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Show ' UfAPH AT THF TP IMF PI I IR frank bfoerst 1 THE CASE OF MADELINE FULFORD YOU will seek in vain, in any book of reference, for the name of the Crime club. Unostentatious as its existence is its headquarters a little hotel handy to the Strand, wherein some years aeo Forrester and Blake of the criminal investigation department had discovered a discreet manager, a capable chef and a back dining room. The progress of time, and the tact of the manager, had conceded a sitting room with a dozen or so big and deep armchairs. arm-chairs. Prom noon onward the two apartments apart-ments had become sacred to the Cnrr.e club. Strictly, it is an international club, for, although its most determined frequenters are a dozen Scotland Yard men, there is always a sprinkling of detectives from abroad to be found there. Sometimes, over coffee and cigars, the talk may drift to some of the affairs' of the profession. Some of these, not always told in the words of the original narrator, narra-tor, find a place in the present chronicles. chroni-cles. The strange case which centered - about the death of Madeline Fuiford is ane of the most remarkable of these. A blue haze of smoke, which even the electric fans could not entirely dispel, overhung the smoking saloon of the S. S. Columbia. "With the procrastination of confirmed poker players, they had lingered lin-gered at the game till well after midnight. mid-night. Silvervale cut off a remark to glance at his cards. He yawned as he flung them down. 'She can cali herself Eleanor De Reszke or anything else she likes on the passenger list," he declared languidly, "but she's Madeline Fuiford, all right, all right. She's come on a bit in the last two years, although she always was a bit of a high stepper. Wonder if De Reszke knows anything about Crake?" Across the table a sallow-faced man whose play had hitherto evinced no lack of nerve threw- in a full hand, aces up, on a. moderate rise. No one save hlm- self knew that he had worsted one of the best of averaged poker hands. His fingers, lean and tremulous, drummed mechanically on the table. For a second a pair of lusterless, frowning blue eyes rested on Silvervale's face. "So that's the woman who was In the Crake case? It was her evidence that got the poor devibseven years, wasn't it? As I remember the newspapers reports, she was a kind of devil incarnate." "I wouldn't go as far as that," observed ob-served Siivervale dryly, "and I'm a newspaper news-paper man myself. I didn't hear the trial, but I saw her afterward. It never came out why she gave him away. There must have been some mighty strong motive, mo-tive, for he had spent thousands on her. I guess there was another woman at the bottom of it. Anyway, her reasons don't matter. She cleared an ' unpleasant trickster out of the way and put him where he belongs. But for her he might-have might-have been carrying on that swindling bank of his now I'll take three cards." The man with the pale blue eyes jerked his head abruptly. "Yes, he's where he belongs." he asserted, "and she why, she's Mrs. "De Reszke and a deuced pretty woman Hello!" He broke off short, staring with fascinated eyes beyond Sil-vervale. Sil-vervale. The journalist swerved around in his chair to meet a livid face and furious furi-ous eyes within a foot of his own. x It was Richard De Reszke himself. He T had not made himself popular on ship-f ship-f board indeed, it is doubtful if he could t ever have been popular in any society, fcjfc A New Yorker who had made himself a millionaire in the boot trade, lie was ungracious un-gracious both in manner and speech. He had entered the saloon unperceived, and now his tall, usually shambling figure was unwontedly erect. His left hand big ant gnarled, it was fell with an ape-like clutch upon Silvervale's shoulder. "You scandal-mongering little set," he snarled, with a vicious tightening of the lips under his gray mustache. "By God, you'll admit you're a liar, or I'll shake the life out of you." The chair fell with a crash as he pulled the journalist forward. Men sprang to intervene between the two. Cursing and struggling, De Reszke was forced back, but it took four men to do it. Suddenly his resistance relaxed. "That's all right," he said quietly. "We'll let it go for now." A fresh access of passion shook him. and he sliot out a malignant oath. "I'll make you a sorry man yet for this, Mr. Silvervale." The journalist had picked up the fallen chair. His face was flushed, but he answered an-swered coolly. "I apologize," lie said quietly. " I had no business to talk of your wife." The stoop had come back to De Reszke's shoulders and he lifted one hand wearily to tug at his gray mustache. Then, without with-out another word, he turned and shambled from the room. There was a momentary silence, broken at last by the scratch of a match as someone some-one lit a cigarette. "Look out, Silvervale," said Bo wen, a " nM ''Some one will ha ve to pay for this." young New York banker. "Lucky for you we touch Southampton