CHAPTER XXV.
THE LAST STROKE.
As the solicitor turned toward the newcomer, the man and woman exchangedglances, and while he was still confident, not to say defiant, he lookedto the unobservant solicitor with a nervous, apprehensive glance, andleaning toward her would have whispered a word of his anxiety; but sheshook her head, and the next moment the solicitor was naming them toeach other and, as Mr. Myers paused before the lady, continued with theutmost directness--
"Mr. Myers, this lady denies the existence of any and all Americanheirs. She fears you may have been deceived. Do you know this manBrierly to be living at present?"
"I believe him to be living."
"Mr. Myers," said the lady, sweetly, "I am very sorry to think or sayit, but you have certainly been grossly tricked! If you have seen awould-be claimant, you have seen a fraudulent one. How long, may I ask,since you left America?"
"I have been in England for some time, and I will admit, madam, that Ido not quite understand this case in all its details. Still, may it notbe possible that you have been misled? There seem to have beencomplications." He checked himself, and appeared to be considering hisnext words, then he resumed--"I think I can help to clear up thismisunderstanding. I brought with me here a young man lately from theUnited States. He claims to have seen a Mr. Brierly very recently. Withyour permission I will ask him to join us."
The Lathams again exchanged swift glances, and the man gave his head aquick negative shape. But the solicitor went promptly to the door. Theydid not hear the brief order he gave the boy, and he did not come backat once.
"Who is this young American who has seen the invisible? And how came hehere to-day?" asked the man, who was now frowning heavily and movingrestlessly in his seat. "What is his name?"
Mr. Myers had picked up a book off the desk, and was turning its pagesslowly. He seemed hardly to hear the fellow's words.
"He's a very bright young fellow," he said, musingly. "I don't think hewould be easily deceived. He's quite a clever detective, in his way." Hewas studying the pair from under bent brows. Just then Mr. Latham's hatfell from his hands to the floor, and before he had recaptured it, thesolicitor had entered, followed by a serious-faced young man, whom hecarelessly named to the two strangers.
"Mr. Grant."
The lady's hand went suddenly to her heart, and her face was ashenbeneath the dotted veil.
"Are you ill, madam?"
"A twinge," she faltered.
"It's neuralgia," declared the man, drawing his chair toward her. "She'ssubject to these sharp attacks. Better, Bessie?"
She nodded, and fixed her eyes upon "Mr. Grant," to whom Mr. Myers wassaying:
"This lady, Grant, is positive that the Brierlys, of whom you havetalked to me, are not now living. There has been tricking somewhere, anddeception. Will you help us to understand one another?" The lawyer'sface had grown very grave.
Francis Ferrars seated himself directly before the woman, whose eyesnever left his face now, and were growing visibly apprehensive.
"There has been more than tricking, worse than deceit here, and if I amto make it clear to you, madam, I must begin at the beginning. So far,at least, as I know it."
The woman bent her head slightly. "Go on," said the man. He had neverseen Ferrars either in _propria persona_, or as Ferriss Grant.
The detective began with a brief sketch of the Brierly brothers, andthen described, vividly, the discovery of Charles Brierly's dead bodybeside the lake at Glenville. He paused here, and his voice grew sternas he resumed--
"I had never seen Charles Brierly in life, but, standing beside his deadbody, looking down into that face so lately inspired by a manly, strongsoul, I knew that here was murder. There was no possibility of accident,and such men, I know, do not cheat death by meeting him half way. It wasa murder, and yet he had no enemies, they said.
"The case interested me from the first, and when I had seen the sorrowof the fair girl he loved, and who loved him, I gave myself eagerly tothe work of seeking the author of this most cowardly blow.
"That night I walked the streets of Glenville alone, and, passing acertain fashionable boarding house, I saw, in a room lighted only by thelate moonbeams, the shadow of a woman, who paced the floor with herbare arms tossing aloft in a pantomime of agony, or shame."
He glanced about him. The two lawyers were standing side by side nearthe door, erect and stern. The man in the chair opposite was affectingan incredulous indifference. The room was intensely still when the voiceceased and no one stirred or spoke.
