Loading...
HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1897-1-28, Page 2A Dark s Werk. By Paul Ingelow. ( (coNxzLeUmD,) is But Dave Wharton might die? Even if he lived, weeks might elapse ere he could appear in a court of justice, and meantime, Gladys Vernon might be decoyed to the villa by the threatening Ralph Durand, and, put out of the way, her lover aright be doomed. No! Le Britta could not bear the thought of lying inactive, He must be at work in the interests of imperiled innocence, and he resolved first and foreauost to try and secure a reproduction of the missing directions as to the hidden treasure -boa, and then to covertly and in disguise watch Haw- thorne villa, in the hopes that Gladys might return thither; to warn and resoue her,,, to learn, if possible, where Ralph Durand had Sydney Vanoe im- prisoned, or held under his baleful spell of terror. But fate ordained a far different pro- gramme for that day. Arrived at his studio, Le Britta was startled with the quick query from his fair assistant:— "Mr. Le Britta, have you seen them?" t "Them,who?"queried the photographer, wonderingly. "Four men looking for you, and bound to find you, they said," ' "Why! who are they" --began Le Britta, vaguely, "They said they were officers," demurely announced Miss Maud. "Officers!" gasped Le Britta, "looking for me." "Yes," replied Maud, a roguish twinkle in her eye—"officers of the Knigtbs of Pythias." "Oh!" ' Le Britta's mouth expanded in an ' intelligent smile. lie eomprehauded now. .At a point not many miles distant a conclave for the state was to begin that day. He had received an invitation. More than that, friends, brothers of the order, bad insistedthat he be present, not only to help enjoy the ceremonies and festivit- ies of the nccasion, but also to take photographic groups. He had decided not to go three days previous. Business itself prevented. More than that, bis interest in the Vernon case took all his thoughts from partici- pating in any event of gayety. "They are looking, for you—went up to the house " explained Maud. "There they are!' • Four jolly, noisy friends burst into the studio as the fair artiste spoke. "Le Britta! we've caught you." "Sir Knight! emu can't escape us." F Hearty greetings followed. 1 "Get ready. We're off ou the next train. Stopped over for you, spoke one of the quartette." "Boys, I can't go," dissented Le Britta. •"Nonsense!" "You see, business—" "It's business we want you to go for. • We want some pictures taken." "There's a fu:st-class photographer on hand." 1 "He don't know how to pose us as ynu dc. Nouse, Le Brittal No camera in the state can do such irresponsible fellows as ns justice except yours." It was useless resisting. Ho had bean the soul and life of too many such gatherings to be excused. Reluctantly he assented, made hasty preparations for a brief stay in the neihboring city, and had a short consultation with his friend Doctor /silken. - "I can go on from there to Crossville and look up the missing document, Dick," he suggested. 1 "Just the thing, .Tera" 7They reached their destination hnfore noon. The. city was given over to she genial knights and their majestic un] - forms glowed on every street. Some twenty members of a certain ledge insisted an having their photo- graphs taken in a group while they.felt fresh and had the leisure, and arrange- ments were forthwith made. Le Britta visited a photographer whom . be know, and whose studio was supplied with the very best instruments in use in the art. The latter felt it an honor rather than • an intrusion to have so famed a fellow - artist take his place at the camera, and ' the operating room was soon filled with the score of knights anxious to have a taking picture made in group. Le Britta exerted himself to produce a striking effect. The light was fine, the camera, lenses and other accessories in barmony with the scenic accouterment of the studio. Posing a subject was his peculiar forte, and he erouped his friends with great care. Ho tried to explain to one stubborn knight that he must present • his left face to the camera. "Why, the most striking curl. of my mustache is on the right," demurred the gentleman in question, jokingly. "Yes, and all your age and hardness of expression as well," retorted Le Britta; "Always remember this, boys, when you have your picture taken— present the left side of your face. From long observation I have learned that the right side of the face is the ugliest. It