The Exeter Advocate, 1894-12-13, Page 71 Woman's. Crime.
KY AN na-aseatartva,
Published by permission 0 the ownersof the
Conyriebt.
tOONT/Ntraa.)
Lenore had but Dee desire, oee thought
—to vanish frora the world that had
known her, to lose her identity entirely,
She -wee not blind to the motive that ac-
tuated Mrs, Harris; the keen wit of that
lady seemed to react upon her protege ;
neither was she dazzled by the allure-
ments of the stage, as pictured by the
ballet mistress. But she SAW in such a
life the opportunity she sought, of losing
herself. No tale would dream of looking
for Lenora ,exrnyn upon the variety
stage. And she believed that she could
adopt that profession ea still be her best
self, Let Mrs. Harris rcap the benefit ;
what she wanted was safetyto herself.
Mrs, Harris was a tenacion$ woman,
ami her shrewdness had its weak points.
She we's hrowel to nearly every perform-
er in her particular branch of the pro.,
fession, ali•s. Barris was not a dramatic
actress and never Ilea been. Every per-
former in the city then, knew her, as they
knew imanagers, property men and bill
posters, and Mrs. Harris had a certain
pride. Lenore haa expreesed a wish to
be seen by no one, and Lenore would aot
come to the house of Mrs. Harris, to be
displayed to the friends of that lady as
her new pet and protege. Mrs. 13111.1iS
looked upon Lenore as a prize, and she
wished to display her as sueh.
"There's no earthly chance of any of
your people seeing you," argued Mrs.
Harris, "and it -will do you good to see
some of these people. I'm. ging to speak
for a box at R ----'s to -night, and you
must go with mo; no one will see you; we
will go in at the stage door; of course
no such a tbeater as you will act in.
I wouldn't allow you to act there, but
R— is an old friend. of mine, and I
want you to see the worst side of the
life." By which she meant that she
wanted to make the poor, half -paid,
hale starved, wholly -besotted actors at
R—'s stare in astonishment and won-
der "where Hurl . foiled a girl like
that."
Constant dropping will wow a stone,
For three days Mrs Harris harped upon
this theme, and at last Lenore, seeing
that the ballet mistrese was preparing to
be actually offended. if she did not eau.
sent., and feeliug that site, Lenore, could
'
ill
patronage i
jAh'stlteleleenehee,ornsn
eant the7: et xlo :one
solve.
41 pa,ny her to R—'s variety theatre.
Thi e put the ballet mistress in a rare
good humor, earl she lavished praise o.nd
advice in profusion.
"I'll tell you what you rause do," she
said eagerly. "This business all detesues
on your style. Now your style is good
but you dress too plain. You must dress
for effect. A_cropt some particular style
and stick to it. Now for you nothing
could be a ,bbier than a boy's cut-out,
have your hair cut short; it would curl
all over yoar head, wouldn't it 2—have a
toriyjaelot, double:breasted and all, like
a boy's. with a cute breast pucket and
bright buttons ; then get one of those
cute caps, just like a boy wears, only seal
skin; and. nay, wouldn't you be a stun-
ner ! Why, no one would know you for
the same girl!"
"De you think they would not ?"
"I know te ey would
Mrs. Haves bad not expected that Le-
nore would so readily adopt this advice,
andwhen the girl drew out herpurse and
counted out some money, she asked:
"What do you want?"
"Get me a jaeket and cap such as you
described, please; and—e ri you cut my
hair?"
"Do yoa really mean it ?" cried Mrs.
Harris. "Pll go right away and get the
things; but—it's a pity to out your hair,
after alt; jest cut the front, and coil the
rest .in top of your head loose; it's so
thiek and wavy, ib will du nicely that
way."
"Jest as you please," said Lenore, in-
differently.
"I'll get you a cute silk handkerehief
to stick in the side pocket," said the bal-
let mistress, rapturously. "Arid a sailor
.collar and tie fer your neck. III show
'ma !" This last, spoken after Mrs. Har-
ris was outside the door, was not intend-
ed for Lenore's benefit.
A 1 tele before the opening of the par-
formance at R—'s varieties—there was
no going up of the curtain because of the
absence of that ascending and. descend-
ing faseination from R 's stage—Mrs.
Barrie and a jetuita leaking young lady
entered one of the two stage boxes, that
were "boxes" in the enest sense of the
word; they were just high enough to
stand up in, and else wide enough ad
deep enough to hold four small wooden
chairs that might have come fr.m Mrs.
Harris' sanctum, so very uneasy were
they under a burden. This "box" was
fearfullyand wonderiully dirty, guilt-
less of paint, and odorous 'with tobacco,
brandy an beer.
