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Y wFALSE PRETENCES;:
OR,
14 Ih $ienmma of[ 'otman anox.
: A O:BIIRISTShxAS S TOR?2.
By AnTHrn DAVIS,
ii uthor of " The Glitter of 3old," " On the Edge of a Precipice," &o.
OHAPTER 1.
A FATAL QUARREL.
It was an intensely hot night, about a
fortnight before Christmas. The bright
moonlight cast weird shadows from, the
tall gum trees athwart the sandy expanse,
by courtesy called the main street of the
;,~: townahip of Yanooc. The usual character
istics of a bush township - the inevitable
store, hotel, butcher's, and blacksmith's
facing the aforesaid strip of red sand,
with about thirty woodeon cottages with
galvanised iron roofs straggling irregularly
or a quarter of a mile on either side.
To-night the moonlight gave the ordinarily
common-place township a somewhat
romantic look, compared with the sordid
ness of its appearance in the full light of
the garish day. Even the iron roofs lost
their.. hideously-commercial appearance,
and gleamed in shining patches
against the sombre background of the
melancholy eucalypts. Outside the
hotel two kerosene lamps sufficed to
.show the recumbent forms of three or
four laboring men-carters and the like -
wiho were lolling lazily on the floor of the
verandah, finding it too hot even to talk
about racing, while on the water-trough
at the edge of the cart-way sat.several
others, apparently of a grade higher in
the social scale.
Said one. "Let's go down to Loons
Caron's wine shop, and have a hand at
cards."
"No fear," said another. "Too hot
to-night to play cards. Costs too much
at Caron's too."
"Well,' rejoined the first speaker, "if
you win you win more."
" Yes, and if you lose, you're broke,"
laughed his' companion. "' Anyhow, it's
too hot to be inside to-night."
During the conversation the glances of
the party had been directed with languid
interest towards the furthest house visible
to the right, where, at that distance, could
just be distinguished a light-the only
one apparent in the township, save at the
hotel.
Approaching it from the centre of the
township, Caron's dwelling appeared to
be similar to the dther cottages, but on
the spot, it could be seen that the build
ing extended considerably at. the rear,
where a large room was fitted up as a
wine saloon.
It was alirays a puzzle why Caron
should have ?opened a saloon of this
character in a place like Yanooc, with its
limited population. Still, there was a
large area of good country on every side,
and there were few, from squatters to
rouseabouts, in the district, who were not
patrons of Leon Caron. Not that the
'wine he sold had a greater charm than
the whisky or colonial beer of the hotel,
but because there was always the chance
of winning-or losing -at cards, and the
monotony of bush and station life knows
no variation so acceptable as the excite.
ment of a gamble. Some of those who
frequented his place shook their heads
dubiously when Caron's business was
under discussion, and hinted at more than
one squatter being under the financial
thumb of this suave furtive-eyed French.
man.
Whether wineseller, sharper, or usurer,
Caron gave no man a clue to his affairs,
and his customers just accepted his polite?
ness for what it was worth, and enjoyed
themselves in their own way-and paid
for it.
_ To-night there were only two persons in
the saloon. At a small table, at one end of
the room, they sat; a bottle of wine and
two glasses on. an adjacent chair, and a
little pile of gold on the table beside the
cards.
Caron was about forty, swarthy, lithe and
muscular, with a suggestion of the savage
inhissinisterexpression. -His companion,
Norman Lennox, was twenty-three, fair,
with a naturally frank, good-looking face,
and the physique of an athlete. But his
features were just now distorted with
intense passion, while Caron's grew more
evil in their expression momentarily.
The two men sat bolt upright, regarding
each other fiercely. Lennox, with his
right hand had gripped Caron's left, which
covered a card on the table. The situation
was obvious-Lennox had caught him
cheating.
A moment later Caron's wrist was given
a half twist, and the card lay revealed.
"You French - dog t" said. Lennox,
savagely.
The men rose to their feet. simul
taneously. Lennox still held Caron's
wrist in that vice like grip, and the
Frenchman winced. But it was at the
speech, not the pain.
His right hand slowly dropped to the
pocket of his sac coat. Lennox, never
taking his glance from those basilisk eyes,
now furiously ablaze, noted the movement
andi its import. The next instant there
was' a gleam of steel in the air, but the
other was too quick, and a terrifio hit on
the point of the jaw from his adversary's
left - had hurled Caron backward, the
gleam of the curious-bladed knife describ.
ing almost a circle in the air, as its owner
fell, striking his head sharply against the
iron-hooped edge of a quarter-cask of
wine standing- on the floor. Lennox
relaxed his aggressive attitude as Caron,
with a convulsive movement ands gasping
cry, grew strangely still. His eyes lost
their blaze, his face became pallid, and
from beneath the dark head came an
ominous crimson stream, that soaked
slowly into the sawdust on the floor.
A horrible fear seized Lennox. He
knelt beside the prostrate man, raising
his headi. He could fool the warn b!ood
trickling through his fingers. tie called
Caron by name, but there was no reply,
and an ashen hue overspread the French.
man's features.
A slight noise made Norman look up.
In the doorway stood a tall, well-dressed
man. He had a riding whip in one hand,
and with the other he was thoughtfully
stroking a well-trimmed black beard.
tHis natural surprise at the scene before
him was mingled with a curiously sardonic
expression, and his air was that of one
svho is rapidly solving a suddenly-pre
sented problem.
Lennox sprang to his feet with an
exclamation of relief. "Oh, Martin, I
am glad you're here." Quickly explaining
what had happened, he concluded, " Sec
if le's alive. I'm afraid I've killed hum.'
