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Buckle up, folks, because it looks like the web’s latest scandal is about to get your blood boiling. If you’ve been getting more spam than usual lately, it might just be time to thank the shady operators at Soft2Share.com. The operator of the website has been caught red-handed in an outrageous spam scheme attempting to sell unauthorized email lists. Hold on to your keyboards—things are about to get ugly. In what can only be described as a brazen attempt to cash in on email lists, Soft2Share.com has been caught spamming thousands of unsuspecting websites. And how did they do it? By using their own domain email address and Gmail accounts. Let’s dive into the details. Soft2Share.com was caught red-handed attempting to peddle email lists that contain hundreds, if not thousands, of email addresses. And who are these unfortunate email list victims? Private website owners, bloggers, news publications—you name it. If you’ve got an email address and a website, chances are, Soft2Share.com had you on its hit list. Spam Email Subject Line - 10 Million B2B Email Leads From contact@soft2share.com | Clarissa Turner Hi there, I hope you're having a great day. I am a digital marketer and work at Brand Visibility. Just Wondering, are you interested in buying 10 Million verified B2B email leads from the Apollo, Lusha, Cognism, Uplead, Linkedin and ZoomInfo databases?Features: EMEA, NAM, and APAC coverage, validated emails, high accuracy and GDPR compliance. Selling Price: $150 Let me know if you are interested.Regards. - The spammer. One user reported receiving the unsolicited email 17 times (After requesting to stop each time) - After the 17th a response was provided to the stop request - “We use AI for email marketing” - “We:”??? - What a joke! It’s just a freelancer spammer with no shame! Now, you might be wondering why this is such a big deal. After all, spam has been around forever, right? True, but this isn’t just your run-of-the-mill junk email. This is a calculated, aggressive scheme to exploit the personal information of countless individuals and organizations for profit. And it’s not just about annoying emails; it's about privacy violations and a blatant disregard for digital ethics. For bloggers and journalists who rely on email to connect with their audiences, this isn’t just a nuisance—it’s a potential threat to their livelihood. And for private website owners, it’s a breach of security that could open the door to further harassment. What makes this situation even worse is the fact that Soft2Share.com didn’t stop at their own domain. Oh no, they took it a step further by utilizing Gmail accounts to extend their reach. It’s as if they wanted to make sure no inbox was left untouched by their spammy grasp. And let’s not forget the larger implications. When spam emails proliferate, they don’t just annoy—they can lead to serious security risks, including phishing attempts and malware distribution. By selling these lists, Soft2Share.com isn’t just playing with fire; they’re throwing gasoline on it. So, what’s the takeaway from all this? First off, be vigilant. If you’re receiving an uptick in spam, especially if it seems oddly specific or targeted, your email might have ended up on one of these dubious lists. Secondly, it’s time we call out and hold accountable those who profit from our personal data and email addresses. Soft2Share.com may have thought it is operating under the radar, but its actions have lit up the digital world like a neon sign. Hold onto your inboxes, folks, because the Soft2Share.com spam scandal has taken a turn for the absurd. As if flooding inboxes with unwanted emails wasn’t bad enough, it seems the spammer behind Soft2Share.com has now perfected the art of ignoring pleas to stop. Picture this: you've been relentlessly bombarded with spam from Soft2Share.com, and your inbox is overflowing with offers to buy email lists that include thousands of addresses. Frustrated and fed up, you decide to fight back by firing off a polite but firm request to stop the spamming. But what happens? Silence. Crickets. Your emails are swallowed by the void, and the spam continues to pour in, unabated. But wait, there’s more! One particularly fed-up recipient decided to up the ante. They threatened to report Soft2Share.com to the hosting provider, the CAN-SPAM Act administrator, and various spam reporting databases. Surely, such a threat would get a reaction, right? Well, you’d think so. Instead of a professional or even halfway serious response, this beleaguered spam victim received a reply that can only be described as laughably inadequate. The spammer claimed to be from a “large firm”—argued that her actions were perfectly “fine and ethical marketing.” Seriously? This is the spin we’re getting? The response continued in a bewildering fashion, asserting that there was absolutely no need for opt-in permissions or agreements—because who needs pesky legalities when you're making a quick buck off spam, right? And just when you thought it couldn’t get any more absurd, the spammer threw in a veiled threat of legal action. As if any self-respecting legal team would back a freelancing spammer trying to make a few dollars from dodgy email lists. So, let’s dissect this debacle. The so-called “large firm” is actually just a freelancer with questionable ethics and a severely misguided understanding of marketing practices. The email lists being peddled are clearly harvested and then distributed without consent, and the defenses being offered are as flimsy as wet tissue paper. It’s comical and infuriating all at once. On the one hand, we have a spammer who thinks they can just sweep aside legal obligations and ethical standards with a dismissive wave. On the other, we have an industry that’s clearly in need of stricter regulations and more robust enforcement to tackle these digital parasites. Ladies and gentlemen, if you’re looking for a poster child for the digital parasites dragging our online world into the muck, look no further than Soft2Share.com. This slimy operation is a textbook case of everything that’s wrong with the darker corners of the internet. Their modus operandi? Selling email lists stuffed with thousands of addresses so they can spam even more unsuspecting victims. The audacity of these spammers knows no bounds. Despite repeated cease-and-desist requests from frustrated recipients, Soft2Share.com continues to ignore pleas for sanity. Instead of addressing their unethical behavior, they’ve opted to brush off complaints with laughable justifications. So, next time you encounter spam, remember that it’s not just a nuisance—it’s a symptom of a much larger problem. And let’s be clear: operators like Soft2Share.com are at the heart of this problem. They’re the parasites feeding off the health of our digital world, and it’s up to all of us to push back. Note - None of the email addresses contained in the email lists attempting to be sold via spam emails authorized the list provider from soft2share to be mounted in the documents. The contacts in the lists were scraped while the spammer states they are GDPR compliant. Buckle up, folks, because it looks like the web’s latest scandal is about to get your blood boiling. If you’ve been getting more spam than usual lately, it might just be time to thank the shady operators at Soft2Share.com. The operator of the website has been caught red-handed in an outrageous spam scheme attempting to sell unauthorized email lists. Hold on to your keyboards—things are about to get ugly. spam scheme In what can only be described as a brazen attempt to cash in on email lists, Soft2Share.com has been caught spamming thousands of unsuspecting websites. And how did they do it? By using their own domain email address and Gmail accounts. Let’s dive into the details. Soft2Share.com was caught red-handed attempting to peddle email lists that contain hundreds, if not thousands, of email addresses. And who are these unfortunate email list victims? Private website owners, bloggers, news publications—you name it. If you’ve got an email address and a website, chances are, Soft2Share.com had you on its hit list. Spam Email Subject Line - 10 Million B2B Email Leads From contact@soft2share.com | Clarissa Turner Hi there, I hope you're having a great day. I am a digital marketer and work at Brand Visibility. Just Wondering, are you interested in buying 10 Million verified B2B email leads from the Apollo, Lusha, Cognism, Uplead, Linkedin and ZoomInfo databases? Features : EMEA, NAM, and APAC coverage, validated emails, high accuracy and GDPR compliance. Features Selling Price: $150 Let me know if you are interested. Regards. - The spammer. One user reported receiving the unsolicited email 17 times (After requesting to stop each time) - After the 17th a response was provided to the stop request - “We use AI for email marketing” - “We:”??? - What a joke! It’s just a freelancer spammer with no shame! Now, you might be wondering why this is such a big deal. After all, spam has been around forever, right? True, but this isn’t just your run-of-the-mill junk email. This is a calculated, aggressive scheme to exploit the personal information of countless individuals and organizations for profit. And it’s not just about annoying emails; it's about privacy violations and a blatant disregard for digital ethics. For bloggers and journalists who rely on email to connect with their audiences, this isn’t just a nuisance—it’s a potential threat to their livelihood. And for private website owners, it’s a breach of security that could open the door to further harassment. What makes this situation even worse is the fact that Soft2Share.com didn’t stop at their own domain. Oh no, they took it a step further by utilizing Gmail accounts to extend their reach. It’s as if they wanted to make sure no inbox was left untouched by their spammy grasp. And let’s not forget the larger implications. When spam emails proliferate, they don’t just annoy—they can lead to serious security risks, including phishing attempts and malware distribution. By selling these lists, Soft2Share.com isn’t just playing with fire; they’re throwing gasoline on it. So, what’s the takeaway from all this? First off, be vigilant. If you’re receiving an uptick in spam, especially if it seems oddly specific or targeted, your email might have ended up on one of these dubious lists. Secondly, it’s time we call out and hold accountable those who profit from our personal data and email addresses. Soft2Share.com may have thought it is operating under the radar, but its actions have lit up the digital world like a neon sign. Hold onto your inboxes, folks, because the Soft2Share.com spam scandal has taken a turn for the absurd. As if flooding inboxes with unwanted emails wasn’t bad enough, it seems the spammer behind Soft2Share.com has now perfected the art of ignoring pleas to stop. Picture this: you've been relentlessly bombarded with spam from Soft2Share.com, and your inbox is overflowing with offers to buy email lists that include thousands of addresses. Frustrated and fed up, you decide to fight back by firing off a polite but firm request to stop the spamming. But what happens? Silence. Crickets. Your emails are swallowed by the void, and the spam continues to pour in, unabated. But wait, there’s more! One particularly fed-up recipient decided to up the ante. They threatened to report Soft2Share.com to the hosting provider, the CAN-SPAM Act administrator, and various spam reporting databases. Surely, such a threat would get a reaction, right? Well, you’d think so. Instead of a professional or even halfway serious response, this beleaguered spam victim received a reply that can only be described as laughably inadequate. The spammer claimed to be from a “large firm”—argued that her actions were perfectly “fine and ethical marketing.” Seriously? This is the spin we’re getting? The response continued in a bewildering fashion, asserting that there was absolutely no need for opt-in permissions or agreements—because who needs pesky legalities when you're making a quick buck off spam, right? And just when you thought it couldn’t get any more absurd, the spammer threw in a veiled threat of legal action. As if any self-respecting legal team would back a freelancing spammer trying to make a few dollars from dodgy email lists. So, let’s dissect this debacle. The so-called “large firm” is actually just a freelancer with questionable ethics and a severely misguided understanding of marketing practices. The email lists being peddled are clearly harvested and then distributed without consent, and the defenses being offered are as flimsy as wet tissue paper. It’s comical and infuriating all at once. On the one hand, we have a spammer who thinks they can just sweep aside legal obligations and ethical standards with a dismissive wave. On the other, we have an industry that’s clearly in need of stricter regulations and more robust enforcement to tackle these digital parasites. Ladies and gentlemen, if you’re looking for a poster child for the digital parasites dragging our online world into the muck, look no further than Soft2Share.com. This slimy operation is a textbook case of everything that’s wrong with the darker corners of the internet. Their modus operandi? Selling email lists stuffed with thousands of addresses so they can spam even more unsuspecting victims. The audacity of these spammers knows no bounds. Despite repeated cease-and-desist requests from frustrated recipients, Soft2Share.com continues to ignore pleas for sanity. Instead of addressing their unethical behavior, they’ve opted to brush off complaints with laughable justifications. So, next time you encounter spam, remember that it’s not just a nuisance—it’s a symptom of a much larger problem. And let’s be clear: operators like Soft2Share.com are at the heart of this problem. They’re the parasites feeding off the health of our digital world, and it’s up to all of us to push back. Note - None of the email addresses contained in the email lists attempting to be sold via spam emails authorized the list provider from soft2share to be mounted in the documents. The contacts in the lists were scraped while the spammer states they are GDPR compliant.

