HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1894-11-22, Page 3A Woman's—Crime,
BY AN ansoinenarivie,
•Publithed by eereassiou ca tee creniers °Stile
Oupyright.
• I Otderrne nem , I
"Well, I should say she was in his
way somehow, I think Ws motive is
'bad."
a "No donbt."
"Do you think Bradwardine knows of
the murder, Rob?"
"No, I think not. Why, think, man,
I didn't kuow it myself; there are so few
of the city papers coming to this out -of -
'the -way place. All their news seems to
• come from the State papen. Audi don't
think Bradwardine reads the papers
• ram* ; he is one of those confounded
bigoted Eaglishmen who think American
literature beneath them."
"Well,I hope he will continue to think
-so ti
hat s all. Then there is a chance
thet Dr. .A.ostin is none the wiser."
"Yes, a right smait chance,' I should
„aye:
-"And Jason Bradwardthe is trying to
win the confidence of the old doctor
"Yes; and no doubt he will do it if you
don't put a damper 011
(T11 put a damper on him. Come, Mx.
Census-taker.num, it's almost morning,
-and we want some sleep."
"But I say, young man, what wire do
.you intend pulling here? How will you
work against Bradwardine ?"
"Im John Jacob Austin," laughed
'Neil, turning toward the house. "Iha,ve
laid the tram already. Before the week
is out I shall be studying medicine with
Dr. Austin."
"Good! Enough said! Write me out
those addresses and slip them to me in
the morning. Pll report to you in a day
or two."
"Very good; but V70 can't send in-uch
'through the mail; comatry postoffiee cu-
Tiosity is too keen. Don't send oftener
than is positively necessary."
They re-entered the house as they had
left it, no one being the wiser because of
`their consultation save themselves.
The next morning the sociable census
"taker announced that his labors there
were done, and, having bade everybody
41. jolly good -by, he drove away in the
rumbling old. stage eoaoh en route for the
•city.
Let us follow him for a little time. It
is evening when he reaches the city, but
not too late; and, having refreshed him-
self and ehanged his costume somewhat,
he sallies forth again. First, he saunters
about in the vicinity of the house of
Clarence Arteveldt. Neil has furnished
him with POMO notes and also with the
names oi the places where hewn]. be most
likely to meet George Fordhara ; and
:Bob begins his round with the air of a
an who knows exactly what he is about.
'He surveys the two houses. Through the
basement windows of the one he knows
'to be Arteveldt's house lights can be seen
burning brightly, as if to make cheerful
as possible the inhabited portion of that
now dreary dwelling. From the win-.
dows of the other house, however, various
lights stream out.
"So ho !" mutters Rob under his
breath. "No. 49 is in operation. I won-
der if they have got their shingle out."
He approached the entrance and saw
hanging on the door a sign, the bright, i
new gilt letters, glittering n the gaslight,
"Mrs. Rogers, private boarding-house."
Thus read the gilt lettering, and without
inomoat's hesitation Detective Rbb ran
up the steps and rang the bell. He had
plenty of time to frame a speech before
'the door opened, and then he was a little
surprised to see that it was not a servant
•who stood surveying him rather critic-
.a,lly. not to say unfavorably. He looked
'like a well-to-do young man about town
•as he stood'i
hat n hand, bowing before
the woman who had opened. the door.
She was a stout, florid -faced, richly
•dressed woman of at least forty-five years,
and Rob at once jampeato the conclusion
that this was Mrs. Rogers herself.
"Good evening, madame," he said
blandly. "Am I addressing the lady of
the house, Mrs. Rogers?"
"Yes, I am Mrs. Rogers," replied the
woman, somewhat coldly.
"I see by this," motioning toward the
-door, "that have rooms for desirable
'boarders, and sol called. lam estranger
in the city and want a first-class board-
ing place in a good locality like this. Do
you think you could accommodate me?"
Mrs. Rogers had been standing with
one hand on the door as if desirous of
,elosing it and the conversation, and she
did not alter her position or her general
•aspects as she replied.:
"I don't really know, sir; some of my
'MOMS are engaged ; all of them were, but
there has been a horrible affair next, door
and it will hurt my house, I ana afraid,
some people are so superstitious. I shall
icnow by to -morrow whether I will have
any vacant rooms or not; I siippose you
can furnish good references?"
He laughed and shrugged his broad,
. shoulders.
"I don't know," he replied. "I am
'lately from the Pacific, Slope; I can refer
:you to plenty of people in California, and
I can satisfy you pecuniarily, I am gare
.of that ; as for the affairnext door, what-
-ever it may have been, it won't trouble
me "
"I am glad of that, sir.," said Mrs.