There was intense agony in his request,
but the inscrutable figure at the door did
not move. Still stroking his board deo
liberately, Dr Martin Shaw looked search.
ingly at the prone heap of humanity. at
the knife on the floor, the overturned
table, and the scattered sovereigns. Then
his gaze rested on the blood-stained hands
of, the man who was addressing him.
Without moving, he said coolly :
""It would be no loss if you had killed
him."
Lennox made an impatient movement,
as though he would have taken the doctor
by the arm and dragged him forward.
Without apparent intention, Shaw
evaded the grasp of those blood-stained
hands, and came nearer to the prostrate
man. He bent over the recumbent form,
felt the pulse, and laid his hand on
Caron's heart He gave aslow significant
shake'-of the head. Norman Lennox,
watching him closely, felt his blood chill
and his knees tremble. He sank into a
chair, wher he ecould not see the ghastly
face on the floor. Dr Shaw rose and
stood before him, looking down at his
white anguished features as one would
look at a rat in a trap.
In a dry, husky whisper Lennox asked :
" is-is he-- -? " He could not say
the word.
The doctor nodded. "His neck is
broken" he said
Normabi's head sank on his breast.
"Great :heavon I Martin, what shall I
do ? " he gasped.
There was an oppressive silence for a
minute or two, and then Shaw said
quietly: -
"Take my advice-get out of this.
You have no nerve. There is no one
hero but oirselves, for I saw Caron's man
down at the hotel as 1 came by. Did ho
see you hero ?"
"I saw nobody but Caron," was the
reply. "I; have only been here an
hour."
The doctor's eyes gleamed. "Then
get away. Go back to my place. Take
the first train in the morning to lMel
bourne, and book your passage by the
earliest steamer to London. Lose your
self there for awhile."
" What's the use ? If I change my
name, I shall meet somebody who knows
me."
"I don't say change your name," said
Shaw, in the same even tones. There is
no need. Follow me quickly in what I
say. or we shall be found here. Nobody
but myself knows you have been here.
If ,ou leave Yanooc in the morning and
take the train at Larana I will :give out
that you went away early this morning.
You have not been near the townshiF
these two days."
"And what about-that T' and Nor.
man shuddered, as he pointed to the
floor.
"Leave that to me," said the doctor.
"But I must have some money to work
with-to cover the retreat, as it were.
It's a big risk for me, but I'll do it for
you. You won't be heard of in the mat
ter, but get right out of the country, for
you'll betra yourself if you don't. Write
me a cheque for £500, and I'll hide the
whole traged.. Be quick, man, unless
you want to be hanged. Wash your
hands, and write me the cheq.'e."
Like a man in a mesmeric stupor, Len
nox obeyed him. The doctor stood
listening attentive y for the sound of
approaching footsteps, but as yet there
was no sound except the occasional chirp
of a cricket, or the droning hum of the
myriad mosquitoes attracted through the
open door by the light.
When Lennox handed him the cheque,
Shaw said :
" How about that £100 I owe you T"
"Don't mention it," said the other.
" If l ou can save me from this I shall owe
you everything."
'"Rely on me," said Shaw. "Don't
ask me how I'll manage. You'll know
some day but vanish from Australia as
quickly as you can. Don't change- your
name, mind, or that may provoke sues.
picion somewhere. You need not be
apprehensive, if you do as I tell you. Not
another word-go," and he urged him
through the door, closing it behind him.
Norman walked, as in a horrib e night.
mare, away from the township towards
Dr. Shaw's hoose, a mile and a half dis
tant.. He had been staying with him on
a visit for the past month. There would
be no one in the house, he knew, for the
doctor was a bachelor, and his domestic
arrangements were attended to by the
wife of a neighbor, who came in for an
hour or two each day. He reached his
room, flung himself on the bed. and gave
himself over to an agonizing retrospection
of the events of the night.
When the door closed behind Lennox,
Dr. Shaw turned away with a curious
smile upon his face. He stooped and
picked up the scattered coins, poqa$k.ii- -
them, with the slender astilettc.. 'U
which had dropped from, L thnn k-lf.
when he foll. He set it {Cr ar.o's hand
table. and then, tak'r the overturned
rolling up his 81F lea Li oo his eot . a
deal wit, h the .... u .. ? e, his cia tO
,o.= w of Caron.
e bered gav? ir , '
The Osn Op ' 0
borano was clear a c Cor
waters of the IYnoo. A dOugbhe
man Lennox beganth easeessrolofoe N
Albany was a hudre d treath freesy.
the wake of the vess el; en iltyic'5si m
he remembered this, gavemos a"{i ns, o
The morning was clear and' h Iof relie'
he felt the invigorating iflu I Ed
and sea lend a buoyancy tohisi'j ,of a
which he had been a stranger sli -,
horrible night at 'anooc. As he'eat th
deck, watching the ceaseless roll ofti

restless waters, he mentally reviewed the
main circumstances of his past life.
He recalled his earliest impressions of
the home in Queensland where he was
born-of his mother who died so early in
his career that she was but a shadowy
memory. He recalled the personality of
his father, the absolutely affectionless old
man who had the reputation of being -
next to Jimmy Tyson--the hardest man
in Queensland to drive a bargain with.
During the years of his son's boyhood,
Norman's father had allowed him to run
wild in the company of boundary riders.
rabbit trappers, and rough and ready
selectors, a neglect which had worked
for the lad's good, in providing him
with a stock of vigorous health, and
saving him from imbibing the polite
meannesses and vices of polished society.
