HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Times-Advocate, 1934-02-15, Page 6THURSDAY, FJ3IJBUARY 15, 1931 THE EXETER TIMES-ADVOCATE
Captain Midnight
by L. Arthur Cunningham
SYNOPSIS
Yvonne Caron, one of the most
beautiful ladies of early French
Quebec is being forced into mar
riage with and by Simon Girard,
an unscrupulous lawyer. Her;
brother Paul is deep in debt tliro’
gambling with Girard. The cere
mony, however, is interrupted by
the notorious Catain Midnight,
Robin Hood of the French colony,
who marries Yvonne in order to
save the girl’s vast estates.
i
I i
i
Yvonne fled from that unhallow- (
ed place, not daring to glance;
back. The windmill with its dirt-!
grimed windows
an old, old man
watery eyes. She
once she had set
road. Another horse, a large chest
colored brute that she knew at once
stood near her own mount and on
a gray boulder by the roadside sat
its owner, Jeane Pierre Martel.
Her -cheeks burned as, seeing him
she thought of the letter she had
received from Leonie d’Armour. She
had brought it with her. She would
not speak of it, she decided. It
would not make any difference in
her relations with him anyway. She
had from the first tried hard to
treat him with coldness; to keep
him at hie distance. And he had
seemed not to mind or if he did
mind, he certainly did not show it.
Seeing her, he sprang to his feet
with an easy agility and bowed low
His face was very grave to-day ano
the malicious taunting smile that so
often twisted his mouth, was absent
His lips were a thin line end, foi-
the first time in her acquaintance
with him, she experienced an emo
tion towards him that did not make
her love him less—its name was fear
“I am again fortunate,” he said
“I did not look to see you here to
day. I had heard, in my
the trouble your brother
course, he is not guilty;
have
prit?
your
ardly
tain Midnight.”
“But is it nonsense ?”
Yvonne. “I—I talked with
morning. He told me he
tain Midnight. He could
been mistaken. I know he was- not
lying to me.”
“Bien! That may be. But of whai
value is it? He has, I understand,
no way of proving that it was Cap
tain
have
man
seem
old women. I would that I were en
trusted with the fellow’s capture,
I promise you, I’d have him in no
time—o—he plucked a daisy from
the ground—“just as easily as one
plucks a flower.”
Yvonne started. Why had he said
that? She glanced at him, but his
stern countenance was not easy to
read and he stared down at the lit
tle flower he had pulled.
“Do you think flowers have a
language, truly?” he asked, giving
her a momentary smile. “Oh, I sup
pose I am a fool to talk about flow
ers when I know you are so con
cerned about Paul.”
“Yes, I am conceerned about him
m’s-ieur. But there is nothing more
that I or anyone else can do for him
All that there was to be done, has
been done. Yes, I do think that,
flowers have a language and, as-
with all languages, there are lies to
be told by the
“Yes?” said
ly.
“Yes. Life
reminded her of
with bleared and
sighed with relief
foot on the high-
retreat of
is in. Of
but they
real cul-
no-nsense,
this cow-
no suspicion of the
They dismiss, as
brother’s claim, that
murder was the work of Cap-
retorted.
Paul this
saw Cap-
not have
Midnight. And what chance
they of bringing the highway-
to trial? None. They can not
to catch him. Pouf! They are
flowers.”
Jean Pierre curious-
seems full of lies.
Your own life, Monsieur Martel,
since you came to Quebec, has been
a lie. I learned that today.”
“Eh!” Jean Pierre -cocked his
head at her. “What is this you tell
me? I am found out to- be not what (
| Under the unwavering stare of
, Captain Midnight’s eyes, under the .
> menacing muzzle of his- pistol, Si-
1 mon Girard did as he was told.
1 From under the tile he ‘produced
’ the trappings of death and the ring
■ he had coveted. He moved like an
! automaton! driven by a will that
i burned into his own weak resist-
i ance, out right through it, more
by the power of that awful eyes,
! the face, even that masque could not
' hide from Girard’s frightened fancy.
Now like twin spectres of the
night they stood arrayed..
“You might be Capain Midnight
himself,” taunted the highwayman
with a weird laugh. “But for your
face and for your heart, monsieur.
1 However, you will serve. Come, we
ride with death tonight, you and I.