The nose of the jaunty young lady- as •
eended perceptibly, seeing velaieh, les.
Harris FAA with a gay litge laugh:
"Oh! don't put on airs, child! ,I told
you thee you were not coming to a grand.
theater; this is no high-toned place, but
yotell see a first-rate performance, and
the people here think e deal of ine.
The climax brought a smile to the face
of the young lady, who readily under-
stood that Mrs, Harris chose to come here
where people would do her honor, rather
than sit an uareeognized guest at a first-
class entertainment. Spite of her re -
pregame@ for the low, dingy, dirty dive,
for saele it was, Lenore began to feel
,I( amused, and a trifle eurious, .
"After ally" she thottght bitterly, as
she peerea from behind the dingy curtain
of the box, ottt uaou the bare stage,
"after all, I have been in a worse place,"
thinking with a shudder of that day at
Gentlernam a Soirs,
Mrs. Harris darted, iu and mit at the
door, jabbering with any and every one
bellied the moms, and, after a, little, Le-
nore bereanto azeustomed to this. When
at last the performance eoramenced, Mrs,
Minis seated herself,prepared to enjoy
it, and encore everything,
"You must clap -Tour hands," she.wkist
perea to Lenore; if yon don't, they will
think you aro stuek 'del"
Smiling e, little at the idea, of being
considered "stuck WI by these ecopie,
Lenote deemed her hands in feeble emu -
bigot, of Mrs, Harris,
Thel stinal auditorium was tolerably
•W01113114 with rough lookieg men tot
the most part, who 'lounged aboa deal
tattles and drank muela beer, applaudtna
from time to time with the etout bottoms
of their glasses.
There was the usual "First Part," with
a allored individual at either end of a
half -circle, composed of the "strength of
the company;" and this was followed by
a young man with a very red, feet), who
danced. a "silver clog," to the entire sat-
isfaction of the audience. Then followed
young women, in soiled and metal abbre-
viated finery, who sang ballads and
comic Songs with cracked and tobacco
strangled yokes. Next, two lads, men-
trically dressed, who jabbered arid howled
in broken accents inteaded for the Ger-
man brogreee and kicked up their heels at
intervals, in a fearful and wonder-
ful manner. Next, a pretty- girl did
a 'Very creditable song and dance,
after which the youeg man who had
danced the silver clog, "did" a jig, and
afterwards a hornpipe. Following him
043320 a stoutish young lady, who an-
xtounced in a voice like a fishmonger,
aud with a fling of the heels, that she
was "Goodtfor-nothing Nan."
From time to greet as the performance
went on, Mrs. Harris, no doubt carried
away by her enthusiasm, drew back the
eurtain, so that Lenore, shrink as she
roight, was exposed to the view of those
on the stage and also of some person or
persons who sat behind the curtains of
the box opposite. This opposite box was
situated very near the dressing room of
the female performers, and from time to
time those ladies were seen flitting in
and out, but the gentleman within never
once permitted his face to be seen. Pres-
ently this personage turned the ladies
out with scant ceremony, and sent for
R— himself, •
"Who are those ladies opposite?" he
asked., abruptly, when the portly, red-
faced, beer•perfained manager made his
appearance.
R— recognized the stranger as one
who had spent money freely there on
one or two occasions, and he answered
affably:
"The old woman is a Mrs. Harris, old
stager, ballet mistress, and all thee, you
know. The other is some victim she has
picked up to fleece, I suppose; probably
the girl fancies that the old woman will
make her a fortune on the stage—that's
a hobby of Harris'."
"A hobby—or a pretext?"
"No; the woman is really stage -mad;
she has starved half her life trying to
hang to the tail of some snap company
or other. She will get a few girls to -
gather, and if a man will come along and.
show a little roll of money, off she goes
with the girls; she won't be left behind,
mind you."
"And—are you sure that this young
lady is in her hands?"
"I think she is. Harris told me, when
she came down to secure the box, that
she had a treasure, a regular beauty. and
that she was going to take her East and
bring her out in style. If she does, it
will be at someone's expense; she is as
poor as Lazaxas."
"Ah! will you teil me where this
Harris lives?"
R— hesitated. "I don't known, real-
ty," he said.
"Nonsense !" interrupted the other,
shortly, "of eourse you do. Look here,
R—, I'm willing to make it to your in-
terest to help me a little. Now, I am
ignorant of all theatrical business, but if I
wanted to play manager couldn't you put
me m the way of it. And if I say I will
give you twenty-five dollars to be placed
where I can get a fair view of that girl
when de leaves here, can't it be done?"
R— thought it could, and the two
men fell to talking very earnestly.