is the false side of a man's character, it shows all the furrows and crow's-feet first; the right eye dims earliest; why,. I can't tell, but it does. whereas, the left side of the face is softer, gentler, more natural and expressive. Now, then." "Look pleasant!" laughed a jolly voice. [ 'Grin!" sang out another veteran. (( "Not at all," demurred Le Britta, "Look natural; that is all. Remember, you have a mind, and that upon your features are indelibly stamped your char- acteristics, You are responsible for these; not the artist. If you want the picture to delineate what is best in you, think your highest, purest thoughts; let Your thoughts dwell upon what is joyful, peaceful and sweet in life," 1 Le Britta was careful inosin his P g ' subjects; he was equally particular that the proper light should fall upon each t face. ' '` "Ready!" There was a moment of silence, and the picture was-ta taken, Le Britta did not say "Excellent" He knew the photo- graph would express that word, and the. group repeat it when they Dame to inspect the same, later on. • Three other groups desired to come under his care that afternoon, but the photographer had promised to do some; work that required a personal use of the camera at once, and an arrangement was made for the next morning, "If X can got away from these jolly fellows, I will run down to Crossville this afternoon," reflected. Le Britta. "I can get back in time for the exercises t evening, ev Hing, for it is only a few miles distant." Crossville was the town that, in the ordinary segneuoe of attars, Dr. Richard Milton decided had been the place where the tramp had secured the last and subsegnonely obliterated strip of paper bearing on the secret of the hiding -plane of Gideon Vernon's treasure -box. At four o'clock that afternoon, the photographer managed to steal away from his friends, and an hour later be reached the little town of Crossville, CHAPTER XXIL—CLUE ONE! The reader will remember, that of the three little strips of paper found in the shoo of the injured tramp at Dr. Richard Milton's office, one had been disfigured and rendoreci uudecipherable by damp- ness penetrating the sole and defacing it. The tramp, when he left Hawthorne villa, had, with clever shrewdness, stopped at the first town, and had engaged some person to write the preamble, or first section of his secret. At the next town, a second portion bad been chronicled on a second strip of paper. It was reasonable, therefore, for the doctor and Le Britta to theorize that at the next town on his vagrant route he completed the record. The next town being Crossville, hither the photographer bad come, hoping by inquiry and investigation to trace the person whom the tramp had employed to write the third section or the balance of the secret, without which only a blind search could result for the hidden box of treasure. There were about fifty houses in Cross- ville, a hotel, a tavern, and the usual meager array of small shops and stores to be met with in every humdrum, way - back rural settlement. Le Britta had a very fair description of the tramp in his mind. To his Dare, also, Doctor Milton had intrusted the manilla envelope and the three bits of paper it contained. Armed with the blurred strip, presumably written at Crossville, Le Britta set out to locate its author. He first visited the hotel, then in turn the stores, the shops, and several private houses. Had the occupants seen, several days before, a trampish-looking man, dressed so and so? No, none oould recall the individual inquired about. There had bean so many tramps around, they could not remember any particular one. They all looked alike, and talked alike, Le Britta's informants averred. Had he, however, seen the village constable? He was the man to go to. Eagle-eyed, inquisitive, this official was supposed to welcome the advent of all strangers, and especially keep watch of those whose appearance was in the least degree suspicious. Le Britta made several inquiries before he located the public functionary in question. He found the constable seated in the bar -room of the tavern, smoking a corn -cob pipe and telling stories. Le Britta could stand the pungent odor of chemicals, but liquor made him shudder with repugnance. He inanaged to lure the constable away from the distasteful proximity of the fiery com- pounds, that treat a man's stomach with about as much courtesy as an acid bath does an undeveloped plate, making finally the