18
6YNOPSIS.
The story opens at Monte Carlo with
Col. Terence O'Rourke, a military
lance and something of a gambler, in nis
hotel. Leaning on the balcony ne sees a
beautiful girl who suddenly ejiters the
elevator and passes from sight. At ine
gaming table O'Rourke notices two men
watching him. One is the Hon. Bertie
Glynn, while his companion is Viscount
Dos Trebes, a duelist. The viscount tells
him the French government has directed
him to O'Rourke as a man who would
undertake a secret mission. At his apart
ment, O'Rourke. who had agreed to ' U
ndertake the mission, finds a mysterious
letter. The viscount arrives, hands a
wnaled package to O'Rourke, who is noi
to open it until on the ocean. A pair or
drxinty slippers are seen protruding from
under a doorway curtain. The Irishman
Snds the owner of the mysterious feet to
his wife, Beatrix, from whom he haa
*un awav a year previous. They are
reconciled, and opening the letter he finds
that a Rangoon law firm oilers nun
100.000 pounds for a Jewel known as tne
Pool of Flame and left to him by a dy
ins friend, but now In keeping of one
named Chambret In Algeria. tol ' r
worsts the nobleman In a duel. The wife
bids O'Rourke farewell and he P™ m ;f 3
to soon return with the reward. He dis
covers both Glynn and the
board the ship. As he finds chambret
th«re 1s an attack by bandits and his
friend dies telling O'Rourke that he has
left the Pool of Flame with the governor
general, who at sight of a B *£net ring
vriven the colonel will deliver jv e r
Jewel. Arriving at Algeria the Irishman
finds the governor general a way. Dee
Trebes makes a mysterious appointment,
and tells O'Rourke that he has gained
possession of the Jewel by stealing it. In
a duel O'Rourke masters the viscount,
secures possession of the Pool of Flame
and starts by ship for Rangoon. He finds
the captain to be a smuggler who tries to
steal the Jewel. It is finally secured by
the captain and O'Rourke escapes to
land. With the aid of one Danny and
his sweetheart. O'Rourke recovers the
Pool of Flame. On board ship once more,
bound for Rangoon, a mysterious lady
appears. O'Rourke comes upon a lascar
about to attack the lady, who is a Mrs.
Prvnne. and kicks the man into the hold.
Mrs. Prynne claims she is en route for
Indiana "on a mission for the king.
O'Rourke is attacked by the lascar. who
secures the Pool of Flame, the captain
Is shot and the lascar Jumps into the sea.
The ship arrives in port. Danny hands
O'Rourke the Pool of Flame which he
lias stolen from Mrs. Prynne. It is the
real Jewel, the one lost at sea being a
counterfeit. O'Rourke goes, to Calcutta
and discovers Des Trebes disguised. He
now knows that Mrs. Prynne was an ac
complice. Finally he gets to the lawyer
who has offered the reward, delivers the
Jewel and gets the money.
CHAPTER XXX.— (Continued.)
Sypher had very explicitly named
his dinner hour, after the formal Eng
lish fashion, nowhere and by nobody
more rigidly observed than by the
Englishman in the Orient; "eight for
eight-thirty," he had said. And as
O'Kourke, a very dignified and impos
ing O'Rourke in his evening dress,
waited for a sampan on the lower
grating of the Poonali's passenger
gangplank he had a round three-quar
ters for an hour for leeway—ample leis
ure for an interested inspection of
that part of Rangoon lying between
the floating jetty and Sypher's' resi
dence in a suburb near Dalhousle
Park.
Danny remained aboard ship only
temporarily, being instructed to follow
with O'Rourke's belongings to suitable
accommodations already engaged at a
hotel on the Strand, overlooking the
roadstead; from whose windows
O'Rourke was promising himself the
pleasure of watching the arrival of
the steamship bearing his v.'lfe to his
arms.
"Bless her dear race!" said he soft
ly. " 'Tis meself will be desolated If
she's not aboard that Messagerles boat
due tomorrow — now that I can go
back to her, a man of property, no
longer a pauper ne'er-do-well! Think
of that, ye lucky dog!"
" A sampan slid noiselessly in beside
the grating. O'Rourke let himself cau
tiously into it and Incontinently col
lapsed upon the rear seat as the boat
slid away toward the shore lights,
yielding to the vigorous sweeps of tho
single long oar wielded by the Bur
man In the bows.
Ashore, a tikkagharry caught him
up and bore him down the silent road
that winds between the Strand and
the river's edge, then whipped into
Mogul street, where the fluent tide
of life ran broad and deep beneath a
glare of light.