-Rogers, with more affability than she
had at first displayed. "If you can
make it convenient to call to -morrow
• afternoon I will give you an answer;
• can't show you my rooms to -night. I
• have just moved in to -day, and they are
• not ready for visitors."
"Time enough for that to -morrow,
.madame," said the gentleman from the
Pacific slope. "I will call early in the
afternoon"; and lifting his hat he turned
an.d walked leisurely away.
What his opinion concerning the house
was one could hardly guess from the
single ejaculation that fell from his lips,
.forhe only muttered;
"Humph 1 Old cat!"
He made no effort to find Vordham that
-night, but remained in the vicinity of
'Mrs. Rogers' boarding-house until long
• past midnight. Bright and early on the
• following morning be was astir, and set
"himeelf about a new piece of work; rather
an old one that seemed in no way con-
nected with Mrs. Rogers. He went about
his -workin proper person, except that,
like Neil Bathurst, he substitnted a false
mustache for the one he had saerificed,
in order to the more safely shadove Jason
Bradwardine. His business took hiin to
'several of the first jewellersestablish-
' merles, and it was the same in each; in-
variably he was received with Ontirtesy ;
. he held a private interview with the
proprietor of etieh place he visited, to
whom e exbibited ciertain documents
and papers containing what looked like
a list of some sort; this paper eaeli
jeweller took a eopy of, and then Rob
Jocelyn passed on to the next one. He
had visited six jewelers in this manner,
and now stood talking in a low tone
with the seventh, His six previous
visits had been all alike, beginning arid'
endipg the seine, This one, however,
was destined to have a different endirig.
"You see, sir," Rob said, leaning over
the jewellers' desk, "we must 1110V 0 with
extreme care in these cases; the jewels
may by this time have fallen into lance
coat hands and yet through them we
may be able to trace the guilty. As 1
said before, it is a peculiar ease, and I
have lately had strong reasons for think-
ing that the person who stole the valu-
ab'les is in this city. Here is a list of the
gems stolen, as near as we were able to
make a list. They were all, as you see,
of the rare sort, and they were all of the
finest quality,"
j
The eweller took the list and ran his
eye over it, reading it half aloud.
; diamonds --r ubies—sap-
phires—pink pearls—opals." Suddenly
he pat his head out at the side of his
desk and called :
"Smithson, bring rue the order book."
The book was brought without delay,
and then, without glancing at Rob, the
jeweller turned the leaves and ran his
eye down the pages with groat rapidity.
"Here we are," he said, suddenly.
"Opals! three large Bret -water; that's
it, sir 1 A young la' dy brought three
beat -Weil opals here more than a week
ago to be made in a set. I wondered a
little at her possession of them, but she
came with a young lady from one of our
first families, So I fancy she is all right
eaough. The order—well, now, this is
lucky—the order was to be ready for to-
day. She will call for them, I presume,
this afternoon."
"What name ?" said. Rub Jocelyn, with
a gleam of the brown eyes.
"Miss Amain, sir; Miss N. S. Annin."
"Thank you; I will happen in this
afternoon, to see Miss Annin." And
Rob left the good, jeweller wondering at
his coolness and strode away.
It was almost noon, and Rob saunter-
ed into a neighboring restanrant and
sat clown to -wait, and order such a dinner
as would please him. Ho had some time
to dispose of. The matter of the opals
required no thought, for the present, so
he drew from his pocket an envelope that
Neil Bathurst had smuggled into his pos-
session just before he departed from
Fairlie. and for a third time perused its
contents. It read as follows:
DEMI Ono MAN,^ -1 have played the woman so
much I'm afraid I am getting to he like the rest.
I talk a great deal and never get it all said I
a ant to add a postscript to on. confab of last
night. Intim first place, enclosed find the num-
bers, addresses, etc., before I forget that, and in
case you forget them. Next, find a letter ad-
dressed Miss Kate Seaton. No, — a•venue,
Mrs. Arteveldt's house. I want you to deliver
it in mon, not as a ragman or a eensus•taker,
although these are good in their way, but as
Rohl Jocelyn, Gent, Doff the detective. Oulti-
va e Miss Seaton ; she iq a charming, sensible
girl, and, by the way, is fully confident that Le-
nore rmyn will yet be found innocent Miss S.
will ta k freely wit" you about the affair. and I
want you on a friendly footing there; it may
help us to know what is going on there some-
thnes. My letter to Miss S. introduees you as,
an old friend, lately arrived, and but little ac-
quainted in the city. A word to the wise, you
know.
