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1 1 i The gypsies had discovered the dead man's, body and pell-mell they began to swarm about those they believed to be his assassins. Haggard, in the weird light, their figures in phantom shapes, they pressed on, searching every nook and cranny with the naked blade of sword and scimitar, wailing their dole ful lament and encouraging one an other to the pursuit. Nor had Gavin any belief that he could escape them. Called by the peril from the unnat ural trance which had {alien upon him, he swung round upon his heel as tho to protect his friend whose life he had thus jeopardized but in his heart he believed that nothing could save them. This was the moment when the upper most penalty of folly must be paid. It found him ready with a dogged cour age, but lacking all ideas exeept that supreme determination to fight for his life' to the end. "Give me the bludgeon, ArthurI am the stronger." "Don't think of thatthere's some thing left in my locker still. Side by side, eld chap, unto the end. What lnck! We'd have been across the bridge in another ten seconds." "Some of them are going to remem ber us anyway. Stand close to me, Arthurit won't be long now." Indeed one of the gypsies discovered him as he spoke and with a loud cry to the others made known his news. The horde swept on with the ferocity of wolves. Knives jflearning, eyes bright in the darkness, some voices cursing, some howling in brntish an ger, they came pell-mell toward the gate. And then, as suddenly, they halt ed and a silence as of the dead of night fell upon the house. Some one upon the mountain road without had fired a rifle. The report of it, echoing in the lonely hills, was like a sharp peal of thunder, rattling from peak to peak with monstrous sounds near by and low rumblings far away. To the gypsies it spoke a mes sage whieh they alone understood. They stood altogether, shivering and gibber ing in the darkness. Their muttered words were unintelligible to Gavin. Beyond the sound of the rifle shot he could hear nothing-^-or when the silence was broken again, it was by the tongue of wolves indescribably haunt ing and long drawn as a dirge of woe. "There is some one on the mountain road and they are afraid of him," he said quickly to Kenyon. The idea of profit to come by the truce occurred to him in the same breath and, crying loudly, again he bade the doorkeeper to open. "Open, open!" Twenty voices took up the cry. The gypsies vied with each other in shouting the summons. For they understood the signal. The rope was ^bout their necks, they said. The last chance was to open the gate to their prisoners. When the doorkeeper hesitated, trembling and afraid, they stabbed him to the heart and he rolled headlong to the foot of the bridge near by which his life had been lived. But Gavin and Arthur Kenyon passed out to the mountain road, and looking down to the valley they perceived the flame of bivouac fires in the wood be low and they understood immediately that cavalry had been sent from Buk harest to their aid and that the hour of their peril had passed. CHAPTER XXX1M Djala. Evelyn recovered consciousness after that which seemed a very night of evil dreaming, but which was in reality no more than a brief half hour of insensi bility. Greatly weakened by the strug gle and the swoon attending it, she lay for some while unable to lift herself upon the bed where they had laid her, or to take any notice of the room to which she had been carried. When her strength returned somewhat, and a sud den memory of the circumstances of her visit recurred to her, she sat up im mediately, a great fear at her heart and a dread uponther such as she had never suffered before. What house wap itf Who was its owner? What wal the meaning of the insult placed upon! her? The questions raced thru her bfain so quickly that she found an answer to none of them. At one time she could almost believe that her own father was privy to the outrage and had led to this desperate course by his detestation of the role she played in London. Rejecting this immediately because of her love for him, she was then tempted to say that Odin relied upon his threats and be lieved that she would submit to him to save Gavin's life. This appeared the more plausible story. Was not the man from the east a Rumanian, with but primitive ideas of a modern civiliza tion, and the son of a country wherein women were still little better than the silent victims of men's passions? Per haps he believed that he could carry her out of England. It might be even that. She was in a spacious bedroom, fur nished, so 'far as the dim light would permit her to see, in a modern style and with many evidences of later-day lux ury. A fresh fire, burning with a light flame in an open grate, cast flashing rays upon darkly-napered walls and the heavy pictures which ornamented them. A sofa had been drawn up before the fire and showed its pattern in the fitful beams there was an electrie chandelier above a dressing-table and a single' reading lamp upon a little table by the bedside. Afraid of the darkness i a ft Thursday, August 2, 1906. THE MINNEAPOLIS JOURNAL. degree unknown to her, Evelyn tried to find the switeh by which the lamp might be lighted but her cold hands bungled it and, despairing, she rose from the bed and crossed the room to ward the heavily-curtained