proboscis a true ruby -light, and the dental condition of the unfur- tnnate, when his last dollar is gone, mush to resemble a blue -print! "I am looking for some trace of a tramp who passed through Crossville about a week ago," announod Le Britta, as a preface. "A tramp?" and the constable pricked up his ears, and looked wise and swelled out grandiloquently. "Alt! a tramp? Just so." "Dressed"—and the photographer gave an accurate description of Dave Wharton. "Seams to me I remember him." "He wore an old, faded army cap." "Ali! I've gat him!" ejaoulated the officer. "Sure?" "Yes. I ordered him to leave the place; I even went with him to the limits." "And he asked you to do a bit of writing for him?" The constable started violently. "Hello! how did you know that?" he ejaculated. "Didn't you?" persisted Le Britta "I did, for a fact." "Was that part of what you wrote?" Le Britta exhibited the half -obliterated writing from the tramp's manilla enve- lope. The constable examined it. "Yes," he admitted, "that's it." "You see it is almost erased?" ' "Yes, I see it is." "Can you remember what it was yon wrote?" The constable reflected deeply. "I can't remember the exact words," he stated, finally. "But the substance?" "Yes, something about a big, flat rock." "A big, fiat rock." "And then, a path leading down past some wild -grape vines." "Proceed, please." "And between two spurs of stone, a small spring. That's all." "Sure?" "Yes." Le Britta thanked the man. His in- formation had been concise and satisfao- tory. He explained that the tramp had got hurt, and that he was looking up a memorandum he had made, of consider- able importance to himself and others. "Then he returned to the city, feeling that he had scored a material point in the case in hand. From the description given, he was sure that he could find the hidden treasure -box. A pleasant time he passed with the knights that evening, and the next morning, with quite a party of them, he repaired to the photographer's, to take their pictures. lean only give you anhour, " exclaimed the latter to Le Britta. There is a dramatio company just leaving town, and they are coming to have some photo- graphs taken.>, An hour will be ample time," responded Le Britta; and it was; for he got through with 'his friends, andaleft orders with the photographer as to the disposition of the pictures upon comple- tion, just as !several ladies entered the waiting room. Preparing the negatives consumed some little time, but at last Le Britta came out into the operating room. Well, good -by," he said. Ahl excuse me, 1 thought you were alone." The photographer was behind his camera,' and seatgd near a'screen was'a. veiled lady, evidently a member of the dramatic troupe he h d ma referred to, Lift your veil, please," he said to the latter. I am all ready," The lady obeyed him, "Mercy" ejaculated the petrified Le Britta, .starting bank half- a -dozen feet in sheer surprise and bewilderment, Staring blankly at the fair features revealed, he stood like one in a 'trance.. The lady at the moment happened to gaze at him. With a violent start, she turned pale as death, and arose to her feet as she evidently recognized him. Then, with a wild ory, she reeled where she stood, and fell senseless to the floor. CHAPTER XXIII. •—CHECKMATE. The new master of -Hawthorne ,villa had got up late. Moreover, ho had arisen with a headache, the result of too free indulgence in strong drink the previous night. The mask of even ordinary civility was down now. Alone, unwatohed, the lax muscles of his face, the ugly, malign- ant glare of his sinister eyes proclaimed Ralph Durand to be a very bad and a very dangerous man. He kinked over a pretty ottoman, the handiwork of gentle Gladys Vernon; ho smashed a dainty perfume case in his impatience at a wry collar, and then, half-dressed, hurried to the dining -room to brace his shattered nerves with fre- quent potations of his favorite liquor— rum, "There! I feel like a man again," he muttered, complacently, as the strong drink flushed his face and tingled in his blood. "I'm going it a little too strong, though. Durand, old boy! this won't do The master of a fortune and a rare old establishment like Hawthorne villa, must go slow, respectable -like. Just now, pure dash and defiance have made every one in sight take to flight or con- cealment, but they may mass their forces anew. Yes, I need to be wary, vigilant, indomitable. If I drink too'muoh I may get careless, I