, And the ring is- tight upon your
finger and the thongs will be tight
upon your wrist and, beneath white
Barca’s belly, your ankles will be
Simon, recalling the appari- tied. Is is not a cunning scheme;
even that master-minded Bigot
could think up nothing better."
“Where—where are you
me? Name of God, monsieur,
would you do with me?”
“You have a
death, Girard—it is, alas,
the fate of those who wear
que. Haste, we lose time,
of the way I will conduct
Barca know the road—the road to
the windmill at Sillery—there is
your rendezvous, my friend.”
Into the darkness they went. Cap
tain Midnight’s pistol touching his
companion’s ribs as they walked to
J a white
shadow,
deftness,
Girard’s
gether, his ankles joined by a cord
beneath the horse’s belly, his hand
kerchief made a gag for his mouth.
Captain Midnjight mounted behind
him and they rode to -Sillery, to
where the old windmill towered
lofty against the sky, with death be
hind its windows.
Captain Girard, I heard that Bi
got commanded every man to shoot
straight.] Adieu, Barca—adieu. It
was his wish—and yo-urs-—au mou
lin!”
The great horse galloped free and
fast, seeming to ha-te its burden.
Captain Midnight watched and
waited, listening to his hoof beats
that made a grim tattoo of deatn
upon the road. Captain Midnight
waited— until the grim windows of
the mil vomited streaks1 of fire-.
“It is done, Laurent,” he said
gently, sobbingly. “It is
has fallen into a pit of
making. We
fiend, to God,
severely than
Paul Caron ..
earth or in heaven could explain
away the ring fitted so tightly on
Simon Girard’s1 finger. Bigot, fright
ened, swore that it was only a trick
of Captain Midnight’s to put the
guilt upon Simon Girard and .save
the brother of her he loved. But no
one believed him. Indeed, Jean
Pierre Martel came forward to say
that he had been riding home late
that night, had seen the ma-squed
man upon the road and had followed
him—to Simon Girard’s h-o-use.
Clever minds saw the Intendant’s
crafty hand in the sordid business
and Bigot, to save his own face, at
length consented to -believe that
Girard had been the guilty man and
had
tain
and
had
&
I am reputed to be. I have been go-; lows, he had felt at times an awful
ing under false pretences?” !
“Yes. Armand de Guast knew
you in France. It was through him [
I learned about you.”
“You found I was a sheep
Pierre. “And I suppose you
disappointed in me?”
“No; but in myself that I did
I
not
am
“But
Are Yow
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then,
took
invi-suggestion of eyes staring at "him,
watching him as a man marked with
death.
All
night,
in his
of the morrow, of the trap set for
Captain Midnight, of the way they
had brought about his ruin)—-thr-o’
the girl he loved. Loved!—It was
folly for him to love who dared not
show his visage to the eyes of the
world.
tion of the highwayman at Beauman-
oir, shuddered, and got up from his
chair, to go close the doors that
opened out upon the garden. It was
late, but he would not sleep until
he learned that Bigot who had
promised to advise him, that the
sword no longer hung by a thread
above liis neck.
Simon Girard never closed the
doors. As if he had taken shape
there against the blue-black oblong
of night framed by the
still and
pistol in
Midnight,
thin hard
“Bon soir,
night softly,
this night, a visitor?”
Girard half lifted his arms, drop
ped them weakly by his- sides-. His
mouth, his lips were dry. There was
a salty bitterness in his mouth
which his tongue stuck. And
his body a craven contraction
fear.
“What-
me, monsieur?" he
his mind was a daze,
panic.
“I would have you
you murdered iM-oise
you would let an innocent youth
bear the blame, why force that
youth’s sister to purchase her
brother’s life at the price set by
Judas
cannot
things I
Girard,
hideous
j You know the masque is just—just
i the lid of hell and to lift it, to see
| what is beneath it—I see the
make your
fear even greater. Yo-u did it, Gir
ard—you—”
The highwayman’s- voice was- a low
steady staccato, each word was a
stab into Girard’s shrinking heart.
“For a woman you sent a man to
his death and he found something
worse than death. The brand they
put upon him shut him off from
life, from love, from the smile in
a woman’s eyes-, from the gentle
slasp of a little child’s- hands-
doomed him to a darkness
than that of the pit.