Soft2Share.com Caught Red-Handed In Large Spam Scheme

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A term that’s a popular theme of discussion among people today is ‘ (AI)’. There’s no doubt that AI has played the role of a catalyst in transforming industries and reshaping how people interact with technology in today’s world. artificial intelligence As the horizons of artificial intelligence expand, the distinctions between conventional AI and ground-breaking Generative AI become more pronounced, signaling a trans-formative era in intelligent computing. AI enables machines to model or make improvements as per the abilities of the human mind. Right from self-driving cars to entry of generative AI tools like , AI has become a part of daily life and something companies spanning diverse industries are investing in. ChatGPT and Google’s Bard In essence, both General and Generative AI bring formidable strengths to the table, but they’re not without their challenges. Recognizing these strengths and limitations allows for a balanced perspective, ensuring that as we harness AI’s capabilities, we remain cognisant of its potential pitfalls. So, let’s explore the way the two are different from each other and reshaping the future technological landscape. Generative AI vs. AI: Key Differences Generative AI Artificial Intelligence (AI) Meaning It’s a subset of AI and generates content (text, code, and image, audio, video and other data) instantly in response to a prompt. AI are computer systems than can perform simple to highly complex tasks requiring human intelligence, logical reasoning, and speech-recognition, problem-solving and decision-making. Function It dives into massive repositories of existing content and uses that information for generating new content. It identifies consistent trends in the data they are trained on to make similar patterns as per prompts provided by the user. AI combines large amounts of data and uses algorithms and computational power to recognize patterns, improve decision-making and bolster business outcomes. It uses machine learning to train algorithms with data enabling systems to continue learning and improve performance on their own as per experience. Use Professionals like writers, graphic designers, software developers, artists and musicians utilise it for augmenting their productivity. It has shown immense potential in areas like creative writing, sound editing, image editing and suggesting variations to existing designs. AI applications are endless across various sectors and industries. It is used as an expert system in the healthcare industry to diagnose diseases, identify treatments, and suggest drug dosages. Financial industries are also deploying AI to offer financial advice, decide whether or not to approve a loan application and detect and flag activities in banking and finance for fraud detection. Applications ChatGPT, Midjourney, DALL-E, DeepDreem, StyleGAN, Midjourney, etc. and Bard. AI is also used in smartphones that uses facial recognition for unlocking and voice assistants like Alexa, Google Assistant and Siri. Methodology Leverages neural networks and often employs machine learning techniques like Generative Adversarial Networks (GANs). Uses various algorithms, such as machine learning, deep learning, natural language processing (NLP), and computer vision. Limitations Can create a variety of content types. Capable of understanding and responding to human language. Future prediction Identifies patterns and uses this knowledge to create unique new forms. Leverages historical and current data to identify patterns and make predictions. Generative AI vs. AI: Use Cases There are numerous current and potential use cases for both generative AI and AI (traditional) across various industries and domains. Here are some examples of their applications. Generative AI It can produce contextually relevant and easy-to-understand creative and academic content on various topics. It can compose emails, create structure of articles and prepare annual reports. Text Generation: It can create new realistic images and also enhance or completely transform existing images. Image Generation and Editing: It can write lyrics, compose original music tracks and produce new melodies. Music Composition: It can be used for generating realistic videos of people acting. Video Synthesis: It can spot underlying patterns in the dataset and create new designs. Fashion Design: Traditional AI AI can be used to forecast weather and finances based on historical data. Predictive Analytics: Depending on user’s behavior and preferences, AI-based systems can recommend products or content in sync with users’ interests. Product recommendation: Voice assistants like use AI. is used by these applications to interact with customers and offer assistance. Chatbots and Voice Assistants: Siri, Alexa, Chatbots, and Google Assistant Natural language processing Video games use AI for controlling non-player characters (NPCs). These characters can make decisions within the gaming environment. Video Games: Summary The two technologies, Generative AI and Traditional AI, symbolize two unique approaches in the AI domain. While Generative AI excels in creativity, handling uncertainty, and new applications, Traditional AI excels in efficiency, interpretability, and specific task-solving. The two approaches have their inherent strengths and weaknesses, however, their futuristic role in the AI landscape displays immense potential for major advancements and changing applications. The advances in technology have made the two technologies compelling and critical. AI being mature and flexible is the backbone of several industries, Generative AI breaks the limits of machine capability permitting them to make, innovate, and copy in a manner that was earlier believed to be only in the hands of humans. Right from identifying patterns to producing new content, from specific task solutions to the rise of machine creativity, AI is on a path which is filled with promise and challenges. Similar to many changing technologies, the solution lies in making use of its strengths and at the same time addressing its weaknesses.

Exploring the Creative Frontiers of Generative AI Alongside Robust Traditional AI

