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Elppletons'
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TLibrary
No. 298
THE MYSTERY OF THE
CLASPED HANDS


GUY BOOTHEY'S NOVELS.
Bach, 12mo, cloth, $1.oo; paper, so cents.
The Mystery of the Clasped Hands.
My Indian Queen.
A Maker of Nations.
Dr. Nikola's Experiment.
Pharos, the Egyptian.
The Lust of Hate.
The Beautiful White Devil.
Dr. Nikola.
A Bid for Fortune.
The Marriage of Esther.
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.


THE MYSTERY OF THE
CLASPED HANDS
A NOVEL
BY
GUY BOOTHBY
AUTHOR OF DR. Wikola's EXPERIMENT
PHAROS, THE EGYPTIAN
MY INDIAN QUEEN, ETC.
N E W YORK
D. A PPL E TO N AND COMPANY
1901
Eveſ?


THE NEW YORK
prºLIC LIBRARY
$2024B.
As ºn R. LINºx AND
~ * PE
W. * THE º
º, New York
º
**-*-*
CopyRIGHT, 1901,
By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.
All rights reserved.


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THE MYSTERY
OF THE CLASPED HANDS
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“I Never knew such a fellow as you
are for ferreting out these low, foreign eat-
ing-houses,” said Godfrey Henderson to his
friend, Victor Fensden, as they turned from
Oxford Street into one of the narrow thor-
oughfares in the neighbourhood of Soho.
“Why you should take such trouble, and at
the same time do your digestion such irrep-
arable injury, I can not imagine. There are
any number of places where you can get a
chop or steak, free of garlic, in a decent quar-
ter of the Town, to say nothing of being
waited upon by a man who does look as if he
had been brave enough to face the dangers of
washing once or twice within five years.”
His companion only laughed. •
“Go on, my friend, go on,” he said, blow-
ing a cloud of cigarette smoke. “You pre-
tend to be a cosmopolitan of cosmopolitans,
- I


2 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
but you will remain insular to the day of your
death. To you, a man who does not happen
to be an Englishman must of necessity be
dirty, and be possessed of a willingness to
sever your jugular within the first few min-
utes of your acquaintance. With regard to
the accusation you bring against me, I am
willing to declare, in self-defence, that I like
burrowing about among the small restaurants
in this quarter, for the simple reason that I
meet men who are useful to me in my work,
besides affording me food for reflection.”
, The taller man grunted scornfully.
“Conspirators to a man,” he answered.
“Nihilists, Anarchists, members of the Mafia,
the Camorristi, and the Carbonari. Some
day you will enter into an argument with one
of them and a knife thrust between your ribs
will be the result.”
“It may be so,” returned Victor Fensden,
with a shrug of his narrow shoulders. “Bet-
ter that, however, than a life of stolid British
priggishness. How you manage to paint as
you do when you have so little of the roman-
tic in yeur temperament, is a thing I can not
for the life of me understand. That a man
who rows, plays-football and cricket, and who
will walk ten miles to see a wrestling match
:


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 3
or a prize fight, should be gifted with such
a sense of colour and touch, is as great a
mystery to me as the habits of the ichthyo-
saurus.”
And indeed, what Fensden said was cer-
tainly true. Godfrey Henderson, one of the
most promising of our younger painters, was
as unlike the popular notion of an artist as
could well be found. He had rowed stroke
in his 'Varsity boat, had won for himself a fair
amount of fame as a good all-round athlete,
and at the same time had painted at least three
of the most beautiful pictures—pictures with
a subtle touch of poetry in them—that the
public had seen for many years. His height
was fully six feet one and a half, his shoulders
were broad and muscular; he boasted a pleas-
ant and open countenance, such a one in fact
as makes one feel instinctively that its owner
is to be trusted. Taken altogether, a casual
observer would have declared him to be a
young country Squire, and few would have
guessed that the greater portion of his life
was spent standing before an easel, palette and
brush in hand.
Victor Fensden, his companion, was of an
altogether different stamp. He was at least
three inches shorter, was slimly built, and at


4 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs
first glance would appear to possess a highly
nervous and delicate constitution. In his
dress he also differed from his friend. His
taste betrayed a partiality for velvet coats; his
ties were usually startling, so far as colour
went; he wore his hair longer than is custom-
ary, and further adorned his face with a neat
little Vandyke beard and mustache. Like
Henderson he was also a votary of the brush.
His pictures, however, were of the impression-
ist order—pretty enough in their way, but
lacking in form, and a trifle vague as to col-
ouring. On occasions he wrote poetry.
There were some who said he was not sincere,
that his pictures were milk-and-water affairs,
suggestive of the works of greater men, and
only intended to advertise himself. If that
were so, the success they achieved was com-
parative. Sad to relate, there were people in
London who had not heard the name of Vic-
tor Fensden; while the walls of the Academy,
which he affected so much to despise, had not
so far been honoured by his patronage.
“The whole thing,” he would say, adopting
the language of our American cousins, “is
controlled by a Business Ring; the Hanging
Committee and the dealers stand in with each
other. If you prefer to do bad work delib-


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 5
erately, or at any rate are content to be com-
monplace, then you're safe for admission.
But if you prefer to do something which may,
or may not, please the multitude, but which
will last longer than Burlington House, or the
National Gallery itself, then you must be con-
tent to remain outside.” After this tirade,
regardless of the implied sneer at his work,
Godfrey would laugh and turn the matter off
by proposing dinner, luncheon, or some other
distraction. He knew the value of his own
work, and was content to estimate it accord-
ingly. -
Having reached the end of the street down
which they had been walking, when the con-
versation already described occurred, they
found themselves before the entrance to a
small eating-house. One glance was suffi-
cient to show that it was of the foreign order,
so derided by Henderson a few moments
ago before. They entered and looked about
them. The room was long and narrow, and
contained some ten or a dozen small tables,
three or four of which were already occupied.
Pictures of the German school, apparently
painted by the yard, and interspersed with
gaudy portraits of King Humbert with his
mustache, Victor Emmanuel with his wealth


6 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
of orders, the latter cheek by jowl with Mr.
Garibaldi in his felt hat, decorated the walls.
The proprietor, a small, tubby individual, with
the blackest of black hair and eyes, and an
olive skin that glistened like the marble tops
of the tables, came forward to welcome them.
At his request they seated themselves and
gave their orders.
“What enjoyment you can find in this
sort of thing I can not imagine,” repeated
Henderson, almost irritably, as he looked
about him. “If you take a pleasure in maca-
roni and tomato, and find poetry in garlic and
sauer-kraut, the divine instinct must be even
more highly developed in you than your
warmest admirers believe. We might have
gone to the club and have had a decent meal
there.”
“And have had to listen to a lot of super-
cilious young idiots chattering about what
they are pleased to call ‘their work,’” the
other replied. “No, no, we are better off
here. Set your imagination to work, my dear
fellow, and try to believe yourself in Florence,
with the moonlight streaming down on the
Ponte Vecchio; or in Naples, and that you
can hear the waves breaking up on the rock
under the Castello del Ovo. You might even


8 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
here. Have I not heard you grumbling
morning, noon, and night, that the model for
your new picture is about as difficult to find
as, well, shall we say, an honest dealer? Now,
I believe that the humble mouse was once
able to assist the lion—forgive the implied
compliment—in other words, I think I have
achieved the impossible. It will take too
long to tell you how I managed it, but the
fact remains that I have discovered the girl
you want, and what is more, she will be here
to-night. If, when you have seen her, you
come to the conclusion that she will not an-
swer your purpose, then I shall be quite will-
ing to confess that my knowledge of a beauti-
ful woman is only equal to your appreciation
of an Italian dinner in a cheap Soho restau-
rant. I have spoken!”
“And so you have really brought me
here to eat this villainous concoction,” Hen-
derson answered, contemptuously regarding
the mess before him, “in order to show me
a face that you think may be useful to me in
my work? My dear fellow, you know as well
as I do that we think differently upon such
matters. What you have repeatedly declared
to be the loveliest face you have ever seen, I
would not sketch upon a canvas; while an-


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 9
other, that haunts me by day and night, does
not raise a shadow of enthusiasm in you. I
am afraid you have had your trouble in vain.
But what abominable stuff this is to be sure!
Order some wine, for pity's sake.”
A flask of chianti was brought them, and
later some goat's milk cheese. Upon the lat-
ter, bad as it was, Henderson elected to dine.
He had barely finished what was placed before
him when an exclamation from his companion
caused him to turn his head in the direction
of the door. Two women were entering the
restaurant at the moment, and were approach-
ing the table at which the young men sat.
The elder was a stout and matronly party,
dark of eye, Swarthy of skin, and gorgeous in
her colouring, so much so, indeed, that not
the slightest doubt could have existed as to
her nationality. She was a daughter of Italy
from the top of her head to the soles of her
ample feet. Her companion, however, was
modelled on altogether different lines. She
was tall, graceful, and so beautiful, in a statu-
esque way, that Henderson felt his heart thrill
with pleasure at the sight of her. Here was
the very woman he had been so anxious to
discover. If he had hunted the Continent of
Europe through, he could not have found


Io THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
any one better suited to the requirements of
the work he had in hand. Since it was plain
that it was she for whom Fensden was wait-
ing, it looked as if their tastes, for once, were
likely to be the same.
“What a perfect face!” exclaimed God-
frey, more to himself than to his companion.
“At any hazard, I must induce her to sit
to me.”
Fensden looked at his friend’s face, made
a note of the admiration he saw there, and
smiled to himself.
“What did I tell you?” he inquired with
a note of triumph in his voice. “You pooh-
poohed the notion that I should ever be able
to find you a model. What do you say
now?” -
“She is perfect,” Henderson replied.
“Just look at the eyes, the beautiful con-
tour of the face, the shapely neck and the
hands! Great Scott! what is a woman of her
class doing with such hands? Where did you
meet her?”
“In another of my contemptible restau-
rants,” Fensden answered. “Directly I saw
her, I said to myself: “This is the model for
Godfrey!' I made inquiries about her, and,
finding that she was willing to sit, made


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS II
an appointment to meet her here this even-
ing.”
By this time Godfrey's antagonism had en-
tirely left him. His only desire now was to
secure this woman, and, with her assistance,
to complete his masterpiece. As soon as the
doors of Burlington House were thrown open,
that face should look down upon the picture-
lovers of England, or he'd never touch a
brush again. -
The two women, by this time, had seated
themselves at another table; and it was almost
with a sense of disappointment that Godfrey
observed his ideal commence her meal. To
watch her filling her pretty mouth to over-
flowing with steaming macaroni was not a
pleasing sight. It was too human and too
suggestive of a healthy appetite to harmonize
with the poetic framework in which his im-
agination had already placed her.
When the ladies had finished their meal,
the two young men left their own table and
crossed the room to that at which they were
seated. Fensden said something in Italian,
which elicited a beaming smile from the elder
lady, and a gesture of approval from her com-
panion. It was not the first time in his life
that Godfrey Henderson had had occasion to


12 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
wish he had taken advantage of the opportuni-
ties he had had of acquiring a knowledge of
that melodious language.
“The signora declares that there is no
occasion for us to speak Italian, since she is
an accomplished English scholar,” said Fens-
den, with a sarcastic touch that was not lost
upon Henderson.
“The signorina also speaks our villainous
tongue as well as if she had been born and
bred within the sound of Bow Bells.”
At this supposed compliment, the elder
lady smiled effusively, while her daughter
looked gravely from one man to the other as
if she were not quite sure of the value to be
placed upon what Fensden had said. Having
received permission, the two men seated
themselves at the table, and Henderson or—
dered another flask of wine. Under its influ-
ence their acquaintance ripened rapidly. It
was not, however, until they had been talking
some little time, that the all-important subject.
was broached. -
“And it is Teresina's portrait that your
friend would paint, signor?” said the elder
lady, turning to Fensden. “And why not?
'Tis a beautiful face, though I, her mother,
say it. If the signor will make the—what


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 13
you call it—'rangements, it shall be as he
wishes.”
Less than a minute was sufficient to place
the matter on a satisfactory basis, and it was
thereupon settled that the Signorina Cardi
should attend at the studio at a certain hour
every week-day until the picture was finished.
Matters having been arranged in this eminent-
ly friendly fashion, the meeting broke up, and
with many bows and compliments on Fens-
den's and the signora's parts, they bade each
other adieu. A few minutes later, the two
young men found themselves once more in
the street.
“My dear fellow, I don’t know how to
thank you,” said Henderson. “I’ve been
worrying myself more than I can say at not
being able to find the face I wanted. I owe
you ten thousand apologies.”
But Fensolen would not hear of such a
thing as an apology. His only desire was
that the picture should be successful, he
said.
“I had no idea that he was so fond of
me,” Henderson remarked to himself that
night when he was alone in his bedroom.
“Fancy his hunting through London for
a model for me. He is the last man I
2


14 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
*
should have thought would have taken the
trouble.”
Next morning Teresina entered upon her
duties, and Godfrey set to work with more
than his usual enthusiasm. The picture was
to be his magnum opus, the greatest effort he
had yet given to the world. The beautiful
Italian proved to be a good sitter, and her
delight as the picture grew upon the canvas
was not to be concealed. Meanwhile Fens-
den smoked innumerable cigarettes, composed
fin-de-siècle poems in her honour, and made a
number of impressionist studies of her head
that his friends declared would eventually as-
tonish artistic London. At last the picture
was finished and sent in. Then followed that
interval of anxious waiting, so well known to
those who have striven for such honours as
the Academy has to bestow. When it was
announced that it had passed the first and
second rejections great was the rejoicing in
the studio. e
“It is your face that has done it, Tere-
sina,” cried Godfrey. “I knew they wouldn't
be able to resist that.”
“Nay, nay,” said the signora, who was
present, “such compliments will turn the
child’s head. Her face would not be there


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 15
but for the signor's cleverness. Well do I
remember that when Luigi Maffoni painted
the portrait of Monsignore 33
No one heeded her, so she continued the
narrative in an undertone to the cat on her
lap. The day, however, was not destined to
end as happily as it had begun. That even-
ing, when they were alone together in the
studio, Fensden took Godfrey to task.
“Dear boy,” he said, as he helped himself
to a cigarette from a box on the table beside
him, “I have come to the conclusion that you
must go warily. There are rocks ahead, and,
from what I see, you are running straight for
them.”
“What on earth is the matter now?”
Godfrey asked, stretching himself out in an
easy chair as he spoke. “I know the poise
of that head is not quite what it might be, but
haven't I promised you that I'll alter it to-
morrow? Teresina is the very best model in
the world, and as patient as she's beautiful.”
“That's exactly what I am complaining
of,” Victor answered, quietly. “If she were
not, I should not bother my head about her.
I feel, in a measure, responsible, don't you
See? If it hadn't been for me, she would not
be here.”


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 17
“Great Scott! You don't mean to say
you think I'm such a beast as to encourage
her?” he cried. “You know as well as I do
that I have behaved toward her only as I have
done to all the other models before her.
Surely you would wish me to be civil to the
girl, and try to make her work as pleasant as
possible for her? If you think I’ve been a
blackguard, say so outright!”
“My dear Godfrey, nothing could be fur-
ther from my thoughts,” answered Fensden in
his usual quiet voice, that one of his friends
once compared to the purring of a cat. “I
should be a poor friend, however, if I were
to allow you to go on as you are going with-
out an expostulation. Can not you look at it
in the same light as I do? Are you so blind
that you can not see that this girl is falling
every day more deeply in love with you?
The love-light gleams in her eyes whenever
she looks at you; she sees an implied caress
even in the gentle pats you give her drapery,
when you arrange it on the stage there; a
tender solicitude for her welfare when you tell
her to hurry home before it rains. What is
the end of it all to be? I suppose you do not
intend making her your wife?”
“My wife?” said Godfrey, blankly, as if


18 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
the idea were too preposterous to have ever
occurred to him. “Surely you must be jest-
ing to talk like this?”
“I am not jesting with you, if you are not
jesting with her,” the other replied. “You
must see for yourself that the girl worships
the very ground you walk upon. However,
there is still time for matters to be put right.
She has so far only looked at the affair from
her own standpoint; what is more, I do not
want her to lose her employment with you,
since it means so much to her. What I do
want is, that you should take hold of yourself
in time and prevent her from being made un-
happy while you have the opportunity.”
“You may be quite sure that I will do so,”
Henderson replied, more stiffly than he had
yet spoken. “I am more sorry than I can
say that this should have occurred. Teresina
is a good girl, and I would no more think of
causing her pain than I would of striking my
own sister. And now I’m off to bed. Good-
night.”
True to his promise, his behaviour next
day, so far as Teresina was concerned, was so
different that she regarded him with surprise,
quite unable to understand the reason of the
change. She thought she must have of


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS I9
fended him in some way, and endeavoured by
all the means in her power to win herself back
into his good graces. But the more she tried
to conciliate him, the further he withdrew
into his shell. Victor Fensden, smoking his
inevitable cigarette, waited to see what the
result would be. There was a certain amount
of pathos in the situation, and a close observer
might have noticed that the strain was telling
upon both of the actors in it, the girl in par-
ticular. For the next fortnight or so, the
moral temperature of the studio was not as
equable as of old. Godfrey, who was of too
honest a nature to make a good conspirator,
chafed at the part he was being called upon to
play, while Teresina, who only knew that she
loved, and that her love was not returned, was
divided between her affections for the man
and a feeling of wounded dignity for herself.
“I wish to goodness I could raise suffi-
cient money to get out of London for six
months,” said Godfrey, one evening, as they
sat together in the studio. “I’d be off like a
shot.”
Fensden knew why he said this.
“I am sorry I can't help you,” he replied.
“I am about as badly off as yourself. But
surely the great picture sold well?”


20 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
“Very well; for me, that is to say,” God-
frey replied. “But I had to part with most
of it next day.”
He did not add that he had sent most of it
to his widowed sister, who was very badly off
and wanted help to send her boy to college.
A short silence followed; then Fensden
said: “If you had money what would you
do?”
“Go abroad,” said Godfrey quickly.
“The strain of this business is more than I
can stand. If I had a few hundreds to spare
we'd go together and not come back for six
months. By that time everything would
have settled down to its old normal condi-
tion.”
How little did he guess that the very
thing that seemed so impossible was destined
to come to pass!


CHAPTER II
ONE morning a week or so after the con-
versation described at the end of the previous
chapter, Godfrey Henderson found lying on
the table in the studio a long, blue envelope,
the writing upon which was of a neat and
legal character. He did not own a halfpenny
in the world, so what this could mean he was
not able to imagine. Animated by a feeling
of curiosity he opened the envelope and with-
drew the contents. He read the letter
through the first time without altogether
realizing its meaning; then, with a vague
feeling of surprise, he read it again. He had
just finished his second perusal of it when
Fensden entered the room. He glanced at
Godfrey's face, and said, as if in inquiry:
“Anything the matter? You look scared!”
“A most extraordinary thing,” returned
Godfrey. “You have heard me talk of old
Henderson of Detwich?”
“Your father's brother? The old chap
2I


22 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
who sends you a brace of grouse every season,
and asks when you are going to give up being
a starving painter and turn your attention to
business? What of him?”
“He is dead and buried,” answered God-
frey. “This letter is from his lawyer to say
that I am his heir, in other words that Det-
wich passes to me, with fifteen thousand a
year on which to keep it up, and that they are
awaiting my instructions.”
There was a pause which lasted for upward
of a quarter of a minute. Then Fensden held
out his hand.
“My dear fellow, I am sure I congratulate
you most heartily,” he said. “I wish you
luck with all my heart. The struggling days
are over now. For the future you will be
able to follow your art as you please. You
will also be able to patronize those who are
not quite so fortunate. Fifteen thousand a
year and a big country place! Whatever will
you do with yourself?”
“That is for the Future to decide,” God-
frey replied.
That afternoon he paid a visit to the office
of the firm of solicitors who had written to
him. They corroborated the news contained
in their letter, and were both assiduous in


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 23
their attentions and sincere in their desire to
serve him.
Four days later it was arranged that God-
frey and Fensden should start for the Conti-
nent. Before doing so, however, the former
purchased a neat little gold watch and chain
which he presented to Teresina, accompanied
by a cheque equivalent to six months’ salary,
calculated at the rate she had been receiv-
ing.
“Don’t forget me, Teresina,” he said, as
he looked round the now dismantled studio.
“Let me know how you get on, and remem-
ber if ever you want a friend I shall be only
too glad to serve you.”
At that moment Fensden hailed him from
the cab outside, bidding him hurry, or he
feared they would miss their train. Godfrey
accordingly held out his hand.
“Good-bye,” he said, and though he
would have given worlds to have prevented
it, a lump rose in his throat as he said it, and
his voice was so shaky that he felt sure she
must notice it.
Then, bidding her give the key to the
landlord when she left the studio, he went out
into the street, and jumped into a cab, which
next moment started off for the station.


24 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
How was he to know that Teresina was lying
in a dead faint upon the studio floor?
When they left England for the Continent
Godfrey had only the vaguest notion of what
they were going to do after they left Paris.
Having spent a fortnight in the French capi-
tal they journeyed on to Switzerland, put in a
month at Lucerne, three weeks in Rome, and
found themselves, in the middle of November,
at Luxor, looking upon the rolling waters of
the Nile. Their sketch books were surfeited
with impressions, and they themselves were
filled with a great content. They had both
visited the Continent on numerous occasions
before, but this was the first time that they
had made the acquaintance of the “Land of
the Pharaohs.” Godfrey was delighted with
everything he saw, and already he had the
ideas for a dozen new pictures in his head.
“I had no notion that any sunset could
be so gorgeous,” he said one day, when they
sat together watching the ball of fire descend
to his rest on the western horizon of the
desert. “The colours have not yet been
discovered that could possibly do it justice.
For the future I shall come out here every
year.”
“Don’t be too sure, my friend,” said Fens-


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 25
den. “There was a time when such a thing
might have been possible, but circumstances
have changed with you. You are no longer
the erratic Bohemian artist, remember, but a
man with a stake in the country, and a county
magnate.” --
“But what has the county magnate to do
with the question at issue?” Godfrey in-
quired.
“Everything in the world,” retorted his
companion. “In virtue of your new position
you will have to marry. The future Mrs.
Henderson, in all probability, will also have a
stake in the country. She will have great
ideas, moreover, connected with what she will
term the improvement of the land, and, be-
yond a trip to the Italian lakes at long inter-
vals, will not permit you to leave the country
of her forefathers.”
“What a strange fellow you are, to be
sure!” replied Godfrey. “To hear you talk
one would think that the possession of money
—and, by Jove, it's a very decent thing to
have when you come to consider it—must
necessarily relegate a man to the region of the
commonplace. Why shouldn't I marry a girl
who is fond of travelling?”
“Because, as a rule, Fate ordains other-


26 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
wise,” Fensden replied. “I think I can de-
scribe the sort of girl you will marry.”
“Then do so, by all means,” said Godfrey.
“I’ll smoke another cigar while you are ar-
ranging it.”
“In the first place she will be tall. Your
idea of the ludicrous would not let you marry
a small woman. She will have large hands
and feet, and the latter will be heavily shod.
That is how in London I always pick out the
girls who live in the country. She will be
handsome rather than pretty, for the reason
that your taste lies in that direction. She
will not flirt, because she will be in love with
you. She will be an admirable housewife of
the solid order, and while I should be pre-
pared to trust to her judgment in the matter
of dogs and horses, roots, crops, and the
dairy farm, finer susceptibilities she will have
none. Do you like the picture?”
“Scarcely,” said Henderson; “and yet,
when all is said and done a man might do
worse.”
There was a pause, during which each man
knew what the other was thinking about.
Godfrey was recalling Teresina's beautiful
face, and Fensden knew that he was doing so.
“By the way,” said Fensden, very quietly,


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 27
“I noticed this morning that you received a
letter bearing an Italian postmark. Would it
be indiscreet if I inquired your correspond-
ent's name?”
“I don’t see why there should be any
mystery about it,” Henderson replied. “It
was from Teresina.”
“From Teresina?” said the other, with a
look of surprise.
“Yes, from Teresina,” his friend an-
swered. “I made her promise before we
left home that should she leave England she
would let me have her address, and, if she
were in need of anything, she would com-
municate with me. You can see the letter
if you like. Here it is.”
He took the letter in question from his
pocket and handed it to his companion. It
consisted of only a few lines and gave the
writer's address with the hope that the time
might, soon come when she would again be
allowed to sit to “her kind patron.”
Victor, having perused it, handed it back
to Godfrey, who replaced it in his pocket
without a word.
Two days later they returned by steamer
to Cairo, where they took up their abode at
the Mena House Hotel. Godfrey preferred


28 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
it, because it was some distance from the dust
of the city, and Fensden because he averred
that the sneer on the face of the Sphinx
soothed him more than all the luxuries of
Cairo. As it was, he sat in the veranda of
the hotel and made impressionist sketches of
dragomen, camels, and the backsheesh-beg-
ging Bedouins of the Pyramids. Godfrey
found it impossible to work.
“I am absorbing ideas,” he said. “The
work will come later on.”
In the meantime he played polo in the
Ghezireh, shot jackals in the desert, flirted
with the charming tourists in the verandas
of the hotel, and enjoyed himself immensely
in his own fashion. Then one day he re-
ceived a telegram from England announcing
the fact that his mother was seriously ill, and
asking him to return without delay.
“I am sincerely sorry,” said Fensden, po-
litely. Then he added, regretfully: “I sup-
pose our tour must now, like all good things,
come to an end. When do you leave?”
“By to-morrow morning's train,” he an-
swered. “I shall pick up the mail boat at
Ismailia and travel in her to Naples. If all
goes well I shall be in England to-morrow
week. But look here, Victor, when you


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 29
come to think of it there's not the least neces-
sity for you to come, too. It would be no
end of a shame to rob you of your holiday.
Why should you not go on and finish the tour
by yourself? Why not come with me as far
as Port Said, and catch the steamer for Jaffa
there?”
“It’s very good of you, my dear God-
frey,” said Fensden, “but 33
“Let there be no “buts,’” the other re-
turned. “It’s all arranged. When you come
home you shall describe your adventures to
me.”
Needless to say, in the end Fensden
agreed to the proposal, and next day they
accordingly bade each other good-bye on the
promenade deck of the mail steamer that was
to take Henderson as far as Naples. Fens-
den was beginning to realize that it was by no
means unpleasant to have a rich and generous
friend. Poverty was doubtless romantic and
artistic, but a well-filled pocket-book meant
good hotels and the best of wines and living.
While the boat ploughed her way across
the Mediterranean, an idea occurred to God-
frey, and he resolved to act upon it. It was
neither more nor less than to utilize what lit-
tle time was given him in Naples in seeking
3


30 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
out Teresina and assuring himself of her com-
fort in her old home. He had quite con-
vinced himself by this time that any affection
he might once have felt for her was now dead
and buried. For this reason he saw no pos-
sible danger in paying her a visit. “Victor
made more of it,” he argued, “than the cir-
cumstances had really warranted. Had he
not said anything about it, there would have
been no trouble, and in that case Teresina
would still be in London, and sitting to me.”
As soon as the vessel was in harbour, he
collected his luggage and made his way
ashore. A cab conveyed him to an hotel he
had patronized before; and when he was safe-
ly installed there, and realized that he could
not proceed on his journey until the next
morning, he resolved to set out in search
of Teresina. Producing her letter from his
pocket-book he made a note of the address,
and then started upon his errand, to discover
that the signorina Cardi's home took some
little finding. At last, however, he suc-
ceeded, only to be informed by an intelligent
neighbour that the signora was not at home,
while the signorina had gone out some fifteen
minutes before. Considerably disappointed,
he turned to descend the steps to find himself


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 3I
face to face with Teresina herself as he stepped
into the street. She uttered a little exclama-
tion of astonishment and delight at seeing
him.
“How is it that you are here, signor?”
she inquired, when they had greeted each
other. “I did not know that you were in
Naples.”
“I only arrived this afternoon,” he an-
swered. “I am on my way to England.”
“To England?” she said, and then ut-
tered a little sigh as if the very name of that
country conjured up sad memories. “It is
cold and wet in England now; and do you
remember how the studio chimney smoked?”
This apparently irrelevant remark caused
them both to laugh, but their mirth had not
altogether a happy sound.
“I am going to give up the studio,” he
answered. “I expect that for the future I
shall do my work in the country. But you
are not looking well, Teresina!”
“I am quite well,” she answered, hurried-
ly. How was he to know that for many
weeks past she had been eating her heart out
for love of him? If the whole world seemed
dark to her now it was because he, her sun,
no longer shone upon her.


