The Green Forest tribune., 1915-08-06
My enemies! Who are thew"

ooubt your peril, watch" and taking tue rusty fire-tongs from the grate he carefully placed them on end in front or the deep old armchair in which I had sat- and then allowed them to fall against the edge of the seat, springing quickly back as he did so.
 In an instant bright blue flash shot 'nlough the place, and the irons fell aside, fused and twisted out of all recognition.
 stood aghast, utterly unable for the moment to sufficiently realize how narrowly l had escaped death.
 Look! See here, behind!" cried the Italian, directing my attention to the back legs of the chair, where, on bend Ing With the lamp, 1 saw, to my sur prise, that two wires were connected, and ran along the floor and out of the window, while concealed beneath the ragged carpet, in front of the chair. was thin plate of steel. whereon my feet had rested.
 Those who had so 1ngeniously en- tlced me to that gloomy house of death had connected up the overhead electric light main with that innocent looking char, and from some unseen point had been able to switch on a current of sufficient voltage to kill fifty men.
 stood stockstill, not daring to move lest 1 might come into contact with some hidden wire, the slightest of ioh death upon me-
 Your enemies prepared this ter rible trap for you," declared the man who was once my trusted servant When l entered into the affair I was not aware that it was to be fatal. They gave me no inkling of their dastardly intention. But there is no time to ad- init of explanations now, signore," he added breathlessly, in a low desperate voice. Say that you will not prejudge me-" he pleaded earnestly.
 q will not prejudge you until I've heard your explanation" I said q certainly owe my life to you tonight"
 Then quick. Fly from this house this instant. If you are stopped, then use your revolver. Don't hesitate. In a moment they will be here upon you"
 But who are they, Olinto? You must tell me-" cried in desperation.
 bio! Go! Col" he cried, pushing me violently towards the door, Ely, or we shall both die-both of us! Run downstairs. I must make feint of dashing after you"
 I turned, and seeing his desperate eagerness, precipitately fled, while he ran down behind me, uttering fierce imprecations in Italian, as though I had escaped him.
 A man in the narrow dark passage attempted to trip me up as I ran, but fired point blank at him, and gaining the door unlocked it, and an instant later found myself out in the street.
 It was the narrowest escape from death that I had ever had in all my life surely the StrangeSt and most re- markable adventure. What, I won. dered, did it mean?
 Next morning I searched up and  Milano, but could not find it. asked shopkeepers, postmen and policemen; I examined the London directory at the bar of the Oxford Music hall, and made every inquiry possible. But all was to no purpose. No one knew of such a place. There were restaurants in plenty in Oxford street, from the Frascati down to the humble coffee shop, but nobody had ever heard of the "Milano"
 1 drove over to Lambeth and wan- dered through the maze of mean streets off the York road, yet for the life of me could not decide into which house I had been taken. There were a dozen which seemed to me that they might be the identical house from which had so narrowly escaped with my life.
 Gradually it became impressed upon me that my ex-servant had somehow don, that he had watched my exit from the club, and that all his pitiful story regarding Armida was false He was the envoy of my unknown enemies, who had so ingeniously and so relent- lessly plotted my destruction My un- known enemies had secured the serv ices of Olinto in their dastardly plot to kill me- With what motive?
 That day I did my business in the city with a distrust of everyone, not knowing whether I was not followed or whether those who sought my life were not plotting some other equally ingenious move whereby l might go innocently to my death. I endeavored | to discover Olinto by every possible | means during those stifling days that followed The heat of London was. to me, more oppressive than the fiery ! sunshine of the old-world Tuscany, | and everyone who could be out of town | had left for the country or the sea.
 Defeated in every inquiry, and my | business at last concluded in London. | l went up to Dumfries on a duty visit | which I paid annually to my uncle, Sir George Little. Each time I returned | from abroad I was always welcome l pueSt at GreenlaW and this occasion