Yours. BATE
"Iltunph 1" said Rob, as he folded and
put away this document. "More of
Neil's impudence—and I have got my
hand all out of the way of the thing.
And I'm so susceptible, too," heaving a
sigh of whimsical discontent. "Wcll, I
will call on Miss Seaton, of course; but
first dinner; next, the opal young lady,
and then I must call on Mrs. Rogers."
He was at his post soon after dinner,
having first taken the precaution to
station a carriage near_, bidding the
driver be in instant readiness to start.
He had waited half an hour when a well-
dressed young lady entered the store,
and, as had been pre -arranged, the
signal was given that told Rob Jocelyn
this was the looked -for lady. He im-
mediately moved toward the entrance,
and when the lady came out and crossed
the pavement to an open carriage he
passed quickly to his, saying to the
driver
"Follow that carriage, and do not lose
sight of it; do you understand ?"
"Perfectly, sir," replied the man, and
in a moment more they were speeding
away from the business portion of the
city.
On they went, finally turning into the
very street where Mrs. Rogers' boarding
house was situated. A moment later,
the driver bent down and said,
"They are stopping, sir; shall I drive
by?"
]]Yes; drive slowly."
In another moment they were passing
the house before which the carriage was
drawn up, and Rob Jocelyn saw with
astonished eyes, that the lady with the
opals, and whose name was Miss N. S.
Annin, was tripping up the steps of Mrs.
Rogers' boarding house.
Half an hour later, in the character of
a gentleman from the Pacific slope, he
stood zinging Mrs. Rogers' hell. As on
the previous occasion, Mrs. Rogers her-
self answered his ring.
"I have called as agreed upon, mad-
am," began Rob, with a bow; but Mrs. i
Rogers nterrupted the flow of his elo-
quer: ee.
"My rooms are all taken," she said,
shortly; "you may find some in the next
block." A.nd she shut the door with a
bang.
"So you won't let me into your house,
Mrs. • Regent" muttered Rob, as he
marched away. "Take care, Mrs.Rogers,
you must be more business -like."
'CHAPTER XXVII.--PICKING A POCKET.
November, December, January, the be-
ginning of a new year. January, Febru-
ary. It is February now, late in the
month, too. The winter snows are melt-
ing away, and a certain bear, who, ac-
cording to those versed in signs and
tokens, comes out from his lair—very
much, one might suppose, as the ring
master enters a circus arena with his
pronuneiamento —and says in his own
peculiar "bear" way, "my fellow beings,
Spring, beautiful Spring is about to
appear.''
It is late in February, and the world
has kept moving, but moving so smooth-
ly, for the actors in our drama, that they
are ready to declare it has been standing
still. All that has been accomplished by
Rob Jocelyn, all that has transpired, in
fact, may be gathered from the follow-
ing letter, from Rob to "Mr. John Jacob
My BELOVED Jong:31ton t
you and I didn'tknow what it was to hunt
jail birds we might think some valuable time
Was getting away, But I am 0.5 tranquil as an
Infent. Are you? lf, as you say, "Mr, Brady"
Is still ignorant of the truth concerning. Lenore
Armyn, arid thinks her sure to return to her
guardian at gairlie, if he gives her thrie enough,
cae understand how he ean poaseet his sonl in
patience. What a rum time you must have,
looping him at arnee length from the good doe.
tor, and gatbering up bogus info, 'nation for
hiM, When are yoe going to send lain. through
me, another widow O'Neil lettere Well,1 hay e
not vet get a clumee inside MI FL Rogers' board'
ing house, but. I'll swear to one thing, there's
sc.:menage crooked about it. and V11 iocate the
"crook" pretty soon, My young lady of the
opals, 18 still with MrslOgerii. 1 dOnif lose
sight of her, but she keeps very gulet, 1 have
seen her out once or twice with rorflinun, and
he and I stand pretty 'well, but for some reason
he Is more than comnionly cautious. 1 koow
dint he visits the Rogers' house, but he has PO
notion of taking anyone else there—this May be
because of the girl. •
I have asked of Miss Seaton the particulars
yoa laid out for me. She says that VIM Durand
has been out of town for two months, but she
has returned this week, Durand 1 is that the
party where the mysterious barg,lary was emn-
mitted? It's oda that neither the old doctor
nor Brad—I beg his pardon, Brady—have blun-
dered upon anything concerning the murder.
But I fancy it's BO mu0h more in your favor.
Reel) your eyes open, pard, I believe the circle
will close in presently.
Oh 1 by the way—yes--I do think MiSs Seaton
is a niceish sort of girl, Yours, Ron.
