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When a Man’s Single. By J. M. Barrie. CHAPTER XV—Continued. An uneasy feeling possessed Dick that Mary knew of the misunderstand ing which kept Hob away, and possi bly even of her brother’s share in fos tering it. If so, she was too proud to <?nd it. He found that if he mentioned Hob to her she did not answer a word. Nell’s verbal experiments in the same 'direction met with a similar fate, and every one was glad when the colonel reappeared to take command. Colonel Abinger was only in London for a few days, being on his way to Glen Quharity, the tenant of which was already telegraphing him glorious figures about the grouse. Mary was going, too, and the Merediths were shortly to return to Silchester. “There is a Thrums man on this stair,” Dick said to his father one af ternoon in Frobisher’s Inn, “a partic ular friend of mine, though 1 have treated him villianously.” “Ah,” said the colonel, who had just -come up from the house-boat, “then .you might have him in and make your difference up. Perhaps he could give me some information about the shoot ing.” “Possibly,” Dick said: “but we have no difference to make uY>, because he thinks me as honest as himself. You have met him, I believe.” '“What did you say his name was?” “His name is Angus.” ■*T can’t recall any Angus.” ’‘Ah, you never knew him so well as Mary and I do.” “Mary?” asked the colonel, looking up quickly. “Yes,” said Dick. “Do you remem ber a man from a Silchester paper who was at the castle last Christmas?” “What!” cried the colonel, “an un derbred, poaching fellow who—” ‘“Not at all,” said Dick, “an excellent 'gentleman who is to make his mark here, and, as I have said, my very par ticular friend.” “That fellow turned up again,” groaned the colonel. “I have something more to toll you □f him,” continued Dick, remorselessly. “I have reason to believe, as we say on the press when hard up for copy, tliat he is in love with Mary.” The colonel sprang from his seat. '“Be calm,” said Dick. ■“J am calm,” cried the colonel, not saying another word, so fearful was be of what Dick might tell him next. “That would not perhaps so much matter,” Dick said, coming to rest at the back of a chair, “if it were not that Mary seems to have an equal re gard for him.” Colonel Abinger clutched the edge of the table, and it was not a look of . love he cast at Dick. •Yf this be true,” he exclaimed, his voice breaking in agitation. “I shall ■never forgive you, Richard, never. But .1 don’t believe it.” Dick felt sorry for his father. -“It is a fact that has to be faced,” be said, more gently. “Why, why, why, the man is a pau per!” “Not a bit of it,” said Dick. “He may be on the regular staff of the -Wire’ any day now.” '“You dare to look me in the face and 'Mell me you have encouraged this, •thl» — cried the colonel, choking in a rush of words. “Quite the contrary.” Dick said: *‘l ’have done more than I had any right to do to put an end to it.” “Then it is ended?” “I can’t say.” “It shall be ended,” shouted the col onel, making the table groan under his fist. •Tn a manner,” Dick said, “you are responsible for the whole affair. Do you remember when you were at Glen -Quharity two or three years ago ask ing a parson called Rorrison, father of •Borrlson, the war correspondent, to «se his son’s press influence on behalf of a Thrums man? Well. Angus is that man. Is it not strange how this lias come about?” “It is enough to make me hate my self.” replied the irate colonel, though It had not quite such an effect as that. When his father had subsided a lit tle, Dick told him of what had been ba pi>ening in England during the last month or two. There had been a change of government, but the chief event was the audacity of a plebian in casting his eyes on a patrician’s laughter. What are politics when the pipes in the bath room burst? “So you see.” Dick said, in conclu sion. “i have acted the part of the un relenting parent fairly well, and I don’t like it." “Had I l>een in your place.” replied the colonel. “I would have acted it a good deal better.” “You would have told Angus that you considered him. upon the whole, the meanest thing that crawls, and that if he came within a radius of five miles of your daughter you would have the law of him? Yes: but that sort of trespassing is not actionable nowadays; and. besides. I don’t know what Mary might have said.”