Girard—
Captain Midnight
the masque. Girard,
vulsed, looked upon
face, the eyes that s-t-ared fixedly,
that seemed to grin when the mouth
did not smile.’ He could not look
at that face. He slumped down in
a chair, in his- own eyes the look of
a cornered rat. The masque cover
ed the gargoyle visage.
IM-idnight laughed.
“A pretty picture, eh,
with you.”
"To—take with me.”
"But yes—to take with
hell. Come. It is time
your journey, monsieur. Your cloak
and hat—get them—and your
que—”
Girard’s lips drew back in a
like a beast’s.
"What do you -say! You are
You had better go- from here-
"Come!" said Captain Midnight
gently. “There beneath the hearth
stone in the corner—your black
cloak and tri-cornered hat, your
masque—”
“You devil!” How, in the name of
“I was with you, Girard, with yon
when you rode from Moise Cordet’s
house, beside you when you camo
here, at your window I saw you puv
them there. Go—get them now-—
- and get the great emerald—that
you took from the dead man’s fin
ger after Paul Caron had fled. Youi
greed,. Girard—your accursed greed
—you see. And when they find tlib
moneylender’s jewel upon your
finger —ah, then they will know.
Make haste; my finger moves upon
this trigger—”
that would end now—this
Girard sat by the -warm fire
study, and thought pleasantly
' trust my own estimate of you.
! sorry, xn’sieur."
“Then do not be. I have
very happy to know you. You
ever, are not happy,
something—tell me! It may be that
I can help you.”
“You will hate me.”
Jean Pierre came to her and took
her hands in his.
“Not if you condemned me
death, Yvonne.”
“Please! And why did you
that! I am condemning him
death, you see. That was why I
came here. I put a red rose in the
hollow of the oak tree over there by
the mill,
it; he
down,
it was
do it.
oh, I do not hate Captain Midnight.
I would give my own life—’’
“That was the price they made you
pay,” said Jean Pierre. His face was
grim, his body tensed as if it were a
steel blade bent back. “Cunnng,” he
said to himself. “Devilishly -cun
ning,” If you give them your hus
band you save your brother. Can
you be sure that Captain Midnight
is guilty?”
“I cannot; but I
Paul is innocent,
am faced with. It
it will give me no
“There will be peace,” said Jean
Pierre. "Do not be afraid, Yvonne.
Even though it may seem to you that
you have betrayed Captain Midnight
I think you will find him still your
strongest protector. I did bid you
before to trust in him."
“You speak always in his favor—
always—”
“Because I knew him—and lovea
him.”
“And yet you do not despise me
for what I have done?"
You have done the only thing th.0Uglit of that does
you could do. Even he would ab
solve you more readily than I.”
Together they rode back to
city. It was sunset.
Simon Girard, for all that he
shot down a defenseless man
shouldered the blame off on another
still found a considerable enjoyment,
in life. He did not leave <
burg to go to the city the <
lowing his cowardly crime,
apprised him by messenger
success of their scheming; “After to
morrow,” wrote the Intendant “the
black shadow will fall no more
across, our path.”
Release—dt meant release fior Gir
ard from that human spectre that
had haunted him, that could, if it
were permitted longer to walk the
earth exact from him a. penalty al
most as terrible as the thing he had
done to
Hilaire,
for that; his only regret was that St.
Hilaire has escaped the hands of the
savages or had been permitted long
er to live when death had been a
mercy for him. As long as Laurent
de St. Hilaire rode beneath the cloak
of Captain Midnight, Simon Girard
knew that his own life was wortn
very little indeed. Easily, Captain
Midnight might have destroyed him
long before this, still in Girard’s
ears sounded the strange man’s
warning of a' death more terrible
than death—one to match in its
agony the fate of St. Hilaire him
self. Girard had thought ceaseless
ly of that; he had walked fearfully/
trembling through life, shunning
I the darkness, seeking companionship
always and yet, even among his fel-
am
see—”
Yvonne
dismay.
been
lioiv-
There is
1
i
to
say
to
Tonight he will come for
will be taken—perhaps shot
I—-I feel like a traitor. But
that or Paul’s death. I had to
I bargained will them—but
doorway,
straight and steady the
his hand, stood Captain
And his mouth was a
line that smiled.
