked him presently. "'Nothing-nothing more than what | I've already told you"
 Would that I could have revealed to 1 aim the astounding story which FL | 'rida had told me. sBut was under a | promise of secrecy. My lips were seal- l ,d. Had been free to tell the truth | 'ree to inform the police that Rufford | md Garshore weJe one and the same | the whole coUrse of l events would no doubt have been all tered. and who knows-perhaps the | mystery of Radcliffe Gardens at once | cleared up. But as matters stood l fettered, and Granny brand d as an assassin.
 I put a few questions to him. What | had told him concerning Myra had 1 upset the dear old fellow. He loved l Ter and her heart was his.
 The man before me, who had lived | ,n his wits all those long years-and | lad lived well. too-was nervous and | broken. I had never seen him before n that state. When the multifarious concessions and the like he lad in hand did not go exactly as they should he had certainly shown signs If nerves. But he could always so control his face and feelings before | strangers that even when he had but | ! single frapc left in his pocket he re- aimed the appearance of a prosperous nan. His silk hat, when he did busf- less, was of the glossiest, and his per