may be taken unawares. I must have acool head, iron nerves, a never sleeping eye. No more drink in excess, old boy! until 'I 'select my plans." Rostored to good humor, ;leak% Durand called the villainous-lookis-F' fellow he had apponted steward, gave his orders for the day, ate an ample breakfast, and, arraying himself in the loudest suit he possessed, started to walk toward the distant village. "I'll wake them up—I'll bring that old fogy of a family lawyer to his senses" he muttered. "No time like now. Gladys bas been scared away—I know how to bring her back. She must come back? Her return is essential to my plots. First, there are certain little legal for- malities that vest a thorough right m me for handling the estate that she must tacitly sanction; next, if I see the for- tune slipping from my hands, I must proceed to extreme measures. She might make a will and die, leaving me sole heir. She might marry—me. What an ideal but, as I hold her in mortal terror, why not? With the proofs to send her lover, Sydney Vance, to the gallows, with evidence that I control his liberty, she is a pliable tool in my subtle hands. Ah! I plot wisely, I execute well." The cold-blooded schemer chuckled serenely. He out savagey at the pretty flowers by the roadside as he strolled, along. He hated beauty—despised nature. It had no oharms for Haim. As he mutilated the glowing buds, so would he cruelly crush every foe to his interest who dared to cross his path. c"As to that meddling photographer, he won't appear again in a hurry," con- tinued Durand. "I checked his mad career summarily, I obliterated the last tangible clue, in sight, to my rascality, as he terns it, my shrewdness, I say—. the glass negative. Master of the situa- tion complete, I uropose to bring affairs to a climax, money matters to a basis. I intend to begin lining my nest from the proceeds of the estates lest misadventur: overcomes me, and turns me out of my position as censor of Gladys Vernon's fate and the Vernon fortune." Durand proceeded straight to the office of the lawyer the minute he reached the village. "Mr. Munson in?" he demanded, familiarly, of the boy in the outer office. "Yes, sir." "Busy?" "Writing a letter, yes, sir. Does not wish to be disturbed." "He'll see me" interrupted Durand, insolently. "Tell him Mr. Durand is bere." "Mr. Durand? Yes sir." replied the inexperienced youth, overawed by Mr. Ralph Durand's Imperious manner, and the glitter of his great diamond pin. "He'll see you, sir," he announced, reappearing in a few minutes. "Thought he would! How are yon, Munson?" Durand flung himself into an easy chair as be entered the private office. The lawyer nodded curtly. His drawn brews told how he disliked his visitor. "Not over glad to see me, are you?" laughed Durand, viciously. "Can't be helped, though. Come to see you on business." . ' "Ah! on business?" repeated the lawyer, his lips grim and set. "Exactly." •'About"— "The Vernon estate." "Proceed." "I am executor,." "You seem to be." • "Much against your liking! However, you won't dispute my claim. What I want to know is, how affairs stand. I am executor—I want something to execute!" Ralph Durand chuckled diaaibolically at his horrible pleasantry. The lawyer looked disgusted. 'In other words," he said, "you wish to assume your trustP" "At once." "And take charge of the estate." "Tho ticket, exactly." Mr. Munson took down a portfolio. It was marked on the outside, "Estate of Gideon Vernon—Private. He opened it, and drew forth some papers. "Mr.. 'Vernon s last memoranda of his possessions, real- and personal," he announced. "Very good, go on" pried Durand, with sparkling, avaricious eyes. "To summarize, there is the villa"— " Worth?" illa"-"Worth?" "With furniture and belongings, say, twenty thousand dollars.' "Quite a plum." "Next the mines at Leeville—" "Valued?" "At ono hundred; and twenty five thousand. Hewas offered that, once, "Better still! next!" "Real estate tat in St. Louis unim v pr o ed boulevard lots--" "Would bring?" "At least fifty thousand dollars." "It's piling up" gloated the delighted plotter, "I want it all turned over to nee. As trustee, I do as I please with it —invest it, speculate, bank or devote to improvements." "Unfortunately, under the very lax conditions of the will, you may." "Never wind that, Now then, old Vernon of course left lots of ready cash seourities, bonds, jewels and the like?" "He had such, yes, before he died. 1 see on this meanoranda, that