32 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs
“And your mother, the signora, how
wrong of me not to have inquired after her.
I trust she is well?”
“Quite well, signor,” she replied. “She
often talks of you. She is at Sorrento to-
day, but she may be back at any minute.
She would have liked to have seen you, sig-
nor, to have thanked you for your great
goodness to us.” -
“Nonsense,” said Henderson, hurriedly.
“It is the other way round. My thanks are
due to you. Had it not been for your face,
Teresina, my picture would never have been
such a success. Do you know that several
ladies, great ladies in England, said that they
would give anything to be so beautiful? I
don’t think I shall ever do a better piece of
work than that.”
He had just said this when he noticed that
a young man, tall, slim, and very dark, had
approached them unperceived, and was now
glaring angrily at him. Teresina had also
become aware of his presence, and was visibly
affected by it. Whereas only a moment be-
fore she had been all sunshine and delight at
seeing Henderson once more, now she was
quite the reverse.
“Is this man a friend of yours?” Godfrey


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 33
asked, in English. “He seems to be put out
about something.”
“It is only Tomasso Dardini,” she an-
Swered, as if the explanation were sufficient.
“He is quick-tempered, but he means no
harm.”
“Then I wish to goodness he'd go away;
he glares as if he would like to eat me. If I
may hazard a guess, Teresina, I should say
that he is in love with you.”
“He is very foolish,” she answered, and a
flush spread over her face. “Some day, if
he is not very careful, he will get into
trouble.”
“I should not be at all surprised to hear
it,” Godfrey replied.
Then, turning to the man in question, he
signed to him to be off about his business.
For a moment the youth seemed inclined to
refuse, but presently he thought better of it,
and marched off down the street, looking
back now and again as if to see whether the
Englishman and the girl were still conversing
together.
“And now, Teresina, I have a little plan
to propose to you,” said Godfrey, when the
other had turned the corner. “As I told
you just now, I am on my way to England,


34 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS-
and therefore, shall only be able to spend to-
night in Naples. From the announcements
I see they are playing “Faust’ at the Opera-
House. Why should not you and your
mother dine with me, and go there after-
ward? It would be a pleasant way of spend-
ing the evening, and we could talk of old
days.”
Teresina clapped her hands with delight.
In her love of the Opera she was a genuine
Neapolitan.
“It would be lovely,” she cried. “My
mother will come, I feel sure. It is kind of
you, signor.”
It was thereupon arranged that they
should meet at a certain place, dine, and then
go on to the Opera together. Having set-
tled this, Henderson returned to his hotel,
whiled away the time as best he could, and
when the hour arrived, set off to the rendez-
VO11S.
Punctual to the moment he put in an ap-
pearance at the place. It was a restaurant
not unlike that in which he had first met
Teresina and her mother. He could not help
recalling that memorable evening as he
waited on the pavement outside, and his one
wish was that Fensilen could have been there


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 35
to have shared the entertainment with him.
When the signora and her daughter arrived,
it was plain that they regarded the occasion
an important one. They were both attired
in their best, and, so far as colour went, the
signora herself was not unlike a bird of Para-
dise. Teresina was more soberly clad, but
Henderson noticed that a necklace with
which he had once presented her, as a me-
mento of a certain piece of extra work she
had done for him, encipcled her slender throat.
As he looked at it, he thought of the day on
which he had given it to her, and as the re-
membrance occurred to him, he wondered
whether it was wise on his part to play with
fire for a second time. The signora greeted
him with southern volubility, and, as soon as
he could get in a word, Henderson suggested
that they should enter the restaurant. Hav-
ing done so, they seated themselves at one of
the small tables, and he gave his orders. It
was a banquet that was destined to be re-
membered with pleasure by two of the party,
and also by a third, for another and less ro-
mantic reason.
“And so you are returning to England,
signor?” said the signora, when the first
pangs of her hunger had been assuaged.


36 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
Then, remembering the circumstances con-
nected with the latter portion of their stay
in London, she added, pathetically: “I think
if it were possible, I should not be sorry to
return—even though the winter is so cold
and it rains so often.”
“If you feel as if you would like to re-
turn, why do you not do so?” asked God-
frey, with a quickness that caused Teresina
to look up at him in surprise, and then to
look down again with equal celerity. “I am
sure Teresina could get plenty of employ-
ment. I would do all I could to help her.
For my own part, I never could understand
why you left so quickly.”
If he had reflected for a moment, he
would probably have been able to arrive at
an understanding of the reason that had
prompted her departure. He was too mod-
est a man, however, to think of such a thing.
Nevertheless, he changed the conversation by
making inquiries as to their present life in
Naples, and then went on to talk of Fensden,
who at that moment, could they have seen
him, was fast asleep in a railway carriage, on
his way from Jaffa to Jerusalem. The sig-
nora had never been partial to the impres-
sionist artist and poet, and she had a vague


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 37
idea that it was to that gentleman's agency
that they owed the flight of the owner, and
the consequent cessation of Teresina's em-
ployment at the studio. She was too pru-
dent, however, to say anything on that score
to Godfrey. She knew the friendship that ex-
isted between the two men; and she was also
aware that her daughter, who was the pos-
sessor of a quick temper, and a tongue that
she could use when she liked, would brook
no disparagement of either Mr. Henderson
or his friend.
“As to returning to England, we must
think it over,” she said, complacently, when
Godfrey had filled her glass with champagne
for the fourth or fifth time. “It would make
another great change in our affairs, but Tere-
sina is young, and there is nothing for us to
do in Naples. I could wish that she should
marry, signor, but she will not hear of it. I
tell her the time may come when it will be too
late. But girls do not listen to their elders
nowadays.”
Godfrey glanced at Teresina's face to find
that it had suddenly become very pale. He
hastened to render her assistance without de-
lay by twitting her mother as to the number
of sweethearts she herself had had, much to


38 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
that lady's delight. This crisis having been
smoothed over, he paid the bill and they left
the restaurant.
Darkness had fallen by this time, a fact
which may have accounted for the young
man's uncertainty as to whether he did or did
not recognise the figure of a man who was
watching the doorway from the other side
of the street. It certainly looked as if it
belonged to Tomasso Dardini; but he said
nothing on this point to either of his guests.
He would be leaving Naples in the morning,
he argued, and no necessity existed for mak-
ing a fuss about it. If the silly young man
were jealous, the morrow would remove the
cause; and after that it would not matter
very much whether he were aware of their
visit to the Opera or not. With Teresina
beside him and the signora on the other side,
they entered the theatre and took their seats.
The house was crowded, and the Opera itself
was received with that critical appreciation
so characteristic of the Neapolitan theatre-
goer. Whether Godfrey enjoyed it as much
as his neighbours is a question that admits of
some doubt. He certainly found pleasure in
studying the expressions that flitted across
Teresina's face as she watched what went on


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 39
upon the stage; but I scarcely think it went
further. When it was over, he escorted
them back to their dwelling, and bade them
good-bye upon the threshold.
“Good-bye, Teresina,” he said. “It may
not be very long before we meet in Lon-
don. Do you remember the little place
where I first saw you? I think, when I get
back, I must dine there once more, if only for
old association's sake.”
“Good-bye, signor,” she said, giving him
her hand after the English fashion. “It was
kind of you to think of us, and to give us
such pleasure as you have done to-night.”
“I have enjoyed it,” he replied, and then,
bidding her return soon to London, he left
her, and made his way down the narrow,
evil-smelling street toward the quarter in
which his hotel was situated. He was still
fifty yards from the corner when a figure
emerged from a doorway and hurried quick-
ly after him, keeping on the dark side of the
street. Leaving the thoroughfare in which
Teresina's house was located, he employed
a short cut with which he had become
acquainted that afternoon. He had scarcely
entered this, however, before he became
aware of a light footstep behind him. Turn-


40 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
ing quickly, he found a man, whom he imme-
diately recognised, within a few feet of him.
Muttering something in Italian, he raised his
arm, and Godfrey saw that he held a poniard
in his hand. With the quickness of a prac-
tised athlete, he seized the uplifted wrist with
his left hand, while with his right he delivered
a blow that took the would-be assassin be-
neath the chin and sent him sprawling upon
his back in the road. Picking up the dagger
that the other had let fall, he placed it in his
pocket, saying, as he did so: “I will keep this,
my friend, as a memento.” Then, having
made sure that the other had no intention of
following him, he continued his walk, little
dreaming how strangely that incident was to
affect his future life.


CHAPTER III
IF I were given my choice of all the
charming residences in the county of Mid-
landshire, I fancy I should decide in favour
of Detwich Hall. To my thinking it is, in
every respect, an ideal residence. While suf-
ficiently old to have a history (one of the
Charleses spent some days in hiding there), it
has proved itself capable of being adapted to
modern ideas of comfort. The main portion
was built, I believe, toward the close of the
reign of the Virgin Queen; a wing was added
by the owner who occupied it in the time of
the early Georges; while the father of the
man who had bequeathed the property to
Godfrey, was responsible for the stables, and
a somewhat obscure wing on the southern
front. It was admirably situated in the cen-
tre of a park of some three hundred acres,
and was approached by a picturesque drive,
about half a mile long, which ran for some
distance along the banks of an ornamental
4I


42 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
lake. On this lake, by the way, some of the
finest duck shooting in the county is to be
obtained. In his boyhood Godfrey had spent
many happy days there, little dreaming that
Some day it would become his own property.
Indeed, it is quite certain it would not have
done so had his cousin Wilfred not been
killed in India in the performance of a piece
of desperate heroism that will be remembered
as long as a certain native regiment exists.
As for Godfrey, the old man had always liked
the boy, but had been bitterly disappointed
when he had resolved to embark upon an
artistic career instead of playing the part of
a country gentleman, as so many of his an-
cestors had done before him. To have
proved himself a capable Master of Hounds
would have been in the old bachelor's eyes
a greater distinction than to have painted the
finest picture that ever graced the walls of
Burlington House. Yet in his heart he
knew the power of the young man, and hon-
oured him for the dogged persistence with
which he had fought the uphill fight of a
painter's life.
“Well, well, I suppose he'll come out of
it all right in the end,” he was wont to say
to himself when he thought of the matter.


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 43
“He’ll be none the worse for having known
a little poverty. I like the boy and he likes
me, and, please God, he'll do his best by the
dear old place when he comes into it. I
should like to see him in it.”
This, unfortunately, he was not able to
do; but could he have heard the universal
expression of approbation so lavishly be-
stowed upon the young master of Detwich
when he had been six months in possession
he would have felt that his generosity had
been rewarded. Indeed, there could be no
sort of doubt as to Godfrey's popularity. He
was received by the county with open arms,
and by his tenantry with a quiet appreciation
that showed they knew how to value the
blood that ran in his veins without making a
fuss about it. Owing to the short time that
had elapsed since his uncle's death it was
necessarily impossible for him to see very
much society, but those who partook of his
hospitality returned home not only delighted
with their host, but also with the quality of
their entertainment.
“An acquisition, a decided acquisition,”
said old Sir Vivian Devereux, the magnate
of the district. “His idea of game preserva-
tion is excellent, and he is prepared to sup-
-


44 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
port the hunt with the utmost liberality. All
he wants to make him perfect is a wife.”
On hearing this Lady Devereux looked
at her lord and her lord looked at her. Be-
tween them they had a very shrewd idea that
they knew where to look for the future mis-
tress of Detwich Hall. Mistress Margaret,
their daughter, called by her friends Molly,
who had that season made her bow before her
Majesty, said nothing, but maybe that was
because she did not think there was anything
to be said. She had her own ideas on the
subject. She had seen the young squire of
Detwich, though he had not been aware of
the fact, and, being an unaffected, straight-
forward English girl, without prudery or con-
ceit of any sort, had come to the conclusion
that she liked the look of him. Eligible
young men were scarce in the neighbour-
hood, and if she dreamt dreams of her own
who shall blame her? Not I, for one.
Three months had passed since Godfrey
had escorted Teresina and her mother to the
Opera. The summons which had brought
him home so hurriedly had, fortunately,
proved to be a false alarm. Though his
mother had been seriously ill, there had not
been so much danger as they had led him to


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 45
suppose. A month at Torquay had com-
pletely restored her to health, and now she
was back at Detwich once more, as hale and
hearty an old lady as any to be found in the
kingdom. Assisted by her youngest daugh-
ter, Kitty, she welcomed the wanderer home
with every sign of delight.
Godfrey, unlike so many other people,
had the good fortune to be as popular in his
own family circle as he was out of it, and he
and his youngest sister had been on the best
of terms from the days when they had gone
bird's-nesting together, until the time when
she had assisted him in packing his first pic-
ture for the Academy. Since then, however,
she had not seen so much of him.
“Kit’s no end of a brick,” he had been
heard to say, “and the fellow who marries
her may consider himself lucky.”
It was scarcely to be wondered at, there-
fore, if Miss Devereux and Kitty, living as
they did within two miles of each other,
should soon have become intimate. They
were in the habit of seeing each other several
times a week, a fact which Godfrey, from a
distance, had felt somewhat inclined to re-
Sent.
“When I get home I shall find this girl
4


46 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
continually in the house,” he said to himself;
and when he did arrive and the many charm-
ing qualities of her friend had been explained
to him he did not feel any the more disposed
to be cordial.
“I can see what it will be,” he said to his
sister, “I shall not catch a glimpse of you
now.” -
“Perhaps you won't want to when you
meet Molly,” was the arch rejoinder. “You
have no idea what a pretty girl she is. They
say she created a tremendous sensation when
she was presented this year. Folks raved
about her.” -
“The bigger duffers they,” was the un-
compromising reply. “You have one fault,
my dear girl. Ever since I have known you
your swans have invariably turned out to be
geese. I fancy I can realize what Miss Dev-
ereux will be like.”
“In that case pray describe her,” was the
saucy rejoinder, and Miss Kitty made a very
pretty losing hazard (they were playing bil-
liards at the time), after which she failed to
score and chalked her cue.
Now it seems scarcely fair to say so, but
Godfrey, being taken at a disadvantage, fell
back on what can be only considered by all


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs 47
honest people a mean device. In describing
Miss Devereux he used the almost identical
terms used by Fensden when he had at-
tempted to draw a picture of his friend's fu-
ture wife.
“You are quite at sea,” said Miss Kitty,
patting her dainty shoe with the end of her
cue as she spoke. “Some day, if you are not
very careful, I will tell Miss Devereux what
you have said about her. She would never
forgive you the large feet and thick boots.”
“As you are strong be merciful,” said
Godfrey, potting the red into the right-hand
pocket and going into the left himself. “I
don’t mind admitting without prejudice that
I am getting anxious to see this paragon.
When do you think she will next honour you
with her society?”
“On Friday,” Kitty replied. “We have
taken up wood-carving together, and she is
coming to see some patterns I bought in
town last week.”
“In that case we will defer consideration
of her merits and demerits—for I suppose she
has some—until then,” Godfrey replied, and
then once more going into the pocket off the
red he announced the game as standing at
one hundred to ninety-five.


48 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
On the following afternoon he had occa-
sion to drive to the market town. It was a
bright, clear day, with a promise of frost in
the air, and as his dog-cart rolled along the
high road, drawn by a tandem team he had
purchased the previous week, he felt as well
satisfied with himself and his position in the
world as it was possible for a young man
to be. His business transacted in the town
he turned his horses’ heads homeward once
more. The handsome animals, knowing that
they were on their way to their stables,
stepped out bravely, and many an approving
glance was thrown at the good-looking
young squire of Detwich by folk upon the
road. He had completed upward of half his
journey when he became aware that a young
lady, who had appeared from a by-road, was
making her way in the same direction as him-
self.
“Whoever she is she certainly sits her
horse well,” he said to himself, as he watched
her swinging along at a slow canter on the
soft side of the road. “I wonder who she
can be?”
As soon as the turf gave place to hard
metal she pulled her hack up and proceeded
at a walk. This very soon brought Godfrey


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 49
alongside, and as he passed he managed to
steal a glance at a very pretty face and as neat
a figure as he ever remembered to have
Seen.
“I wonder who she can be?” he re-
peated. And as he continued his drive he
meditated on the subject.
On the Friday following he was unex-
pectedly called to town. His solicitors de-
sired an interview with him respecting the
purchase of a farm, and he had no option but
to comply with their request. As luck would
have it, however, he was able to return by a
somewhat earlier train than he expected, and
was just in time to hear from his butler that
afternoon tea had been carried into the draw-
ing-room.
“Are there any visitors?” he inquired.
“Miss Devereux, sir,” said the man;
“she came to lunch.”
“I had forgotten that she was to be here
to-day,” he said to himself as he crossed the
hall in the direction of the drawing-room.
“I wonder what she will be like?”
As every one who has visited Detwich is
aware, the drawing-room is an exceedingly
handsome room. It is long and lofty, if
possible a little too long for cosiness. This


50 THE MYSTERY of THE CLASPED HANDS
fault, if fault it be, is amply atoned for, how-
ever, by a capitally constructed ingle-nook,
in which it was the custom for the ladies to
take afternoon tea. Godfrey strolled across
the floor to this charming contrivance, little
guessing what was in store for him. A lady
was sitting with her back to him holding a
cup of tea in her hand.
“I don't think you have met Miss Dev-
ereux, Godfrey,” said his sister.
“I have not yet had that pleasure,” he
replied. Then to himself he added: “Good
gracious! It's the fair equestrienne.” Then
aloud: “I’ve heard a good deal of you from
Kitty, Miss Devereux.”
“And I of you,” she answered. “You
seem to have been everywhere, and to have
seen everything. Doubtless you find this
part of the world very dull.”
“Not at all,” he answered. “I am ex-
tremely fond of the country, and particularly
of that about here.”
If the truth were told I fancy he had never
thought much about it until that moment.
For the future, however, under a certain
magic influence, he was to view it with very
different eyes.
“In spite of what some people say,” he


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs 51
continued, “I consider English country scen-
ery charming.”
“And yet it must be very beautiful abroad.
Kitty read me one or two of your letters, and
from the description you gave of the various
places you had visited, I gathered that you
thought nothing could be so beautiful on
earth.”
“No doubt they are very beautiful,” he
answered. “But for my part give me the
old-world peace of England. There is cer-
tainly nothing like that to be found else-
where. I would rather stand on the hill yon-
der and look down the valley in summer-time,
than gaze upon the Rhine at Heidelberg, or
Naples harbour at daybreak, or visit ancient
Philae by moonlight.”
What further heresies this young man
would have pledged himself to in his enthu-
siasm I can not say. Fortunately for him,
however, the vicar and his wife were an-
nounced at that moment, and a distraction was
thus caused. Until that moment Miss Kitty
had been regarding him with steadfast eyes.
Clever beyond all other men, as she consid-
ered her brother, she had never seen him
come out of his shell like this before. Hither-
to he had been rather given to pooh-poohing


52 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
the country, and had once been known even
to assert that “ London and Paris were the
only two places in which it was possible for a
civilized man to live.” What was the reason
of this sudden change?
The vicar was a tall man with a pompous
air, who looked forward some day to being a
bishop, and had already assumed the appear-
ance and manners of one. His wife, on the
other hand, was small, and of a somewhat
peevish disposition. It was currently re-
ported that the husband and wife spent the
greater portion of their time in squabbling,
while it was certain that they contradicted
each other in public with an openness and fre-
quency that at times was apt to be a little em-
barrassing.
“Possibly I may have been wrong,” said
the vicar, when he had seated himself and had
taken a cup of tea from his hostess's hands,
“but did I not hear you extolling the beauties
of a country life as I entered the room, Mr.
Henderson?”
He put the question as if it were one of
world-wide importance, which, answered care-
lessly, might involve great international com-
plications. Then, without waiting for an an-
swer, he continued: “For my part, while ad-


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 53
mitting that a country life is possessed of
many charms, with which the Metropolis can
not compare, I must go on to say that there is
a breadth, if I may so express it, in London
life that is quite lacking outside.”
His wife saw her opportunity, and, as
was her habit, was quick to take advantage
of it.
“You have never had any experience of
London life, William, so how can you possibly
tell?” she said, sharply.
“My dear, I venture to say that it is a
generally admitted fact,” her husband replied.
“Generally admitted facts are as often as
not rubbish,” retorted the lady with some as-
perity. “What I say is, let a man do his duty
wherever he is, and make the best of what
he's got, without grumbling.”
There was an unmistakable innuendo in
this speech, and for a moment an awkward si-
lence ensued.
“I hear you have built a new conserva-
tory, Mr. Henderson?” said Miss Devereux,
as if to change the subject.
“It is just completed,” said Godfrey.
“Would you care to see it?”
A general desire to inspect this new won-
der having been expressed, Godfrey led the


54 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
way from the room, contriving, when all had
passed out, to take up his position beside their
youngest visitor.
“Will you take pity upon a stranger in
the land?” he said, “and give me some in-
formation?”
“What can I tell you?” she asked.
He glanced at the vicar and his wife, who
were some little distance in front. *
“Do they always squabble like this?” he
inquired.
“Yes, invariably,” she replied. “We are
used to it, but strangers are apt to find it
embarrassing. I really believe the habit of
squabbling has grown upon them until they
have become so accustomed to it that they do
not notice it. By the way, Mr. Henderson,
there is one question of vital importance I
must decide with you. Are you going to
hunt?”
As a matter of fact Godfrey had made up
his mind to do so occasionally, but now, re-
membering that Miss Devereux possessed the
reputation of a second Diana, he spoke as if it
were the hunting that had mainly induced him
to live in Midlandshire. He registered a vow
that he would purchase a stud immediately,
and that he would look upon missing a run


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 55
as a sin that could only be expurgated by re-
ligiously attending the next.
By this time they had reached the new
conservatory, which adjoined the studio God-
frey had built for himself. It was a handsome
building, and gave a distinction to that side of
the house which it certainly had lacked before.
“Admirable, admirable,” said the vicar,
complacently. “It reminds me of the palm-
house at Kew.”
“It is twenty years since you were at Kew,
William; how can you possibly remember
what the palm-house is like?” retorted his
wife. -
“My dear, I have always been noted for
the excellence of my memory,” the vicar re-
plied. “I assure you I have the most vivid
recollection of the house in question.”
“You mislaid your spectacles this morn-
ing, and if I hadn't seen you put them in your
pocket you would never have thought of look-
ing for them there,” said his wife, to whom
this fact appeared to be relative to the matter
at issue.
From the conservatory to the studio was a
natural transition, and the latest work upon
the easel was duly inspected and admired.
“I remember your picture in the Acade-


56 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
my last year, Mr. Henderson,” said Miss Dev-
ereux. “I can assure you that it brought the
tears into my eyes.”
“It is very kind of you to say so,” he said,
feeling that no compliment that had ever been
paid him was so much worth having.
Then a luminous idea occurred to him.
“I wonder if, some day, you would let me
paint you a little picture?” he asked, almost
timidly.
“I really could not think of such a thing,”
his companion replied. “Your time is too
valuable to be wasted in that way.”
“I shall paint one, nevertheless,” he re-
plied. “In return, perhaps, you will instruct
me in the ways of the Midlandshire hunt?”
“I shall be delighted,” she answered.
“You must make Kitty come too.”
Godfrey promised to do so, but for once
in his life he was ungallant enough to think
that he could dispense with his sister's socie-
ty. Presently Miss Devereux's cart was an-
nounced and Kitty and Godfrey accompanied
her to the front door. She kissed Kitty and
then held out her hand to Godfrey.
“Good-bye, Mr. Henderson,” she said.
“Remember that the hounds meet at Spink-
ley Grove on Thursday, at eleven o’clock,


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 57
when you will be permitted an opportunity of
making the acquaintance of the Master and
the Hunt.”
“I shall be there without fail,” he an-
swered, as he helped her into the cart and ar-
ranged her rug for her. She thereupon nod-
ded to the groom, who left the ponies' heads
and jumped on to the step behind as the cart
passed him, with an adroitness that was the
outcome of long practice. A moment later
the vehicle had turned the corner of the drive
and was lost to view.
“Well?” said Kitty as they turned to
go in.
“Well,” Godfrey replied.
“You like her?”
“Very much indeed,” he answered, and
as they passed down the hall together he made
an important decision to himself. “Provided
she will have me,” he said, “I think I have
found my wife.”


CHAPTER IV
MoRE than a month had elapsed since
Godfrey had made his début as a recognised
member of the Midlandshire Hunt. It is also
necessary to state that during that period he
had seen a good deal of pretty Miss Molly
Devereux, who, faithful to the promise she
had given him, had shown him a large amount
of the country, with the fences, hedges, and
ditches thereof. She was also the person who
was mainly responsible for the large sum of
money he had spent on horseflesh during that
time. As a matter of fact, this impressionable
young man was head over ears in love, and
to prove it, he neglected his work, imperilled
his neck, and, as his mother remarked, ran an
almost daily risk of coming to an early grave
through waiting about on the outskirts of
damp coverts, to say nothing of the long, wet
rides home on wintry evenings.
“I can not understand why you do it,”
said the old lady, who, by the way, was not
58


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 59
nearly so obtuse as she pretended to be.
“When you first came home from abroad,
you declared that the hunting would never
possess sufficient attraction to take you out
on a damp day. Now you are never happy
unless you are in the saddle.”
“It’s a good healthy exercise, mother,”
said Kitty, with the suspicion of a twinkle in
her eyes. “Besides, Godfrey has taken such
a liking to Sir George Penistone, the Master,
that he is never happy when he is parted from
him.”
Now if there was one person in the coun-
try for whom Godfrey entertained a profound
distaste, it was for the gentleman in question.
Sir George was known to have been desper-
ately in love with Miss Devereux ever since
he had left the 'Varsity; but, while he was
plucky enough in the saddle, and would ride
his horse at anything that an animal could be
expected to jump, and at a good many that it
could not, he had never been able to screw up
his courage sufficiently to broach the subject
to her. Finding that he had a rival in the
field, however, had given him a fillip, and, in
consequence, relations between the two young
men were as strained as it was possible for
them to be, and yet to allow them to remain


60 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
on speaking terms. Whether the young lady
herself was aware of this is more than I can
Say; if she were she gave no sign of it, but
treated them both with the same impartiality.
Certain other ladies of the hunt vowed that
she was a heartless flirt, and that she was play-
ing one man off against the other. Such un-
charitable sentiments, however, could only be
expected from people who would have acted
in the same fashion had they been placed in a
similar position.
It has been said by a well-known writer,
who, for all we know to the contrary, was a
crusty old bachelor, and therefore well quali-
fied to speak upon the matter, “that the very
uncertainty of love is one of its greatest
charms.” I fancy that Godfrey Henderson,
at that particular time, would not have agreed
with the sage in question. The uncertainty
of knowing whether he was loved or not, was
making a different man of him. In days that
seemed as far removed from the present as if
a gulf of centuries lay between, he had been a
happy-go-lucky, easy-going fellow, taking the
world as he found it, and never allowing him-
self to be much troubled by anything. Now,
however, he had grown preternaturally sol-
emn, was much given to silent communings


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 61
with himself, and only brightened up when he
was in the presence of the person who was
the object of his adoration. Naturally this
could not continue for long.
“I’ll speak to her the very first opportu-
nity I get,” he said to himself; “and if she
won't have me, I’ll cut the whole show and go
abroad. I could pick up Fensden in Dresden,
and we'll go off to Japan together.”
But when he was given a favourable op-
portunity of speaking, he found he was unable
to bring his courage to the sticking-point, and
for the next day or two he called himself by a
variety of names that, had they been addressed
to him by any one else, he would have consid-
eréd most objectionable. Regarded dispas-
sionately, in the silent watches of the night,
it seemed a small thing to do. He had only
to get her alone, to take her hand, if he could
manage to obtain possession of it, and then
to make his passion known, and ask her to be
his wife. Any one could do that, and he had
the best of reasons, when he looked round the
circle of his married acquaintances, for know-
ing that it had been carried out successfully
on numerous occasions before. Yet when
it became necessary to put it into practice
he discovered that it demanded a heroism
5


62 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
to which the charge of the Light Brigade
and the storming of the Redan were as
nothing.
“I see that the hounds meet at Churley
cross roads on Monday,” said his sister, one
morning at breakfast. “Molly wants me to
go, but I fear it will be impossible. I sup-
pose it is not necessary to ask if you will be
there?” -
“I suppose I shall,” Godfrey replied, as
if he had not thought very much about the
Inatter.
In his heart, however, he knew that it
would require an extraordinary force to keep
him away. On Friday he did not go, for the
reason that he had incidentally learned that a
certain lady would be in town at her dress-
maker's. The same day he discovered that
his old friend and schoolfellow, James Brad-
ford, to wit, had returned from America, en
route to the Continent, and the inference was
that if they did not lunch together, they would
be scarcely likely to meet again for some con-
siderable time. What, therefore, was more
fitting than that he should catch the Io.18
train at Detwich, and set off for the Metrop-
olis? His mother and sister said nothing, ex-
cept to wish him a pleasant journey. When


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 65
he were more than surprised at seeing them,
he lifted his hat.
“How do you do, Lady Devereux?” he
said. “This is an altogether unexpected
meeting!” Then, having saluted the younger
lady, he inquired whether they would permit
him to travel down with them.
“Do so, by all means,” Lady Devereux
replied. “Molly and I have been obliged to
put up with each other's company since the
early morning. But how is it that you are
not hunting to-day, Mr. Henderson?”
“An old friend has just returned from
America,” Godfrey remarked, “and he invited
me to lunch with him. Otherwise I should
have been out, of course.”
Whether Miss Molly believed this state-
ment or not I can not say, but I do not think
it probable. One thing was plain; on this
particular occasion she had made up her mind
not to be gracious to the poor young man,
and when he endeavoured to draw her into
conversation, she answered him shortly, and
then retired into the seclusion of her news-
paper.
Why she should have treated him so it is
impossible to say, but there could be no sort
of doubt that she was offended at something.