When old Gordon Lennox did manifest
a special interest in his son, and order
him to repair to an educational institu
tion in Sydney to study, it was an un
pleasant command for the youth, but he
swallowed his distaste for the change,
and his educational attainments satisfied
his father, who, although he never be
stowed upon his son an affectionate
word, left him all he had amassed in the
twenty-five years of hard toil and privation
since landing, a poor man, in the colony.
Norman was only twenty-one when his
father died, and although he felt the loss
of the only relative he knew in the world,
yet the tie had never been one which
was calculated, if broken, to lacerate the
hearts of those whose lives it bound to
gether. Norman recalled the fact with a
feeling akin to self-reproach, which was
deepened as he recollected how, during
the past two years, he had done his best
to dissipate, in foolish or dubious pur
suits, the fortune his father had left to
him. That it was seriously diminished
he knew. Whatever real estate
his father • had left he had
converted into cash, having a de
termination not to be bothered by
business matters while having his fling.
This, he mused, was just as well, after all,
for it had enabled him to leave Australia
without dislocating a lot of business
* affairs.
Then he fell to thinking of Dr. Martin
Shaw He recalled his first meeting with
him in an adventuso where the doctor's
part in the performance impressed Nor
man with a high admiration of his cool
self-possession and splendid nerve. He
was a mysterious fellow. Norman had
heard queer things about him, but these
were libels, undoubtedly. Shaw had
proved himself a priceless friend to him.
Then Norman fell to wondering what the
doctor had done to hide the horrible
result of that unlucky blow. Day after
day, on his arrival in Melbourne, Nor
man had opened the morning paper in
fear and trembling, expecting to see, in
staring headlines, " Terrible Tragedy at
Yanooo. A Saloon Koeper Murdered !"
But not a line had appeared. Norman
1d only suppose that the doctor had
that Caron had mot his death by
falling, and, if Caron's em
od over-curious, that Shaw
`h his while to be silent.
was not so. Suppose
lidden for the time
Skg, may be-and
out. If sus
t fall on the
orman had full
. gness to screen him
receive of the doctor risk.
nd reputation to save a frienC
guilty. Norman shuddered al
Sgt of the word "guilty." H(
feel himself morally guilty. I
accident, but who would believ,
His very flight, he reflected witl
cfortable feeling, would belie hi
that he was innocent of murder
Then the old dread came back that h
S had felt while in Melbourne, and agail

when the steamer touched at Adelaide--i
the fear that he would be confronted by
a minion of the law with a warrant for e
his arrest. Still, he could banish the fear
for a while. The steamer called only cr
Capetown-but one stoppage before
reaching England; he had chosen this
route in order to avoid the numeroius
ports of call by the Suez Canal route. 1
During the few days he had been in
Melbourne, awaiting the departure of the I
steamer, he had remained quietly at his a
hotel, not desiring to meet any of his ac- I
quantances. Heo had met none of these, r
but he was somewhat perturbed when
booking his passage at the shipping offlice,
by a gentleman who claimed him as an
acquaintance.
He had just given his name to the i
clerk, when a gentleman standing near c
turned and held out his hand.
"Hlow are you, Mr Lennox? Going
away already. You've had a very short
stay in the colonies."
" You have the advantage of me,"
Norman had said, coldly declining the
proffered hand.
"I beg your pardon," said the other, I
frigidly, but regarding Norman with a
curious expression, which, in the then
state of his nerves, made him shiver.
When the gentleman went out of the
office into Flinders-lane, Norman asked
the clerk if he knew him.
" No," said he; "hle's a new arrival I
from India, I think. Came last week by
the British India Company's Rangoon. I
forget his name."
Norman recalled this incident. now,
and found himself wondering who the
man was, but speculation was futile.
Still the episode jarred on his nerves as
it had at the moment of its occurrence.
Norman recalled, too, the fact that this
was Christmas Eve. It was going to be a
wretched Christmas for him, hq thought.
He had blood upon his hands,"and, for E
aught he knew, a price upon his head, I
and he was an exile-a fugitire. The i
thought embittered his mind, and caused
him to hold aloof from the sociable com
bination of the other passengers in their I
preparations to make their Christmas at f
sea renueiiscent of the festive occasion in
the home life on shore, an attitude which
ihe maintained to a considerable extent all f
through the voyage.
On arriving at Capetown, and finding
no communication had been received
from Australia to intercept him as 1
" wanted," Norman's spirits rose.
During the long and quiet hours of the I
night, as he lay listening to the ceaseless
throb, throb, of the mighty engines, and
the monotonous swish of the water,
as the huge vessel drove through the
billows, he :could not escape from the i
melancholy recollection of the fatal result
of his folly ; and tile ghastly face of tie 1
dying Frenchman became visible again to
him in the darkness. It was often the
central feature of fearful dreams, crowded
with horror. But in the daylight, with 1
its bustle and activity, its panorama of
sea and sky, the glorious sense of free,
unrestricted motion, as the steamer rode
onward through the waves, these morbid
fancies vanished, and his youth and
strength asserted their power, and made
his pulses beat with renewed hopefulness.
And, passing from " tihe summer of the
world" into cooler latitudes, he braced his
nerves yet more tensely, and the wretched
past seemed as far distant as the shores
whence he had come.
But, with the first sight of English
soil- the picturesque Cornish headlands
--his depression returned. What if,
after all, lie had come this far only to
have the hand of the law clapped on his
ooshoulder, and to learin his first experience
Sof England in a felon's cell.