This was the letter that john Jacob
Austin held in his hand. one February
day, and perused for the secoad time,
preparatory to consigning it to the
flames, for although it was written in
characters more mysterious than Heb-
rew to the uninitiated, John Jaeob knew
better than to keep mysterious looking
documents about him unnecessarily.
"There," he ejaculated, as he dropped
the letter itt the blazing office'fire. "That
won't tell any tales. Now I wish the
doctor would come and get his mail."
John Jacob stood high in favor with
Doctor and Mrs. Austin; he boarded in
the fel mily and enjoyed their fullest con-
fidence.
"There's one thing, John, that I ani a
trifle notional about, and that is—ray
letters. I always go after them myself,
and never allow any one else to take
them from the office, unless sent by me.
This isnot a matter of suspicion, but of
principle. I have known much trouble.
to ensue from the incautious handling of
other people's letters. I never carry let-
ters for' others, and never expect them to
do so for me."
Of course John Jacob expressed perfect
approval of the arrangement, and it did
suit him, itt a one-sided way. He could
receive his own letters without suspicion,
or question., in the mind of good Doctor
Austin.
He had not been long in discovering
that neither the doctor, nor Bradwardine,
knew of the accusation against Lenore
Armyn ; for, spite of the fact, that the
doctor had been absent from Fairlie on
the very night of the murder and that
he had relsiuned from the city on the
very next day, the detective had not long
entertained the idea that he had been 2n
any manner accessory to the dark deed.
Doctor Austin might have been sum-
moned to assistLenore to escape from b.er
husband, or his absence might have been
a coincidence; but Neil Bathurst felt
that it would have been sheer absurdity
to accuse or suspect the doctor of such a
crime. He bad long ago ceased to won-
der that Doctor Austin. had never stumbl-
ed upon the knowledge of Lenore's blood
guiltiness. The good. man. read the
weekly city paper—that is, read all the
scientiftc articles, all the reviews,' and
sermons, the quotations, and—must we
confess it—the aniusement gossip. But
he shunned the records of crime, the
trials horrible disasters, suicides, mur-
ders;, he shunned them and politics, as
he termed it, "on principle."'
Good Mrs. Austin. never looked. at a
newspaper. believing that they could
be better utilized on her pantry shelves.
As for Bradwardine, Rob had hit the
mark concerning him. He was too
thoroughly an English snob to harbor
the idea that an American newspaper
could by any means prove entertaining
to him.
During the three months that had
passed, Jason Bradwardine had 'written
two or three letters to the widow O'Neil.
These had been forwarded by Rob, and
the answers had been returned through
the same medium. Mrs. O'Neil had not
been successful in finding the woman
who had purloined Mr. Braclwardine's
wallet, nevertheless the gentleman
seemed to have a reason for keeping
trace of the whereabouts of that [clever
and agreeable lady.
Mr. Bradwardine passed. in the village
for a gentleman of means, fond of retire-
ment and study, though no one could
have told what particular branch of the
sciences, or art, or literature, he most
affected. He had assiduously cultivated
the acquaintance of Dr. Austin but no
amount of cultivation, no que;tionang,
however shrewdly put, could elieit any
information concerning Lenore Armyn ;
on that subject the doctor was as stub-
born as a donkey, and as dunth as death.
As for the detective he had not ex-
pected any verbal communications from
Doctor Austin, he had relied upon other
means of gaining information; but, as
yet, he, too, had been unsuccessful.
Of late, Bradwardine had made some
overtures toward John Jacob, and that
astute young man was not slow in put-
ting two and two together—the English-
man was getting tired of country monot-
ony, and, if he could get a hint of the
whereabouts of Lenore, would soon ter-
minate matters in some way.
Of course John Jacob had his opinion
regarding the doctor's extreme reticence
on this one subject. Either he was keep-
ing her hiding place a.secret, at the re-
quest of Lenore, she having confided to
him in some way, a portion of the truth;
enough, of course, to arouse his sympa-
thies, or else he had, himself, assisted
her to gain that secure hiding place.
"I'm not at all sure that he would not
screen her just the same if he did know
of the murder," mused John Jacob) as he
sat alone by the office fire, studying, as
usual, upon this knotty problem; "at the
same time I am ready to affirm that he
don't know it. It's odd that there are no
pictures of the girl, even here l'Ins‘sseeesns
He arose with a yawn, glanced at his
watch, and seeing that it would soon be
time for the doctor's returo, stirred the
fire to a vigorous blaze, and took down a
'huge book which he opened and placed
beside hini on the table. Having thus
prepared himself for the expected arrival,
he relapsed again into thought. It was
not long before he heard footsteps ascend-
ing the stairs., and presently Doctor Aug -
tin came in like a stiff breeze.