- “Tresspassing!” echoed the’. colonel, *1 could have had the law of him for trespassing nearly a year ago.” “Yon mean the time you caught him fishing in the Dome? I only heard of that at second hand, but I have at least no doubt that he fished to some effect.” i “Be can fish.” admitted the colonel; “I should like to know what flies ho used.” Dick laughed. A “Angus.” he said, “is a a natural aptitude for does not. I suspect, even a He paused. “Yes,” said Dick. “Mary is the diffi culty. At present I can not even tell you what she is thinking of it all. Mary Is the one person I could never look in the face when I meditated an underhand action —I remember how that sense of honor of hers used to an noy me when I was a boy—-and so I have not studied her much of late.” “She shall marry Dowton.” said the colonel decisively. “It is probably a pity, but I don’t think she will,” replied Dick “Of course you will prevent her ma»wmg Angus by simply refusing your con sent.” “Yes: and I shall refuse it.” “Though it should break her heart, she will never complain.” said Dick: “but it does seem a little hard on Mary that we should mar her life rather than endure a disappointment ourselves.” “You don’t look at it in the proper light,” said the colonel, who. like persons, made the proper light him self: “in saving her from this man, we do her the greatest kindness in our power.” “Um.” said Dick, “of course. That was how I put it to myself; but just consider Angus calmly, and see what case we have against him.” “He is not a gentleman,” said the colonel. “He ought not to be, according to the proper light, but he is.” “Pshaw!” the colonel exclaimed, pet tishly. “He may have worked himself up into some sort of position, like oth er discontented mon of his class, but he never had a father.” “He says he had a very good one. Weigh him, if you like, against Dow ton, who is a good fellow in his way, but never, so far as I know, did an honest day’s work in his life. Dow ton’s whole existence has been devoted to pleasure seeking, while Angus has been climbing up ever since he was born, and with a heavy load on his back, too, most of the time. If he goes on as he is doing he will have both a good income and a good position shortly.” “Dowton’s position is made,” said the colonel. “Exactly.” said Dick, “and Angus is making his for himself. Whatever other distinction we draw between them is a selfish one. and I question if it does us much credit.” “I have no doubt,” said the colonel, “that Mary’s pride will make her see this matter as I do.” “It will at least make her sacrifice herself for our pride, if you insist on that.” Mary’s father loved her as he had lovc-d her mother, though he liked to have his own way with both of them. His voice broke a little as he an swered Dick. “You have a poor opinion of your father, my boy.” he said. “I think I would endure a good deal if Mary wore to be the happier for it.” Dick felt a little ashamed of him self. “Whatever I may say,” he an swered, “I have at least acted as much as you would have done your self. Forgive me. father.” The colonel looked up with a wan smile. “Let its talk of your affairs, rather, Richard.” he said. “I have at least nothing to say against Miss Meredith.” Dick moved uncomfortably in his chair, and then stood up. thinkning he heard a knock at the door. “Are you there. Abinger?” some one called out. “I have something very extraordinary to tell you.” Dick looked at his father, and hes itated. “It is Angus.” he said. “Let him in,” said the colonel. CHAPTER XVI. Tho Barber of Rotten Row. Rob started when he saw Mary’s father. “We have met before. Mr. Angus,” said the colonel, courteously. “Yes,” answered Rob, without a tremor: “at Dome Castle, was it not?” This was the Angus who had once been unable to salute anybody with out wondering what on earth he ought to say next. This was the colonel whose hand had erasppd five minutes before for Rob’s throat. Tho frown on the face of Mary’s father was only a protest against her lover’s improved ap test against her lover’s improved nn pearanep. Rob was no longer the hob bledehoy of last Christmas. He was rather particular about tho cut of his coat. He had forgotten that he was not a colonel’s social equal. In short, when he entered a room now he knew what to do with his hat. Their host saw the two men measuring each oth er. Dick never smiled, but sometimes his mouth twitched, as now. “You had something special to tell me. had you not?” he asked Rob. “Well,” Rob replied, with hesitation, “I have something for you in my ( rooms.” “Suppose my father —” began Dick, meaning to invite the colonel up stairs, but pausing as he saw Rob’s brows contract. The colonel saw, too, and resented it. No man likes to be left on the outskirts of a secret. “Run up yourself. Abinger.” Rob said, seating himself near Mary’s father: “and. stop, here are my keys. I locked it in.” “Why,” asked Dick, while his father also looked up. “have you some savage animal up there?” “No.” said Rob, “it is very tame.” Dick climbed the stair, after casting a quizzical look behind him. which meant that he wondered how long the colonel and Rob would last in a small room together. He unlocked the door of Rob’s chandlers more quickly than he opened it. for he had no notion of what might bo caged up inside, and as soon as ho had entered ho shopped, amazed. All men of