So strongly did this feeling actuate him,
that in spite of a longing to leave the
ship at Plymouth, lhe refrained from
going ashore No, he would go on to

;ondon, he reasoned. There he would
jiafer if he did land without interfer
inco, and even if the news of Caron's
Leath had been telegraphed to Scotlaind I
7ard, he would still have a few days
iberty on board the vessel ere she ]
ceached Gravesend.
When at length the steamer reached
Condon, and the exodus of passengers I
Segan, Norman lingered in his cabin, not 4
)ccause he was undesirous of losing him
self in the labyrinth of the modern
Babylon, but because he instinctively
ivoided the many strangers who had
:ome on board. Nor had he any heartto
vitness the cordial greetings of those who
were welcoming -friends and relatives i
Ifter their sojourn in lands on the other
ide of the world. He felt his own sense
)f loneliness sharply accentuated by
these demonstrations of welcome, and
they recalled the fact that at neither end
f the world could he expect a welcome;
For, although he had the means to do as
he pleased, he had no claim to the interest
.r affection of a solitary- being, and the
lisaster which had overtaken him two 1
months before had even cut him off from
tis friends and acquaintances.
When the confusion on deck had some
what abated, Norman came from below, I
md leaning over the rail took an in
crested glance at the shore. It was a clear
lay, a sharp frost had crisped the face of
the snow lying upon the ground, and the
wintry sun made the hulks lying in the
river and the distant bank of the Thames 1
,listen as with a miflion diamonds. A
ittle steamer was being loaded with pas
sengers and their luggage for conveyance
to Blackwall, and he watched this with
in absent-minded curiosity.
He was startled out of his reverie by
hearing a strange voice at his elbow :
"Mr Norman Lennox, I believe.`'
He felt himself turning icy cold, a sen
cation of faintness made him dizzy, and
so clutched the rail for support. This,
then, was the end of it all ? Nemesis had
vecrtaken him !
He.had not turned his head, but as he
seard his name spoken a second time, he
steadied himself by an effort, and turned
;o face the speaker.
He saw a stout, well-preserved man of
ifty or thereabouts a man evidently on
good terms with hiniself dressed with
freat care, from the patent-leather-boots
en his feet to the faultlessly glossy tall
rat, which he raised in acknowledgment
if Norman's mechanical salute. He
ooked like the proverbial English mer
:hant or banker, with iron-grey whiskers,
:ut in the orthodox mutton-chop style.
Fils lips had a pleasant smile which,
olmohow. was discounted by a foxy look
, his cold-grey eyes.
But Norman was not looking at him
low. The man was not alone. Imme
liately behind him was a lady, appa
ceotly about twenty years old, and
prettior than any girl Norman remem
bered to have ever seen before. She
was richly attired, her dainty filure set
Aff to advantage by the stylish fur cloak
she wore, and the coquettish Alpine hat
poised upon her shapely head. Her deep
blue eyes were fixed upon Norman with
a look of anxious curiosity.
At the sight of her a revulsion of
feeling set in, and Lennox felt the warm
blood, which a moment since had surged
to his heart, coursing again through his
veins. He felt bewildered. This, surely,
was not what he had dreaded.
" I see no have startled you," said
the gentleman. " You did not expect
anyone to meet you, I know. Allow-me
to introduce myself. My name is Carter
-Robert Carter, financier-an old friend
of your father's ; and this is my daughter,
MIiss Alice Cartem."
Norman mentally shook himself He
feared he was dreaming ; but the charm
ing smile of the lady, and the pressure of
the small hand withdrawn- from the muff

she was carrying, convinced him that he
was talking to real flesh and blood.
" But,":,said he, recovering himself a
little. " How did'you know I was coming
to England? I was unaware anyone
knew."
" Ah," said the other smiling, " that is
my little secret. But that must not
lessen in your mind the fact that we are
delighted to see you. And your present
want of knowledge of us must not pre.
vent you accepting our hospitality.
You have no very definite plans as yet,
I presume ?"
"Indeed, I have not," said Norman,
more puzzled than over. "But surely
there is some mistake ?"
"None whatever, I assure you," said
Mr Carter. "But see, the steamer is
nearly ready, and I have my carriage
waiting at Blackwell. We will talkas we
go."
Fgor a moment Lennox stood irresolute,
but as he looked from father to daughter,
he felt that he might as well yield to this
extraordinary request. Whatever might
transpire, he could not improve matters
by declining.
In a few minutes he had made the
necessary arrangements respecting his
luggage, and half an hour more saw him
seated beside Miss Garter, her father
occupying the opposite seat in a finely
appointed closed carriage drawn by a
pair of high-stepping horses.
Whi!e on the crowded steamer there
had been merely an interchange of com
mon-place remarks, but Norman was now
anxious to learn more of the situation in
which he found himself.
Mr Carter readily acquiesced
"This, of course, is your first visit to
England, Mr Lennox. I am a very old
friend of your fatlher's, and owe him a
debt of gratitude. It may not be known
to you, and you will pardon me for re
ferring to it, but he married against the
advice of his friends, and his own happi
ness was not enhanced thereby. I do not
wish to pain you by reference to this, and
having now spoken of it, I will never
again refer to it. But now that both your
parents are dead, I, knowing precisely
what your father's desires were, am anxious
that you should reciprocate the interest I
feel in you as the son of Gordon Lennox,
and do me the honor of considering me
your friend."
" I ant sure," replied his perplexed
listener, courteously, "that I shall
esteem the privilege."
"I am gratified," said Mr. Carter,
urbanely, "and now, if you don't mind,
we will leave reference to family affairs
for the present."
