Loading...
HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times-Advocate, 1933-12-07, Page 6THURSDAY, DECEMBER 7» 1933 THE EXETER TIMES-ADVOCATE Captain Midnight by L. Arthur Cunningham “Ah."’ Bigot scowled darkly. “It is this man they call Captain Mid­ night. Mon dieu. You too have en­ countered him, eh! He has stolen thousands of crowns from us and all our best efforts to take him and swing him in the air on a rope for crows to feast on, have been in vain. He is slippery. But he will be taken if “Have they no idea or his ident­ ity. Has no one ever seen the face behind that masque.” Bigot looked thoughtfully at his hands, then raised his dark eyes to Jean Pierre’s and smiled queerly. “Yes,” he said strainedly. One has seen his face.” He bit nervous­ ly at his thumb nail and moved restlessly as if to shake off an un­ pleasant sensation. “Let us speak no more of this fellow. Some of our men will put a butte! in him one night and that will be all. Come, Monsieur Martel, tell me of France, of what goes on a.t Versailles, of La Pompadour and His Majesty— Jean Pierre talked about France, about life at the Court of Versailles. Strangely enough, it was an imper­ sonal account. Of the loves, the the intrigues, the duets and wild es­ capades that had made the name of Jean Pierre Martel one of the best known in France, he said not a word. His thoughts were far away, apparently and when he related an interminable and pointless stoiry about the Bishop of Cartres and a mule, Bigot yawned use rang for a lackey, bidding him brrng some wine and little cakes. Obviously, the in­ terview was over. Both Bigot and Jean Pierre were glad. It is hard for a brilliant man to act the bore and equally hard for a clever one to suffer boredom. Jean Pierre pleasantly .took his leave of Maitre Francois and rode about Quebec, where by law it was forbidden to gallop a horse in the streets. A habitant, in his suit of gray frieze, came along with a cart laden with wood, drawn by two weary looking dogs. Him. Jean Pierre accosted and demanded of him where lived the family named Caron He rode by the house, but saw nothing. There was a high-walled garden. He wondered if she walked there, and he fought the temptation to drive close and peer over. She would not talk to him, ne felt sure. There was no assistance he could offer and his sympathy could be of no possible use to her. Sadly he rode back to the little gray stone house at Sillery, following the road known as le -chemin Ges roulons, be­ cause in this district were flax-mills and les foulons, the workers who made thread and linen goods and etoffe du pays, homespun frieze, dwelt hereabouts. It was a green and lovely pas­ sage through which Jean Pierre rode, but he saw neither tree or fence-post not whitewalled home­ stead; the mellow music of the an- gelus, pealing out from the bells of Quebec, was to him just a sound; though, at any other time, he had surely reined in his horse and stop­ ped, enraptured, to listen. Only at the. spot, beneath a huge chestnut tree, where, last night, he had en­ countered the masque rider, did he come back to the world of facts, and then only for a moment before plunging again into the realms of fancy with Yvonne Caron and with Captain Midnight. He recalled the strange, almost fearful look that come upon the Intendant’s face when he spoke of Captain Midnight, of what lay behind the sombre masque. Queer, that—if the Intendant knew the man’s idenity. Jean Pierre had as yet no servants but an old woman from a farm a mile away was there to give him his evening meal, after which ceremony she betook herself home, fat and Dr. Wood's Norway Pine Syrup “Gladly, said Captain Midnight, “A glass of wine." He drank the ruby-colored liquor and set his goblet and the floor. His cloak was gathered about him. He did not speak, his fingers clutched the arms of the chair. “On what mission do you ride this night, monsieur?” asked Jean Pierre perching himself on tne table edge idly swinging his leg. “Of mercy or revenge?” “Of death, said Captain Midnight softly, yet in his voice was the jar­ ring, macabre undertone that before had sent prickles of norror down Jean Pierre’s spine and now did the same. “Of death, say you!” Jean Pierre’s voice was an awed whisper. His own nerves were of steel, his courage less than no man’s, but there was some­ thing about his strange visitor that overwhelmed him, unnerved him completely. Try as he would to fight off the terrible obsession that here was something more than a man something demoniac yet not evil, he could not rid himself of the thought Uneasily he stared at the masque, at the immobile lips and chin below