66 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
In consequence the poor fellow was about as
miserable a specimen of the human race as
could have been found in England that day.
When Detwich was reached, he saw the two
ladies to their carriage, and bade them good-
bye. Then, mounting to the box of his own
dog-cart, he sent the horse flying down the
street at a pace that, had he not been well
known, would in all probability have secured
him an interview with a magistrate.
“And what sort of journey did you
have?” inquired his mother, as she gave him
a cup of tea on his arrival at the house.
“Very pleasant,” he answered, though his
looks belied his assertion.
“And would you care, as you said the
other day, to go back to live in London?”
asked mischievous Miss Kitty.
“I think London is one of the most de-
testable places on earth,” he replied, stirring
his tea as though he were sweeping the Me-
tropolis into the sea.
“And did you see any one you knew while
you were in town?” inquired his mother.
“A lot of people I don't care a scrap
about,” he answered.
Feeling that he was not in a fit humour for
society, he took himself off to his studio,


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 67
•ſ.
where he threw himself into an easy chair, and
lit the largest pipe in his possession. This he
smoked as savagely as if it were responsible
for his troubles. By the time the dressing-
bell rang, he was more than ever determined
to set off for Japan. So strong, however, was
the chain which bound him, that, on second
thoughts, he came to the conclusion that he
would postpone his departure until after the
meet at the Churley cross roads on the fol-
lowing Monday. In consequence he spent a
miserable Saturday, and it was not until he
came out of church on Sunday morning that
he was anything like his old self. All through
the service he had been paying a greater
amount of attention to a neat little togue, and
the back of a very shapely head, a few seats in
front of him, than was altogether proper in a
place of worship. According to custom, the
two families united in the porch.
“Good-morning, Mr. Henderson,” said
Molly, as they shook hands, and then, after
they had passed outside and the usual com-
monplaces had been exchanged, she contin-
ued: “What do you think of the state of the
weather?”
There was more in her speech than met
the eye. What she really meant was: “Do
zºwº rºops,
ſ SW J F º
M. E. W. A.
y * () tº K
Sº


68 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
you think we shall be able to hunt to-morrow?
If so, I am prepared to be kind to you once
more.”
Godfrey replied that there had been signs
of frost early in the morning, but he rejoiced
to see that they were going off.
“We shall see you to-morrow, I sup-
pose?” she said, as they passed through the
lych-gate out into the high road.
“Of course,” he answered. “Provided
old Benbow doesn't break his neck in the
meantime, I shall be there.”
“I am so glad,” she answered, and then,
as though she felt that she had said too much,
she devoted her conversation during the rest
of the walk to Kitty, leaving Godfrey to dis-
cuss parish affairs with her father.
She had said enough, however, in that
short time to transport Godfrey into the
seventh heaven of delight; and I venture to
think that if any one had been foolish enough
to suggest a trip to Japan to him at that mo-
ment, it would have been at the peril of his or
her life.
I must leave you to imagine with what
attention he studied the appearance of the sky
during the next eighteen hours. The barom-
eter in the hall was tapped with a regularity


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 69
that was sufficient to disorganize its internal
economy forever and a day. Before he re-
tired to rest, he took careful stock of the
heavens, and was relieved to find that there
was no sign of frost in the air. Next morn-
ing he was up betimes, took his tub with the
air of a man from whom great things are ex-
pected, and made a heartier breakfast than he
had done for some weeks past. He looked a
handsome figure in pink as his mother was
careful to inform him.
The distance to Churley cross roads from
the Hall is little more than a mile, so that
the half-hour he had allowed himself to get
there, enabled him to jog along without hur-
rying his horse. It was what might be de-
scribed as a perfect hunting morning. A
slight mist hung in places upon the fields; it
was, however, being quickly dispersed by the
sunshine. A pleasant breeze was driving the
clouds across the sky, throwing delightful
shadows upon the meadows, and crisping the
surface of the river as he passed over the old
stone bridge. When he reached the cross
roads he had still some ten minutes in hand;
but as there were several others as early as
himself, this fact did not weigh heavily upon
his mind. Meanwhile he kept a sharp eye on


70 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
the road down which he had come, and when
he espied the stout figure of the old baronet
on his famous hunter, with his daughter be-
side him, mounted on a somewhat vicious-
looking chestnut, he rode forward to receive
them.
“A capital day,” said the old gentleman,
when they had exchanged the usual saluta-
tions. “We could scarcely have a better.
Strangely enough, as I was saying to Molly
just now, in fifty years I’ve never known a
wet Churley Cross Meet.”
“What do you think of my new horse,
Mr. Henderson?” inquired his daughter, when
the latter had remarked upon the strange-
ness of the coincidence. “Papa bought him
for me on Saturday.”
“He must be very nearly thoroughbred,”
Godfrey replied, not caring to add that he did
not altogether like the look of the animal in
question. There was a nasty flicker in the
horse's eyes, of which, to Godfrey's thinking,
he showed a great deal too much white.
There could be no denying his make and
shape, however, “You’ll be showing us a
clean pair of heels to-day.”
“I’ll be bound she will,” said the old
baronet, upon whom the horse had evidently
>


THE MystERy of THE CLASPED HANDs 71
made a favourable impression. “ They tell
me he won a decent steeplechase last sea-
son; and Seth Warton, of whom I got him,
says he is the best he has had in his stable
for many a long day. That says some-
thing.”
“I sincerely hope he may prove to be all
you could wish,” said Godfrey; and at that
moment the Master came forward to bid them
good-morning.
“I think we'll try the Spinney first, Sir
Vivian,” he said. “I hear good reports in
that direction. A new horse, Miss Devereux,
and I should say a fast one. Have pity on
us all!”
As if to prove that his manners were not
So good as his looks, the animal in question
made as if he would rear, and for a moment
Godfrey's heart seemed to stand still.
“I don’t like the look of him,” he said to
himself. “Heaven send he does her no mis-
chief.”
But he was not permitted much time to
think of such a thing, for the Master had
given the signal, and already a general move
was being made in the direction of the Spin-
ney. Godfrey settled himself down by Miss
Devereux's side, leaving the old gentleman


72 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
free to discuss the prospects of the day with
the local doctor, a sportsman of some celebrity
in the neighbourhood.
“Miss Devereux,” said Godfrey, as they
approached the wood, “at the risk of offend-
ing you, I must say that I don't altogether
care about the look of that horse. I should
say, from his appearance, handsome as it is,
that he possesses more than a touch of tem-
per. I do hope you will be careful what you
do with him to-day.”
“You needn’t be afraid,” she answered, as
she flashed a sharp glance at him. “I think
we understand each other perfectly. He
hasn’t been with hounds for some time, and
he's naturally a little excited. It will wear
off, however, before the day is done.”
“I sincerely hope it may,” Godfrey con-
tinued. “In the meantime I can not help
wishing that we could exchange mounts.”
“You think that you could manage him
better than I?” she said. “If that is a chal-
lenge we will see. Now, let us watch what
goes on, for I want to be well away.”
At that moment three blasts of the horn
were heard from the right, and, before God-
frey could have counted twenty, the hounds
were out of cover and streaming away in the


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 73
direction of the village—only to change their
course after the first quarter of a mile.
“It looks as if we were in for a fast thing,”
said Miss Devereux; and the words had
scarcely left her lips when the chestnut gave
a violent plunge in the air and was off at a
racing pace.
“If he goes on like that, the brute will
pull her arms out, if he doesn't do anything
worse,” Godfrey muttered to himself.
But so far the girl had got him well in
hand. Sitting back in the saddle, she let him
have his head, taking a gradual pull at him
as they neared the first hedge. Whatever his
other faults may have been, he was certainly a
jumper, for he cleared the obstacle in unmis-
takable style. As she had said a few moments
before, there could be no doubt that they
were in for a fast thing. The hounds were
racing as if their one desire was to run Master
Reynard to earth before he could get into the
next field. Godfrey's own horse, to use a
phrase that his mother could never under-
stand, “was going strong,” but he could not
live in the same county with the chestnut. In
spite of Miss Devereux's undoubted skill in
the saddle, the horse was gradually becoming
the master. At the third fence, an ugly-look-


74 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
ing post and rail, with a bad approach, he took
off too soon, giving his rider the chance of an
extremely nasty fall. She saved the situation,
however, by a miracle. They had reached the
top of the hill, and were descending into the
valley on the other side, when Godfrey, whose
horse was doing its best, realized that some-
thing very serious was the matter ahead. The
chestnut had undeniably got out of hand, and,
scared by some sheep, was edging toward
the left.
“It is just what I expected,” he said to
himself as he rode along some half-a-dozen
lengths behind the other. “She is losing
control over him. I must follow at all costs.”
Digging his spurs into the horse's side, he
endeavoured to race up to the animal in front
of him. He was too late, however. The
chestnut had got the bit in his teeth, and,
swerving to the left, was galloping in the di-
rection of a small wood. Observing this,
Godfrey turned his horse's head and made
after him. Fortunately, the paddock over
which they were galloping was a large one;
but the chestnut was going at such a pace
that he very soon crossed it. Skirting the
wood, he began to descend the hill on the
other side. Then he disappeared altogether


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 75
from view. When Godfrey reached the top
of the rise, he scarcely dared to look about
him; but when he did so, he saw that the
horse had altered his original course, and was
making his way again across the angle, as if
he desired to reach the line the hounds were
still following. In a flash Godfrey realized
the situation and took in the fact that the ani-
mal was unconsciously making direct for a
large chalk pit, and that unless something
were done at once to prevent him, nothing
could save both horse and rider from a terrible
death.
“God help me to save her!” he cried.
“God help me to save her!”


CHAPTER V
For a moment after he realized the true
state of affairs Godfrey was spellbound with
terror. Was it just possible that he would be
able to head the horse off from the pit? If he
could not, then it would be the end of all
things as far as Miss Devereux was concerned.
With the cold sweat of terror on his brow he
watched the girl he loved racing down the
slope on the maddened horse. He saw that
she was making a brave fight to bring him to
a standstill; but even at that distance he could
tell that her effort was in vain. A moment
later the animal had once more changed his
course and had dashed toward a hedge. He
scarcely rose at it; as a natural consequence
he struck it, toppled over, and then both
horse and rider disappeared together. Fear-
ful at what he might find, Godfrey galloped
toward the spot, jumped the gate that sepa-
rated it from the neighbouring field, and
looked about him for what he should see.
76


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 77
The horse was lying stretched out upon the
ground, and one glance was sufficient to show
him that its neck was broken. In the dry
ditch below the hedge he could catch a
glimpse of a black figure. He sprang from
his horse and approached it. Lifting her
head he supported her in his arms, and as he
did so a little sigh escaped from her lips.
“God be thanked, she is still alive!” he
muttered to himself, and then he replaced her
head upon the bank.
Taking off his coat he made it into a ball.
He placed it beneath her head, and then set
off in search of water. When he had pro-
cured a little in his hat he returned and bathed
her forehead and temples with it. After a
while she opened her eyes and looked up
at him.
“I feel better now,” she answered, in reply
to his inquiries. “Where is the horse?”
“Close beside you,” he said, and then go-
ing to his own animal he took his flask from
the holster and filled the little cup with sherry.
“Drink this,” he said. “It will do you
good.” -
The wine revived her, and in a few min-
utes she was so far recovered as to be able to
sit up and discuss matters with him.
6


78 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
“I am quite well now,” she said. “But
how am I to get home? Poor papal What
a state he will be in when he hears! Since my
horse is dead I suppose I must try to walk.”
“You will do nothing of the kind,” God-
frey replied, firmly. “I will lift you into the
saddle and you must try and ride my horse.
If we can find a village near here, you can
remain there until a carriage is sent from the
Court to fetch you.”
“As I have proved myself incompetent I
suppose I must obey you,” she answered, with
a touch of her old spirit. “But what is to be
done with my own poor beast?”
“I will arrange about him when I have
attended to your comfort,” he said, and then
assisted her to rise and lifted her into the sad-
dle. For the first hundred yards or so they
walked almost in silence. She was the first
to speak.
“Mr. Henderson,” she said, looking down
at him, “I owe you an apology. I was rude to
you the other day, and I laughed at you when
you told me this morning that you did not
like my new horse. Events have proved that
you were right. Will you forgive me?”
“I have nothing to forgive,” he answered;
“but you can have no idea how nervous I


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 79
was this morning when I saw how that brute
behaved.”
“Why should you have bothered yourself
about me?” she asked, not, however, with
quite her usual confidence.
Here was the very opportunity he had
been looking for so long. He felt that he
must take possession of it at once.
“Because I love you,” he answered.
“You must have known that I have been in
love with you ever since I first saw you,
Molly. Don't you believe me?”
“Yes, I know it,” she replied, looking at
him with the love-light shining in her own
eyes.
“And your answer, Molly? What can
you say to me?”
“Only that I love you too,” she mur-
mured.
I do not know what my spinster readers
will think, but the fact remains that the pad-
dock they were crossing was a large one, some
twenty acres in extent. It was almost in the
centre of this open space that he proposed to
her, and she, brazen creature, at his sugges-
tion, I will admit, stooped from her saddle and
permitted him to kiss her where all the world
might see.


80 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
It was between three and four o’clock that
afternoon when Godfrey reached home. He
had waited at the little village inn until the
carriage, which he had sent for to convey her
home, arrived from the Court. Then, when
he had promised to ride over in the morning
in order to interview her father, he watched
her drive off and had afterward departed him-
self to his own abode.
“Well, Godfrey, and what sort of a
day have you had?” asked Miss Kitty, as
they stood in the drawing-room before
the fire.
“Splendid,” he answered. “I was aw-
fully cut up at one time, but on the whole it
has been one of the best days in my life.”
“You seem to have enjoyed it. Where
did you find?”
“At Churley Spinney,” he answered.
“And you killed at 2 ”
“I’m sure I don't know,” was the reply.
“How long did you run?”
“I don’t know that either.”
“You don't seem to have been very ob-
servant. What do you know?” -
“I only know that I am engaged to Molly
Devereux. For the present that seems to me
to be quite sufficient.”


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 81
In a moment her arms were round his
neck.
“You dear boy, I can not tell you how
thankful I am.”
Nor was Mrs. Henderson's pleasure the
less sincere.
To say that Godfrey Henderson was a
happy man after his acceptance by Miss Molly
would be too mild an expression altogether.
It is my opinion that for the next few days
he could not have been said to be properly
responsible for his actions. He behaved like
an amiable lunatic, spent the greater part of
his time, when he was not with his fiancée,
planning alterations to a house which was
already perfect, and vowed many times a day
that he was not nearly good enough for one
so angelic. Every one, with the exception of
Sir George Penistone, perhaps, was delighted
with the match. The worthy old baronet .
gave his consent immediately almost before
it was asked in point of fact, and vowed that
the two properties would run splendidly to-
gether. A county dinner was given to cele-
brate the engagement. There were folks
who prophesied that the wedding festivities
would be on a scale seldom witnessed even by
Midlandshire, which as all the world knows,


82 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
or should know, is the most hospitable county
in the three kingdoms. The engagement was
to be a very short one, and the happy couple
were to leave directly after the marriage cere-
mony for the South of France.
“You are quite sure that you are not anx-
ious to change your mind?” said Molly to
her lover one evening, when they were riding
home from hunting. “Remember, there is
still time.”
“If it were not so light, and I had not the
best of reasons for knowing that old Farmer
Giles is behind us, and has his eyes glued
upon our backs, I would find a means of mak-
ing you repent of that speech.” Then he add-
ed more seriously: “Darling, whatever may
happen in the future, whatever troubles may
be in store for us, you will always believe that
I love you, will you not?”
“Always,” she answered. “Happen what
may, I shall never doubt that. But what
makes you suddenly so solemn?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “Somebody
walking over my grave, I suppose.”
She gave a little cry of pain.
“For pity's sake don't talk like that!”
she cried. “You have no idea how it
hurts me.”


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 83
“In that case I will never do so again,” he
said. “Forgive me and forget that I said it,
dear.” Then to change the conversation, he
added: “I expect this will be our last day's .
hunting together before we are married. We
shall both be too busy to be able to spare the
time.”
“I have no idea how I am going to get
through all I have to do,” she said. “I shall
practically live in shops for the next month,
and I do detest shopping. Mamma, on the
other hand, seems to revel in it. I fancy she
would like to have a wedding to arrange every
month in the year. By the way, Godfrey,
have you decided who is going to be your best
man?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Victor Fensden.
He is my oldest friend, and I heard from him
only this morning that he will be delighted to
officiate in that capacity. He is in Paris just
now, but returns to England at the end of the
week, when I have invited him to come down
here for a few days. I hope you will like
him.”
“I am certain to like any friend of yours,”
she replied. “I shall be very interested in
Mr. Fensden. I came across a volume of his
poems the other day. It was very strangely


84 THE MYSTERY of THE CLASPED HANDs
bound and illustrated in an extraordinary
manner by himself.”
“That's his own idea. And did you like
the poetry?”
“Well, if I must be candid, and I’m sure
you won't mind, I must confess that I did not
understand much of it. It seems so confused.
Not a bit like Tennyson, or Keats, or Shel-
ley.”
“I quite agree with you,” said Godfrey.
“Fensden is very clever, too clever for me, I’m
afraid. One or two literary people rave about
his work, I know, but for my part I like less
words and a little more human nature. Give
me ‘Gunga Din,’ or the ‘Charge of the Light
Brigade,’ for my money, and anybody else
can have all the nymphs and satyrs, and odes
to Bacchus and Pan that were ever crammed
into the realms of poetry.”
Loath as I am to say it, such was the infat-
uation of this girl that she positively agreed
with him. Fate, with that characteristic kind-
ness for which it is celebrated, had been good
enough to endow them with minds of similar
calibre, which, of course, was very desirable,
and just as it should be.
On the Wednesday morning following the
conversation I have just described Molly and


THE MystERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs 85
her mother departed for London, where the
former was to be handed over to the tender
care of Madame Delamaine and her assistants.
They were to be away for three days, return-
ing home on the Friday evening, and, as a
little compensation for their absence, it was
agreed that Godfrey should meet them in
town on the Thursday and take them to a
theatre.
Accordingly the morning train conveyed
him to the Metropolis. He had the pleasure
of the vicar's society on the way up, and the
latter, not being restrained by his wife, was
able to give him his opinion on matters in
general and the immediate stress on politics in
particular. In consequence, as Godfrey ad-
mitted afterward, he spent two such hours of
boredom as he hopes never to experience
again. On his arrival in London he drove to
his tailors and ordered his wedding garments,
going on afterward to a well-known firm of
jewellers in Regent Street, from whom he
bought a wedding-ring with as much care as
he would have given to the purchase of Crown
jewels, and a diamond necklace with little
more concern than if it had been a pair of
gloves. From Regent Street he drove to his
club for luncheon. He was late, but that did


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs 87
been able to take, this was scarcely a grateful
speech, but the latter did not comment on it.
He was too happy himself and too glad to see
his friend once more to take offence. He no-
ticed that in his dress Victor was even more
artistic than before. His hair was a shade
longer, his tie a trifle larger (he wore it tied
in a bow with ends flying loose), and the gen-
eral tone of his costume a little more pro-
nounced.
“And the future Mrs. Henderson?” he
said, airily. “How is she? As you may sup-
pose, I am all anxiety to make her acquaint-
ance.”
“You will do so on Saturday,” Godfrey
replied, “for I presume you are coming down
to me then?”
“I shall be delighted,” said Fensden.
“An English country house will be soothing
after the caravansaries I have been domiciled
in lately. I never knew how much I detested
my brother Briton until I met him in a for-
eign hotel.”
The sneer on his face as he said this was
not pretty to watch.
“And now that you are at home once
more, I presume you will resume your old
habit of searching the slums for foreign eating


88 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
houses?” said Godfrey, with a laugh. “Do
you remember how and where we met Tere-
sina?”
“Perfectly,” Victor replied shortly, and
then changed the conversation by inquiring
how long Godfrey intended remaining in
to Wn.
“I go back to-morrow morning,” was the
other's reply. “And now that I come to
think of it, why shouldn't you come down with
me? It would be just the thing for you. We
shall be very pleased to see you if you care to
come.”
“Impossible,” the other answered. “I
have such a lot to do. I could not possibly
manage it before Saturday.”
“Let it be Saturday then,” said Godfrey,
with an imperturbable good humour that con-
trasted very strongly with the other's peevish-
ness. “There's a first-rate train which gets
you down in time for afternoon tea. I'll meet
you at the station.”
When Godfrey had finished his lunch he
paid a visit to his saddler and his bootmaker,
and then to fill in the time, inspected the
stables of a well-known horse-dealer. He
would have liked to go round to Eaton
Square where Molly and her mother were


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 89
staying with an old maiden aunt, but he
thought better of it, and contented himself by
strolling down Bond Street on the off-chance
that he might meet them. He was not suc-
cessful, however, so he returned to his hotel
to dress and dine.
At ten minutes to eight he was to be seen
standing in the vestibule of the Lyceum, wait-
ing for the ladies to put in an appearance.
When their carriage drove up he hastened for-
ward to greet them, and conducted them
forthwith to the box he had engaged. Noth-
ing that could tend to their comfort had been
omitted by this extravagant young man, and
he found his reward in the tender little squeeze
Molly gave his hand when he removed her
cloak. During the evening he did not con-
cern himself very much with the play; he
watched his future wife's pretty face and the
expressions that played upon it. As soon as
they were married he was determined to paint
a life-size portrait of her, which he prophesied
to himself would be the best piece of work he
had ever accomplished. But even the hap-
piest evenings must come to an end, and this
particular one was no exception to the rule.
When the curtain fell on the last act, he re-
cloaked his two charges, and escorted them


90 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
downstairs once more. Then, bidding them
wait in the vestibule, he himself went out in
search of their carriage. When he had placed
them in it, he bade them good-night, and
came very near being knocked over by a han-
som as he watched them disappear in the
traffic.
The night was bitterly cold, and snow was
falling. Reflecting that it would be wiser not
to stand still, he turned up the collar of his
coat, and wondered what he should do next.
Should he go back to his hotel and to bed, or
should he stroll on to his club and see who
was there? He eventually decided in favour
of the hotel, and accordingly set off along the
Strand in the hope that he might presently be
able to pick up a cab.
He had reached Exeter Hall, when, with a
cry of astonishment, he found himself stand-
ing face to face with the one person of all
others he had least expected to see in Eng-
land. It was Teresina!
“Teresina!” he ejaculated, in surprise.
“What on earth does this mean? How long
have you been in England?”
“Nearly a month,” she answered, looking
away as if she desired to avoid his eyes.
“And why did you not let me know that


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 9I
you were coming?” he asked, reproachfully.
“You must surely remember that you prom-
ised to do so?”
“I did not like to trouble you,” she replied,
still in the same curiously hard voice. “You
were not in London, and I thought you would
be too busy to have time to spare for me.”
“You know that is not true,” he answered.
“I should be a mean brute if I did not find
time to look after my friends. Where are you
living? In the old house?”
She paused for a moment before she re-
plied. He noticed her embarrassment, but
did not put the right construction upon it.
“Near the Tottenham Court Road,” she
said at last. “I don’t think you would know
the street if I told you.”
“And your mother, how is she?”
He saw the look of pain which spread over
her face, and noticed that her eyes filled with
tears.
“My mother is dead!” she answered,
very quietly. “She died in Naples two
months ago.”
“And you are alone in the world? My
poor child! This will never do. You must
let me help you if I can.”
“No, no!” she cried, this time almost


92 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
fiercely. “I do not require any help. I can
support myself quite well.”
“I shall have to be convinced of that be-
fore I let you go,” he answered. “London is
not the sort of place for a young girl to be
alone in, particularly when one is a foreigner
and poor.”
“You were always kind to me,” she re-
plied, “but I can not let you do more. Be-
sides you are going to be married. Is that
not so?”
“It is quite true,” he answered; “but
how did you hear of it?”
She looked confused for a moment.
“I can not tell you,” she replied. “Per-
haps I saw it in the newspapers. You are
famous, and they write about you. Now I
must be getting home.”
An empty cab happened to pass at that
moment, and Godfrey hailed it.
“Get in,” he said, when the vehicle had
drawn up beside the pavement. “I am going
to see you home. This is not the hour for
you to be alone in the streets.”
“No, no,” she protested, even more vehe-
mently than before. “I can not let you do
this. I can walk quite well. It is not far,
and I have often done it.” -


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 93
“Teresina, you must do as I tell you,” said
Godfrey, firmly. “I insist that you get in
and that you give me your address.”
She hesitated for a moment before she re-
plied. Then she said:
“No. 16, Burford Street, off the Totten-
ham Court Road.” -
Having given the address to the driver,
Godfrey took his place beside the girl. He
was thankful, indeed, that he had met her, but
the circumstances under which he had found
her distressed him more than he was able to
say. As they drove along he endeavoured to
elicit some information from her concerning
her present life. She was not communicative,
however. That there was some mystery at
the back of it all, he could see, and the more
he thought of it, the more unhappy he be-
came. Poor little Teresina! He remem-
bered her as she was when she had first sat to
him for the picture which had made his name;
and as he looked out upon the falling snow
and the miserable streets with the dark figures
scurrying along the pavement on either hand,
and thought of her future, his heart sank with-
in him. He wondered whether he could per-
suade her to accept a sufficient sum of money
from him to enable her to return to her own
7


94 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
country and to live in comfort there?. He
was rich, and after all it was not only his duty
but his pleasure to help an old friend. As she
seemed so distressed at meeting him, he re-
solved to say nothing on the subject then,
however; nevertheless, he was determined in
his own mind that he would write to her on
the morrow and make the offer, whether she
accepted it or not. At last they came to a
part of the Strand which was more brilliantly
illuminated than elsewhere. As they came
within the circle of the light, Teresina put up
her hand to push back her hair, and Godfrey
noticed that she wore a wedding-ring upon
her third finger. This gave him food for re-
flection.
“Teresina,” he said, “why did you not
tell me that you were married? I thought
you said you were alone in the world.”
“My husband is dead,” she answered, with
what was almost a note of despair in her voice.
“Your husband dead, and your mother
dead too?” he repeated, almost incredulously.
“Teresina, my dear child, are you telling me
the truth?’”
“Why should you doubt me?” she cried.
“You have no reason for doing so.”
“Because I feel that you are hiding some-


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 95
thing from me,” he said. “Is it any use my
imploring you to confide in me? You know
that I am your friend, and that I would help
you to the best of my ability.”
“I know you would,” she answered.
“You were always a good and kind friend to
me. All I ask of you now, however, is to
leave me alone. I am unhappy enough as it
is. Do not seek to add to my misery.”
“Heaven knows I have no desire to do
that,” said Godfrey. “But if you think I am
going to leave you, as you are now, you are
much mistaken. If you would only be brave
and tell me everything, it might simplify mat-
ters.”
“Impossible,” she cried. “Have I not
told you there is nothing to tell? Oh, why
did I not go another way home!”
“Because it was to be,” he answered.
“You were in trouble, Providence sent me to
help you. Believe me, that is the explana-
tion.”
A few moments later the cab turned from
the Tottenham Court Road into a narrower
and darker street. Half-way down this dingy
thoroughfare it came to a standstill—before a
house on the right-hand side. It was by no
means a cheerful dwelling, and at that hour


96 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
it was wrapped in complete darkness. They
descended from the cab, and Godfrey, who
had no desire that the cabman should over-
hear his conversation with Teresina, paid him
off with a liberal largesse, and allowed him to
go on his way rejoicing.
“Is it any use my again asking you to tell
me your trouble?” he said to the girl beside
him, when the vehicle had disappeared and a
policeman had passed, after taking a long sur-
vey of them. -
“Not in the least,” she answered. “Please
do not ask me.”
“In that case, will you make me a prom-
ise, Teresina? If you will do so, I will ask
no further questions for the present.”
“What is it I am to promise?”
“That you will not leave this house with-
out first letting me know whither you are go-
ing?”
“I will do that,” she answered. “I will
let you know when I leave this house.”
“Here is my card then. You had better
take care of it. A letter or telegram will
always find me. And now good-night, my
poor girl. Remember, I am your friend.”
“Good-night, and may God bless you.”
So saying, she disappeared into the house,


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 97
while he, in his turn, after taking the bearing
of the house, in case he should want to find it
again, set off in the opposite direction to that
by which he had entered the street.
Meanwhile Teresina, choking down her
sobs, climbed the stairs to the room she oc-
cupied in that ramshackle tenement. Un-
locking the door, she entered and started to
cross the floor in search of a box of matches
she remembered having left upon the chim-
ney-piece. She had not advanced more than
three steps, however, before she was seized by
the throat from behind, while at the same
time a keen-bladed knife was driven, as far as
the handle, between her shoulders, only to be
withdrawn and thrust in again and again, until
she fell with a little gasp upon the floor.
When her assassin had made sure that she
was dead, he lit the gas and knelt beside her
for a few minutes. Then he rose, placed
something in a box upon the table, turned off
the gas once more, picked up the box, and
went out, relocking the door behind him.


CHAPTER VI
AFTER leaving Teresina, Godfrey made his
way back to his hotel. As he strode along
he meditated as to what he should do to help
her. That the girl was in serious trouble, he
had not the least doubt; but since she would
not allow him to assist her in any form, what
could he do?
He had been through a good deal that
day, and by the time he reached his hotel he
was quite worn out. The night porter who
admitted him noticed his haggard appear-
a11Ce.
“You don't look very well, sir,” he said,
sympathetically; “is there anything I can do
for you?”
“If you could manage to get me a brandy
and soda, I should be very much obliged,”
Godfrey said, as he dropped into one of the
seats in the hall.
“I will do so with pleasure, sir,” the man
replied, and disappeared at once in search of
98


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 99
the refreshment, which he very soon brought
back. Godfrey drank it off, and then an-
nounced his intention of proceeding at once
to bed.
“Poor little Teresina!” he said to him-
self as he wound up his watch; “poor little
girl, it seems a shame that she should suf-
fer So! ”
Little did he guess that at that moment
Teresina's troubles were over, that she would
never know sorrow or poverty again.
Next morning he returned to Detwich by
an early train. Though he had only been ab-
sent from it a little more than twenty-four
hours, it seemed to him that he had been away
for years.
“You look tired out, Godfrey,” said his
mother, as they stood together in the hall.
“I did not have a very good night last
night,” he said, “and I had a hard day's run-
ning about yesterday. That is all. You
needn't worry about me, mother; I'm as
strong as a horse.”
He went on to tell his mother of his meet-
ing with Fensden, and informed her that
the latter intended coming to stay with the
next day.
“That will be very nice,” she

820


IOO THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS -
will enjoy having him. I shall put him up in
the south wing in order that he may be near
you. The wall-papers are more subdued
there. I know, of old, how he notices these
things.” t
“I don’t think he will bother himself very
much about wall-papers,” said Godfrey, with
a laugh. “He declares that he is so tired of
travelling that the quiet of an English country
house will brace him up again.”
“I have no doubt it will,” said the old
lady. “I remember when your father took
me to Paris for our honeymoon, the mere
sound of the French language gave me a
headache. I never hear it now without think-
ing of that time. And now tell me about
Molly. Did she enjoy the play you took her
to see?”
“Immensely,” he replied. “She sent her
love to you, and bade me tell you that she
would be very pleased to come over to meet
Fensden on Saturday. I only hope that she
won't be knocked up by all this shopping.”
His mother shook her head.
“I don’t think you need have any fear on
that score,” she said. “When a girl is about
to be married to the man of her heart, the col-
lection of her trousseau becomes a labour of


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS IOI
love. She will make a beautiful bride, worthy
of my boy. I can't say more than that.”
“You shouldn't say so much,” said God-
frey. “If your boy were to believe all the
compliments you pay him, he would become
insufferably conceited. And now I must go
round and see how things have been progress-
ing in my absence.”
The following morning witnessed Molly's
arrival at the Hall. It was the first time she
had stayed there since her engagement, and in
consequence she was received with rapturous
delight by her lover. Though they had only
been parted for a day, they seemed to have
a hundred things to tell each other. There
were, moreover, certain important matters to
be discussed connected with the internal ar-
rangements of the house of which she was so
Soon to be mistress. I believe, so infatuated
was the young man that, had she expressed a
desire to have the whole fabric pulled down,
and rebuilt in another fashion, he would have
set about the work at once.
“You are quite sure there is nothing else
you would like to have done?” he asked,
when they had made the tour of inspection,
and were approaching to the drawing-room
Once more.