Meanwhile, over in the other box Le,
nore had been growing very nervous,
over the too frequent lifting of that
dingy curtain, and she was growing,
angry, too. She had expostulated mild-
ly, bue Mrs. Harris, who had been be-
hind the scenes and had there indulged
in a glass or two of beer, seemed to have
grown quite reckless. Finally the an-
noyance became unbearable and Le-
nore's wrath got the better Of her pru-
dence. Leaning forward, as Mrs. Harris
was about tctpull aside the curtain, she
laid a resolute hand upon it, and said
with a flash of the eyes that acted like a
small shower -bath upon the vivacious
ballet mistress.
"Madame, if you touch that curtain
again, 1 will leave this place instantly. I
will not allow you to exhibit me in this
vile place, so shamelessly. I very much
regret having come with you."
Mrs. Harris was not slow to perceive
that she had gone too far, and. that she
had overrated the influence she believed
she possessed. over Lenore.
"Why, I declare 1 how nervous you
are," she said, dropping the curtain;
"nobody can see you from the audience,
you sit so far back."
"Edo not wish to be stared at by those
stage people," replied. Lenore, coldly.
And Mrs. Harris did. not lift the curtain
again.
When they left the place there were no
street cars near, and Lenore expressed a
preference for walking, so they set oil
briskly. But they were not unobserved.
Scarcely had they emerged into the street
when a tall form came out of the dark-
ness and followed stealthily after them,
and behind this a second figure glided,
ami on the opposite side of the street a
third, and all three moving in the direc-
tion taken by Mrs. Harris and Lenore.
But the first person was a bungler, or he
did not understand the sharpness of Mrs.
Harris.
It was not an unusual thing for soli-
tary women to be followed so late at
eight, and the ballet mistress began to
think that she had displayed Lenore a lit-
tle too freely she did not want anything
to seem to alarm Lenore, and some of
those men might have seen her and strove
to follow. She began to be restless and
observant, and before she had reached the
street where Lenore lived she had discov-
ered that they were followed. She was
not aware of more than one shadow,
however.
"I'll tell you what," she said suddenly,
"1 have been thinking that we may as
well be cautious, Now, I don't suppose
any one, would follow us tc-night, but
sometime they might, and the sharper we
are the safer you will be. Now, you just
keep right on with ine and go in • my
house, I will let you out at the back
door and you can run straight throue,at
the alley and in at les. llornees back
door, and no oae will be the wiser.
"1 didn'tblOW there was a back alley,"
said Lenore.
"Well there it, and to one would ever
suspeet it. It's the safest thing in the
world. 'While you are supposed to be in
rrty honse you are away on the next street.
You bad bettet always go in and out, that
Way.. I will run through with am to-
night, so that you will get through
safety."
Perhaps the reader will conaeet this
blind alley between the two housee with
the Wonderful affinity between the for-
tune teller and the ballet, =stress, If
se, well—we all have a tight to our awn
;mentions.
meLenore availed herself of the blind al-
ley, and the three shadows saw her enter
gut house of the Whet Mistress.
"She does live there, and I will have
her in ray power before the sun sets,"
thought the Wet shedow.
"ITe has followed these two women;
then I, tom must watch them,'" thought
the second shadow.
elle believes he has fouad his game,
and. I must seeure it first. Waat themes -
chief is that other fellow dodging him
for ?" thought the third shadow, and
then the shadows followed Web ether
back to town,
CHAPTER XX*IIL —THE GENTLEMAN
FROM CUBA.
Lenore was not at all inclined to sleep
after her visit to R --'s varieties. Mrs,
Harris,iri spite of her caution, had set
her thinking. ' What if some one had
followed them! Where would. she go if
again compelled to flee ?
The fire was very low in her little wood
stove; she replenished it from the box,
that she perceived was nearly empty,
and sat down before it to think. TO
think of so many things. Nearly an
hour she sat thus, and thou she disoov-
ered that the room was growing chill. It
wae useless to try and sleep; she felt SS
if sleep bad forsaken her forever, So she
arose and put the last sticks of wood.upon
the smoldering coals—the very last. She
glanced down into the enapty box, and
something there caught her eye and held
her spell-bouud. In the bottom of the
box she has seen, an old newspaper, placed
there by some cleanly hand, and her eyes
are riveted to these startling headlines •
FLIGHT OP A BRIDE' ON 1TE1 'WED-
DING NIGHT, AND VIOLENT
DEATH OF THE BRIDE-
GROOM!
THE BRIDE BELIEVED TO HAVE BEEN THE
MURDERESS
Terrible Scene at the Residence of the
Murdered Man—Sad Fate of
Young Arteveldt !