window. Was escape to be thought oft In sober reason, no but sober reason says nothing to a woman driven by the su preme dread of wrong and guarding her courage even while she is afraid. Evelvn knew in her own mind that so shrewd and daring a schemer as Count Odin would leave her no loophole, neg lect no precaution, nor spare any insult by which his own safety might be as sured. She knew it and yet must go to the window and draw the curtains back and touch the heavy shutters and feel .her heart sink when she came to see that they were twice barred and that no woman's hand could open them. De spair alone could have led her to be lieve that the count would be so foolish but despair did not mock her twice and she left the door untried lest she should brand her own intelligence with con tempt. Let it be sufficient that she was the prisoner of the house, far from any human aid, alone with her own cour age for her friend. She admitted it and sank down upon the sofa, to stretch her hands to the warming blaze, and to breathe that simple prayer to God for aid which is the supreme pathos of womanhood. The night was silent without the silence of midwinter the fire biased as tho in enmity to the cold of the early morning hours. Evelyn had no watch, nor did she know what hour it might be. When a distant bell chimed, she caught a faint sound upon the still air, but it told her nothing. And with the passing hours there came upon her a desperation she could not master a de sire to kill this man who had so affront ed her, to brave him at whatever cost, even if it were to die at his feet. Etta Romney lived again in this, the Etta of the east, the ehild of the mountains which knew few laws but those of might. She was her mother's daughter now the voice of, heritage spoke, and she would not still it. The distant church clock chimed again and she counted three strokes npon its bells. It was 3 o'clock in the morning, then, and another four hours must pass before dawn came. Or would it ever come in that shuttered and cur tained room which she must call her prison? Sometimes she could have wished that the count would* throw down the challenge to her and that she might answer him there and then. Sus pense as ever tortured her nerves but her ease also contributed to the vic tory of reason. For Gavin 'B sake the evil in her heart must die, she said. She must act not only as a brave wom an but as a wise one. Moreover, her true' self, beginning to speak, reminded her that there would be an outcry thru all London tomorrow, and that such a man as Count Odin would never face the publicity of it his one sure weapon was his threat against her lover. At this she cowed and knew that her heart had grown cold again. Could she, indeed, save Gavin by a word? Had she believed it she would have spoken that woid, so greatly did she love. But she did not believe it. Her#faith in a brave man's resolution, in his daring and success, remained un shaken. Gavin might even come to this house, she thought and dreamingly she sat very still by the fireside and lis tened for the sound of his footstep. A profound silence followed upon the foolish act. When next she moved it was with agitation and a sudden spasm of fear she could not quell. She was no longer alone in the room. How she had come to believe herself so she could not even imagine. Out of the darkness a pair of jet black eyes were looking up to her own. The wav ering firelight becoming stronger as the coal reddened and burst into brighter flame, showed her the huddled figure of a young girl crouching by the grate and watching her so intently that the very glance seemed a tragedy. "Diala 1 she cried in spite of her self"Dtfala, the gypsy girl!" She knew it was no other and her fear passed with the knowledge. Many a day had she seen this child with the gypsies who had followed the count to England. That she should be in this house at such a time was the greater mystery. Evelyn knew not whethei the omen'were good or bad. "Why do you not speak to me?" she said "why are you silent?" The gypsy started up as tho the sound of a .voice had waked her also from reverie. Bxcelleney," she answered, speak ing/m such broken English that Eve lyn caught her meaning with difficulty excellency, I wait for my brother and then we will go away." "Who are you, childhow did yon come here?" I am Zallony's daughter, excellen cymy brother brought me across the sea from my oWn country." ""Yes, yes, yon were in Derbyshire at my father's house. When did yon leave there, child?" A month ago, 'excellency. My brother came to London. We had little money and were poo The count would follow us, he said. So we waited, but tbJhre was no message. Excellency, he Should not have treated us so ill, for he was my lover and owes it to me*. He should have come to us, excellen cy and then I would not nave told them. God help him now, for my brother will kill him. Yes, I followed him here, but none knew of it. And tonight I told them the truth. i- +J&* J*" Excellency, had you not come here I never would have told them but I have loved him and he has for gotten, and I must go back to my own country alone and ashamed." She spoke in such a low tone, the childish eyes were so wide open, the heart beating so rapidly beneath the fine lace whieh covered her breast, that one who knew nothing of her eastern birth or of all