Al too quickly the tlkka whisked
out of the main channel of the city's
life, out beyond the Mohammedan
mosque and the Chetti's hall and tne
Christian chapel, and into the soft,
dense night of the countryside—a
world of darkness sparsely studded with
dim, glowing windows; and all too
soon, again. It swung off from the
highway into a private drive, crunched
over gravel and stopped before the
Illuminated veranda of a native bun
galow.
O'Rourke got down, discharged the
driver and ascended the steps, a little
puzzled to find no one waiting to wel
come him, whether Sypher, Miss Pyn
sent, or at worst a servant. Surely
he was expected. . . . But nobody
appeared. The grating tires of the
departing tikkagharry had made noise
enough to apprise the household of
the arrival of a guest, one would think.
Nevertheless O'Rourke remained un
greeted
He stroked his chin, perplexed, won-
®?POOL JH
FLAMEI^
I by LOUIS
dering if by mischance the native
driver had brought him to the wrong
bungalow. But It was now too late to
call him back and make sure. And
this verandah, still and empty as It
was. softly lighted by lanterns depend
ent from Its roof, was to him a small
oasis in a world of darkness. With
out advice he was lost, could find his
way no other where. He would have
simply to wait until the house
hold came to life, or until by his own
efforts he succeeded in quickening It.
He tried to do this latter to the
best of his ability by tapping a sum
mons on the door-jamb. Through the
wire insect-screens a broad hallway
and a staircase rising to the upper
floor were visible. Limp, cool-looking
rugs conceived in pleasing color
schemes protected the hardwood floor
ing. To the right a door stood ajar
and permitted a broad shaft of light
to escape from the room beyond. On
the other hand a similar door, like
wise open, showed a dimmer glow.
Two other doors were closed;
O'Rourke assumed that they led to
the kitchen offices.
Having waited a few moments with
out event, the Irishman knocked a sec
ond time, and would have knocked a
third when he thought better of It
and glanced at his watch. It was only
a matter of ten minutes after eight;
strictly interpreting the intent of
Sypher's invitation, he was a trifle
early. Presumably the servants were
all out of earshot, preoccupied with
preparations for the meal; while
Sypher and his niece were most prob
ably still dressing.
With an Impatient air O'Rourke
turned back to the veranda. A ham
mock in one corner was swinging idly
in the breeze. A number of wicker
armchairs stood about. Invitingly fur
nished with cushions. O'Rourke se
lected one and disposed himself to
wait.
After five minutes he frowned
thoughtfully and lit a cigarette.
"Faith, 'tis a fine surprise he's giv
en me," he said, irresolute. "But it
can't be premeditated Insult. Why
should it be? And they can't all be
out 'Tis sorry I am I let that driver
go; more than likely this will be the
wrong house entirely. That must be
the trouble. I'll just go, quietly fold
uv me tent and decamp before the in
habitants, if any there be, discover
me and run me off the premises."
But a.t the head of the steps, with
foot poised to descend, something re
strained him; it would be difficult to
say unless it were the unbroken,
steadfast, uncanny quiet. "I'll have a
look." he determined suddenly; "per
haps . . ."
He turned to the right and stopped
before a long, open window, looking
into what seemed to be a music room
ana library combined. Brilliantly il
luminated by hanging lamps of un
usual brilliancy, the interior was clear
ly revealed. And with an abrupt ex
clamation the adventurer entered, feel
ing for the revolver, to carry which
had of late become habitual with him.
The room was simply furnished, if
tastefully. There was a grand piano
near the veranda windows with a mu
sic rack and cabinet near by. Dis
persed about the floor were a few com
fortable chairs, a rug of rare Orien
tal texture, two consoles adorned with
valuable porcelains. In the middle of
the room stood a draped center-table
littered with books and magazines; to
ward the back a long, flat-topped desk.
And against the rear wall, ordinarily
hidden by a folding screen of Japan
ese manufacture, now swept aside,
was a small steel safe. Upon this
O'Rourke's attention was centered.
He remarked that it looked new and
very strong; it was open, disclosing
a variety of pigeonholes more or less
occupied by docketed documents, and
a smaller interior strong-box.
Between the desk and the safe a man
lay prone and quite motionless. He
was dressed for a ceremonious dinner,
and apparently had been struck down
in the act of stepping from his desk
to the safe. For beyond all doubt he
had been murdered. The haft of a
knife protruded front his back, buried
to its hilt just beneath his left shoul
der-blade.
O'Rourke moved over to the body
and lifted it by the shoulders, turn
ing the face to the light. Then, with
a low oath, he dropped it.
A small sound, so flight as to be all
but indistinguishable, penetrated
O'Rourke's stupefaction. He stood
erect, looking about, telling himself
that the noise resembled as much as
anything the hushed cry of a child
sobbing in sleep, soft and Infinitely
pathetic. Unable to assign its source
elsewhere, he attributed it to the
stricken man at his feet; and in a des
perate hope that the pulse of life
might still linger lb Sypher's body, he
knelt, withdrew the knife, turned the
corpse upon its back, and laid bis ear
to Its breast, above the heart. Be
yond dispute, Sypher was dead.