” said Captain, Mid-
“You did not expect,
to
in
of
taking
what
with.
often
rendezvous
to
the mas-
A pari
you and
shape motionless in the
Captain Midnight had the
the speed of a conjurer,
wrists were lashed to-
can be sure that
You see what I
has tortured me,
peace ever.’’
the
had
and
Charles-
day fol-
Bigot
- of the
Laurent Lemoine de St.
He felt no compunction
Troubled With Her Liver
Coated Tongue Every Morning
Mrs. A. J. Lansky, Alberton, Sask.,
writes:—"I had trouble with my liver,
and every morning I would wake up
with a thickly coated tongue, and
would feel so tired I found it hard to
do my housework.
One day I read about Milbum’s
Laxa-Liver Pills. I got two vials and
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able to attend to my household duties
without any trouble.” "*
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of-what you would have
said huskily;
a choas of
tell me why
Cordet, why
Iscariot—blood. Ah! You
tell me. There are so many
If .■would have of you, Simon
You know the story, the
story behind this masque.
■it
worse
You did; that,
jerked away
his face con-
the hideous
I
-Ca-ptain
to take
you to
to start
mas-
snarl
done. He
hisi own
the othershall leave
who can punish more
man.”
was free; nothing on
met the fate he deserved. Cap-
Midnight’s justice was swift
deadly; no man doubted that it
miscarried in this case.
Jean Pierre had come home with
Paul on his release. Jean Pierre was
very quiet, and pale and his eyes
were serious until he could’ look at
her when a dancing, impish light of
.mischief would come into their
grey depths. And once whey they
were alone for a moment he said
ot her—
“Was I not right, milady—about
Captain (Midnight? I knew he would
not fail you. More than ever now, I
suppose, your allegiance is given to
him, your husbandi—”
He saw her mouth tremble and
her eyes b'link swiftly. He came
close to her side and laid his1 hand
on her arm.
“Do not fear,” he said. "Do not
such as you, Yvonne,
only happiness,
dear—be true to-
not regret—”
“Thank you, monsieur,” she
dabbing at her eyes with her
chief. “I—4 shall follow your ad
vice.”
“Nd! No! Follow the advice of
your heart.”
“But I married him . I am doub
ly in his debt. How can I be guid
ed by my lieart?
And I know that he is deserving
of you.”
“Faith! He Has a mighty cham
pion in you/’ said Yvonne coldly,
despair. For
there can be
lieve me, my
and: you will
Be-
him
said
ker-
luck! said Paul. “She
a happy woman, Jean
Pierre avoided Yvonne’s
could not stand, even
he answer-
Au revoir,
Midnight’s”
was going
She would
The pros-
gentle ser-
the
The
river
way.
what he
mark his
presence
in
not
his
her in the
saw hlsi teeth
did ex-
all her
weak-
.She did< not touch it. An
incontrollable, that had
her before, seized her now,
motion swift as light she
up and snatched the mas-
on his
would
punish-
and ’turned her shoulder to him.
Once—once you yourself did forget
youi' loyalty to him and—and toox
what was his alone."
“Loyalty,” said Jean Pierre
“does not extend that far.”
And, quite to her surprise, he
caught her to him and kissed her
lips.
“I envy him so!" he said
I do think you love him."
Paul came into the room
and shortly after Jean Pierre
leave of them, declining their
tation to stay.
“I should like to," he said re
gretfully, “But I must go home, to
my lonely dwelling. Shortly I
going back to France, you
“To France!” It was
who echoed1 his words in
“You are going back.”
“Yes," he said gravely. “|My
work here is done. I—well you
see, I am going to take a wife.”
“Good
will be
Pierre."
Jean
eyes; he
for a little while, what he saw there
—pride that fought with sorrow
and lost.
“I, too, Monsieur Mortel,” she
said dully, “wish you great happi
ness."
“It will be as great,"
"as Captain Midnight’s
mes amis.”
“As great as Captain
-—Yvonne, walking that night in her
garden still heard those words. They
were only a mockery. He was cruel
to her. And now he
away—back to France,
not see him any more,
pect of losing him—the
lousiness of his face, his whimsical
smile and lightly teasing ways—she
could not bear to think of life with
out him. And she chided herself
for thinking so of a man who was
going to wed another. After all,
those kisses that he had taken so
lightly meant nothing to him. No
doubt he thought they counted
for nothing with her; while, in
very truth, they were all—all—she
loved' them, she would always re
member them.
