The Cotton Factory Times. — 1905-04-21 (Manchester, Greater Manchester, England)

WHOSO FINDETH A WIFE,  BY WILLIAM LE QUEUX.  COPYRIGHT.  " The Czar will have no further employment for a murderer," exclaimed Ella at last. "Neither will the House of Commons permit a spy to sit in ha midst. When I consented to enter the Secret Service of his Majesty it was with one object—to obtain permission to marry. This I have attained, and because of Geoffrey's generosity and free forgiveness I have now no further fear of the opinion of the world or of revelations by a man who is proved to be a murderer. At last I have secured freedom from your hateful tie." "Then you intend to denounce me?" Beck cried, glancing round with a wild, hunted look. " Twenty-four hours from now I shall place Lord Warnham in possession of the whole of these curious facts. If you are still upon English soil you will be arrested for the murder of my friend," I answered. calmly. "I see plainly how, while I left you alone with the dead man, you placed in his pocket the brass seal found upon him, and how cleverly you managed to introduce the bogus passport and evidences of forgery among his possessions. Yours was a devilish ingenuity, indeed." "If I fly you will not follow?" he gasped eagerly. "Wherever you may hide you will be followed by your guilt." I answered. "A murderer can hope for no forgiveness from his fellow men." With his chin sunk upon his breast, and his wild eyes downcast, he stood in silence, leaning heavily against the wall. Then, slowly, with a final look upon him. I passed out behind my wife and the palefaced woman who had so clearly substantiated her terrible charge. The vengeance he had sought to bring upon Ella had fallen upon himself, and completely crushed him. • • • • * • • •  In the library at Berkeley Square on the following afternoon I explained the whole of the startling facts to the wizened, ascetic old Earl, who sat speechless in amazement when he realised that Andrew Beck was actually a foreign spy. It was during the conversation that followed I learnt that the man so dearly loved by Sonia was Cecil Bingham. the young country gentleman who, known to both, had sought to assist Ella in unearthing the identity of Dudley's murderer. Sonia had misjudged my wife entirely. for she had never denounced her to Cecil, and the latter, being at the moment a guest in the Earl's house, was sent for, and before us all the pair became reconciled.  Elizaveta Nicolayevna, or Ella. as still call her, has now renounced her country, and become thoroughly English. A year ago Lord Warnharn, assured of my wife's probity, for greatly to M. Grodekoff's dismay, she had 'given some valuable information regarding the activity of the Russian Secret Service at Downing-street. appointed me to a responsible post at our Embassy in Paris, so that we now live together at the big white house in the Avenue des Champs Elysees, while Sonia and Cecil are also married and live quietly in a quaint old manor-house near Winchester. It was only the other day, however, that we heard mention of Andrew Beck. the popular legislator, who had so mysteriously accepted stewardship of the Chiltern Hundreds. There was a paragraph in the newspapers stating that he had been found drowned in the Scheldt. near Antwerp, and foul play was suspected. Then Ells explained to me that the woman who had passed as her mother, Mrs. Laing. was, she afterwards discovered, a well-known Nihilist, and it was in order to keep observation upon her that the detective Renouf had entered her service. This woman, whose real name was Sophie Grunsberg, was greatly incensed against Beck on account of certain false accusations he had made against members of the revolutionary organisation, and there was little doubt he had fallen beneath their far-reaching vengeance. Here. as I pen these last few lines of my strange story of England's peril, my own betrayal, and my wife's fond love. Ella, with sweet, glad smile, moves forward to stroke my hair with soft, caressing hand. The odour of sampaguita pervades her chiffons and stirs within me memories of the past. We are to. in the room I know so well, with its great windows overlooking the leafy Avenue. It is warm, the jalousies are closed, and from somewhere outside the gay air "Si qu'on leuri-z-y f'rait co" is borne in upon the summer wind. At last our days are full of passionate love and idyllic hapniness. Verily there is great truth in those words of Holy Writ, "Whose findeth a wife, findeth a good thing."