"After the affair at Harrington Gardens," Edwards remarked.

"Yes; after the murder of Marie Bracq, he lost no time in disposing of the concession."

"It's a lie!" cried the accused. "That girl there killed her. I didn't—she was jealous of her!"

My love shrank at the man's words, yet still clinging to me, her beautiful countenance pale as death, her lips half parted, her eyes staring straight in front of her.

"Phrida," I said in a low voice, full of sympathy, "you hear what this man has alleged? Now that the truth is being told, will you, too, not speak? Speak!" I cried in my despair, "speak, dearest, I beg of you!"

"No," she sighed. "You—you would turn from me—you would hate me!"

And at her words Cane burst into a peal of harsh, triumphant laughter.



CHAPTER XXXI.

SHOWS THE TRUTH-TELLER.

"Speak, laidee," urged the Peruvian. "Speak—tell truth. Senos know—he know!"

But my love was still obdurate.

"I prefer to face death," she whispered, "than to reveal the bitter truth to you, dear."

What could I do? The others heard her words, and Cane was full of triumph.

"I think, Miss Shand, that you should now tell whatever you know of this complicated affair. The truth will certainly have to be threshed out in a criminal court."

But she made no answer, standing there, swaying slightly, with her white face devoid of expression.

"Let Senos tell you some-tings," urged the narrow-eyed native. "When that man kill my master he fly to Lisbon. There Mrs. Petre meet him and go London. There he become Sir Digby Kemsley, and I see him often, often, because I crossed as stoker on same boat. He go to Luxemburg. I follow. One day he see Grand Duke's daughter—pretty young laidee—and somebody tell him she go to Egypt. She go, and he follow. I wait in Marseilles. I sell my rugs, wait three, four weeks and meet each steamer from Alexandria. At last he come with three laidees, and go to the Louvre et Paix, where I sell my rugs outside the cafe. I see he always with her—walking, driving, laughing. I want to tell her the truth—that the man is not my master, but his assassin. Ah! but no opportunity. They go to Paris. Then she and the laidees go to Luxemburg, and he to London. I follow her, and stay in Luxemburg to sell my shawls, and to see her. She drive out of the palace every day. Once I try and speak to her, but police arrest me and keep me prison two days—ugh! After a week she with another laidee go to Paris; then she alone go to Carlton Hotel in London. I watch there and see Cane call on her. He no see me—ah, no! I often watch him to his home in Harrington Gardens; often see him with that woman Petre, and once I saw Luis with them. I have much patience till one day the young lady leave the hotel herself and walk along Pall Mall. I follow and stop her. She very afraid of dark man, but I tell her no be afraid of Senos. Quick, in few words, I tell her that her friend not my master, Sir Digby—only the man who killed him. She dumbstruck. Tells me I am a liar, she will not believe. I repeat what I said, and she declares I will have to prove what I say. I tell her I am ready, and she askes me to meet her at same place and same time to-morrow. She greatly excited, and we part. Senos laughs, for he has saved young laidee—daughter of a king—from that man."

"What? You actually told her Highness!" cried Fremy in surprise.

"I told her how my master had been killed by that man—with the snake—and I warned her to avoid him. But she hesitated to believe Senos," was the native's reply. "Of course, she not know me. That was date six January. I remember it, for that night, poor young laidee—she die. She killed!"

"What?" Edwards cried, staring at the speaker. "She was killed, you say?"

"Yes," Fremy interrupted, "Marie Bracq was the name assumed by her Highness, the daughter of the Grand Duke. She loved freedom from all the trammels of court life, and as I have told you, went about Europe with her maid as her companion, travelling in different names. Mademoiselle Marie Bracq was one that it seems she used, only we did not discover this until after her death, and after his Highness had paid the quarter of a million francs to regain the concession he had granted—money which, I believe, the French Government really supplied from their secret service fund."

"Then it was the daughter of the Grand Duke who fell a victim in Cane's flat?" I gasped in utter surprise at this latest revelation.

"Yes, m'sieur," replied Fremy. "You will recollect, when you told us at the Prefecture of the name of the victim, how dumbfounded we were."

"Ah, yes, I recollect!" I said. "I remember how your chief point-blank refused to betray the confidence reposed in him."