the day be- fore bis death, he listed his personal belongings at a clear hundred thousand dollars. h " RalpDurand's eyes fairly blazed with covetousness. To handle all that in ready cash! His finger ends tingled. "Now, thou," he cried, excitedly, "when can you turn a11 this property over to nae?" "At any moment." "Do it now !" "On an order from the court." Durand's face fell, but he safd, a moment later:— (TO BE CO.VTINUBlD.) THE ARCTIC MAILS. Mr. Dorsey's Attempts to Send a Letter to Herschel Island. "A philosopher says that every man has his troubles," said ex -Detective Dor- sey, who used to be one of Chief Byrnes' sleuths, "and in my time I Lave handled lots and lots of Dien who had a varied assortment of troubles, but I never ex- pected that any of my own troubles would break the record. But," added the old sleuth in a rueful tone, "I believe I am involved in a trouble now that is absolutely unique and worthy to be classed as a record breaker." As he spoke the gray haired Hawk- shaw held up a letter that was covered with canceling stamps and queer post - office marks. "You see that letter" he continued. "Well, it has become a nightmare to me. It is the record breaking trouble I spoke of, and incidentally it is a constant re- minder that others have their troubles, too, notably the man to whom it is ad- dressed, and who can't get it. "You see, it's this way: This letter, as you notice, is addressed to an accom- plished gentleman who is chief engineer of a steam whaling vessel. He was here last summer and we had a fine time to- gether, and he asked me to be sure to write to him when he left in August and let hien know how his friends were Ho wrote out his address:— Mr. —, Chief Engineer, Steamer Mary D. Hume, Herschel Island, Arctic Ocean. "He told me that the whaler would anchor at Herschel island all winter and that ho would get a letter all right. Well, I .wrote him on Nov. 1 a letter telling him all the news and posted it, faithfully copying the address that had brought the letters all right previously. Nearly a month passed, and then the postman surprised me one day by hand - nig me back my letter. It had come back from Alaska and had been delivered by way of the Third avenue cable mail car. Across the face of the envelope in big black letters was stamped the cheer- ing information 'Misdirected.' "I thought it finny that an old whaler like my friend didn't lmow where he was at, and I looked the matter up on a big atlas. I found Gerschel island all right in Mackenzie bay, at the mouth of Macken- zie river in the Dominion of Canada, and I went down to see Postmaster Day- ton about the arctic postmaster's little joke, 'Misdirected,' on that envelope. They were real nice and polite at the post -office and put the envelope, joke and all, into one of Uncle Sam's official mail envelopes and changed the address thus:— Mr. —, Chief Engineer, Steamer Mary D. Hume, Via Juneau, Herschel Island, Alaska. Arctic Ocean. "Juneau, they said, was a government mail station, and the letter would get there this time. Fatal delusion! In just about another month back came the official envelope again by way of the Third avenue cable road mail service, and again marked 'Misdirected.' It had struck a fatal frost again. Now, what I want some wise man to discover is how on earth persons who are in the arctic regions correspond with friends in less frigid regions. I'm knocked out. The strangest thing about it all is .that the day before Christmas I got from this estimable gentleman that I can't corre- spond with a big polar bearskin, all cured and mounted as a parlor rug. How in thunder a big thing like that can get down from Herschel island to New York all right, when a little thing like a letter can't get there in the other direction, completely stumps me. Talk about troubles! Are there any in it with trying tocrack that puzzle?" A Sun reporter who submitted the case to men familiar with the arctic regions was informed that the letter should have been held at Sitka, Alaska, on its first journey to the polar reigion and that somebody blundered in sending it back. There is a recognized ocean mall in the arctic sea, which consists of a cask that floats around in a radius of about 100 miles, these experts said, and whalers go up to it and pick their letters out. It isn't in operation now because it is frozen in and can't circulate. A fleet of whalers is also frozen in around Her- • schel island. Mail intended for them ie