tomorrow. The old man is a-gunning for you sure. Hi? face meant murder." "Thanks. I'll look after my own corpse," drawled the journalist. The short remainder of the vovage, in spite of De Reszke's threat and the prophecy of Bowen, passed without incident. in-cident. It was not till he was back in London that the episode was recalled to Silvervale's mind. The boat train had reached Waterloo in the early afternoon, and at 6 o'clock Silvervale, for all that his two months' vacation had yet three days to run, had been drawn into the, stir and stress of Fle.et street. The harassed news editor of the Morning Morn-ing Wire was working at speed through a basket of accumulated copy. He paused long enough-to shake hands and exchange ex-change a remark or two, and then resumed re-sumed his labors with redoubled ardor, for he was eager to hand over the reins to his night assistant. He snatched irritably at a piece of tape that was handed to him by a boy, and then adjusting his pince-nez, glanced at Silvervale. "Here's a funny thing, gilver. Didn't you come back on the Columbia? Read that." , Silvervale took the thin strip and slowly slow-ly read it through. "Five-forty. Mrs. Eleanor De Reszke, the wife of an American millionaire, was this afternoon found shot doact in her sitting room at the Palatial hotel. She had been at the hotel only an hour or two, having arrived by the Columbia from New York this morning." j Hardened journalist though he was, 1 with a close acquaintance with many of 1 the bizarre aspects of tragedy, Silver- I vale could not repress a little shudder, j "Yes. It'e queer, Danvers," he said, ' unsteadily, "deuced queer." Then ith a realization that the news editor was regarding re-garding him with curiosity: "I'm sorry. 1 old man ; you musn't ask me to handle the story. You'd better put Blackwood on it. It should be a good yarn, but I'm ; rather mixed up in it. I may be called as a witness." He made haste to escape before he could be questioned. j Out on Fleet street he hailed a taxi and j was driven straight to the Palatial hotel. ho-tel. A couple of men were in - the big hail smilingly parrying the questions of half a dozen journalists. One of them siiook his head as Silvervale pushed his way to the front. Silvervale managed to get the detective detec-tive aside. "You must give me five minutes, min-utes, Forrester," he whispered hastily. "I know who killed her." "The deuce you do," said the detective. detec-tive. "Come, let's get out of this. Half a moment, Roker." His assistant disengaged himself from the other newspaper men, and Forrester led the way to the lift. At the third floor they emerged. Very quietly the door of tiie lift closed behind them, and half unconsciously Silvervale found himself him-self tiptoeing along the corridor, although in any event the soft carpet would have deadened all sound. A man standing stiffly against a white door, flung it open as they approached. Within, a couple of men were bending, over something on a couch, and two more were busy near the window overlooking the river. No one looked up. Forrester passed straight through to another and smaller room and fitted his burly form to a basket armchair. He waved Silvervale to another. an-other. "And now fire away, sonny," he said. Concisely, in quick, succinct sentences, Silvervale told his story. -As he concluded, con-cluded, Forrester drew a worn briar pipe from his pocket and packed it with a meditative forefinger. "Are you writing anything about this?" "Not a word. I know I may be wanted as a witness." "That's true." The inspector puffed contemplatively for a moment. "Then there's this I don't mind telling you. There was a pistol a five-chambered revolver found clutched in the woman's hand. But De Reszke is missing. He never came with her to the hole)." "Then you think it is suicide?" The detective leaned forward and leveled a heavy forefinger at his questioner. ques-tioner. "You've earned a right to know something of this business, Mr. Silvervale. Silver-vale. It's no suicide. No. Mr. Silvervale, this is a carefully calculated murder, if there was one. And I think your information in-formation will help us to fix the man. Roker" he addressed hi companion "you might get hold of the maid again. Get a full description of le Reszke, and there's bound to be a photograph some- and have 'em circulated. Ys'e merely want to question him, mind. Now, Mr. Silvervale, we'll see what the doctors say." The two doctors, the police divisional surgeon and the medical man who had been first called on the discovery or the murder had finished their examination as Forrester parsed into the next room. Tie spoke a few words in an undertone to the surgeon, who nodded asscntingly. As soon as the doctor had gone the inspector extracted a small bottle of black powder from his pocket and sprinkled it delicately over the open pages of a book resting on a table a couple of yards from the couch. Presently he blew the fituff away. The finger prints had developed in relief on the white margin. "There's a blotting pad over there on the