How long does Lenore sit staring at
these terrible lines? She cannot tell,
then or after. But, after a time, she
snatches up the paper and reads every
word of the three or four closely printed
columns. She reads that Lenore Arroyn-
Arteveldt is accused of marcler. She
reads that a price is set upon lier head.
And then darkness comes over her, she
falls forward.; for the first time in her
life she has faulted.
For a long time she lies there, and she
will never be whiter or colder or quieter
wh.en dead. Then, slowly., shudderingly,
she comes bake to consciousness, and
slowly, relentlessly, the truth comes back
to her. By her side is the fatal paper
still. She ta,k e it in ber hand and sinks
wearily dawn again; she lies there pros
trate, feeling her misery, her forlornness,
her despair. But after a time the fierce,
brave blood flews back to her heart, and
she is Lenore Armyn once more.
"They want me 1" she says, scornfully;
they shall find me. I,willgotothsm,
and defy them, the fools, the blind—but
uo. I am. bound, bound ! bound! lean
not free tnyeelf from this charge at the
expense of a broken oath, an oath to the
dead. I will not, I dare not, 1must hide
like it criminal still. 1 must live a lie
now more than ever."
The fire had died out now, but she
never heeded that. She took up the
paper once more and reperused the full
and sensational aecaunt of her own wed-
ding, with all its horrible after results.
"That is what the detective wanted,"
she thought, sb udderingly ; "to arrest
me as a murderess! Well, I won't help
him to find me. make Harris take
me away immediately; fortunately, I am
not yet out of funds."
Never once did she give it regretful
thought to her raurdered husband; she
had not for him one thrill of pity.
The day that followed that night of
sleeplessness dawned upon a pale, stern-
faced girl, who could not even smile at
the lively sallies of Mrs. Horne, and who
sat at the breakfast table like a ghost at
a banquet. She had not closed her eyes
in sleep all that long night through; she
had been thinking and planning; she
must leave the city, and for the first
time she began to realize how very di -
atilt this task would be. And ya—taey
had searched for her three months, and
had not found her.
The day wore on, and Lenore began to
be anxious for the appearance of Mrs.
Barris; but that lady was very busy on
that particular morning. Atari unusual-
ly eerier hour she had received a caller of
an unusual sort. This visitor was a
gentleman., the same, by the way, that
had occupied the box opposite Mrs.
Harris at R—'s varieties, and his ap-
pearance made an instant and favorable
impa ssion upon the ballet mistress. He
was tall, and. what she called a "splendid
looking man," that is to say, he had
splendid white teeth, dark hair and
whiskers, bold black eyes and regular
features; he was a man of atleast thirty-
five dressed in the height of the fashion,
and wearing an abundance of costly
jewellery. His manner was polished and
graceful, and his address simply perfec-
fection. Lest the reader should mistake
this personage, who has not been do
scribed before, let him here be introduc-
ed,
MTS. Harris' visitor, acting a part as
instruated by Manager R—, for a con
sideration, is none other than Jason
Braclwardine. It will be remembered
that, according to the discoveries of Rob
Jocelyn'Bradwaxdine had seen Lenore
.Axneyn before she left Fairlie to pay that
fateful visit to Kate Seaton. But Lenore
had not goon him. All his observations
had been taken when the girl Was un-
oonseious of his proximity. Her visit to
the city was totally unexpected to him,
and he had been unable to find any clue
to her whereabouts, After a tirae he
found, that she had gone cityward, but
that was alb He had followed promptly
then, and had been seen, as we know, by
Rob Jocelyn, The detective had made
one mistake ; he had underrated the work
neeomplished by Bradwaedine'e private
inquirer, he had not disovsrsd itt forst,
that the man had found his prey, only to
let it eseime him. Tlarough his chanee
presence at the dive theater, Jason Brad
wardine had again stumbled upon Le-
nore, and, itt spite of her boy's hat old
sailor dollar, had recognized her. And
this time be did not mean to let her est
crape him. He was not aware of the two
shadows that had followed him oe he
previceue night, and neither hill or
Mrst. 0.arrIS Were conscious the, they
were under eortetatit surveillatte,e. Nay-
erthelese snoli was the °este the emend
pursuing shedow, of the night previous,
Who was n� less a persunage than the af-
fable Peterkin, or Ptantie Pertare, was
ever at his heels, while the third shadow,
ow friend Bob jocelyn, being more
thoroughly posted than was Perrarsthad
left Bradwardine to hie owe devices
knowiag well that said cleviees would
soma bring hien to the vieiaity of Mrs
Harris', and had contented ail/wolf with
looping a elose -watch upon the eorabags
and goings of the 'ballet mistress, with
what result we will know later.
