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

MACKENZIE.  "About a year and a half after, news reached Police headquarters that the convicts numbered 9567 and 9568 had disappeared from the penal settlement one dark night. Convicts sometimes make their escape from New Caledonia by boat, but rarely, if ever, do they succeed in winning their way to the coast of Australia. The Laparceries had always been under surveillance, and as far as investigations showed they had had no opportunities of building a raft —and no boat was missing. After a decent lapse of time, without any news of the fugitives, it was concluded that they had committed suiciue. That conclusion was entered on the records.  "Last year died in Paris, in a little chambre meublee au sixieme ' in the Rue Monsieur is Prince, a man named Fergus Abney." "What name is that?" said I, starting._ _  1" Fergus Abney. Does it convey anything to you?" "Nothing of consequence," said I.  " Ah ! You think of Monsieur ffoulkesAbney. Wait "Monsieur Fergus Abney died last year. He "was Catholic, and to the priest who gave him eztreme unction and absolved him he told a story which he wished re-told to the authorities at Lai War Office. Monsieur Fergus Abney was Irish by birth, but he was a naturalised Frenchman and a War Office spy. He was the spy on whose accumulated data the brothers Lapareerie were condemned to New Caledonia. Also, he—he-The had been the lover of Madame Laparcerie. Now, do you see light?" It's all simple," said I. "Madame Lapareerie threw him over. It was a question of revenge. He sold the plan to Germany, and the two brothers were innocent."  "It's all so simple," echoed Madame le Marquise, rather ironically. "Madame Laparcerie did throw him over. It was a question of revenge. He discovered that Gaston was the traitor. That wasn't enough for Monsieur Abney. He knew that, just as Pierre doted on his mother, his mother doted on Pierre. And so—he contrived matters in such a diabolically clover way that both her sons should be torn from her and consigned to a perpetual hell—and thus her heart be broken. He had his revenge. But on his deathbed he repented."  "I don't think much of deathbed repentances," said I. "And there was only his word." "Oh, no," said the Marquise, "there were documents—many documents—and all were transmitted to the Minister of War. The whole business was as clear as day. I could tell you all the facts, but the recital would take too much time. Take my word for it, Sir Nigel. " Well, when the Minister of War got at the heart of the business he caused notices addressed to Pierre Laparcerie to be inserted in all the chief foreign papers, announcing that his innocence having been proved, he was requested to return to France, and, if alive, resume his post and receive the indemnity the Government was ready to pay. That, of course, was done in case he had not committed suicide. No answer was ever received—in fact, no answer was expected. Yet—but let me stop here and ask you the question I asked when you had finished looking at the photographs —have you recognised any of the faces?"  "Gaston Lapareerie and Pierre Lapareerie," said I, "are, I believe, in London at this moment."  It was the Marquise's turn to start. "Yes," I went on, " I recognise two of those faces. It's all quite plain to mo now. Gaston I spoke to yesterday—" "You mean," said she, "the Due di Saraluna? At all events it's a remarkable resemblance, if nothing else." "And Pierre," I resumed. "Well, I did not speak to him, but a friend of mine did. More. I saw a photograph of him taken yesterday." "Yesterday, too?" "A photograph taken as he was committing a senseless murder--" " Pierre !" " The senseless murder of poor old ffoulkes-Abney."  The Marquise de Carhaix threw up her arms, and fell back in her chair, pale as death.  ® o®cocome ao—• of