Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1912-02-14
handing what his late visitors business
BARONESS ORGY

manding what his late visitors business
might be.
Very reluctantly on hearing the latter's
status he consented to admit them. He
did not at first appear to suspect that
anything wrong might have happened, or
that anything untOward could occasion
this nocturnal visit-in fact, he seemed
unconscious of the lateness of the hour.
He walked straight into the library.
where he had obviously been sitting, for
an armchair was drawn to the fire,
reading lamp was lighted on the table,
and papers and magazines lay scattered
about.
The police officer in plain Clothes who
stood with his subordinate, somewhat un.
decided, hardly knew how to begin. 1t
was hard task to break such awful
news to this lonely old man.
At last 1t was done; the word "acci-
dent and ''your nephew were blurted
out by the man in command. But hardly
clyffe-livid and trembling-had jumped
to his feet.
"Luke!'' he contrived to exclaim. and
his voice was almost choked, his lips and
hands trembled. beads OF perspiration
stood upon his forehead. Something has
happened to Luke
mo, no, my lord! that's not the name
Philip was on the card and on the letters
Philip de Mountford-that was, 1 think,
the poor gentleman's name"
And an ACCIDENT mas happened 10 MI.
Philip de Mountford?'
The voice was quite different now. No
longer choked with anxiety. calm and as
If mildly interested in passing events. 1t
was obvious even to the strangers pres
ent that one nephew was of far greater
moment than the other.
II am afraid, my lord. that it's worse
I than an accident
The officer paused q moment, satisfied
that he was doing all that was necessary
and possible to mitigate the suddenness
Of the blow.
ITS foul play" he said. at last; that's
what 1t was"
Foul play? What do you mean by
THAR"
''Mr. Philip de Mountford has been MUIR
police station-would you wish him con-
veyed home at once, my lord-or walt un-
til after the inquest?'
There was silence in the room for q mo-
ment or two, while the old-fashioned
clock licked stoldidly on. At the awful
felled a younger and more vigorous man,
Lord Radcliffe had not moved. He was
still standing, his hand resting on the
table beside the piled up newspapers. The
light Of the lamp. yelled by red shade,
illumined the transparent delicacy of the
high-bred hand, the smooth, black sur
face of the coat and the glimmering
whiteness of the shirt front with its sim
gle pearl stud. The face itself was in
shadow, and thus the police officer saw
little or nothing Of that inward struggle
for self-mastery which was being put so
severely to the test.
Lord Radcliffe, face to face with the
awful event, strove by every power at his
command to remain dignified and impas-
sive. The lessons taught by generations
of ancestors had to Dear fruit now, when
q representative of the ancient name stood
confronting the greatest crisis that one of
his kind has ever had to face-the brutal,
vulgar fact Of q common murder. The
realities of q sordid life brought within
old house.
For a moment before he spoke again the
old man looked round about him, the tall
mahogany bookcases filled with silent
!. friends, the busts OF Dryden and OF Mil