writing table, Mr. Silvervale," he said: "would you mind helping me for a moment?" Forrester was cool andv businesslike, yet it was very gently that he lifted tiie dead white hands and impressed the finger tips on a sheet of paper on top of the pad. Silently he compared the impressions with those on the book. "I'm only an amaleur at this finger print game," he said at last. "Grant ought to have been here. See if you make these prints, agree. Mr. Silvervale." Silvervale carried the hook to the window win-dow a nd be n t his b rows over it. He found it slow work, hut at Inst he raised his head. "These are her thumb prints on the outer margin." he said. "The one a,t the but torn of tiie boo); is not hers." "Tha t's how T make it. Now we can get a fair theory of how the thing was done; Mrs. Pe Reszke was on the couch reading. The murderer entered soft v from the corridor, closing I lie d"or he-hind he-hind him. She looked up and pla.vd tiie honk beside her. He must have fired pointhlank. Then, to work out his idea of suicide, he placed the pistol in her hand, and, picking up the book, put it on t he table. Here's where we tart from a pipce of indisputable proof when we catch the murderer." A little conicmpl at the apparent deliberation de-liberation of the detective at ihc finesse wasted pn what seemed an obvious case had conic to Silvervale's mind. Me hazarded haz-arded a suggestion; Forrester grinned. "I'll her a dollar I know what yon're I iii n king. I'm wasting my time meddling with details wiiile the murderer's escaping. es-caping. To yon know T've Wd five men hen? questioning everyone wiio might know anything about tiie case? Mrs. l"e Keszko ha s receive 1 no one ; no one re-semi'limr re-semi'limr her bus! and has be"ii seen in tiie ho;td. Lo you know tha t t here is not one railway station in London, not one hotel that is not even now being searched for a trace of De Reszke? We are not so slow as our critics think. If De Reszke did this murder he won't get away, you can take it from me. There's plenty of people trying to catch him I've seen to that." He moved heavily to 'the door. "I'm going on to the Yard," he said. "Care to come?" As they turned under the lug wrought iron arch that spans tiie entrance to'New Scotland Yard Silvervale noted that they avoided the little back door that leads to the criminal investigation department, and went up by the broad main entrance to those rooms on one of the topmost floors devoted to the finger print department. depart-ment. Grant, the chief of the department, a black-mustacbed giant with lined fore- ! head and shrewd, penetrative eyes, was seated at a low table pushing a magnifying magni-fying glass across a sheet of paper. Forrester For-rester had clapped him heavily on the 1 shoulder and he wheeled around frown-ingSy. frown-ingSy. Forrester produced the book he had found at the hotel and the scrap of paper pa-per on which he had taken the murdered woman's finger prints, "It's the palatial pala-tial hotel business. The prints on the paper are those of Mrs. De Reszke. They agree with those on the sides of the book. The one at the bottom of the book is that of the murderer." "H'm." Grant glanced at the prints and gave a corroborative nod. "You'll want photographs of these, I suppose?" "Yes as soon as I can get them. I suppose sup-pose you'll have .to have a search to make sure that the other print isn't on the records. It's unlikely, though." . Grant dismissed them abruptly, and , they could hear ids deep voice thundering thunder-ing into the telephone receiver as they j made their exit. He was ordering f.ie ! wire to be sent 'recalling one of the staff I photographers. As in any other big bust- I ness firm, the ordinary staff of Scotland j Yard goes off duty at 6. Downstairs in his own room, Forrester found three or four subordinates and a handful of reports and messages awaiting him. His leisurely manner dropped from him. He , became brisk, official, brusk. A shorthand clerk with open notebook was waiting, and to him the chief inspector inspec-tor poured out the bulk of his Instructions Instruc-tions to be forwarded by telegraph or telephone. Forrester dismissed the clerk at last There was no waste of words on either side. As the final subordinate left the room Forrester yawned and stretched himself wearily. "That's all right," he said. "I guess w can't do anything more for an hour or two. It may interest you, Mr. Silvervale, Silver-vale, to know that De Reszke has booked a passage back to New York in his own name, by the boat that leaves Liverpool the day after tomorrow. He called at the steamer offices at 5 o'clock. It's a bluff, I guess, and pretty obvious at that. He thinks we'll concentrate attention on that scent while he slips some other way. Yes what is it?" Someone had ton the door open hurriedly. hur-riedly. A young man, tall and sparse, whispered a few words into Forrester's ear. The chief inspector sat up as though galvanized. His hand searched for the telephone. "Get him out through here. You have a taxlcab ready. Bolt. You may have to come