The Cotton Factory Times. — 1907-02-08 (Manchester, Greater Manchester, England)

THE SERVICE OF LOVE,  BY RICHARD MARSH.  CHAPTER XLl.—(Continur.l.l  By the time Hayter came back with Inspector Emss the second part of the scheme had been carried out; the murderer had become transformed into the semblance of his victim. So well was it done that Hayter, although it compelled him to doubt the evidence of his own sense, did not suspect it was an imitation. Confronted by the ocular proof that Lord Sabin was still alive, supported by his trusty valet, Crowden, Mr. Hayter's tale—as true tales have done before to-day and will again— wore such an air of the impossible that the inspector's incredulity was justified, though had he pushed his researches a little further he would probably have stumbled on the dead body lying in the cushioned recess. It was there they buried it, under the boards, where, at a later date, all that was left of the murdered man was found, clad as Gilbert Hayter had seen him last. Possibly, if he had had his way, Crowden would have gone right off with his share of the forty thousand pounds to what he hoped would be a place of safety. But it is not improbable that from the first he and the woman realised that they had raised up for themselves a monster from whom there was no escape. One can fancy the scene in which he informed them that he intended to keep the forty thousand pounds, and everything else, in his own two hands, and to serve out doles as it suited him; their remonstrance., and the way in which lie silenced them—the way of the master; the moment in which it dawned on them that they were dealing with an actual madman—one who would be held irresponsible by the law, while they would he held responsible; one who might butcher them with complete impunity, and who certainly would butcher them if they objected too strenuously to his peculiar methods. Thenceforward their lives must have been an unending nightmare; their last state must have been much worse than their first— afraid of being with him, afraid to go. Probably, in this society of five, the men Jarrow and Rice, in the first instance, played the parts of what have euphemistically been called "penmen." Murder having been done, under the singular circumstances of the came it was necessary that ids gig should follow. Lord Sabin being alive, it was desirable that he should be able to write a cheque; and, on occasion, sign a document which meart money. The presumption is that Blackstaffe 1.111; no impersonator of another man's handwritiim ; that though he could kill, he could not forge mid that, for that purpose, neithi•r the woman ~or Crowden was available. The man who called himself Rice was recognised by the police as a person who had been suspected of many forgeries, end who had suffered punishment for at least one. From the description which Hayter and Forteseue were able to give, Jarrow was placed by the authorities in the first rank of known imitators of other men's signatures. No doubt thew two men between them did all that was necessary in the way of forgery, and a great deal had been dour. Cheques and paper, important papers of all Farts and kinds, had been forged galore—exisellently forged. It is not likely that either of them had had a direct hand in the killing of Lord Sabin; but it is certain that before long they must have had the best of reasons for—to put it gently—suspecting what had happened. And the moment in which they be.mie Blackstaffe's conscious accomplices they also placed themselves at the mercy of a monster from whom there was no escape. Which Was why those five persons always travelled about in a single company, with Lord Sabin" as the universal paymaster,. It must have been with curious sensations that four of them watched the growing madness of the fifth, and the consequent iiicreasing peril to themselves. It was only by unhesitating obedience that they gained for themselves some sort of peace. When "Lady Sabin" went on that errand to the Rue de l'Ecu the inference is that she went against the master's wish, and, since no one did that with impunity. and he was in an evil mood, as Mr. Jarrow phrased it across the telephone, "the game was up "—so far as she was concerned, for all eternity.