course are amazed once in their lives —wf'en they can get a girl to look at them. This was Dick’s second time. It was the hour of the evening when another ten minutes can be stolen from the day by a readjustment of one’s window curtains. Rob’s blind, however, had given way in the cords and instead of being pulled up was twisted into triangles. Just sufficient light straggled through the window kto let Dick see the man who was Standing on the hearth-rug looking ■hllenly at his boots. There was a HhU of ell in the room. “Dowton!” Dick exclaimed; “what masquerade is this?” The other fellow put up his elbow, as if to ward off a blow, and then Dick opened the eyes of anger. “Oh,” he said, “it is you. is it?” They stood looking at each other in j silence. “Just stand there, my fine fellow,” 1 Dick said, “until I light the gas. I I must have a better look at you.” The stranger turned longing eyes cn the door as the light struck him. “Not a single step in that direction,” said Dick, “unless you want to go over ; the balusters.” Abinger came closer to the man who . was Sir Clement Dowton’s double. ! and looked him over. He wore a white linen jacket, and an apron to match. I and it would have been less easy to mistake him for a baronet aping the barber than it had been for the barber to ape the baronet. “Your name?” asked Dick. “Josephs,” the other mumbled. “You are a barber. I presume?” “I follow the profession of hair dressing.” replied Josephs, with his first show of spirit. Had Dick not possessed an Inscrut able face. Josephs would have known that his inquisitor was suffering from a sense of the ludicrous. Dick had just remembered his father was down stairs. “Well, Josephs. I shall have to hand you over to the police.” “I think not.” said Josephs, in his gentlemanly voice. “Why not?” asked Dick. “Because then it would all come out.” “What would all come out?” “The way your father was deceived. The society papers would make a great deal of it, and he would not like that.” Dick groaned, though the other did not hear him. “You read the society journals, Jo sephs?” “Rather!” said Josephs. “Perhaps you write for them?” Josephs did not say. “Well, how were you brought here?” Dick asked. “Your friend.” said Josephs, sulkily, “came into onr place of business in Southampton Row half an hour ago, and saw me. He insisted on bringing me here at once in a cab. I wanted to put on a black coat, but he would not hoar of it.” “Ah, then, I suppose you gave Mr. Angus the full confession of your roguery as you came along?” “He would not let me speak.” said Josephs. “He said it was no affair of his.” “No? Then you will be so good as to favor me with the pretty story.” Dick lit a cigar and seated himself. The sham baronet looked undecidedly at a chair. “Certainly not” said Dick, “you can stand.” Josephs told his tale demurely, oc casionally with a gleam of humor, and sometimes with a sigh. His am bition to be a gentleman, but with no desire to know the way. had come to him one day in his youth when an other gentleman flung a sixnence at him. In a moment Josephs saw what it was to belong to the upper circles. He hurried to a street corner to got his boots blackened, tossed the menial the six-pence, telling him to keep the change, and returned home in an ec stacy, penniless, but with an object in life. That object was to do it again. At the age of eighteen Josephs slaved merrily during the week, but had never any money by Monday morning. He was a gentleman every Saturday evening. Then lie lived: for the remainder of the week he was a barber. One of his delights at this pe riod was to have his hair cut at Triio fitt’s and complain that it was badly done. Having reproved his atendant in a gentlemanly way. he tipped him handsomely and retired in a glory. It was about this time that he joined a Conservative association. Soon afterwards Josephs was to be seen in Rotten Row. in elegant ap parel. hanging over the railing. He bowed and raised his hat to the ladies who took his fancy, and. though they did not respond, glowed with the sen sation of being practically a man of fashion. Then he returned to the shop. The years glided by, and Josephs discovered that he was perfectly con tent to remain a hair-dresser if he could be a gentleman now and again. Having supped once in a fashionable restaurant, he was satisfied for a fort night or so with a sausage and onions at home. Then the craving came back. He saved up for two months on one occasion and then took Saturday to Monday at Cookham. when he passed as Henry K. Talbot Devereux. He was known to the waiters and boat men there as the gentleman who had quite a pleasure in tossing them half crowns. and for a month afterwards he had sausage without onions. So i far this holiday had been the memory of his life. lie studied the manners and language of the gentlemen who came to the shop in which he was