with me." The young man vanished and Forrester spoke into the telephone. "Hello, that you, Gould ? Yes, this is Forrester At the Metz, you say How many 'men have you? All right, I'll be along straight away. Good-by." "J. oca ted him?" ventured Silvervale. "Yes." Forrester's brow was puckered. "He's at the Metz under his own name. Hanged if I can make it out. He's either mad or he's got the nerve of the very devil. Gome on!" Holt was awaiting them in a taxicab outside, whirr) whirled them swiftly away as they took their s--ats. They drew up in Piccadilly, a hundred yards oro from the severe a relies of the great hotel, and walked forward till they were met by a bronzed, well-dressed man of middle age who nodded affably and fell into step with them. "Well. Gould?" queried Forrester. "Kverything serene, sir. He's gone In to dinner. There's two of our men dining din-ing at the next table." Five, minutes later a waiter crossed the snftlv-lighted dining room with a card. It did not contain Forrester's jiame nor, indeed, that of anyone he knew. Nor did I -; Reszke seem to know it. for he firnvned as the waiter presented it to him. "I don't know any Mr. Grahame Johnson.'' John-son.'' he said. "This isn't for me." The waiter was deferential. "The gentleman gen-tleman said, 'Mr. John De Reszke.' sir. He says it's very urgent, and wants you to spa re him- a minute in the smoking room." The millionaire slowly divested hi nisei f of his serviette, and. rising, sb:inihh'ii I after the waiter. I i Forrester and his companions were waiting in a small room which had been placed at their disposal. As De Reszke was ushered in. the first face he caught sight of was that of Silvervale. His fare lowered and he paused on the threshold. Quickly and deftly Gould shouldered by him as though to pass out. De Reszke gave way and the detective closed the door and leaned nonchalantly against it. ; "Mr. De Reszke," said Forrester quickly, "I am a police officer. Your wdfe has been murdered since her arrival in London. Lon-don. If you wish to make any statements state-ments as to your movements you may do so, though I must warn you that unless you can definitely convince me that you had no hand in the murder :I may have to arrest you." 1 Blankly, uncomprehendingly, Mr. De Reszke stared in front of him as though he had not heard. The life seemed to have gone out of hipi. "You heard me?" questioned Forrester sharply. "I heard you," said De Reszke dully. "You say Nell's dead no, not Nell her name's not Eleanor; it's Madeline Madeline Fuiford ; that's it she's been murdered? I heard ha! ha! ha!" He broke into shrill, uncanny laughter, and then, pressing both hands to his temples, pitched forward "heavily to the floor. "A doctor, someone," ordered Forrester, Forres-ter, and Gould vanished. Unconscious, De Reszke was lifted to a couch by the other oth-er three. Forrester shrugged his shoulders. shoul-ders. "Looks like a bad job," he muttered. mut-tered. The doctor summoned by Gould eon-firmed eon-firmed the suspicion. "It's a paralytic stroke," he explained. "I doubt if he'll ever get over it. You gentlemen are friends of his?" "Of course," agreed Forrester. The inevitable search of De Reszke's room and baggage had been conducted with thoroughness, but it yielded nothing that seemed of importance to the investigation. in-vestigation. Forrester voiced his misgivings misgiv-ings as he walked back to Scotland Yard with Silvervale. "This business is running too smoothly. I don't like it. I feel there's a smack in the eye coming from somewhere. There's several little odds and ends to be cleared up. It would have been easier if he hadn't had that stroke." "There's the finger print on the book," ventured Silvervale. "Yes. I took De Reszke's and sent Bolt with them to the Yard. Grant will have fixed all that up by the time we : get there." Grant was waiting for them when they J arrived. On his table he had spread out a series of enlargements of finger prints. He shook his head gravely at Forrester. , "It's no good, old chap," he said. "These things you sent up by Bolt don't tally." , Forrester, suddenly arrested with his ; overcoat half off, felt his jaw drop. For a second he frowned upon Grant. Then j he writhed himself free of the garment, i "Don't tally!" he repeated. "You're Jok- ! ing. Grant. They must." i "Well, they don't." ! The chief detective inspector brought j his fist down with a bang on the table. He laid no claim to the superhuman in- : telligence of the story-book detectives. I Therefore he was considerably annoyed j at this abrupt discovery of a vital flaw ' In the chain of evidence that connected De Rci-zke with the murder. , I "Tt beats me," he declared viciously, j "It fairly beats me. Who else could have i done it? Who else had a motive?" I Grant stole otit of the room, and Silver- I vale remained discreetly silent. Forrest- er rested his elbows on the table and his 1 chin in his cupped hands, striving to re-I call some avenue of investigation that j he might have overlooked. Suddenly his face lighted and he: jerked himself from his chair with a' swift movement of his whole body. lg- . noring the journalist, he rushed from the room. Tt was long before he returned. When he did lie was accompanied bv Grant. "Tell me" he addressed Silven ale 1 "did you ever see Crake?" 