And to all this the assassin of Sir Digby Kemsley listened without a word, save to point to my love, and declare:

"There stands the woman who killed Marie Bracq. Arrest her!"

Phrida stood rigid, motionless as a statue.

"Yes," she exclaimed at last, with all her courage, "I—I will speak. I—I'll tell you everything. I will confess, for I cannot bear this longer. And yet, dearest," she cried, turning her face to me and looking straight into my eyes, "I love you, though I now know that after I have spoken—after I have told the truth—you will despise and hate me! Ah, God alone knows how I have suffered! how I have prayed for deliverance from this. But it cannot be. I have sinned, I suppose, and I must bear just punishment."

There was silence.

We all looked at her, though the woman Petre was still lying in her chair unconscious, and upon the assassin's lips was a grim smile.

"You recollect," Phrida said, turning to me, "you remember the day when you introduced that man to me. Well, from that hour I knew no peace. He wrote to me, asking me to meet him, as he had something to tell me concerning my future. Well, I foolishly met him one afternoon in Rumpelmeyer's, in St. James's Street, when he told me that he had purchased a very important German patent for the manufacture of certain chemicals which would revolutionise prices, and would bring upon your firm inevitable ruin, as you pursued the old-fashioned methods. But, being your friend, and respecting us both, he had decided not to go further with the new process, and though he had given a large sum of money for it, he would, in our mutual interests, not allow it to be developed. Naturally, in my innocence I thanked him, and from that moment, professing great friendliness towards you, we became friends. Sometimes I met him at the houses of friends, but he always impressed upon me the necessity of keeping our acquaintance a secret."

And she paused, placing her hand upon her heart as though to stay its throbbing.

"One afternoon," she resumed, "the day of the tragedy, I received a telegram urging me to meet him without fail at five o'clock at Rumpelmeyer's. This I did, when he imparted to me a secret—that you, dear, were in the habit of meeting, at his flat, a foreign woman named Marie Bracq, daughter of a hair-dresser in the Edgware Road; that you, whom I loved, were infatuated with her, and—and that——"

"The liar!" I cried.

"He told me many things which naturally excited me, and which, loving you as I did, drove me to madness. I refused at first to heed his words, for somehow I mistrusted him—I know not why! But he offered to give me proof. If I went that night, or early in the morning, to Harrington Gardens, I would find her there, and I might question her. Imagine my state of mind after what he had revealed to me. I promised I would come there in secret, and I went home, my mind full of the lies and suspicion which he had, I now see, so cleverly suggested. I didn't then know him to be an assassin, but, mistrusting him as I did, I took for my own protection the old knife from the table in the drawing-room, and concealed it inside my blouse. At one o'clock next morning I crept out of the house noiselessly, and walked to Harrington Gardens, where I opened the outer door with the latch-key he had given me. On ascending to his flat I heard voices—I heard your voice, dear—therefore I descended into the dark and waited—waited until you came down the stairs and left. I saw you, and I was mad—mad! Then I went up, and he admitted me. The trap was already laid for me. I crossed that threshold to my doom!"

"How?" I asked in my despair. "Tell me all, Phrida,—everything!"

But at this point the Peruvian, Senos, interrupted, saying:

"Let me speak, sare. I tell you," he cried quickly.

"When I speak to the lady in Pall Mall I follow her. She go that afternoon to Harrington Gardens, but there see Mrs. Petre, whom she already know. Mrs. Petre find her excited, and after questioning her, induce her to tell her what I say—that Cane he kill my master. Then Mrs. Petre say, Sir Digby away in the country—not return to London—at Paddington—till one o'clock in the morning. I listen to it all, for Senos friend of the hall-porter—eh? So young laidee she says she come late in the night—half-past one or two o'clock—and ask himself the truth. But Cane in his room all the time, of course."

"Well, Phrida?" I asked quickly. "Tell us what happened on that night when you entered."

"Yes," cried Cane sarcastically, "Lie to them—they'll believe you, of course!"

"When I entered that man took me into the sitting-room, and I sat down. Naturally I was very upset. Mrs. Petre, whom I had met before, was there, and after he had told me many things about your relations with the daughter of a hair-dresser—things which maddened me—Mrs. Petre admitted her from the adjoining room. I was mad with jealousy, loving you as I did. What happened between us I do not know. I—I only fear that—that I took the knife from my breast and, in a frenzy of madness—killed her!" And she covered her face with her hands.