em ployed, and began to dream of a big thing annually. He had learned long ago that he was remarkably good looking. For a whole year Josephs abstained from being a gentleman except in the smallest way, for ho was burning to have a handle to his name, and feared that it could not be done at less than twenty pounds. His week’s holiday came, and found Josephs not. ready for it. HP had only twelve pounds. With a self-denial that was magnificent he crushed his aspirations, took only two days of delight at Brighton and contin ued to save vp for the title. Next summer saw him at Angler’s Retreat, i near Dome Castle. “Sir Clement Dowton.” was the name on his Glad i stone bag. A dozen times a day he looked at it till it frightened him, and then be tore the label off. Having done so. he put <n a fresh one. Josephs had selected his baronetcy with due care. Years previously he had been told that he looked like the twin-brother of Sir Clement Dowton. and cn inquiry he had learned that the ■ baronet was not’ in England. As for j the Angler’s Retreat, he went there • because he had heard that it was fre quented by persons in the rank of life I to which it was his Intention to be long for the next week. He had never i heard of Colonel Abinger until they met. The rest is known. Josephs dwelt on his residence at Dome Castle with his eyes shut, like a street Arab, lingering lovingly over the grating of a bakery. “Well, you are a very admirable rogue.” said Dick, when Josephs had brought his story to an end. “and though I shall never be proud again, your fluency excuses our blindness. Where did you pick it up?” The bar ber glowed with gratification. “It came naturally to rap.” he an swered. “I was intended for a gentle man. I dare say, now. I am about the only case on record of a man uho took to* pickles and French sauces the first time he tried them. Mushrooms were not an acquired taste with me, nor black coffee, nor caviare, nor li quors. and I enjoy celery with my cheese. What I liked best of all was the little round glasses you dip your fingers into when the dinner is fin ished. I dream of them still.” “You are burst up for the present, Josephs, I presume?” (To be continued.) TRANSVAAL STORIES. Boers’ Methods of Doing Business Are Entertaining To the Anglo- Saxon. In a small curve off the main road stands a long, low, galvanized iron building, with a broad stoop and an overhanging veranda. Behind it is a narrow stretch of cultivated land, hemmed in by a sod wall, and back of all a small cluster of young eucalyptus trees. The blazing sun beats down on the iron roof with a fierceness to which the galvanized sheets lend still greater intensity, and the blankets, clothing and other goods in the store still further aid’ The atmosphere in the shop can best be described by the remark made in the writer's hearing by an intelligent, but Irreligious, trav eler. that “ a man who could live in a Transvaal store would freeze to death in hell.” But the trader does not mind this; or if he does, he doesn’t say so. Dressed in trousers, light shoes and a flannel shirt, he reclines on a conve nient part of the counter, and with the aid of his pipe passes the time un til a customer arrives. Should the cus tomer be a white man, the storekeeper and he as a rule retire into the little side room for a few minutes, and a bottle and a couple of glasses will be produced. Should he. on the other hand, be a nigger, the trader glances at him casually, and, without moving, asks him what he wants. He does this because Kaffirs often want some thing which they know the storekeep er has not got. The Kaffir is gregar ious, and likes to have a chat, especial ly with a white man. When such is the case the trader can tell the nigger to be off, without disturbing himself in any way. This saves trouble. The shelves in the back <>f the shop are piled up with gaudy blankets, clothing of all descriptions, tinned goods, clocks and vases, cheap “jewelry” and vari ous other commodities. Below these shelves are the bins where the sugar, flour, meal, coffee, etc., are kept. On one side are the small shelves where the patent medicines stand. This is the most important branch in the Transvaal up-country trade, and the trader as a rule, acts as medical adviser to the whole neighborhood. The average Boer takes more medi cine than the worst hypochondriac in any other part of the world. This is owing to indigestion. The Boer is pa tient and long-suffering in some re spects. but when it comes to a case of sickness he is In a hurry. He wants to get right at once, and so he goes to the store, and, acting on the advice of the trader, buys a remedy. When he finds in a couple of days that the medicine has not cured him he Imme diately jumps to the conclusion that it is no good. He then, relying on his own judgment, buys some other medi cine, and starts in on that At the same time, if