"Next morning, early, I viewed the scene of the crime, and I saw howeasily the destroyer might have crept upon an unsuspecting victim, owingto the formation of the shore, the shelter of the trees and shrubs, andthe protection of the curving Indian Mound. There had been showers twodays before, and in certain spots, where the sun did not penetrate, theearth was still moist. Under a huge tree, just where the slayer mighthave stood, I found the print of a dainty shoe, or rather, the pointedtoe of it. In two other sheltered places I found parts of otherfootprints, and, a little off the road, in a clump of underbrush, Ifound two well-formed footprints, all alike, small, and pointed at thetoe. But I found something more in that hazel thicket. I found my firstconvincing, convicting clue. It was just a shred, a thread of a blackmourning veil, such as widows wear. Later I found a poor simpleton whohad been in the wood on the morning of the murder, and who had beenhorribly terrified. For a time he would only cry out that he had seen aghost, but by and by he grew more communicative, and from what he thensaid--for he described the 'ghost' at last as a thing all white with ablack face--I knew how to account for a white fragment which I found notfar from the black one. A hired carriage had passed over that lakesideroad on that fatal morning, and I learned that the lap cover with it was'large and white.' Large enough to cover a woman of small stature, who,with a black veil drawn close across her features, and rising suddenlyfrom among that clump of hazel, could easily terrify a simpleton intoleaving the place where his presence was a menace."
He paused a moment, but he might as well have been looking upon carvenstatues. No one stirred, no one spoke, and he resumed his fateful story.
"Then came the inquest. I believed, even then, that I knew the hand thattook Charles Brierly's life. But I did not know the motive, and, until Idid, my case was a weak one. Besides, a woman sometimes strikes andstill deserves our pity and protection. 'I must know the motive,' Isaid, and waited. Then, at the inquest, as Robert Brierly, the brotherof the dead man, whose presence in the town was known to only a few,came forward to testify, a woman, who did not know him, and whom he didnot know, fainted at sight of him, and was taken out of court. Then Iknew the motive."
"Ah-h-h!" A queer sighing sound escaped the lips of the woman stillsitting stonily erect before him; but he hurried on.
"But knowledge is not always proof--in a court of law--and I must haveproof. That night a woman, dressed as a boy, by courage and cunningcombined, forced her way into the rooms so lately occupied by CharlesBrierly. Fear of detection had begun its work upon her mind, and shewent, most of all, to try and throw justice off the track. In Brierly'sdesk she left a letter, very conspicuously placed, an anonymous letter,so framed as to throw suspicion upon the dead man's betrothed. Thisagain showed the woman's hand. She also carried away a watch, a pistol,and some foreign jewellery and dainty _bric-a-brac_, to make the workseem that of a thief; and last, she found, upon a letter file, anewspaper clipping, which she also carried away. If she had left that Imight have overlooked its value. As it was, I found the paper from whichit had been cut, secured a second copy, and discovered my clue to thetangle. It was an advertisement for the heirs of one Hugo Paisley, and Isoon found that the Brierly brothers were the sought-for heirs. Then Iknew that Robert Brierly's life was also menaced, and I warned him, andtried to set a guard about him.
"In the meantime a boat had been found, not far from the scene of theshooting; it had been seen on the lake that morning, and its occ
upantwas a spy, keeping watch up and down the road, and the hillsides, whilehis confederate carried out their programme of death. I had alreadyfixed upon the woman, and now we began to look for the man."
Just here the man calling himself Latham got up stiffly, and movedtoward the window near the clerk's desk, where he leaned against thecasement, as if looking down upon the street. No one seemed to noticehim, and the narrator went on:
"And now I had to find my final convincing proofs of the motive and thedeed. The brothers Brierly were, all unknown to themselves, the heirs tothe Paisley estates, and of Hugo Paisley, by descent. Through some errorthe murderers of Charles Brierly had been led to think him the soleliving member of the family, and when Robert Brierly stood forth at theinquest, the woman who had shot down his brother with hand and heart ofsteel, fell fainting at the sight of him, and, perhaps, at the thoughtof her wasted crime.
"And now it was a drawn game, in which both sides were forced to movewith caution, and, for a time, I could only watch the woman, on the onehand, and the safety of Robert Brierly on the other, for he now stoodbetween the plotters and their goal.