"Exactly!" cried Cane. "I'm glad you have the moral courage to admit it."

"But describe exactly what occurred—as far as you know," Edwards said, pressing her.

"I know that I was in a frenzy of passion, and hysterical, perhaps," she said at last. "I recollect Mrs. Petre saying that I looked very unwell, and fetching me some smelling-salts from the next room. I smelt them, but the odour was faint and strange, and a few moments later I—well, I knew no more."

"And then—afterwards?" I asked very gravely.

"When, later on I came to my senses," she said in slow, hard tones, as though reflecting, "I found the girl whom I believed to be my rival in your affections lying on the ground. In her breast was the knife. Ah, shall I ever forget that moment when I realised what I had done! Cane was bending over me, urging me to remain calm. He told me that my rival was dead—that I had killed her and that she would not further interfere with my future. I—I saw him bend over the body, withdraw the knife, and wipe it upon his handkerchief, while that woman, his accomplice, looked on. Then he gave me back the knife, which instinctively I concealed, and bade me go quickly and noiselessly back home, promising secrecy, and declaring that both he and Mrs. Petre would say nothing—that my terrible secret was safe in their hands. I believed them, and I crept down the stairs out into the road, and walked home to Cromwell Road. I replaced the knife in the drawing-room, and I believed them until—until I knew that you guessed my secret! Then came that woman's betrayal, and I knew that my doom was sealed," she added, her chin sinking upon her breast.

"You see," laughed Cane defiantly, "that the girl admits her guilt. She was jealous of Marie Bracq, and in a frenzy of passion struck her down. Mrs. Petre was there and witnessed it. She will describe it all to you, no doubt, when she recovers."

"And what she will say is one big lie," declared Senos, coming forward again. "We all know Mrs. Petre," he laughed in his high-pitched voice; "she is your tool—she and Luis. But he become a snake-charmer and give exhibitions at music-halls. He bit by one snake at Darlington, a month ago, and die quick. Ah, yes! Senos know! Snake bite him, because he brought snake and give him to that man to bite my poor master."

"Why will Mrs. Petre tell lies, Senos?" demanded Edwards who, with Fremy, was listening with the greatest interest and putting the threads of the tangled skein together in their proper sequence.

"Because I, Senos, was at Harrington Gardens that night. I knew that the laidee I had spoken to was going there, and I feared that some-ting might happen, for Cane a desperate man when charged with the truth."

"You were there!" I gasped. "What do you know?"

"Well, this," said the narrow-eyed man who had hunted down the assassin of his master. "I waited outside the house—waited some hours—when about eleven Cane he came down and unfastened the door and leave it a little open. I creep in, and soon after you, Mr. Royle, you come in. I wait and see you go upstairs. Then I creep up and get out of the window on the landing and on to the roof, where I see inside Cane's room—see all that goes on. My friend, the hall-porter, he tell me this sometime before, and I find the spot where, kneeling down, I see between the blinds. I see you talk with him and I see you go. Then I see Miss Shand—she come in and Mrs. Petre, and Cane talk to her. She very excited when she meet young laidee, and Mrs. Petre she give her bottle to smell. Then she faint off. The laidee, daughter of great Duke, she say something to Cane. He furious. She repeat what I say to her. Then Mrs. Petre, who had given Miss Shand the smelling-salts, find knife in her breast and secretly puts it into Cane's hand. In a moment Cane strikes the young lady with it—ah! full in the chest—and she sinks on the floor—dead! It went into her heart. Cane and the woman Petre talk in low whispers for few minutes, both very afraid. Then Miss Shand she wakes, opens her eyes, and sees the young laidee dead on the floor. She scream, but Mrs. Petre puts her hand over her mouth. Cane take out the knife, wipe it, and after telling her something, Miss Shand creep away. Oh, yes, Senos he see it all! Miss Shand quite innocent—she do nothing. Cane kill daughter of the great Duke—he with his own hand—he kill her. Senos saw him—with his own eyes!"

"Ah!" I cried, rushing towards the native, and gripping both his brown hands. "Thank you, Senos, for those words. You have saved the woman I love, for you are an eye-witness to that man's crime which with such subtle ingenuity he has endeavoured to fasten upon her, and would have succeeded had it not been for your dogged perseverance and astuteness."