1 The other shook his head. "I was out of town when he was tried. It was after: the case was over that I interviewed Madeline Fuiford." Grant was frowning. "If I hadn't seen the records. Forrester. I'd say you were mad. It's the most unheard-of thing '' "We'll see whether I'm mad or not." said the chief inspector grimly. He placed a photograph, the official side and full-face, before Silvervale. "Did you ever see that man before?" "No." "Nor that?" Tiie second photograph was a studio portrait with the name of a Strand firm at tiie bottom. It awoke some vague reminiscence in Silvervale. He held it closer to the light. 1 "Wait a minute." Grant placed a sheet of paper over the bottom of the face, hiding the mustache and chin. Recollection Recollec-tion came to Silvervale in a flash. It was Norman, the man with the lusterless blue eyes, who had commented on Madeline Fuiford in the smoking room of the Columbia. Co-lumbia. He explained. "The hair's done differently," differ-ently," he added, "but I can recognize the upper part of the face, though he's older now than when this photograph was taken. x Do you think he's mixed up in this?" "Maybe." answered Forrester, enigmatically. enigmat-ically. "I'll have a man motor down to the prison now" he was speaking to Grant "and we'll go on to Palatial. If I'm any judge he'll still be there. His room was number 47?, almost opposite her suite. I had him questioned, of course, but I never dreamed " Silvervale lift a cigarette resignedly. "Tt's all Greek to me," he complained. "Still, I have no right to ask questions." "You'll understand In an hour or two." said Forrester. "It would take too long to explain now. Come on and you'll see what vou'll see." It was back to the Palatial hotel that he took the journalist and a couple of subordinates. There he remained closeted closet-ed with the manager for five minutes. He reappeared with that functionary, a master mas-ter kev dangling on his finger. "Our bird's at home," he said. "Gone to roost, probably." Not bins: more was said till they reached the third floor. The manager led the war until they came opposite a door facing the suite which Mrs. De Reszke had occupied. "This is number 472." he sr. id in a low voice. "Shall I knock?" Forrester made a gesture of dissent and his hand fell coaxingly on the door. He made no sound as he rushed a key In the door and turned it. With a sharp push the door flew open, and a quick, angry quest ion was succeeded by confused sounds of a struggle. The next Silvervale isaw was a pajamas-clad man being held on the bed with Forrester and a colleague col-league at either wrist. "I don't know who you are or the meaning of this outrage," he protested angrily. "Someone will have to pay for this." "Hold on to his hand a minute. Roker," said Forrester, and one of the other detectives de-tectives seized the wrist he had been grasping. Tiie chief inspector thrust his hand beneath be-neath the pillow and produced a small automatic pistol. "I just grabbed him in time," he said, a little breathlessly. "I want to know " persisted the prisoner. Forrester' turned sternly upon him. "1 am a police officer," he said. "I am arresting ar-resting you as an escaped convict, one John Crake." ' Something approaching a gleam of interest in-terest shot into Crake's lifeless eyes. "So that's it, is it?" he said quietly. "I wonder how you got on to it. According to official reckoning, John Crake has still got five years to serve." At an order from Forrester his clothes were searched and passed to him. He was adjusting his tie with a steady hand when he next shot a question : "You have something else to say?" "That can wait," returned Forrester. "Remember that anything you say " "I know," interrupted Crake; "you're bound to give that warning. What's the good of all this finesse, Mr. er er For- anything you'd better listen now wiiile I'm in the mood. First of all, thong n, 1 how did you get on to me?" "There was a fing.-r print, and we had : yours in tiie records taken when you : were on trial for tiie ot her thing." "Look here," Crake spoke as though he was merely an interested observer, with no personal concern in the affair. "You'd better teil me the full story, and it there are any gaps I'll I'ill them in for you. Is that a bargain?" Forrester reflected a moment. "Al right," he agreed with a glance at Silvervale. Sil-vervale. "There can be no barm In that if you want to know. In the first place, when the woman was found it was eas to penetrate the idea of a clumsy attempt at-tempt to simulate suicide. We hud lit tit to guide us beyond the fact that she was. la Mrs. De 'Reszke, .who had come from I the states in the Columbia. Then Mr. Silvervale here. turned up with tlu story of the bother on board, and some of our men picked up the same story from other passengers we tiaced out. Of course, with De Reszke missing, we went off full cry on a talse trail. There were i scores of circumstances t hat pointed I against him. and but for the accident ot the finger print it might have looked very ugly." "1 don't understand about that finger print," remarked' Crake. "It was left on the book the woman had been reading when you placed it on the table. Well, anyway, we got De Reszke. and when 1 found that his linger print did not agree with that on the book I was at a dead loss. Of course. 