Phineas Redux by Anthony Trollope, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . CONFUSION IN THE COURT. here CONFUSION IN THE COURT. On the following morning it was observed that before the judges took their seats Mr. Chaffanbrass entered the Court with a manner much more brisk than was expected from him now that his own work was done. As a matter of course he would be there to hear the charge, but, almost equally as a matter of course, he would be languid, silent, cross, and unenergetic. They who knew him were sure, when they saw his bearing on this morning, that he intended to do something more before the charge was given. The judges entered the Court nearly half an hour later than usual, and it was observed with surprise that they were followed by the Duke of Omnium. Mr. Chaffanbrass was on his feet before the Chief Justice had taken his seat, but the judge was the first to speak. It was observed that he held a scrap of paper in his hand, and that the barrister held a similar scrap. Then every man in the Court knew that some message had come suddenly by the wires. "I am informed, Mr. Chaffanbrass, that you wish to address the Court before I begin my charge." "Yes, my lud; and I am afraid, my lud, that I shall have to ask your ludship to delay your charge for some days, and to subject the jury to the very great inconvenience of prolonged incarceration for another week;—either to do that or to call upon the jury to acquit the prisoner. I venture to assert, on my own peril, that no jury can convict the prisoner after hearing me read that which I hold in my hand." Then Mr. Chaffanbrass paused, as though expecting that the judge would speak;—but the judge said not a word, but sat looking at the old barrister over his spectacles. Every eye was turned upon Phineas Finn, who up to this moment had heard nothing of these new tidings,—who did not in the least know on what was grounded the singularly confident,—almost insolently confident assertion which Mr. Chaffanbrass had made in his favour. On him the effect was altogether distressing. He had borne the trying week with singular fortitude, having stood there in the place of shame hour after hour, and day after day, expecting his doom. It had been to him as a lifetime of torture. He had become almost numb from the weariness of his position and the agonising strain upon his mind. The gaoler had offered him a seat from day to day, but he had always refused it, preferring to lean upon the rail and gaze upon the Court. He had almost ceased to hope for anything except the end of it. He had lost count of the days, and had begun to feel that the trial was an eternity of torture in itself. At nights he could not sleep, but during the Sunday, after Mass, he had slept all day. Then it had begun again, and when the Tuesday came he hardly knew how long it had been since that vacant Sunday. And now he heard the advocate declare, without knowing on what ground the declaration was grounded, that the trial must be postponed, or that the jury must be instructed to acquit him. "This telegram has reached us only this morning," continued Mr. Chaffanbrass. "'Mealyus had a house door-key made in Prague. We have the mould in our possession, and will bring the man who made the key to England.' Now, my lud, the case in the hands of the police, as against this man Mealyus, or Emilius, as he has chosen to call himself, broke down altogether on the presumption that he could not have let himself in and out of the house in which he had put himself to bed on the night of the murder. We now propose to prove that he had prepared himself with the means of doing so, and had done so after a fashion which is conclusive as to his having required the key for some guilty purpose. We assert that your ludship cannot allow the case to go to the jury without taking cognisance of this telegram; and we go further, and say that those twelve men, as twelve human beings with hearts in their bosoms and ordinary intelligence at their command, cannot ignore the message, even should your ludship insist upon their doing so with all the energy at your disposal." Then there was a scene in Court, and it appeared that no less than four messages had been received from Prague, all to the same effect. One had been addressed by Madame Goesler to her friend the Duchess,—and that message had caused the Duke's appearance on the scene. He had brought his telegram direct to the Old Bailey, and the Chief Justice now held it in his hand. The lawyer's clerk who had accompanied Madame Goesler had telegraphed to the Governor of the gaol, to Mr. Wickerby, and to the Attorney-General. Sir Gregory, rising with the telegram in his hand, stated that he had received the same information. "I do not see," said he, "that it at all alters the evidence as against the prisoner." "Let your evidence go to the jury, then," said Mr. Chaffanbrass, "with such observations as his lordship may choose to make on the telegram. I shall be contented. You have already got your other man in prison on a charge of bigamy." "I could not take notice of the message in charging the jury, Mr. Chaffanbrass," said the judge. "It has come, as far as we know, from the energy of a warm friend,—from that hearty friendship with which it seemed yesterday that this gentleman, the prisoner at the bar, has inspired so many men and women of high character. But it proves nothing. It is an assertion. And where should we all be, Mr. Chaffanbrass, if it should appear hereafter that the assertion is fictitious,—prepared purposely to aid the escape of a criminal?" "I defy you to ignore it, my lord." "I can only suggest, Mr. Chaffanbrass," continued the judge, "that you should obtain the consent of the gentlemen on the other side to a postponement of my charge." Then spoke out the foreman of the jury. Was it proposed that they should be locked up till somebody should come from Prague, and that then the trial should be recommenced? The system, said the foreman, under which Middlesex juries were chosen for service in the City was known to be most horribly cruel;—but cruelty to jurymen such as this had never even been heard of. Then a most irregular word was spoken. One of the jurymen declared that he was quite willing to believe the telegram. "Every one believes it," said Mr. Chaffanbrass. Then the Chief Justice scolded the juryman, and Sir Gregory Grogram scolded Mr. Chaffanbrass. It seemed as though all the rules of the Court were to be set at defiance. "Will my learned friend say that he doesn't believe it?" asked Mr. Chaffanbrass. "I neither believe nor disbelieve it; but it cannot affect the evidence," said Sir Gregory. "Then send the case to the jury," said Mr. Chaffanbrass. It seemed that everybody was talking, and Mr. Wickerby, the attorney, tried to explain it all to the prisoner over the bar of the dock, not in the lowest possible voice. The Chief Justice became angry, and the guardian of the silence of the Court bestirred himself energetically. "My lud," said Mr. Chaffanbrass, "I maintain that it is proper that the prisoner should be informed of the purport of these telegrams. Mercy demands it, and justice as well." Phineas Finn, however, did not understand, as he had known nothing about the latch-key of the house in Northumberland Street. Something, however, must be done. The Chief Justice was of opinion that, although the preparation of a latch-key in Prague could not really affect the evidence against the prisoner,—although the facts against the prisoner would not be altered, let the manufacture of that special key be ever so clearly proved,—nevertheless the jury were entitled to have before them the facts now tendered in evidence before they could be called upon to give a verdict, and that therefore they should submit themselves, in the service of their country, to the very serious additional inconvenience which they would be called upon to endure. Sundry of the jury altogether disagreed with this, and became loud in their anger. They had already been locked up for a week. "And we are quite prepared to give a verdict," said one. The judge again scolded him very severely; and as the Attorney-General did at last assent, and as the unfortunate jurymen had no power in the matter, so it was at last arranged. The trial should be postponed till time should be given for Madame Goesler and the blacksmith to reach London from Prague. If the matter was interesting to the public before, it became doubly interesting now. It was of course known to everybody that Madame Goesler had undertaken a journey to Bohemia,—and, as many supposed, a roving tour through all the wilder parts of unknown Europe, Poland, Hungary, and the Principalities for instance,—with the object of looking for evidence to save the life of Phineas Finn; and grandly romantic tales were told of her wit, her wealth, and her beauty. The story was published of the Duke of Omnium's will, only not exactly the true story. The late Duke had left her everything at his disposal, and, it was hinted that they had been privately married just before the Duke's death. Of course Madame Goesler became very popular, and the blacksmith from Prague who had made the key was expected with an enthusiasm which almost led to preparation for a public reception. And yet, let the blacksmith from Prague be ever so minute in his evidence as to the key, let it be made as clear as running water that Mealyus had caused to be constructed for him in Prague a key that would open the door of the house in Northumberland Street, the facts as proved at the trial would not be at all changed. The lawyers were much at variance with their opinions on the matter, some thinking that the judge had been altogether wrong in delaying his charge. According to them he should not have allowed Mr. Chaffanbrass to have read the telegram in Court. The charge should have been given, and the sentence of the Court should have been pronounced if a verdict of guilty were given. The Home Secretary should then have granted a respite till the coming of the blacksmith, and have extended this respite to a pardon, if advised that the circumstances of the latch-key rendered doubtful the propriety of the verdict. Others, however, maintained that in this way a grievous penalty would be inflicted on a man who, by general consent, was now held to be innocent. Not only would he, by such an arrangement of circumstances, have been left for some prolonged period under the agony of a condemnation, but, by the necessity of the case, he would lose his seat for Tankerville. It would be imperative upon the House to declare vacant by its own action a seat held by a man condemned to death for murder, and no pardon from the Queen or from the Home Secretary would absolve the House from that duty. The House, as a House of Parliament, could only recognise the verdict of the jury as to the man's guilt. The Queen, of course, might pardon whom she pleased, but no pardon from the Queen would remove the guilt implied by the sentence. Many went much further than this, and were prepared to prove that were he once condemned he could not afterwards sit in the House, even if re-elected. Now there was unquestionably an intense desire,—since the arrival of these telegrams,—that Phineas Finn should retain his seat. It may be a question whether he would not have been the most popular man in the House could he have sat there on the day after the telegrams arrived. The Attorney-General had declared,—and many others had declared with him,—that this information about the latch-key did not in the least affect the evidence as given against Mr. Finn. Could it have been possible to convict the other man, merely because he had surreptitiously caused a door-key of the house in which he lived to be made for him? And how would this new information have been received had Lord Fawn sworn unreservedly that the man he had seen running out of the mews had been Phineas Finn? It was acknowledged that the latch-key could not be accepted as sufficient evidence against Mealyus. But nevertheless the information conveyed by the telegrams altogether changed the opinion of the public as to the guilt or innocence of Phineas Finn. His life now might have been insured, as against the gallows, at a very low rate. It was felt that no jury could convict him, and he was much more pitied in being subjected to a prolonged incarceration than even those twelve unfortunate men who had felt sure that the Wednesday would have been the last day of their unmerited martyrdom. Phineas in his prison was materially circumstanced precisely as he had been before the trial. He was supplied with a profusion of luxuries, could they have comforted him; and was allowed to receive visitors. But he would see no one but his sisters,—except that he had one interview with Mr. Low. Even Mr. Low found it difficult to make him comprehend the exact condition of the affair, and could not induce him to be comforted when he did understand it. What had he to do,—how could his innocence or his guilt be concerned,—with the manufacture of a paltry key by such a one as Mealyus? How would it have been with him and with his name for ever if this fact had not been discovered? "I was to be hung or saved from hanging according to the chances of such a thing as this! I do not care for my life in a country where such injustice can be done." His friend endeavoured to assure him that even had nothing been heard of the key the jury would have acquitted him. But Phineas would not believe him. It had seemed to him as he had listened to the whole proceeding that the Court had been against him. The Attorney and Solicitor-General had appeared to him resolved upon hanging him,—men who had been, at any rate, his intimate acquaintances, with whom he had sat on the same bench, who ought to have known him. And the judge had taken the part of Lord Fawn, who had seemed to Phineas to be bent on swearing away his life. He had borne himself very gallantly during that week, having in all his intercourse with his attorney, spoken without a quaver in his voice, and without a flaw in the perspicuity of his intelligence. But now, when Mr. Low came to him, explaining to him that it was impossible that a verdict should be found against him, he was quite broken down. "There is nothing left of me," he said at the end of the interview. "I feel that I had better take to my bed and die. Even when I think of all that friends have done for me, it fails to cheer me. In this matter I should not have had to depend on friends. Had not she gone for me to that place every one would have believed me to be a murderer." And yet in his solitude he thought very much of the marvellous love shown to him by his friends. Words had been spoken which had been very sweet to him in all his misery,—words such as neither men nor women can say to each other in the ordinary intercourse of life, much as they may wish that their purport should be understood. Lord Chiltern, Lord Cantrip, and Mr. Monk had alluded to him as a man specially singled out by them for their friendship. Lady Cantrip, than whom no woman in London was more discreet, had been equally enthusiastic. Then how gracious, how tender, how inexpressibly sweet had been the words of her who had been Violet Effingham! And now the news had reached him of Madame Goesler's journey to the continent. "It was a wonderful thing for her to do," Mr. Low had said. Yes, indeed! Remembering all that had passed between them he acknowledged to himself that it was very wonderful. Were it not that his back was now broken, that he was prostrate and must remain so, a man utterly crushed by what he had endured, it might have been possible that she should do more for him even than she yet had done. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Anthony Trollope (2006). Phineas Redux. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/18640/pg18640-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

CONFUSION IN THE COURT.