"He kill my master," replied the Peruvian simply. "I watch him and convict him. He bad assassin, gentlemens—very bad man!"



CHAPTER XXXII.

IS THE CONCLUSION.

"Do you really believe that man?" asked Cane, turning to us quite coolly, a sarcastic smile upon his lips.

He was a marvellous actor, for he now betrayed not the slightest confusion. He even laughed at the allegations made against him. His bold defiance utterly amazed us. Yet we knew now how resourceful and how utterly unscrupulous he was.

"Yes, I do!" was the officer's reply. "You murdered her Highness, fearing that she should go to her father and expose you before you could have time to dispose of your stolen concession to him. Had she gone to him, the police would hunt you down as Sir Digby's assassin. But by closing her lips you hoped to be able to sell back the concession and still preserve your guilty secret."

"Of course," remarked Fremy, "the whole affair is now quite plain. Poor Miss Shand was drawn into the net in order to become this scoundrel's victim. He intended from the first to make use of her in some way, and did so at last by making her believe she had killed her alleged rival in Mr. Royle's affection. Truly this man is a clever and unscrupulous scoundrel, for he succeeded in obtaining a quarter of a million francs from a reigning sovereign for a document, to obtain which he had committed a foul and dastardly crime!"

"A lie—lies, all of it!" shouted the accused angrily, his face as white as paper.

"Oh, do not trouble," laughed Fremy, speaking in French. "You will have an opportunity to make your defence before the judge—you and your ingenious accomplice, Mrs. Petre."

"We want her in England for the attempted murder of Mr. Royle," Edwards remarked. "I'll apply for her extradition to-morrow. Your chief will, no doubt, decide to keep Cane here—at least, for the present. We shall want him for the murder of the Englishman, Sir Digby Kemsley."

"You may want me," laughed the culprit with an air of supreme defiance, "but you'll never have me! Oh, no, no! I'll remain over here, and leave you wanting me."

"Prisoner, what is the use of these denials and this defiance?" asked Fremy severely in French, advancing towards him. "You are in my custody—and under the law of the Kingdom of Belgium I arrest you for the murder of Sir Digby Kemsley, in Peru, and for the murder of Stephanie, daughter of his Highness the Grand Duke of Luxemburg." Then, turning to his two subordinates, he added briefly: "Put the handcuffs on him! He may give trouble!"

"Handcuffs! Ha, ha!" cried Senos the Peruvian, laughing and snapping his brown fingers in the prisoner's face. "It is my triumph now. Senos has avenged the death of his poor, good master!"

"A moment," exclaimed the prisoner. "I may at least be permitted to secure my papers before I leave here, and hand them over to you? They will, perhaps, interest you," he said quite coolly. Then he took from his watch-chain a small key, and with it opened a little cupboard in the wall, from whence he took a small, square deed-box of japanned tin, which he placed upon the table before us.

With another and smaller key, and with a slight grin upon his face, he opened the lid, but a cry of dismay escaped us, for next second we saw that he held in his hand a small, black object, sinuous and writhing—a small, thin, but highly venomous black snake!

It was over in an instant, ere we could realise the truth. Upon his white wrist I saw a tiny bead of blood, where the reptile had struck and bitten him, and as he flung it back into the box and banged down the lid he turned upon us in defiance, and said:

"Now take me! I am ready," he cried, uttering a peal of fiendish laughter. "Carry me where you will, for in a few moments I shall be dead. Ah! yes, my good friends! I have played the great game—and lost. Yet I've cheated you all, as I always declared that I would."

The two men sprang forward to slip the metal gyves upon his wrists, but Fremy, noticing the instant change in the assassin's countenance, motioned them off.

The culprit's face grew ashen grey, his thin jaws were fixed. He tried to utter some further words, but no sound came from him, only a low gurgle.

We stood by and watched. He placed both his palms to his brow and stood for a few seconds in the centre of the room. Then a paroxysm of pain seemed to double him completely up, and he fell to the carpet writhing in most fearful agony. It was horrible to witness, and Phrida, with a cry, turned away.

Then suddenly he lay stiff, and stretched his limbs to such an extent that we could hear the bones crack. His back became arched, and then he expired with horrible convulsions, which held his limbs stiffened and extended to their utmost limits—truly, the most awful and agonising of deaths, and a torture in the last moments that must have been excruciating—a punishment worse, indeed, than any that man-made law might allow.