that the love of a man meant to her, might well have believed her story a hysterical fiction and turned from it with just impatience. To Eve lyn, however, it spoke of danger as no other word of all that evil night had done. The peril of the house, the ven geance whieh might fall upon itthe price of the betrayal, her own silence when a word might save a man from the penalty of his sinsthis all flashed thru her troubled brain and left her with a new sense of helplessness and surpassing dismay. "How did you- come here how did you enter this room?" she asked quickly. "Molines, my uncle, who brought you herehe keeps the keys, excellency." "Then he let you inhe knows of your being here?" He knows, excellency, and is afraid. We must save the English lady, he said. That is why he sent me to you." I must see your uncle at once, Djala. I must tell the count. What you speak of is a great crime. Let us make them hear us. Oh, my God, we cannot be silent." The doubt and suspense of it all be came overwhelming and she stood grop ing in the dim light for the doorway and beating upon it with both her hands. No one, however, answered her. The little gypsy crouching by the fire seemed afraid to move or to speak. The silence of the house remained unbrok en. Evelyn turned away in such de spair as seemed to her scarcely human. "When is your brother coming here?" she asked the child. Diala answered without looking up. I do not know, but he will come, excellency and he will speak for me to the count. Yes, and then The words were stilled upon her lips and she sat up to listen. A sound of men's voices suddenly made itself au dible in the room below. The gypsy heard it first and spoke no more or her vengeance. "That is my brother's voice," she saidand then, realizing what she had done, she caught at Evelyn's dress with both her hands and implored her pity. "Save him, excellency, for Christ's dear sake, save the man I love," she implored. I cannot save him, Djalaam I not as heirless as you? I cannot gave him." They waited together, hand in hand, listening to the story which the voices told them. Now it would be to the voice of argument, then to that of en treaty, ultimately to the swift inter change of phrase which spoke of an {jer. When the duolog ceased, the si ence had greater terrors of doubt than any they had yet suffered. What had happened, then? Why did none come to them? They could but hope that reason had prevailed. "Let us light a lamp, excellency I am afraid of the dark." I cannot do it, Djala. I eannot find the switch." "Let us try together, excellency how your hands tremble! And mine are cold, so cold. L^t us try to find the light." Thev felt along the wall, gathering courage from their occupation. The main switch was,upon the landing out side the door, but they found the plug of the bedside lamp and managed to fix it, getting for their reward a little aureole of light, upon the bed and greater shadows upon the further walls. That, however, which pleased them bet ter was a green silken bell rope hang ing down by the bedside and revealed now by the lamp. Evelyn took the cord in both her hands and pulled it thrice. But no bell rang. "It is broken, Djala they did not mean us to ring ithushlistenthey are talking againthat is the count's voice She caught the child's hand imjpul sivelv and drew her to the doof as tho it would help them to hear the voices more plainly. The controversy below had been resumed suddenly and with a bare preface of civil words. Loud above the other the count's voice could be heard in threatening expostu lation. It ceased upon a haunting cry liigering, horrible, and to be heard by the imagination long after it had died away. Dials, did not speak when she heard the cry she seemed as one transfixed by. terror, unable to move from the place and afraid to learn the truth. Presently low sobs escaped her she be came hysterical and sank at Evelyn's feet, moaning and trembling. "They have lulled him, excellency oh, my God, my God!" Evelyn could answer nothing. Stoop ing, she lifted the fainting girl and laid her upon the bed. While she was not less afraid or distressed than the gypsy, this nearer danger had quickened her 'faculties and awakened her to action. Once more, tho the act seemed folly, she caught at the silken bell rope and pulled it with all her strength. The answer was a jarring tintinnabulation hoard clearly in the silence. She stood to listen and knew that footsteps were approaching the landing. Then the key turned in the lock and a man, whom she had seen before, a Tzigany beyond all question, entered without ceremony. "Lady," he said in broken English, "come with meyou must leave this house.'' I will not go until I know the truth I cannot leave the ehild," she said, pointing to Djala. "There are those who will care for her. As for the truth it is a man's quarrel. They will be friends tomorrow, lady. Obey me and go quickly.