Phineas Redux by Anthony Trollope, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . MR. CHAFFANBRASS FOR THE DEFENCE. here MR. CHAFFANBRASS FOR THE DEFENCE. The case for the prosecution was completed on the Saturday evening, Mrs. Bunce having been examined as the last witness on that side. She was only called upon to say that her lodger had been in the habit of letting himself in and out of her house at all hours with a latch-key;—but she insisted on saying more, and told the judge and the jury and the barristers that if they thought that Mr. Finn had murdered anybody they didn't know anything about the world in general. Whereupon Mr. Chaffanbrass said that he would like to ask her a question or two, and with consummate flattery extracted from her her opinion of her lodger. She had known him for years, and thought that, of all the gentlemen that ever were born, he was the least likely to do such a bloody-minded action. Mr. Chaffanbrass was, perhaps, right in thinking that her evidence might be as serviceable as that of the lords and countesses. During the Sunday the trial was, as a matter of course, the talk of the town. Poor Lord Fawn shut himself up, and was seen by no one;—but his conduct and evidence were discussed everywhere. At the clubs it was thought that he had escaped as well as could be expected; but he himself felt that he had been disgraced for ever. There was a very common opinion that Mr. Chaffanbrass had admitted too much when he had declared that the man whom Lord Fawn had seen was doubtless the murderer. To the minds of men generally it seemed to be less evident that the man so seen should have done the deed, than that Phineas Finn should have been that man. Was it probable that there should be two men going about in grey coats, in exactly the same vicinity, and at exactly the same hour of the night? And then the evidence which Lord Fawn had given before the magistrates was to the world at large at any rate as convincing as that given in the Court. The jury would, of course, be instructed to regard only the latter; whereas the general public would naturally be guided by the two combined. At the club it was certainly believed that the case was going against the prisoner. "You have read it all, of course," said the Duchess of Omnium to her husband, as she sat with the Observer in her hand on that Sunday morning. The Sunday papers were full of the report, and were enjoying a very extended circulation. "I wish you would not think so much about it," said the Duke. "That's very easily said, but how is one to help thinking about it? Of course I am thinking about it. You know all about the coat. It belonged to the man where Mealyus was lodging." "I will not talk about the coat, Glencora. If Mr. Finn did commit the murder it is right that he should be convicted." "But if he didn't?" "It would be doubly right that he should be acquitted. But the jury will have means of arriving at a conclusion without prejudice, which you and I cannot have; and therefore we should be prepared to take their verdict as correct." "If they find him guilty, their verdict will be damnable and false," said the Duchess. Whereupon the Duke turned away in anger, and resolved that he would say nothing more about the trial,—which resolution, however, he was compelled to break before the trial was over. "What do you think about it, Mr. Erle?" asked the other Duke. "I don't know what to think;—I only hope." "That he may be acquitted?" "Of course." "Whether guilty or innocent?" "Well;—yes. But if he is acquitted I shall believe him to have been innocent. Your Grace thinks—?" "I am as unwilling to think as you are, Mr. Erle." It was thus that people spoke of it. With the exception of some very few, all those who had known Phineas were anxious for an acquittal, though they could not bring themselves to believe that an innocent man had been put in peril of his life. On the Monday morning the trial was recommenced, and the whole day was taken up by the address which Mr. Chaffanbrass made to the jury. He began by telling them the history of the coat which lay before them, promising to prove by evidence all the details which he stated. It was not his intention, he said, to accuse any one of the murder. It was his business to defend the prisoner, not to accuse others. But, as he should prove to them, two persons had been arrested as soon as the murder had been discovered,—two persons totally unknown to each other, and who were never for a moment supposed to have acted together,—and the suspicion of the police had in the first instance pointed, not to his client, but to the other man. That other man had also quarrelled with Mr. Bonteen, and that other man was now in custody on a charge of bigamy chiefly through the instrumentality of Mr. Bonteen, who had been the friend of the victim of the supposed bigamist. With the accusation of bigamy they would have nothing to do, but he must ask them to take cognisance of that quarrel as well as of the quarrel at the club. He then named that formerly popular preacher, the Rev. Mr. Emilius, and explained that he would prove that this man, who had incurred the suspicion of the police in the first instance, had during the night of the murder been so circumstanced as to have been able to use the coat produced. He would prove also that Mr. Emilius was of precisely the same height as the man whom they had seen wearing the coat. God forbid that he should bring an accusation of murder against a man on such slight testimony. But if the evidence, as grounded on the coat, was slight against Emilius, how could it prevail at all against his client? The two coats were as different as chalk from cheese, the one being what would be called a gentleman's fashionable walking coat, and the other the wrap-rascal of such a fellow as was Mr. Meager. And yet Lord Fawn, who attempted to identify the prisoner only by his coat, could give them no opinion as to which was the coat he had seen! But Lord Fawn, who had found himself to be debarred by his conscience from repeating the opinion he had given before the magistrate as to the identity of Phineas Finn with the man he had seen, did tell them that the figure of that man was similar to the figure of him who had worn the coat on Saturday in presence of them all. This man in the street had therefore been like Mr. Emilius, and could not in the least have resembled the prisoner. Mr. Chaffanbrass would not tell the jury that this point bore strongly against Mr. Emilius, but he took upon himself to assert that it was quite sufficient to snap asunder the thin thread of circumstantial evidence by which his client was connected with the murder. A great deal more was said about Lord Fawn, which was not complimentary to that nobleman. "His lordship is an honest, slow man, who has doubtless meant to tell you the truth, but who does not understand the meaning of what he himself says. When he swore before the magistrate that he thought he could identify my client with the man in the street, he really meant that he thought that there must be identity, because he believed from other reasons that Mr. Finn was the man in the street. Mr. Bonteen had been murdered;—according to Lord Fawn's thinking had probably been murdered by Mr. Finn. And it was also probable to him that Mr. Bonteen had been murdered by the man in the street. He came thus to the conclusion that the prisoner was the man in the street. In fact, as far as the process of identifying is concerned, his lordship's evidence is altogether in favour of the prisoner. The figure seen by him we must suppose was the figure of a short man, and not of one tall and commanding in his presence, as is that of the prisoner." There were many other points on which Mr. Chaffanbrass insisted at great length;—but, chiefly, perhaps, on the improbability, he might say impossibility, that the plot for a murder so contrived should have entered into a man's head, have been completed and executed, all within a few minutes. "But under no hypothesis compatible with the allegations of the prosecution can it be conceived that the murder should have been contemplated by my client before the quarrel at the club. No, gentlemen;—the murderer had been at his work for days. He had examined the spot and measured the distances. He had dogged the steps of his victim on previous nights. In the shade of some dark doorway he had watched him from his club, and had hurried by his secret path to the spot which he had appointed for the deed. Can any man doubt that the murder has thus been committed, let who will have been the murderer? But, if so, then my client could not have done the deed." Much had been made of the words spoken at the club door. Was it probable,—was it possible,—that a man intending to commit a murder should declare how easily he could do it, and display the weapon he intended to use? The evidence given as to that part of the night's work was, he contended, altogether in the prisoner's favour. Then he spoke of the life-preserver, and gave a rather long account of the manner in which Phineas Finn had once taken two garotters prisoner in the street. All this lasted till the great men on the bench trooped out to lunch. And then Mr. Chaffanbrass, who had been