* * * * *

As Herbert Cane paid the penalty of his crimes the woman Petre at last recovered consciousness.

I saw the look of abject terror upon her face as her eyes fell upon the man lying dead upon the carpet before us.

She realised the terrible truth at once, and giving vent to a loud, hysterical scream, rose and threw herself on her knees beside the man whose wide-open eyes, staring into space, were fast glazing in death.

Edwards bent, and asked in a low voice whether I wished to give her into custody for the attempt upon me.

But I replied in the negative.

"The assassin has received his just punishment and must answer to his Maker," I replied. "That is enough. This scene will assuredly be a lesson to her."

"She falsely accused Miss Shand, remember," he said. "She knew all the time that Cane struck the poor girl down."

"No," I replied. "Now that the stigma has been removed from the one I love, I will be generous. I will prefer no charge against her."

"Ah! dearest," cried Phrida, "I am glad of that. Let us forgive, and endeavour, if possible, to forget these dark, black days and weeks when both our lives were blighted, and the future seemed so hopeless and full of tragedy."

"Yes," I said, "let us go forth and forget."

And with a last glance at the dead man, with the woman with dishevelled hair kneeling in despair at his side, I took the arm of my beloved, and kissing her before them all, led her out, away from the scene so full of bitterness and horror.

* * * * *

To further prolong the relation of this tragic chapter of my life's history would serve no purpose.

What more need I tell you than to say Mrs. Petre disappeared entirely, apparently thankful to escape, and that at St. Mary Abbots, in Kensington, a month ago, Phrida and I became man and wife, both Edwards and Fremy being present.

As I pen these final lines I am sitting upon the balcony of the great Winter Palace Hotel, in Luxor, within sight of the colossal ruins of Karnak, for we are spending a delightful honeymoon in Upper Egypt, that region where the sun always shines and rain never falls. Phrida, in her thin white cotton gown and white sun helmet, though it is January, is seated beside me, her little hand in mine. Below us, in the great garden, rise the high, feathery palms, above a riot of roses and poinsettias, magnolias, and other sweet-smelling flowers.

It is the silent, breathless hour of the desert sunset. Before us, away beyond the little strip of vegetation watered by the broad, ever-flowing Nile, the clear, pale green sky is aflame with crimson, a sunset mystic and wonderful, such as one only sees in Egypt, that golden land of the long-forgotten.

From somewhere behind comes up the long-drawn nasal song of an Arab boatman—that quaint, plaintive, sing-song rhythm accompanied by a tom-tom, which encourages the rowers to bend at their oars, while away still further behind across the river, lays the desolate ruins of the once-powerful Thebes, and that weird, arid wilderness which is so impressive—the Valley of the Tombs of the Kings.

Phrida has been reading what I have here written, and as I kiss her sweet lips, she looks lovingly into my eyes and says:

"It is enough, dearest. Say that you and I are happy—ah! so supremely happy at last, in each other's love. No pair in the whole world could trust each other as we have done. I know that I was guilty of a very grave fault—the fault of concealing my friendship with that man from you. But I foolishly thought I was acting in your interests—that being your friend, he was mine also. I never dreamed that such a refined face could hide so black and vile a heart."

"But I have forgiven all, darling," I hasten to reassure her! "I know now what a clever and ingenious scoundrel that man was, and how full of resource and amazing cunning. You were his victim, just as I was myself—just as were the others. No," I add, "life, love, and happiness are before us. So let us learn to forget."

And as our lips meet once again in a long, fond, passionate caress, I lay down my pen in order to press her more closely to my breast.

She is mine—my own beloved—mine for now and evermore.

THE END.