Norman bowed, but he could not re
frain from asking again :
" But how did you know I was coming
to England 1"
" Well,' said Mr Carter, reflectively,
" I may say this much. I learned from a
friend of mine, who is interested in your
welfare, that you had left Australia in
thle Chimborazo, and we came to claim
you as our guest."
Instantly Norman's mind reverted to
Dr. Shaw, and for a moment he flushed
at the recollection of that awful night at
Yanooo. But the next minute the musi
cal voice of his fair companion, addressing
him, diverted his thoughts.
The carriage drew up before a stately
mansion in Cadogan Square, and a few
minutes later Norman found himself in a
sumptuously furnished room,. evidently
prepared for his use. As the door closed
behind his host, he sat down in an easy
chair, and pressing his hands to his
temples, tried to think the curious prob
lem out.
It was no use. After an hour's quiet
reflection, he gave it up. He felt that
come what may, he must drift with the
fresh current that had set in in his
affairs. And throughout all his delibera
tions the sweet face of Alice Carter dwelt

with gentle insistence before his mental
:vision. -
CHAPTER III.
THE OliOWTII OF LOVE.
The dinner at Cadogan House that
evening was the most enjoyable meal
Norniau Lcnnox had ever partaken of. I
To one who had spent six weeks on ship
board, to say nothing of his idle days in
the colonies, the luxuries of. a
well-appointed table were thoroughly
acceptable, but these were minor points
in the category of Norman's eijoyment.
His host exerted himself to the utmost to
make his guest feel that he was completely
welcome, and in this effort he was ably
seconded by his daughter. If Norman I
thought hi r lovely when he saw her first,
She thought her superlatively charming
now. Her rich brown hair, in shining
coils, gave an increased charm to her face
and form ; her movements had the grace
and dignity which evidenced gentle birth
and culture, and when she spoke,
:Norman, who had hitherto cared but
little for the society of women, felt a
thrill of intoxication fill every fibre of his
being.
There were no other guests. The
family party was made up by the widowed
sister of Mr Carter, Mrs Hilliard, who
managed his household, and acted as
chaperone to Alice, who, Norman learned,
had only returned from France a year
previously, where she had been to com
* plete her education. Her motlher had
-'-died five years before.
When the gentlemen joined the ladies
in the drawing-room, Alice played and
sang for them. Her voice, a rich con
tralto, lent an added beauty to the s3nti
ment of the songs, and Norman sat
entranced, scarcely heeding the occasional
remarks of Mr Carter and his sister.
SThat night he scarcely slept The
change from the motion of the vessel,
with its monotonous chant of engine and
wave, to the stillness of the luxurious
room, was of itself sufficient to keep him
awake, but the excitement of this now
Strend in his affairs absolutely forbade
sleep.
SDuring the next few days he learned
more of his host. He was a city magnate,
the principal of the firm of Carter and
Carter, whoso financial operations dea't
Swith-speculations in every part of the
, .globe. Norman was aslhamed to confess
to himself that he had never heard of the
firm, as he listened to Mr Carter's
description of the magnitude of their
.operations. The elder man appeared to
lay special stress on this, and took Nor
man to see the city establishment with
the evident desire to impress his guest
with the idea of his solid financial standing,
Sa fact of which the houtie in Cadogan
Square was quite sufficient to convince
Lennox.
The days slipped rapidly by-halcyon
days they were to Norman, who by this
time had relegated the miserable memory
of the past into temporary oblivion. The
members of the family appeared to vie
Swith each other in making his stay plea
sant, and day by day he felt himself fall
ihg more desperately in love with Alice
Carter. Ho yielded weakly to the temp
tation, though, ever and anon, the sha
dow of the past would glide across his
pleasing thoughts, but, as he was daily in
her company, he doggedly refused to
think of anything but her charming per
sonality. Sometimes it puzzled him to
see the evident satisfaction her father
appeared to find in their companionship.
Such favor, Norman felt, could not have
been more freely vouchsafed had he
known him for years, but it was quite
palpablesuch was the case.
Three months passed, the winter had
gone, and the opening spring gave oppor
tunities for pleasant rides and drives, in
which the young people were thrown to

gether more than ever, and it was at thia
time that Norman became sensible tlat £
he was regarded with a deop'r
warmth of feeling by Alice. An increased
diffidence when they were alone, a I
variance of touch and tone, the thousand
and one indications of the presence of 1
unspoken affection, daily enlightenedi
Norman to the growing regard of the girl I
he loved for him. When this became
clearly apparent to him, he took himself
seriously to task, and, after a manvais
quart d'1hcure, resolved he would go
away. The dark shadow of the past be
came a funereal pall, under which his
dearest desires must be buried.
But Mr Carter would not hear of it.
He was particularly insistent, and added
that later on, when Norman had enjoyed
his leisure a little longer, there were cer
tain business matters to which he would
ask his attention. Norman did not quita
grasp the meaning of this, but forbore ta
question him, for on several prior occa
sions, when he had commenced to speak
of his father, or of his own prospects,
Mr'Carter had begged of him not to refer
to the matter just then, or had deftly
turned the conversation. And always
from such a colloquy Norman would
retire slightly dazed. And when lie men
tioned the idea of going away to Alice
she said nothing, but the look in her eyes
decided him to stay.
The friendship with the Carters intro
duced Norman into a select circle of Lon
don society, and a pleasurable round' of
gaiety of a subdued order gave him ample
opportunity of learning the ways of a
Sfashionable ~torld of which he had often
Sread, but, in his past days, had never
supposed he would be particularly inte
Srested in. It was intensely enjoyable ; it
was all so novel, and at times, to his vigo
I rous, practical mind, so amusing, and
Alice took a keen delight in listening to
his criticisms of the people they met and
the functions they attended.