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs 103
“It is my present to you,” he said, refer-
ring to the picture he had revealed, “to be
hung in your own room.”
“Oh, Godfrey, how good of you! What
a splendid likeness!”
It was, in fact, a portrait of himself upon
which he had been working hard ever since
his engagement had been announced. He
had intended it as a surprise, and in the pleas-
ure he gave her, he felt that he had been am-
ply repaid for the labour it had cost him.
“I shall treasure it all my life long,” she
said, and rewarded him in a manner that
would have turned many folks green with
envy.
“And now,” she said, when she had gazed
her full upon it, “I want you to show me a
photograph of your friend, Mr. Fensden, if
you have one. Remember I have no idea
what he is like.”
“That can very easily be remedied,” he
said. “I have a photo which was taken in
Rome, and a small portrait that I painted my-
self.”
So saying, he crossed the room to his writ-
ing-table, and, having opened a drawer, took
from it a packet of cabinet photographs.
They were, for the most part, likenesses of old


106 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
ter of Detwich would have been difficult to
find. Yet, theugh he could not guess it,
the climax of his life was only a few hours'
distant.
As he drove along, he thought of Molly
and the happiness that was to be his portion
in the future. Then his thoughts turned to
Teresina. While he had prospered in the
world, she had lost what little happiness she
had ever possessed. He determined to dis-
cuss her affairs with Fensden on the first
available opportunity, when doubtless the lat-
ter would be able to suggest a way in which
he might assist her. By the time he had ar-
rived at this reflection, he had reached the
station, and the groom was standing at the
horse's head. Having placed the reins under
the patent clip, he descended from the cart
and went on to the platform. The station-
master saluted him respectfully, and informed
him that the train had already been signalled.
Indeed, the words had scarcely left that func-
tionary’s lips before a whistle was heard in the
cutting, and a moment later it came into view.
As the train swept past him Godfrey caught a
glimpse of the man he had come to meet,
gathering together his travelling things, in a
first-class carriage.


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS Io?
“How are you, my dear old fellow?” he
cried, as he turned the handle of the door.
“You don't know how glad I am to see you!
I am afraid you have had a cold journey. Let
me take some of your things.”
Victor graciously permitted the other to
assist him with his luggage, and then he him-
self descended from the carriage. They
shook hands and afterward strolled in the
direction of the gate. Victor was attired in
a magnificent travelling ulster, and a neat
deer-stalker's hat. An orange-coloured tie
peeped from the opening under his beard,
and his hands were as daintily gloved as a
lady's. Altogether, as he walked down
the platform, he presented as artistic a
figure as Detwich had seen for a very long
time.
“What have you been doing since I saw
you?” Godfrey inquired as they took their
places in the dogcart.
“Repairing the ravages of time and Con-
tinental travel,” Victor replied, somewhat am-
biguously. Then he added politely: “I hope
Miss Devereux is well?”
“Very well, indeed,” said Godfrey, “and
most anxious to see you. She has read your
poems and has seen your portrait; all she


108 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
requires now is to be introduced to the
original.”
“In that case I fear she will be disappoint-
ed,” said Victor, with what was almost a sneer
in his voice. “Since she is with you, I pre-
sume your mother and sister are at the Hall.
Do they look forward to the idea of turning
Out?”
“They are a pair of foolish women who
would do anything, or give up anything in
order to make me happy,” the other replied.
“As a matter of fact, I don’t know that they
altogether mind. They both prefer London,
and when they return from their travels, I be-
lieve it is their intention to take a flat and
settle down somewhere in the neighbourhood
of Kensington.”
“While you are assimilating the bucolic
virtues. Well, it's a pretty picture, and if I
had fifteen thousand a year and a fine estate I
might be tempted to do the same. As I
haven’t the money or the property I remain
what I am.”
“And that is?”
“A trifler,” Victor replied, with unusual
bitterness. “One who might have done and
who did not—who dropped the substance in
an attempt to grasp the shadow.”


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS IO9
“Nonsense,” said Godfrey, who did not
like to hear his friend abuse himself in this
fashion. “If you are going to talk like that
I shall have to prescribe a long dose of coun-
try air.”
Then, in an attempt to change the other's
thoughts, he talked of their travels together,
and of the curious characters they had met,
which lasted until they had passed through
the lodge gates and were well on their way
across the park. Even in the sombreness of
winter the place looked very beautiful, and
Victor expressed himself delighted with it.
“I had no idea it was so fine,” he said, as
they swept round the drive and came into
view of the house. “I can very well under-
stand your liking for a country life when you
possess an estate like this. Your uncle did
you a kind action when he made you his
heir.”
“Nobody is more sensible of that fact than
I am,” Godfrey replied. “I only wish I could
let the old fellow know how grateful I am. I
often think that during his lifetime he was dis-
appointed in me because I took to painting
instead of becoming a country gentleman. I
wonder what he would say if he could see me
now? I don't know what you may think, but
8


I IO THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
to my mind there are times when one likes to
imagine that the dead are near us.”
Victor gave a violent start, followed by a
shiver.
“Good Heavens! What an idea!” he
cried. Then, dropping back into his old
cynical tone, he continued: “I am afraid that
if your idea were possible our human affairs
would become somewhat complicated. For
my own part I am quite content that the mat-
ter should stand as it is.”
As he finished speaking they drew up be-
fore the steps and the two men descended
from the cart. The ladies were waiting in the
hall to receive them.
“How do you do, Mr. Fensden?” said
Mrs. Henderson, coming forward to meet
him. “It is a long time since we have met,
and you have been a great traveller in the
meantime.”
“Thanks to your son,” said Victor as he
took her hand. “How do you do, Miss
Kitty? Events advance too quickly with all
of us, but they seem to have taken giant
strides with you.”
“You mean that when last we met I was
still on the other side of that line which is only
crossed by a girl when she performs the mys-
y


112 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
your room first?” Godfrey inquired, when
the other had tossed off his refreshment, “ or
shall we join the ladies?”
“Perhaps I had better make myself pre-
sentable first,” Victor answered, glancing
complacently at himself in the mirror above
the chimney-piece.
Godfrey accordingly led the way to the
room which had been set apart for his friend's
use, and to which the latter's luggage had
been conveyed. It was a pleasant apartment,
looking out on what was called the Ladies’
Garden, and thence across the park to a high
and wooded hill. Victor went to the window
and studied the prospect.
“You have a charming home,” he said,
with what was almost a sigh; “you are about
to marry a beautiful girl; you have wealth,
success, and everything else that can make
life worth living, Godfrey. You should be
a happy man.”
“I am happy,” Godfrey replied, “and,
please God, I’ll do my best to make others
so. And that reminds me, Victor, I want to
have a talk with you. Do you know that
on Thursday night I met Teresina in the
Strand?”
Victor had turned from the window, and
& &


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS II 3
was brushing his hair at the time. As he
heard what Godfrey said, the brush fell from
his hand upon the floor. As he picked it up
and continued his toilet, he said in surprise:
“Teresina in London? Surely you must
have been mistaken. I thought she was still
in Naples?”
“She is in London,” Godfrey repeated.
“I could not have been mistaken, for I spoke
to her.”
“At what time did you see her?”
“Just about midnight,” his friend replied.
“Are you aware that the signora is dead
and that Teresina is married?”
“How should I be likely to?” said Victor.
“You know that I have not seen her since I
bade her good-bye in your studio before we
went abroad. And so the pretty model is
married? Well, I suppose the proper thing
to say is that one hopes that she will be
happy.”
“But she is not happy, far from it. Her
husband as well as her mother is dead.”
“I believe there are some wives who
would consider that fact to be not altogether
a matter for sorrow. But what makes you
think that Teresina is unhappy?”
“Because she told me so, though she


114 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
would not tell me anything further. The
poor girl seemed in terrible distress.”
“And you gave her money, I suppose?”
said Victor. “That is usually the way one
soothes trouble of her kind. I hope she was
grateful.”
“I wish to goodness you wouldn’t be so
cynical,” said Godfrey, almost losing his tem-
per. “I wanted to help her, but she would
not let me. Every time I offered my assist-
ance she implored me to leave her. She
broke down altogether when we reached her
house.”
“Then you took her home?” said the
other. “Do you think that was wise?”
“Why should I not have done so?”
“Well, you see,” said Victor, putting his
brushes back into their case, “circumstances
have somewhat changed with you. Miss Dev-
ereux might not altogether approve.”
“Miss Devereux is too good and kind a
girl to object to my doing what I could to
comfort an old friend in trouble.”
“But when that old friend in trouble hap-
pens to be an extremely beautiful girl the situ-
ation becomes slightly changed. However,
don't think that I am endeavouring to inter-
fere. And now shall we go downstairs?”


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS II5
“But, confound it, Victor, you don't
mean to say that you take no more interest
in Teresina's fate than this? I thought you
liked her as much as I did.”
“Mon cher ami,” said Victor, rearranging
his tie before the glass, “that is scarcely fair,
either to yourself or to me. Have you for-
gotten a little discussion we had together, and
which eventually resulted in our leaving Eng-
land for a time? Had you not taken such an
interest in Teresina then, I doubt very much
whether I should have seen Cairo or Jeru-
salem, or a lot of other places. But still, my
dear fellow, if there is anything I can do to
help your old model you may be sure I shall
be only too glad to do it.”
“I knew you would,” said Godfrey, pla-
cing his hand affectionately on the other's
shoulder. “We must talk it over some time
and see what can be done. It will never do
to let her go on as she is now.”
“You have no idea, I suppose, of the ori-
, gin of the trouble?”
“Not the least. She would tell me noth-
ing. She tried to make me believe that she
had plenty of work, and that she did not stand
in need of any assistance. I knew better,
however.”


116 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
“And where is she living?”
“In Burford Street, off the Tottenham
Court Road. It is a miserable place, mainly
occupied by foreigners. The house is on the
right-hand side.”
“Very well,” said Victor. “When I go
back to town I will look her up. It will be
hard if we can’t arrange something.”
Then they descended the stairs together
and entered the drawing-room.
“My dear Godfrey, are you aware that
you will have one wife in a hundred?” said
Kitty, pointing to a table on which some
twenty packages of all sizes, shapes, and de-
scriptions were arranged.
“How so?” said Godfrey. “What new
virtue have you discovered in her?”
“I have found that she can subordinate
curiosity to a sense of duty,” said the young
lady. “These presents arrived for you just
after you left for the station, and yet she would
not open them herself or allow me to do so
until you returned. I have been consumed
with a mad desire to explore them, particu-
larly that foreign-looking box at the end.”
“Well, your curiosity shall very soon be
satisfied,” he said. “But we must begin with
the most important-looking packages.”


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 117
“Let us pray that there are no more
Apostle spoons, serviette-rings, or silver
sweet-dishes,” said Molly. “We have al-
ready some two dozen of each.”
Package after package was opened in its
turn and the contents displayed. As they
were for the most part presents to the bride-
groom individually, they were mainly of a
nature suited to his tastes: hunting flasks,
silver sandwich cases, cigar and cigarette hold-
ers, and articles of a similar description. At
last they came to the curious-looking box to
which Kitty had referred. It was oblong in
shape, and bore the name of a Vienna firm
stamped on the end. It was tied with cord,
and the label was addressed in an uneducated
handwriting to “Mr. Godfrey Henderson,
Detwich Hall, Detwich, Midlandshire.”
In his own mind he had no doubt that it
emanated from Teresina, who, as he was
aware, had been informed as to his approach-
ing marriage. Having untied the cord, he
prized the lid, which was nailed down, with a
dagger paper-knife, which he took from a
table close at hand. An unpleasant odour
immediately permeated the room. A folded
sheet of newspaper covered the contents,
whatever they were, and this Godfrey re-


118 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
moved, only to spring back with a cry of hor-
ror. In the box, the fingers tightly interlaced,
were two tiny hands, which had been severed
from the body, to which they had once be-
longed, at the wrist.


CHAPTER VII
It would be impossible to picture, with
any hope of success, the horror which accom-
panied the ghastly discovery described at the
end of the previous chapter. Save for the
cries of the ladies, who shrank from the box
and covered their faces with their hands, and
a muttered ejaculation from Godfrey, some
seconds elapsed before any one spoke. Fens-
den was the first to recover his presence of
mind. Picking up the sheet of paper which
had fallen to the ground, he covered the box
with it, thus shutting out all sight of the
dreadful things it contained.
“Perhaps it would be as well, ladies, if
you were to leave the room,” he said. “God-
frey and I must talk this matter over, and con-
sider how we are to act.”
“Come, mother,” said Kitty, and she led
the old lady in a semi-fainting condition from
the room, closely followed by Molly.
When the door had closed behind them,
Godfrey spoke for the first time.
“Good Heavens, Victor!” he said.
II9


120 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
“What does this mean? Am I mad or
dreaming?”
“I fear it is no dream,” replied the other.
“Who could have done it? Is it a case of
murder, or what? Did you recognise the-
the hands?”
Godfrey crossed to the chimney-piece and
covered his face. A suspicion, so terrible
that he dared not put it into words, was fast
taking possession of him.
“Come, come,” said Victor, crossing to
him, and placing his hands upon his shoulder,
“we must look this matter squarely in the
face. Be a man, and help me. The upshot
may be even more serious than we suppose.
Once more I ask you, did you recognise what
you saw?”
“I fear so,” said Godfrey, very slowly, as
if he were trying to force himself to speak.
“There was a little scar, the result of a burn,
half-an-inch or so above the knuckle of the
second finger of the right hand.”
He had painted those beautiful hands too
often not to remember that scar. Without a
word, he crossed to the table in the middle of
the room upon which the box stood, sur-
rounded by the cases containing the other
wedding presents, and once more removing
>
y


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS I2 I
the lid and the paper, carefully examined what
he saw there. No, God help him! there
could be no sort of doubt about it; the hands
were those of Teresina Cardi, his model and
friend. When he had satisfied himself as to
their identity, he closed the box and turned
to Fensden once more.
“It is too horrible,” he said; “but what
does it mean? Why should the murderer
have sent the hands to me in this dreadful
way?”
“That is what I have been asking myself,”
Fensden replied. “The man, whoever he
was, must have borne you a fiendish grudge
to have done such a thing. Is there anything
about the box that will afford a clew as to the
identity of the sender? Let us look.”
He examined the box carefully, but, be-
yond the printed name of the firm who had
originally used it, there was nothing that
could serve as a clew. It had come by train
from Euston, and had been sent off on the
previous evening. That for the present was
all there was to know about it.
“Once more, what are we to do?” in-
quired Fensden.
“Communicate with the police,” said
Godfrey. “In the meantime, I think I will


122 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
send a note to my future father-in-law, asking
him to come over. I should like to have his
help and support in the matter.”
“A very proper course,” said his com-
panion. “I don't think you could do better.
I should send a man away at once.”
Accordingly Godfrey went to a writing-
table in the corner of the room, and wrote the
letter, then rang the bell, and bade the servant
who answered it see that the note was de-
spatched without delay. When the man had
disappeared, he turned to Fensden once more.
“And now,” he said, “I think it would be
better if we removed the box to the studio.”
They did so, by way of the new conserva-
tory, of which mention has been made else-
where. Then, in something less than an
hour, Godfrey's future father-in-law arrived.
Godfrey received him in his studio, and intro-
duced Fensden to him as an old friend.
“It is very good of you to come so quick-
ly, Sir Vivian,” he said, motioning him to a
chair. “I took the liberty of sending for you
because I want your advice in a very serious
matter. How serious it is you will under-
stand when you have heard what we have to
tell you. We have had a terrible experience,
and I am not quite sure that I am capable of


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS I23
looking at the matter in a temperate light at
present.”
“You alarm me, my dear boy,” said the
old gentleman. “What can have happened?
Tell me everything, and let me see if I can
help you.”
“If I am to do that, I must tell you a
story. It will simplify matters, and it won't
take very long. As you are aware, before my
uncle's death, I might have been described as
a struggling artist. I was painting my big-
gest work at that time, and was most anxious
to find a model for the central figure. I had
hunted London over, but without success,
when Mr. Fensden here happened to discover
an Italian model whom he thought might be
of use to me. I saw her, and immediately se-
cured her services. In company with her
mother, she had been in England for some
little time, and was glad to accept my offer
of employment. When the picture was fin-
ished and hung, I still retained her services,
Joecause I liked the girl and found her useful
to me in some other work I had on hand.
Then my uncle died, and I came into the es-
tate. Mr. Fensden and I immediately agreed
to travel, and we accordingly set off together
for Egypt and the East, intending to be away


124 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
about a year. At the same time, it must be
borne in mind, the girl and her mother had
returned to Italy. While we were at Luxor,
I received a letter from her, forwarding me
her address in Naples, in case I might desire
to communicate with her concerning future
work. Some three weeks later my mother
was taken ill, and I was telegraphed for to
come home at once. I left Port Said in a
mail steamer, intending to take the overland
express from Naples to England. Having
some hours to spend in the latter city, I
thought there could be no harm in my dis-
covering the mother and daughter. I did so,
we dined together at a small restaurant, and
went on to the Opera afterward.”
“You did not tell me that,” said Fensden,
quickly.
“I did not deem it necessary,” said God-
frey. “I should have done so when we came
to discuss the matter at greater length. But
to continue my story. After the Opera I es-
corted them back to their dwelling, but I did
not enter. On my way to my hotel after-
ward, I was nearly stabbed by a lover of my
former model, a man, so she had informed
me, who was extremely jealous of any one who
spoke to her. Fortunately for me, he did not


THE MystERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 125
succeed in his attempt. I knocked him down,
and took his dagger from him.”
As he said this, he took the small poniard,
with which the Italian had attempted his life,
from a drawer, and handed it to the old gen-
tleman.
“Next morning I left Naples, to find, on
reaching England, that my mother was de-
cidedly better, and I need not have abandoned
my tour. Then I met your daughter, fell in
love with her, and in due course our engage-
ment was announced. From the moment I
said good-bye to her in Naples, until last
Thursday night, I had neither seen nor heard
anything of or from my former model.”
“You saw her on Thursday night?” re-
peated the old gentleman. “In that case she
must have returned to England?”
“Yes,” Godfrey replied. “It was after
the theatre, and when I had seen Lady Dev-
ereux and Molly to their carriage. I was
walking down the Strand in search of a cab
to take me back to my hotel, when I met her.
She recognised me at once, and informed me
that her mother was dead, that she had mar-
ried, she did not say whom, and that her hus-
band was also dead. Though she seemed in
great distress, for reasons of her own she
9


126 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
would not let me help her. Feeling that she
ought not to be in the streets at such an hour,
I took a cab and drove her to her home, which
was a house in a narrow street leading out
of the Tottenham Court Road. I bade her
good-bye on the pavement, and having once
more vainly endeavoured to induce her to let
me help her, walked back to my hotel.”
As he said this, he crossed to the table on
which the box had been placed, and once
more removed the lid and paper.
“A number of wedding presents have ar-
rived to-day,” he continued, “and this box
came with them. We opened it, and you
may see for yourself what it contained.”
Sir Vivian approached the table and
looked into the box, only to start back with
an exclamation of horror. His usually rubi-
cund face turned ashen gray.
“My dear boy, this is more terrible than
I supposed!” he gasped. “What does it
mean?”
“I am afraid that it means murder,” said
Godfrey, very quietly. “My poor little Ital-
ian friend has been brutally murdered, by
whom we have yet to discover. But why
these hands of hers should have been sent to
me, I can not for the life of me understand.”


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs 127
“Are you sure they are her hands?”
“Quite sure. There can be no doubt
about it. Both Fensden and I recognised
them at once.”
“One thing is certain: the man who com-
mitted this dreadful deed must have been jeal-
ous of you, and have heard of your kindness
to the girl. Is there any one you suspect?”
“I have it,” said Fensden, suddenly, be-
fore Godfrey could answer. “The man in
Naples, the lover who tried to assassinate you.
He is the man, or I am much mistaken. We
have the best of reasons for knowing that he
was in love with her, and that he would not
be likely to stop at murder. If he would have
killed you, why should he not have killed her?
You told me upstairs, when we were speaking
of her distress, that the street was occupied
by foreigners; what is more likely, therefore,
than that he should have lived there too?
Possibly, and very probably, he was her hus-
band.”
“But she told me her husband was dead,”
Godfrey asserted.
“She may have had some reason for say-
ing so,” Fensden replied. “There are a hun-
dred theories to account for her words. It is
as likely as not that she did not want you to


128 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
see him. He is a Neapolitan. For all we
know to the contrary he may be an Anarchist,
and in hiding. She might have been afraid
that if you saw him it would lead to his ar-
rest.”
“There certainly seems a good deal of
probability in Mr. Fensden's theory,” said Sir
Vivian; “but the best course for you to adopt
appears clear to me. You must at once com-
municate with the police and cause inquiries
to be made. I have seen no mention in the
papers of a woman's body having been found
under such circumstances. The discovery of
a body so mutilated would have been certain
to have attracted a considerable amount of
public attention.”
“I think you are right,” said Godfrey,
after a moment's hesitation. “In the mean-
time what are we to do with these poor
relics?”
“They must be handed over to the po-
lice,” said Sir Vivian. “It is only through
them that we can hope to unravel the mystery.
If I were you I should send for the head con-
stable at once and give them into his charge.”
Then he added kindly: “I can not tell you
how sorry I am, Godfrey, for your trouble.
It must be a terrible blow to you.”


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS I29
“No one can tell what a blow it is, Sir
Vivian,” said Godfrey in a husky voice. “A
more cruel murder has never stained the an-
nals of crime. The girl was an honest, kindly
creature, and that she should have met her
death in this manner shocks me inexpressibly.
If any reward can secure the arrest of the mur-
derer I will gladly pay it. No effort on my
part shall be wanting to bring him to justice.”
“You may be sure that he is a cunning
fellow,” said Fensden, “and that his plans
were deeply laid. For my own part, if I were
you I should place it in the hands of Scotland
Yard and patiently await the result. You
may be quite sure that they will do all in their
power, and if they can not bring about his
arrest, nobody else will be able to do so.”
“Even if they do not succeed in capturing
him I should not abandon the search,” said
Godfrey. “Poor little Teresina shall not go
unavenged. There must be several private
detectives in London who know their busi-
ness almost as well as the officials of Scot-
land Yard. I will find the cleverest of them
and put them on the trail without delay. If a
promise of a thousand pounds can stimulate
him to greater exertions it shall be paid.”
“You will be only throwing your money


I 30 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
away,” said Fensden. “He will be paid by
the hour, with expenses, and he will fool you
with bogus clews from first to last.”
“I must risk that,” Godfrey replied.
A message was thereupon despatched to
the head of the local constabulary, who very
soon put in an appearance at the Hall. He
was a little man, with a pompous manner and
a great idea of his own importance. It ap-
peared to be his opinion that Detwich was the
centre of civilization, and he the custodian of
its peace and safety. On his arrival he was
shown into the studio, where he found the
three gentlemen waiting for him. He saluted
Sir Vivian with the deepest servility, Godfrey
respectfully, and Victor Fensden good-na-
turedly, as if the latter, not being a landowner
in the district, was not entitled to anything
more than a nod.
“We have sent for you, Griffin,” said Sir
Vivian, “in order to inform you that a serious
crime has been committed, not in this neigh-
bourhood, but in London.”
“A good many serious crimes happen
there every day, Sir Vivian,” remarked the
official. “May I ask the nature of this par-
ticular one?”
“Nothing short of murder!” Sir Vivian


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs 131
replied; “and as Mr. Henderson here has
been brought into it we have adopted the
course of sending for you at once in order
that you may acquaint the proper authorities.”
“A very proper proceeding, sir, I have no
doubt,” said the officer, diving his hand into
his pocket and producing a pencil and an
enormous pocket-book. “I shall be glad,
sir, if you will give me the particulars.”
For the third time that afternoon Godfrey
told his story, while the officer made notes.
By the time the contents of the box were
shown to him the man's interest was thor-
oughly aroused. It had always been his am-
bition to be mixed up in some big affair, and
now his chance had come. That being so, he
was resolved to make the most of it.
“There can be no doubt, sir,” he said,
addressing Sir Vivian, “that it is likely to be
a very serious matter. So far as I can under-
stand, the disappearance of the woman has not
been noticed, nor has her body been discov-
ered. I will report the facts of the case to
Scotland Yard at once, and in the meantime I
will take possession of this box and its con-
tents. So far as I can see at present it doesn't
look as if it should be very difficult to lay our
hands upon the murderer.”


132 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
“In that case, I suppose your opinion tal-
lies with ours,” said Fensden, who had just
started another cigarette. “You suspect the
Neapolitan lover.”
“I do, sir,” the man replied with dignity,
as if his suspicions were not things to be
treated lightly. “I only wish I had the con-
ducting of this case throughout. But, there,
I suppose it will go elsewhere and others will
get the credit of the job. There is nothing
else you wish to see me about, I suppose, gen-
tlemen?”
“I think not,” said Godfrey. “But I
should be glad if you would let us know all
that goes on. As I have told you, the poor
girl was an old friend, and her cruel death is
naturally a great blow to me.”
“I will let you know as soon as I hear
anything,” the man replied. “I shall tele-
graph to Scotland Yard as soon as I get back
to the station, and I expect they will be on the
move within the hour. Let me see that I have
got the name and address right, sir. Tere-
sina Cardi, No. 16, Burford Street, Tottenham
Court Road. That is correct, I suppose?”
“Quite correct,” said Godfrey. “It is a
tall house and there is a lamp-post exactly
opposite the door.”


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS I 33
These additional facts having been duly
noted, the officer was about to withdraw, when
the butler entered with the evening papers.
He handed them to his master, who made as
though he would place them on one side, as
being irrelevant to the matter at issue, when
Sir Vivian stopped him.
“One moment,” he said. “Before you
go, Griffin, let us make sure that there is no
reference in the evening papers to the crime.
Will you look, or shall I?”
In answer Godfrey opened the first paper.
It was as well that he did so, for on the middle
page was this announcement in large type:
TERRIBLE MURDER OF A GIRL!
REVOLTING DETAILS)
“I thought as much,” said the police offi-
cer in a tone of bitter disappointment. “Just
my luck again. I was in hopes of being able
to put them on the scent, but it seems that
they have found it out without me. Might I
be so bold, sir, as to ask what it says?”
“I will read the account,” said Godfrey.
“At an early hour this morning it was re-
ported to the authorities at Scotland Yard
that a murder of an unusual nature had been
committed in the vicinity of the Tottenham


I 34 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
Court Road. The victim is an Italian wom-
an, known as Teresina Cardi, an artist's model,
who, it is stated, has been living in the house
in Burford Street, in which her body was dis-
covered, for upward of a fortnight. It might
be mentioned that the house is let out in flats,
the occupants being in the main of foreign
nationality. The girl herself was of a re-
served disposition, and did not associate with
the other tenants of the building. She was
last seen alive at seven o'clock on the evening
of Thursday, when she was observed descend-
ing the stairs dressed for going out. The
hour of her return is not known, nor was her
absence remarked on Friday. Early on Sat-
urday morning, however, the occupant of a
neighbouring room, a German cabinet-maker,
named Otto Grunther, noticed a small stream
of dark-red fluid under the door. His suspi-
cions being aroused, he informed the owner of
the house of what he had seen, who called in
the assistance of the policeman on the beat.
Together they ascended to the room in ques-
tion to find that the door was securely locked.
Their knocks having elicited no response, a
key was obtained and the door opened. On
entering the room it was discovered that the
woman was lying dead upon the floor between


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS I 35
the table and the door. Her throat was cut
and she had been stabbed in several places.
: More horrible still, her hands had been sev-
ered at the wrists and were missing. Though
the police are naturally reticent as to the mat-
ter, we are led to believe that they have not
succeeded in finding a clew. Needless to say
the revolting crime has caused a great sensa-
tion in the neighbourhood.”
“Later News.-Up to the moment of go-
ing to press, the most diligent inquiries have
been made by our own representatives as to
the identity of the murdered woman. Tere-
sina Cardi, it would appear, sat as a model for
the central figure in Mr. Godfrey Hender-
son's famous picture “A Woman of the Peo-
ple,’ which attracted so much attention in the
Royal Academy Exhibition of last year. She
was a Neapolitan by birth, but has spent a
considerable time in this country. It has also
come to light that on the evening in question
she returned home shortly after midnight and
was seen talking to a gentleman in evening
dress on the pavement in front of the house.
“The police hope very shortly to be able
to discover the identity of this mysterious in-
dividual, when doubtless further light will be
thrown upon the tragedy.”


136 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
“Good Heavens!” said Godfrey. “They
surely don't think that I know anything. more
about it than I have said?”
“You must set the matter right without
delay,” said Sir Vivian. “Does it say when
the inquest will be held?”
“On Monday,” Godfrey replied, after he
had once more consulted the paper.
“Then you had better communicate with
the coroner at once, telling him that you are
the person referred to, and offering him all
the information it is in your power to give.
You owe it to yourself, as well as the com-
munity at large, to do this at once.”
“I will do so to-night,” Godfrey replied.
“In the meantime, Griffin, you will com-
municate with Scotland Yard yourself and tell
them what we have discovered. The man
who murdered her must have seen us together
that night, and in the madness of his jeal-
ousy have sent the evidence of his crime on
to me.”
When he had wrapped up the horrible box
the police officer took his departure, leaving
the others to discuss the matter and to en-
deavour to come to some understanding about
it. At last, when there was nothing further
to be said, Godfrey proposed that they should


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS I37
go in search of the ladies. He had scarcely
opened the door of the studio, however, when
there was the sound of a heavy fall. Turning
round, he discovered that Victor Fensden had
fallen in a dead faint upon the floor.