held generally at Sitka or other polar mail stations until the warm weather sets "If the baffled polar correspondent," says one expert, "redirects that letter, puts a 5 cent stamp on it and sends it by way of tie Dominion of Canada, giv- ing the location of Herschel island as 'Mackenize bay,' and: adds 'Please for- ward,' there is a chance that some of the Indians along the afaokanzie river, who axe sometimes in communication with the whaler fleet in winter, may be moved to deliver it before the Fourth of July, 1898. I can't think of . any other way of expediting the troublesome delivery. The delay, you know, is one of the abiding joysof an arctic winter. Communication with civilization and its privileges is an unknown Luxury there. "—New York Sun. It is said that torpedoes, when first em- ployed by our navy in the Revolutionary war, :were called American turtles: Their use was pronounced infamous and worth] only of savages by the enemy. LAMPLIGHT. Dear little lady, co tumbled and sleepw. Kneeling at dusk with her head on my kneel Lamplight is dim, and the shadows are creepy, Dear little lady, and, ah, sad mel • Baying a prayer that the angels must soften— Ah, little lady, could only it bel Time was when I prayed, too, often and often, Longing for one that we ne'er shall sea. • Dear little lady, till play days are over Kneel here at dusk at my own tired kneel Ne'er could you know what is under the clover, Dear little lady, hut, ah, sad me. —Post Wheeler in New York Press. TWO WIVES. "It's grown chilly, hasn't It?" • "Oh, yes," said Agnes Lawton, with a saorastio laugh. She was huddling in btfr dapper street gear before the pennon of crackling flame on ber friend's hearth. "It's blown horribly chilly, Marion—for mor" "Another quarrel, I suppose, with your husbaud?" "A quarrel this time that ends every- thing. I'm going to my mother in Bos- ton." R "Don't, my dear." Marlon Kingsland spoke thus in tones tranquil and low. She was swaying her- self softly in a rocking chair, and she had folded Ler arms in a leisurely way. She was a large, blond woman—not handsome, but with a beautiful figure and a facie full of sweet gravity. "Oh, you've always said that," replied young Mrs. Lawton, frowning at the fire. "But now I mean to disobey your coun- sel." "Very well, Agnes; as you please. Re- member I've always said one thing. Your husband loves you devotedly"— that's the very point, Marion! He loves me, but not devotedly. Be"— and here Mrs. Lawton lowered her face and drew out the next words in a dogged, dragging undertone—"he is not faithful." The oscillations of Mrs. Kingsland'a rocking chair quickened the least little bit. "Wbat husband is?" "Yours." "Oh, Trent—yes! I wasn't thinking of him." She colored, biting her lips. "What is the present trouble, Agnes? Tell me." "It's very simple. I found a note in Fred's—I mean Mr. Lawton's—overcoat pocket, " "My dear Agnes, what were you doing there?" "Doing there?" "You were spying—jealously spying," said Marion, with ber usual calm. "Ad- mit it." "You're crueler than usual, Marlon. I was a fool to come here. Mamma will sympathize, however. I shall take the S o'clock train for Boston." "Was the note very dreadful?" "Oh, it told its own story. And, as you're aware, this is not the first time"— "That you've gone through your hus- band's pockets? I know. And the aigna- tureP" "Initials. " "I see. And a very violent quarrel fol. lowed?" "The most violent we have ever bad. And the last wo shall ever have." Marion Kingsland stopped rocking, "Agnes," she said, breaking a pausg, "1 don't know a husband who in public is more respectful, more attentive, more posi- tively gallant to his wife than yours." "In public!" bristled the other. "Wbat does that mean?" "It means a great deal more than many a wife-gets—many a wife of our acquaint- ance whom I've heard you openly pity in ray hearing. Now, answer me frankly. Might not that letter which you found and read have implied a flirtation, a passing sentiment, rather tban the very lurid and scandalous interpretation you put upon itl I say, might it not? Think for a mo- ment before you answer." Agnes tossed her head, decked in a tiny bonnet of tangled pansies. "Well, perhaps," she presently conced- ed, with distinct reluctance. "Perhaps," repeated Marion. "Now that is at least an admission. It puts Frederick in a more pardonable light. But it does not excuse you from being most rashly in- discreet." "Oh," fumed Agnes, "I do so detest