1 had had your record looked tip when Mr. Silvervale Sil-vervale identified the dead woman as Madeline Fuiford. and I found you we re-supposed re-supposed to be still in prison. Naturally, we had not considered you utter that. Rut when I found myself right up against it I took a forlorn chance and compared the prints from the book with those we had of yours. Then Mr. Silvervale identified iden-tified a portrait of you as that of a passenger pas-senger named Norman who came over on the Columbia. I remembered- that a -Mr. Norman had been questioned here by our people, and we came on. That's all." Crake's thin lips curved into a sneer. "It was just the off chance of your comparing com-paring the prints that did it." he said. Forrester made a disclaiming gesture. "The records would have been searched sooner or later in any event, and we'd have hit on you. It would have taken a day or two, though, and you'd have got a start." "And you don't know how- it Is I'm Mill not m prison, and no one knows I've been at large for a year." "No, not altogether." admitted the chief detective carelessly. "There's been a change of identity and big bribery somewhere. That's for the prison people to explain." He was careful not to ask any questions. "Well." said Crake, slowly. "I can help you out on that. This is what happened hap-pened : When that Jezebal there" lie jerked his thumb toward the door "sold me at the trial 1 swore I'd get quits witli her, if I swung for it." He spat out the words in an even voice that made them ten times more, venomous. "Mark you. in the time that I knew her she had bled me for thousands. Then when the other man turned up she had to get rid of me and the OKI Bailey was the method she chose. I don't know if any of you gentlemen gen-tlemen know what hate is-! real white-hot, white-hot, darning hatred that eats a ma n's vitals out" lie choked a little "but never mind that. Mv first idea was to work an escape, for 1 knew my sentence would not be a light one. I had plent y of money never mind how I kept it out of other people's clutches. "There was a man sentenced the same day as myself to two years. There was a certain similarity between us in height ,and build and physical characteristics! don't mean that we were in any wav doubles, but it was enough to give me. an idea when I learned that after the rising of the court we were to be taken to a fresh prison. In the van I got my chance. N I offered him a thousand a year to exchange sentences and identities with me seven thousand pounds in all. He fell in with the idea, and when we descended de-scended in the prison yard he was John Crake and T I was Isaac Wells. That was his name. "I had forgotten one thing. When my term or rather Wells's term was drawing draw-ing to a close my finger prints were to be taken again as a matter of ordinary-routine ordinary-routine to be sent to Scotland Yard for comparison. That staggered me at first, but I was not done. My prison record had been good and that and t he fact that I was well educated caused me now and again to be chosen for work in the office. I watched and waited, and pure accident helped me at last. I managed to lay my hand for a few seconds on the prints the day they were to he sent to London. A nd the prints that went up were those of the real Wells. "I wanted to ho free partly for the sake of freedom, mainly to get even with Madeline Fuiford. Prison had altered my appearance in some respects, and I did what I could myself. I won't trouble you with my adventures in tracking her down. I found the man for whom I had been sacrificed had committed suicide in Paris, and from there I followed her all over the world, sometimes going on a blind, sometimes getting a hint here or there that satisfied me I should get her sooner or later. I heard at last that she bad married De Reszke, and I reached New York a day before 'they sailed for England. En-gland. "There was a vacant berth on the Columbia Co-lumbia and I took it. I kept out of hcr sight, but I watched for my chance like a cat. She never seemed to be alone, and It was not my purpose to take any risk of involving myself If it could be avoided. Then there was a row in the smoking smok-ing room. That frightened me for a while, but when I saw that Mr. Silvervale Silver-vale did not recognize me I did not mind. "I was in the next carriage to her in the boat train from Southampton to Lon- . don and my taxicab was close behind hers when she arrived at the Palatial. I took this room on the same floor as her suite and you know the rest." |