it. “Aye, said Captain Midnight. It seemed an effort for him to speak. “You will know presently—-many things. First of all, there is a ter­ rible injustice to be righted. Know you, mon ami, this g5i)l, Yvonne Caron, reputed the loveliest in Que­ bec.” • Jean Pierre started uneasily. “I have met her,” he said. “I know something, I think, of what you would tell me. She is being coerced into giving herself to—” “The dove and the cobra,” rhut- tered Captain Midnight. “See here!” From beneath his cloak he produced a folded document. “This, he said, “is the last will and testament of Michael ‘Caron, Sieur de Lancetot No living eye but Simon Girard’s be­ fore mine, has seen n and Caron’s estate has been administered accord­ ing to an earlier win that should have been destroyed. I found this document in Simon Girard’s house a week ago. He missed it; he is afraid. He is forcing this girl to marry him because, according to the will, if she is not wed before her twenty-first birthday .practically all of the vast holdings, of the Carons here and in France, are given to the King. Her fathe did not want her to be a nun, but feared she had that in mind since Simon Girard wants her fortune for himself; the boy, Paul, is fairly provided for. But this girl does not know that, in giv­ ing herself to that canaille, she is making a terrible mistake.” “He can disgrace her brother— th boy has stolen money from the Royal Treasury—” “Girard can do nothing. He has kept this will hidden for years and in it are bequests to the State, which but for him, would have been made. Think you Bigot will condone that— never! Now she is on her way to Simon Girard’s house at Charles- bourg, but one can get there before midnight.” “And you will save her?” demand­ ed Jean Pierre. Catpain Midnight laughed. “If it were my last act on earth,” he said. “I would do it; but first I have a rendezvous with Death.” Stiffly he rose from his chair and stood gazing intently at Jean Pierre Martel with thqse verrioie slits of eyes. “A rendezvous with death,” he re­ peated. “Hark to me, who- call your­ self Jean Pierre Martel—Hark to Captain Midnight—” CHAPTER II At Charlesbourg Royal, Simon Gi­ rard owned and occupied a rambling old stone house, built during the wise regime of Intendant Jean Tal­ on, by a gentleman named Fernand de Guerin., And if, as ’twas whis­ pered among the credulous habit­ ants, good Ferand’s ghost stll haunt­ ed his domain, it never surely saw stranger secene than this that was enacted in the little chapel in the vaulted basement of the manor, There before the tiny altar Yvon­ ne Caron, her face waxen in the dim light of the tapers. Sne wore a dark riding-habit and looked little like a bride as she felt. Beside' her, poorly hiding his dellgut at the suc­ cess of his scheming, knelt (Simon Girard, There, too, were Paul Car­ waddling like an ancient duck. Jean Pierre christened her, forthwith canard and indeed by that nickname the habitants already knew her. With her departure there was no life about him save the summer in­ sects that buzzed and droned sleep­ ily in the twilight air of the garden. The west was a huge splotch of crimson and orange, like something a mad artist had hurled upon his canvas; the hills were lined sharp­ ly, blue-black against it. Jean Pierre smoked his pipe, making wry faces over the tobac canadien, a new and unpleasant experience. One seeing him there strolling in his garden, a tall, wide-shouldered young man, brown-faced and hand­ some, his straight nose, carven lips and firm chin giving him a look of sternness beyond his years—one would have said he was very happy there and at peace. But Jean Pier­ re had not been at peace when he came to Quebec and now the mem­ ory of the girl he had met in the Governor’s Garden, of her unhappy plight, agitated him still more; and his own impotence, his utter inabil­ ity to do anything, drove him to in­ ward frenzy. H'e even thought of going to Quebec, provoking Simon Girard and engaging him in a duel; but reason dismissed the project as being insane. Bigot would not per­ mit it, probably the lawyer would not draw sword; there were other things— The night came, trailing, blue­ black, star-jewelled wings over hill and field, over rock-city and river, touching all with its sombre wings and darkening all. Still, Jean Pier­ re walked restlessly in his garden and not till the grass was wet and shining under the moon and the deep nocturnal hush -had muted every sound did he go into the house, light the candles in his sitting-room and kindle the bone-dry birchwood in the great stone fireplace. Legs astride, han as clasped be­ hind him, he stood looking down at the flames—the