Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1905-01-21 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

CHAPTER XI.  Lukcy's Luck. cpeeeseoe-4  When Drake left I had vague thoughte of a sandwich-and-glass-of-sherry loncheon—he had not gone without inviting me to break my fast with him at the Tally-ho—but an urgent message came from Lady Dolly. at the Carlton. So I had to forego even a makeshift; it was evident I was going to be kept jumping on the gridiron of novel sensations. The Marquise had spoken enough to fAinin. late my curiosity, and I was keen to hear more. I wanted to know what had caused her to faint; I was not eon. tent to think tat the cause was merely her age and the weakness which coma from age. I felt sure there was another and more valid reason. I was not wrong. Lady Dolly met me at the door of the suite.  "Well, Nigel," said she, •get my gloves?" " Perhapa," said I, " perhaps. I can't tell you yet, for I am not sure myself. How is the Marquise" "She is a fairly old woman," said Lady Dolly; "and elderly people do not recover so quickly as young folks do. But she mint have a wonderful constitution, for, after she had recovered and had a little rest, she insisted on you being sent for. She is now waiting impatiently for your arrival. She's been babbling a good deal." " Ah! Said anything interestiw;" Nothing-that I could see any sense in. She called 'Pierre!' hen she opened her eyes, and then she seemed to realise that he had said something she oughtn't, and ;wouldn't speak at all. Before then she had been crying, 'Pierre a murderer ! Pierre a murderer! It is the finger of Ged ! It is the Fuger of God!' What did she mean' "That was all she said?" "That was all I heard."  "am I to  "Is she ready to receive me?'' "She's just dying to see you." I entered the room alone. The Marquise was propped up in an arm-chair among a perfect sea of cushions and pillows. Always a pale and bloodlets woman, she was now more pale and bloodless than ever. Her cheeks were hollow and sunken, and her eyes, usually expressionless and wandering, were fixed and full of a look that was half-fear, half-despair. Her hands were folded in her lap, and seemed to have lost some of their comfortable plumpness. Alto gather, she looked strangely altered since I had seen her a couple of hours  earlier. "Madame la Marquise," said I, "I am truly grieved to know that you have been suffering. You have overtaxed your energies. "There is no time, Sir Nigel, for speeches of regret. I feel very weak, and heaven only knows if I have time to tell you what I have been specially sent to tell." Her voice was feeble and low, and I had to lean close to her in order to hear. Her breath came painfully, and it was only with an effort that she spoke. "You were very much astonished, I make no doubt, when I fainted. When I tell you the cause of my losing consciousness, you will have pity on me; you are not like our French officials, who have hearts as callous and hard ao granite. You are an Englishman gentle man first, a police official after. "You uttered a name—you said 'Pierre.' And. you spoke of a murder that he had done. Did you speak truly?" "I believe so, I honestly believ.e so. "As God is your witness?" " As God is my witness, I believe I spoke truly. Why, do you take tido matter so earnestly?" "I I am his mother." .  "The mother of Pierre Laparcend "And of Gaston."