"But despite my watchfulness, the second blow fell, and the first timeRobert Brierly ventured upon the city street alone, after dark, he wasstruck down, almost at his own door. It was a dangerous injury, and,lest the assassins should find a way to complete their work, we took himaway, as soon as he could be moved."
The woman was sitting very erect now, her eyes smouldering behind thegleaming glasses, her hands tightly clinched upon her knee.
"I knew that we must force the issue, then," Ferrars went on. "And Mr.Myers came over here to substantiate his client's claim to the Paisleyestates, and to look up the pedigree, the past and present history, ofthe other claimants. How well he succeeded need not here be told. He didsucceed."
Mrs. Latham had risen to her feet, and, for a moment, seemed strugglingfor composure, and the power to speak clearly.
"All this," she said then, "which is very strange, does not explain whyyou dispute my claim in favour of a dead man. As for this murder--if youhave proved what you charge----"
"One moment," Ferrars broke in. "Let me add, in that connection, thatone night one of my agents, in the character of a burglar, entered thiswoman's room at her hotel in Glenville. She found in a trunk, the veilfrom which the black fragment, found on the bush, was torn; and also asuit of boy's clothes. The veil she brought away, the clothes were givenaway to a poor woman only this morning, and she sold them to my agent.As for the man, he has been traced by the stolen watch and jewelledornaments. He tried to sell, and did pawn, them in Chicago, in New York,and here in London. In fact the chain of evidence is complete; nothingmore is needed to convict these two."
The woman's face was white and set. "After all," she said in a hollowvoice, "you have not proved that the Paisley estate is not mine byright. Mr. Brierly, the elder, being dead!"
"Even so, the second wife of Gaston Latham cannot inherit, and herbrother, even in the character of brother-in-law, cannot share theinheritance. One moment," for the woman seemed about to speak. "Let meend this. Last night, in room number eight at a certain cafe, I heardthe plotters in conference, and I know that the daughter of Mrs. Cramer,who would have inherited after the Brierlys, is dead. The game is up,Mr. Harry Levey. You and your sister have aimed two heavy strokes atthe happiness of two noble women, and the lives of two good men, but thefinal stroke is mine! And now, Mrs. Jamieson, if that is----" He did notfinish the sentence. The man Levey had drawn closer and closer to theinner door, while Ferrars spoke, and now with a swift spring he hurledhimself against it, plunged forward and would have fallen had notFerrars, always alert, bounded after him, and caught him as he fell. Forthe inner door had opened suddenly, at his touch, and when Ferrars drewthe now struggling man backward, and away from it, the others in theroom saw, in the doorway, a man and woman side by side.
At sight of Robert Brierly's face the woman, who had faced the ordeal ofdenunciation and conviction almost without a quiver, threw up her hands,and uttering a shrill scream, a cry of mortal terror and anguish, fellforward upon her face.
Then came a moment of excited movement, which would have been confusionbut for the quick wit of Ruth Glidden, and the coolness and energy ofthe detective.
While the entrapped villain was struggling like a fiend in the grasp offour strong men, Ruth knelt beside the fallen woman and lifted her head.
The next moment two or three officers came hastening in, and Ferrars andBrierly, seeing their captive in safe hands, came together to her aid.She looked up at them with a questioning face.
"Did you know?" she asked, her face full of horror. "Did you know her?"
Ferrars nodded, and as the officers led their captive, cursing andblustering, out at one door, he lifted the senseless woman, and carriedher to the couch in the inner room.
"Bring water!" Ruth commanded, "and leave her to me."
As the two men closed the door between them and the two so strangelydifferent women, Brierly laid a hand upon the detective's shoulder.
"Ferrars," he said, "what did Ruth mean? Who is that terrible woman? Andhow is she concerned in your story? It is time I should know the truth."
"Quite time. That woman is Mrs. Jamieson, or the person you knew underthat name. She is cleverly disguised, but I expected some such trick.She went to 'the States' to rid herself of you and your brother; and shetook that man, who is really her own brother, and who tried to kill you,as her fellow criminal."
"And did she----" Brierly stopped, shuddering.
"She shot your brother; there is not a doubt of it."
"My God! And I thought----" They were alone in the office, and Brierlydropped weakly into the nearest chair and dropped his face upon hishands.
"You thought," finished Ferrars, "that I was interested in the woman. Iwas. I suspected her from the very first, and so did Hilda Grant."