Mr, Bradwardiae introduced himself to
the ballet ntistress as Senor Castro, a
Cuban. Re had recently bought a fine
theater in Havana, and had come to the
States for a company. Be was go:3e now
in the theatrical business, he frankly ad-
mitted, but he had his own ideas about it
theatereaad—he had the means to carry
out his ideas. He meant bo make his
theater the success of the South. He
wanted talent, of course, but—he wanted
talent allied to beauty. Ile wanted new
faces, and, if they were sufficiently at-
tractive, their ability would not ae mat-
ed in question. He had already engaged
many people, but there was yet some-
thing wanting. To he popular in the
South an actress should he blonds; me,
forturartely, his most charrnitag ladies
were pronounced brunettes; what he
wanted was a blonde lady who was keen -
witted, graceful and beautiful, and who
could be made a feature in some grand
"spectacles" he intended to produce upon
his stage. He did xiot care if the young
lady was a novice or not; she must be
beautiful, intelligent, and blonde. Such
a one he would pay raagnificently, and,
finally, could les. Harris put him in the
Way of finding such a, lady?
Mrs. Harms said she could if she chose,
and then began a skirmish of wits.
The gentleman from Cuba, in obedi-
ence to a hint from Manager. R--,
placed in the hand of the ballet mistress
a generous advance fee, and after a little
offered to take her to Cuba as mistress of
the -wardrobe.
Then Mrs. Harris told him of Lenore,
describing her in glowing terms and tak-
ing eaxe to state that she'Mrs. Harris,
had complete control over this paragon.
Finally the Cuban made her a maguifi-
cent offer for the services of herselt and
the young lady—provided she was as
charming as described—and Mrs. Harris
said that she would consider the xnatter ;
which meant that she would. see Lenore,
and if she could be beguiled into taking
this trip to Cuba they would go. Senor
Castro was to call at evening for his an-
swer, and if Mts. Harris had decided to
accept Lenore was to be then exhibited;
after which contracts would be signed,
the Cuban gentleman assuming control
of their movements forthwith, they to
draw salary from that hour and the
Senor to assume their expenses.
"I have taken a house, of which my
sister has eharge," said the Senor. "ib
is my purpose to assemble my people
there before starting South. If you ac-
cept ray offer I shall wish that yourself
and charge take rooms there immediate-
ly."
Mrs. Harris expressed herself satisfied
with this Arrangement and the gentle-
man from Cabe, took his leave. "He had
stayed too long already," he said, smil-
ingly, "and he had au appointment for
teeelve o'clock." Width was very true;
he had an appointment for that hour
with that useful personage, the widow
O'Neil.
Mrs. Harris closed the door after the
retreating form of her visitor, feeling. as
if the days of downy ease were again
dawning upon her.
"If I can only manage that girl," she
muttered, "and I think I can; it's time
now to try the frightening dodge."
But Mrs. Harris was agreeably disap-
pointed, Lenore listened with evident
interest to her rapeurous recital. Mrs.
Harris did not confine herself strietly to
the truth; she spoke of Senor Castro as
quite an old acquaintance, who had ap•
peered quite unexpectedly; and then told
of his great wealth, his splendid theatre
in. the South and last, of his "splendid
offer."
"What do you think of that?" she
said triumphantly. "Do you think we
cart do any better? do you think—"
"I think that you had better accept
it," said Lenore, quietly.
"Do you! Will you virally go?"
"I really will. The sooner the better.
When does this Senor—
"Senor Castro."
"When does Senor Castro come for our
answer
"This evening; and he will expect to
see you," replied the batlet mistress.
hugging herself in her delight. "When
will you be ready to go to his house,
where his company is to gather?"
"I will go at any time and I will meet
this man this evening. You are sure he
will take us?"
"Sure !" with it little laugh. " Yes, I
am sure."
Then the ballet mistress launched out
into a lecture neon the necessity for cer-
tain finery and " wardrobe" appurten-
ances, and Lenore listened with a preoc-
cupied air. She was to go away, far
away; that was settled; that was all she
cared. to know. Oh, if she need never
see or hear of this hateful city again.
A. little after two o'clock on that after-
noon a tall peanut veudor stood at the
corner nearest the shabby domicile of
Mrs. Harris; it did not look like a parti-
cularly good stand, but the man seemed
quite satisfied and smoked at a short,
black pipe with great apparent content,
as he plied his rather dull trade. Ile had
been in that vicinity all day, and he
looked as if he intended remaining there
for a week kbo come. But now a light
carriage, driven by a stylish -looking
young raan., came around the corner and
stopped before tbe vendor's cart.
