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[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL AREAXGEMENT.] A FORGOTTEN PAST, BY G. W. APPLETON, Author of "P»ash Concl usions," "Francois the Valet," &c., &o. [COPYRIGHT.] CHAPTER I. 1 The time has now arrived when, yielding to the insistence of my mends, i can with safety give to the world soinetnmg more than an inkling of the suuUiug series of events which befell me some yt-ai-s sillve iiy the strangest- of accidents I be- came, as it weie in a moment, involved in a hideous, woild wide conspiracy, which, to employ an expression nuv bocumo historical, would have -aUggwod uuiiij.rutv" had it been carwd to a sucot-ssxul issue. that it failed is due in a great measure to my extraordinary good luck. That 1 am alive to write this narrative is in itself a marvel, and nothing short of my great and strenuous love ior a beautiful woman, combmed. as 1 say, with nvoncieiful ouuJ luvk- could ever have carried me safely tnrough the terrible experiences of that never-io-oe-iorgottc-n period. It all began in tins way. Having taken my de- gree of M.D., i was fortunate enough to buy a practice m Richmond which proved fairly lucra- tive from the first My sister Helen, a year older than myself, lived witli me in a detached villa in the outskirts or the town—it is unnecessary to specify exactly where—and on the outer gate was a weii-ponsned bra.-s plate bearing the name EDWAllD WILLIAMS, M.D., and of this I was not a little proud, for a time. A young man named Gregory was my assistant, and i also kept a page-boy, who delivered medi- cine to my patients, and a. general servant. For a year dl went cmoothiy and well. Helen made an" excellent housekeeper, and no thought of matrimony had ever as yet occurred to me. I was happy and contented, and reasonably prosperous. .0 discordant element had once crept into our quiet and decorous home, and all boded well for the future when, without a moment's warning, the bolt fell, and life for me was never the same again. it was on a late December day. I had just finished my luncheon, wilen an urgent s.ummon3 came from bedside of a patient for whose recovery 1 felt a deep solicitude at the time. So putting all my overcoat at once I hurried out of the house on my way. Snow had been falling steadily ior an nour past, dnd the ground was already covered to the depth of an inch or more. Passing through the garden gate, I was turning sharply to the left towards the- house of my patient when I heard my name shouted out from the op- posite direction. 1 paused to look, and saw a small group gathered about some dark object in the snow. One of the meu was. beckoning to me to approach. I did so, and, to my surprise, found a beautIful young woman lying face upwards in the scow, and quite unconscious. "Who is "Üe;" i asked. Nobody knew. One man, a garrulous fellow, potman at "The George," while walking behind her had eeon he-r .-aidaenly reel and fall. As for the others, they had merely gathered around in the usual way 0:1 such occasions. She was cer- tainly a stranger to me, and I saw, by the superb fur mantle s he wore and the diamonds in her ears that she must bo a woman of some social impor- tance. At lCbt, that was my hasty deduction. Unable at the moment- to exactly determine the cause of her seizure, and knowing that seme time might elapse before she wou ld regain conscious- ness, 1 felt t11a;; to lean) her there expos2d in the snow was absolutely out of the question. The commonest dictates of humanity revolted against such an idea, and I determined to have her car- ried at once into my house. That determination scaled my fate. From that moment, as I have said, life for me was never the same again. I rLù willing helpers—the garrulous potman taking an active lead—and Helen, perceiving us from the window, flew at once to the front door and threw it wide open. "Dear me Whatever is the matter?" she said, as she caught a nearer view of the white-faced woman we wero bearing in. "A lady taken in in the road outside," I said. 'T think we had better bring her into the dining room. It is warmer tnere." Wo laid her on the couch near the fire, and I then thanked and dismissed the helpers, and proceeded to render such medical aid as I thought necessary to the fair stranger. Helen looked on in pitying wonder. "hoøver can she be?" sh ? said. "Just look at her sables !—five hundred guineas at least they must have cost. And the diamonds in her ears, too And tho=o are American boots, I am sure. Neither is her dress of English make; and—oh, Ted I iBu't she wondrousiy beautiful?" And 'ondrously beautiful she truly was—with a beauty such as I dare not attempt to describe— except that, v.