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[Illustration: THE SCARLET HOUSE OF SIN.]


DEATH TO THE INQUISITIVE!

A STORY OF SINFUL LOVE.

BY

LURANA W. SHELDON,


     "_Nay, do not ask--
       In pity from the task forbear:
     Smile on--nor venture to unmask
       Man's heart, and view the Hell that's there._"


NEW YORK

W. D. ROWLAND, PUBLISHER 23 CHAMBERS STREET 1892


Copyright, 1892

BY

W. D. ROWLAND.




CONTENTS

CHAP.                                            PAGE.
     I. THE WHITECHAPEL MYSTERY                      5

    II. A SUICIDAL ATTEMPT                          12

   III. RESCUED BY THIEVES                          20

    IV. THE SHAME-BORN CHILD                        26

     V. MAURICE SINCLAIR                            33

    VI. A PAINFUL REMINISCENCE                      40

   VII. THE BREATH OF PASSION                       47

  VIII. A MIDNIGHT CRIME                            54

    IX. MAURICE SINCLAIR ESCAPES WITH HIS VICTIM    61

     X. THE SCARLET HOUSE OF SIN                    65

    XI. JULIA WEBBER LAYS PLANS FOR REVENGE         73

   XII. A SINFUL LOVE                               77

  XIII. THE CONTRACT BROKEN                         85

   XIV. IN CENTRAL PARK                             93

    XV. DEATH                                       98

   XVI. A DEER HUNT IN NEWFOUNDLAND                104

  XVII. BY THE ASHES OF A GUILTY HOUSE             112

 XVIII. STELLA IS RESTORED TO HER LOVER            120

   XIX. SAFE IN THE ARMS OF LOVE                   126

    XX. DR. SEWARD'S EXPERIMENT                    133

   XXI. A PERFECT UNION                            140

  XXII. "QUEEN LIZ"                                145

 XXIII. ELIZABETH FINDS FRIENDS                    149

  XXIV. STELLA CONFIDES IN HER HUSBAND             153

   XXV. THE CAPTAIN'S STORY                        159

  XXVI. SORROW AND REJOICING                       163

 XXVII. THE MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE                   168

XXVIII. TOO LATE                                   176

  XXIX. THE HOME IN NEW YORK                       181

   XXX. SAM LEE DISCOVERS A FARO GAME              188

  XXXI. CLEVERLY CAUGHT                            194

 XXXII. FACE TO FACE                               200

XXXIII. "I HAVE NO NAME"                           205

 XXXIV. THE LADY VAN TYNE WILL FIGHT FOR HER HONOR 211

  XXXV. STELLA AND ELIZABETH                       218

 XXXVI. A LAST ESCAPE                              226

XXXVII. FIVE YEARS AFTER                           229


[Illustration: MISS LURANA W. SHELDON.]




DEATH TO THE INQUISITIVE.

A STORY OF SINFUL LOVE.




CHAPTER I.

THE WHITECHAPEL MYSTERY.

     Hark! It is a woman's cry
     Echoing thro' the unhallowed place:--
     Forward, to her rescue, fly--
     See the suffering in her face.


A piercing shriek echoed throughout the entire length and breadth of the
gloomy passage, hushed as it was in the brief hour of repose that
usually intervened between the vice-rampant hour of midnight and the
ever reluctant dawn.

It seemed as if the very light shrank from penetrating the loathsome
windings of that wretched quarter of London, and as to pure air, it
simply refused to enter such illy ventilated nooks and crevices, while
the poisoned vapors that filled the narrow precincts were always trying
to escape and failing through their own over-weight of reeking odors.

The scream of the dying woman was carried indistinctly to the ears of
the sleeping inmates simply because the air was too heavy with vile
tobacco and whiskey, stale beer fumes, and the exhalations of festering
garbage heaps to transmit anything in other than a confused and
indistinct manner.

Nevertheless there was something so extraordinarily frightful in the
shriek that it did succeed in reaching the ears of nearly every habitue
of the place, who, shrieking in their turn aroused the others, and one
by one frowzeled heads and wrinkled faces issued from broken windows and
rapidly, with shuffling footsteps, men and women crawled from
innumerable dark passages and darker doorways, and with suspicious
glances at each other, sneaked in and out through the slime and rubbish,
in a half curious, half frightened search for a glimpse of that horrible
tragedy.

I say _sneaked_ about, and I use the word advisedly as the lawyers say,
inasmuch as these degraded members of the human family,--these
de-humanized fag ends of the genius <DW25>, did not walk, run, or perform
any other specified motion in their perambulations.