"Give us it light, old fellow," said the
paring ramie, leaning forward, with an
unlighted cigar between his lips. Then
as the man appeoached the carriage to
comply with this request he said, in low,
quick tones:
"Pull out, Rob; I hold. the ropes and
your time is too preeinue to put in here.
Puil out, and trust the venid-up to the
widow O'Neil,''
camerae XaxxV.--A TIMELY ENCOtTNYER.
After warning Bob Yoeelyn to with-
draw from his post, Neil Bathurst drove
streight, to an obscure little hotel, where,
by a,ppoiament, he expected to meet Mr.
Durend. His businees was of a strange;
and delieate nature; but it was business
that could be DO longer negleated. He
found the old gentlemart alteady at the
rendezvous ; theya,t once took possession
of a snug little private rootlet mad Neil
opened the conversation by saying:
"Mx, Durand, it elan of my profession
thinks nothing seeing strange, no matter
how tuniseeel it may be. But you may
be—startleci by sons of the
things I ant about to say to yom If you
feel thee yeti een erasb rtte in this matter
Must beg that you will ask no geese
tions; desire to explanations ; and that
yea will answer the gtiestiens I shall ask
of you, fully and freely."
Mr. Durand lee/Wed graYely. "If I alla
to aSic no questions, Alla As I do not in
the least eoreprehead your meaning,"
be said, "1 een only beg that yea will
ProorSed with whatever you have in hand
le. Bathurst."
"1 will, replied the detective,
drawieg up his chatm "Xy time is luxe
ited ; I can waste none of it. First. thee,
how long slime Miss Amain ceased. to be
an Menai) of yoer house?"
Miss Annan I" in marked surprise,
"she left, let me see, nearly three
months ago; before Aura went to New
York."
"Miss Durand bas visited New York,
then?"
"Yes; sbe went with the Wendells;
was gone some seven or eight weeks."
"Alt! Aud how long slime Mis. Dar-
and's health became delicate ?"
"Mrs. Dtuand? Let me see; she had
a severe cold a week or more bel re Aura
came back, and since then has not ral-
lied as I could wish."
• "No I" la a constrained voice; "Mr.
Durand, you must take your wife away
from the city immediately."
"Indeed! And why ?"
`Because she will riot live two months
longer—with her present surroundings."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean this: Your wife is being
slowly poisoned !"
Mr, Durand's face became ghastly.
"Yon are mistaken," he said, "you must
be; such it thing is simply impossible I"
"Listen, Mr. Durand. When yeti go
from this place I want you to go straight
to the doctor you consider most skilled,
and ask him to analyze for you the con-
tent.; of this phial," taking a small bot-
tle from hie pocket and holdieg it toward
Mr. Duane. "Taen I relit you. to take
that man to see your wife, and ask for
his candid judgment. When yoa have
hear i that, you will be more than ready
to accept my advice. And then I shall
have more to say to you."
"Where did you get that phial?" fair-
ly gasped the old gentleman.
"I took it from the stand near your
wife's c tech the day I called upon her,
sir. Will you have it examined?"
"Most certainly I will! It's past my
erubPtab
reheonuclit :raat
g. But
ikeblIeattis;f
't have
t asas
d
you say, where is the galley one?"
"Leave the guilty one to me, sir.
When I have convinced you of the truth
concerning your wife, then we will talk
about this other matter."
"You have convinced me that you
harbor a grave suspicion, and a strange
one, sir; and—I want to hear all that
you have to say now," said. Mr. Durand,
with suddeu resolution. "Tell me what
you propose to do, and then. I -will go
straight to a physician. By the way,
how came you to suspect anything of
this sort, and to ste.al my -wife's meda
eine ?"
"1 borrowed your wife's '
medicine le.
Darand," answered the detective with a
grave smile; "and my eyes told me that
Mrs. Durand's life was being tampered
with. I have had considerable experi-
ence in poisoning cases, and I recognized
the symptoms as described by ales
Durand."
"Good heavens! I shall take this im-
mediately to Doctor Worthing."
"No! don't go to him. Mr. Durand,"
said the detective, gravely.
"Why not?" sharply.
"Bees-use—that bottle has just return-
ed from Doctor Worthing's hands."
"What!"
"I have had it examined by him; I
would not put such a grave matter be
'fore yen until I had made assurance
doubly sure."
"And he said—what?"
No BE CONTENUED.1
A FAMOUS BIINCO-STEERER.
This One Was a Steer Used at the Chi-
cago Stockyards to Lure Cattle to
Death.
