The Mysterious Mr. Miller

by William Le Queux

andkissed her in adieu had not the statuesque man-servant stood by to handme the mackintosh which Murray had lent me.

  "Adieu!" she said again, and then touching her hand I mounted into thecart and went forth into the rain and darkness--into the night that wasso like my own life.

  After my return to Shepherd's Bush ten weary days passed--each daybringing my love nearer that odious union. One morning I received anunexpected note from Lucie Miller, saying that she and her aunt were inLondon again, at the Hotel Russell, in order to see her late father'slawyers.

  I called and left a card, for they were out.

  Next day, just as I rose from Mrs Gilbert's luncheon table and wasabout to enjoy a pipe in Sammy's den--he being away at the club--visitors were announced.

  It was Lucie, flushed and agitated, and with her was Ella, who, theinstant the door of the little sitting-room was closed, fell upon myneck, and without a word burst into a passion of tears.

  "What does this mean?" I asked of Lucie, utterly taken aback.

  "This will explain it." And she drew out a green evening newspaper, oneof those editions published at eleven o'clock in the morning. "Read foryourself," she added, pointing to a bold headline.

  I swiftly scanned the lines, and stood staring at them both.

  What was printed there was utterly bewildering. I held my breath.Could it actually be true?

  I cried aloud for joy, and pressing my love to my breast covered herpale sweet face with passionate kisses.

  "Is this a fact?" I cried. "Is it really true?"

  "Yes," answered Lucie. "I have been to Half Moon Street myself and madeinquiries. Mr Gordon-Wright, it appears, returned home late last nightafter supper at the Savoy. He must have met some friends afterwards,for the hall-porter says he did not return till nearly two o'clock, andthen seemed dazed and incoherent in his speech. He frequently sawgentlemen like that, and therefore pretended to take no notice. Ateight o'clock this morning, when his valet took him his early tea, hefound him half-dressed doubled up on the bed quite dead. Death frompoisoning, the doctor has declared. To us the truth is quite plain. Heis another victim of Himes' terrible revenge!"

  "And you, my darling, are free--actually free!" I cried, again kissingmy dear heart's face and beside myself with an unexpected joy.

  Himes was evidently keeping his vow to exterminate all Miller'sfriends--for what reason, however, was still an enigma.

  The situation now became utterly bewildering. In an instant Irecognised the exact position. My well-beloved was not so enthusiasticas myself. She seemed terrified at the man's terribly sudden end, andat the same time she held herself aloof from me. She held a secret, onewhich, as she had frankly told me, she would never divulge--not even tome. How could there be perfect love without perfect confidence? Againanother difficulty was presented.

  "I saw the report upon the posters in the streets, bought a paper, andlearnt the truth," explained Lucie. "I then took a cab at once toPorchester Terrace in search of Ella, and brought her straight here toyou."

  "The fellow has got his deserts," I said, in triumph. "He richlydeserved such an ignominious end."

  "He supped with my father and myself at the Savoy last night, and drovehome with us," Ella said. "He left us about one o'clock, and promisedto call and take me shopping in Bond Street at ten this morning, butnever came."

  "And he will never trouble you more, darling," I exclaimed, amazed thatHimes should have acted with such daring so quickly after his terriblerevenge upon Miller. It showed how unscrupulous and determined he wasto carry out the threat that had escaped his lips. "You are mine atlast--mine! _mine_!" I cried, pressing her again to me and covering herlips with kisses.

  But she did not return my caresses. She only pushed me forcibly fromher, saying huskily:--

  "It is true that man is dead, Godfrey--that I have no further fear ofhim--that my secret is safe. But you must give me time to think,Godfrey."

  "Yes," urged her friend. "You must allow her time. The news of thefellow's sudden end has upset her. The release has been so sudden thatshe cannot yet realise it. Release has also come to me," she added."Ah! you do not know the truth, Mr Leaf--it is surely stranger than anyfiction ever written."

  "And may I not know it?" I asked quickly. "Remember that you havetaken me into your confidence up to a certain point. Is Ella aware ofthe truth?"

