Rose Mortimer; Or, The Ballet-Girl's Revenge — page 121: what you’re looking at

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THE BALLET-GIRL’S REVENGE. 115 ing him, with a contemptuous wave of the hand. ‘Don’t talk so big, please, about such nonsense, If my poor deranged girl chooses to indulge her whims and fancies, that’s no business of yours.’’ ““ No, sir, but it is the duty of every man, as well as every policeman, to look after anything that looks like—” y, He paused. “ Like what?” * Murder !”’ The voung mother gave a faint shriek at this word. _ It is a terrible word, and must ever raise a twinge of conscience in the guilty one’s mind. *‘Murder!’’ said Mermet. ‘‘ Stuff and nonsense, man. If my daughter chooses to take a fanciful freak into her head and bury her pet dog at night, does it follow that she must be spied upon and over- looked by every paltry impertinent fellow who chooses to pry into what doesn’t concern him at all ?”’ This staggered the man. However, it could not convince him, for he had wit- nessed too much. “Tt won't do,” he said, shaking his head. ‘‘ I’ve seen the body!”’ This settled the matter in the mind of the necroman- cer. _ “You are a cute fellow,’’ said he, ‘and must be dealt with.” This implied a bribe. But the policeman still proved himeelf obnoxious. - “1t’s no use,” he said. ‘‘I know my duty too well to be put off it.” “‘ Of course.”’ ‘“<So the young lady must come with me.”’ With a cry of alarm, the girl sprang to her feet, and with a sudden rush was by the waterside. Mermet divined her fatal intent upon the instant. As she darted past him he stretched forth his hand and caught her by her dress. ' This cheeked her wild flight to death until the policeman came up. ‘ ‘Don’t you see that the poor girl is ynad?”’ said the necromancer. * Tt certainly does look like madness,’ returned the policeman. Sal fT Fig ‘‘ No matter, I must take her with me.”’ ‘¢ Never.”’ “ Ay, and you too.”’ ‘‘ That will be dangerous to attempt,’’ said the ne- cromancer sternly. ** Pooh! pooh !’’ And the policeman placed his hand upon the Arab’s collar. ‘In an instant the little eyes of Mermet flashed a thousand furies and he shook off the grasp. Then he placed his hand upen the crystal phial with which he had provided himself before starting. ‘‘ What have you got there?’ demanded the con- stable at once. ** Nothing.” “‘ Give it to me.”’ . The Arab pretended to be disinclined to part with the bottle. However, he held it in such a way that the polico- man was able to secure it. “‘Well,”? said Mermet, in a grumblingtone. “‘ It’s only a little smelling salts.” “‘T dare say.” “Oh, give it to me.” * At the station.” But don't you see, man, that my poor daughter is ready to faint ?”’ «Then I’ll let her smell it.” The Arab sprang forward in a fright at this. ** No, no, no.” “Hullo! why not?’ ‘* Because in her disordered state of mind the head is too weak to bear too strong a dose.” ‘“‘ How can you moderate it 2”? “* I'll show you,’’ said the necromancer. ‘‘ You just smell it yourself, and then you’ll be satisfied.”’ The policeman took the stopper out of the bottle with his teeth, his other hand being engaged holding the girl. Immediately the odour of the contents of the bottle appeared to strike the constable’s nostrils, even at the length of his arm, a change came over his counten- ance, | He did not attempt to raise it to his face. A suspicion crossed him that something was not altogether right, and he cast the bottle frem him. *‘Too late!’ muttered the Arab necromancer, watching him eagerly. ‘* Murd—” began the constable. But the words died on his lips. His face grew rigid. A fixed stare was upon his countenance, and his eyes looked glassy. The last faint glimmering of sense which remained in the unfortunate man was exerted in an endeavour to articulate. But of no avail. 3 ‘a lips moved—one faint quiver, but that was all. His body jerked, as if the stiffening expression in his face had communicated itself to his body. He swayed to and fro once. Then fell. The girl looked up with a wonder-stricken glance. The necromancer grinned diabolically and hobbled up to the fallen policeman. He stooped down. Knelt and placed his hand upon the left breast. “¢Tt’s all over,’? said Mermet. ‘‘That’s done.’’ Saying this, he picked up the man by the heels. Then dragged him towards the water. It was a tough pull, but the little cripple dragged with a will. A splash caused the girl to look up. The policeman had disappeared . CHAPTER XLVI. CLARA ST. JOHN—AIFTER THE WRECK—THE SLEEP OF DEATH —A FSBARFUOL AWAKENING — THE JEW ELS—TEMPTATION—THE TWO FISHERNEN —MURDER PROPOSED—THE LAST MOMENT— THE SHIPWRECKED MARINER—A STRUGGLE FOR LIFE—THE CRY—THE ALARM—A FRIEND AT HAND, WE must return to Clara St. John. So long have we been engaged in the various ad- ventures of our heroine, Rose Mortimer, and Mermet the Arab necromancer that we have quite neglected this important personage in our history. After the fearful calamities which happened to her and young Edgar Deville, the partner of her fliglt, her senseless body was washed ashore upon the Irish coast. Here, as already related in chapter twenty-nine, two fishermen who were plying their trade picked up the body. A packet fastened to her neck by a small chain was cut open by the fishermen and found, to their infinite surprise, to contain jewels and precious stones of rare value. The cupidity of the two men, who possibly would have remained honest away from temptation, was COMNICLOOOKS CO