he gets a chance, he will jump a sample of something else to have a go at when he has got tired of the other: How on earth ho keeps alive is a mystery. It must be that the climate saves him. T can’t account for it in any other way. Outside the store, on the stoop, are the agricultural implements, plows, harrows, now American inventions of all sizes and descriptions that are too big or too heavy to bo carried away easily, and at all hours of the day. from enrlv morn until sunset, a nig ger attired in a soldier's old red coat, Is seated on one of those articles. Where this darky comes from is a puzzle. During a long acquaintance with the Transvaal I have never ar rived at a stem without encountering one of these objects on the stoop. In fact. I used to look for him. and one occasion won a substantial stake by betting with a companion that wo would find a Kaffir In a soldier’s coat at the first three stores wo arrived at. llp. of course, lost the bot, and be’ng a newcomer seemed sit first to think that I had some hand in having thoso people there, but he has long sine*- grown wiser, and knows bv this time that the “Soldier Kaffir” Is as much an adjunct of the Transvaal trading -tore as a ghost is of a r e spoetab’e English castle, the only difference be ing that the former Is much more m evidence. As the sun goes down and the evening closes in the storekeeper comes outside and watches the change, after which ho retires to his small bedroom, and his boy brings him his supner. Ho «ats this and then lights his nine and turns Into bed: an other half hour sees the light die out In his window, and the house given over tn sleep. At the first break of dawn he is awakened by the boy bringing him his coffee, and he then gets on. unlocks the doors, and pre pares for another day. It is not a chor fnl life, but to the mon who lead it has a strange fascination, and “once a Boer trader al wavs a Boer trader” is a stock saying In the Transvaal.—New i York Press. SMALL POXEPIDEMI HUNDREDS OF CASES OF THE DISEASp CLAY COUNTY. c Lost Eyesight Restored—-The Loogootee Boom--An Old C1aim—5353,145.90 Deficit in School Fnnds-s ta u Notes. ‘ e Serious Smallpox Epidemic. The western part of Indiana is facing the worst smallpox situation that any lo cality in the State has had to deal with ! since ISC3, reports Dr. Hurty, of the State Board of Health. Clay county is covered I with hundreds of cases of the disease, cases are reported from Sullivan andi Greene counties, and the prospects of its spreading are good. Last week a report was published in an Indianapolis paper • that several hundred cases of chicken-pox had broken out in Clay City. From the description given of the disease, Dr. Hurty concluded that the epidemic was smallpox, and he went Sunday to inves tigate. He had received no reports from the health officer of Clay City, and on his arrival was met by Dr. Modisitt, the health officer, who assured him that the epidemic was nothing but chicken-pox. Together they went to see Dr. Wolfe, who had charge of some of the cases. From the doctor’s description of the dis ease, Hurty was convinced that he was face to face with an epidemic of small pox, and started out to diagnose some of | the cases. He found that the epidemic had been raging since early in October, anA that hundreds of people in the town and surrounling country had been af flicted. There have been no deaths as yet, but many of the victims of the dis ease have been at death’s door, and as it has now reached the confluent form, fa talities may be looked for. Dr. Hurty found smallpox patients walking about the streets, people with the disease were attending a protracted meeting in one of the churches, and afflicted children were In school. Dr. Hurty reports that Dr. Wolfe himself had been afflicted with the disease in a mild form, but had never | given up his practice. By order of Dr. i Hurty, the schools were closed and the revival meetings at the church discontin ued. A theatrical performance was stopped Monday night, and man after man was sent home from the streets, suf- i fering from the disease. Every smallpox patient In the town will be rigidly quar antined. It is probable that people with! the disease had already left Clay City, : but none got out after Dr. Hurty’s ar-. rival. There was a stampede to leave town when it became known on his au- ' thorlty that smallpox really existed, but: care was taken that no patient got away. , Hn this column will appear from time to time portraits of * Th* Indians Man” typical—Hr of pastor present prominence in potitrcal, official and commercial life of our great ex:unon« Cougresiiuau Jeune Overstreet, of th« Seventh District. Lost Eyesight Restored, Scipio special: Wesley Mourey, aged aixty-seven, lives three miles north of this place. When a young man, in driv ing an ox team, he accidentally struck the lash of his whip in his right