In the inner room, Mrs. Jamieson opened her eyes and looked up to meetthe gaze of the fair woman who was in all things what she was not.
Ruth bent over her, a glass of water in her hand.
"Drink this, Mrs. Jamieson," she said simply.
A shudder like a death throe shook the recumbent form. She liftedherself by one elbow, and caught at the glass, drinking greedily. Then,still holding the glass, she said slowly:
"Then you know me?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"By your voice, a little, but mostly by what Mr. Ferrars said."
"Mr. Ferrars!" she gasped. "Do you mean him?"
"I mean the man you have called Grant. Did you never guess that he was adetective?"
"And he knew!" The woman arose to her full height and again, as on anight long since, and in another country, her arms were tossed above herhead, as Ruth nodded her answer, and for a moment her face was awful tolook upon, so tortured, so despairing, so full of wrath and wretchednessand soul torture and heart agony, for women can love and suffer, thoughtheir souls be steeped in crime.
Ruth, who had taken the half emptied glass from her hand as shestruggled to her feet, now put it down, and, startled by her look andmanner, moved toward the door, but the woman, her face ghastly, cried"Stop!" with such agonised entreaty that the girl drew back.
"Don't!--I can't see him yet--Wait!--Let me----" She sank weakly backupon the couch, and Ruth noted, while turning away for a moment, how herhand toyed with her dainty watchguard, in seeming self forgetfulness,drawing forth the little watch, a moment later, and looking at it, as ifthe time was now of importance. Then she threw herself back against thecushions.
"My--vinaigrette--my bag!" she moaned between gasping breaths.
The little bag had been left in the outer office, where it had fallenfrom her lap, and Ruth opened the door of communication a little way andasked for it, saying, as Ferrars came toward her, "Not yet."
As Ruth turned back, she heard a sharp little click, like the quickshutting of a watch case, and when she held out the vinaigrette, Mrs.
Jamieson was swallowing the remainder of the water in the glass.
"Your salts, Mrs. Jamieson."
The woman looked up with a wild scared look in her eyes, and held out,for an instant, the little jewelled watch.
"For years," she said, in a slow, strange monotone, "I have faced andfeared danger, and failure. For years I have been prepared! Because ofmy cowardice, and my conscience, I have always kept a way of escape."Her fingers fluttered aimlessly and the watch fell upon her lap. Herlast words seemed to come through stiffening lips. Her face grewsuddenly ghostly gray. Ruth sprang toward the door.
"Don't let him come yet." With these words the dying woman seemed tocollapse, and sank limply back into the cushions; her head drooped, herchin dropped.
Ruth flung open the door with a cry of terror, and the four men--for thetwo lawyers had returned from their escort duty--gathered about thecouch. They saw a shudder pass over the limp frame. The fingersfluttered again feebly, there was a spasmodic stiffening of thefigure--and that was the end.
Four weeks later, a group of people were standing upon the deck of ahomeward bound steamer, about to set out upon her ocean voyage. Theywere five in number, and they were welcoming, each in turn, the man whohad just joined them.
There had been a quiet wedding, a few days before, at a little Englishchurch, and Ruth Glidden had become Ruth Brierly as simply as if shewere not an heiress, and her newly made husband not the owner of Englishlands, houses, stocks, and factories, that changed him into amillionaire.
"I could see no good reason for delay," Brierly was saying, as hegrasped the hand of Ferrars, whose congratulations had been hearty andsincere. "Neither of us have need to consult aught save our own wishes;and besides our nearest friends are with us."
"Besides," interposed the smiling woman at his side, "we have been anencumbrance upon Mr. and Mrs. Myers for so long--and it was really theonly conventional way to relieve them of so many charges. And then"--andhere she lowered her tone, and glanced toward Hilda Grant, who, havingalready greeted Ferrars, was standing a little aloof--"we can now make ahome for Hilda, and have a double claim on her."
"In all of which you have done well," smiled Ferrars. "My only regret isthat I must bring into this parting moment an unpleasant element, butyou may as well hear it from me." He beckoned the others to approach;and, when they were close about him, said, speaking low and gravely:"'Quarrelsome Harry' has escaped the punishment of the law."
