FREDERICK KILLS COLONEL CLERY.
Noiselessly Frederick removed from his collar a long and slender pearl-headed platinum pin with a very sharp point, which he habitually wore in the evening to keep his white tie in place. After a rapid glance at the nape of the colonel's neck, which was fully exposed to view as he bent over the latter, Frederick, with a swift downward motion of his hand, buried this novel kind of a stiletto to the very head between the first and second vertebræ of the spinal column. Without a cry, without a sound, the unfortunate officer fell forward on the table as if he had been struck by lightning. Death had been instantaneous, the spinal marrow having been touched by the unerring and steady prick of the tiny weapon.
This was but another instance of the dangerous knowledge which Frederick had acquired from the natives during his sojourn in Java. All the more dangerous, as when death has been brought about in this way no trace of violence remains except the minute puncture at the back of the neck produced by the pin. This is almost certain to escape observation unless specially looked for, and the death is attributed to a sudden failure of the action of the heart.
Frederick, having ascertained that the colonel was quite dead, took from his contracted hand the letter he had been reading, replaced it in the portefeuille with the others, and then restored it to his pocket. Bending once more over the lifeless form of the colonel he drew the pin from the almost invisible wound, which had not even bled, and replaced it in his tie. Then, taking the body in his arms, he dragged it to the lounge, on which he carefully laid it, closing the wide-open eyes and arranging the pillows under the head. Lowering the lamp, he went softly to the door, and, after listening intently for some minutes to hear if any one was about, he stepped out of the room, and closing the door after him, walked down stairs and into the quiet, lonely street.
CHAPTER XX.
LADY ALICE'S SUSPICION.
The next day was a fine one. The sun was shining brightly, the sky was a deep transparent blue, and as Frederick walked through the park on his way to the Kingsbury mansion he stopped several times to enjoy the cool morning air. The trees were clothed in all the fresh beauty of their spring garments, dew was sparkling like diamonds on the velvetry lawns, where flocks of sheep were peacefully grazing, and the still sheet of water of the Serpentine flashed like a mirror in the bright morning light. Great rose-bushes, with their sweet-smelling pink, red, and white blossoms, perfumed the air, while the paths were bordered with a rainbow of many-colored flowers, over which yellow butterflies were hovering. In the distance there was a kind of dim silvery haze hanging midway between heaven and earth, and through its gauzy vail the tall clumps of trees and bushes looked almost fairy-like and unreal.