"Poor divvle!" muttered the Irish
man. . . . "The Pool of Flame!
M
CHAPTER XXXII.
For several minutes O'Rourke re
mained beside the body, making two
notable discoveries. For he was quick
to note the fact that one of the dead
man's hands was tightly clenched,
while the other lay half-open and
limp. The former was closed upon a
leather thong so stout as to resist any
attempt to break It by main strength,
so firmly held that the murderer had
found it necessary to sever it with
a knife. The knife itself was there,
for proof of this; the sheen of light
upon its mother-of-pearl handle caught
the Irishman's eye.
Picking it up, he subjected It to a
close examination that, however,
gleaned no information. It was sim
ply a small pocket penknife, little
worn, with blades of German steel, it
carried no identifying marks and told
him but one thing—that the assassin
had been a European; a native would
never have bothered with so ineffec
tual a thing when a sturdy weapon,
serviceable alike for offense and de
fense, would have served its purpose
equally well.
From this he turned to the dagger
which he had taken from the body;
a stiletto with a plain ebony handle,
unmarked, unscratched, apparently
fresh from the dealer's showcase. It
meant nothing, save that it Indicated
|!J- ' in
Beyond All Doubt, He Had Been Murdered.
still more strongly that the murderer <
was most probably not a native. A
Greek or an Italian, a Genoese sailor
or a native of Southern France—say
a seafaring man out of Marseilles —
might have carried it.
"Oho!" said O'Rourke, speculative.
"A Frenchman, mayhap!"
He got up. satisfied that he would 1
learn nothing more by continuing his :
search of the solicitor's body. The
mental link between the fact of the
crime and its perpetrator was inevita
ble; O'Rourke believed implicitly that
Syrher had been murdered by Des i
Trebes masquerading as "De Hyeres."
And he could have done himself an
injury in the impotent fury aroused by 1
realization that he had permitted him- i
self to be so childishly hoodwinked,
despite the suspicions he had enter
tained of the soi-disant "De Hyeres." ]
He felt himself responsible, since he i
had neglected to warn Sypher. It bad
been on his tongue's tip that after- t
noon, when Sypher himself had dived- !
ed the warning by his request that the
O'Rourke could more comfortably si>ln
his yarn after they Bad dined.
"Poor divvle!" said the adventurer <
again. He stooped to spread his I
handkerchief over the staring, pitiful!
face. "And poor, poor young woman!"
He was startled by the thought of
her; for the first time It entered Into
his comprehension, until then bounded
by the hard and fast fact of the mur
der. Now Instantly his concern about
the crime was resolved into solicitude
for the girl. What could have hap
pened to her? What had become of
the servants, whose sudden desertion
had left the house so sinisterly quiet?
Swept on by a fervor of anxiety on
the girl's behalf, O'Rourke glanced
quickly about the study to assure him
self that he had overlooked nothing of
importance, then passed out into the
main hall or reception-room. Here the
most searching inspection revealed
nothing amiss. He moved onto the
other room on the main floor and
found himself in the dining-room; here
again all was in perrect order.
The kitchen offices in the rear of
the house next received his attention;
he found them completely untenanted,
having apparently been abandoned in
desperate haste. Everything was In
disorder; the meal he had been in
vited to partake of was cooking to cin
ders in pots and ovens; a heavy of
fense of burning food thickened the
atmosphere. Half-stifled, he left the
place as quickly as possible, returned
to the main hall and ascended to the
upper story.
Here he found three bed-chambers
and a bath. He first entered Sypher's,
then the room evidently occupied by
Miss Pynsent, finally what was un
questionably a guest-chamber, discov
ering nothing noteworthy until he
reached the latter. And here here
celved a shock. Thrown carelessly
across the foot of the bed was a wom
an's evening wrap, while on the bureau
were gloves, long, white and fresh, but
wrinkled from recent wear, and a silk
en veil. Plainly these were the prop
erty of the fourth guest, whose place
had been set at the table below, but
of whose Identity he had not been ap
prised. Presumably, he reflected, she
(whoever she was) had been Intended
as the fulfillment of Svpher's hinted
surprise.
A guess formed vaguely in his brain,
and suddenly curdled into a suspicion.
He took the gloves in his hand, ex
amining them for marks of identifica
tion, but found none. But In one «or
ner of the veil he discovered an em
broidered Initial—the letter B.
"Beatrix?" he guessed huskily. "Is
It possible? . . . He promised me
a surprise. . . . 'Twould have been
like her to plan it with him—and 'tis
quite possible she reached Rangoon
before I. . . . My wife! . . ."