flames that settled that seethed and licket? and sizzled and went bellowing up the wide chimney. But in the fire he saw no visions; no fair dreams there he read—he saw only flames and he thought grimly that passions are! flames—greed, lust, envy, hatred— aye, even love—and as flames they consume. Presently he drew his chair to the fire and sat there and ^cursed him­ self for his old-womanish helpless­ ness. At times he got up and strode restlessly about the room, only to fling himself wearily into his chair again. The logs were all consumed and were only glowing shadows, skeletons of the wood lying in their bed of white ash, the candles had guttered, and untended, flickered and made grotesque and monstrous shadows on the walls. In the room was no sound, only a stillness, deep, palpable, into which, inchroate, al­ most as if fancied, crept the thud­ ding, irregular beat of a horse’s hoofs—thud-thud, thud-thud—out of the starry darkness. Nearer and nearer. Jean Pierre dashed to the door, swung it wide, as out of the tree­ shadows that lined the road to his house loomed the white bulk of a great charger on which sat a figure only distinguished because it was darker than the darkness—Captain Midnight. Faintly, he answered Jean Pierre’3 hail. He dismounted and followed Jean Pierre into the house, into the sickly radiance of the dying fire and the guttering candles and he sank into a chair as if spent, remov­ ing neither tri-cornered hat nor black masque, no cloas nor leather gauntlet. “You are welcome/’ said Jean Pierro “A glass of wine?” Dry, Hacking Cough Nearly Choked Her Mrs. 0. Scheie, Duhamel, Alta., writes:—-“I had a terrible dry, hacking cough which would nearly choke me. I tried all kinds of medicine to get rid of it, but they never helped me and my cough still hung on. I then got a bottle Of Dr. Wood’s Norway Pine Syrup and m a few days my cdugh was all gone, thanks to this valuable medicine. Now I always keep a bottle of ‘Dr. Wood’s' on hand.” Price, 35c a bottle; large family size, 65c, at all drug and general stores; put up only by The T, Mil­ bum Co., Limited, Toronto, Ont. on, an abashed and sullen look on his weakly handsome face, and Maryse, who was Yvonne’s maid, A brown-cassocked monk stood before the altar, his missal open at the marriage ceremony. A strange wed­ ding, indeed, but stranger still were contracted those days when marriage was a worthwhile stepping stone to fortune for many men and the fact that woman had a mind of her own, if known at all, was generally dis­ regarded. Yvonne’s temperament was a mix­ ture of emotion—the emotion of her sex—and logic—the maternal, inex­ orable logic that was part of her for so many years had been sister and mother, both, to this boy who now, to save his own face, sat cal­ lously by while she gave nerself in marriage — in bondage, bitter and hideous bondage. She had neither respect nor liking for Simon Girard, “Simon Girard or someone else,” Paul had said with an indifferent shrug when Yvonne taxed him with the theft he had commtted. “It is time you were wed—” “I do not love this man—” “What matter? You are too proud, Yvonne. There are many wo­ men in Quebec who would be hon­ ored by his choice. It is simply that he has known you longer and that you are lovblier than the others. You will be happy with him. You would not have me branded a thief ? f “It is an ugly name, Paul—to, fit one’s brother. But have you no shame, no remorse? can you not realize what this means to me? Why the very touch of his hand makes me shudder and draw away from him and his eyes seem to look at me as if—” “Nonsense,” said Paul. His own craven fear of disgrace would per­ mit no sympathy for her to enter his .heart. Simon Girard was a power in New France, a man whose patronage would be as valuable as his enmity would be fatal. “I think it is best for both of us that you be­ come his wife.” Yvonne looked at him in scorn, in wonderment, and felt that strange baffled sensation that conies to all who at some time must blind them­ selves to the faulty of those they love. Why did she do it? Why not let him be disgraced? Why give her­ self to a man who went to such un­ derhand extremes to get her? 