Impatiently she waited for
coming of Captain Midnight,
garden wall was close to the
shore. He would come that
She steeled herself for this1 meeting
Let him accuse her of having be
trayed him, of having made sport
of the pretty try,sting with a rose, of
having used it treacherously against
him. Let him do or say
would she did not care.
This time she did
coming nor suspect
until he stood beside
starlit gloom and she
flash w-hitely.
“Bonsoir,” he said.
pect me tonight."
“I did, she answered, and
strength seemed to become
ness before the quiet assurance of
him. Yet almost angrily, she stared
up at him, striving to read some
thing—'something she could not
name in those eyes behind the black
domino.
“You sent me this.”
(He held out to her a rose—the
rose that would have led him to
death,
inpulse,
come to
With a
reached
que from his face. She must see-
see for herself if what they said was
true. The starlight shone
face—enough—
"Jean Pierre!”
"You little fiend. You
spoil my fun. You shall be
ed.”
But the punishment was- siweet.
"Jean Pierre,” she said -breath
lessly. “You—you wear my |ring.
You—it was—it was1 always you."
"Always it was I,” he said smil
ingly. "I whom you married—
what a gift from heaven—<1 who
came to you and kissed you and
teased .you and loved you. I dared
not let you know it was I, for at
first you despised me and no.t until
you told me of your letter did I
dare—”
"But, before you came to Que
bec, Captain Midnight was1 here-—
long before. They knew him, he
was Laurent Lemoine de .St. Hilaire.
They betrayed him to the Iroquois
and something hideous happened to
him—”
"It has been avenged. He was' my
brother.”
"Your brother. But how—?”
"My name is Marcel de (St, Hil
aire. In France they knew me only
as Jean Pierre Marel.
long an actor, in my own plays,
had some skill,
not hear of a st.
the hoards writing dramas. But.
I was for
I
My family would
Hilaire treading
I liked it. There I learned many
tricks—to throw a knife, to make
of my own face a tragic masque
with the aid of pigmentsi—-like un
to poor Laurent’s. I learned too
how to fool a maiden in the moon
light with a trick of. voice and
pseech; but until I met you I did not
learn—to love."
She could not speak, but the
touch of her fingers on his cheek
had the beaut -of a sonnet.
“And your brother, Jean Pierre,”
she said a length. “What of him?”
“On a. hillside—out there—at
Sillery, there is a little crossi—just
of wood. He asked for that—to
sleep there; he loved it. He asked
me to settle the debts he left unpaid
I -did. Shortly after I reached Que
bec he came to me, I had met him
the night before, and hew as loth,
poor fellow, to tell me who he was. I
came to New France to seek him,
for I never believed him dead bien!
He heard of your plight, and would
have served you. A party of dra
goons sighetd him on the u-oad to
Sillery and- pursued him. He came
to me then. He was hit—mortally
But before he died, I learned—
enough. And all is done- that I
came here to do—and moie; I did
not come to- find happiness, but it is
mine, Yvonne.”
‘And Captain Midnight rides no
more,” she said softly, gazing off
to the distant hills, to the Sillery
woods, where he gnarled oak stood
with the ancient windmill towering
raggedly -above it.
“Perhaps1,” said Jean Pierre, “he
rides still—irides on white Barca-
whom he loved well—across the sa
vannahs of the night.”
THE END
ZURICH MAN 70, DUES
ON RABBIT DRIVE
Frank Kochems, aged 70, of Zur
ich village, dropped dead while on
a rabbit drive. Mr. Kochems was
with a party of men- and had1 walk
ed- about '500 yards when the man
nearest to him saw him drop to> one
knee. Little attention was paid
to this, as- it was believed the aged
hunter had sighted a rabbit and was
preparing to shoot. However, when
Mr. Kochems rolled over his com
panion nan to investigate. He found
Mr. Kochems was- dead.
Dr. P. J. O’Dwyer, of Zurich was
called and the body was removed
to the home of Garnet Jacobs on the
townline of Hay Township and was
later taken to Zurich. It was found
that no shots- had been fired' by the
veteran hunter. No inquest will be
held.
Mr. Kochems wa-s at work the day
before in the Kalbfleisch mill. Sur
viving are Mrs. K-ochem and three
daughters and1 two sons.
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