-hen Helen rpmoved her toque. I saw a great cascade of blue-black hair go tumbling to the ycry floor, and low down upon her olive cheeks such eyelashes swept from closed lids as one seldom sees outide of sunny Spain or Mexico, and the sweetly-curved white lips that I knew would be cherry-hued soon; and everywhere such graùeful contours of form and feature caught my eye that, tor once. my heart wag so strangely stirred within me that I dared not meet Helen's inquiring glance. "I think." said I. quite ignoring her ouestion and in my best professional manner, "that she will scon regain consciousness. I can do nothing fur- ther for her at present, so sit by her side while I run aroutid to see Mr. Jones. They will be won- dering why I an so long in coming. By the time I return she will probably be all right and able to leave th? hou'e. A glass of wine, by the way, will do her no harm" With that I hastened away. Finding that my pàtient was not in such a critical condition as I had feared, I shortened my stay as much as pos- sible and leturned at once to the house. As I had predicted, the fair stranger was sitting up. and as I entered the room Helen was urging upon Tier acceptance a glass of wine. At that moment she lifted her eyes towards me. and never, I candidly admit, had I seen such eyes before, so lustrous, dark, and softly appealing were they; and yet, too, there was a something in them, look of mingled wonderment, timidity and alarm—-which puzzled me not a little. "I trust you are feeling much better," I said. 'T don't know. she faltered. My head feeis very queer. What has happened? Where am I?" "You were taken suddenly ill in the road out- side my house," I answered. "I am a doctor, and had you brought in here" She passed her hand across her forehead and seamed perplexed. "I don't understand. My wits seem to have gone all astny. This is your house, you sal" "This certainly is my house." '"Still I do not understand. Where is your house ?" I exchanged amazed looks with Helen. "Why," I said, '"here, in Richmond, of course." Th" words, however, seemed to convey no mean- ing to her. "Richmond s he repeated "Richmond! I have never heard of such a place as Richmond." Again Helen and I exchanged looks of blank amazement. "But this is Richmond," 1 said, "and vou must have come here on some errand. Once more she pressed her hand to her fore-head, as if trying hard to think. and again she shook her head. "I must have forgotten," said she. "Is it possible that you cannot remember what brought you here?" "I remember nothing." "But surely," I said, "yor know where you came from. Did you arrive by train?" "I really do not know, she replied, in a tone of 9:e;mi 1\0 distress I began to be alarmed Some very extraordin- ary instances of lapse of memory had recently been reported in the newspapers, and I wondered if I had a similar case on my hands, and if so. what the end of it all would I reflected a moment before putting the final and conclusive test. then I said "\Yell. it docs SJm very strange, but perhap- I may be able to assist your memory a little. Have you any objection to giving me your name'" "My she repeated, and again her hand went to her brow and a look of pain crossed her features. She made a desperate effort this time, but all in vain, for with a. mournful shake of her head and a wan and pitiable smile on her lips, she at length answered — "Heaven help me. sir, I have quite forgotten." I had felt afraid of it. and now the matter be came mere serious than evr. What, I began to leflect, was I to do with thi3 lovely creature who had come so strangely and mysteriously into our home? Who and what was she? She was unmis- takably Spanish in appearanca—of a. type fre- quently to be met with in Lower California and Texas—and she spoke with an unimpeachable American accent. Furth»¡-¡1iore. her dress and manner, oven the wearing of valuable diamonds in the street, proclaimed aloud her transatlantic origin. That, in any case, she was a str'1er to I England I had not a. shadow of doubt. With thi? thought in my mind, I turned to her agaa and I asked Can you remember if vou have anv friend. in London -he repeated. "I have heard of London, and she brightened at the thought. Just so." I replied, and with that a happv idea struck me. Perhaps," I said to Helen. she ha- a return ticket in her pocket, and possibly a Richmond addrp:;s--in which ca-e I can call the brougham and send her to her destination. Doubt- less. then, everything will come back like a fla-.Ii to her agai n." "Why, of course." said Helen, visiblv r?li"7ccl and with a smile she turned to our visitor: "Have you a purse?" said she. The stranger smiled in turn. "Surely I must have a purse," she replied, and her hand went automatically to a side pocket. whencp she produced the article in question, and extended it to me. It was of lizard skin. and upon it. to my joy, I saw what I at first took to be a monogram in diamonds, but which proved to be simply the letter M.. and of this I made a mental note. "Wïth vour permission [ said, I will open this." She at onc-e nodded a hearty asent. and in another moment I found i" it, besides gold and silver and a number of bank notes, the un- mistakable half of a return first-class ticket from Waterloo. "Just as I imagined," I said. "She came from London this afternoon, for here is the date, for the purpose of calling upon somebody in Kichmond. Very probably the address is here. 