that kind of philosophy I" "We women can cultivate none that is sounder." "We women, Marioni How would you feel, pray, if your Trent"— "Never mind my Trent, dear. Let us talk generalities for a few minutes. There's hardly a household that hasn't its Bluebeard's chamber." "Except yours. And so you can af- ford"— "Generalities, please, Agnes, just for a little while. There are Fatimas who do pry, and there are Fatimas who don't. The latter have by far the best time of it —that is, when their B]uebeards treat them fondly and courteously. Discretion is a wonderful safeguard to conjugal con- tentment. The moral obligation with men should be as strong as it is with women. I freely grant you that. But society does not grant it, and in the lives of our great - great -great-grandchildren it will not prac- tically employ any, such system of ethics unless I miserably err. It is a system talked about, written about, and, if at some day it will be actively exploited, on that day everybody who now lives will lie, as I firmly believe, in graves whose deep- est out headstones have grown undecipher- able blurs. The new woman may dream her dreams and even realize a few of them. But, after all, it is still a man's world, and a Iran's world for many centuries it must remain. Fatima will reap nothing by her curiosity except unhappiness. So many of them live and die in blissful ig- norance. And it is so much, better that they should. Men are men, and the leop- ard does not change bis spots. Why not let well alone? A wife can tend and water her jealousy and her suspicion precisely as if they were two different specimens of fern in a favorite jardiniere. Of course marital neglect, ill treatment, rudeness, are all entre chose. But I have often taken a thoughtful survey, Agnes, of my own so- cial surroundiuga. They are very much the same as yours, my dear, We often meet at the same teas, dinners, dances. We know the same set -the smart set, I suppose one would call it—and most of our men friends are married, like our- selves. And I've repeatedly asked myself, judging as much by what they don't say as by what they do say, if a vast amount 4f, family torment may not be avoided by the simple process of Fatima refraining from all interference with Bluebeard'e key bunch," Here Agnes sprang from ber seat by the flre and looked tearfully, impetuously, round the tasteful sitting room of her friend. "Ob, Marion," she cried, "you tell ms you are talking generalities, but to me. they are the most piercing personalities! And why? Because I'm not only jealous of him—I'm jealous of you! From your uerene heights of perfect married nappe Doss, the wife of a man who worships you, as all the world knows, who is a model of every virtue under the sun, and who prob- ably never looks at a woman without thinking how far she falls below you, his. ideal, it is easy enough to preach disere- tion and circumspection. You've the key to all your apartments. You're a Fatima with a Bluebeard who doesn't know the . meaning of a looked door." Hero Agnes laughed in a sort of hysteric way and pointed to a near chair. "That's one of his overcoats, now." While speaking sbe slipped acmes the room and lifted a mass of dark broadcloth, holding it aloft. "Why, yes," said Marion, raising her quiet brows in surprise. "He came back this morning after leaving for down town and ordered a thicker one of Strayne be- cause of the changed weather, eltrayne must have left it tilers, He's a goad serv- ant enough, but he has his careless woods." Agnes, with another odd laugh, thrust ber hand into one of the pockets. " You've no fear of finding anything, you irritat- ingly happy Marion, You are"— Suddenly she paused. She, had drawn forth a lilao tinted envelope which had been raggedly torn open at one of its sides: "A woman's hand, Marlon," she ex- claimed, "or I've never seen onol And the date of arrival four days book, It smells of violets too. Well, really I" "Agnes!" Marion went forward and took the note from her friend's grasp with uneh;,raet,,r- istic speed. Sho was pale already, !gut she grew paler as she scanned the superscrip- tion and then raised the envelope to her nostrils. She loved her husband intensely and knew that he returned her love. Not the slightest incident of her life had she ever kept concealed from bile, and she haul ral- ways felt confident that on his own side there was a like absolution of coufidenoe and candor. It stabbed her to the soul as she