speaking for nearly four hours, retired to a small room and there drank a pint of port wine. While he was doing so, Mr. Serjeant Birdbolt spoke a word to him, but he only shook his head and snarled. He was telling himself at the moment how quick may be the resolves of the eager mind,—for he was convinced that the idea of attacking Mr. Bonteen had occurred to Phineas Finn after he had displayed the life-preserver at the club door; and he was telling himself also how impossible it is for a dull conscientious man to give accurate evidence as to what he had himself seen,—for he was convinced that Lord Fawn had seen Phineas Finn in the street. But to no human being had he expressed this opinion; nor would he express it,—unless his client should be hung. After lunch he occupied nearly three hours in giving to the jury, and of course to the whole assembled Court, the details of about two dozen cases, in which apparently strong circumstantial evidence had been wrong in its tendency. In some of the cases quoted, the persons tried had been acquitted; in some, convicted and afterwards pardoned; in one pardoned after many years of punishment;—and in one the poor victim had been hung. On this he insisted with a pathetic eloquence which certainly would not have been expected from his appearance, and spoke with tears in his eyes,—real unaffected tears,—of the misery of those wretched jurymen who, in the performance of their duty, had been led into so frightful an error. Through the whole of this long recital he seemed to feel no fatigue, and when he had done with his list of judicial mistakes about five o'clock in the afternoon, went on to make what he called the very few remarks necessary as to the evidence which on the next day he proposed to produce as to the prisoner's character. He ventured to think that evidence as to the character of such a nature,—so strong, so convincing, so complete, and so free from all objection, had never yet been given in a criminal court. At six o'clock he completed his speech, and it was computed that the old man had been on his legs very nearly seven hours. It was said of him afterwards that he was taken home speechless by one of his daughters and immediately put to bed, that he roused himself about eight and ate his dinner and drank a bottle of port in his bedroom, that he then slept,—refusing to stir even when he was waked, till half-past nine in the morning, and that then he scrambled into his clothes, breakfasted, and got down to the Court in half an hour. At ten o'clock he was in his place, and nobody knew that he was any the worse for the previous day's exertion. This was on a Tuesday, the fifth day of the trial, and upon the whole perhaps the most interesting. A long array of distinguished persons,—of women as well as men,—was brought up to give to the jury their opinion as to the character of Mr. Finn. Mr. Low was the first, who having been his tutor when he was studying at the bar, knew him longer than any other Londoner. Then came his countryman Laurence Fitzgibbon, and Barrington Erle, and others of his own party who had been intimate with him. And men, too, from the opposite side of the House were brought up, Sir Orlando Drought among the number, all of whom said that they had known the prisoner well, and from their knowledge would have considered it impossible that he should have become a murderer. The two last called were Lord Cantrip and Mr. Monk, one of whom was, and the other had been, a Cabinet Minister. But before them came Lady Cantrip,—and Lady Chiltern, whom we once knew as Violet Effingham, whom this very prisoner had in early days fondly hoped to make his wife, who was still young and beautiful, and who had never before entered a public Court. There had of course been much question as to the witnesses to be selected. The Duchess of Omnium had been anxious to be one, but the Duke had forbidden it, telling his wife that she really did not know the man, and that she was carried away by a foolish enthusiasm. Lady Cantrip when asked had at once consented. She had known Phineas Finn when he had served under her husband, and had liked him much. Then what other woman's tongue should be brought to speak of the man's softness and tender bearing! It was out of the question that Lady Laura Kennedy should appear. She did not even propose it when her brother with unnecessary sternness told her it could not be so. Then his wife looked at him. "You shall go," said Lord Chiltern, "if you feel equal to it. It seems to be nonsense, but they say that it is important." "I will go," said Violet, with her eyes full of tears. Afterwards when her sister-in-law besought her to be generous in her testimony, she only smiled as she assented. Could generosity go beyond hers? Lord Chiltern preceded his wife. "I have," he said, "known Mr. Finn well, and have loved him dearly. I have eaten with him and drank with him, have ridden with him, have lived with him, and have quarrelled with him; and I know him as I do my own right hand." Then he stretched forth his arm with the palm extended. "Irrespectively of the evidence in this case you would not have thought him to be a man likely to commit such a crime?" asked Serjeant Birdbolt. "I am quite sure from my knowledge of the man that he could not commit a murder," said Lord Chiltern; "and I don't care what the evidence is." Then came his wife, and it certainly was a pretty sight to see as her husband led her up to the box and stood close beside her as she gave her evidence. There were many there who knew much of the history of her life,—who knew that passage in it of her early love,—for the tale had of course been told when it was whispered about that Lady Chiltern was to be examined as a witness. Every ear was at first strained to hear her words;—but they were audible in every corner of the Court without any effort. It need hardly be said that she was treated with the greatest deference on every side. She answered the questions very quietly, but apparently without nervousness. "Yes; she had known Mr. Finn long, and intimately, and had very greatly valued his friendship. She did so still,—as much as ever. Yes; she had known him for some years, and in circumstances which she thought justified her in saying that she understood his character. She regarded him as a man who was brave and tender-hearted, soft in feeling and manly in disposition. To her it was quite incredible that he should have committed a crime such as this. She knew him to be a man prone to forgive offences, and of a sweet nature." And it was pretty too to watch the unwonted gentleness of old Chaffanbrass as he asked the questions, and carefully abstained from putting any one that could pain her. Sir Gregory said that he had heard her evidence with great pleasure, but that he had no question to ask her himself. Then she stepped down, again took her husband's arm, and left the Court amidst a hum of almost affectionate greeting. And what must he have thought as he stood there within the dock, looking at her and listening to her? There had been months in his life when he had almost trusted that he would succeed in winning that fair, highly-born, and wealthy woman for his wife; and though he had failed, and now knew that he had never really touched her heart, that she had always loved the man whom,—though she had rejected him time after time because of the dangers of his ways,—she had at last married, yet it must have been pleasant to him, even in his peril, to hear from her own lips how well she had esteemed him. She left the Court with her veil down, and he could not catch her eye; but Lord Chiltern nodded to him in his old pleasant familiar way, as though to bid him take courage, and to tell him that all things would even yet be well with him. The evidence given by Lady Cantrip and her husband and by Mr. Monk was equally favourable. She had always regarded him as a perfect gentleman. Lord Cantrip had found him to be devoted to the service of the country,—modest, intelligent, and high-spirited. Perhaps the few words which fell from Mr. Monk were as strong as any that were spoken. "He is a man whom I have delighted to call my friend, and I have been happy to think that his services have been at the disposal of his country." Sir Gregory Grogram replied. It seemed to him that the evidence was as he had left it. It would be for the jury to decide, under such directions as his lordship might be pleased to give them, how far that evidence brought the guilt home to the prisoner. He would use no rhetoric in pushing the case against the prisoner; but he must submit to them that his learned friend had not shown that acquaintance with human nature which the gentleman undoubtedly possessed in arguing that there had lacked time for the conception and execution of the crime. Then, at considerable length, he strove to show that Mr. Chaffanbrass had been unjustly severe upon Lord Fawn. It was late in the afternoon when Sir Gregory had finished his speech, and the judge's charge was reserved for a sixth day. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Anthony Trollope (2006). Phineas Redux. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/18640/pg18640-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