CHAPTER VIII
IN the previous chapter I described to
you how Victor Fensden had fallen in a dead
faint just at the moment when the gentlemen
were about to go in search of the ladies, in
order to reassure them after the terrible shock
they had received. Immediately on hearing
his friend fall, Godfrey hurried to his assistance,
asking Sir Vivian meanwhile to go in search
of brandy. The latter had scarcely left the
room, however, before Victor opened his
eyes.
“My dear old fellow,” said Godfrey, “I
am indeed thankful to see that you are better.
I knew very well that this terrible business
had upset you more than you were willing to
admit. Never mind, it will all be put right
in the end. How do you feel now?”
“Much better,” Victor replied. “I can
not think what it was that caused me to make
such an idiot of myself.”
At this moment Sir Vivian returned with
a glass of brandy and water. Victor Sipped
a little.
138


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS I 39
He had not been feeling well of late, he
explained, and this shock, coming on the top
of certain other worries, had unmanned him
altogether. -
“This has been a terrible day,” said God-
frey, “and a poor welcome for you to Det-
wich. Now, perhaps, you would rather rest
a little before joining the others.”
“I think I should prefer to do so,” said
Victor, and he accordingly retired to his
room, while Sir Vivian and Godfrey went on
to explain matters as best they could to the
ladies, who were in the dining-room, awaiting
their return with such patience as they could
command.
“My dear boy,” said Mrs. Henderson,
hastening forward to greet Godfrey as he en-
tered the room, “you must know how we all
feel for you. This has been a terrible experi-
ence. Have you been able to arrive at any
understanding of it?”
“I think I can,” said Godfrey, who dread-
ed another explanation. “It will be time
enough, however, for me to explain later on.
It is sufficient at present to say that a terrible
murder has been committed in London, and
that the assassin, knowing that I had endeav-
oured to be a good friend to his victim, has


142 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
the People.” It was only a mere study,
roughly worked out; but whatever else it may
have been, it was at least a good likeness of
the hapless Teresina.
“And to think that that beautiful face is
now cold in death,” he said to himself, “and
that the brute who murdered her is still at
large. God grant that it may be in my power
to bring him to justice!”
Before he dressed, he sat down at his writ-
ing-table and composed a letter to the coro-
ner, informing him of all he knew of the case,
and promising him that he would be present
at the inquest in order to give any evidence
that might be in his power to supply. It
was only when he had finished the letter and
sealed it that he felt that he had done a small
portion of his duty toward the dead. He
also wrote to his solicitor giving him an
account of the affair, and telling him that
he would call upon him on Monday, prior
to the inquest, in order to discuss the matter
with him.
Then he rang for his valet and gave in-
structions that the letters should be posted
without fail that evening. Then he began to
dress with a heart as heavy as lead. He re-
membered how much he had been looking


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 143
forward to this dinner ever since the idea had
first occurred to him. In his own mind he
had endeavoured to picture the first meal that
Victor and his betrothed should take together.
He had imagined his friend doing his best to
amuse Molly with his half-cynical, half-bur-
lesque conversation, with Kitty chiming in at
intervals with her sharp rejoinders, while he
and his mother listened in quiet enjoyment of
their raillery. How different the meal was
likely to prove!
His dressing completed, he descended to
the drawing-room, where he had the good
fortune to find Molly alone. It was plain that
she had been there long enough to read the
evening paper, for there was a look of horror
upon her face as she came forward to meet her
lover.
“Godfrey, darling,” she said, “I see by
this paper that a terrible murder has been
committed in the neighbourhood of the Tot-
tenham Court Road, and that the victim was
once your model. I can now understand why
it has affected you so much. Those hands
were hers, were they not? I see also that it
says that some one, a gentleman in evening
dress, was seen talking to her about midnight
on the pavement outside her house. Do you


144 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
think that that man had anything to do with
the crime?” -
“I am quite sure he had not,” Godfrey
answered. “For the simple reason that that
man happened to be myself.”
“Yourself? You, Godfrey?” she in-
quired, looking up at him with startled eyes.
“But that was the night on which we were at
the theatre together?”
“Yes, dear, the same night,” he answered.
“Perhaps it would be better if I were to tell
you the whole story.”
“Tell me nothing more than you wish,”
she said. “I am content to trust you in
everything. If I did not, my love would
scarcely be worth having, would it?”
And then he told her of his association
with the unhappy woman; told her of Tere-
sina's sorrow, and of his own desire to assist
her. Molly's heart was touched as she lis-
tened.
“You were right,” she said, “to try and
help her, poor girl! If I had known, I would
have endeavoured to have done something for
her for your sake. Now, unhappily, it is too
late. But you must not think too much of it,
Godfrey dear. Try to put it away from you,
if only for a time.”


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 145
At this moment Victor Fensden entered
the room. It was plain that he had recovered
his former spirits. He apologized in an easy
fashion for his weakness of the afternoon, and
ascribed it to his recent travels, which, he said,
had proved too much for his enfeebled consti-
tution.
“I am not like Godfrey, Miss Devereux,”
he said. “He seems capable of bearing any
amount of fatigue, plays cricket and football,
tennis and golf, while on a summer's day I
sometimes find it impossible even to lift my
head.”
It was a sad little party that sat down to
dinner that evening. Godfrey was in the low-
est spirits, and Molly was quiet in conse-
quence. Fensden was accepted, on his own
showing, for an invalid, Mrs. Henderson was
naturally of a silent disposition, while Kitty,
finding that her efforts were unappreciated,
lapsed into silence after a time, and thus added
to the general gloom. After dinner there were
music and polite conversation in the drawing-
room until ten o'clock, followed by a retire-
ment to the billiard-room for a game at pool.
It did not prove a success, however. No one
had any heart for the game, and before the
first three lives had been lost it was voted fail-


146 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
ure, and the cues were accordingly replaced in
the rack. The memory of two white hands,
tightly clinched in despair, rose continually
before every eye, and when, at half-past ten,
Mrs. Henderson proposed that they should
retire for the night, every one accepted the
situation with a feeling that was very near
akin to relief.
The next day was scarcely better. For
the first time since he had been master of the
house Godfrey rose early on a Sunday morn-
ing, and, having ordered his dog-cart, drove
into the village. It was scarcely seven o'clock
when he reached the police-station to discover
that the head constable had not yet risen from
his bed. He waited in the small office while
the other dressed, finding what consolation he
could in a case above the chimney-piece in
which several sets of manacles were displayed.
The constable in charge was plainly over-
whelmed by the squire's presence, and to
cover his confusion poked the fire almost con-
tinuously. At last, after what seemed like an
hour, Griffin put in an appearance, and with
many apologies invited Godfrey to accompany
him to his own private sanctum where break-
fast was being laid.
“It’s the first time for many a long day


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS I47
that I have overslept myself, sir,” he hastened
to remark; “but I have been so thinking of
this 'ere case that I did not get to sleep until
this morning, and I am mortal sorry, sir, that
I should have kept you waiting.”
“You have communicated with Scotland
Yard, of course?” said Godfrey, after the
other had finished his apology.
“I telegraphed to them last night, sir, and
forwarded my written report at the same time.
The post isn't in yet, sir, but I expect I shall
get some instructions when it comes.”
He visibly swelled with importance as he
made this remark. He felt that in having the
Squire of Detwich for his ally he could scarce-
ly fail to be noticed, particularly when the
most valuable evidence in the case would be
given by the gentleman in question.
Finding that the man had no further news
to give him, Godfrey drove sorrowfully home
again, feeling that both his early rising and
his visit to the village were alike of no avail.
All through the service in the little church
afterward, despite the fact that Molly wor-
shipped beside him for the first time, he was
ill at ease. Victor had excused himself from
attending the service on the plea of a bad
headache, saying he would go for a walk in-


148 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
stead. When they emerged from the sacred
edifice afterward Sir Vivian took his place by
Godfrey's side.
“You have heard nothing more, I sup-
pose?” he asked. “Griffin promised to com-
municate with you at once on receipt of any
intelligence, did he not?”
“He did,” said Godfrey. “But when I
saw him at the station this morning there was
nothing to tell. In any case I go up to town
to-morrow morning, when I shall first call
upon my own solicitor, to whom I have al-
ready written, and afterward attend the in-
quest as I have promised. Fensden says he's
coming up, too, in order that any evidence he
may have to give may be accepted.”
“One moment, Godfrey,” said the old
gentleman, stopping him and allowing the
others to go on ahead. “I am going to put
a question to you which may probably offend
you. But whether it does or does not, it
must be asked.”
“Anything you ask me, sir, you may be
sure will not offend me,” said Godfrey.
“What is this particular question?”
“I want to know how long you have
known your friend?” the old man inquired.
“You see I am going to be perfectly candid


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 149
with you. You may think me absurd when I
say so, but I have come to the conclusion that
Mr. Fensden does not like you.”
“In that case, sir, I am sure you are mis-
taken,” said Godfrey. “Victor and I were at
school together, and we have been compan-
ions ever since. He may be a little cynical
in his humour, and inclined to be affected in
his dress and speech, but, believe me, in his
inmost heart he is a thoroughly good fellow.”
Sir Vivian was silent for a moment.
“If that is so,” he went on, “then I am
wrong in my conclusions. I must confess,
however, that I was not favourably impressed
with Mr. Fensden yesterday. I noticed that
when he was looking at you and you were not
watching him, there was a curious expression
upon his face that was either one of malice or
something very like it. If I were asked my
opinion about this affair I should say that he
knew more about it than you and I put to—
gether, and more than he either cares, or is
going, to tell.”
“I can not help disagreeing with you,
sir,” said Godfrey, warming in defence of his
friend. “I happen to know that Victor has
not seen Teresina since the day we left Eng-
land. It was he who induced me to get rid


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS I5 I
“We all believe that, Godfrey, of course,”
Sir Vivian replied. “The man who thinks
otherwise would be insane. And now we
turn off here. It is agreed, therefore, that we
meet at the railway station to-morrow morn-
ing and go up to town together?”
“With all my heart, sir,” Godfrey replied,
and then the kindly old gentleman turned off
with his wife at the path that led across the
fields to the court. When they were out of
sight Godfrey informed Molly of her father's
decision.
“With father and Mr. Fensden beside you,
the newspapers will not dare to hint at any-
thing more.”
Then for the first time in his life Godfrey
felt a vague distrust of Victor Fensden.
He put the suspicion from him, however,
as being not only dishonourable to his friend,
but also to himself.
“I have known Victor for a good many
years,” he muttered, “and I should surely be
familiar with his character by this time.”
Yet, despite his resolve to think no ill of
the man, he felt that the idea was gaining
ground with him. - *
When they reached the house they found
Fensden in the drawing-room, comfortably


152 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
ensconced in a large chair before a roaring
fire. He had changed his mind, he asserted,
and had not gone for a walk after all. He
certainly did not look well. His face was
paler than usual, while he was hollow-eyed, as
if from want of sleep. As the party, radiant
after their walk through the sharp air, entered
the room, he looked up at them.
“How nice it must be to be so energetic,”
he said, languidly. “Godfrey looks disgust-
ingly fit, and more like the ideal country
squire than ever. You should paint your own
portrait in that capacity.”
This time there was no mistaking the
sneer. It may have been the thoughts that
had occupied his brain as he walked home,
but even he could not help coming to the
conclusion that the man he had known for so
long, whom he had trusted so implicitly, and
for whom he had done so much, was no
longer well disposed toward himself. He
said nothing, however, for Victor was not
only his guest, but he had troubles enough of
his own just then to look after, without add-
ing to the number. Molly had noticed it
also, and commented on it when she and her
lover were alone together.
“Never mind, dear,” said Godfrey. “It


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 153
doesn't matter very much if he has taken a
dislike to me. I think the truth of the matter
is he is not quite himself. Though he will
not show it, I have an idea he is as much cut
up by this terrible business as I am myself.
He is very highly strung, and the shock has
doubtless proved too much for his nerves.
You won't see very much more of him, for
he will bring his visit to a close to-morrow
morning, as he has decided to go abroad again
immediately after the inquest.”
“But I thought he was tired of travelling,
and that he had stated his desire never to see
a foreign hotel again?”
“I thought so too, but it appears we were
mistaken. However, do not let us talk about
him just now. Can you realize, dearest, that
in ten days’ time we are to be married?”
“I am beginning to realize it,” she an-
swered. “But this terrible affair has thrown
such a shadow over our happiness for the
last twenty-four hours that I have thought of
little else.”
“The shadow will soon pass,” he an-
swered. “Then we will go to the sunny
South and try to forget all about it.”
In his own heart he knew that this was
likely to be easier said than done. Ever since
y


154 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
he had seen it on that memorable Thursday
night, Teresina's piteous face had been before
him, and now with the recollection of what
had followed so close upon their interview to
deepen the impression, it was more than likely
that some time would elapse before he would
be able to forget it.
That night, when he went to bed, he found
it difficult to get to sleep. It was as if the
events of the morrow were casting their
shadows before, and when he did sleep he was
assailed with the most villainous dreams. He
saw himself in a garret room with Teresina
kneeling before him holding up her hands in
piteous entreaty; then he saw her lying dead
upon the floor, her glassy eyes looking up at
him as if in mute reproach. A moment later
he was sitting up in bed staring at Victor
Fensden, who was standing beside him, hold-
ing a candle in his hand, and with a look upon
his face that showed he was almost beside
himself with terror.
“Good Heavens, man, what is the mat-
ter?” cried Godfrey, for the other's face
frightened him. It was as white as paper,
while in his eyes there shone a light that was
scarcely that of reason.
“Let me stay with you, let me stay with


CHAPTER IX
THE first train that left Detwich for Lon-
don next morning had for its passengers Sir
Vivian Devereux, Godfrey Henderson, and
Victor Fensden. Inspector Griffin was also
travelling by it, not a little elated by the im-
portance of his errand. On reaching Euston,
after promising to meet them at the inquest,
Fensden drove off to his club, while Sir Viv-
ian and Godfrey made their way to Lincoln's
Inn Fields, where they were to have an inter-
view with Mr. Cornelius Bensleigh, of the
firm of Bensleigh and Bensleigh, solicitors.
That gentleman had already received a letter
from Godfrey, written on the Saturday night,
giving him an outline of the affair, and ac-
quainting him of the part the latter had played
in the mystery.
“I am afraid this will be calculated to put
you to a considerable amount of inconven-
ience, Mr. Henderson,” said the lawyer, after
they had discussed the matter for a few mo-
ments. “From what I can gather, you were
II 157


I58 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
the last person to see the poor woman alive,
and as Sir Vivian Devereux says, for that rea-
son we must be particularly careful that no
breath of scandal attaches itself to your name.
Now, as cases like this are somewhat foreign
to our experience, I have made up my mind,
always, of course, with your permission, that
I will introduce you to a gentleman who
makes them his particular study. Of course,
should you desire it, I will put precedent on
one side, and do all I can for you; but, if you
will be guided by me, you will place your case
in the hands of Mr. Codey, the gentleman to
whom I refer, and whose name is doubtless
familiar to you. His office is not far from
here, and if you will accompany me, I shall
be only too pleased to escort you to it, and to
introduce you to him.”
This course having been agreed upon,
they accompanied him to the office of the
lawyer in question, and, after a few moments'
delay, were conducted to his presence. He
looked more like a trainer of racehorses than
a criminal lawyer. He was the possessor of
a sharp, keen face, a pair of restless eyes, a
clean-shaven mouth and chin, while the
whiskers on his cheeks were clipped to a
nicety. The elderly lawyer introduced Sir


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS I 59.
Vivian and Godfrey to him, and explained the
nature of their visit.
“Ah, the Burford Street murder,” said Mr.
Codey, as soon as he heard the name of the
case. “I was wondering how long it would
be before I was drawn into it. And so, Mr.
Henderson, you have the misfortune to be
connected with it? As a matter of fact, I sup-
pose you are the gentleman in evening dress
who was seen speaking to the girl on the pave-
ment outside the house.”
“I am; but how do you know it?” God-
frey asked, in considerable surprise.
“I merely guessed it,” said the lawyer.
“I see from the papers that the deceased was
once your model. Now you come to me for
help. I simply put two and two together,
with the result aforesaid. Perhaps you will
be kind enough to tell me all you know about
it. Be very sure you keep nothing back;
after that I shall know how to act.”
Thus encouraged, Godfrey set to work,
and told the tale with which by this time my
readers are so familiar. The lawyer listened
patiently, made a few notes on a sheet of
paper as the story progressed, and when he
had finished asked one or two more or less
pertinent questions.


160 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
“You say that you returned to your hotel
immediately after your interview with the de-
ceased?”
“Immediately,” Godfrey answered.
“Did you take a cab; ”
“No,” said Godfrey; “it was a cold night,
and I thought the walk would do me good.”
“But you drove to the house in a cab; ”
“I did, and dismissed it at once.”
“That was unfortunate. Do you think
the driver would know you again?”
“I should think it very probable,” said
Godfrey.
“You were standing under the lamp-post,
of course, when you paid him, with the light
shining full upon your face?”
“I suppose so, as the lamp is exactly op-
posite the door; but I did not think of that.”
“No; but, you see, I must think of these
things,” said the lawyer. “And when you re-
turned to your hotel?”
“I called for a brandy and soda, and, hav-
ing drunk it, went to bed.”
When he had learned all he desired to
know, it was arranged that Mr. Codey should
attend the coroner's court, and watch the case
on Godfrey's behalf; after which they left the
office. On reaching the club where Sir Viv-


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 163
he had seen the congealed blood under the
door and the suspicions it had given rise to.
In answer to a question put by a superintend-
ent of police, who represented the commis-
sioner, he stated that he had never spoken to
the deceased, for the reason that he knew no
English or Italian, and she was not acquainted
with German. He had heard her go out on
the night in question, and return shortly after
midnight, but whether she was accompanied
by any one he could not say. He also de-
posed to the position of the body when they
opened the door, and to the mysterious fact
that the hands were missing.
The next witness was the police-constable
on the beat, who had been called in by the
landlord. He gave evidence as to the open-
ing of the door, and the discovery then made.
He was followed by the doctor, who had made
the post-mortem examination, and who de-
scribed the nature and situation of the various
wounds, and the conclusions he had drawn
therefrom. Then came the first sensation of
the afternoon, when the well-known artist,
Godfrey Henderson, was called. In answer
to the various questions put to him, he de-
posed that he had known the deceased for up-
ward of a year; that he had employed her for


164 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs
the model of his picture, “A Woman of the
People,” and had always found her a quiet
and eminently respectable girl. He had been
compelled to dismiss her, not because he had
any fault to find with her, but because he was
going abroad. This was not the last he had
heard of her, for, while on the Nile at Luxor,
he had received a letter from her, informing
him of her address, in view of any future work
he might have for her. At Naples he had
again met her, when he was on his way back
to England, and had taken her to the Opera in
her mother's company. On the night of the
murder, he had again met her in the Strand,
quite by accident, when, finding that she was
in serious trouble, he had offered to help her.
She would not accept his assistance, however.
Noticing that she was in a most unhappy
state, and not liking to leave her alone in the
streets, he had called a cab and escorted her
to her abode in Burford Street. He did not
enter the building, however, but bade her
good-bye in the street, after which he returned
to his hotel. He was unable to assign any
motive for the crime, and added that the only
person he could have believed would have
committed it, was a man named Dardini, an
Italian, who was in love with the girl, and
1.


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 165
who had attempted his (the witness's) life in
Naples, on the night of the visit to the Opera.
Whether the man was in England he was un-
able to say. Whether she had been in want
of money at the time of his last seeing her, he
also was unable to say. She had declared
that she was in work, that was all he knew of
the matter.
“On hearing that she was married, did
you not inquire the name of her husband?”
asked the coroner.
“I did,” Godfrey replied, “but she refused
to tell me.”
“Did not that strike you as being singu-
lar?”
“No,” Godfrey replied. “When she in-
formed me that he was dead, I did not press
the matter.”
“You are quite sure, I suppose, that she
was not married when you met her at Na-
ples?”
“I feel convinced that she was not; but I
could not say so on my oath.”
“And when you opened the box, which
you say was sent you at your country resi-
dence, were you not shocked at the discov-
ery you made?”
“Naturally I was!”


166 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
“And what conclusions did you come
to?”
“I gathered from it that my old friend had
been murdered.”
“What caused you to recognise her
hands?”
“A certain mark above the knuckle of the
second finger, the result, I should say, of a
burn.”
At this point, Mr. Codey, who had already
informed the coroner that he was appearing
on behalf of the witness then being examined,
asked an important question.
“On making this terrible discovery, what
was your immediate action?”
“I sent for my prospective father-in-law,
Sir Vivian Devereux, and for the police officer
in charge of Detwich. It was at once agreed
that we should communicate with the authori-
ties and that I should render them all the as-
sistance in my power.”
“Pardon my touching upon such a mat-
ter, but I believe you are about to be married,
Mr. Henderson?” said the coroner.
“I hope to be married on Thursday next,”
said Godfrey.
“I do not think I need trouble you any
further,” the coroner then remarked.


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 167
The next witness was a police officer, who
informed the Court that inquiries had been
made in Naples concerning the man Dardini,
with the result that it was discovered that he
had been arrested for assault upon a foreigner
a fortnight before the deceased's return to
England, and that he was still in prison.
This effectually disposed of his association
with the crime, and added an even greater air
of mystery to it than before.
When this witness had stepped down, Mr.
Victor Fensden was called. He stated that
he was also an artist, and a friend of Mr. God-
frey Henderson. It was he who had first dis-
covered the deceased, and he had recom-
mended her to his friend for the picture of
which she was afterward the principal figure.
She had always struck him as being a quiet
and respectable girl. When asked why she
had received her notice of dismissal, Victor
answered that it was because his friend, Mr.
Henderson, had suddenly made up his mind
to travel.
“I understand you to say suddenly,” said
the superintendent in charge of the case.
“Why was it Mr. Henderson suddenly made
up his mind to go abroad?”
“I do not know that this question is at all
x 3


168 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
relevant to the case,” said Victor, appealing to
the coroner. “It was purely a private matter
on Mr. Henderson's part.”
“But anything that bears on the question
at issue can scarcely be irrelevant,” said the
coroner. “I think it would be better if you
would answer the question.”
Fensden paused for a moment while the
Court waited in suspense.
“I repeat my question,” said the superin-
tendent. “Why did the deceased so sudden-
ly lose her employment?”
Once more Victor hesitated. Godfrey
looked at him in surprise. Why did he not
go on?
“We decided to travel on account of a
conversation Mr. Henderson and I had con-
cerning the girl.”
“What was that conversation?” inquired
the coroner.
Once more Fensden seemed to hesitate.
“Did the conversation refer to the de-
ceased?”
“It did I ?”
“I gather from your reluctance to answer
that you were afraid Mr. Henderson might
become attached to her, so you used your
friendly influence in order to hurry him away


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 169
as quickly as possible? Am I right in so sup-
posing?”
Another pause, during which Victor's face
was seen to express great emotion.
“That was so.”
“You are sure that Mr. Henderson was
attached to the deceased?”
“I am sure of it.”
“Did you know that Mr. Henderson was
aware of the deceased's return to Naples?”
“I was aware that he was in correspond-
ence with her,” said Victor; “but he said
nothing to me of his intention to visit her in
Naples.”
“Had you known this, would you have
endeavoured to dissuade him from such a
course?”
“I do not know what I should have done;
but I should think it very probable that I
should have endeavoured to prevent their
meeting.”
“When did you become aware of the de-
ceased’s return to England?”
“When Mr. Henderson informed me of
it on my arrival at his house at Detwich Hall.”
“You were naturally very much surprised
to hear that he had met her, I suppose?”
“Very much,” Victor replied.


17o THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
“Did you say anything to him upon the
subject?”
“I warned him against the folly of being
drawn into another entanglement with her,
particularly when he was to be married in ten
days' time.”
“You say another entanglement with her?
Are we, therefore, to understand that there
had been an entanglement before?”
Again Victor paused before he replied.
“I withdraw the word ‘another,’” he said,
hurriedly. “I did not mean it in that sense.
I merely suggested to Mr. Henderson that
his fianceé might not care to know that he had
been seen driving through the streets of Lon-
don after midnight with an Italian girl, who
had once been his model.”
“Good Heavens!” said Godfrey to him-
self. “And this is the man whom I have
trusted and who has called himself my friend
for so many years!”
At this point the coroner, addressing the
jury, stated his intention of adjourning the in-
quiry until the following Wednesday morning
at eleven o’clock. He had excellent reasons
for keeping it open until then, he said, and
these reasons he had communicated to the
foreman of the jury, who was completely satis-


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 171
fied. The Court thereupon adjourned, and
Godfrey presently found himself in the street
with Mr. Codey on one side and Sir Vivian
Devereux on the other. Victor Fensclen was
waiting for them on the pavement, and, as
soon as they emerged, he approached them
with a face that still bore the traces of violent
emotion.
“Godfrey,” he began, in a faltering voice,
“after what they dragged out of me, I scarce-
ly know what to say to you.”
“In any case, I beg that you will not say
it,” said Godfrey, coldly. “You have said
quite enough already.” Then, turning to the
others, he continued: “Come, gentlemen, let
us find a cab. I suppose we had better go
back to your office, Mr. Codey?”
“I think it would be better,” said that
gentleman. “I must have a talk with you
upon this matter.”
Then, hailing a cab, they entered it, leav-
ing Fensden on the pavement looking after
them. Godfrey's face was still very pale. It
was impossible for him to be blind to the fact
that his kindness to Teresina had been the
means of bringing down grave suspicion upon
himself. Yet, even with that knowledge be-
fore him, he knew that he would not, or


172 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
could not, have acted otherwise than he had
done.
When they reached the lawyer's private
office, the door was shut and they sat down
to business.
“Well, Mr. Henderson,” said Mr. Codey,
“what is your opinion now?”
“I think that the public mind is already
jumping to the conclusion that I am respon-
sible for the murder,” Godfrey answered,
without fear or hesitation.
“I am very much afraid that you must
accustom yourself to look upon it in that
light,” the other replied. “The man Fens-
den's evidence, given in such a manner as he
gave it, was unnecessarily damaging.”
“He is a black-hearted scoundrel,” said
the old baronet, wrathfully. “I told you yes-
terday, Godfrey, that I didn't trust him, and
that I felt sure he bore you some ill-will. And
yet, do you know, Mr. Codey,” he added,
turning to the lawyer, “Mr. Henderson has
done everything for that man. He has prac-
tically kept him for years past, he took him
on a tour round Europe only a few months
ago, and this is the result. It makes one sick
with humanity.”
“When you have seen as much of human-


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 173
ity as I have, you will not be surprised at any-
thing,” said the lawyer. “The greater the
obligation in many cases, the deeper the in-
gratitude. We are wandering from the point,
however. Now I am going to be plain-
spoken. Tell me, Mr. Henderson, did you
ever, under any sort of circumstance, make
love, or suggest love, to the woman who is
now deceased?”
“Never,” said Godfrey, firmly. “The
man who declares that I did, lies.”
“Very probable, but that won’t prevent his
saying it. When you left her in Burford
Street, did you meet any one near the house?”
“Not a soul. The street, so far as I could
see, was empty.”
“I think you said this morning that the
night porter let you in at your hotel? Did
you make any remark to him respecting the
time?”
“Yes, I said to him when he had opened
the door, ‘I’m afraid I’m rather late,’ then,
looking at my watch, I added, “Why, it's half-
past twelve!’”
“If he's blessed with a good memory, he
will recollect that,” said Codey. Then with
his usual abruptness, he continued, “Which
way did you walk from Burford Street?”
I2


174 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs
“Through the Tottenham Court Road,
along Oxford Street, and down Bond Street.”
“A man shall walk it quickly to-morrow
morning in order to see how long it will take.
If only that hall porter has a good memory,
and can be relied upon, this should prove an
important point.”
“But surely, my good sir,” put in Sir Viv-
ian, “you do not for a moment suppose that
Mr. Henderson will be accused of having
killed this woman?”
“I should not be at all surprised,” said the
lawyer, quietly. “Let us regard the facts of
the case. Some months back, Mr. Hender-
son employed this girl as his model, and re-
tained her services when he really had no need
for them. He was on such familiar terms
with her that his friend felt compelled to re-
monstrate with him. As a result they left
England hurriedly, the girl following them to
Naples. No, no, Mr. Henderson, I beg that
you will be silent. Remember, I am telling
the story as I should tell it if I were against
you instead of for you. As I have said, the
girl left for Naples, and I insinuate that she
followed you. It can be proved that she cor-
responded with you, and that you sent your
friend on his way to travel alone; always bear-


176 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
the same coolness. “But you will find that
the counsel for the prosecution will consider
it more than likely. Let me continue my
story. I was saying that she was unhappy
because you were about to be married. It is
only natural. Then you came up to town,
visited the theatre, and afterward, quite by
chance, met her in the Strand, at midnight.
At midnight, and by chance, mark that!
Does that meeting look like an accidental
one? Could you convince a jury that it was?
I doubt it. However, let us proceed. The
girl is in trouble, and you take her home in a
hansom. The policeman and the cabman will
certainly identify you, and, for the reason that
you say the street was empty when you bade
her good-bye, no one will be able to swear
that you did not go into the house with her.
Now, Mr. Henderson, I ask you to look these
facts in the face, and tell me, as a thinking
man, whether you consider the public is to be
blamed if it regards you with suspicion?”
“As you put it, no,” said Godfrey. “But
it can surely be proved that I had nothing
whatsoever to do with it, beyond what I have
said.”
“Exactly; and that is what we have got
to do. But I don't mind telling you candidly


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 177
that I fancy we shall have our work cut out to
do it. You see, we have to remember that,
beyond your own evidence, there is absolutely
nothing for us to argue upon. The two
strongest points in your favour are the facts
that you were at Detwich when the box con-
taining the dead woman's hands was sent off
at Euston, and that there would not be suffi-
cient time between the moment when the po-
liceman saw you in Burford Street and the
time when you arrived at your hotel, for you to
have committed the crime. What we have to
do is to find the person who despatched the
box from London, and to make sure of the
hall porter. In the meantime go back to Det-
wich, and be sure that you don't stir from
home until you hear from me.”
“One more question, Mr. Codey. I
should like you, before we go any further, to
tell me honestly whether, in your own heart,
you believe me to be innocent or guilty?”
“I believe you to be innocent,” said the
lawyer; “and you may be sure I shall try to
prove it.”