On the contrary, they hugged the walls and the gutters; they were
distrustful of the laws of gravitation and equilibrium, preferring to
lean more or less heavily on walls and other supports, with bodies bent
and faces averted, while the rapidity with which they appeared and
disappeared was best appreciated by the Police who were supposed to
guard this particular section of Whitechapel, but who religiously
confined their guardianship to the outer walls, while the denizens of
the multitudinous alleys or passages were free to perpetrate their
murders, ply their nefarious trades and revel and rot in the stench of
their own degradations.

One by one these creatures crawled from their hiding places.

Men were seen clutching the rags of their scanty clothing while their
bleared eyes scanned every inch of the broken pavements.

Women, with odd garments thrown carelessly about their shoulders,
joined in the search, and for a brief time no word was spoken.

Finally an old creature, dirtier if possible than the rest, bent in
form, and with one long brown fang extending down over her shrunken
chin, hobbled from a gloomy doorway and in a strident, nasal tone gave
her opinion to these searchers of iniquity.

"Hit's Queen Liz thet's done fer, HI knowed 'er yell; You'll find 'er
somewheres down by the Chinaman's shanty. HI spects 'e's knifed 'er."

"Good enough for 'er, the stuck hup 'uzzy," exclaimed one of the
wretched beings that followed closely at the woman's heels.

"To think of 'er livin' 'ere for two years hand not speakin' to no one
but that greasy yaller-skin. HI knowed 'e'd get sick of 'er 'fore long."

"S'pose you think hit's your turn next," snapped up another bedraggled
female, whereupon a vicious battle ensued between the two while the men
and women halted in their search to watch, what to them was the very
essence of life,--a fight.

But the old crone who had first spoken crawled on until she reached the
Chinaman's quarters, and there sure enough, a Mongolian, swarthy and
greasy, his beady eyes blazing with excitement, was bending over and
trying with poor success to withdraw a villainous looking weapon, half
knife, half dagger, from the breast of an apparently dying woman.

The victim was a familiar figure in the Alley, and her clean, handsome
face with its "hands-off" expression had long since won her the name of
"Queen Liz."

While her failure to mingle with the other women or receive the beastly
attentions of the men had made her an object of hatred to all concerned,
still she had won their respect by her evident ability to defend herself
at all times and in all circumstances, while the love she plainly bore
her beautiful babe, a child of about two years, was a never ceasing
source of wonderment and ridicule to these hardened mortals.

It was true that Queen Liz spent much time in the quarters of this
particular Mongolian while there were many more eligible parties of her
own nationality in the passage, but Queen Liz was evidently above her
station, and as the Mongolian in question was possessed of more worldly
goods than were his neighbors, it was reasonably supposed that she
sought the comforts and luxuries of Chinese fans and Oolong in
preference to the other shanties with their ever prevalent aroma of
stale beer.

Nevertheless Queen Liz was not wholly overwhelmed by the wealth of Sam
Hop Lee, because it was rumored that at certain intervals a gentleman
from the outside world; a member of actual London society was seen going
in and out of the narrow passage, Liz always accompanying him on these
exits and entrances, for protection, it was generally supposed.

The sight of the stranger in their own lawful precincts brought always a
mixture of sentiments to the thieves and sharpers who infested these
gloomy byways.

Here was an excellent opportunity for operations in their own particular
line of business, but here also was a woman armed with the usual weapons
of the alley, ready and anxious to meet in mortal combat any and all
that should dare lay hands upon herself or guest.

Thus Queen Liz was let pretty severely alone by all, and her life past
and present was a mystery too obscure to be in any danger of being
solved by the beer muddled brains of her neighbors.

But now Queen Liz was lying in the slime and mud of the alley with the
deadly knife sticking firmly in her side, and as this uncanny assemblage
of human scavengers drew nearer, Sam Lee gave one more vigorous pull at
the weapon, and withdrawing it, turned its blade to the light of a
flickering tallow dip, and instantly, in the eyes of each and every one
present, he was acquitted of the horrible deed.

The knife was of a make unknown in the alley and only to be found in the
possession of a man to whom money is no object and who could well afford
to follow his own fancies in the design of his favorite paper cutter,
for such the weapon evidently was.

Long, narrow and sharply pointed, the blade was of finest silver,
handsomely engraved, and the ebony handle shone resplendent with gems,
so placed as to form on the polished surface the initials M. S. in
dazzling characters.




CHAPTER II.

A SUICIDAL ATTEMPT.

     Have pity, Reader,'twas the fire
     Of human passion in her brain,--
     First, youth's impulsive, mad desire,
     Then love, and love's devouring pain.