Dick, the bunco steer at Phil Armour's
yards, got too lazy for his job and was
led to the slaughtering pees just like the
animals he had deecyed to death before.
The deceitful old beast is dressed beef
now.
Dick was a big, fat, brown steer that
had. winning ways and a cold, treaeher-
ous heart. Many and many are the con-
fiding country yearlings and heifers nick
has led up to the butcher' stunning steel
hammer. Probably there never was a
beef "critter " that had so wide a cele-
brity as Dick. That was the name they
gave the steer that lured the other cattle
up to the killing beds in Armour's.
Every visitor who went to see how the
packing houses work had a look at this
steer. Foreign, ministers and pretty
summer girls have marveled at the skill
and diplomacy with which he steoreathe
unsuspicious range cattle to the place of
death. Dick's picture has been printed.
in the papers many a time and. Wen:tits
have beeu written about the beast's crafty
tricks. Diek was just as much CMS of the
sights of the tOW32 as the Masonic Tem-
ple, or the Lake Shore drive orPolicemen
Steve Rowan.
This is the way the creature got its
notoriety': When the long -hems from
Texas and the shorthorns from Missouri
come into the stockyards and are un-
loaded they are naturally exasperated
over their rough trip and are full of sus-
picion. The result is they are rebellious,
espeeially in the matter of going into
chutes. Now, unless a steer goes into
one of the chutes in th.e peeking house it
cannot have its throat eutt and throat -
cutting is the aim and object of their
coming to Chicago. So it is necessary to
have a decoy steer, it crafty old beast,
that can get the confidence of the rural
beasts road lure them on to death and de-
struction.
Many years ageaDick arrived at the
yards, and being a beast of more than
usually sagacious appearance, was piek-
ed oat for the work. Dick was carefully
trained in the art of walking up a ehute
tar the head of a bunch of cattle and then
quietly dodging to one side, leameg the
bunch to walk on to the place where the
hammers swing. After years of practiee
the big steer had grown expert at his
treacherous work, Dick would saunter
down to a pen full of ttew and unsophis-
ticated eattle and scrape an acquaintance
with two or three of therm Then the
wiekcia brute would. begirt to look wise
and, teak knowingly about the racy sights
to be seen in the big white hortse ova
beyond the fence. When Dick offetea
to lead the way there was it grand same
wide to follow. lap the, gangway -went
Diek and abet him clattered -the green-
horns. Bat just, bttforti the lettneh got a
sight of the big butehers waiting itiside
Dick would unostentatiously shy off
through it side passage and lea-ve hisaie-
tim to tratiseett beeriness with Mr, Ar-
mour's mom
So Diek grew famous. Bet like mealy
other farnotte diameters be grew puffed
tip with pride, got lazy and began to
N.raW.
"lay down on the job.' It got to be so
easy, this thing of leading wide-eyed cat-
tle ttp into the chute, thee Diele didn't
seem to care whether be werextd for his
feed or not. Mr. Armour grew clisplexteeel
with this apathy, He does pot like to
have leis employees; loaf on their jobs. Po
orders were issued concerning Dick. One
day last week the wise old rogue was
leading the usual beech up the gag
way, but when he got to the ustia
jumping-off place there was none there.
Dick had to go on with the herd. Before
Long he had been eoeverted into dressed
beef. Now that Dick has stiffen d tee
same fate as his thousands of dupes his
work all devolves: on his former partner,
kaowa to the butchers as Phil, •
THE STAR Oil' BELERP11f.
Probably It Was 17enns at Its Most Dili -
Uncut Stage,
Some time ago various newspapers if
Europe ancl America contained the start-
ling intelligence that the star which
guided the 'Wise Men." would again ap-
lear. Tilts star was coneceted with that
celebrated one which 318 years ago sud-
denly disappeared from the constellation,
of Cassiopeia, and it was failed that this
star of 1572 had previously appeared Le
the years 126e and 944, and if countecl
bade must ha,ve appeared in, the year ef
the birth of amen If these facts were
well established we must certainly expeee
the star to appear again in our days, We
should theta see a 32OW body in our heav-
ens, entirely unlike any filed star, to be
seen in full daylight, whieh would in a
short turas again disappear. Every as-
tronomer in recent tiraes has asked hun-
dreds of questions on the subjeet, Is it
true that the Star of Bethlehem will
again appear? Is it periodical? Is its
Rime in, the sky appointed? The next
question is, What really happened in
1572?