CHAPTER X
A MORE miserable home-coming than
Godfrey's, after the events described in the
previous chapter, could scarcely be imagined.
They had taken a cab from the lawyer's office
to Euston Station, and during the drive,
neither of them referred in any way to the in-
terview they had just had with Codey. It was
not until they were seated in the railway car-
riage, and the train had started upon its jour-
ney, that they broke their silence.
“Sir Vivian,” said Godfrey, “I can not
express to you my thanks for the kindness
which you showed me in standing by me to-
day. Believe me, I am very sensible of it.”
“You must not speak of it,” said the
worthy old gentleman; “and as for the affair
itself, it is a piece of ill-luck that might have
happened to the best of us. At the same
time, I should very much like to have an op-
portunity of telling that wretched Fensden
what I think of him.”
178


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 179
“Do not let us talk of him,” said Godfrey.
“His own feelings must be sufficient punish-
ment for him. There is one thing, however,
that I must say to you before we go any fur-
ther.”
“And what is that?”
“It concerns my wedding,” Godfrey re-
plied. “I am afraid it will be a terrible blow
to poor Molly; but until this charge, which I
have no doubt will be brought against me,
is disproved, she must not think any more
of me.”
Sir Vivian stared at him in astonishment.
“Nonsense, my dear lad,” said he. “I
know that you love my girl, and that she loves
you. It is her duty, therefore, to stand by
you and to comfort you when you are in
trouble. Believe me, she will have no doubt
as to your innocence.”
“I know that,” said Godfrey; “but I do
not think it would be fair for me to allow her
name to be linked with mine under such pain-
ful circumstances.”
“It will be linked with it whether you like
it or not,” was the reply. “If I am prepared
to stake my honour on your innocence, you
may be very sure that she will stake hers.
Molly isn't a fair-weather friend.”


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 181
When they reached Detwich, they became
aware that Griffin had travelled from London
by the same train. Godfrey beckoned to him.
“Of course you heard the evidence to-
day, Griffin,” Godfrey began when the other
approached.
“Yes, sir, I did,” said the police official,
gravely.
“And you must have drawn your own
conclusions from it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, Griffin, what I wanted to say to
you is that, if I am wanted for anything, I
shall not leave the Hall until Wednesday
morning; then I shall go up to the inquiry
again.”
“I will bear the fact in mind, sir,” said the
man. “But there's one thing I should like
to say, if you don't mind.”
“What is it? Say it by all means.”
“It’s this, sir. Whether it's going against
my duty or not—and there's nobody here to
hear it if it is—whatever verdict they may
bring in, I don’t believe for a moment that
you had any more to do with that poor girl's
death than I had. You will excuse my say-
ing so, I hope, sir?”
“On the contrary, I am very much


182 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
obliged to you for your good opinion,” God-
frey replied, holding out his hand which the
other took. “I am afraid that it's going to
be a very unpleasant business for me. That
can’t be helped, however. Good-night.”
“Good-night, sir,” the man answered.
Then Godfrey joined Sir Vivian and, as
had been arranged, they drove off to the Hall
together. The moon was rising above the
hill as they went through the park, and as
Godfrey looked on the peaceful scene around
him and thought of the terrible suspicion that
was growing in people's minds concerning
himself his heart sank within him. If only
little Teresina could speak, how easily she
could clear up all the dark charges against
him! She was dead, however, brutally mur-
dered, and he, the only man who had ever
befriended her, was suspected of having caused
her death.
“Keep up a stout heart, my lad,” said Sir
Vivian, as they alighted from the carriage and
ascended the steps. “Think of the ladies,
and don’t make them any more unhappy than
you can help.”
The door was opened by the ancient butler
who had served his uncle before him, and
Godfrey entered his home, but how different


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs 183
a man from the young fellow who had left it
that morning!
“The ladies are in the drawing-room, sir,”
said the servant, when he had relieved them of
their hats and coats.
They accordingly proceeded thither, one
of them at least with a sinking heart.
“We have just been wondering when we
should see you,” said Kitty.
There was a look of anxiety on Molly's
face as she came forward to meet her lover.
She placed her hand in his, and they sat down
together.
“Well, my dear boy,” said Mrs. Hender-
son, “what have you to tell us? What was
the result?”
There was no need for her to say to what
she referred. Their minds had been too
much occupied with it that day to leave room
for any uncertainty upon the point.
“Nothing is decided yet,” said Sir Vivian,
who took upon himself the part of spokesman.
“The inquiry is adjourned until Wednesday.”
“That means that you will have to go
up again,” said Molly. “Why couldn't they
settle it at once?”
Godfrey knew, but he dared not tell her
the reason.


184 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
“They are searching for more evidence, I
fancy,” said Sir Vivian. “You must remem-
ber that the matter is, at present, shrouded
in the greatest mystery. Until that can be .
cleared up, nothing can be done.”
“And Mr. Fensden, where did you leave
him?” asked Mrs. Henderson.
“We parted outside the Court,” said God-
frey. “I have no idea where he is staying
to-night.”
Though he tried to speak unconcernedly,
Molly felt certain in her own mind that there
had been trouble between the two men. She
said nothing to him about it, however. She
knew that he would tell her in good time.
That night, when Sir Vivian's carriage was
announced, Godfrey accompanied him to the
front door. Before leaving, the old gentle-
man took him on one side out of earshot of
the servants.
“Keep up your spirits, my dear lad,” he
said, as he had done so many times before.
“Remember that you have many friends and
that I am not the least of them. Should any-
thing occur, send for me at once, and I will be
with you as fast as horses can bring me. In
the meantime do not alarm the ladies more
than you can help.”


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 185
“You may rely upon my not doing so,”
said Godfrey, and then Sir Vivian entered his
carriage and drove away.
Later, when Godfrey bade Molly good-
night, she looked up at him with sorrowful
eyes.
“I feel sure,” she said, “that there is
something you are keeping back from me. I
beg of you not to do so. You know how I
love you, and how earnest is my desire to
share both your joys and your sorrows with
you. Will you not confide in me and tell me
everything?”
“When there is anything worth the hear-
ing, you may be sure I will tell you, dear,” he
answered, not daring to let her know the truth
that night. “In the morning we will talk the
whole matter over and you shall give me your
advice. And now you must go to bed and
try to obtain a good night's rest, for I am sure
you did not sleep well last night.”
“I did not,” she answered. “I was think-
ing of you all night, for I knew how you were
dreading going up to-day.”
He did not tell her that he dreaded going
up on Wednesday a great deal more. He
preferred to take her in his arms and kiss her,
calling her his good angel, swearing that he


186 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
would love her all his life long, and that even
death itself should not separate them. Then
he went to his room, prepared to spend what
he knew would be a sleepless night, and he
was not destined to be wrong. Hour after
hour he tumbled and tossed upon his bed,
going over the day's proceedings again and
again, and speculating with never-ceasing
anxiety as to what was to happen in the fu-
ture. At last, unable to bear it any longer, he
rose from his bed and went downstairs to his
studio, where he lighted his fire and smoked
and read until daylight. Then a cold bath
somewhat refreshed him, and, as soon as he had
dressed, he set off across the park to the home
farm. He was always an early riser, and his
presence there at that hour excited no com-
ment. He watched the sleek, soft-eyed cows
being milked, saw the handsome cart-horses,
of which he had once been so proud, set off
upon their day's work, had a quarter of an
hour's conversation with his head-keeper at
his cottage gate, and then returned home
through the plantations to breakfast. It was
his mother's habit to read prayers to the
household immediately before the meal, and,
as he knelt by Molly's side, and listened to the
old familiar words, his heart ached when he


188 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
seemed to point to himself as being the man
who had committed the dastardly deed. He
could well imagine what the feeling of inde-
pendent persons would be who read it, and
how readily they would arrive at a conclusion
unfavourable to himself. He had just pe-
rused it for the second time, when he was
startled by a faint tap upon the door.
“Come in,” he cried, and in response
Molly entered the room.
“I have been looking for you,” she said,
with the parody of a smile upon her face.
“I should have come in search of you in
a few moments,” he replied. “The fact is, I
have had certain things to do which could not
very well be left undone. Will you forgive
me, dear?”
“Of course I will,” she answered. “It is
impossible for you to be always with me, and
yet I am selfish enough to grudge you the
time you spend upon anything else.”
He was quick-witted enough to see that
what she said was only an attempt to gain
time. She, on her side, knew that he stood
in need of comfort, and she had come to give
it to him. -
“Molly,” he said, rising from the chair in
which he had been sitting and going toward


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs 189
her, “I feel that I must tell you everything.
God knows, this is the crisis of my life, and to
whom should I turn in my sorrow, if not to
the woman I love, and whom I know loves
me? Have you read the account of the in-
quest in the papers?”
“No,” she answered, “I would not read it,
lest I should derive a false impression from it.
I am quite willing to hear what you have to
say about it, and to accept your version as the
truth.”
“God bless you, dear, for your trust in
me!” he replied; “but it is necessary that you
should hear what other people have to say
upon the matter. Read it carefully, and,
when you have finished, tell me what you
think about it.”
He gave her the paper, and for a moment
she stood as if undecided.
“Do you really wish it?” she asked.
“It is better that you should do so, be-
lieve me,” he said. “In that case, no one can
say that I kept anything back from you.” .
“I will read it,” she said, and went toward
the window-seat to do so.
While she was reading, he stood before
the fire and watched her. He noticed the
poise of the beautiful head, the sweet hands
I3


190 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
holding the paper, on one finger of which
sparkled the engagement ring he had given
her, and the tiny foot just peeping from be-
neath the dark green skirt. She was a woman
worth fighting all the world for, and, as he
reflected how easy it would be for false evi-
dence to separate them, he experienced a
fear such as he had never known in his life
before.
When she had finished, she crossed the
room with the paper in her hand. Deliberate-
ly folding it up and laying it upon the table,
she went to him, and placed her hands in his.
Looking up into his face with trustful eyes,
she said:
“I told you yesterday, Godfrey, that I be-
lieved in you. I tell you again, that, what-
ever the world may say with regard to this
dreadful affair, it will make no difference in
my love. I feel as convinced as I am of any-
thing that, by whatever means, or at whose
hand, that poor girl met her death, you were
in no sort of way responsible for, or connected
with it. You believe me, don't you?”
“I do,” he answered, with tears in his
eyes. “And I thank God for your trust. Do
you know, yesterday I suggested to your fa-
ther that, situated as we are, it would be better


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS I9 I
if I were to give you back your freedom until
my innocence is proved?”
“I would not take it,” she answered, firm-
ly. “When I gave myself to you, it was
not to be your bride in fair weather alone; it
was to be your partner in the rough seas of
life as well as in the smooth. No, come what
may, Godfrey, I will not let you give me up.
Promise me that you will never mention such
a thing again? It hurts me even to think
of it.”
“Your mind is made up?”
“Quite made up,” she answered. “I
should not change, even if you were what—
(here she shuddered)—what that paper would
seem to suggest. No, darling, I am your wife,
if not in the law, at least in God’s sight.”
“I thank you,” he answered, earnestly.
“The knowledge that you still trust me will
be my most precious consolation.”
“And now tell me of this Mr. Codey, the
lawyer you have employed. Is he a clever
man?”
“One of the cleverest in the land, I should
say,” Godfrey replied. “He has had great
experience in these sort of cases, and, if any
man can render me assistance, I should say
he is that one.”


I92 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
“Oh, how thankful I shall be,” she said,
“when everything is settled! How little we
dreamt, when we were so happy together last
week, that within a few days we should be
made so miserable! Perhaps, after all, it is
only our love being tried in the crucible of
trouble. And when it is over, and we have
come out of it, we shall know each other's real
worth. That is the best way to look at it, I
think.”
“Quite the best,” he answered, and kissed
her on the forehead.
Then, adopting a brighter tone, he sug-
gested that they should go for a walk to-
gether, in order, if possible, to dispel, for the
time being at least, the dark clouds that had
settled upon them. It was a clear, bright
morning, and as they crossed the park, and
mounted the hillside toward the plantation,
where the rabbits were playing, and the pheas-
ants, who of late had not received the atten-
tion their merits deserved, were strutting
about on the open grass land, Godfrey found
it difficult to believe that the situation was
really as desperate as he imagined. Their
walk lasted for upward of two hours; indeed,
it was nearly lunch-time before they reached
the house once more. When they did, Molly


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS I93
went upstairs to her room to prepare herself
for luncheon, while Godfrey made his way to
his mother's sitting room, where he found the
old lady quietly knitting by the fire.
“Thank goodness you have come in at
last, dear!” said Mrs. Henderson. “I have
been wanting so much to have a talk with you!
Godfrey, I have read the evidence given at the
inquest, and it frightens me.”
“I am sorry for that, mother,” he said,
seating himself by her side. “What do you
think of it?”
She placed her hand upon his arm, and
looked at him with her loving eyes.
“I think my boy is too noble to have done
anything of which his mother would have had
reason to be ashamed.”
Godfrey rose from his chair and walked to
the window. These constant proofs of the
love in which he was held was unmanning
him. He could not trust himself to speak.
When his own little world believed in him so
implicitly, how could the greater world be so
censorious?
When they went into luncheon, Godfrey
soon saw that the ancient butler and his sub-
ordinate had become aware of the state of af-
fairs. Attentive to his wants as they always


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS I95
the attentions he had received from his
friends.
“That makes the fifth pair of asparagus
tongs we have received,” said Molly, as she
closed the case and placed it with its fellows
upon the table. “And what is this? Well, I
declare, it's another set of sweet dishes. That
brings the number up to twenty-seven!”
At that moment the sound of carriage
wheels outside reached them, followed, a few
seconds later, by the ringing of the front door-
bell.
“Visitors, I suppose,” said Kitty. “It
may be rude, but I must say that I trust it is
not the vicar.”
They waited in suspense until Williamson,
the butler, entered the room and informed
Godfrey that a gentleman had called to see
him, and was waiting in the library.
“Who is it?” Godfrey asked. “Did he
not give his name?”
“His name is Tompkins, sir,” the butler
replied. “He said he should be glad if you
could spare the time to see him for a few
moments.”
“I will do so at once,” said Godfrey, and,
asking the ladies to excuse him, left the room.
On entering the library, he found himself


196 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
face to face with a middle-aged individual, who
at first glance resembled a sporting parson.
He was dressed in black, and carried a black
silk hat in his hand.
“What can I do for you?” Godfrey in-
quired. “I am not aware that I have ever
seen you before.”
“Very likely not, sir,” the man replied.
“My name is Tompkins, and I am a Scotland
Yard detective. I hold a warrant for your
arrest on a charge of wilfully murdering Tere-
sina Cardi in Burford Street on the night of
Thursday last. I had better tell you that any-
thing you may say will be used against you.”
The blow had fallen at last! -


CHAPTER XI
FoR some moments Godfrey stood look-
ing at the man who had come down from
town to arrest him, as if he were stunned.
Though he had half expected it, now that the
blow had fallen he seemed scarcely able to ap-
preciate his position. At last, with an effort,
he recovered his self-possession.
“You may be able to imagine what a very
unhappy mistake this is for me,” he said to
the detective. “But I have no wish to com-
plain to you; you are only doing your duty.
Where is it you desire to take me?”
“We must go up to town to-night,” said
the man, civilly enough. “As you may re-
member, sir, the adjourned inquest is to be
held to-morrow morning, and it will be neces-
sary for you to be present.”
“In that case we had better catch the 6. IO
train from Detwich. It is an express and gets
to Euston at eight. Is your cab waiting, or
shall I order one of my own carriages to
take us?”
I97


198 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
“I told the man to wait,” the other re-
plied. “He is a station cabman.”
“In that case, if you will allow me, I will
tell my servant to put up a few things for
me. I suppose I shall be allowed to take
them?”
“There is no objection to it.”
Godfrey rang the bell, and, when the but-
ler appeared in answer to it, bade him tell his
man that he intended going up to London at
once, and that he wanted his bag prepared
without a moment's delay. Then, with a fine
touch of sarcasm, he added: “Tell him also
that I shall not require my dress clothes.”
The detective smiled grimly. It was a
joke he could appreciate; he also liked the
other's pluck in being able to jest at such a
time.
“That's the thing with these swells,” he
said to himself. “They never know when
they're beaten.”
“In the meantime,” said Godfrey, “I sup-
pose you will permit me to say good-bye to
my family? I will give you my word, if you
deem it necessary, that I will make no attempt
to escape.”
“I will trust you, sir,” said the man. “I
know it's hard lines on you, and I want to


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS I99
make it as pleasant for you as I can, provided,
of course, you don't get me into hot water.”
“I will endeavour not to do that,” said
Godfrey. “And now I’ll go to the drawing-
room. If you think it necessary you can wait
in the hall.”
“No, sir, thank you. I am quite com-
fortable here,” said the man; “but I shouldn't
make the interview longer than I could help
if I were you. These things are always a bit
trying for the ladies. I know it, because I’ve
seen it so often.”
Having ordered a glass of brandy and
water for him, the man's favourite tipple, and
handing him an illustrated paper, Godfrey left
him and returned to the drawing-room. He
had an agonizing part to play, and he wanted
to spare his women folk as much pain as pos-
sible. As he entered the room they looked
up at him with startled faces. “
“What is it, Godfrey? What is it?”
asked his mother, while the two girls waited
for him to speak.
“It is a man from London who has come
down to see me with regard to the murder,”
Godfrey began, scarcely knowing how to
break the news to them. “It appears that
the authorities are desirous of seeing me prior


200 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
to the inquest to-morrow, and so I am going
up to-night.”
“Godfrey,” cried his mother, springing to
her feet and running toward him, “I see it all.
They have arrested you on a charge of mur-
der! Oh, my boy, my boy, I can not let you
go! They shall not take you away.”
“It is only a matter of form, mother,” he
said, soothingly. “On the face of yesterday's
evidence, they could do nothing else. All
well, I shall be down again to-morrow. It is
only a little temporary inconvenience; for my
lawyer, who is one of the cleverest men of his
profession, feels certain that he can disprove
the charge.”
“It is monstrous even to suspect you of
it,” said Kitty. “If they only knew you,
they would not dare even to hint at such a
thing.” -
Molly said nothing. But he knew what
her thoughts were.
“I must send a note to your father, dear,”
he said. “He anticipated this and made me
promise to communicate with him directly it
should come to pass.”
He thereupon went to a writing-table in
the corner of the room and wrote a hurried
note to Sir Vivian, after which he rang the


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 201
bell and gave orders that it should be taken
to the Court without a moment's delay.
“Now,” he said, when he had examined
his watch and found that it was nearly half-
past five, “I must bid you good-bye. Do
not be anxious about me. I am proudly con-
scious of my own innocence, and I feel sure
that, by this time to-morrow, the public will
be aware of it also.”
But his mother was not to be comforted.
She clung to him with the tears streaming
down her cheeks, as if she could not let
him go.
“Mother dear,” said Kitty, “you must be
brave. Think of Godfrey, and don't send him
away more unhappy than he is.”
“I will be brave,” she said, and drew his
face down to hers and kissed him. “Good-
bye, my dear boy. May God in His mercy
bless you and send you safely back to us!”
When Kitty had kissed him, she drew her
mother back into the ingle nook in order that
Godfrey and Molly might say good-bye to
each other in private.
Then Godfrey took Molly in his arms.
“Good-bye, my own dearest,” she said.
“I shall pray for you continually. Night and
day you will be in my thoughts.”


202 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
He could not answer" her, but kissed her
passionately. Then, disengaging himself from
her embrace, he left the room.
Returning to the library, he informed the
detective that he was at his disposal, at the
same time telling him that, if they desired to
catch the 6. IO at Detwich, they had no time
to lose.
“We had better be going, then,” said the
man, and leaving the library they proceeded
into the hall. Godfrey's bag had already been
placed in the cab, and the gray-haired old but-
ler, Williamson, was standing at the foot of
the stairs holding the door open.
“Good-bye, Williamson,” said Godfrey.
“I know that I can safely leave everything in
your hands.”
“You can, sir,” the man replied, simply;
and then for the first time in his life he allowed
himself to become familiar with his master,
and laying his hand on his arm he added,
“May God bless you, sir, and send you back
to us soon!”
Then the cab rolled away down the drive,
and Godfrey's journey to prison had com-
menced.
For the greater part of the drive into Det-
wich neither of them spoke. One had too


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs 203
much upon his mind to be in the humour for
conversation, while the other, who was sorry
for his prisoner, and who knew a gentleman
when he saw one, had no desire to thrust him-
self upon him in his trouble. As it happened
when they reached the station they found that
they had some minutes to spare. They ac-
cordingly strolled up and down the platform,
while they awaited the coming of the express.
On its arrival they secured an empty com-
partment, and settled down for the journey to
London. When Euston was reached they
took a cab and drove direct to Bow Street,
where Godfrey Henderson, of Detwich Hall,
Detwich, was formally charged with the wilful
murder of Teresina Cardi, artist’s model. The
usual forms having been complied with, he
was placed in a somewhat superior apartment
in another portion of the building. Then the
key was turned upon him, and for the first
time in his life was a prisoner.
Early next morning it was announced that
two gentlemen had arrived to see him. They
proved to be Sir Vivian Devereux and Mr.
Codey, the lawyer.
“My dear lad, this is indeed a sad busi-
ness,” said Sir Vivian, as they shook hands.
“I can not tell you how sorry I am for you.


204 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
But, thank God, we know you to be innocent
and are determined to prove it.”
They sat down, and the lawyer, who had
been looking round the room, which doubtless
he had seen on many previous occasions, be-
gan to ply him with questions, which Godfrey
answered to the best of his ability. When
they had withdrawn, he was left to himself
until the time arrived for him to set off for the
coroner's court. When he did so, it was in a
cab with a couple of stout policemen beside
him to see that he made no attempt to escape.
On reaching it, he found that it was packed
to overflowing. Victor Fensden was there,
seated in the space reserved for the witnesses,
but Sir Vivian noticed that he avoided meet-
ing Godfrey's eyes. With one exception, the
proceedings proved comparatively tame. It
was only when the hall porter referred to God-
frey's haggard appearance when he returned
to the hotel on the Thursday night, that there
was anything approaching excitement. He de-
posed that Mr. Henderson, who had been stay-
ing at the hotel, and whom he now recognised
as being in Court, returned to the hotel on the
night of the murder between a quarter-past
and half-past twelve. He, the porter, was im-
mediately struck by his strange appearance.


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 2O5
In reply to a question put by a juror, he re-
plied that he looked very much as if he had
been upset by something; his face was deadly
white, and he had an anxious, what he should
call frightened, look in his eyes. At the
other's request, he had procured him some
brandy, and, as he had had some trouble next
morning with the head waiter about it, the fact
was the more vividly impressed upon his
memory. The cabman who had driven them
from the Strand to Burford Street was next
called. In answer to questions put to him, he
stated that, when he was hailed by the person
now in court, the deceased woman seemed
very reluctant to enter the cab. But the other
had at last prevailed upon her to do so, and
he had driven them to the house in the street
in question. He had identified the body, and
could swear as to the identity of the person in
court. The police-constable, who had passed
a few minutes before he bade Teresina good-
night, was next examined. He remembered
seeing them together, and thought it a strange
place for a gentleman to be in at such a time.
His attention was drawn to them because the
girl was crying, while the gentleman seemed
somewhat excited. Feeling that, as he was
not appealed to, he had no right to interfere,
I4


206 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
he passed on down the street. In answer
to the coroner's inquiry, he was unable to
say whether or not the man entered the
house.
Ten minutes later a verdict of wilful mur-
der against Godfrey Henderson was returned,
and he was committed for trial on the coro-
ner's warrant.
Instead of returning to Bow Street from
the coroner's court, Godfrey was now driven
to Holloway Prison, where he was placed in
an ordinary cell. His spirits by this time had
fallen to as low an ebb as it would be possible
for those of a human being to reach. What
had he done to deserve this cruel fate? He
was not conscious of ever having done any one
an injury; he had always done his best to
help his fellow-men. Why, therefore, was he
brought so low? He thought of Molly, and
pictured her feelings when she should hear
that he was committed for trial. He could
imagine his mother's despair and could almost
hear poor, sorrowing Kitty vainly endeavour-
ing to comfort her.
During the afternoon Sir Vivian and Mr.
Codey came to see him again. The former
was very plainly distressed; the latter, how-
ever, regarded matters in a somewhat more


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs 207
stoical light. He had seen the same things so
many times before, that he had become in a
certain measure hardened to it. In all the
cases upon which he had hitherto been en-
gaged, however, he had never had one in
which the prisoner was a country gentleman,
besides being an artist of considerable repute.
“You must not give way, Mr. Henderson,”
he said, kindly. “There's plenty of time yet
for us to prove your innocence. Doubtless,
when this is all over and you are free once
more, you will regard it as a very unpleasant
experience, certainly, but one which might
very easily have been worse. Now, with your
permission, I will tell you what I have done.
In the first place, we must endeavour to find
the real murderer. Only a trained hand could
do this, so I have engaged a man with whom
I have had a great many dealings in the past.
He is a private detective of an unusual kind,
and has a knack of securing information which
neither the Government men nor the private
agents seem to possess. He will be expen-
sive, but I suppose you will have no objection
to paying him well for his services, if he is suc-
cessful, as I trust he will be.”
“You may be quite sure I shall have no
objection,” said Godfrey. “Let him get me


208 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
out of this scrape, and I’ll pay him double,
even treble, his usual charges.”
“Oh, he won't bleed you as much as that,”
returned the lawyer. “He is below now, and
if you care to see him, I will obtain permission
for him to come up.”
The necessary authority being forthcom-
ing, Codey presently returned, accompanied
by a burly, rosy-cheeked individual, who
might very well have been the landlord of a
well-to-do country inn or a farmer in a pros-
perous way of business. A more jovial coun-
tenance could scarcely have been discovered,
had one searched England through for it.
Merely to look at it was to be made to feel
happy, while to hear his laugh was to be put
in a good humour for the remainder of the
day. He was dressed in a suit of tweeds,
more than a trifle pronounced as to colour, a
knitted blue waistcoat covered his portly, bow-
windowed presence, while he wore a spotted
blue and white tie, decorated with a large dia-
mond pin. His feet and hands were enor-
mous, and when he laughed—which he did on
every available opportunity—his whole figure
seemed to quiver like a blanc mange.
“This is Jacob Burrell, Mr. Henderson,”
said the lawyer, when the door had closed on


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 209
them. “I have told him that you wish him
to take up your case, and he is prepared to do
so without delay.”
“I am exceedingly obliged to you, Mr.
Burrell,” said Godfrey. “Mr. Codey has told
me of your cleverness. If you can discover
who it was who actually murdered the poor
girl, you will not only relieve me from a posi-
tion of considerable danger, but you will lay me
under an everlasting obligation to yourself.”
“I’ll do the best I can, sir,” said the man,
jovially, rubbing his hands together, as if he
regarded the whole affair as a huge joke.
“As Mr. Codey may have told you, I have un-
ravelled pretty tangled skeins in my day, and
it won't be my fault if I don't do the same
here. Now, sir, Mr. Codey, who knows my
ways of work, has given me an outline of the
case, but if you don’t mind, I should like to
put a few questions to you on my own ac-
count.”
“Ask me whatever you please,” said God-
frey, “and I will answer to the best of my
ability.”
Burrell seated himself opposite Godfrey,
placed one enormous hand on either knee, and
looked the other full in the face.
“Now, sir, in the first place, when you had


2 IO THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
your old studio in London, before you in-
herited your present estate, and when you first
engaged the girl, can you remember who were
your intimate friends? I mean, the friends
who were in the habit of dropping into your
studio pretty frequently, to smoke their pipes,
and perhaps to take a friendly glass?”
Godfrey considered for a moment.
“I had not very many friends in those
days,” he answered at last. “I was a hard
worker, and for that reason didn't encourage
men to waste my time. Besides, I was only a
struggling artist, and couldn't afford to enter-
tain very much.”
“But there must have been some men
who came in. Think, sir, and try to recol-
lect. It's an important point.”
“Well, of course, there was my friend, Mr.
Fensden, who practically lived with me. He
used my studio whenever he had anything
to do.”
“He is the gentleman who gave the dam-
aging evidence against you on Monday, is he
not?”
“He is! Then there was a Mr. Bourke, a
leader writer on the Daily Record.”
“I know Mr. Bourke,” said the detective.
“We may dismiss him from the case at once.”


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 2 II
“Then there was an artist named Halliday,
who occasionally dropped in, but he is now in
Dresden.”
“When did he go?”
“Nearly two months before I went abroad
myself,” Godfrey answered. “I think I have
given you the list of my friends. I can re-
member no more.”
“Now, sir, that box, in which the hands
were sent, had you ever seen it before?”
“No,” said Godfrey; “I am quite certain
I had not.”
“When you came home from Egypt, did
you make any purchases in Naples?”
“None at all. I was only there one
night.”
“Now, sir, I am given to understand that
your friend, Mr. Fensden, induced you to go
abroad for the reason that he feared you were
falling in love with your model. On what
sort of terms was Mr. Fensden himself with
the girl in question?”
“On very friendly terms,” said Godfrey.
“Was he in love with her, do you
think?”
“I am certain he was not,” Godfrey re-
plied, shaking his head. “I do not think he
would ever be in love with anybody.”


214 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs
the magistrate for a remand in order to give
Burrell more time to look about him. I shall
keep in touch with him, you may be sure. I
have retained Alfred Rolland as counsel for
you. He and I have often worked together,
and I don’t think you could have a better
man.”
“I place myself in your hands unreserved-
ly,” said Godfrey. “Do whatever you think
best, and spare no expense. I have others be-
sides myself to think of in this matter.”
“You have indeed, poor souls!” said Sir
Vivian. “I shall go down to-night, and try
to reassure them, and come up again first
thing in the morning.”
When they left him, half-an-hour later,
Godfrey sat himself down on his bed and re-
signed himself to his own miserable thoughts.
What enemy had he who hailed from Vienna?
He could think of no one among the circle of
his acquaintances who had ever been there.
Certainly no one who would be likely to do
him such an irreparable wrong. After that he
thought of his dear ones at home, and broke
down completely. His supper was sent away
untouched. He felt as though he could not
have swallowed a mouthful, even had his life
depended on it. At last he retired to bed, but


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 215
not to rest. When he rose next morning, he
felt older by a dozen years.
“This will never do,” he said to himself.
“If I go on like this, people will begin to
think from my appearance that I am guilty.
No, they shall see that I am not afraid to look
any man in the face.”
Then the door was unlocked, and he was
informed that it was time to set off for the
magistrate's court.