'Aha'" I exclaimed with a. sigh of relief, "there doubtless it is," and I unfolded a little slip of I paper, and what was my stupefaction to read upon I It-MY VERY OWN NAME. I CHAPTER II. I I could scarcely beiiove the evidence of my own eyes. But there was the palpable fact in Black and white, which nothing could argue away, a.Ld I telt that the mystery had suddenly assumed a personal aspect that was more than bewildering. There could be no manner of doubt that she had travelled down from London expressly to see nie and there she sat before me, a radiant vision ot youthtul beauty, unable to explain a singio word of her erraiict-ignoraiit even of her identity. The situation was a peculiariy awkward one, and tor a moment I stood dumb- to-j.i.iea feiveiviug my agitation, Helen exclaimed— tr ny, how strange you look. Have you found a name and address." I-ly way ot reply I simply handed her the slip of paper, and her tace, 111 turn, grew full 01 wonder. W nat, for goodness sake, does it all mean 7" said she. 1 snook my head in stupid bewilderment, and taking tne paper from ner shewed it to the stranger. "Is this the person you came down to see?" I aked. She looked at it, obviously perplexed, and I perceived at once that, with regard to my name as with everything eLse, her mind was an absolute blank. She read it out—"Dr. Edward Williams, HiCiimond, Surrey''—and looked up. i Clon t know t he name at all," said she. I was struck" ail of a heap as the saying goes. What was 1 to do' VN-hat could I do.' What was it my duty to do? I felt sorely per- plexed. This was not a problem to be solved at sight. This is getting serious, Helen," I said very, what do you suggest doing?" 1 am fairly nonplussed, There is the police, of course—but I don t quite like the idea." Uur mysterious visitor suddenly started to her feet and laid an imploring hand on my arm. A pair of dark, beseeching eyes met my own puzzled look. Oil. no," she exclaimed in a voice now choking with emotion, you mustn't do that. Have a little patience with me. Try and do. 1 can't remember. Everything seems suddenly gone from me, but it will all come back-it will surely come back. You both look so kind and i gooj. Don't send me away. Bear with me tor a little while. I will try hard to remember. Iudeed I Yo ill. You have my purse. 1 will not be I a burden to you, and oh, piea»e bear with me for j just a little while." What was I to do? To cast forth a beautiful girl-she was not more than nineteen—about nom there was an indefinable air of distinction and refinement, and who so pathetically implored my protection, seemed quite out of the question. [What could any but the most stony-hearted of mortals do under such circumstances as tlle:;8: Some freak of Fate or Providence had thrown her, helpless, upon my hands. Of a certainty she had come to Richmond to see me. Perhaps, on the morrow, the mystery would be satisfactorily explained, and then how bitterly would 1 reproach myself ware I now to hand her over to the rough and ready mercies of tiie police. Once more i looked into her pleading eyes and made up my j mind. There was 110 resisting that plaintive appeal. lie will renial ii with us for Helen," I said, ?lie will remain with us for th? pre;jnt. Piease consider her as our guest.' He-en was not only the dearest and best- I natured girl in the world, but her brother's wish was always a supreme law with her. She at once j extended her hand to the lovely giri, and said, with a smile: That, then, is decided. We shall not let you I go just yet, and we will try to make you as com- I iortable as possible. Come with me at once to your room and take off your things. Then you must have a cup of tea. You will be as right as j can be to-morrow, I daresay. This is your purse. Oh! but you must take it. Remember that you are our guest. And now, Ted," she addeu, turning to ine, I suppose you are going out to see your patients." i nodded assent, and the two girls left the room, [ our visitor turning to give mo a grateful look as she went out. 1 am afraid my patients did not receive quite my usual attention that afternoon. 'thoughts of that beautilul creature dropping into my house- hold as if from another planet, with my name in her purse, of the strange mystery surrounding her commg, arid her still stranger lapse of memory, would keep obtruding themselves with bewildering persistency at every sick bedside; and 1 am glad to think I nad no very serious case in hand tnat memorable aiternoon. it being highly probable that her momory would return to her after a good night's sleep, i resolved to keep my own counsel in the matter for the present. but should her memory not return on the morrow -and strangeiv enough as that awkward contingency crossed my mind I did not feel in the least cii,mayed-well, in that case my aunt Maria must be consulted at once. ihat much was certain; tor up to the present time my Aunt Maria Donaldson had been a most important factor in my life. To her lowed my education, and she it was who bought for me the practice in Richmond. From her, too, I had great expectations—equally, of course, with Helen, who abo had a small annuity of her own -and I wouid not have dreamt of taking any serious step at that time without seeking the advice of this good spinster aunt of mine. Now at this point I must tell you of my father (my mother died in giving nie birth), al- though of him I know