  "I think not," she faltered, with a hard expression on her face. "It isa disgraceful truth. Since my poor father's death I have made certainstartling discoveries that place matters in an entirely new light. Ihave been examining his private papers, and they have revealed to mefacts which, so infamous, cause me to hide my face from you in shame.I--I am not fit to be your associate or friend of Ella," she added, in ahoarse painful whisper. "I confess to you both, because you have beenmy friends. I confess everything, even the fact that I learnt onlythree days ago."

  "What's that?" I inquired.

  "That I am, after all, what the world calls an adventuress--the daughterof an international thief!" was her low answer, her chin sunk upon herbreast in an attitude of shame. "My poor father, whom I adored, wasonly a thief!" and she burst into tears.

  For some moments I was silent. The door opened behind us, and Sammy,who had returned, stood upon the threshold, surprised that I hadvisitors.

  I motioned to him to enter and close the door. Then I said:--

  "Mr Sampson is my friend; we can speak before him, Miss Miller. Wereyou entirely unaware of your father's real profession?"

  "I swear that I was. I had no idea of it until three days ago, when Idiscovered proof positive that he was in association with certain menwho were expert thieves."

  "Then your association with the fugitive Nardini was in no way connectedwith your father's dishonesty?" I asked. "You have just said thatGordon-Wright's death has set you at liberty. Will you not now tell usthe truth, so that all may be open and straightforward?"

  She hesitated, and I saw that she naturally felt disinclined to condemnthe man of whom she had all her life been so fond, and in whom she hadso implicitly trusted. Many fathers act mysteriously in the eyes oftheir children. Mr Miller had ever been a mystery, and yet with filialaffection she had never once suspected him of leading a double life.

  "Yes," urged Ella, "tell us all. Half an hour ago you told me that youare at last free--that the man who held me so entirely in his power alsoheld you in his unscrupulous hands."

  Sammy said nothing. He had already condemned Lucie, and in his eyes shewas but a mere adventuress.

  "If I confess, Mr Leaf, I wonder if you and Ella will forgive me?" sheexclaimed at last, in a hard, strained voice. "I assure you that I,like yourselves, have been merely a victim of circumstances."

  "Explain the truth," I said, in a voice of sympathy, for I saw by theshame upon her countenance that she had been an innocent victim.

  "Well," she said, "it happened like this. We had been living atEnghien, outside Paris. The man I loved, Manuel Carrera, a youngChilian, had committed suicide because thieves had stolen a large sum ofmoney of which he had accepted the responsibility, and I wasbroken-hearted and grief-stricken. We had left Paris and were inBrussels when the news reached me; therefore, when my father proposedthat we should go on to Salsomaggiore, I welcomed the change. I neverwished to place foot in Paris again. We had kept on the littleapartment we had in Rome, where we usually spent the winter, but beforegoing there we decided to take the cure. About a week after our arrivalat the hotel at Salsomaggiore there came one of Italy's best knownstatesmen, the Onorevole Giovanni Nardini, Minister of Justice,accompanied by his private secretary, a doctor named Gavazzi. Myfather--whom I have since discovered had obtained private information ofNardini's shady financial transactions--at once cultivated hisacquaintance, as well as that of Gavazzi, and while we were taking thecure we became quite intimate friends.

  "On our return to Rome His Excellency often invited us to his fine housein the Via Vittorio Emanuele
, and several times we went out to luncheonat the Villa Verde at Tivoli. Two years went by and each winter we sawa great deal of His Excellency. Last January a pretty fair-hairedEnglish girl named Alice Woodforde, niece of Gavazzi--she being daughterof Gavazzi's sister who married a civil engineer in London namedWoodforde--came out to Rome for the winter, and as Gavazzi was abachelor we offered her the hospitality of our house. She was adelightful girl, about nine years older than myself, and we soon becameinseparable.

  "Before very long I discovered the true situation. Nardini had met andfallen violently in love with his secretary's niece, while Gavazzihimself was contemplating that, by