CHAPTER XII
THE preliminary investigation before the
magistrate calls for but little comment. The
evidence was, with but few exceptions, that
which had been given before the coroner on
the Monday and Wednesday preceding. If it
were remarkable for anything it was for the
number of spectators in the Court. The build-
ing, in which the coroner's inquiry had been
conducted, had been crowded, but the police-
court was packed, not with the poorly-clad
spectators which one usually meets and asso-
ciates with that miserable place, but by well-
dressed and even aristocratic members of so-
ciety. When Godfrey recovered from his first
feeling of shame at finding himself in such a
place and in such a position, and looked about
him, he recognised several people whom he
had once accounted his friends, but who had
now schemed and contrived by every means
in their power, to obtain permission to watch,
what they thought would amount to his deg-
216


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs 217
radation and final extinction. Pulling him-
self together he gazed boldly around him, and
more than one person there told himself or her-
self that a man who could look at one like that
could never be guilty of such a crime as mur-
der. Mr. Rolland, the counsel who had been
retained by Codey for the defence, was a tall,
handsome man, and of others, little above mid-
dle-age. He was the possessor of a bland,
suave manner which had the faculty of ex-
tracting information from the most unwilling
and reluctant witnesses. Near him sat Mr.
Codey himself, keen-eyed and on the alert for
anything that might tend to his client's advan-
tage. The curiosity of the visitors was not
destined, however, to be gratified, for, when
certain of the witnesses had been examined,
the case was adjourned for a week, and God-
frey returned to Holloway by the way he had
COIne. -
How the next seven days passed Godfrey
declares he is unable to tell, but at last that
weary week came to an end, and once more he
stood in the crowded Court. At first glance
it looked, if such a thing were possible, as if
more people had been squeezed into the build-
ing than on the previous occasion. The fash-
ionable world was as well represented as be-


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 22 I
him. He took it in his daintily gloved hand
and examined it carefully.
“Have you ever seen that knife before?”
asked the prosecution.
Victor hesitated a moment before he re-
plied.
“No,” he answered, as if with an effort.
“Think again,” said his examiner. “Re-
member that this is a court of justice, and it
behooves you to speak the truth. Where did
you see that knife before?”
Once more Victor hesitated. Then in a
somewhat louder voice he said:
“In Egypt. In Cairo.”
“To whom does it belong?”
“To Mr.—I mean to the prisoner. I was
with him when he purchased it.”
A greater sensation than ever was pro-
duced by this assertion. Godfrey leaned for-
ward on the rail of the dock and scrutinized
the witness calmly.
“Your Worship,” he said, addressing the
magistrate, “with all due respect I should like
to be allowed to say that I have never seen
that knife in my life before.”
The prosecution having finished their
case, Mr. Rolland addressed the Bench. He
pointed out how entirely improbable it was
I5


222 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
that a gentleman of Mr. Henderson's charac-
ter and position would commit a murder of
such a cowardly nature. He commented on
the fact that it would have been impossible,
had he even desired to do such a thing, for
him to have committed the crime and have
walked from Burford Street to his hotel in
Piccadilly in the time counted from the mo-
ment he was seen by the police officer to the
time of his arrival at his hotel. Moreover, he
asked the magistrate to consider the question
as to whether a man who had committed such
a dastardly deed would have been likely to
send the mutilated remains to himself as a
wedding present. It was useless for him,
however, to argue, the magistrate had already
made up his mind, and Godfrey was therefore
not surprised when he found himself com-
mitted to stand for his trial at the next Crim-
inal Sessions, to be held in a month’s time.
Bowing to the magistrate, he left the dock,
entered the cab that was waiting for him in
, the yard, and was driven away to Holloway.
“It was the finding of that knife that did
it,” said Mr. Codey reproachfully, when he
next saw him. “Why on earth didn't you
tell me that it was hidden there?”
“Because I did not know it myself,” God-


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 223
frey replied. “When I told the magistrate
that I had never seen it before, it was the
truth. I did not buy a knife in Cairo, so how
could I have brought one home with me?”
“But who could have placed it behind the
bookcase, if you did not?” asked the lawyer.
“That is more than I can say,” said God-
frey simply.
“Look here, Mr. Henderson,” said Codey
sharply, “I have met a good many unsuspi-
cious men in my time, but I don’t think I have
ever met one so unsuspicious as you are. I
have a list of all the people in your house at
the moment when that box arrived. Let us
run it over. There was your mother, your
sister, and your fiancée, Miss Devereux. As
our friend Burrell would say, they may be dis-
missed from the case without delay. Your
butler and footman are old family servants, as
are the housekeeper, the cook, and the head
parlour-maid. They may also be dismissed.
The remainder of the household would be
scarcely likely to possess a knife of that de-
scription, so we will dismiss them also. There
remains only yourself and Mr. Fensden. You
declare you are innocent, and we will presume
that you are. Now, Mr. Fensden, by his evi-
dence has placed you where you are. That is


224 the MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs
certain. You say that he lied as to the fact of
your being in love with the woman who is
dead, and also when he said that you pur-
chased the knife in Cairo. You say that he
came to stay with you on the day that the
murder was discovered—why should he not
have placed it behind the bookcase, in order
that it should be another incriminating point
against you?”
“I can not believe that he would do such a
thing,” said Godfrey. “He would not be so
base.”
“I am not so sure of it,” said the astute
lawyer. “What is more, I made a curious dis-
covery to-day. The man in question pretends
to be your friend. He gives his evidence with
reluctance. Yet I noticed that when that
knife was produced his face betrayed neither
surprise nor emotion. Had he had your in-
terests at heart, would he have been so cal-
lous? Answer me that! Now you have my
reasons for arguing that he knew where the
knife was, and also the man who had placed it
there.”
“The suspicions you suggest are too hor-
rible,” said Godfrey, rising and pacing the cell.
“What possible reason could he have for do-
ing me such an injury?”


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs 225
“One never knows. There are some men
who hate the man who is supposed to be their
best friend, either because he, the friend, has
been successful in money-making, in love, or
perhaps he presumes him to be happier than
himself. You are rich; he is poor. You
have been successful in your profession; he
has been a failure. His hatred, like hundreds,
might have begun with jealousy and have ter-
minated in this. I have known more unlikely
things.”
“In that case what am I to do?”
“Leave it to me and to Burrell to arrange.
If things were not going right, my experience
teaches me that that astute gentleman would
have shown signs of dissatisfaction before now.
He has got his nose on the trail, you may be
sure, and if I know anything about him, he
will not leave it for a moment.”
“But do you think he will be able to prove
my innocence?” asked Godfrey.
“All in good time, my dear sir, all in good
time,” said the lawyer. “With me for your
lawyer (pardon the boast), Rolland for your
counsel, Dick Horsden and Braithwaite with
him, and Burrell for the ferret that is to make
the rabbits bolt, you could not be better
served. For my own part, I wouldn’t mind


226 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
making you a bet—and as a rule I am not a
man who gambles—that the last-named gen-
tleman has already acquired sufficient informa-
tion to secure your return to Detwich with an
unblemished character.”
“Then do so by all means,” said Godfrey.
“I will take it with the greatest pleasure in the
world.”
“Very well then,” answered the lawyer.
“I’ll tell you what we’ll do. I’ve a junior
clerk who has the making of a man in him,
but who is in consumption. The doctors tell
me that, unless he is sent for a long sea voy-
age to the other side of the world, he will not
live a year. I have promised to send him to
the South Seas, and, if you like, this shall be
our bet: If you get off scot-free, you pay all
his expenses—something like five hundred
pounds—and also give him five hundred
pounds to go on with. If you don’t, then I
pay. Will you agree to that?”
“With all the pleasure in the world,” God-
frey replied.
“Then it’s settled. And now I must be
going. Good-bye.”
They shook hands, and then the lawyer
took his departure, leaving Godfrey happier
than he had been for some time past.


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 227
The month that separated the magistrate's
inquiry from the Sessions at the Old Bailey
seemed to Godfrey like an eternity. Day after
day crept slowly by, with but little, if anything,
to relieve the monotony. He took his daily
exercise, kept his cell in spotless order, re-
ceived visits from the lawyer, who came to
report progress, and from Sir Vivian, who
brought messages of hope and encouragement
from the folk at home.
On one red-letter day he was informed
that visitors had arrived to see him, and he
was accordingly conducted to the room where
he had on several occasions interviewed his
lawyer. The warder opened the door and he
entered, to be nearly overwhelmed by surprise.
Standing by her father's side, at the farther
end of the room, and waiting to receive him,
was no less a person than Molly herself. She
ran forward and threw herself into his arms.
“Molly, Molly,” he faltered, “what does
this mean? Why are you here? You should
not distress yourself like this.”
“I could not help it,” she answered. “I
had to come, I could stay away from you no
longer. You do not know how I have suf-
fered. It seems as if a lifetime had elapsed since
we parted. At last I managed to persuade


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 231
America in search of a fraudulent trustee,
whose whereabouts the officials of Scotland
Yard had not been able to discover. Well-
nigh every page had a story of its own to
tell, and when Burrell was in the humour, he
could, with the book before him, reel off tale
after tale, of a description that would be cal-
culated to make the listener's hair stand on
end with astonishment. At the present mo-
ment he was occupied, as he very well knew,
with one of the most knotty problems he had
ever tackled in his life. His face wore a puz-
zled expression. In his right hand he held
a large magnifying glass and in his left a Cana-
dian stamp of the year 1852. But whether it
was the case he was thinking of or the stamp
it would have been difficult to say. -
“Genuine or not?” he asked himself.
“That's the question. If it's the first, it's
worth five pounds of any man's money. If
it’s a fudge, then it's not the first time I’ve
been had, but I’ll take very good care that, so
far as the gentleman is concerned who sold it
to me, it shall be the last.” -
He scrutinized it carefully once more
through the glass and then shook his head.
Having done so he replaced the doubtful arti-
cle in the envelope whence he had taken it,


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 233
stand in need of brandy. Why, it's an almost
unbelievable list of absurd coincidences. How-
ever, he didn't commit the crime, that’s quite
certain. I’ve had a bit of experience in my
time, and I don’t know that I’ve ever made a
mistake about a human face yet. There's not
a trace of guilt in his. To-morrow morning I'll
just run round to the scene of the murder and
begin my investigations there. Though the
Pro's have been over the ground before me, it
will be strange if I can not pick up something
that has not been noticed by their observant
eyes.”
A perpetual feud existed between the fa-
mous Jacob Burrell and the genuine repre-
sentatives of the profession. His ways were
unorthodox, the latter declared. He did not
follow the accustomed routine, and what was
worse, when he managed to obtain informa-
tion it was almost, if not quite, impossible to
get him to divulge it for their benefit. Such
a man deserved to be set down on every pos-
sible opportunity.
True to the arrangement he had made with
himself on the previous evening, Burrell im-
mediately after breakfast next morning set out
for Burford Street. On reaching No. 16 he
ascended the steps and entered the grimy pas-


234 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
sage, and inquired from a man he found there
where the landlord was to be discovered. In
reply the individual he interrogated went to
the head of a flight of stairs that descended
like an abyss into the regions below, and
shouted something in German. A few mo-
ments later the proprietor of the establishment
made his appearance. He was a small sallow
individual with small bloodshot eyes, suggest-
ive of an undue partiality for Schnapps, and
the sadness of whose face gave one the im-
pression that he cherished a grievance against
the whole world. His sleeves were rolled up
above the elbows, and he carried a knife in one
hand and a potato in the other.
“Vat is dat you vant mit me?” he in-
quired irritably, as he took stock of the per-
son before him.
“I want you to show me the room in
which that Italian girl, Teresina Cardi, was
murdered,” Burrell replied, without wasting
time.
The landlord swore a deep oath in Ger-
111a11.
“It is always de murder from morning
until night,” he answered. “I am sick mit it.
Dat murder will be the ruin mit me. Every
day der is somebody come and say ‘Where is


236 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
were taking in the character of the room, mak-
ing his own deductions and drawing his own
inferences. At last, when the other had ex-
hausted his powers of description, Burrell took
from his pocket his favourite magnifying glass,
cased in its covering of chamois leather. Hav-
ing prepared it for business, he went down on
his hands and knees and searched the floor
minutely. What he was looking for, or what
he hoped to find, he did not know himself, but
a life's experience had taught him that clews
are often picked up in the most unexpected
quarters.
“I’ve known a man get himself hanged,”
he had once been heard to remark, “simply
because he neglected to put a stitch to a shirt
button and had afterward to borrow a needle
and thread to do it. I remember another who
had the misfortune to receive a sentence of fif-
teen years for forgery, who would never have
been captured, but for a peculiar blend of to-
bacco, which he would persist in smoking after
the doctors had told him it was injurious to his
health.”
So slow and so careful was his investiga-
tion, that the landlord, who preferred more
talkative company, very soon tired of watch-
ing him. Bidding him lock the door and


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 237
bring the key downstairs with him when he
had finished, he returned to the culinary opera-
tions from which he had been summoned.
Burrell, however, still remained upon his
knees on the floor, searching every crack and
crevice with that superb and never-wearying
patience that was one of his most remarkable
characteristics. It was quite certain, as the
landlord had said, that the floor had been most
thoroughly and conscientiously scrubbed since
the night of the murder. He rose to his feet
and brushed his knees.
“Nothing there,” he said to himself.
“They’ve destroyed any chance of my finding
anything useful.”
Walking to the fireplace he made a most
careful examination of the grate. Like the
floor, it had also been rigorously cleaned. Not
a vestige of ash or dust remained in it.
“Polished up to be ready for the news-
paper reporters, I suppose,” said Burrell sar-
castically to himself. “They couldn't have
done it better if they had wanted to make sure
of the murderer not being caught.”
After that he strolled to the window and
looked out. The room, as has already been
stated elsewhere, was only a garret, and the
small window opened upon a slope of tiled
I6


238 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
roof. Above the eaves and at the bottom of
the slope just mentioned, was a narrow lead
gutter of the usual description. From the
window it was impossible, unless one leaned
well out, to look down into the street below.
“Just let me think for a moment,” said
Burrell to himself, as he stood looking at the
roofs of the houses opposite; “the night of
the murder was a warm one, and this window
would almost certainly be open. I suppose if
the people in the houses on the other side of
the way had seen or heard anything, they
would have been sure to come forward before
now. The idea, however, is always worth try-
ing. I've a good mind to make a few inquiries
over there later on.”
As he said this he gave a little start for-
ward, and leaning out of the window, looked
down over the tiles into the gutter below. A
small fragment of a well-smoked cigarette
could just be descried in it.
“My luck again,” he said with a chuckle.
“If some reporter or sensation hunter didn't
throw it there, which is scarcely likely, I may
be on the right track after all. Now who
could have been smoking cigarettes up here?
First and foremost I’ll have a look at it.”
On entering, he had placed his walking


240 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
the cigarette had been manufactured was
Cairo.
“I wonder,” said the detective to himself,
“if this is destined to be of any service to me.
At first glance it would appear as if my first
impression was a wrong one. Mr. Hender-
son, who is accused of the murder, has lately
returned from Cairo. Though, perhaps he
never purchased any tobacco there, it would
certainly do him no good to have it produced
as evidence, that the butt end of a cigarette
from that place was found in the gutter out-
side the window of the murdered woman's
room.”
After another prolonged inspection of the
room, and not until he had quite convinced
himself that there was nothing more to be
discovered in it, he descended to the lower
regions of the house, returned the key to the
landlord, and immediately left the building.
Crossing the street, he made his way to the
house opposite. The caretaker received him,
and inquired the nature of his business. He
gave his explanation, but a few questions were
sufficient to convince him that he must not
expect to receive any assistance from that
quarter. The rooms, so he discovered, from
which it would have been possible to catch


242 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
tered another street on his right. He was
now in the neighbourhood of quiet-looking
houses of the office description. There was
nothing about them to indicate that their
occupants were the possessors of any great
amount of wealth, and yet one could not help
feeling, as one looked at them, that there was
a substantial, money-making air about them.
Having reached a particular doorway, Burrell
paused, consulted the names engraved upon
the brass plate on the wall outside, and then
entered. He found himself in a small hall,
from which a narrow flight of linoleum-cov-
ered stairs led to the floors above. These
stairs he ascended, to presently find himself
standing before a door on which the names of
Messrs. Morris and Zevenboom were painted.
Disregarding the word “Private,” which for
some inexplicable reason was printed under-
neath the name of the firm, he turned the
handle and entered. A small youth was
seated at a table in the centre of the apartment,
busily engaged making entries in a large
book propped up before him. He looked up
on seeing Burrell, and, in an off-hand fashion,
inquired his business.
“I want to see Mr. Zevenboom if he's at
home,” said the latter. “If he is, just tell


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs 243
him, my lad, that I should like to speak.to
him, will you?”
“That's all very well,” said the boy with
an assurance beyond his years, “but how am I
to do it if I don't know your name? Ain't a
thought reader, am I?’”
“Tell him Mr. Burrell would like to speak
to him,” said the detective without any ap-
pearance of displeasure at the lad's imperti-
nence. “I fancy he will know who I am,
even if you don't!”
“Right you are, I'll be back in a moment.”
So saying, the lad disappeared into an inner
apartment with an air that seemed to insinuate
that if Mr. Zevenboom might be impressed by
the stranger, it was certainly more than he
was. His feelings received rather a shock,
however, when his employer informed him in
a stage whisper that Mr. Burrell “was the
great detective,” an ade him show him in at
once and not kee. .iim waiting. Jacob was
accordingly ushered in, with becoming cere-
mony, and found himself received by a little
man, whose beady black eyes and sharp fea-
tures proclaimed his nationality more plainly
than any words could have done.
“Ah, mein dear friend,” said he, “I am
glad to see you. It is long since we have


244 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
met, and you are looking as well as ever
you did.”
“I am all right, thank you,” said Burrell
genially. “Thank goodness, in spite of hard
work, there's never very much the matter
with me.”
Before he seated himself the other went to
a cupboard at the back of his desk and, having
unlocked it, took from it a cigar box, one of a
number of others, which he placed upon the
table at his guest's elbow.
“Try one of these,” he said; “you will
smoke nothing better in all Europe. I pledge
you the word of Israel Zevenboom to that.”
“I can quite believe you,” said Burrell,
and then mindful of the business that had
brought him there, he added, “if there's one
man in all London who knows a good cigar I
suppose you are that one.”
The little man grinned in high apprecia-
tion of the compliment.
“Cigars or cigarettes, I tell you, it's all
the same to me,” he said, spreading his
hands apart. “There is no tobacco grown,
or upon the market, that I can not put a
name to.”
“And you are familiar with all the best
makers, I suppose?”
y


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 247
rely upon your information being correct? It
will make a big difference to me.” -
“My good friend, you may be quite sure
of that,” the other answered with pride. “I
am Israel Zevenboom, the expert, and after
fifty years' experience, should not be likely to
make a mistake in such a simple matter as
that.”
Then, at Burrell's request, he thereupon
wrote down the address of the firm in Paris,
after which the detective thanked him heartily
for his trouble and bade him good-bye.
“To-morrow,” said Burrell to himself, “if
all goes well, I will take a run down to Mr.
Henderson's country seat and make a few in-
quiries there. After that it looks as if Paris
is likely to be the scene of my next operations.
There are one or two little preliminaries, how-
ever, that must be settled before I leave Eng-
land.”
He was as good as his word, and the mid-
day train next day landed him upon the plat-
form at Detwich. He inquired how far it was
to the Hall, and on being informed of his direc-
tion, set off along the High Road at a swinging
pace. He was a man who never rode when
he could walk, and, had he not chosen another
profession, it is possible he might have made a


248 THE MYSTERY of THE CLASPED HANDS
name for himself in the athletic world as a
pedestrian.
“It seems a sad thing,” he said to himself,
as he turned in through the lodge gates and
began to cross the park, “that a young gentle-
man owning such a beautiful place as this
should be clapped into limbo on a charge of
murder. But here I suppose is what the liter-
ary gentlemen call the ‘Irony of Fate.” How-
ever, it's my business to get him out of the
scrape he's in if I can, and not to bother my
head about anything else.”
Having reached the house he sent his name
in to Mrs. Henderson, and asked for an inter-
view. Her daughter Kitty was with her in
the morning room when the butler entered.
“Mr. Jacob Burrell?” she said in a puz-
zled way, looking at the card the man had
handed to her. “I don't know the name, do
you, Kitty?”
“Why, yes, mother, of course I do,” the
girl replied. “How could you forget? He is
the famous detective whom the lawyers have
engaged to take up the case for poor Godfrey.
Tell him that we will see him at once, William-
son, and show him in here.”
A few moments later Burrell made his ap-
pearance and bowed to the two ladies. That


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 249
he was not at all the sort of individual they
had expected to see was evident from the ex-
pressions upon their faces.
“Doubtless, ladies, you have heard my
name and the business upon which I am en-
gaged,” he said, by way of introducing him-
self.
They acknowledged that they had done so,
and when they had invited him to be seated,
inquired what success he had so far met with.
He shook his head cautiously.
“In these sort of cases you must not ex-
pect to succeed all at once,” he said. Then ob-
serving the look upon their faces he added:
“You see, Mrs. Henderson, a big case, unless
the evidence is very clear and straightforward,
is not unlike a Chinese puzzle, being a lot of
little pieces cut out of one big block. Well, all
the little cubes are tipped out upon the floor
in confusion, and before you can begin to put
them together it is necessary to familiarize
yourself with the rough outlines of the parts
and to make yourself acquainted with the sizes,
shapes, and numbers of the pieces you have to
work with. That done you can begin your
work of putting them together.”
“Mr. Burrell is quite right, mother,” Kitty
remarked. “We must be patient and not ex-


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs 251
you my brother's studio first,” she said. “Will
you come with me?”
Burrell followed her out of the room and
down the long corridor to the room in ques-
tion. Kitty left him there, and for upward of
half-an-hour he remained in the apartment,
busily engaged upon what he called “forming
his own impressions.” After that he passed
through the French windows out into the
grounds beyond, had a few minutes' conversa-
tion with some of the men, and, when he had
exhausted that portion of the business, re-
turned to the house to find that luncheon had
been provided for him in the library. He
thereupon sat down to it and made an excellent
meal. That finished, he was wondering what
he should do next, when Kitty entered the
TOO111.
“I hope you have been well looked after,
Mr. Burrell,” she said. “You are quite sure
there is nothing else you would like?”
“Nothing at all, thank you,” he answered,
“unless I might ask you for a cigarette?”
“A cigarette,” she replied, with a sugges-
tion of astonishment, for he did not look like
the sort of man who would have cared for any-
thing less than a pipe or a strong cigar.
“That is very unfortunate, for I am afraid we


252 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
have not one in the house. My brother God-
frey, you see, never smokes them, and I re-
member his saying just before ” she paused
for a moment and a look of pain came into her
face, “just before this trouble occurred,” she
continued, “that the supply he had laid in for
his friends was exhausted and that he must
order some more.” Then she appeared to
recollect something, for her face brightened.
“Ah!” she cried, “now I come to think of it,
we do happen to have a box which Mr. Fens-
den left here before he went away. If you'll
excuse me, I’ll get it.”
He thanked her and she left the room,
whereupon he walked to the window and stood
looking out upon the lawn, drumming with
the fingers of his right hand upon the pane be-
fore him. What his thoughts were at that mo-
ment will in all probability never be known,
but when, a few minutes later, Kitty returned
with a box of cigarettes in her hand, he turned
to greet her with as much excitement in his
face as he had ever been known to show about
anything. The box in question was flat and
square, with some Arabic writing in gold upon
the lid and the inscription Kosman Constanti-
nopolous et Cie, Caire.
Jacob Burrell may or may not have been a


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 253
cigarette smoker (for my part I have never
seen him with so mild a weed between his
lips). I only know that on this particular oc-
casion he stood with the cigarette in one hand
for some time without lighting it, and the box
in the other.
“Did I understand you to say that Mr.
Fensden gave these cigarettes to your broth-
er?” he inquired at last, after he had turned
certain matters over in his mind.
“Yes,” she replied. “He used to say
laughingly that the weakest of all Godfrey's
weak points was his dislike to Egyptian ciga-
rettes, and that if he would only try to cultivate
the taste for that tobacco, he would be con-
verted from barbarism to comparative civ-
ilization. You have seen Mr. Fensden, of
course?”
“I saw him in Court.” Burrell replied, ap-
parently without much interest. “And now,
I think, with your permission, miss, I will re-
turn to the station. I have seen all that is
necessary for my purpose here, and am anxious
to get back to town as soon as possible. There
are several matters there that demand my at-
tention.” Kitty was silent for a moment.
Then she gained her courage and spoke out.
“Mr. Burrell,” she said, laying her hand
17


254 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
upon his arm, “I suspect you can very well
imagine what a terrible time of suspense this
is for us. As I said this morning, we all know
that my brother is innocent of the crime with
which he is charged. But how can we prove
it? All our hopes are centred upon you.
You have done such wonderful things in the
past that surely you can bring the real perpe-
trator of this hideous crime to justice. Can
you not give us even a grain of hope to com-
fort us? My poor mother is fretting herself
to a shadow about it.”
“I scarcely know what I can say just yet,”
he replied. “I, of course, have begun to
form my own theories, but they are too unsub-
stantial as yet for me to be able to pin any faith
upon them—much less to allow you to do so.
This, however, I will tell you, and any one who
knows me will tell you that it is something for
me to admit. What I say is that up to the
present moment, I have been more successful
than I had dared to hope I should be. Like
yourselves, I have a conviction that your
brother is innocent, and you may believe me
when I say that it won't be my fault if we can't
prove it. May I ask you to rest content with
that? I can not say more.”
“I can not thank you sufficiently for your


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs 257
»
about it, then,” returned the lawyer. “You
know when the trial comes off?”
“As well as you do, sir! That's why I
want to get away at once. There's no time
to be wasted—that’s if we're to be properly
posted.”
“Well, then, good-bye, and may good
luck go with you.”
Next morning Burrell, acting on the plan
he had made, left London for Paris, with the
portion of cigarette in his pocket.