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1 The Garden of Lies Justus M. Forman 2 Anna, The Adventuress E. P. Oppenheim 4 The Beautiful White Devil Guy Boothby 5 The Impostor Harold Bindloss 7 A Study In Scarlet A. Conan Doyle 9 The Mother Eden Phillpotts 10 The Crimson Blind Fred M. White 14 A Maker of History E. P. Oppenheim 16 The Pillar of Light Louis Tracy 17 A Bid for Fortune Guy Boothby 21 Mr. Wingrave, Millionaire E. P. Oppenheim 31 The Secret E. P. Oppenheim 34 Darby and Joan "Rita" 36 The Temptress Wm. Le Queux 43 The Missioner E. P. Oppenheim 47 Dr. Nikola Guy Boothby 53 His Lady's Pleasure H. Bindloss 54 A Courier of Fortune A. W. Marchmont 58 Heart of Gold L. G. Moberly 65 Hawtrey's Deputy Harold Bindloss 67 A Maker of Nations Guy Boothby 69 A Millionaire of Yesterday E. P. Oppenheim 72 Long Live the King Guy Boothby 75 The World's Great Snare E. P. Oppenheim 76 Helen of the Moor A. & C. Askew 77 League of the Leopard Harold Bindloss 78 Her Splendid Sin Headon Hill 79 Dr. Nikola's Experiment Guy Boothby 80 Whoso Findeth a Wife Wm. Le Queux 81 The Stowaway Louis Tracy 82 The Law of the Land Fred. M. White 83 Mr. Marx's Secret E. P. Oppenheim 84 Sanders of the River Edgar Wallace 85 Under the Black Eagle A. W. Marchmont 86 Joy: a Happy Soul L. G. Moberly 87 The Red Rat's Daughter Guy Boothby 88 The Dream Daughter A. & C. Askew 89 The Liberationist Harold Bindloss 90 Lord Stranleigh Abroad R. Barr 91 Jeanne of the Marshes E. P. Oppenheim 92 A Race with Ruin Headon Hill 93 A Fatal Legacy Louis Tracy 95 A Fatal Dose Fred M. White 96 The Kidnapped President Guy Boothby 97 The People of the River Edgar Wallace 98 Christina L. G. Moberly 99 The Master Mummer E. P. Oppenheim 100 The Golden Girl A. & C. Askew 101 The Silent Barrier Louis Tracy 102 The Cottage in the Chine Headon Hill 103 My Indian Queen Guy Boothby 104 The Idol of the Town Wm. Le Queux 105 False Evidence E. P. Oppenheim 106 The Cardinal Moth Fred M. White 107 The Protector Harold Bindloss 108 His Little Girl L. G. Moberly 109 White Walls Max Pemberton 110 Money or Wife Effie A. Rowlands 111 Farewell, Nikola Guy Boothby 112 The Council of Justice E. Wallace 113 The House Next Door A. & C. Askew 114 Conspirators E. P. Oppenheim 115 The Master Spirit Sir Wm. Magnay 116 A Traitor's Wooing Headon Hill 117 Sheilah McLeod Guy Boothby 118 The Sign of the Stranger Wm. Le Queux 119 The Pioneer Harold Bindloss 120 The Open Door Fred M. White 121 The Betrayal E. P. Oppenheim 122 Diana L. G. Moberly 123 The Vow Paul Trent 124 Fennell's Tower Louis Tracy 125 The Admirable Carfew E. Wallace 126 Through Folly's Mill A. & C. Askew 127 Love Made Manifest Guy Boothby 128 The Tickencote Treasure Wm. Le Queux 129 Craven Fortune Fred M. White 130 The Yellow Crayon E. P. Oppenheim 131 Cleansing Fires L. G. Moberly 132 The Lovers Eden Phillpotts 133 Sunset and Dawn Effie A. Rowlands 134 The Trustee Harold Bindloss 135 The Foundling Paul Trent 136 The Heir to the Throne A. W. Marchmont

WARD, LOCK & CO.'S

Sixpenny Copyright

NOVELS

Large Demy 8vo. Coloured Covers. Price 6d.