I In the summer season they accepted,
Swith Mrs Hilliard, an invitation to Scar
i borough, to the seaside residence of a
r friend of Mr Carter's-a Mrs Noel. This
a lady had a hobby for keeping dogs, a
dozen or so of various breeds being scat
1 tered about the establishment. One of
, these animals was a splendid mastiff
3 called Nero. Norman, with an Austra
t lian's keen eye for a good animal, horso
0 or dog, took a great pleasure in watching
s this thoroughbred specimen, and his inte
a rest was a source of great satisfaction to
s its mistress.

It was the afternoon of a very hot day
in July, and th'e guests had dispersed in
various direction. Most of them were
on the Esplanade, listening to the music.
Alice, with Mrs Maitland, was walking
to and fro on the broad piazza facing the
sea, and Norman was standing at the
open French window facing the lawn,
and from which lie could just hear the
tones of Alice's voice as she talked witl
her aunt.
Below on the lawn was the mastiff
Nero. Norman was abstractedly watchin,
him, and wondered why the dog did not
lie in his favorite position on the cool
grass under the trees. With his head
down he was moving round and round in
slowly-widening circles, and giving vent
to shortangry snapping barks. Just then
a gardener came through the shrubbery
from the stables, carrying in his hand a
hay fork, with two steel prongs. The
man looked at the dog, then, leaving the
shrubbery, walked a little way across the
lawn.
Just then the dog lifted up his massive
head. Foam was dripping from his jaws,
and.his great eyes had a wolfish look.
The man dropped the fork and ran.
As he neared the house he called to
Norman :
" The dog's mad, sir ; I must get a gun
and shoot him. Shut the window."
Norman half closed the window as the

dog, attracted by the-flying gardener, t
came creeping after him. At that moment
Norman remembered that Alice and Mrs i
Hilliard were on the piazza outside. A
terrible fear seized him, and as the dog (
crept, tiger-like, into the shrubbery-path, 1
he sprang out into the garden, and snatch- i
ing up the fork the or te an had flung aside,
he turned toward the house.
Three steps led up to the piazza at the I
head of the path. Near the steps was.
Alice petrified with horror at the sight of
the huge beast, who had crept to the foot
of the steps and was contemplating al
spring upon the terror-stricken girl. Mrs i
Hilliard, at the far end of the piazza, was
vainly trying to open one of the windows.
With a bound Norman sprang to the
side of the crouching animal, and poising
the fork in both hands, drove it with all
his might, aiming it at the dog's head.
But the animal swerved, and instead of
the prongs piercing its head, they pinned
him to the ground, one on either side of
the neck.
Norman knew that his only salvation
now was to keep the brute there until
.help arrived. But the animal was power.
ful-doubly powerful in its madness, and
with its great back arched, its eyes
bulging, and every hair erect with fury, it
writhed and struggled to get free, while
Norman, his every muscle strained to its
utmost tension, forced the beast's head
down until the stout ashen handle of the
fork bent under the pressure.
What if it should break. It meant
death to all three-the most horrible of
all deaths, by a madness like that of the
poor brute at his feet.
Norman could feel his strength going.
The veins on his forehead seemed burst
ing with the exertion, a red mist swam
before his eyes, when a sudden explosion
rang in his ears-another-and then he
Iheard :
'.'Let go, sir -ho's done for."
Norman loosed the handle andstaggered
back. The gardener stood with a doubec
barrelled gun in his hands, and the dog
was in the throes of death.
Norman looked at Alice. She was still
standing, like a statue, at the head of the
steps. Her beautiful face was White as
marble, but her eyes had in them an
expression lie had never seen before, but
which made his pulses beat madly. She
held out her hands to him.
S" Norman," she cried, and the next
Smoment she had fainted in his arms.
CHAPTER IV.
DOCTOR MARTIN StHAW.
It was the latter end of October, and
London society was beginning to return
from the moors and the sea-side, from
Switzerland and the Riviera, and all
those delightful places whero its
msembers had taken refuge from the
Sdust and discomfort of the great city.
SThe Carters were back at Cadogan
House, but Norman was now located at a
i fashionable club, as he wa- now in the
Senviable position of the betrothed of the
t daughter of the house.
1 After the episode at Scarborough there
I was no 'pnssibility of evading the
i natural bonclusion, and the evident
t pleasure of Mr Carter, independently of
1 his heartfelt gratitude to Norman for his
brave act, made the course of true love
i run particularly smooth, as yet. The
3 engagement was three months old. and it
Swas arranged that the marriage should
i take place at Christmas. Already certain
necessary preparations were being made,
D and Norman yielded to the delirious ox
, citement of his now rold without a
thought or a care for anything that had
Shappened before.
o But with the extinction of the sunshine,
and the arrival of the dreary fogs of
n November, he began to suffer from
occasional fits of depression when he was
o alone. Perhapsit was the reaction from

the ecstas4 when he was in the presence
of his lndy-love; perhaps it was the
murky amosphero : but, whatever the
cause, hd was wretched at times, and he
could not help thinking that he was too
happy to last, and that this was a pre
monition of coming disaster.
One day he sat moodily smoking in his
ronm at the club, when with an apologetic
knock, the attendant announced a visitor.
Norman looked up.
It was Dr Martin Shaw !
The visitor stood in the open doorway,
a walking cane in one hand, and with the
other he thoughtfully stroked his beard.