eye, causing a film to grow over the corner, which entirely obscured the sight. About five years ago, while raising his ax in driving a stake in the ground, a splinter ftew off the stake and struck him in the left eye, blinding it. The doctors could not restore his sight, and he had not the means to visit and secure the servic*. of an oculist. Finally, the people of Scxpio got up an entertainment for hts benefit, and succeeded in raising money enough to send him to Indianapolis. Dr. C. W. Phillips voluntarily accompanied h-m. They went to Dr. Thompson, who told him that the sight of his left eye was to tally destroyed, and that the cataract over the right eye adhered so closely that it would be a dangerous operation to un dertake to remove it. Mr. Mourey came home convinced that blindness would be his fate for life. Three months ago he was sitting on his chair with his feet on a low bench, his head resting on his cane. One foot slipped off the bench, and he started to fall. In tiying to balance hlm telf he jerked the cane in such a way that it scraped the ball of his right ey«x When he looked up he could see, but only ?or a few moments, the light being t»x> strong for the eye. He consulted a physi cian, who told him there was no film or covering over it—that the ball was clear | and all right. Since then his eye has gradually strengthened, so that now he ean see to go where he pleases and do some work. The I.nnCOOtoP Room Loogootee special: Activity in the Loo gootee oil field has taken on new life since the holidays. Persons who have been saying that the boom has played out, and that prospectors have abandoned the territory will have to take a rest. The Neeley OU Company, of Lima, O„ is hard “THE INDIANA MAN.” at work drilling a test we]], -n, tee Prospecting Company hasV ing on well No. 6, with new a !?' machinery. A new firm began" on the O’Brien farm, one town. They have two car had* ? ing machinery and two drill:-. to supervise the work. This that sold for $1,500 bonus and royalty. It is owned jointly by Argue Company, of Buffalo, y the Aiken and Ridgeway Oil Com Lima, O. Lessees are still scour’/* mediate vicinity for available - Sixteen new leases were placed o/ last Thursday. Tho supply of sai 3 ficient to afford the comforts of «J lights to the citizens of the to/ has not diminished in pressure. pecting Company's oil well 1 S a J producer, without the assistant/ pump. Two car loads of very of crude oil were shipped within week. An Old Settler’* Claim Jeffersonville special: The claim, by James Hillis, age elghty-fo/ live* near Kokomo, that he Is th* j native Hoosier, is not well founded Mary C. Pile, of this city, whose hfl was at one time mayor of Jeftenn was born March 18, 1812, which 1 make her 88 years old on her anniversary. In Jeffersonville was bom, reared, married and brow a large family. She has several, great-grandchildren, and there is u a legion of grandchildren. Once a? family reunion is held. Mrs. Pile is, preserved woman, a great reader, keeps up her interest in the topics( day. Mrs. Pile's father, whose nan Cunningham, was one of George R Clark’s soldiers. On her rr.aternsl Mrs. Pile is a great-great-niece of r Morris; of Revolutionary fame. Mx is one of the claimants to a vast si money stfll said to be due the hsj Robert Morris from the United States Mysterious Poisoning. Dillsboro special: Mrs. Sarah Col Mrs. Cora Jones and Jesse Jones, rfc of mysterious poisoning last week, out of danger, but Jones is in a dai ous condition. The physician says the symptoms are identical with thoi ptomaine poisoning, and that the pt was contained either In canned n* ries or in hogshead cheese. 9353>L45 OODeflc it In School f: ‘* According to the report of tb* Superintendent of Public Instruc’ January 1. there has been a $353,145.90 in school funds during . Governor and Attorney made an investigation and find has not been receiving the J- ' \ for liquor license fees. The government issued 7,170 retail censes in Indiana during and from these figures it I s the State should have received $lOO for each license. Only s3* ceived, leaving $340,000 una ( This sum, together with the - liquor licenses, which also age, is sufficient to make g"'’- j in the school fund. It 13 sa- „ ;j | prosecution of all violator- The next Legislature will amend the liquor laws of, ■•• J repetition of present con * roggan occur. Murder in Pik* Petersburg special: Th*re at Winslow, nine miles eity, last Saturday niffkt ‘ o f|K tended by William Riss a. ot Arthur. While B. were going homewa- * 0 cjd they met Frank Force!. ions, and there was an resulted in PurceU using - stantly killing Kiss by a 8 ; t y» eyes. The friends of j killing was unprovoked. lowed a query J J" know if the party was . bullet was fired when » frier-d* affirmative. PurceU and h jj placed under arrest, a. «<• against them was Inte^ f moved to acather coun-J