thought now that no forgetfulness had prevented him from telling her of this note. They led fashionable lives, but they led them together, For all that they might sometimes pass hears apart, their constant intimacy and comradery were beyond dis- pute. For a few seconds she stood perfectly stili, holding the letter. Then she went to the overcoat which Agnes' had j.ust re- placed upon the chair and slipped the let- ter back into one of its side pockets. Sho was a woman who had always been held to possess no common share of self command. She justified this belief now. "Bluebeard's chamber," she said, with a smile, but it was a smile quite dila and joyless. And then she raised one finger and put It against her lips in a gesture that not only symboled silence, but en- joined it. Agnes watched her in astonishment. She knew that there was never any pose about her friend; that what Marion seri- ously did and said wore done and su!dfrom a sincerity at daggers drawn with sham. "And you'll never even ask him whyaa it's from?" Agnes exclaimed. "Never." `But you suspect"— "No (natter what I suspect." "And you'll never lot bim know you saw it and didn't open it?" "Never," "Dui this thing, Marion, will come be- tween you and him. ,It may ruin your future happiness." "'That can't be helped. If it's what I think it is" (her placid voice broke a little here), "then letting bim know would do mere harm than good." "But•perhaps it's the merest trifle, after all,'." said Agues, she herself now gener- ously turning consoler despite her own sor- rows, "some request for flnnneiai advice or a loan of money from some woman whom we both know." "Perhaps," returned Marion musingly. And thou it passed through her mind: "He would have told me if it had been that. Be tells Ire everything—or so till now I've believed." "Ah, good morning, Agnes," a voice suddenly said in the half open doorway. "Having a gossipy powwow with my wife, eh? You didn't expect to see me here at this hour, did you? You thought I was too touch of a poor, hardworking Wan street drudge, didn't you? And you war quite right. I am." "Trent," faltered Marion. She bad instantly seen that her husband was a trifle paler than usual, and that , some inward agitation, which he struggled to hide, controlled lihn. His eyes, wander - !ng quickly yet covertly about the room, lit on the overcoat. "Ah," he said, "It's bere." And then he caught the garment up and thrust a hand into one of its pockets. Meanwhile he was talking with speed and now ad- urossod his wife without looking at her. "'Tho fact ia, Marion, I remembered when halfaway down town in the elevated that I'd left an important business letter in this coat. Strayne has just told me that he forgot to take the coat up stairs— ,tupid fellow—so I hurried down stairs :again to get it— Ah, here's the letterI Went!" Marion saw, if her friend did not see, the gleam of a lilac tinted envelope as it a as swept into a breast pocket of the overcoat which adorned the parson of Mr. Trent Kingsland. And thou this gentleman, alittle flushed lfter his late pallor, said a few words of unial farewell to Agnes, made a few oeuyunt waves of the hand toward his wile and gracefully disappeared. The two women looked at one another in silence. "Marion," at length said Agnes' in a voice vibrant with feeling, "he came back to get that letter. And he was very con- qe,rued about it, was he not?" "Very." Agnes hastened to bar friend's side. 'Marion, do you mean that you'll never say a word to him even now?" 'No. I shall never say a word to bim even now." Agnes looked steadily at the floor as if in deep meditation. Then she naught one of Marion's bands in both her own. "But you will suffer." "Yes, I shall -suffer." "And—give—no--sign?" "And give no sign." Agnes stooped and kissed the band she was holding. After a slight interval she said somewhat brokenly, "Marion, 1—I don't thick I']l take he 8 o'clock train to Boston sifter all."—Edgar Fawcett in Col - Lee's Weekly. Cool on the Gallows. "The coolest man that over mounted a scaffold to be hanged was George Watson, who killed Captain Mentor about 25 years ago," said Detective Bill Balmer. "Wat- son seas hanged on the, old commons back of York street. When the cap was planed civet his head, he didn't say anything. The trap was sprung and the rope broke. Wat son was hauled back on the platform, and just before he swung off againhe said, 'Gentlemen, don't let that happen again.' " =-Cinoinnati Enquirer,