1 A Bid for Fortune Guy Boothby 18 A Monk of Cruta E. P. Oppenheim 26 A Daughter of the Marionis E. P. Oppenheim 33 Love Made Manifest Guy Boothby 48 The Secret Service Wm. Le Queux 51 The Temptress Wm. Le Queux 73 Belles and Ringers Hawley Smart 74 Sarchedon G. J. Whyte-Melville 77 Across the World for a Wife Guy Boothby 82 A Sailor's Bride Guy Boothby 87 The Survivor E. P. Oppenheim 98 In Strange Company Guy Boothby 116 The Traitors E. P. Oppenheim 122 Dr. Nikola Guy Boothby 127 The Crimson Blind Fred M. White 145 A Bid for Freedom Guy Boothby 155 The Betrayal E. P. Oppenheim 160 A Study in Scarlet A. Conan Doyle 171 The Master Mummer E. P. Oppenheim 179 The King of Diamonds Louis Tracy 199 Beneath Her Station Harold Bindloss 233 The Liberationist Harold Bindloss 237 The Mother Eden Phillpotts 248 The League of the Leopard Harold Bindloss 266 The Powers of Mischief Sir Wm. Magnay, Bart. 277 The Sundial Fred. M. White 279 In White Raiment Wm. Le Queux 282 The Missioner E. P. Oppenheim 286 Lorna Doone R. D. Blackmore 305 The Sporting Chance A. & C. Askew 323 Vivienne "Rita" 342 Countess Londa Guy Boothby 343 Heath Hover Mystery Bertram Mitford 351 The Sin of Alison Dering L. G. Moberly 355 Rogues in Arcady Sir Wm. Magnay 357 Jim Crowshaw's Mary Fred. M. White 361 Angela's Marriage L. G. Moberly 362 Bianca's Daughter Justus M. Forman 365 The Legacy A. & C. Askew 367 A Son of the Immortals Louis Tracy 368 The Witness of the Ring Marie Connor Leighton 369 Christina L. G. Moberly 370 Mr. Marx's Secret E. P. Oppenheim 372 Lady Clara Fred M. White 374 The Secret of the Sands Fred M. White 375 The House of the Black Panther A. & C. Askew 376 Hawtrey's Deputy Harold Bindloss 377 The Mystery Queen Fergus Hume 379 Sylvia's Chauffeur Louis Tracy 381 The Peer and the Women E. P. Oppenheim 382 A Scarlet Sin A. & C. Askew 383 Her Sacrifice Arthur Applin 384 Justice Marie Connor Leighton 386 His Little Girl L. G. Moberly 387 Radford Shone Headon Hill 388 The Open Door Fred M. White 409 A Prince of Darkness Florence Warden 412 The Van Dylk Diamonds Arthur Applin 417 Pallard, the Punter Edgar Wallace 420 The Supplanter Paul Trent 422 Until Seventy Times Seven L. G. Moberly 423 The Secret Cargo J. S. Fletcher 425 A Royal Wrong Fred M. White 428 One of the Family Keble Howard 429 Ducks and Drakes Marie Connor Leighton 430 Gilded London A. & C. Askew 431 That Preposterous Will L. G. Moberly 450 The Court of the Angels Justus M. Forman 469 False Evidence E. P. Oppenheim 472 The Woman Who Tempted Gertrude Warden 490 Souls in Pawn Lindsay Russell 494 Blackthorn Farm Arthur Applin 495 All Men are Liars Joseph Hocking 500 The Girl from Nippon Carlton Dawe 506 The Caretaker Fergus Hume 507 The Man Who Bought London Edgar Wallace 508 The Cloak of Darkness Sir Wm. Magnay 509 Paul Quentin Fred M. White 510 The Gates of Sorrow Marie Connor Leighton 511 Jabez Easterbrook Joseph Hocking 512 The Gates of Silence Lindsay Russell 514 After Long Years L. G. Moberly 515 The Flying Girl Richard Marsh 516 The King versus Wargrave J. S. Fletcher 517 The Weavers Plot A. & C. Askew 518 The Opening Door Justus M. Forman 519 The Pearl Necklace Arthur Applin 520 Uncle Peter's Will Silas K. Hocking 521 A Woman's Word A. & C. Askew 522 A Hazardous Wooing James Blyth 523 Human Nature Marie Connor Leighton 524 The Salt of the Earth Fred M. White 525 A Debt Discharged Edgar Wallace 526 The Annexation Society J. S. Fletcher 527 The Allinson Honour Harold Bindloss 528 The Wraith of Olverstone Florence Warden 529 The Interior Lindsay Russell 530 The Footlight Glare A. & C. Askew 531 The Open Road Halliwell Sutcliffe 532 The Master of Merripit Eden Phillpotts 533 The Atonement James Blyth 534 An Enemy Hath Done This Joseph Hocking 535 In the Cause of Freedom A. W. Marchmont 536 Story of a Great Sin Marie Connor Leighton 537 The Red Bicycle Fergus Hume 538 Maid Marjory L. G. Moberly 539 The Little Anarchist A. W. Marchmont 540 A Maker of Secrets Wm. Le Queux 541 Max Logan Paul Trent 542 Ambition's Slave Fred M. White 543 The Tomb of Ts'in Edgar Wallace

WARD, LOCK & CO.'S

STANDARD & DETECTIVE NOVELS

Large Demy 8vo. Attractive Wrapper and Frontispiece. 6d.