Some two years previous to the incidents of our opening chapter, in a
quiet house situated on G--St., in the vicinity of Belmont Square, an
aged couple sat quietly talking, while the shadows fell longer and
darker about the room, and the increased tread of passing feet spoke
plainly of the end of another day of that weary labor that fell to the
lot of the large number of tradespeople who lived in this row of modest
houses.

The aged couple mentioned were occupying the two narrow windows that
faced the crowded thoroughfare, and the two faces were pressed anxiously
against the glass, while the old eyes peered eagerly up and down, over
and across in a careful search for the one of whom they had been quietly
speaking.

There was silence for a little while and then the old man leaned back in
his chair and, while wiping the moisture from his glasses with a
generous square of cambric, said querulously:

"It is mighty strange, Marthy, where Lizzie is. She ought to be home
before this."

"I know it, father," responded his wife meekly. "She's been acting very
strange of late, staying away from home and coming in at all hours as
dragged out as if she had been walking the streets for miles."

"Maybe that's what she does," snapped the old man, and then, as if
ashamed of his hasty words, he added in a softer tone: "Though why she
should do that I can't see. She's got a good home here with us and has
had ever since our poor Mary died and left us our grandchild in the
place of our child to care for and protect."

"And we've done both, father," said the old lady, gently. "Lizzie has no
need to seek pleasure outside her own home, what, with the rooms to
look after, her books, her piano and her needle work, she ought to be
pretty well contented."

"That's so, Marthy, but she evidently is not. Now ever since that young
man rented our two back rooms and began to spend his evenings here--"

"You don't think she is in love with him, do you father?" interrupted
his wife quickly.

"Can't say, Marthy, you women can judge better of that. I only know she
acts uncommonly unhappy lately. Let's see, the young fellow has been
gone a week now, hasn't he?"

"Yes, that is so, and Lizzie has seemed all broke down ever since. I was
asking her yesterday to see Mr. Jeller, but she turned as white as
anything.

"'No, no, Grandma,' she said, 'I'll not see any doctors. There's nothing
the matter with me, nothing!'

"But there was a hard look came into her eyes, and the idea went through
my mind that perhaps that gentlemanly looking fellow was just playing
with her after all, and she had only found it out after her heart was
gone from her."

Here the old lady stopped to wipe the tears from her faded eyes, while
the blood of his youth flushed her husband's face and, with cane
uplifted, he muttered fiercely:

"If I thought that, I'd cane him, old as I am! Lizzie's a good girl and
has been as well raised and as well educated as the best of them, and if
her father and grandfather before him were tradespeople, they were
honest and respectable, and I don't know what better dowry a woman can
need than her own virtues and accomplishments and a record behind her of
generations of honorable people."

Here the old man again sank back in his chair, overcome by the violence
of his emotions, while his wife, re-adjusting her glasses, moved aside
the curtain and again peered out into the fast darkening street.

There was silence for a few moments and then her husband resumed his
position at the other window, while the ticking of the clock echoed,
painfully distinct, through the silent room, and the sound of passing
feet grew fainter and fainter, and darkness, mingling with the
impenetrable vapors of a London fog, settled heavily down upon the
earth.

Certainly no girl could have a more happy home or two more tender,
loving companions than had Elizabeth Merril.

But discontent is bred in the bone and needs no outward influence or
surroundings to foster its soul destroying germs.

Elizabeth had grown into womanhood, beautiful in form and feature, loyal
in heart and spotless in her maidenly purity, but the seeds of
discontent, inherited or otherwise, sprang up in her heart and took from
every pleasure that fullness of joy which is so necessary to perfect
happiness.

It was her suggestion to rent the superfluous rooms thereby adding to
the family exchequer and at the same time increasing her household
duties.

The logic was excellent, but the impulse of a dissatisfied mind prompted
the suggestion and evil impulses, however logical, are rarely productive
of good results.

This particular instance was a most conclusive proof of the veracity of
such reasoning.

For a few brief weeks Elizabeth's heart was filled with content and
peace. With her additional labor came renewed ambition and the results
seemed highly satisfactory to all concerned.

Then, as time passed on and the young man who occupied the rooms found
many and varied excuses for seeking her presence, the roses on
Elizabeth's cheeks deepened into carnation, her eyes flashed with a new
born glory, and from morn till night the tender song of the nightingale
burst joyously from her lips.

The young man had occupied the rooms for nearly a year and his devotion
to their grandchild had been constantly growing more marked.

But for the past few months the song had ceased on Elizabeth's lips and
the rosy cheeks were growing steadily paler.

In vain the aged couple watched and questioned, but Elizabeth's feminine
tact and spirit outwitted them.

She fulfilled her duties patiently, as of yore, but would seize upon
every possible pretext for remaining away from home,