The Monmouth inquirer., 1918-06-13
Hy PxRaY NEwBRRRY.
sas Frank A. Munsey Co.

Tell me WnaC OF ner Anu 1SdpSuo
put her clenched hands to her cheeks,
marring the flesh with her knuckles,
and stared at me as though crazed.
4Her uncle-you? You are her
uncle?" she cried. Then: "Oh, this
is impossible! Impossible!"
II am her uncle. Tell me what OF
herr" And in the silence that followed
/ heard again Isabelle's words:
''There could be no doubt; it was
Marnee Taafe."
"That was she?" cried, and
knew, even as Isabelle's face drooped
to her hands. My niece, little Marnee
of boyhood memory, was the girl of
the elevator, the corpse of the
morgue.
what is it all about?" asked Signo-
ra Cesana, not understanding; but
neither answered her
'sWhy did you not tell me, Isa-
belle?" 1 asked her finally, and she
raised her face from her hands, look
ing through tear-dewed eyes into
mine.
81 could never have guessed -
might never have known you were
her uncle she replied. Now l may
tell you all-everything / know-sur-
mise-fear! Thank God, may tell
you nowl"
ssYes. Isabelle; tell me your secret
now" and took a seat beside her on
the deck.
A few words in explanation to the
signora, and she, still in a maze, left
us together, and Isabelle told the
story-or all she knew of the story
of Marnee Taafe. They had been in
Inmates at the Convent of Klosterne-
berg, for eight years like sisters, and
when Marnee fell in love with the
Grand Duke of Igeria, Isabelle was
her confidant, even after she return
ed to her mothers former home at
Durango, for long letters passed
back and forth between the distant
lands.
Marnee and her ducal lover could not
be married in Igeria, nor anywhere
else with the permission of his near
relative, the reigning sovereign of
European power; but marry they
would regardless of authority and
laws of succession. So the duke be-
gan tour Of the world, ostensibly to
complete college education, in real
ity to run away from his duchy, his
people, his relatives, and authority,
and wed the girl he wanted.
That wedding was to have been in
San Francisco, at the Greek church of
his religion, and San Francisco had
been chosen because of me. Marnee
wanted me beside her in this great
adventure, and had written Isabelle to
join her there, mentioning me only as
an uncle. Isabelle had heard of me,
undoubtedly heard my name back in
the Convent of Klosterneberg, but it
had made no lasting impression, and
"John Gilmore" meant nothing to her.
Marnee sailed to San Francisco on
the dukes yacht Sakuntala, lay-sis-
ter of the convent accompanying her,
and she arrived in San Francisco on
the afternoon of the day she died.
There Isabelle's story was merged in
to mine, and l told her the chapters
which l had kept back until now;
of the two subsequent murders; of
James Freel, undoubtedly the Duke
of Igeria, incognito, and the man who
had been our shadow at the church.
It was still the mystery of the st.
Dunstan, more strangely mysterious
now with this romance of medieval
ism added The duke had arrived on
Monday, taken an apartment under
the name of James Freel; had prob
ably been sent there by Marnee be-
cause she knew / was tenant. But
he had gone away the next morning,
or had said at the Office he intended
to go; and he was found by me, dead
in his chair, early on Friday morning.
Marnee, on the Sakuntala, had sail
ed in through the Golden Gate on
Tuesday afternoon and in the small
hours of Wednesday morning l had
found Marnee's corpse, found it and
had not known it. had a photograph
of her somewhere among my belong
ings; she had sent it two years or
more ago. But it had brought no real
ization of her identity to my mind. A
poor likeness probably.
Was F'reel dead when Marnee came
to the ST. Dunstan? More likely they
were shot at the same time, for the