'She could find no answer for those questions. She knew that, while, by an sacrifice, it was in her power to safeguard Paul, she would place her own interests second to his. He was a coward; she knew it. Only that morning she had found him in his room, a pistol in his hand and terror in his eyes. She had taken the weapon away from him while knowing in her heart full well that he had not the courage to do what he threatened. What did it matter, anyway, what become of her? Life had not been very bright for her? There had been a moment—that mo­ ment in the Governor’s Garden when face-to-face, with Jean Pierre Martel, she had caught a glimpse, wondrous sweet, of the rapture tnat life could hold for a girl, could bring to her on the wings of love. And a shut­ ter had closed down on that mo­ mentary burst of light and blotted it out and she thought bitterly that even that momentary ecstasy was a lie. , (.Continued next week) ZURICH Mr. and Mrs. Vincent Jeffery, of Detroit, spent the week-end with their parents at St. Joseph. Misses Nelda and Violet Schwalm, of Stratford, spent Sunday at the home of their parents Mr. and Mrs. Peter Schwalm. Miss Jane Lamont has returned home from Victoria Hospital, Lon­ don, where she recently underwent an operation. Mr. Louis Brisson, of Windsor, was a week-end visitor with rela­ tives. Messrs. F. Yungblut and son have moved their butcher business from the Deitz block to their own new quarters on the opposite side of the street. Mrs. Jacob Gingerich, who was taken to St. Joseph’s Hospital in Lon­ don for treatments, has returned home and is improving nicely. Miss Bertine Mero has gone to Windsor, her brother Jerry accom-’ panying her as far as London. Miss Gladys Harvey, of Windsor, is visiting with her mother Mi’S. Harvey at the home of Mr. J. Deck­ er. Mr. Cyrus Schlock attended the wedding of his daughter in Kitchen­ er, last week. Mr. Schlock intends moving from Kitchener to Zurich soon. WORK IS EASIER NOW FAT HAS GONE “I was so stout about eleven months ago,” a woman writes, “that I became a burden to myself. Then muscular rheumatism set into my joints, and I had to go on sticks for some time. Then I started to take Kruschen ;Salts,* and I am overjoyed with .the results I have derived from them. Honestly, I had no idea one could feel so different in such a short time. Since taking Kruschen. I have lost nearly 28 lbs. of super­ fluous fat. I can now run about as well as when I was 20, cook, work, and attend to seven growing chil­ dren.”— (Mrs.) G. H. Unlike certain drastic drugs, Kruschen does not aim to reduce by rushing food through the body; its action is not confined to a single part of the system. It has a tonic influ­ ence upon every organ of elimination every gland, every nerve, every vein. Gently,'but surely, it rids the system of all fat-forming refuse, of all poi­ sons and harmful acids which - give rise to rheumatism, digestive disor­ ders, and many -others ills. THE LATE MRS. YOST Death removed an aged and high­ ly respected old lady on Monday, November 27, at the home of her daughter, Mrs. Joseph Foster, of the Baibylon Line, in the person of Rose Yost, aged 78 years, 4 months and 11 days. Deceased, who was ill only a very short time, had been a resi- ■dent of this commuity for about six years, and had many close friends. She spent the greater part of her life in the State of Michigan,..where her husband predeceased her. Two daughters survive, Mrs. Joseph Fos­ ter, of the Babylon Line and Mrs. Lang Foster, of Blake. The funeral was held to the St. Boniface R. C. Church with Rev. Fr. L. Power of­ ficiating . “THE PARENTS’ PERSONAL SERVICE” A Unique Service Rendered by the Hospital for Sick Children, Toronto Three years ago, the Hospital for Sick Children. Toronto—the pioneer hospital in Canada for chUdren only —tentatively started a .service to be known as “The Parents’ Personal Service." This means that the Hospital set aside a graduate nurse, with her stenographer, for the exclusive use of the parents, in order that they might have a direct and intimate source of information re their chil­ dren, not only as to the ailment for which they were admitted, but the little Individual conditions. It is comforting to talk with, or write t<\ someone who has time to see and chat with their little one. and who can tell them how he looks, and answer such questions as: Is he able to be up, or sit up in bed? Does he miss us and fret? Does he play with the other children? and so on, dozens of anxious inquiries, , and meaning much to the home folk. If they live In the-City they may see and talk to her any horn'. To-day, the Hospital’s officials re­ gard .this Service with pride, as it reveals the spirit of the Institution, supplying, as it does, the human touch that sets it apart from a mere repair factory and shows it as a house, not only of healing, but of sympathy and understanding towards the parents. As the Hospital takes In children from every corner of Ontario, not­ withstanding that some of the larger cities now have a hospital of theli own, this has Increased the Hospital's correspondence Immensely. A look at the