"You are back, air?" said John Jacob,
quite unnecessarily,
"Yes, John, I'm back; , got my horse in
the stable, and been to the postoffice.
But I'm pretty tired,'' pulling off his coat
and fur cap. "There's a pretty brisk
wind across the open country, and I have
driven nineteen miles. It makes t'et nian
feel sleepy, this wind."
The doctor drev; a chatr to the fire and
took some letters from his pocket. As
he drew them forth one slipped to the
floor, and instantly John Jacob picked it
up and restored it to its owner, In that
one instant, however, he had caught a
glimpse:of the superscription, and reeog-
niadi tile handwriting, with a thrill of
deligbe
The doctor read hie letters and then re.
turned them to his pocket, after winob
he convened very theerfully with John
Jacob. The doctor would talk so loag as
he had a listner, and just now John !Jacob
preferred to have him silent.
"If he has no one to talk to, he will
fall eslee,p in five minutes," thought he,
lancing furtively at the kindly wind-
ushed lace. Then risiag, he eaid aload ;
"I believe I will go out fer a bit; I have
beeu sitting here so long, it makes me
feel d
"Thatls right, that's right, John. Go
out; it will do you good," replied Doctor
Austin. And the young man pulled on
his greatcoat and went.
Twenty xximutes later, he re-entered
the office with a step like a eat. Doetor
Austin lay upon the lounge, breathing
heavily, and evidently very sound asleep.
This was what John Jacob had hoped
for. Noiselessly he crept forward, and
bent over the sleeper. Lightly his fingers
moved about his breast fox' an instant,
and then he stood erect, holding some
letters in his hand. Softly, silently, he
moved toward the table, One glance
sufficed to select the right letter, and. in
another moment he was mastering its
contents. Into his face crept a look of
astonishmeat as he read, but he finished
the perusal quickly, wrote something on
a slip of paper; and then crept back, and,
as carefully as he had extracted them,
restored. all the letters to the pocket of
the unconscious man. This done, he
went softly out again. He walked. about
for a little while, seeming to have some
new and agreeable food for thought, and
then he turned once more toward the
office. This time he entered the room
somewhat noisily, and Doctor Austin
started, broad awake.
"Mercy on me !" he died, rubbing his
eyes; "I have been asleep. Did I sleep
very long, John ?"
"Not very long, sir. I !just came in ;
didn't suppose you were asleep, or I would
have been more ca,reful."
"Nonsense, John! 1 shouldhave been
awake and at work. I have some letters
to write," putting his hand to his pocket.
"Doctor Austin," said John Jacob,
sitting down near the lounge, and look-
ing uncommonly grave, "I would. like to
say a few words to you before you begin
to write, if you can spare me the time."
"Oertainly—of course, John • speak
right out. It's nothing serious, 1 hope?"
no air; nothing serious. The
fact is, I received a letter to -day from
an old New York chum—used to live on
the farm next me, you see. Well, he has
come to Chicago for a little trip, and he
wants me to meet him there, and sort of
go around with him for a week or so. I'd
like to see Jim very much, and I'd like
to see more of the city; so, if you don't
object, why, I think I'll just run down
and. see Jim and the rest of the sights."
Doctor Austin smiled a little at this
climax to John Jacob's speech, but he
answered, good-naturedly:
"Of course, I don't object, John; do as
you like; only be careful of yourself.
Chicago 's a mighty bad place for young
men sometimes. Don't get into bad
company, and don't, let any of those con-
fidence men get their hands on you."
"I'll try and take care of myself, sir.
I've been about a bit since Ileft thefarm,
and I guess those ehaps won't catch rae.
And that reminds me of the other thing
I had to say." Hero he paused, as if in
doubt how to proceed.
"Well, John?"
"The—the fact is, sir, I want to speak
to you about Mr. Brady."
"About Mr. Brady! why, what of him,
John?"
"You see, sir," said John Jacob, as if
making a desperate plunge into the sub-
ject, "I—I've wanted to speak about him
for a long time, but I was afraid you
would think me meddling, and Iwouldn't
like that," with a super -virtuous look.
"I don't set myself up for an extra smart
fellow, sir, but I guess Mr. Brady has
taken me for a bigger fool than I am, be-
cause I can't use such high-flown langu-
age as he handles. At any rate, he has
taken of late to quizzing me about your
private affairs, and he kept it up until he
aroused my suspicions,"
"What! what does he question you
about, John?" asked the doctor, much
startled.