There was something horribly reminiscent
in the attitude, as though it were cynically
premeditated, and with a whitening face
and a dull, heavy pain at the heart,
Norman saw the whole of that fatal scene
at Yanooc rise vividly before him. He
felt his present existence, with its refined
pleasures, its keen interest, its affection,
slipoing fromaround him. Unconsciously
a couplet from Eugene Aram slipped into
his mind -
"So wills the fierce avenging sprite,
Till blood for blood atones,"
and he shuddered. -This man, with his
saturnine face, and his sarcastic smile,
standing in the doorway so suddenly,
seemed to Norman's startled vision the
personification of the avenger. All this
passed through his mind like a flash.
"Why don't you say ' 1 am glad you've
come, lartin,' " said Shaw, and by the
sneering tone, more. than the iteration of
the words he so well remembered, Norman
knew that Dr Martin Shaw came as an
enemy.
He roused himself. "Come in, and
sit down. I never expected to see you
here."
Thie doctor took the proffered cigar,
and helped himself to a glass of whisky
from the decanter on the table.
"Probably not," he said. "Nor by
your manner should I suppose my
presence is particularly welcome to you.
Don't argue the matter," lie added, as
Norman made. a deprecating gesture.
"It will, perhaps, simplify matters if I
am plain with you. I am an unp'easant
reminder of that which you would rather
forget. Save for me, you appear to have
forgotten pretty easily. It is not yet
twelve months since you were a -
well, since you were flying from justice
possibly the hangman's rope-and now
you are a curled darling of aristocratic
society, a member of a select London
club, and engaged to be married to the
beautiful daughter of a wealthy city man.
And I -T have had the devil's own luck,
though I haven't murdered anybody-not
even a Chinaman-and as you onoe told
me if I got you out of the scrape you
would owe everything to me, I want you
to settle the debt."
" What do you want ? You are plain
-brutally p'ain," said Norman, wearily.
" I want a fresh start." said Shaw. I
want to do as you are doing now. I want
you to give me ten thousand pounds."
"Ten thousand pounds?" exclaimed
Norman. " Nonsense. Fifteen thousand
pounds is all I have."
" But you owe me everything," was the
sneering answer. " Anyhow, think it
over. I shall not leave London without
it-or-without you," and, rising, he
Sstood for a minute looking down on the
crushed figure in the chair, as he looked
at him once before in the saloon at
Yanooc, then turning on his heel, he left
Norman to his own reflections.
The next few days were days of torturo
to Norman. It was not the contomplatio fl :
of the unreasonable request of Dr. Shse
I that made him miserable. He would hl'1 iN
freely parted with every penny hli e i
Scould he have felt that never again "
the' accusing past rise up before'
L But he saw clearly that there 0 ,
i finality in this demand So .
Slived he would be liable aL'

And there was the agonising fear that r
there was some other who might know the I
secret, far Martin Shaw could scarcely i
have disposed of Caron's body alone.
A few days since how happy he had
been, and now how wretched he was. t
Alice, with the keen insight of love, noted I
the change, and anxiously rallied him e
about it. For her sake, he strove to t
banish his fears when in her presence, but
they returned tenfold when. he was I
alone.
One evening he arrived at Cadogan 1
House just before the dinner hour, and t
Mr Carter, drawing him aside into the I
library said : ]
"I have a little surprise for you to. f
night." a
Norman started. His nerves were (
getting unstrung. He dreaded any more t
surprises.
"What is it 1" he enquired. I
"An old friend of yours. He is here a
,to dinner." c
Norman's heart sank within him. I
There was only one man whom he could a
possibly think of in this connection, and t
to meet him here would truly be the
death's head at the feast.
He followed his host with the feelings 1
of a criminal going to his execution.
" Mr Lennox-Captain Leroy," said Mr I
Carter, and Norman saw before him a
bronzed and bearded man with a distinctly
military bearing.
The two men looked at each other for
a minute; and then the captain said,
quietly :
"There is some mistake Mr Carter.
This is not my friend, Mr Norman Len.
nox","
"That is my name, certainly," sail
Norman, " but I never saw you before to
my knowledge."
There was a dead silence for a minute
ar so. The two men looked curiously at
each other, but on the face of Mr Carter
was an expression of sudden alarm.
"You are joking," he gasped.
".Not at all," said Captain Leroy.
"This gentleman is wonderfully like my
friend, but it is not the Norman Lennox
I know."
" Good God 1" cried Carter, sinking in
to a chair. Then starting up he turned
fiercely to Norman:
" Are you not the son of Gordon Len.
nox ?"
"Certainly I am," answered Norman.
"Gordon Lennox, the banker, of
Aldergate, in the City of London V"
"No-as certainly not," retorted Nor.
man, on whom a sudden light began to
dawn. " My father waa Gordon Lennox,
of Brisbane, Queensland, who left Scot
land for Australia twenty-six years
since."
Carter's jaw dropped. His face was
ashen pale. "I see it now," he gasped.
"My friend was your father's cousin,"
and he slipped down, a prone heap on the
floor.
The two men looked at each other.
"There has been some terrible mistake
here," said Captain Leroy.
"There haa, indeed." bitterly replied
Norman. "Come with me to my club
and we will try to understand this mys
tery."
Norman rang the bell, and bade the
footman attend to his master, and, with
a brief message to Mrs Hilliard, they left
the house.
When they were seated in Norman's
room, he told the captain briefly his own
history, and how he became acquainted
with the Carters.
"Ieee it all clearly now," said the cap
tain. "Now let me explain. Old Gor
don Lennox, the banker, your father's
aousin, it appears, married a lady against
he wishes and advice of his friends.
