The Washington times., 1912-09-13
CHAPTER XVII.
News From Dublin.

T INSPECTOR NICHOLSON, as 1t has
already been remarked of him, was
II a police official who now enjoyed
high rank I'm the Liverpool forco,
which is equivalent to saying that there
had always been In him desire to rise
| in the service and that he had managed
| to achieve his success. .. e.,
But he was one of those men whose
ambition is boundless. and who lose no
opportunity of pushing themselves on
| in their profession; he was, moreover.
| a man who, having had his curiosity
aroused, did not like to have it balked.
Further. although he was at that time
on holiday, he saw no reason why he
should not combine little business
with his plasure.
So that night he sat down after sup
per in the coffee room of his hotel and
wrote very private letter to an old
friend of lis in Leeds. like himself
prominent member of the service. and
,, without taking him very much into his
confidence he asked him If he could
tell him what had become of Joe, or
Joseph Kilner. who had been known to
both of them a few years previous.
1t might be merely idle curiosity. Ne
said to himself when he had strolled
across to the postoffice and posted his
letter. that made him do this. but one
could never tell what even the smallest
things led to.
Ii Inspector Nicholson could have
looked into Mr. Keene's highly, respect
able dning-room that evening he would
have found that gentleman in a state of
great and even serious discomposure.
Mr.. Keene had recognized the man
who accosted him, and the recognition
was causing him the most severe men,
tai anguish. He dreaded a policeman
as saint breads sin; the sight Of an
innocent, unoffending rustic constable at
cross road made him sweat; but the
presence of a real, live, active inn
placable detective, in plain clothes,
caused him absolute pain, physical as
well as mental.
He had continued to keep his Icoun-
tenance and his dignity when Inspector
Nicholson addressed him. but 1t had
only been at tremendous cost to him
self, and he had been so faint after
+ against the principles which he had
recently formulated and adopted, to go
into hotel and ask for old brandy.
And as. he siped 1t in the privacy OF
the coffee-room he asked himself again
and again: Did 1t mean anything? Had
Nicholson found anything out? Was
he-dreadful thought-was he on the
track?
This notion so affrighted him that he
had TO ring for another dose of brandy,
and he remarked to the landlord that
he was suffering from an old heart
complaint.
The second stimulaht chsered Mr.
Keene up little. He reflected that if
Nicholson had wanted him he would
not have let him go out of his sight
But how did he know that he was out
OF his sight-he might be keeping him
under observation?
/ He got up, and stealthily opening the
door, peeped out into the hall, half ex-
| pectant Of finding Nicholson and a
force of police there. The hall was
| empty.
Mr.. Keene closed the door gently and
! looked out of the window, fearing to
see Nicholson pacing the street on the
son there; it was obvious then that
Nicholson was not after him at pres
ent.
At present! These words beat them
sciousness with sickening reiteration as
he walked homeward to his comfort
able house. What was the use of pres
ent safety If the future was to be har-
assed by doubts? He had hoped that he
had escaped from the world; from the
time of his arrival in North Wales un-
til that moment he had never set eyes
| on a person of his previous acquaint-
ance. and he had hoped that he never
would.
He tried to take cheer during his
dinner-which he invariably took at 6
o'clock of the evening, AS being a high
ly respectable and pleasurabfe sort Of
time-by trying to convince himself
that the meeting was merely acciden-
| tai.
II Nicholson had been anything but
what he was, Mr.. Keene would not
have cared so much, but the mere fact
that he was a detective and uncom-
monty we'll known in police circles by
the skill which he had displayed in un-
raveling certain mysteries made Mr..
Keene as frightened as child Is of
| wasp.
A Continuation of This Story VIII
he Found In TOmOrrOw's
| Issue of The Times.