nothing except by hearsay. He had wasted a fortune, my Aunt Maria once told nse, in mad enterprises. He would appear to have been a sort of universal Friend of Man" —the espouser of "lost causes" -a revolutionist and firebrand and a member of goodness knows how many secret societies having for their aim the downfall of the sovereign classes. He was connected, I believe, with an insurrection in Poland, with several South American revolutions, and was so involved in the Paris Commune busi- ness that after being first sentenced to death he was duly deported to New Caledonia, whence he escaped, I knew not whither. My first direct communication with him came in a curious way. I am mentioning this here because it has a certain bearing upon my story. It was during my last term at St. Bartholomew's Ho,;pita.l-"Bart's" we always affectionately called it, and one day, shortly before obtaining my degree, I had just quitted tho dissecting room, jubilant with the thought that I had successfully accomplished an exceedingly difficult piece of work, when the porter—"Chang" we called him in virtue of his many inches of stature-approached me and said that a gentleman was waiting at the lodge, and wished to see me. "I think, sir," he added, "I think he told me he had brought you a letter from your father." I was naturally surprised at this, and said, "Shew the gentleman at once into the prosector's room." There I found him a moment later: a remarkably handsome man, with engaging manners, who. after the usual formalities, speakmg with a slightly foreign accent, handed me a letter bearing my address. j It proved to be a very brief note from my father, 1saying that he had received excellent accounts of me from my Aunt Maria, and he had taken the liberty of introducing to such a promising son his i very good friend Emmanuel Garcia-who would be j passing through London, and would be pleased to exchange civilities with me. That was all. It • was a curious sort of letter, as you will admit; and ? I scarcely knew what to make of it. But Mr. Garcia's maner was most gracious, and he put me at my ease in a moment. You must come and dine with me to-night at I the Cafe Royal." said he, "and I will talk to you about your father." It might seem very upfillal on my part, but I plcadpd an anterior engagement with a friend my dearest chum, Charley Mortimer—of whom you will hear more very soon. But he would accept no excuse. Bring your friend with you," said he. Any friend of my friend's son will be more than wel- come." This was aid with so much suavity and grace of manner that—thinking, too, that it was a quaint sort of business altogether—I at once assented to his propositic n. i Mortimer and I turned up punctually at the Cafe Royal at the appointed hour. Our host was charming. He had left my father in California, he said, but added little or nothing to that in- I formation. As a matter of fact, I was not over anxious to hear more. The dinn&r was glorious-fit for a bng, as the saying g0&?—fhe wines superlative; and, a< I I say, a more delightful host elle might have to travel miles to meet. At kv.t, however, came a ja.rring note in the r,ven:ll,,r s onjcynient--to our host, at least,—for, casually glancing about the room, he (suddenly caught i-ight of two men sitting at an adjoining ta.ble. They were both f-c-reigners, and I sa.w one of them lift his fingers and make what I thought to be a very peculiar sign. With that every vestige of colour left Mr. Garcia's face. He hurriedly called for his bill and whispered to me: "I must go. Will you and your friend see me safely home?" Now, both of us, Charley Mortimer and my- self, were .stalwart chaps, and had done some notable things in the athletic way in our college days; and. with such good wine inside us—■ though, to do us justice, as we smelt mischief in tho air we needed no such stimulus as that-we gladly assented. When we had regained the street I saw that Mr. Garcia was painfully agitated. &ha,ll we take a cab ?" he asked. Let me confess to you at once that my life is now in your hands." In that said 1. step in here between us;" and we each took him. by an arm. "Y ou are safe enough," I added. "Don't you worry one little bit. Where are you staying?" "AI the Savoy Hotel," said he. "Good," said 1. "This way, Charley," and we turned in the direction of Piccadilly Circus. I had seen the two foreigners descending the stairs behind ns. I also saw that they had been joined at the door by two others. But I said nothing of this to Mr. Garcia, though I whis- pered it to Charley Mortimer. As a matter of fact, What might have been danger to him wa, merely fun to us, for I can a. ure you -cn that nighbt we felt equal to tackling any number of foreigners if the occasion required it, a,nd we did not know how soon that occasion might arise. We crossed over to the Criterion-thor four men always fdllowing its. Aftor.i -oh a sumptuous feast at your expern-ie, Mr. Garcia," I said "you might permit me to offer you just one modest glass of chartreuse." He looked in my face amd understood. "With pleasure, Mr. Williani, zaid he. We I went to the very end of the long bar a.nd I watched to see if anybediy entered. I could see nobody. "Quick!" I said. "The back way out through the coffee room." A moment later we stood in Jermyn-street; but at the comer of tho Haymarket I saw, to my disgust two of the four men standing. They had divined my motive for entering the Criterion, and I now knew, Which was a com- pensating advantage, with what superhumanly clever people I doubtless had to deal. '1 By this time I could feel Mr. Garoia shaking like, leaf on our arms, and I. realised the gravity of the situation. Still I endeavoured to reassure liim. 