Flaey quarrelled soon after the birth of
..heewoon, who like yourself was named
' had fei . She was an Anglo-Indian,
S-esessed of ample private

means, left her husband and returned to
India. It was there I became acquainted
with her and her son, with whom I was
very friendly. About two years ago she
died, and Norman made up his mind to
travel. Twelve months ago he went to
Australia, and I have not heard from him
since, until I learned from Mr Carter
that he was here. The rest you know."
After Captain Leroy had gone, Norman
made up his mind. He could see clearly
now. He could see the significance of the
brief conversation with the stranger at
the shipping office in Melbourne. He had
been mistaken then for the other Norman
Lennox. It was no use struggling against
fate. Nemesis was at his heels in the
shape of Dr. Shaw, and in the eyes of Mr
Carter he was little better than an impos.
tor. True, he had not deceived him;
Carter would never allow him to talk.of
his family, but the complication was there
all the same. If it were not for the stain
of blood on his hands he would marry
Alice in spite of all, but it was better he
should go. He would not link her fate to
that of a miserable wretch like himself.
He sat down and wrote a tender fare
well letter to Alice, and a brief note to
her father, and despatching these he or
dered a cab. Packing his portmanteau,
he drove to Euston Station and took the
express to Dover. The next day he was
in Paris.
He put up at a quiet hotel in the Rue
dela Roche, and for a day or two wandered.
aimlessly about, cursing his existence.
On the morning of the third day after
his arrival lie was sitting in his'room
speculating as to the wisdom of putting
an end to his life, when the waiter
knocked at the door.
" A gentleman to see you, monsieur."
"No, no," said Norman, 'I have no
acquaintance hero." .
"But," persisted the man, h'oe says
Mr Norman Lennox. Ho has observed
you enter. He does make no iistake."
" Then ask him his name," said Lennox
savagely.
The waiter returned with a bit of paste
board.
Norman took the card. As lie read it
he turned pale. It was as thoagh he had
seen a ghost.
That night Norman returned to Eng.
land, in company withhis visitor.
The next evening, he presented himself
Sat Cadogan House, Mr Carter, he
learned, was from home, and Miss Carter
was ill. Captain Leroy was there, and
Norman had a long interview with him.
At the close of the conversation, the
Captain said -
"'One other matter. Since you went
away, Mr Carter has received a visit from
San acquaintance of yours in Australia, a
Dr Martin Shaw, who, I understand, has
Smade some serious allegation against you,
Sthe purport of which is not clear, but it
seems evident that he desires to sell the
information to Mr Carter. He is coming
here again to-morrow morning."
And Norman determined that he would
I also be there
b That night lie wrote again to Alice and
.her father. To the latterhe merely said
that he intended to be present when Dr
e Shaw arrived.
h The next morning Mr Carter, Captain
tI Loroy, and Norman were seated in the
library at Cadogan House, when Dr
' Shaw was announced. On entering the
n room he was evidently disconcerted at
d seeing Norman there.
"You villain,' Norman burst out
i- wrathfully.
" You murderer," the doctor retorted,
a contemptuously.
it Captain Leroy touched the bell, and a
. man walked in.
f It was Leon Caron!
d A malignant look of diabolic hatred
, flashed across Shaw's face; the next
;e minute he had recovered his wonted self.

possession, and taking up his hat and cane,
he bowed mockingly, and left the room.
To Mr Carter and Captain Leroy this
was as so much pantomime, the full
significance of which they did not, until
later, comprehend. But when the outer
door closed upon the departing schemer,
Norman said
"I have some important, though I fear,
sad news for you, Mr Carter. It appears
that my namesake, the Norman Lennox
you supposed me to be, reached Australia
about the time I left. He spent some
months travelling about the colonies, un
til on a certain occasion, he met with a
serious, and as it proved a fatal accident.
He died in the Toowoomba Hospital,
and before his death, committed
to this gentleman, who was himself in the
hospital at the time, certain papers, which
he desired should be personally conveyed
to the firm of Carter and Carter. I met
iMr Caron in Paris, and learned of this
from him, and have hastened to bring
him to you.
Mr Carter took the packet of papers,
and slowly examined them. His hands
trembled, but when he laid them down,
his voice had a distinct note of cheerful
ness.
"This has taken a great load off my
mind," he said.
Of the rest there is not much to be
told. It appeared that when Dr. Shaw,
in order to extract more money from
Lennox, urged the latter to fly, he knew
Caron was not dead, and speedily brought
him round after Norman's departure.
After events showed that Shaw was the
cleverer gambler of the two, for he trans
ferred all Caron's ill-got gains to his own
pooket.
There was a fashionable wedding at
Cadogan House at Christmas, when Nor.
man Lennox and Alice Carter were made
man and wife.
It was not until after the marriage that
Norman learned what made his father-in
law so anxious to search out the son of his
old friend. Gordon Lennox, the banker,
was practically the owner of the house of
Carter and Carter, of the solvency of
which Alice's father was so fond of insist
ing. When Lennox died, he left the whole
of his fortune, some fifty thousand pomlds,
to the son whom he had scarcely seen.
The money was held in trust, the trustee
being Mr Carter. In order to prop up
the declining fortunes of the firm, Mr
Carter had used twenty-five thousand
pounds of this trust, money, and it was
fear of the discovery that made him so
desperately anxious to find young Norman
Lennox, and, if possible, to wed him to
his daughter. To this end he had caused
inquiries to be made, and had learned
that the young man had been heard of in
Melbourne, and later that he had sailed
for England in the Chimborazo. By the
death of the banker's son, the money re
verted to the next-of-kin, Alice's hus
band, and the legacy was a very satis
factory Christmas-box.

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