"Why, sir, about some young lady that
used to live with you, I guess—Lenore,
something, I don't recall the other name.
He wants to find out something about her.
To tell the truth, when I got suspicious I
just let him go on a bit, and finally he
came out plump and said if I could tell
him or find for him the present address of
this lady, he would make me apresent of
a hundred dollars."
"Bless my heart," cried the doctor,
bounding up. "Bless my heart, John.
Why didn't you tell xne before? I see it
now; he used. to quiz me a little, too.
But—" sitting down again, suddenly, "I
don't know anything about the young
lady. I don't, positively."
"Of course you don't," said John
Jacob, indignantly,"but I tell you what,
sir, it's my opinion that Mr. Brady
is a spy or a detective or some sort of a
confidence man. and I just thought I
ought to tell you so before I went to the
city."
"I'm glad you did, John. I'm very
glad you did,, " said the doetor, still very
red in the face. "When do you want to
start, my boy?"
"To -morrow," said the bogus student,
not without sundry twitehings of con-
science. "I would like to get there at
the same time Jim does."
"Well, well, go and have a good time.
I'll give Kr. Brady a cool reception if he
comes about here any more. Come, John,
let's go to supper."
"I reckon I've spoked Brady's wheeh"
thought John Jacob as he drew on his
overcoat; "but who would have thought
of hiding Lenore Armyn in a mad house?'
CHAPTER XXVIII. —ESCATED:PROM4 MAD
HOUSE.
On the very outskirts of Chicago, on a
certain street which must be nameless,
stands a large house. It is old, but very
pleasant of aspect, standing in its own
grouttds, which are large, well kept and
beautiful.
It is a rambling irregular building,
quite unlike anything else in the vicin-
ity, and the occupants thereof are as
rambling, irregular and unlike their
neighbors as is the house itself, For this
is Dr. Buxton's private mad house.
If ever you are insane, reader, go to
Dr. Burton's. If your aspiration is to
Vat somebody's throat, or if you are lia-
ble to sudden fancies of that sort, at
stated times, he will clap you int the
straightest of straight jackets, and keep
you there until there comes an improve-
ment in your morals,
'If your tendency to destructiveness
ing the prodoets of nature" up by the
rcets, be will juraish you with "es
eort,7/ and let yoa wander about tile
house and grounds at your own meet
will. While if yoor malady is of the
mild and harmless sort elm will handle
know if you are under surveillance. You
May explore the premises anqueetioned
and unhindered, ad if there is nothing
eccentric. in your manner or appearance
you may even wander out upon the high-
way for recreation. In short, Dr, Burton
will let you do anything that you can
do decently and in order. even if you are
"mad as a Mara. hare."
In a large, pleasant, second -floor room
at Dr, Box ton's, cn this day ef which I
write, is a young and fragile looking
girl. The windows of this room overlook
the grounds, the front entrance and. ths
street beyond. There are no bars across
them ;to make them hideous, unsightly
things, neither is there anything in the
room to indieate that this is the abiding
place of a lunatic. The windows are
prettily draped with 'whitest lace, and
everything about the room is pretty,
feminine and indicative of refinement.
The girl, who is paciag slowly up and
down the room, es very lovely, spite of
her plain blaek dress, her pale face and
the look of unutterable woe and weari-
ness in the great yellow brown eyes.
Suddenly she flings herself down in the
great chair by one of the windows and
heaves a deep sigh.
'Oh !" she murmurs, half aloud, and
olenehing her am all hands tightly, "what
a life to live. and what, a future to con-
template! A vague mysterious shadow
from the first has hung over my entire
life, and now—this, this curse has come
upon me, and I—I must submit; there is
no help for it. But oh 1 were it not for
this other, older dread, would I not fight
to the death, but I must do nothing to
court publicity. I dare not."
She turned her eyes wearily toward
the window.
"Oh, the world is so large and it looks
so bright," she cried, "and here I am.,
caged almost. feigning a lunacy that will
soon become reality perhaps."
Caged she had sail; well, not to be
able to go where one wills is to be caged,
of course, and in this sense she was caged.
Otherwise she was Dr, Burton's most
privileged patient. She seldom chose to
walk outside the grounds, but when she
did desire a larger range she -was free to
go out and to go unattended.
All at once he started up with a, half
suppressed cry upon her lips. A gentle-
man had entered the grounds end was
walking rapidly towards the house. She
looked -again, closely, eagerly, and then
sbe drew suddenly away from the win-
dow.