MR. CHAFFANBRASS FOR THE DEFENCE.

LOOKING SOUTH.

MOTOR-CARS

THE BROWBOROUGH TRIAL.

The Way We Live Now by Anthony Trollope is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . RUBY RUGGLES OBEYS HER GRANDFATHER here RUBY RUGGLES OBEYS HER GRANDFATHER. The next day there was great surprise at Sheep's Acre farm, which communicated itself to the towns of Bungay and Beccles, and even affected the ordinary quiet life of Carbury Manor. Ruby Ruggles had gone away, and at about twelve o'clock in the day the old farmer became aware of the fact. She had started early, at about seven in the morning; but Ruggles himself had been out long before that, and had not condescended to ask for her when he returned to the house for his breakfast. There had been a bad scene up in the bedroom overnight, after John Crumb had left the farm. The old man in his anger had tried to expel the girl; but she had hung on to the bed-post and would not go; and he had been frightened, when the maid came up crying and screaming murder. "You'll be out o' this to-morrow as sure as my name's Dannel Ruggles," said the farmer panting for breath. But for the gin which he had taken he would hardly have struck her;—but he had struck her, and pulled her by the hair, and knocked her about;—and in the morning she took him at his word and was away. About twelve he heard from the servant girl that she had gone. She had packed a box and had started up the road carrying the box herself. "Grandfather says I'm to go, and I'm gone," she had said to the girl. At the first cottage she had got a boy to carry her box into Beccles, and to Beccles she had walked. For an hour or two Ruggles sat, quiet, within the house, telling himself that she might do as she pleased with herself,—that he was well rid of her, and that from henceforth he would trouble himself no more about her. But by degrees there came upon him a feeling half of compassion and half of fear, with perhaps some mixture of love, instigating him to make search for her. She had been the same to him as a child, and what would people say of him if he allowed her to depart from him after this fashion? Then he remembered his violence the night before, and the fact that the servant girl had heard if she had not seen it. He could not drop his responsibility in regard to Ruby, even if he would. So, as a first step, he sent in a message to John Crumb, at Bungay, to tell him that Ruby Ruggles had gone off with a box to Beccles. John Crumb went open-mouthed with the news to Joe Mixet, and all Bungay soon knew that Ruby Ruggles had run away. After sending his message to Crumb the old man still sat thinking, and at last made up his mind that he would go to his landlord. He held a part of his farm under Roger Carbury, and Roger Carbury would tell him what he ought to do. A great trouble had come upon him. He would fain have been quiet, but his conscience and his heart and his terrors all were at work together,—and he found that he could not eat his dinner. So he had out his cart and horse and drove himself off to Carbury Hall. It was past four when he started, and he found the squire seated on the terrace after an early dinner, and with him was Father Barham, the priest. The old man was shown at once round into the garden, and was not long in telling his story. There had been words between him and his granddaughter about her lover. Her lover had been accepted and had come to the farm to claim his bride. Ruby had behaved very badly. The old man made the most of Ruby's bad behaviour, and of course as little as possible of his own violence. But he did explain that there had been threats used when Ruby refused to take the man, and that Ruby had, this day, taken herself off. "I always thought it was settled they were to be man and wife," said Roger. "It was settled, squoire;—and he war to have five hun'erd pound down;—money as I'd saved myself. Drat the jade." "Didn't she like him, Daniel?" "She liked him well enough till she'd seed somebody else." Then old Daniel paused, and shook his head, and was evidently the owner of a secret. The squire got up and walked round the garden with him,—and then the secret was told. The farmer was of opinion that there was something between the girl and Sir Felix. Sir Felix some weeks since had been seen near the farm and on the same occasion Ruby had been observed at some little distance from the house with her best clothes on. "He's been so little here, Daniel," said the squire. "It goes as tinder and a spark o' fire, that does," said the farmer. "Girls like Ruby don't want no time to be wooed by one such as that, though they'll fall-lall with a man like John Crumb for years." "I suppose she's gone to London." "Don't know nothing of where she's gone, squoire;—only she have gone some'eres. May be it's Lowestoffe. There's lots of quality at Lowestoffe a' washing theyselves in the sea." Then they returned to the priest, who might be supposed to be cognisant of the guiles of the world and competent to give advice on such an occasion as this. "If she was one of our people," said Father Barham, "we should have her back quick enough." "Would ye now?" said Ruggles, wishing at the moment that he and all his family had been brought up as Roman Catholics. "I don't see how you would have more chance of catching her than we have," said Carbury. "She'd catch herself. Wherever she might be she'd go to the priest, and he wouldn't leave her till he'd seen her put on the way back to her friends." "With a flea in her lug," suggested the farmer. "Your people never go to a clergyman in their distress. It's the last thing they'd think of. Any one might more probably be regarded as a friend than the parson. But with us the poor know where to look for sympathy." "She ain't that poor, neither," said the grandfather. "She had money with her?" "I don't know just what she had; but she ain't been brought up poor. And I don't think as our Ruby'd go of herself to any clergyman. It never was her way." "It never is the way with a Protestant," said the priest. "We'll say no more about that for the present," said Roger, who was waxing wroth with the priest. That a man should be fond of his own religion is right; but Roger Carbury was beginning to think that Father Barham was too fond of his religion. "What had we better do? I suppose we shall hear something of her at the railway. There are not so many people leaving Beccles but that she may be remembered." So the waggonette was ordered, and they all prepared to go off to the station together. But before they started John Crumb rode up to the door. He had gone at once to the farm on hearing of Ruby's departure, and had followed the farmer from thence to Carbury. Now he found the squire and the priest and the old man standing around as the horses were being put to the carriage. "Ye ain't a' found her, Mr. Ruggles, ha' ye?" he asked as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "Noa;—we ain't a' found no one yet." "If it was as she was to come to harm, Mr. Carbury, I'd never forgive myself,—never," said Crumb. "As far as I can understand it is no doing of yours, my friend," said the squire. "In one way, it ain't; and in one way it is. I was over there last night a bothering of her. She'd a' come round may be, if she'd a' been left alone. She wouldn't a' been off now, only for our going over to Sheep's Acre. But,—oh!" "What is it, Mr. Crumb?" "He's a coosin o' yours, squoire; and long as I've known Suffolk, I've never known nothing but good o' you and yourn. But if your baronite has been and done this! Oh, Mr. Carbury! If I was to wring his neck round, you wouldn't say as how I was wrong; would ye, now?" Roger could hardly answer the question. On general grounds the wringing of Sir Felix's neck, let the immediate cause for such a performance have been what it might, would have seemed to him to be a good deed. The world would be better, according to his thinking, with Sir Felix out of it than in it. But still the young man was his cousin and a Carbury, and to such a one as John Crumb he was bound to defend any member of his family as far as he might be defensible. "They says as how he was groping about Sheep's Acre when he was last here, a hiding himself and skulking behind hedges. Drat 'em all. They've gals enough of their own,—them fellows. Why can't they let a fellow alone? I'll do him a mischief, Master Roger; I wull;—if he's had a hand in this." Poor John Crumb! When he had his mistress to win he could find no words for himself; but was obliged to take an eloquent baker with him to talk for him. Now in his anger he could talk freely enough. "But you must first learn that Sir Felix has had anything to do with this, Mr. Crumb." "In coorse; in coorse. That's right. That's right. Must l'arn as he did it, afore I does it. But when I have l'arned!"— And John Crumb clenched his fist as though a very short lesson would suffice for him upon this occasion. They all went to the Beccles Station, and from thence to the Beccles post office,—so that Beccles soon knew as much about it as Bungay. At the railway station Ruby was distinctly remembered. She had taken a second-class ticket by the morning train for London, and had gone off without any appearance of secrecy. She had been decently dressed, with a hat and cloak, and her luggage had been such as she might have been expected to carry, had all her friends known that she was going. So much was made clear at the railway station, but nothing more could be learned there. Then a message was sent by telegraph to the station in London, and they all waited, loitering about the post office, for a reply. One of the porters in London remembered seeing such a girl as was described, but the man who was supposed to have carried her box for her to a cab had gone away for the day. It was believed that she had left the station in a four-wheel cab. "I'll be arter her. I'll be arter her at once," said John Crumb. But there was no train till night, and Roger Carbury was doubtful whether his going would do any good. It was evidently fixed on Crumb's mind that the first step towards finding Ruby would be the breaking of every bone in the body of Sir Felix Carbury. Now it was not at all apparent to the squire that his cousin had had anything to do with this affair. It had been made quite clear to him that the old man had quarrelled with his granddaughter and had threatened to turn her out of his house, not because she had misbehaved with Sir Felix, but on account of her refusing to marry John Crumb. John Crumb had gone over to the farm expecting to arrange it all, and up to that time there had been no fear about Felix Carbury. Nor was it possible that there should have been communication between Ruby and Felix since the quarrel at the farm. Even if the old man were right in supposing that Ruby and the baronet had been acquainted,—and such acquaintance could not but be prejudicial to the girl,—not on that account would the baronet be responsible for her abduction. John Crumb was thirsting for blood and was not very capable in his present mood of arguing the matter out coolly, and Roger, little as he loved his cousin, was not desirous that all Suffolk should know that Sir Felix Carbury had been thrashed within an inch of his life by John Crumb of Bungay. "I'll tell you what I'll do," said he, putting his hand kindly on the old man's shoulder. "I'll go up myself by the first train to-morrow. I can trace her better than Mr. Crumb can do, and you will both trust me." "There's not one in the two counties I'd trust so soon," said the old man. "But you'll let us know the very truth," said John Crumb. Roger Carbury made him an indiscreet promise that he would let him know the truth. So the matter was settled, and the grandfather and lover returned together to Bungay. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Anthony Trollope (2004). The Way We Live Now. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/5231/pg5231-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