'Xm't worry, air," I said, "we medLn to see you through this. Say the word and we will go back and give those beggars a dashed good hid- ing while you get awa.y. "No, no," he said almost in tones of entreaty. "I beg of you, itay by me. i trust implicitly to you. In your strong hands and your fr-end s I know that I am H I fa. I shall never forget this service—only stay by me. "All right," I said. "Well try another dodge. I think the 'Bun-shop' will do, eh, Charley?" Charley Mortimer laughed and thought it would. Now, to anybody who knows his Strand ar.d wants to "shunt" an importunate tailor, let us sa.y, or an inconvenient acquaintance of any sort, there is no place like your Bun-shop, for there is a most admirable bend in the long, narrow saloon, and if you are alert enough, before your enemy can. weather that bend you can find ea-iy sanctuary in Maiden-lane at the baok. We adopted this ruse, and I would have betted long odds on the successful result of it. But those wily foreigners seemed too many for uv As we stepped into Maiden-lane we saw two of the fcur, cigarette in mouth, sauntering casually along, and in a moment they were joined by the others. "Charley," I said, "this is getting a bit hot. Better go to the Savoy at once and think it ever, hadn't we?'' And as he couldn't sugge it- anything better we soon entered the Savoy Hotel by way of Beaufort | Buildings, thinking in that way to head off our pursuers for a few minutes at least. At my sug- gestion we went at once to Mr. Garcia's private ge,tion we went at once to Mr. Garc?.a, 's p ri?-atc, "Now, .ir," I said, "you have treated us 'en prince' to-night, and we mean to see you through this trouble, whatever it may be. We don't care what it is—it is lMne of our business. Just say the word—what are we to do?" "I want to get away to Southampton to-night, if possible," said he. "Very well," I replied. "Ring the bell and order your bili-or .hall I?" —and I did so. "Now, Charley," I added "have you an ide.a?" "I have," said he, and he at -once unfolded it. The idea was a good one, and a few minutes Inter an urgent message was sent by a page boy to a famous costumier in the near neighbour- hood. Meanwhile the bill had been paid, and I had exchanged clothes with Mr. Garcia (my own being transferred to a portmanteau) when the costumier arrived. "This," ;'atd Mortimer, "is a matter cf life and death, and you must- be quick about it. Don't look alarmed—you have nothing to fear, Our friend hera"pcinting to Mr. Gar- "wishes for political reasons, to leave London to- night unobserved. This other gentleman mean- while will personate him if it can be acne. Can you do it?" The costumier grasped the situation at onoo. "Ye- said he, "I quite understand. Very good," and after an all-comprehensive glance at Mr. Garcia he left the room. A quarter of an 'hour Later he reappeared with the necessary appliances for effecting tho desired change, and immediately set to work upon me. The result, when I looked in the glass shortly afterwards, was simply magical. I could aimo it have sworn that I was Mr. Garcia himself. Then feeling quite sure that he was safe from further pursuit, we bade our genial host good-bye and God speed, went boldily down into the street, called. a hanom, and drove in hot speed to Eus- ton Station, just in time to cafcoh the expr- to Liverpool. Mortimer, after tipping the guard, hustiled mo with the portmanteau into a first- class carriage, and as I entered I looked ba k and saw two of the four men rush suddenly upon the platform and leap into a rear oarriage just as the train wa- moving away. Before reaching Willes- dm I had put on my clothes and removed the wig and other accessaries of my disguise, and I leaped from the train as it was gliding cut of Che station again. As for the two men, so far as I knew to the contrary, they went on to Liverpool on a booties- errand, and I laughed' heartily at their disoomfiture. That Mr. Garcia safely reached Southampton and New York I know—for from the latter oity I, some weeks after, received a brief letter with- out address. It read:- Dear Mr. Williams,—• Your kindness to me on a certain night in London I never can forget. Thanks to you I am still alive. Why, it is unne-oe. Isary to ex- plain. Let the simple statement suffice, and I hcipe yet to express my gratitude to you in a more sub-ta.ntial believe me, your obliged friend, Emmanuel Garcia. Now, this may seem a very long. digression, but it ia highly essential that it should be set down in this place, as you will presently see. I eTa be continued.)

--=- I THE LATE MR. LECHE.

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