"It is; it is that man, she breathed.
"If he should have seen me ; but no, that
is impossible."
She turned swiftly and shot 'the bolt
of her door, and then sat down, as if to
think of it.
Meantime the approaching visitor as-
cended the steps and rang the bell. it
was our friend Neil Bathurst, alias John
Jacob Austin, once more,
Buz this John Jacob was a degree
brighter than the John. Jacob who had
left Fairlie two days before. His clothes
were of a better material and better fit,
his hair was less sleek and oily and more
agreeable to the civilized sight and
smell. His face had lost its stolidity,
and the sheepish look was gone from the
eyes. Even his name had been retouch-
ed, for the neat white ard, which he
requested the servant, who admitted him,
to present forthwith to boctor Burton,
bore, in a firm hand, the Jeanie of John
J. Austin.
[TO BB CONTINUED.1
STOPPING A BUN ON A BANK.
It Was Only a Muff, but it Had the De-
sired Effect.
A man whose hair is now snow-white,
and whose activity long ago gave place
to the slowness and feebleness of old age,
tells the story of how, over thirty years,
in fact, nearly forty years ago in the
days of the gold fever on the Pacific coast,
he stopped a run on a bank by quickwit-
tedness, nerve and. boldness.
"The bank was perfectly solvent," he
said, "but one of those wild rumors that
used to float over mining towns insisted
that it had no gold, and that deposits
could never be made good. The run
started one afternoon just beforethe hour
for closing, and it was pretty exciting. I
tell you. Those miners were all armed.
and they swarmed around the house,
swearing, shouting and howling desper-
ately. We continued to pay out money
up to the usual hour for closing, and then
we stopped. It was just about time to
stop, too, for our supplyof gold was near-
ly exhausted.
"We drove the people out of the bank
and posted a big notice on. the door:
"'This bank will open at the usual
hour in the morning.'
"They cheered at that, but they did
not disperse, and leaving an armed guard
in the bank I went home to think over
some possible way of avoiding a collapse.
This was the plan I had to follow; Ryas
a slim ehanee, but my only one. Over in
5—. another town, I had another bank,
no better off for ready gold than this i
one. I was interested n a stage line,
and among the property which I had ac-
quired in a 'dicker' once was a load of
wagon washers. They were stored over
in 5—. I set out on horseback at a
gallop for had four horses hitched
to a stage coach, filled several gunny -
bags with washers and loaded them on
the coach. The bluff did not stop there.
Inside and on top of the coach I placed
half a dozen men armed to the teeth, to
guard the immense treasure.
"We went out of S— at a, sharp trot
before daylight, and arrived. at my be-
sieged bank shortly before the time for
opening. When the crowd saw the well-
filled sacks they cheered like mad, but I
never said a word. I had half the guards
clear a passageway, and then, while the
armed men carefully watehed the crowd,
the sacks of washers were transferred to
the vault—it was a brick and sheet -iron
affair, on the same floor with the desks—
while the erowd cheered and cheered.
"When it was time to throw open the
doors for business I came out to the steps.
"'Boys!' I shouted, don't know hoar
much of a run you are going to make on
this bank, so I have prepared. for you.
All I have to say is, start right in. There
are plenty of full sacks in this bank, and
we eau get more if we need them. the
bank is now open for business.'
"Well, those boys lifted the hair off my
head with their yelling, and there was no
run. A few timid people withdrew their
deposits, but we were able to pay them
without having to open our seeks of 'wash-
ers—fortunately for us."
does not extend beyond a hunger and Shallow cultivation is
thirst for sniashing furniture lead tear- grape vines.
always best for
T40 Tragedy Of the Steelia4e.
Olio tight an old fellow came to tlaa
stocnade where the convicts wen penned,
and Bald that be had heard that mere
guards were need.
"We do need moreguards," the slenere
indent replied, "but do you think you
can serve our perpese?"
"Yes, I think I eau."
"But you're pretty
"1 lieow that, but I've get DIY second
sight and 1 4:ao them a gun as well as
I ever oou1d, aod that's oue of the main
requirernents, I zeekon."
"Yes, the orders are strict—shoot any
eorrviet that attempts to get. away. But
it strikes me that yoii are it little too
old."
The- old fellow stood ander a lamp
swinging from a cross -beam in the guard
rot in, I-3 is gray whiskers and his white
hair, catebiag the moving ligbt and the
following shadow, gave him & weirdly
-venerable look.