RUBY RUGGLES OBEYS HER GRANDFATHER

THE AMERICAN POSTAL TREATY—THE QUESTION OF COPYRIGHT WITH AMERICA—FOUR MORE NOVELS.

It was on Saturday that the white flag was hoisted at Nimes

The last two exorcisms

Urbain Grandier by Alexandre Dumas, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . Chapter V URBAIN GRANDIER - CHAPTER V Since October 13th, the day on which the demons had been expelled, life at the convent seemed to have returned to its usual quiet; but Grandier did not let himself be lulled to sleep by the calm: he knew those with whom he was contending too well to imagine for an instant that he would hear no more of them; and when the bailiff expressed pleasure at this interval of repose, Grandier said that it would not last long, as the nuns were only conning new parts, in order to carry on the drama in a more effective manner than ever. And in fact, on November 22nd, Rene Mannouri, surgeon to the convent, was sent to one of his colleagues, named Gaspard Joubert, to beg him to come, bringing some of the physicians of the town with him, to visit the two sisters, who were again tormented by evil spirits. Mannouri, however, had gone to the wrong man, for Joubert had a frank and loyal character, and hated everything that was underhand. Being determined to take no part in the business, except in a public and judicial manner, he applied at once to the bailiff to know if it was by his orders that he was called in. The bailiff said it was not, and summoned Mannouri before him to ask him by whose authority he had sent for Joubert. Mannouri declared that the ‘touriere’ had run in a fright to his house, saying that the nuns had never been worse possessed than now, and that the director, Mignon, begged him to come at once to the convent, bringing with him all the doctors he could find. The bailiff, seeing that fresh plots against Grandier were being formed, sent for him and warned him that Barre had come over from Chinon the day before, and had resumed his exorcisms at the convent, adding that it was currently reported in the town that the mother superior and Sister Claire were again tormented by devils. The news neither astonished nor discouraged Grandier, who replied, with his usual smile of disdain, that it was evident his enemies were hatching new plots against him, and that as he had instituted proceedings against them for the former ones, he would take the same course with regard to these. At the same time, knowing how impartial the bailiff was, he begged him to accompany the doctors and officials to the convent, and to be present at the exorcisms, and should any sign of real possession manifest itself, to sequester the afflicted nuns at once, and cause them to be examined by other persons than Mignon and Barre, whom he had such good cause to distrust. The bailiff wrote to the king’s attorney, who, notwithstanding his bias against Grandier, was forced to see that the conclusions arrived at were correct, and having certified this in writing, he at once sent his clerk to the convent to inquire if the superior were still possessed. In case of an affirmative reply being given, the clerk had instructions to warn Mignon and Barre that they were not to undertake exorcisms unless in presence of the bailiff and of such officials and doctors as he might choose to bring with him, and that they would disobey at their peril; he was also to tell them that Grandier’s demands to have the nuns sequestered and other exorcists called in were granted. Mignon and Barre listened while the clerk read his instructions, and then said they refused to recognise the jurisdiction of the bailiff in this case; that they had been summoned by the mother superior and Sister Claire when their strange illness returned, an illness which they were convinced was nothing else than possession by evil spirits; that they had hitherto carried out their exorcisms under the authority of a commission given them by the Bishop of Poitiers; and as the time for which they had permission had not yet expired; they would continue to exorcise as often as might be necessary. They had, however, given notice to the worthy prelate of what was going on, in order that he might either come himself or send other exorcists as best suited him, so that a valid opinion as to the reality, of the possession might be procured, for up to the present the worldly and unbelieving had taken upon themselves to declare in an off-hand manner that the whole affair was a mixture of fraud and delusion, in contempt of the glory of God and the Catholic religion. As to the rest of the message, they would not, in any way prevent the bailiff and the other officials, with as many medical men as they chose to bring, from seeing the nuns, at least until they heard from the bishop, from whom they expected a letter next day. But it was for the nuns themselves to say whether it was convenient for them to receive visitors; as far as concerned themselves, they desired to renew their protest, and declared they could not accept the bailiff as their judge, and did not think that it could be legal for them to refuse to obey a command from their ecclesiastical superiors, whether with relation to exorcism or any other thing of which the ecclesiastical courts properly took cognisance. The clerk brought this answer to the bailiff, and he, thinking it was better to wait for the arrival of the bishop or of fresh orders from him, put off his visit to the convent until the next day. But the next day came without anything being heard of the prelate himself or of a messenger from him. Early in the morning the bailiff went to the convent, but was not admitted; he then waited patiently until noon, and seeing that no news had arrived from Dissay, and that the convent gates were still closed against him, he granted a second petition of Grandier’s, to the effect that Byre and Mignon should be prohibited from questioning the superior and the other nuns in a manner tending to blacken the character of the petitioner or any other person. Notice of this prohibition was served the same day on Barre and on one nun chosen to represent the community. Barre did not pay the slightest attention to this notice, but kept on asserting that the bailiff had no right to prevent his obeying the commands of his bishop, and declaring that henceforward he would perform all exorcisms solely under ecclesiastical sanction, without any reference to lay persons, whose unbelief and impatience impaired the solemnity with which such rites should be conducted. The best part of the day having gone over without any sign of either bishop or messenger, Grandier presented a new petition to the bailiff. The bailiff at once summoned all the officers of the bailiwick and the attorneys of the king, in order to lay it before them; but the king’s attorneys refused to consider the matter, declaring upon their honour that although they did not accuse Grandier of being the cause, yet they believed that the nuns were veritably possessed, being convinced by the testimony of the devout ecclesiastics in whose presence the evil spirits had come out. This was only the ostensible reason for their refusal, the real one being that the advocate was a relation of Mignon’s, and the attorney a son-in-law of Trinquant’s, to whose office he had succeeded. Thus Grandier, against whom were all the ecclesiastical judges, began to feel as if he were condemned beforehand by the judges of the royal courts, for he knew how very short was the interval between the recognition of the possession as a fact and the recognition of himself as its author. Nevertheless, in spite of the formal declarations of the king’s advocate and attorney, the bailiff ordered the superior and the lay sister to be removed to houses in town, each to be accompanied by a nun as companion. During their absence from the convent they were to be looked after by exorcists, by women of high character and position, as well as by physicians and attendants, all of whom he himself would appoint, all others being forbidden access to the nuns without his permission. The clerk was again sent to the convent with a copy of this decision, but the superior having listened to the reading of the document, answered that in her own name and that of the sisterhood she refused to recognise the jurisdiction of the bailiff; that she had already received directions from the Bishop of Poitiers, dated 18th November, explaining the measures which were to be taken in the matter, and she would gladly send a copy of these directions to the bailiff, to prevent his pleading ignorance of them; furthermore, she demurred to the order for her removal, having vowed to live always secluded in a convent, and that no one could dispense her from this vow but the bishop. This protest having been made in the presence of Madame de Charnisay, aunt of two of the nuns, and Surgeon Mannouri, who was related to another, they both united in drawing up a protest against violence, in case the bailiff should insist on having his orders carried out, declaring that, should he make the attempt, they would resist him, as if he were a mere private individual. This document being duly signed and witnessed was immediately sent to the bailiff by the hand of his own clerk, whereupon the bailiff ordered that preparations should be made with regard to the sequestration, and announced that the next day, the 24th November, he would repair to the convent and be present at the exorcisms. The next day accordingly, at the appointed hour, the bailiff summoned Daniel Roger, Vincent de Faux, Gaspard Joubert, and Matthieu Fanson, all four physicians, to his presence, and acquainting them with his reasons for having called them, asked them to accompany him to the convent to examine, with the most scrupulous impartiality, two nuns whom he would point out, in order to discover if their illness were feigned, or arose from natural or supernatural causes. Having thus instructed them as to his wishes, they all set out for the convent. They were shown into the chapel and placed close to the altar, being separated by a grating from the choir, in which the nuns who sang usually sat. In a few moments the superior was carried in on a small bed, which was laid down before the grating. Barre then said mass, during which the superior went into violent convulsions. She threw her arms about, her fingers were clenched, her cheeks enormously inflated, and her eyes turned up so that only the whites could be seen. The mass finished, Barre approached her to administer the holy communion and to commence the exorcism. Holding the holy wafer in his hand, he said— “Adora Deum tuum, creatorem tuum” (Adore God, thy Creator). The superior hesitated, as if she found great difficulty in making this act of love, but at length she said— “Adoro te” (I adore Thee). “Quem adoras?” (Whom dost thou adore?) “Jesus Christus” (Jesus Christ), answered the nun, quite unconscious that the verb adorn governs accusative. This mistake, which no sixth-form boy would make, gave rise to bursts of laughter in the church; and Daniel Douin, the provost’s assessor, was constrained to say aloud— “There’s a devil for you, who does not know much about transitive verbs.” Barre perceiving the bad impression that the superior’s nominative had made, hastened to ask her— “Quis est iste quem adoras?” (Who is it whom thou dost adore?) His hope was that she would again reply “Jesus Christus,” but he was disappointed. “Jesu Christe,” was her answer. Renewed shouts of laughter greeted this infraction of one of the most elementary rules of syntax, and several of those present exclaimed: “Oh, your reverence, what very poor Latin!” Barre pretended not to hear, and next asked what was the name of the demon who had taken possession of her. The poor superior, who was greatly confused by the unexpected effect of her last two answers, could not speak for a long time; but at length with great trouble she brought out the name Asmodee, without daring to latinise it. The exorcist then inquired how many devils the superior had in her body, and to this question she replied quite fluently: “Sex” (Six). The bailiff upon this requested Barre to ask the chief devil how many evil spirits he had with him. But the need for this answer had been foreseen, and the nun unhesitatingly returned— “Quinque” (Five). This answer raised Asmodee somewhat in the opinion of those present; but when the bailiff adjured the superior to repeat in Greek what she had just said in Latin she made no reply, and on the adjuration being renewed she immediately recovered her senses. The examination of the superior being thus cut short, a little nun who appeared for the first time in public was brought forward. She began by twice pronouncing the name of Grandier with a loud laugh; then turning to the bystanders, called out— “For all your number, you can do nothing worth while.” As it was easy to see that nothing of importance was to be expected from this new patient, she was soon suppressed, and her place taken by the lay sister Claire who had already made her debut in the mother superior’s room. Hardly had she entered the choir than she uttered a groan, but as soon as they placed her on the little bed on which the other nuns had lain, she gave way to uncontrollable laughter, and cried out between the paroxysms— “Grandier, Grandier, you must buy some at the market.” Barre at once declared that these wild and whirling words were a proof of possession, and approached to exorcise the demon; but Sister Claire resisted, and pretending to spit in the face of the exorcist, put out her tongue at him, making indecent gestures, using a word in harmony with her actions. This word being in the vernacular was understood by everyone and required no interpretation. The exorcist then conjured her to give the name of the demon who was in her, and she replied— “Grandier.” But Barre by repeating his question gave her to understand that she had made a mistake, whereupon she corrected herself and said— “Elimi.” Nothing in the world could induce her to reveal the number of evil spirits by whom Elimi was accompanied, so that Barre, seeing that it was useless to press her on this point, passed on to the next question. “Quo pacto ingressus est daemon.” (By what pact did the demon get in?). “Duplex” (Double), returned Sister Claire. This horror of the ablative, when the ablative was absolutely necessary, aroused once more the hilarity of the audience, and proved that Sister Claire’s devil was just as poor a Latin scholar as the superior’s, and Barre, fearing some new linguistic eccentricity on the part of the evil spirit, adjourned the meeting to another day. The paucity of learning shown in the answers of the nuns being sufficient to convince any fairminded person that the whole affair was a ridiculous comedy, the bailiff felt encouraged to persevere until he had unravelled the whole plot. Consequently, at three o’clock in the afternoon, he returned to the convent, accompanied by his clerk, by several magistrates, and by a considerable number of the best known people of Loudun, and asked to see the superior. Being admitted, he announced to Barre that he had come to insist on the superior being separated from Sister Claire, so that each could be exorcised apart. Barre dared not refuse before such a great number of witnesses, therefore the superior was isolated and the exorcisms begun all over again. Instantly the convulsions returned, just as in the morning, only that now she twisted her feet into the form of hooks, which was a new accomplishment. Having adjured her several times, the exorcist succeeded in making her repeat some prayers, and then sounded her as to the name and number of the demons in possession, whereupon she said three times that there was one called Achaos. The bailiff then directed Barre to ask if she were possessed ‘ex pacto magi, aut ex Aura voluntate Dei’ (by a pact with a sorcerer or by the pure will of God), to which the superior answered “Non est voluutas Dei” (Not by the will of God). Upon this, Barre dreading more questions from the bystanders, hastily resumed his own catechism by asking who was the sorcerer. “Urbanus,” answered the superior. “Est-ne Urbanus papa” (Is it Pope Urban?), asked the exorcist. “Grandier,” replied the superior. “Quare ingressus es in corpus hujus puellae” (Why did you enter the body of this maiden?), said Barre. “Propter praesentiam tuum” (Because of your presence), answered the superior. At this point the bailiff, seeing no reason why the dialogue between Barre and the superior should ever come to an end, interposed and demanded that questions suggested by him and the other officials present should be put to the superior, promising that if she answered three of four such questions correctly, he, and those with him, would believe in the reality of the possession, and would certify to that effect. Barre accepted the challenge, but unluckily just at that moment the superior regained consciousness, and as it was already late, everyone retired. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Alexandre Dumas (2004). Urbain Grandier. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/2746/pg2746-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html .