file for this Service, however, shows how worth-while the experiment has proved. There are thousands of letters, Intensely human documents, from parents. A play­ wright would consider It a rich field. It contains ready-made blocks of assorted emotions for the making oi dramas—love, pity, longing, anxiety, fear, faith, hope, exaltation and grati­ tude—all crammed q between itr covers. The nurse In charge of this Service Is naturally Immensely popular with the children. They look to her for news from home. To the parents, also, she is a very real person, though they may. never have seen her, and some write to her after their children are home. Neither do the children forget her, as the concluding sentence, in a letter from a child, home many months, shows: "I have just finish­ ed my homework, and I am very tired and 1 just wrote this letter tc see what you are doing. Goodnight and God bless you." This last, no doubt, was prompted by a grateful mother. Then there Is the letter of the little boy, successfully treated for Infantile Paralysis, who thought longingly of home while In the Hospital, and of his Hospital friends when discharged. "Just a line to let you know how I am. My leg is all better now I can walk quite well now. I am glad tc be home, but 1 am still lonesome for the Hospital. I will soon be able to walk good. How is Herby now? Is he gone to Thistletown yet? This is the first time I have written a letter with a pen and ink. .$Weil, 1 guess I’ll close now." An institution that is not content to heal only, but feels for the dis­ tressed parents to the extent of set­ ting aside a graduate nurse and her stenographer solely for the purpose of lightening their anxiety, must awaken tn the hearts of all a desire to help support that Institution. Last year showed a great increase In the number of patients treated. The revenues fell far short of the actual cost. Public benevolence must make up the difference. Contribu­ tions of any amount are received with gratitude, and every donation is acknowledged by mail and pub­lished 'in The Evening Telegram Send Care of the Secretary Treasurer. Hospital for sick children^ 67 col- ego street, Toronto 2. Qtye Exeter ©nnefl-A&nnratr Established 187.3 and 1887 Published every Thursday morning at Exeter* Ontario SUBSCRIPTION—?2.00 per year In advance. RATES—Farm or Real Estate to> sale 50c. each insertion for first four insertions. 25c. each subse­ quent insertion. Miscellaneous ar­ ticles, To Rent, Wanted, Lost, or Found 10c. per line of six worda. Reading notices 10c. per line. Card of Thanks 50c. Legal ad­ vertising 12 and 8c. per line. In Memoriam, with one verse 50c. extra verses 25c. each. Member of The Canadian Weekly Newspaper Association Professional Cards GLADMAN & STANBURY BARRISTERS, SOLICITORS, Ac. Money to Loan, Investments Made Insurance Safe-deposit Vault for use of our Clients without charge EXETER and HEN SALL CARLING & MORLEY BARRISTERS, SOLICITORS, &c . LOANS, INVESTMENTS INSURANCE Office: Carling Block, Main Street, EXETER, ONT. At Lucan Monday and Thursday Dr. G. S. Atkinson, L.D.S.,D.D.S. DENTAL SURGEON Office opposite the New Post Office Main St., Exeter Telephones ‘ Office 34w House *4j Closed Wednesday Afternoons Dr. G. F. Roulston, L.D.S..D.D.S. DENTIST Office: Carling Block EXETER, ONT. Closed Wednesday Afternoon JOHN WARD CHIROPRACTIC, OSTEOPATHY, ELECTRO-THERAPY & ULTRA­ VIOLET TREATMENTS PHONE 70 MAIN ST., EXETEB ARTHUR WEBER LICENSED AUCTIONEER For Huron and Middlesex FARM SALES A SPECIALTY PRICES REASONABLE SATISFACTION GUARANTEED Phone 57-13 Dashwood R. R. NO. 1, DASHWOOD FRANK TAYLOR LICENSED AUCTIONEER For Huron and Middlesex FARM SALES A SPECIALTY Prices Reasonable and Satisfaction Guaranteed EXETER P. O. or RING 188 OSCAR KLOPP LICENSED AUCTIONEER Honor Graduate Carey Jones’ Auc­ tion School. Special Course taken in Registered Live Stock (all breed*) Merchandise, Real Estate, Farm Sales, Etc. Rates in keeping with prevailing prices. Satisfaction as­ sured, write Oscar Klopp, Zurich, or phone 18-93, Zurich, Ont. USBORNE & HIBBERT MUTUAL FIRE INSURANCE COMPANY Head Office, Farquhar, Ont. President ANGUS SINCLAIR Vice-Pres. J. t. ALLISON DIRECTORS SAH’L NORRIS', SIMON DOW • WM. H. COATES, FRANK McConnell AGENTS JOHN ESSERY, Centralia, Agent for Usborne and Blddulph ALVIN L. HARRIS, Munro, Agent for Fullarton and Logan THOMAS SCOTT, Cromarty, Agent for Hibbert W. A. TURNBULL Secretary-Treasurer Box 295, Exeter, Ontario GLADMAN & STANBURY Solicitors, "Exeter No Thumbs Dmvn “Bothered much by hitch hikers when you’re out riding?” “Not now. Tried a, new plan. As soon as I get out of town I show I the sign ‘Taxi’ on imy car.” r