"Now you rery think Pra too old, but
Pni not" he 'ea ged. "I'll hill any man
that tries to get away; and not onlythis,
if they should try to overpower rae they'll
nd me the handiest man with a gun
they ever saw. Cap'n, I wish you'd give
me this place, fax' 1 need it. Somehow I
haven't the heart to do much ell any-
thing, and fur a good while I have just
been aril tieg frcia one place to another.
Family's all gone—wife's dead, ax,d my
children are scattered c verywhere. Give
me the place, Cap'n, and I'll do my
duty."
"What is your name?"
"Well, I've been called 'Old Arabrosel
so long that I hardly know what my
Other name is. Reckon you'd better call
inc Old Ambrose.
"I don't know whether to take you or
not Mr. Ambrose."
"Old Arebro: e, if you please."
"All right. then, Old Ambrose. As I
was saying, I don't know -whether to take
you or not. A. number of ccrtvicte have
got away lately and the lessee is held
responsible, and he, of course, looks to
"But didn't I tell you that I'd got my
second sight ?"
"Yes, that's all very well, lint still I
am afraid. But we do need another man,
Are you willing to get up of mornings at
five o'clock ?"
"Sir, I can't sleep after four."
"And you can stand a diet of corn
bread and beef?"
"My dear sir, wheat bread. gives me
dy,spepsia, and beef is my only meat."
"All right, Mr. Ambrose—"
"Old Ambrose, sir."
"4.11 right, Old Ambrose, 1'11 tay you
for a while,anyway. 1,, -merrcw morn-
.
ing you e go 'with a gang to the
second embankment, al out two miles
from here, and you'll have to get up
earlier than 5 o'clock."
"Allright, sir."
"And 1 thing you'd better turn in now
so as to bo.et enough sleep."
"I will sir."
"By the way, there's your gun in the
orner."
Early the next morning the old man
moved out with the squeal, and just be-
fore the embankment was reached he
thus addressed a brother guard: "I
hated to do this sort of work, but the
truth is, I'm hardly fit for anything.
I've travelled 200 miles since I had a
regular job, and I made a dead set at
thes one, and I'm going to keep it if I
oaia. I reckon all a man has before him
is his duty, and. I never had my duty to
scare me yet. I hope I won't have to
shoot at one of these convicts, for, as I
said last night, I've got my second sight,
and a man that ever could shoot can
shoot better than ever when his second
sight comes."
Old Ambrose stood at one end of the
embankment. It was just about day-
light. Suddenly a convict fell, rolled
down the embankment and then, spring-
ing to his feet, made a break for a skirt
of woods not a great distance.
"Hall!" ma Ambrose cried. The
convict paid no attention. Three times
did Old Ambrose ery halt, andthen fared.
The convict fell.
"You got him," said the construction
boss coming forward.
"Yes, and I know he's done for. I was
going to shoot him in the leg, but just as
I pulled the trigger he stepped in a low
place. Pm going over to see the poor
fellow."
The construction boss went with him.
It was now broad daylight. The convict
lay on his face. The construction boss
turned him over.
"Merciful God," Old Ambrose cried,
sinking upon his knees. The convict
chat he had killed was his son.
When Baby was siek, we gave her Castoria.
When she was a Child, she cried for Castoria.
When she became Miss, she clung to Castoria.
When she had Children, she gave them castor/a.
To keep lemons for years, grate the
yellow part of the rind, and. sgreeeste the
juice; and to every fuer lemons a pound
of sugar, and put in glass stopped jars.
These are equal to fresh ones itt winter
for pies, and can also be used for lemon-
ade.
THE
MOST SUCCESSFUL REMEDY
OR MAN OR BEAST.
Certain in its effects and never blisters.
• Read proofs below,:
KENDALL'S SPAVIN CURE
BurnrOins, L. L, Zan. 15,
Dr. B. 3. KENDALL Co.
Gentlemen—I bought a splendid bay horse some
time ago with a Einnvin. I got him for g80. I used
Kendall's %Ando Cure. The Spavin is gone now
and I have been offered $150 for the Sante horse.
I only had hint nine weeks, so I got t120 for using
52 Worth of Kendall's Spain Cure.
Yours truly, W. S. Matiaoaa.
KENDALL'S SPAVIN CURE
Dr. B. Alabotta. Co.Santev. Um., Deo. 16, 1858.
wittaiisoot abrave ennlegoryoeutir ritietrabannt'ar8 ot3Psuovrobsin 91171
It is the best Liniment / have ever used.
Yours truly, AnOtnin SitannIUMS.
PrIne SI per Bottle.
tor Sale by all Druggists, or address
Ar..B.J.rn06/ritxaDatidoZA.L.60.0vi.M.P Nys,)