*' I will not leave the child," she protestednot knowing whether his story were false or true and fearing greatly. For answer, he took her by the arm menacingly and drew her toward the door. "Go before ill befall you. The child is our daughter. Are we of the people who do not care for their own chil dren? Go, lest worse follow! The man will liveI, Molines, say it." The words found her without argu ment. This ehild had been with the gypsies at the Manor. What harm would befall her if she remained with them here? And it was no time for woman's Jer ity. The story of the house lay npon as a heavy shadow. She had the desire to flee fas from it to blot it out of her dreams to forget its hu miliations to escape its darkness. A voice called her to the way of salva tion and she went with the gypsy. "The carriage will take you as you came," he said "ask no questions, lady do not betray us if you value your life and that of another. That which has happened in this house to night will never be known to the world. Seek not the story, for it is not yours to seek." She had no rejoinder for him. There were lamps still alight in the hall as they descended the staircase and the door of a room upon the rigtH-hand side was a little way open. Evelyn half believed that she saw the body of a man lying upon the table there as she passed swiftly by but the door closed immediately and the gypsy hur ried her from the house. "Remember," he said, "be silent it is your only hope, lady." She shuddered and drew away from him. The electric brougham which had carried her from the theater now rolled slowly up the drive. She entered it without a word and so was driven swiftly away. CHAPTER nviu The Shadow of the River. 3 2r It wanted an hour of dawn when Evelyn quitted the lonely house. She had given no in structions to the driver, nor did he appear to expect any. In truth, his orders were very far from being in accordance with the old gipsy's promise. A deed of blood had, been done and the daylight would discover It. The woman who could tell something of the story wouldten it at once if liberty were given her. So said those who entrapped her and, desiring to withhold liberty as long as might be, they sent the carriage westward, away toward Har row and the villages. Evelyn herself did not suspect this, nor wouM It have alarmed her had she done so As ona awakened from a dream of death, she tried to shut the picture of the house from her heavy eyes, to drown the cries she had beard, to for get the humiliations. Dark and lonely as the way was, the Mack shapes of the trees seemed emblems of her liberty the silent houses so many tokens of the world regained. She cared not where or why, so long as she might breathe the sweet air and tell herself that God's mercy had saved her. For Gavin would she liveher whole Ufa should be spent hi quest of the man she loved, of oae who uotmrd to call ber even from the darkness. And for Gavin were her thoughts when the carriage stopped at last sad the driver bads her descend. She perceived him to be an African, of pleasant face and stariike eyes. To all her questions, however, be did hot shake his head and show grinning teeth which would as well become a snarl as laughter, she thought. It was dawn then, and then were gray mists driftmg above the hedges. They bad stopped In a Ian* and nothing human was sight. "Very sorry, missygo back now. No far to go, master says so." "Where are we, where have you brought me?" she asked, obeying him in some fear. Be answered her, stin grinning: "You get back to London, quick, missee. Master says so. Dis am his carriage. Verry sorry, missy." She perceived that he played a part and would contend with him no more. Still nod ding his black head and showing his white teeth, he turned the carriage about and dis appeared down the lane. When the rolling sound of the wheels bad quite died away, Evelyn began to walk along the lane in that which she believed to be the direction of London. The mists lifted as the sun began to warm them. She was terribly cold, chilled to the very bone, and exhausted both bodily and mentally, but she pushed on bravely and presently out of the mists a cottage appeared and then another. Yet a hundred yards farther down the lane she espied some modern villas in the Queen Anne style and after that quite a considerable village lying in the hollow. It would have been about 8 o'clock of the morning by the time and workmen passed her with the firm tread and the cheery "'Good morn ing, miss," which are still to be seen and beard within ten miles of the metropolis. At first she scarcely had the courage to ask where she was, for she' realised how strangely the ques tion most fall upon other ears at such a time and under such circumstances: but plucking up her courage presently as a lad approached her, she storped him and learned that this was the village of Pinner, and that it lay just thirteen miles from London. "Yonder'a the station, miss. Just round there to the right I suppose you've walked over from Harrow. Lots or ladles do now they've took to hockey, don't like thatnot me. It hurts tho shins unless you've got thick *uns like the new girls has." He was quite a conversationalist, the boy. and be rambled on with a precise account of Ms own intimate affairs, dating from the happy anniversary of a present of five shillings from a gentleman in a "broke-in-half motor car to the recent arrival of a little sister, with whom he would shortly quarrel. One of his most cheerful items of information, was that which revealed the near proximity of an bin, styled by htm a "public" bat which, neverthetesa. brought to Evelyn such visions of hot steaming coffee and new warm bread and a fireside whereby she might thaw her ftosen hands that she bestowed a whole shilling upon him willingly and for that *v-H