"Escaped!" It was Mr. Myers who repeated the word. "Do you mean----?"
"I mean that he is dead. He was shot while trying to escape. He hadfeigned illness so well that they were taking him to the hospitaldepartment. He tried a rush and a surprise, but it ended fatally forhim. He was shot while resisting re-arrest."
"It is better so," said Mr. Myers. "They have been their ownexecutioners. What could the law have added to their punishment?"
"Only the law's delays," said Ferrars, and then he turned to HildaGrant.
"This is not a long good-bye," he said gently. "At least I hope not. Ishall be back in 'the States' soon. And, may I not still find a cousinthere? Or must I stand again outside the barrier alone?"
"You will always find an affectionate cousin," said Hilda, putting outher hand.
And now it was time to leave the ship. All around them was the hurry ofdelayed farewells, the bustle of late comers, the shifting of baggage,smiles, tears, last words.
Ferrars would remain for a time in London, but he knew, as he answeredto the call "all ashore," that when he returned to the United States hewould find in one of her fair western cities, a warm welcome and alasting friendship.
The plot, by which the beautiful tigress-hearted woman whom they hadknown as Mrs. Jamieson had hoped to achieve riches, was cleverlyplanned. The real claimant had died in a remote place, and there were nonear friends to look after her interests, or those of her youngchildren. And then Harry Levey's sister, beautiful, and an adventuress,from choice, like her brother, had beguiled Gaston Latham, and had, byfrequent changes of abode, by cunning, and by fraud, merged her ownpersonality into that of the former wife. Then had come the bafflingdiscovery of heirs in America, the plotting and scheming to remove themfrom their path--and the shameful end.
"Ferrars is a strange fellow," said Robert Brierly to his wife, onemoonlight night, as they sat together, and somewhat aloof from theothers on deck. "Do you know he was the sole attendant, except for herservants, at that woman's burial. He went in a carriage alone. Was itfrom sentiment, or sympathy, think you?"
It was the first time the dead woman had been spoken of, by either,since that trying day of her exposure and death, and Ruth was silent amoment, before she answered; the awful scene coming vividly before her.Then she put her hand within her husband's arm, and said, slowly,softly:
"It was because he is a good man; because she was a woman without afriend, and because she loved him."
There was a long silence, and it was Ruth who next spoke.
"Have you ever thought, or hoped, that the friendship and trust that hasgrown out of Hilda's relation to Mr. Ferrars might, sometime, end insomething more?"
"No, dear, and this is why: Yesterday, Ferrars said to me 'There is afriend over in Glenville whom I hope you will not forget. Let him beyour guest. And, if the day should come when your sweet sister that wasto be should enter society and be sought by others, give the doctor hischance. He has loved her from the first.'"
Ruth sighed.
"Hilda is too young to go through the world loveless and alone. Yes, andtoo sweet. And the doctor is a noble man. But all this we may safelyleave to the future, and to their own hearts."
THE END.
The Gresham Press,UNWIN BROTHERS,WOKING AND LONDON.
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+HENRY KINGSLEY.+
New Library Edition of Henry Kingsley's Novels. Edited by CLEMENT K. SHORTER. Well printed (from type specially cast) on good paper, and neatly and handsomely bound. With Frontispieces by eminent Artists. Price +_3s. 6d._+ per volume, cloth gilt.
1. +The Recollections of Geoffry Hamlyn.+ With a _Photogravure Portrait_ of Henry Kingsley, and a _Memoir_ by CLEMENT K. SHORTER. Illustrated by HERBERT RAILTON.
2. +Ravenshoe.+ With Frontispiece by R. CATON WOODVILLE.
3. +The Hillyars and the Burtons.+ With a Note on Old Chelsea Church by CLEMENT K. SHORTER. Illustrated by HERBERT RAILTON.
4. +Silcote of Silcotes.+ With Frontispiece by LANCELOT SPEED.
5. +Stretton.+ With Frontispiece by GEORGE M. HENTON.
6. +Austin Elliot,+ and +The Harveys.+ With _Frontispiece_ by WALTER PAGET.
7. +Mdlle. Mathilde.+ With Frontispiece by HOLLAND TRINGHAM.
8. +Old Margaret,+ and other Stories. With _Frontispiece_ by ROBERT SAUBER.