October 13th, the day on which the demons had been expelled

The Big Four by Agatha Christie, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . THE BAITED TRAP XII. THE BAITED TRAP It was mid-January—a typical English winter day in London, damp and dirty. Poirot and I were sitting in two chairs well drawn up to the fire. I was aware of my friend looking at me with a quizzical smile, the meaning of which I could not fathom. "A penny for your thoughts," I said lightly. "I was thinking, my friend, that at midsummer, when you first arrived, you told me that you proposed to be in this country for a couple of months only." "Did I say that?" I asked, rather awkwardly. "I don't remember." Poirot's smile broadened. "You did, mon ami. Since then, you have changed your plan, is it not so?" "Er—yes, I have." "And why is that?" "Dash it all, Poirot, you don't think I'm going to leave you all alone when you're up against a thing like the 'Big Four,' do you?" Poirot nodded gently. "Just as I thought. You are a staunch friend, Hastings. It is to serve me that you remain on here. And your wife—little Cinderella as you call her, what does she say?" "I haven't gone into details, of course, but she understands. She'd be the last one to wish me to turn my back on a pal." "Yes, yes, she, too, is a loyal friend. But it is going to be a long business, perhaps." I nodded, rather discouraged. "Six months already," I mused, "and where are we? You know, Poirot, I can't help thinking that we ought to—well, to do something." "Always so energetic, Hastings! And what precisely would you have me do?" This was somewhat of a poser, but I was not going to withdraw from my position. "We ought to take the offensive," I urged. "What have we done all this time?" "More than you think, my friend. After all, we have established the identity of Number Two and Number Three, and we have learnt more than a little about the ways and methods of Number Four." I brightened up a little. As Poirot put it, things didn't sound so bad. "Oh! Yes, Hastings, we have done a great deal. It is true that I am not in a position to accuse either Ryland or Madame Olivier—who would believe me? You remember I thought once I had Ryland successfully cornered? Nevertheless I have made my suspicions known in certain quarters—the highest—Lord Aldington, who enlisted my help in the matter of the stolen submarine plans, is fully cognisant of all my information respecting the Big Four—and while others may doubt, he believes. Ryland and Madame Olivier, and Li Chang Yen himself may go their ways, but there is a searchlight turned on all their movements." "And Number Four?" I asked. "As I said just now—I am beginning to know and understand his methods. You may smile, Hastings—but to penetrate a man's personality, to know exactly what he will do under any given circumstances—that is the beginning of success. It is a duel between us, and whilst he is constantly giving away his mentality to me, I endeavour to let him know little or nothing of mine. He is in the light, I in the shade. I tell you, Hastings, that every day they fear me the more for my chosen inactivity." "They've let us alone, anyway," I observed. "There have been no more attempts on your life, and no ambushes of any kind." "No," said Poirot thoughtfully. "On the whole, that rather surprises me. Especially as there are one or two fairly obvious ways of getting at us which I should have thought certain to have occurred to them. You catch my meaning, perhaps?" "An infernal machine of some kind?" I hazarded. Poirot made a sharp click with his tongue expressive of impatience. "But no! I appeal to your imagination, and you can suggest nothing more subtle than bombs in the fireplace. Well, well, I have need of some matches, I will promenade myself despite the weather. Pardon, my friend, but is it possible that you read The Future of the Argentine, Mirror of Society, Cattle Breeding, The Clue of Crimson and Sport in the Rockies at one and the same time?" I laughed, and admitted that The Clue of Crimson was at present engaging my sole attention. Poirot shook his head sadly. "But replace then the others on the bookshelf! Never, never shall I see you embrace the order and the method. Mon Dieu, what then is a bookshelf for?" I apologised humbly, and Poirot, after replacing the offending volumes, each in its appointed place, went out and left me to uninterrupted enjoyment of my selected book. I must admit, however, that I was half asleep when Mrs. Pearson's knock at the door aroused me. "A telegram for you, captain." I tore the orange envelope open without much interest. Then I sat as though turned to stone. It was a cable from Bronsen, my manager out at the South American ranch, and it ran as follows:— "Mrs. Hastings disappeared yesterday, feared been kidnapped by some gang calling itself big four cable instructions have notified police but no clue as yet." Bronsen. I waved Mrs. Pearson out of the room, and sat as though stunned, reading the words over and over again. Cinderella—kidnapped! In the hands of the infamous Big Four! God, what could I do? Poirot! I must have Poirot. He would advise me. He would checkmate them somehow. In a few minutes now, he would be back. I must wait patiently until then. But Cinderella—in the hands of the Big Four! Another knock. Mrs. Pearson put her head in once more. "A note for you, captain—brought by a heathen Chinaman. He's a-waiting downstairs." I seized it from her. It was brief and to the point. "If you ever wish to see your wife again, go with the bearer of this note immediately. Leave no message for your friend or she will suffer." It was signed with a big 4. What ought I to have done? What would you who read have done in my place? I had no time to think. I saw only one thing—Cinderella in the power of those devils. I must obey—I dare not risk a hair of her head. I must go with this Chinaman and follow whither he led. It was a trap, yes, and it meant certain capture and possible death, but it was baited with the person dearest to me in the whole world, and I dared not hesitate. What irked me most was to leave no word for Poirot. Once set him on my track, and all might yet be well? Dare I risk it? Apparently I was under no supervision, but yet I hesitated. It would have been so easy for the Chinaman to come up and assure himself that I was keeping to the letter of the command. Why didn't he? His very abstention made me more suspicious. I had seen so much of the omnipotence of the Big Four that I credited them with almost super-human powers. For all I know, even the little bedraggled servant girl might be one of their agents. No, I dared not risk it. But one thing I could do, leave the telegram. He would know then that Cinderella had disappeared, and who was responsible for her disappearance. All this passed through my head in less time than it takes to tell, and I had clapped my hat on my head and was descending the stairs to where my guide waited, in a little over a minute. The bearer of the message was a tall impassive Chinaman, neatly but rather shabbily dressed. He bowed and spoke to me. His English was perfect, but he spoke with a slight sing-song intonation. "You Captain Hastings?" "Yes," I said. "You give me note, please." I had foreseen the request, and handed him over the scrap of paper without a word. But that was not all. "You have telegram to-day, yes? Come along just now? From South America, yes?" I realised anew the excellence of their espionage system—or it might have been a shrewd guess. Bronsen was bound to cable me. They would wait until the cable was delivered and would strike hard upon it. No good could come of denying what was palpably true. "Yes," I said. "I did get a telegram." "You fetch him, yes? Fetch him now." I ground my teeth, but what could I do. I ran upstairs again. As I did so, I thought of confiding in Mrs. Pearson, at any rate as far as Cinderella's disappearance went. She was on the landing, but close behind her was the little maid-servant, and I hesitated. If she was a spy—the words of the note danced before my eyes. "... she will suffer...." I passed into the sitting-room without speaking. I took up the telegram and was about to pass out again when an idea struck me. Could I not leave some sign which would mean nothing to my enemies but which Poirot himself would find significant. I hurried across to the bookcase and tumbled out four books on to the floor. No fear of Poirot's not seeing them. They would outrage his eyes immediately—and coming on top of his little lecture, surely he would find them unusual. Next I put a shovelful of coal on the fire and managed to spill four knobs into the grate. I had done all I could—pray Heaven Poirot would read the sign aright. I hurried down again. The Chinaman took the telegram from me, read it, then placed it in his pocket and with a nod beckoned me to follow him. It was a long weary march that he led me. Once we took a bus and once we went for some considerable way in a train, and always our route led us steadily eastward. We went through strange districts, the existence of which I had never dreamed of. We were down by the docks now, I knew, and I realised that I was being taken into the heart of Chinatown. In spite of myself I shivered. Still my guide plodded on, turning and twisting through mean streets and byways, until at last he stopped at a dilapidated house and rapped four times upon the door. It was opened immediately by another Chinaman who stood aside to let us pass in. The clanging to of the door behind me was the knell of my last hopes. I was indeed in the hands of the enemy. I was now handed over to the second Chinaman. He led me down some rickety stairs and into a cellar which was filled with bales and casks and which exhaled a pungent odour, as of Eastern spices. I felt wrapped all round with the atmosphere of the East, tortuous, cunning, sinister— Suddenly my guide rolled aside two of the casks, and I saw a low tunnel-like opening in the wall. He motioned me to go ahead. The tunnel was of some length, and it was just too low for me to stand upright. At last, however, it broadened out into a passage, and a few minutes later we stood in another cellar. My Chinaman went forward, and rapped four times on one of the walls. A whole section of the wall swung out, leaving a narrow doorway. I passed through, and to my utter astonishment found myself in a kind of Arabian Nights' palace. A low long subterranean chamber hung with rich oriental silks, brilliantly lighted and fragrant with perfumes and spices. There five or six silk covered divans, and exquisite carpets of Chinese workmanship covered the ground. At the end of the room was a curtained recess. From behind these curtains came a voice. "You have brought our honoured guest?" "Excellency, he is here," replied my guide. "Let our guest enter," was the answer. At the same moment, the curtains were drawn aside by an unseen hand, and I was facing an immense cushioned divan on which sat a tall thin Oriental dressed in wonderfully embroidered robes, and clearly, by the length of his finger nails, a great man. "Be seated, I pray you, Captain Hastings," he said, with a wave of his hand. "You acceded to my request to come immediately, I am glad to see." "Who are you?" I asked. "Li Chang Yen?" "Indeed no, I am but the humblest of the master's servants. I carry out his behests, that is all—as do other of his servants in other countries—in South America, for instance." I advanced a step. "Where is she? What have you done with her out there?" "She is in a place of safety—where none will find her. As yet, she is unharmed. You observe that I say—as yet!" Cold shivers ran down my spine as I confronted this smiling devil. "What do you want?" I cried. "Money?" "My dear Captain Hastings. We have no designs on your small savings, I can assure you. Not—pardon me—a very intelligent suggestion on your part. Your colleague would not have made it, I fancy." "I suppose," I said heavily, "you wanted to get me into your toils. Well, you have succeeded. I have come here with my eyes open. Do what you like with me, and let her go. She knows nothing, and she can be no possible use to you. You've used her to get hold of me—you've got me all right, and that settles it." The smiling Oriental caressed his smooth cheek, watching me obliquely out of his narrow eyes. "You go too fast," he said purringly. "That does not quite—settle it. In fact, to 'get hold of you' as you express it, is not really our objective. But through you, we hope to get hold of your friend, M. Hercule Poirot." "I'm afraid you won't do that," I said, with a short laugh. "What I suggest is this," continued the other, his words running on as though he had not heard me. "You will write M. Hercule Poirot a letter, such a letter as will induce him to hasten hither and join you." "I shall do no such thing," I said angrily. "The consequences of refusal will be disagreeable." "Damn your consequences." "The alternative might be death!" A nasty shiver ran down my spine, but I endeavoured to put a bold face upon it. "It's no good threatening me, and bullying me. Keep your threats for Chinese cowards." "My threats are very real ones, Captain Hastings. I ask you again, will you write this letter?" "I will not, and what's more, you daren't kill me. You'd have the police on your tracks in no time." My interlocutor clapped his hands swiftly. Two Chinese attendants appeared as it were out of the blue, and pinioned me by both arms. Their master said something rapidly to them in Chinese, and they dragged me across the floor to a spot in one corner of the big chamber. One of them stooped, and suddenly, without the least warning, the flooring gave beneath my feet. But for the restraining hand of the other man I should have gone down the yawning gap beneath me. It was inky black, and I could hear the rushing of water. "The river," said my questioner from his place on the divan. "Think well, Captain Hastings. If you refuse again, you go headlong to eternity, to meet your death in the dark waters below. For the last time, will you write that letter?" I'm not braver than most men. I admit frankly that I was scared to death, and in a blue funk. That Chinese devil meant business, I was sure of that. It was good-bye to the good old world. In spite of myself, my voice wobbled a little as I answered. "For the last time, no! To hell with your letter!" Then involuntarily I closed my eyes and breathed a short prayer. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Agatha Christie (2023). The Big Four. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/70114/pg70114-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html .

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