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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. 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