9. +Valentin,+ and +Number Seventeen.+ With _Frontispiece_ by R. CATON WOODVILLE.
10. +Oakshott Castle,+ and +The Grange Garden.+ With _Frontispiece_ by W. H. OVEREND.
11. +Reginald Hetherege,+ and +Leighton Court.+ With _Frontispiece_ by GORDON BROWNE.
12. +The Boy in Grey,+ and other Stories. With _Frontispiece_ by A. FORESTIER.
"Henry Kingsley was born to wear the purple of romance.... Where willanyone who is ordinary and sane find better comradeship? Scarcelyoutside the novels of Walter Scott.... Messrs. Ward, Lock and Co.'sedition of this despotic and satisfying romancer is cheap and wellprinted, and comfortable to hold. Those who love Kingsley will love himagain and better for this edition, and those who have not loved have ajoy in store that we envy them."--_The National Observer._
"To Mr. Cl
ement Shorter and to the publishers the unreserved thanks ofthe public are warmly due; there can be no finer mission from the worldof fiction to the world of fact than the putting forth of theseennobling novels afresh and in a fitting form."--_The Daily Chronicle._
"To renew your acquaintance with Henry Kingsley is for Henry Kingsley tostand forth victorious all along the line. His work, in truth, is movingand entertaining now as it was moving and entertaining thirty odd yearsago."--_The Pall Mall Gazette._
+WILLIAM LE QUEUX.+
+A Secret Service.+ Being Strange Tales of a Nihilist. By the author of "The Great War," "Zoraida." With _Frontispiece_ by HAROLD PIFFARD. Crown 8vo, cloth, +_3s. 6d._+
"Apart altogether from its political interest, "A Secret Service" willbe read and appreciated for its brightly-written stories of mystery andsensation and romance which are threaded together in the narrative ofAnton Prehzner."--_Daily Mail._
+ANNIE E. HOLDSWORTH.+
+Spindles and Oars.+ By the author of "The Years that the Locust hath Eaten." Crown 8vo, cloth, with _Special Title Page,_ +_3s. 6d._+
Miss Holdsworth has written a delightful series of Scottish Idylls,which can only be compared with the work of Mr. J. M. Barrie and "IanMaclaren." They are full of tender pathos and quaint humour, and aresure to sustain the reputation she has already made.
+J. E. MUDDOCK.+
+Stormlight;+ or, the Nihilist's Doom. A Story of Switzerland and Russia. With _Two Full-page Illustrations_ by GORDON BROWNE. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, gilt top, +_3s. 6d._+
"The work has a strong plot, exciting situations, and a certain truth tohistory, that make it full of interest."--_The Scotsman._
"A thrilling tale, chock full of sensational incidents."--_LiverpoolPost._
+ADA CAMBRIDGE.+
+A Humble Enterprise.+ By the author of "The Three Miss Kings," "Fidelis," "A Marked Man," etc. With _Four Full-page Illustrations_ by ST. CLAIR SIMMONS. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, +_3s. 6d._+
"It is a delightful story, refreshingly original, singularly well told,and absorbingly interesting from beginning to end."--_Daily Mail._
"A pretty, graceful story, and one to leave, so to speak, a clean tastein one's mouth; such dishes are rarely served to the public."--_PallMall Gazette._
+MARY TENNYSON.+
+The Fool of Fate.+ By the author of "Friend Perditus." Crown 8vo, cloth, +_6s._+
"Although sad in tone, this book is exceedingly clever and wellwritten.... The book is not loaded with psychological analysis, but theincidents are mainly allowed to speak for themselves, and the work is aclever, clear, and consistent character study."--_Bristol Mercury._
+BERTRAM MITFORD.+
+The Expiation of Wynne Palliser.+ A Novel of Contrast. By the author of "The King's Assegai," etc. With _Two Full-page Illustrations_ by STANLEY L. WOOD. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, +_3s. 6d._+
Readers who wish to have a realistic picture of the South African life,concerning which recent events have aroused such interest, should notfail to get Mr. Mitford's new work. It brings the whole scene before thereader's eye with startling vividness, and is an intensely interestingstory as well.