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 259
him and he was ushered into the proprietor's
office, a charming little apartment fragrant
with the odour of the divine weed. Now
Burrell's French is not particularly good, but
Monsieur Zacroft's English was certainly a
good deal worse. However, they managed
after a fashion, and with the help of a clerk,
to make each other understand, and that was
perhaps all that was wanted. Zacroft in-
quired with much solicitude after the bodily
welfare of his good friend Zevenboom, and
on being assured that the latter enjoyed ex-
cellent health, so far as Burrell was aware,
proceeded to ask in what way he could be
of service to the Englishman. The latter im-
mediately commenced to explain, speaking in
a louder tone than usual and using many ges-
ticulations, as an Englishman so often does,
in the hope of making his meaning clearer
to his auditor. Later on Burrell produced
the charred remnant of the cigarette. The
Frenchman admitted that the cigarette shown
to him was of the same brand as that manu-
factured by Messrs. Kosman & Constanti-
nopolus of Cairo, of which wealthy firm, he
took care to point out, he was the Parisian
representative. He was also acquainted with
Mr. Victor Fensden, and admitted that he


262 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
ered the interpreter whom the hotel manager
had found for him, he set off for the street in
which he had been told Teresina Cardi and
her mother had dwelt.
“‘See Naples and die” they say,” he mut-
tered to himself, as he made his way out of
one into another tortuous and unsavoury
street. “It should have been “smell Naples
and die.’ A connoisseur could discover a
hundred fresh unsavouries in every hundred
yards.”
At last they found themselves in the
street in question, and, after some little hunt-
ing, discovered the house in which the mur-
dered girl had resided with her mother. The
interpreter questioned the head of the family
who lived on the ground floor. With many
flourishes and bows, the latter, whose only
work in life, it would appear, was to smoke
cigarettes upon the doorstep, informed him
that the Signora Cardi was dead and that the
funeral had been a most imposing one.
“Ask him what has become of the daugh-
ter,” said Burrell, who was anxious to dis-
cover whether or not the man were aware of
the murder.
“Gone,” was the laconic reply. Eventu-
ally he condescended to add, “An English-


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 267
For my own part I don’t believe they came to
Rome at all.”
Once more he resumed his journey and
at length had the satisfaction of finding him-
self in Francis Joseph's famous city. He was
very fond of Vienna, partly because he had
made two important captures there, and pos-
sibly more so for the reason that one of the
best deals in stamps he had ever effected was
brought to a head in that delightful city. On
this occasion he lost no time, but set to work
immediately on his arrival. In this town,
however, the search was not destined to
prove a difficult one. He had not been more
than twice unsuccessful when he tried the
Hotel National in the Karntner Strasse. The
manager himself admitted that he had a bad
memory for faces, but he was quite sure of
one thing, if they had stayed at his hotel, his
head waiter would be sure to recollect them.
That functionary was immediately summoned
to the council, and the photograph was placed
before him. He had no sooner looked upon
it than he recognised it as being the likeness
of the gentleman who had stayed there with
an Italian girl. They had come to Vienna
to be married it was said. -
“To be married?” said Burrell in aston-


268 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
ishment. “What do you mean by that?
Weren't they married when they arrived?”
Before the waiter could answer, light had
dawned upon the manager, who thereupon
chimed in.
“Ah, my friend, I remember now,” he
said. “That was the gentleman who was
married at the Church of Funfhaus in the
Gurtel Strasse. Now I can recall the pair
perfectly.” -
“The Church of Funfhaus in the Gurtel
Strasse, you said, I think,” said Burrell, mak-
ing a note of the name in his pocket-book for
future reference. “Pray how long did the
happy couple remain with you?”
“For upward of a fortnight,” the man-
ager replied, consulting a book. “But they
were not happy all the time!”
“What do you mean by that? Why
were they not happy?”
“For a very simple reason,” the manager
replied. “I mean that toward the end of their
stay it was becoming plain to most of us that
the gentleman was a little neglectful of his
bride. Yet she was a beautiful girl! Ah! a
beautiful girl!”
“It was the waning of the honeymoon,”
said Burrell cynically. “Poor girl, it didn't


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 269
last long.” He paused for a while to pursue
his own thoughts, then he continued aloud,
“Have you any idea where they went after
they left here?”
The manager reflected for a moment.
“To Munich, I believe. But of that I
am not quite certain. We will ask Adolphe.”
The head waiter was once more consulted,
and corroborated his superior. The couple
had left for Munich with the intention of pro-
ceeding later to Paris. He was sure of this
for the reason that he had heard the gentle-
man talking to the lady on the subject on the
morning of their departure.
The next day was spent by Burrell in col-
lecting further evidence. He interviewed
the worthy clergyman who had married them,
obtained certain necessary documents from
him, discovered the jeweller who had sold
them the wedding ring, and when he had
learned all he wanted to know, took the train
and started for Munich.
In Munich he discovered the hotel at
which they had stayed and sundry other par-
ticulars which might, or might not, prove
useful later on. Thence he continued his
journey to Paris, where more discoveries
awaited him. At last, and none too soon, he
I8


27o THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
boarded the steamer which was to carry him
to England. Even this short voyage was
not devoid of interest, and by the time he
reached London once more, he felt that there
was not very much standing between him
and the end. But what remained was in all
probability more important than the begin-
ning. There was a blank to be filled in, and
filled in it must be, somehow or another, be-
fore the trial commenced.
His first act on reaching home was to
write out a true and complete record of his
doings since he had left London. This done
he consulted the memoranda he had received
from the representative of Messrs. Kosman,
Constantinopolus & Co., in Paris, and then
set off by train to the little town of Staines.
From Staines to the charming little village of
Laleham is a comparatively short and a most
charming walk. It was almost mid-day by
the time he reached the village and began to
look about him for Laburnum Cottage.
When he discovered it it proved to be a
pretty little thatched building standing in a
garden which in summer would be bright
with hollyhocks, nasturtiums and other home-
ly flowers. A card in the window proclaimed
the fact that apartments could be had within,


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDs 271
but at that particular season of the year this
announcement would be little likely to attract
attention. Pushing open the gate, Burrell
made his way up the garden path to the neat
little porch where he gave a smart rat-tat
with his stick upon the door. The sound
had scarcely died away before it was opened
to him by a stout, matronly person, dressed
in black, and wearing a cap and a neat white
apron.
“Mrs. Raikes?” asked Burrell, to make
sure she was the person he desired to see.
“That is my name, sir,” said the woman.
“Perhaps you will tell me what I can do for
you.”
“I want you to give me some informa-
tion,” Burrell answered. “I have come
down from London on purpose to see you.”
“From London, sir,” she exclaimed, as
if that were rather a remarkable circumstance.
“Will you be pleased to step inside?” So
saying, she held the door open for him to
enter. He did so to find himself in a neat
little sitting room, unostentatiously yet com-
fortably furnished. Three cases of stuffed
birds decorated the walls, together with some
pictures on religious subjects, a bookcase,
the latter scantily furnished, and last, but not


272 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
least, a Chippendale sofa, and two or three
chairs that would not have disgraced a ducal
drawing-room.
“Kindly take a seat, sir,” said Mrs.
Raikes, dusting one of the aforementioned
chairs with her apron as she spoke. “If it’s
apartments you want I am quite sure I can
satisfy you. Of course it's a bad season of
the year, but at the end of the month we shall
begin to fill up. There's some splendid boat-
ing on the river, as perhaps you know, and
at night, when the houseboats are all lit up,
well, it’s quite lively.”
Her desire to impress him with the gale-
ties of the place was almost pathetic, and Bur-
rell felt that he was acting meanly in permit-
ting her to go on, without acquainting her
with the real object of his visit.
“I am sorry to say that I am not in
search of lodgings,” he said. “My business
is of an altogether different nature. In the
first place, I think I ought to tell you that I
am a detective.” -
“A detective?” she cried in horror.
“Lor', I do hope, sir, there's nothing
wrong?”
“Not so far as you are concerned, you
may be sure,” he answered. “I have come


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 273
down here to make some inquiries regarding
a gentleman who was known to be staying in
your house some time back. His name was
Fensden.”
The woman shook her head.
“I haven't had a gentleman in my house
of that name,” she answered. “In fact, the
only gentleman I have had since the be-
ginning of the year was a Mr. Onslow.
The name of Fensclen I don’t remember
at all.”
Burrell consulted his pocket-book before
he went further.
“And yet the information I received was
most complete,” he continued. “Victor
Fensden, Esq., 9% George Onslow, Labur-
num Cottage, Laleham-on-Thames. There
couldn’t be anything plainer than that, could
there?”
“It seems all right, sir,” said the woman.
“There is only one Laburnum Cottage, and
Mr. Onslow was certainly staying with us.
He had his wife with him, a sweet young
thing, which was more than could be said
of the gentleman, I can assure you.”
It was plain from this that she and Mr.
Onslow had not been on the best of terms.
Burrell took from his pocket the photograph


274 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
of Fensden, and handed it to her. He
was beginning to have an inkling of the
truth.
“Is that the likeness of Fensden or of Mr.
Onslow?” he inquired.
“Mr. Onslow, sir, to be sure,” she replied,
“ and a very good one of him it is too. I
hope he's not a friend of yours, because I
couldn't abear him. The way he treated his
poor foreign wife of his was enough to make
an honest woman's blood boil.”
“So he had a foreign wife, had he?” said
Burrell. “That's interesting. Tell me all
you can about him.” -
“There's not much to be told, sir, except
about his bullying and nagging that poor
young thing. She was a foreigner, as I have
just said, but as nice a young lady as ever
stepped in at my door. When they first
came she told me that Mr. Onslow was an
artist, and that they wanted to be quiet and
away from London. They didn’t mind put-
ting up with the roughness of things, she
said, so long as they could be quiet. Well,
sir, they had this room and the bedroom
above, and for the first few days everything
went as smooth and as nice as could be.
Then I noticed that she took to crying, and


278 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
had spoken so cross to his wife, and she, poor
dear, was upstairs crying, and I noticed that
he was writing a telegram. Presently he
calls to me. “Mrs. Raikes,’ said he, ‘want
to send a telegram at once, who can take it
for me?’ ‘There's Mrs. Hawkins's little boy
next door, sir,’ says I, “he's taken messages
for gentlemen I’ve had in the house before
now, and always done it very well. I saw
him playing in the field at the back of the
house only this minute.” ‘’Call him in to me,
then,’ says he, ‘and he shall have sixpence for
his trouble.’ I called the lad in, and Mr. On-
slow gave him the message, and then off he
went with it, but not so fast but that I was
able to run across to the corner of the field at
the back there, and catch him on the road.
“Tommy,' I said, ‘let me have a look at that
telegram.’ He was a good little boy, and
handed it over to me without a word. It
was addressed to ‘Montgomery, 13 Bridge-
worth Road, Richmond.’ There was no
other name to it, and the only other word was
‘yes.” It didn't seem to me that there was
anything out of the common about it, and so
I thought no more of it, until you spoke of
his having letters just now.”
“I think I'll make a note of the address


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 279
in case it should be useful,” said Burrell.
“And now I'll be off, thanking you again,
Mrs. Raikes, for the information you have
given me.”
On leaving the cottage he walked back
to Staines, caught a train to London, and has-
tened to his house. Later on he made his
way to Euston Station. Another twenty
hours elapsed before he was able to acquire
the information he wanted there—but he had
the satisfaction of knowing, when he had ob-
tained it, that there remained now only one
link to be forged, and then the chain of evi-
dence would be complete. That link was
forged at Richmond, and next day he handed
in his report to the astonished Codey.
“Good heavens, Burrell,” said that astute
gentleman, “this is as marvellous as it is hor-
rible. What do you think?”
“I think, sir, that we shall be able to
prove that Mr. Henderson is innocent.”
At last, after all the weary waiting, the
great day arrived. The Sessions had com-
menced at the Old Bailey. For two or three
days prior to this, Godfrey had been busy
with his solicitor and his counsel. It was
not, however, until the afternoon before the


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 281
“But why can not it be settled at once?
Why must it be the day after to-morrow? It
is cruel to keep me in suspense!”
“Don’t you understand that we can not
bring forward our witnesses until the proper
moment arrives?” said the lawyer. “The
English law has its idiosyncrasies, and even
in a case of life and death, the formalities
must be observed. There is one thing, how-
ever, I can promise you; that is, that when
the truth comes out, it will be admitted that
such a sensation has not been caused in a
Court of Justice before.”
And with this assurance, meagre as it was,
Godfrey had perforce to be content.


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 283
his eyes when he entered the Court—the
judge and the sheriffs upon the Bench, the
jurymen seated in their box, the rows of
counsel, and the line upon line of eager-eyed
spectators. When Godfrey made his appear-
ance in the dock a sudden silence fell upon
the Court. The Clerk of Arraigns rose and
read over the charge preferred against him,
namely, of murdering one Teresina Cardi,
and this done he was called upon in the usual
manner to plead. Advancing to the front of
the dock Godfrey looked straight before him
and said, in a calm, strong voice: “ Not
guilty, my lord.” The jury were then sworn,
and as soon as this important business had
been completed the counsel for the prosecu-
tion rose and told the story of the crime. He
described the engagement of the dead woman
by the prisoner, his employment of her for
some considerable time, and then his hasty
departure for the Continent. It would be
shown that he had received a letter from her
while in Egypt, and that almost immediately
afterward he had returned to Naples. In the
latter city he had invited her to dine with
him, and had taken her to the Opera after-
ward. He commented upon the fact that the
prisoner had voluntarily admitted to the po-


284 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
lice authorities that he had endeavoured to
induce her to return to England. At that
time, however, it must be borne in mind that
he had not met the lady he now desired to
make his wife. Whether he had seen any-
thing of the deceased, prior to their meeting
in the Strand, it was as yet impossible to say.
The fact, however, remained that his engage-
ment to the lady in the country was ultimate-
ly announced. Despite that fact, only ten
days before the wedding was to take place,
he was known to have met the deceased wom-
an at midnight, and had taken her to her
home in Burford Street, leading out of the
Tottenham Court Road. By the medical evi-
dence he would presently call, he would prove
that less than half-an-hour afterward she was
brutally murdered. Before half-past twelve,
that is to say, within an hour of the cabman
picking them up in the Strand, he would
prove that the prisoner returned to his Hotel
in Piccadilly, very white and agitated, and
had called for brandy. Since his arrest, an
exhaustive search had been made at his resi-
dence, with the result that a blood-stained
knife, which had been identified as having
been purchased by the prisoner in Cairo, had
been discovered hidden behind a bookcase in


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 285
his studio. As for the motive of the crime
he would point out that the deceased woman
wore a wedding ring, that she was known to
entertain a great affection for the prisoner,
and that the latter was about to be married to
another lady. What was more probable than
that he should wish to have the other woman
out of the way before he could do so? That
was certainly only a conjecture, but it was
one that carried a large amount of probability
with it. He would now proceed to call his
witnesses. -
The first witness called was the proprietor
of the lodging-house, who had identified the
body. He was followed by the German
cabinet-maker, who had made the first and
most important discovery. The police offi-
cer, who had been called in when the door
had been opened, followed next, succeeded
by the doctor who had made the post-mortem
examination. The question of identity and
discovery having been settled, what the coun-
sel next proposed to do was to connect the
prisoner with the crime. The cabman who
had picked them up in the Strand and had
driven them to Burford Street, was called,
and the policeman who had seen them talking
together on the pavement there. Victor
I9


286 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
Fensden next deposed as to the affection the
deceased had entertained for the prisoner,
and the efforts he had made to induce the lat-
ter to give her up. He described Godfrey's
receipt of the letter from Teresina when on
the Nile, and stated that the prisoner had said
nothing to him concerning his intention to
visit the woman in Naples. His next meet-
ing with the prisoner was at the Mahl Stick
Club, where he had noticed a reluctance on
his part to refer to his association with the
woman in the past. This was accentuated on
the following Saturday at the prisoner's resi-
dence in Midlandshire. He recognised the
knife produced, and recollected the circum-
stances under which it had been purchased
by the prisoner. This concluded Fensden's
evidence, and he accordingly sat down.
Various other unimportant witnesses fol-
lowed, and then the case was adjourned for
the day.
Wrapped in suspense, Godfrey was driven
back to the jail to turn the evidence over
and over in his mind all night long. What-
ever trust he might place in Burrell and his
discoveries, it was quite certain that another
twenty-four hours would elapse before his de-
liverance could be expected. Once more he


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 287
scarcely slept. The various events connected
with the trial thronged his brain with mer-
ciless reiteration. With phonographic dis-
tinctness he could recall almost every word
that was said. He could see the judge upon
the Bench making his notes with pitiless ex-
actness, the various counsel in the well of the
Court whispering together, the importance
of the jury, and the self-sufficiency of the
Court servants. Yet he had Codey's assur-
ance that all was to be put right in the end,
and with this knowledge he was perforce
compelled to be content.
At the same hour as on the previous day
he was ordered to prepare himself for his
journey to the Court. The evidence already
given against him was so incriminating that
the officials of the jail felt sure that his
condemnation was assured. They already
looked upon him as a dead man, and mar-
velled among themselves that he could carry
himself with so much assurance.
Once more the Court was crowded.
Fashionable London felt that the end of one
of the most interesting cases of late years was
drawing near, and it was anxious not to lose
an opportunity of witnessing the dénouement
of the tragedy.


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 289
the defence arranged his gown and assumed
an even more important air. It was evident
that something was about to happen. A
moment later Victor Fensden was recalled.
“I am anxious, Mr. Fensden,” said the
counsel, “to ask you a question regarding
your return from the Continent. You have
already told the jury that you returned on the
morning of the murder. Am I to understand
that that was really so?”
“I arrived on Thursday, the 15th,” said
Victor, and a close observer would have no-
ticed that he shifted uneasily on his feet as he
gave the answer.
“I should be glad also to have your re-
peated assurance that, from the moment you
saw the prisoner purchase that knife in Cairo,
you did not behold it again until it was
handed you at the Magistrate's Court?”
“That also is quite true,” said Victor,
who by this time was more at his ease.
“That is all I want to ask you. You
may sit down,” said the counsel, “Call Si-
mon Updale.” **
In response to the summons, a short,
stout man, who was the possessor of a fiery
beard and the reddest hair ever seen on a hu-
man being, made his appearance and took up


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 293
When this witness had finished his tale
Mr. Rolland said: “Call Jacob Burrell.”
On hearing this a stir ran through the
Court. The famous detective was well
known to all the officials within the building,
and they, in the light of this new discovery
and the knowledge that this individual had
taken up the prisoner's case, began to regard
the matter in a somewhat different light.
There was a slight flicker of a smile upon the
austere countenance of the judge when the
counsel asked the detective his name.
“Jacob Burrell,” was the reply.
“I understand,” went on the counsel,
“that you were instructed by my friend, the
solicitor for the defence, to make an investi-
gation into this case. In the course of that
investigation did you visit Naples?”
“I did,” the other replied.
“And what did you discover there?”
“I found that the witness Fensilen, al-
though he has denied the matter on oath, was
in Naples three weeks after the prisoner
passed through on his way to England.”
The counsel here informed the jury that
five affidavits to this effect would be pro-
duced and read. Addressing the witness
once more he said:


294 THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS
“Are you aware that the witness Fens-
den spent the greater part of his time in
Naples in the company of the deceased
woman?”
“I found that to be the case. On Febru-
ary 3rd they left Naples together for Vienna,
stayed together at the Hotel National, in the
Râarntner Strasse, and were married on the
26th of that month at the Church at Funf-
haus, in the Gurtel Strasse. The wedding-
ring, which was still upon the left hand when
it was sent to the prisoner, was purchased at
the shop of Messrs. Radler & Hass, in the
Kohlmarkt.”
“The head of that firm is now in Court,”
said Mr. Rolland, “and will give his evi-
dence. Call Herr Radler.”
Herr Radler thereupon entered the box
which Burrell had vacated, and stated that he
well remembered selling the ring in question
to an Englishman who was accompanied by
a beautiful Italian lady. The gentleman he
recognised as the witness Fensden, and from
the photograph, that had been shown to
him of the dead woman, he was able to
swear that it was for her the ring was pur-
chased.
Victor Fensden, at this point, sprang to


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 297
happy together, and she knew that the man
treated the woman cruelly. Sometimes he
was away for a couple of days, and one day
he disappeared altogether without paying for
anything they had had while in the house,
and leaving his wife totally unprovided for.
She had heard the present case talked about,
but had not associated the victim with the
Mrs. Onslow who had occupied rooms at her
cottage.
“I have two more witnesses to call,” said
Mr. Rolland, when Mrs. Raikes had stepped
down. “Then, my lord, I shall have com-
pleted my case. Call Mrs. Wilhelmina Mont-
gomery.”
A tall, handsome woman, fashionably at-
tired, stepped into the witness-box and took
the oath. In response to the question put
her by the counsel for the defence, she stated
that her name was Wilhelmina Montgomery,
and that she was the widow of George Mont-
gomery, late of Sheffield. “I live at No. 13,
Bridgeworth Road, Richmond,” she contin-
ued. “I first met the witness, Victor Fens-
den, at Baden, while travelling with some
friends, in December last. We became very
intimate, and, when he returned to England
early in March, he called upon me at my


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 299
perhaps half-past one, when he returned.
On the Saturday following he left me to go
down to Midlandshire to pay a visit to an old
friend, he said, who was about to be married.
Before he went he once more pressed me for
an early marriage, suggesting, knowing that I
am fond of travelling, that we should imme-
diately set off for a long trip round the world.”
The box which had contained the hands
was then handed to her, and she was asked if
she recognised it.
“Yes,” she answered immediately. “If
you look underneath I think you will find a
large inkstain. (This proved to be the case.)
I brought some things in it from Vienna.
How Mr. Fensden obtained possession of it,
however, I do not know.” -
The counsel for the prosecution having
no questions to ask, the witness was allowed
to stand down.
“Call Joseph Hodder,” said Mr. Rolland,
and, to Godfrey's amazement, one of his own
under-gardeners entered the box. Having
taken the oath, he stated, in reply to the
counsel's question, that, on the Sunday fol-
lowing the murder, it was his duty to attend
to the stoking of the fires of the various con-
servatories at the Hall. He knew that his


THE MYSTERY OF THE CLASPED HANDS 303
make it known to you that a Higher Power
than that I represent has intervened, and the
wretched man, who has caused all this misery
and suffering, has been suddenly called to
appear before a greater Tribunal. May God
have mercy upon his soul!”
Then the Court was cleared, and Godfrey
found himself shaking hands with Sir Vivian
and the men who had worked so hard to
prove his innocence. When he had thanked
them from the very bottom of his heart, Sir
Vivian took his arm. -
“Come away now, come away,” said the
old gentleman. “There are other people
waiting to welcome you.”
Seizing Godfrey by the arm, he hurried
him out into the street to a cab which was
waiting there. Ten minutes later he was
locked in his mother's arms.
“O Godfrey,” said Molly, as he embraced
her in her turn, “I knew that God would
send you back to me!”
A week later Godfrey and Molly were
married by special license, and left England
the same day for the South of France. They
are now back again at the Hall, and as happy
as two young people could well expect to be.


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Ton.
30. Lace. By P. LINDAU.
30}. The Black Poodle. By F. ANstEY.
31. American Coin. By the author of
Aristocracy.
32. Won by Waiting. By E. LYALL.
33. The Story of Helen Davenant. By
W. FAN.E.
34. The * of Her Countenance. By
H. H. Boy ESEN.
35. Mistress Beatrice Cope. By M. E.
LE CLERC.
26. The Knight-Errant. By E. LYALL.
37. In the Golden Days. By E LYALL.
38. Giraldi. By R. G. DERINg.
º
39. A Hardy Worseman. By E. LYALL;
40. The Romance of Jenny Harlowe, and
Sketches of Maritime Life. By W.
C. RUSSELL.
41. Passion's Slave. By R. AsHE-KING.
42. The Awakening of Mary Fenwick.
By B. WHITBY.
43. Countess Loreley. By R. MENGER.
44. Blind Love. By W. Collins.
45. The Dean's Daughter. By S. F. F.
WEITCH.
46. Countess Irene. By J. FogFRTY.
47. Robert Browning's Principal Short-
e?" A ſoºns.
48. Frozen Hearts. By G. W. APPLE-
Ton.
49. Djambek the Georgian. By A. G.
Von SUTTN.E.R.
50. The Craze of Christian Engelhart.
By H. F. DARNELL.
51. Lal. By W. A. HAMMOND, M. D.
52. Aline. By H. GRéville.
53. Joost Avelingh. By M. MAARTENs.
54. Katy of Catoctin. By G. A. Town-
senio.
55. Throckmorton. By M. E. SEAwÉLL;
56. Expatriation. By the author of
stocracy.
57. “ſº Hampstead. By T. S.
Artwis.
58. Dmitri. By F. W. BAIN, M.A.
59. Part of the ty. By B. WHITBY.
60. Bismarck in Private Life. By a
Fellow-Student.
61. In Low Relief. By M. Roberts.
62. Th; Canadians of Old. By P
- as PE.
63. A ; of Low Degree. By L. A.
Ng. *
Arttered Dovecote. By G. M.
- *FENN.
65. The Nugents of Carriconna. By T.
HoPKINs.
66. A Sensitive Plant. By E. and D.
GERARD.
67. Doña Luz. By J. VALERA. Trans-
lated by Mrs. M. J. SERRANo.
68. Pepita Ximenez. By J. WALERA.
ranslated by Mrs. M. J. SER-
RANo.
69. The Primes_and their Neighbors.
By R. M. Johnston.
70. The Iron Game. By H. F. KEENAN.
71. Stories of Old New Spain. By T.
A. JANVIER.
72. The Maid of Honor. By Hon. L.
WINGTIELD.
73. In the Heart of the Storm. By M.
GRAY.
74. Consequences. By E. CASTLE.


187. In the Day of Adversity. By J.
188.
189.
190.
191.
192.
193.
194.
195.
196.
197.
198.
. A Spotless Reputation.
. The Sun of Saratoga.
217.
218.
BLOUNDELLE-BURTON.
Mistress Dorothy Marvin. By J. C.
SNAITH.
A Flash of Summer. By Mrs. W.
K. CLIFFORD.
The Dancer in Yellow. By W. E.
NORRIS.
The Chronicles of Martin Hewitt.
By A. MoRRIson.
By Mrs.
A Winning Hazard.
ALEXANDER.
The Picture of Las Cruces. By C,
REID.
The Madonna of a Day. By L.
DOUGALL.
The Riddle Ring. By J. McCAR-
THY.
A Humble Enterprise. By A. CAM-
BRIDGE.
Dr. Nikola. By G. BoothBY.
An Outcast of the Islands. By J.
CoNRAD
By C. BRAY.
. The King's Fºnº
. Denounced. By J. BLou NDELLE-
BURTON.
A Court Intrigue. By B. THoMP-
son.
. The Idol-Maker. By A. SERGEANT.
. The Intriguers.
. Master Ardick, Buccaneer.
By J. D. BARRY.
By F.
H. CostELLO.
With Fortune Made. By V. CHER-
Buliez.
. Fellow Travellers. By G. TrAVERs.
McLeod of the Camerons. By M.
HAMILTON.
. The Career of Candida. By G.
PASTON.
Arrested. By E. STUART.
Tatterley. By T. GALLoN.
. A Pinchbeck Goddess... By Mrs. J.
M. FLEMING (A. M. Kipling).
. Perfection City. By Mrs. º,
y D.
GERARD.
. A Galahad of the Creeks. By S. L.
YEATS.
. The Beautiful White Devil. By G.
BoothBY.
By J. A.
By J. C.
By W. E.
ALTs HELER.
Fierceheart, the Soldier.
SNAITH.
Marietta's Marriage.
Norris.
219. Dear Faustina. By R. BRoughTon.
220. Wºlma. By Mrs. CAMPBELL-PRAED.
221
APPLETONS TOWN AND COUNTRY LIBRARY. —(Continued.)
152.
153.
154.
155.
156.
157.
158.
159.
160.
161.
162.
163.
164.
165.
166.
167.
168.
169.
170.
171.
172.
The Trail of the Sword. By G.
PARKER.
A Mild Barbarian. By E. FAw-
CETT.
The God in the Car. By A.
HoPE. -
Children of Circumstance. By Mrs.
M. CAFFYN.
At the Gate of Samaria. By W. J.
LOCKE.
The Justification of Andrew Le-
brun. By F. BARRETT.
Dust and Laurels. By M. L. PEN-
DErted.
The Good Ship Mohock. By W. C.
RUSSELL.
Noémi. By S. BARING-Gould.
The Honour of Savelli. By S. L.
YEATs.
Kitty's Engagement. By F. WAR.
DEN.
The Mermaid. By L. Doug ALL.
An Arranged Marriage. By D.
GERARD.
Eve's Ransom. By G. GIssing.
The Marriage of Esther. By G.
BoothBY.
Fidelis. By A. CAMBRIDGE.
Into the Highways and Hedges. By
E. F. MontRf.sort.
The Vengeance of James Vansittart.
By Mrs. J. H. NEEDELL.
A Study in Prejudices. By G.
PASTON. -
The Mistress of Quest. By A. SER-
GE Ant.
In the Year of Jubilee. By G. GIs-
sing.
In Old New England. By H.
173.
BUTTERworTH.
174. Mrs. Musgrave—and Her Husband.
By R. MARSH.
175. Not Counting the Cost. By TAs.M.A.
176. Out of Due Season. By A. SER-
GEANT.
177. Scylla or Charybdis A By R.
BROUGHTON.
178. In Defiance of the King. By C. C.
HOTCHKISS.
179. A Bid for Fortune. By G.
BoothBY.
180. The King of Andaman. By J. M.
COBBAN.
181. Mrs. Tregaskiss. By Mrs. CAMP-
182.
183.
184.
185.
186.
BELL-PRAED.
The Desire of the Moth. By C.
WANE.
A Self-Denying Ordinance. By M.
HAMILTON.
Successors to the Title. By Mrs. L.
B. WALFORD.
The Lost Stradivarius. By J. M.
FALKNER.
The Wrong Man. By D. GERARD.
. The Folly of Pen Harrington.
By
J. STURGIs.
222. A Colonial Free-Lance. By C. C.
HOTCHKISS.
223. His Majesty's Greatest Subject. By
S. S. THoRBURN.


ADA cambridge's novels.
Each, 12mo, cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cents.
Path and Goal.
This latest book shows the constant human interest which characterizes
the work of this sympathetic and charming writer. There is an entertaining
plot, and the backgrounds of the varying scenes of action are sketched most
vividly.
Materfamilias.
“The story is fragrant with the breath of farms, the aroma of the salt sea,
and the even sweeter essence that exhales from the homely virtues, practiced
amid simple surroundings, where family ties are strong, and where love, loyal
and true, reigns as queen.”—Philadelphia Item.
A Humble Enterprise.
“A restful, sympathetic, domestic story, full of tender pathos, excellent
character drawing, and genuine, lovable human nature—a story to be read, not
once, but again and again.”—London Daily Mail.
Fidelis.
“The original flavor of Ada Cambridge is not lost but enriched by being
ingrafted on a sturdy stock. Her pictures of Australia and of rural England are
as attractive as ever, her story better than ever.”—New York Evening Post.
My Guardian.
“A story which will, from first to last, enlist the sympathies of the reader
by its simplicity of style and fresh, genuine feeling. . . . The author is au fait
at the delineation of character.”—Boston Transcript.
The Three Miss Kings.
“An exceedingly strong novel. It is an Australian story, teeming with a
certain calmness of emotional power that finds expression in a continual outflow
of living thought and feeling.”—Boston Times.
Not All in Vain.
“A worthy companion to the best of the author's former efforts, and in
some respects superior to any of them.”—Detroit Free Press.
A Marriage Ceremony.
“Highly original in conception, its action graceful though rapid, and its
characters sparkling with that life and sprightliness that have made their author
rank as a peer of delineators.”—Baltimore American.
A Little Minx.
“A thoroughly charming novel, which is just the finest bit of work its
author has yet accomplished.”—Baltimore American.
D. A P P L E TO N AND C O M P A NY, N E W YORK.


A NEW HISTORICAL ROMANCE.
Betsy Ross.
A Romance of the Flag. By CHAUNCEY C. Hotchkiss, author
of “In Defiance of the King,” etc. 12mo. Cloth, $1.5o.
“Betsy Ross” is a historical romance based upon the story
of the maker of the first official American flag. Mrs. Ross was
a charming young widow of but little more than twenty-three
when she was commissioned to make the flag from a design sub-
mitted to her by Washington. Her husband had been killed by
an accident at the Philadelphia arsenal within a few months after
his marriage.
The romance which the author has woven around the origin
of our flag will quicken the pulse of every reader by the wealth of
striking characters and dramatic incidents, and the absorbing interest
of the plot. History has furnished a motive which has been
curiously neglected in fiction, and the picturesque figures of the
time, sea-rangers and Quakers, redcoats and Continental soldiers,
and even Washington himself, have to do with the development of
a strange and thrilling story wherein Betsy Ross takes the leading
part. The ancient tavern, the home of the Philadelphia merchant,
the flag-maker’s little shop, and the quaint and charming life of the
time, are shown as the background of a series of swift incidents
which hold the reader's attention. “Betsy Ross” is a book to
be read, and the reader will recommend it.
The Betsy Ross of history was a singularly bright and win-
some woman, and intensely patriotic. Mr. Hotchkiss's story has
been confined to the romantic days of her early womanhood.
The house in which the flag was completed, and in and about
which most of the action of the novel takes place, still stands on
Arch Street, Philadelphia, and the attempt to preserve it as one
of the shrines connected with American history is meeting with
deserved success. Mrs. Ross (afterward Mrs. Claypoole) died
at the great age of ninety-three, and her remains lie in Mount
Moriah Cemetery.
D. A P P L E T O N A N D C O M P A NY, N E W YOR K.