2 Kenilworth Sir Walter Scott 12 Midshipman Easy Capt. Marryat 13 Japhet in Search of a Father Ditto 14 Jacob Faithful Ditto 15 Peter Simple Ditto 16 The Pickwick Papers Chas. Dickens 18 Barnaby Rudge Ditto 19 Old Curiosity Shop Ditto 20 Martin Chuzzlewit Ditto 21 Oliver Twist Ditto 22 Dombey and Son Ditto 26 The Innocents Abroad Mark Twain 27 Valentine Vox Henry Cockton 33 Ben-Hur Lew Wallace 37 Helen's Babies J. Habberton 38 Other People's Children Ditto 39 A Bad Boy's Diary 40 Blunders of a Bashful Man 41 Catching a Husband 45 Out of the Hurly Burly Max Adeler 48 A Strange Disappearance A. K. Green 51 The Leavenworth Case Ditto 52 The Circular Study Ditto 53 Marked "Personal" Ditto 59 Shadowed by Three L. L. Lynch 61 The Diamond Coterie Ditto 62 Detective's Daughter Ditto 63 Out of a Labyrinth Ditto 65 The Lost Witness Ditto 68 A Slender Clue Ditto 76 Toilers of the Sea Victor Hugo 77 History of a Crime Ditto 78 Ninety-Three Ditto 80 Margaret Catchpole Rev. R. Cobbold 81 Freston Tower Ditto 84 The Mystery of Orcival E. Gaboriau 85 Detective's Dilemma Ditto 86 Detective's Triumph Ditto 88 Caught in the Net Ditto 89 The Champdoce Mystery Ditto 91 Mr. Barnes of New York A. C. Gunter 92 The Princess of Copper Ditto 95 Jane Eyre Charlotte Bronte 97 Looking Backward Edward Bellamy 103 Frank Fairlegh Frank Smedley 104 Alice's Adventures in Wonderland Lewis Carroll 106 Tom Brown's School Days Hughes 133 Crime and the Criminal R. Marsh 150 Her Splendid Sin Headon Hill 151 Caged Ditto 152 The Avengers Ditto 160 Lorna Doone R. Blackmore 162 For the Term of His Natural Life Marcus Clarke 169 East Lynne Mrs. Henry Wood 171 The Shadow of Ashlydyat Ditto 172 The Channings Ditto 173 Mrs. Halliburton's Troubles Ditto 175 Roland Yorke Ditto

Ward, Lock & Co., Ltd., London, Melbourne & Toronto.



TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES

Page 6: FREMY standardised to FREMY; SURETE standardised to SURETE

Page 33: hand-bag standardised to handbag

Page 35: Place in the phrase "in the Place Vendome" as in the original

Page 41: " changed to ' before You—you blackguard, and after You've—you've killed me!

Page 42: note-paper standardised to notepaper

Page 47: anenomes corrected to anemones in the phrase "drooping red anenomes"; manservant standardised to man-servant

Page 126: reopened standardised to re-opened

Page 127: " removed before If so, what then?

Page 148: repass standardised to re-pass

Page 150: over-burdened standardised to overburdened

Page 160: nonplussed standardised to non-plussed in His question non-plussed me.

Page 166: arm-chair standardised to armchair

Page 202: " added after must have happened to her.

Page 210: " changed to ' before You blackguard, Cane and ' added after why, you've killed me!

Page 218: ? after No, don't do that as in the original

Page 240: Bon jour spaced as in the original

Page 244: " added after Here is the reply,

Page 249: . added after non-plussed me for the moment

Page 257: ' corrected to " before My interests!

Page 267: " added after round of France.

Page 269: . added after I asked frantically

Page 309: Author of 108. His Little Girl standardised to Moberly

Page 314: Blank author names as in original

General: variable hyphenation of street-lamp and street lamp as in the original

THE END