+The Curse of Clement Waynflete:+ A Story of Two South African Wars. With _Four Full-page Illustrations_ by STANLEY L. WOOD. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, +_3s. 6d._+
"Telling us wonderful incidents of inter-racial warfare, of ambuscades,sieges, surprises, and assaults almost without number.... A thoroughlyexciting story, full of bright descriptions and stirringepisodes."--_The Daily Telegraph._
+A Veldt Official:+ A Novel of Circumstance. With _Two Full-page Illustrations_ by STANLEY L. WOOD. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, +_3s. 6d._+
"We have seldom come across a more thrilling narrative. From start tofinish Mr. Mitford secures unflagging attention."--_Leeds Mercury._
+A. CONAN DOYLE.+
_THE FIRST BOOK ABOUT SHERLOCK HOLMES._
+A Study in Scarlet.+ By the author of "The White Company," etc. With _Forty Illustrations_ by GEORGE HUTCHINSON. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, gilt top, +_3s. 6d._+
"One of the cleverest and best detective stories we have yet seen....Mr. Conan Doyle is a literary artist, and this is a good specimen of hisskill."--_London Quarterly Review._
"Few things have been so good of late as Mr. Conan Doyle's 'Study inScarlet.'"--Mr. Andrew Lang, in _Longman's Magazine._
+THOMAS HENEY.+
+The Girl at Birrell's.+ With _Frontispiece_ by T. S. C. CROWTHER. Crown 8vo, cloth, +_3s. 6d._+
"The attraction of the book, which is considerable, lies in the vividpicture it gives of life on a huge portion of a huge pastoral estate inAustralia."--_Pall Mall Gazette._
"Apart from the excellence of telling, the accurate local colour of 'TheGirl at Birrell's' renders it valuable."--_Black and White._
+OUTRAM TRISTRAM.+
+The Dead Gallant;+ together with +"The King of Hearts."+ With _Full-page Illustrations_ by HUGH THOMSON and ST. GEORGE HARE. Crown 8vo, art linen, gilt, +_5s._+
"Both stories are well written in faultless English, and display aknowledge of history, a careful study of character, and a fineappreciation of a dramatic point, all too rare in these days of slipshodfiction."--_National Observer._
+HEADON HILL.+
+The Rajah's Second Wife.+ A Story of Missionary Life and Trial in India. By the author of "Zambra the Detective," "Cabinet Secrets," etc. With _Two Full-page Illustrations_ by WALER S. STACEY. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt. +_3s. 6d._+
"Will assuredly be read with the deepest interest.... The novel, as awhole, is one that will be read with genuine pleasure."--_The Scotsman._
+The Divinations of Kala Persad.+ With _Two Full-page Illustrations_ by STANLEY L. WOOD. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, +_3s. 6d._+
"Distinctly worth having. 'The Divinations of Kala Persad,' so far asthe book relates to that remarkable man, have a novelty that isrefreshing."--_The Spectator._
"The stories in this book are well told and interesting, and have thecharm of freshness."--_St. James's Gazette._
+The Queen of Night.+ With _Frontispiece_ by HAROLD PIFFARD. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, +_3s. 6d._+
No one who is familiar with the work of Mr. Headon Hill will disputethat in "The Queen of Night" is to be found the most skilful andenthralling detective story he has yet done. The idea is absolutelyoriginal, and is worked out with breathless interest and unusual power.From first to last it holds the reader's attention.
+MAGGIE SWAN.+
+A Neglected Privilege:+ The Story of a Modern Woman. By the author of "A Late Awakening," etc. With _Two Full-page Illustrations_ by STEPHEN REID. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, +_3s. 6d._+
Readers of Annie Swan and Silas Hocking will find a story to theirliking in Maggie Swan's new novel, "A Neglected Privilege." It is a pureand wholesome tale, told with as much skill as characterises the work ofher longer known sister. Every lover of pure literature will enjoy thischarming tale.
+A Late Awakening.+ With _Two Full-page Illustrations_ by ST. CLAIR SIMMONS. Square fcap. 8vo, cloth elegant, gilt top, price +_2s. 6d._+
"'A Late Awakening' is both pretty and pathetic. Miss Swan has adistinct faculty for describing wild scenery in the Scottish islands andfor realistically painting the life led by people in the lonely villagesthereon. Her characters are excellent."--_The Star._
The Last Stroke: A Detective Story Page 25