Hastily he returned to the evening
wrap, a fascinating contrivance of lace
and satin unquestionably the last cry
of the Parisian mode, such a wrap as
his wife might well have worn. But
beyond Pa aula's label stitched iaalde I
Mi dainty pocket It boasted BO dt» ,
tinguishing mark. '
He stumbled hurriedly from the
room and down the stairs, returning '
to the study where Sypher's body
lay; tortured by mounting fears, he
stood and looked blankly about him,
at a loss where next to turn, If almost
preternaturally alive to every sound
or sight that might afford him a clue. 1
. . . He fought against a suspicion
that crawled like a viper in his brain. 1
Had he, after all, t>een deceived in '
Sypher's niece, Miss Pynsent? Had
that Innocent charm of hers been a \
thing assumed, a cloak for criminal du- |
plicity? Had she in reality been Des :
Trebes' accomplice? Had those clear i
and limpid eyes of youth, all through
that voyage been looking forward to
such a scene, to such a tragic ending
as this? Could she have afforded the
Frenchman the aid he needed to con
summate his chosen crime?
For he was now ready to believe Des
Trebes prime mover in this terri
ble affair; he no longer entertained
a shred of doubt that his enemy had
traveled with him from Calcutta un
der the disguise of"De Hyeres." And
he believed the man had planned this
thing far ahead; else would he have
surely taken some overt step to pre
vent O'Rourke from delivering the
ruby to Sypher. He divined acutely
that, despairfng of any further at
tempt to win the jewel from him, Des
Trebes had turned his wits to the task
of stealing It from Bypher; somebody
naturally much less to be feared than
the adventurer.
But on the other hand, if the girl
had not been Des Trebes' assistant —
what had become of her? And what
of her guest—the lady one of whose
Initials was B?
It was not Inconsistent with Des
Trebes' whole-hearted villainy that he
should employ a gang of thugs suffi
ciently large to overpower and make
away with bodily and in a body Miss
Pynsent, her guest and the servants.
. . . "Great God!" cried O'Rourke.
"If it be in truth my wife —!"
Without presage a thin but impera
tive tintinnabulation broke upon the
silence of the house of death. O'Rourke ;
jumped as if shot. Somewhere in one
of the other rooms a telephone bell
was ringing. It ceased, leaving a
strident stillness; but before he could
move to find the instrument and an
swer the call, there rose a second time
that moaning sob which first he had
attributed to an impossible source,
then, in the turmoil of his thoughts, >
had forgotten.
He waited, listening intently. The i
telephone called again and again sub
sided. Then a third time he heard the
groan, more faint than before, but suf
ficiently loud to suggest its source.
He moved warily toward the windows
and out upon the veranda —hounded
by the telephone. Rut that would
have to wait; hero was a more ur- !
gent matter to his hand. Between th<? 1
long, insistent rings the moaning wae
again audible; and this time he lo
cated it acurately. It came from the
lawn, near the edge of the veranda. !
He stepped off carefully, but almost \
stumbled over the body of a man who
lay there, huddled and moaning.
"And another!" whispered the ad- '
venturer, awed. "Faith, this Pool of
Flame . . .!"
He was at once completely horrified
and utterly dumbfounded. Nothing he
had come upon within the bungalow
seemed to indicate that there had been
anything in the nature of a struggle
prior to the assassination of Sypher.
He had up to this moment considered
it nothing but a cold blooded and cow
ardly murder; the man had apparent
ly been struck down from behind in to
tal ignorance of his danger. O'Rourke
had deduced that Sypher had risen
from the desk to put the jewel In his
safe; and that while he was so en
gaged the assassin, till then skulking
outside the long windows and waiting
for a moment when his victim's back
should be turned, had entered and
struck. . . But how could he recon
cile that hypothesis with this man who
lay weltering and at the point of death
at the veranda edge?
Indeed, he could not do so. But
this victim, at least, was not yet dead;
if he had strength to moan, he might
yet be revived, at least temporarily.
Without delay, then, the Irishman
grasped the man beneath the armpits,
and. lifting him bodily to the veranda,
dragged him Into the library. Not un
til he placed him in the middle of the
floor, beneath the blare of the lamp
light, did O'Rourke have an oppor
tunity to observe his features. But
now as he dropped to his knees beside
the body, his wondering cry testified
to immediate recognition.
The latest name to be Inscribed on \
the long and blood-stained death-roll
of the Pool of Flame was that of Paul
Maurice, Vicomte des Trebes; or. If ,
there were life enough left in the ;
man to enable him to insist upon his
nom de guerre (the wanderer reflected ,
grimly) Raoul de Hyeres.
"What next?" wondered O'Rourke. j
"What can the meaning of it all be
now?"
(TO BE CONTINUE D.J
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