It was a few months after St. Bartholo-
mew's night. Tycho Brake, the great
observer of those days, tells us that:
One evening, as I was watching the
heavens 'in nay accustomed manner, I
saw to ray great astonishment in the con-
stellation Cassiopeia a brilliant star of
unusual e/earness." This was on 'Novem-
ber 11, 1572. Three days before the star
had been seen by Centerline Gemma, who
spoke of it as "this newVenus." In De-
cember of the same year its lustre began
to wane.land in March,1574, it had en-
tirely disappeared, teaving no trace. As
to stars of 945 and 1264 are heve no an-
thority except that of the Bohemian as-
trologer, Cyprian Low-itz. No historian
mentions them, and the Chinese axon-
iclers, who watched all appearances itt
the sky with great care, do not speak of
them. Even granting the appearance of
these seas to eave been a lace their re-
semblance to the Star of 33ethiehera is
doubtful. It is true that by counting
back we come to the year 68 e 815 mail();
but the star should have again appeared
some time between 1880 and 1891.
With regard to the Star of Beth.lehene
there are five assumption,: (1) It had no
existence, and the entire steteraent is a
beautiful oriental fairy tale. (2) The
fixed star seen by the Wise elen was
Venus at the time of its greatest splen-
dor. (3) It was a per/ode:al star like
that of 1572. (4) The phenomen was
occasioned by to anti:motion of planets.
(5) It was it comet. ai these assumptions
the most probable is ti e s concl, That it
was a periodical star i$ ecarcely likely,
for Ptolemy and MatuaL.-lin NI odd. have
spoken of it. The four.b. stetenteat was
suggested in 1826 by the German astron-
omer Ideler and repeated by Eneke in
1831. In the year 3, B.C. there were
conjunctions of t/ae planets B.O.,
and Saturn on May 29, September 3 anti
December 5, but on none of these days
were the planets nearer together than a
degree. so that the 'Wise Men must have
beett very near-sighted to take them for
one star. The fifth assumption is also
not to be considered, for people already
knew how to distinguish it comet from
other stars, and besides, we have no
knowledge of a. comet at that tlme. For
all these reasons we ba -vs not the least
occasion to expect the returu of the Star
of Bethlehem at the dose of our century
And even if such a etar should appear, it
would simply be the 26th such case ob-
served in historical times and the inter- *
est attached to it world. be purely as-
tronomical..
A Test of Character.
Axi eleetion is sometimes spoken of as
a test of eharaeter. Certairdy a man
who cari run the gauntlet and come out
miscalled in reputation must have it
straight record. The unfairness of the
election test lies in the fact that it is the
bad qualities of the candidates rather
then both. their bad and mood gnalitiet
that are held up. each kinds of tests are
elevating neithento the public nor to the
ordinery political life.
The writer a,hvays liked the reply of
an old datitey who was -unfortuirately
seam -teed to imprisoran exi t by the police
justice for some petty offense.
"Well, Sarabo," said OD e who atttmpt-
ed to console him, "adversity tries us and
develops our better qualities "
" 'Twan't dat away at all add me,
replied Sambo lugubriosly, "It wasn't
adwersity what tried me, sah, but it ole
fool jedge and he dewelopea alt oh my
bad qualities end none ob my good ones.
The Nan With the Iron Mask.
The mystery of the man with the iron
mask, imprisoned at Pigneroi in the time
of Louis XIV., has tempted the ingenu-
ity of a hundred writers hare the Pere
Griffet and Voltaire to it. Fueek-Breu-
tan°, who writes ln tho Revue Historique
that the famous victim was Mattioli,
secretary of state to the, Duke of Mantua,
Charles IV.
M. Funek-Brentano elimbaates Dumas'
romanee about 8, brother of Louis XIV,
the Comte de Verrowelois'the Duke of
Monniouth, the Duke of Beaufort, the
Count of Kerottalze, Nicholas Fouquety
the Armenian patriarch, Avelik ; Olden-
derf, end Mellen) to adopt Mattioli. But
Mattioli died at sixty-three yews of age,
and the aoeument upon which M. Funek-
Brentetno's ease rests tive$ forty-five as
the year of his age at his death.
Paul Lacroix, more than sixty yews
ago, exhausted all the resources of the
levied, which had perhaps little formtlet
tem in fad, The irou mask, if mesk
there was, was amide of velvet, Lat.:rola
saas.
It is it wen known feet that jurtiper
flowers do riot perfect their seeds for two
yeere—consequeetly tle-are ere blue and
g.reen berries on the pi exits at the Wane;
but Mr. Jacky. in the Botanieel Geeette,
'believesit
that taltes three yews for ber-
rieS to porfeet, Tho red ceaary whish is
mother kind Of juniper. however, pet -
feet% seed the same erne)... It is emeterkt
able that so much diversity shotad egiet
ninong plente so cloeely