Richmond planet. [volume], March 28, 1903, Page 3, Image 3

About Richmond planet. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1883-1938

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(Cosyiicln. ta??, by J ? Llpplncott Ca.J
SVNOPSl?"
CHAPTER I?Nelson Conway, ?uspeerted
ff a- Philadelphia, bank rubbery, reach*?
ldlngton on tils way to the old Nelson
bo musics?], gets Jake Hunslcker to drive
him to his boyhood home and recognizes
? Jake's wife barati, a servant 18 years
fore to his grandfather Nelson.
CHAPTKR II?A year previous Conway,
paying teller in a Philadelphia savings
Dank, was Invited to the home of Florence
Morley to a party. Knowing this would
not allow h'.m to return to bank aa early
next morning as usual he arranges with
Horace Jackson?a fellow employe?to b.
sn band when the clockwork should release
combination of vault. Returning to bank
aext morning Conway discovers the cash
reserve of $100,000 missing.
CHAPTER III?Conway Is accused of
theft, but Mr. Morley, a trustee, proves an
alibf for him, without however removing
the general suspicion.
CHAPTER IV?Perry expresses hie con?
fidence ln Conway, but says otucially he
muet hold him in doubt, -whereupon Con?
way resigns hie position. Air. Morley also
believes in Conway"? Innocence, but be?
cause of public distru.it exacts a promise
that friendly relations between Conway
snd Florence Morley be discontinued until
Conway proves his Innocence.
CHAPTER V?Florence shortly after this
writes to assure Conway of her continued
respect and trust. In the old Nelson home,
?o long deserted. Conway hears strange
noises:, sees a ghostly figure ln the moon?
light, shtxita at It. only to find It a reflec?
tion of himself. Unearthly voices are heard
even after daylight comes speaking In dis?
jointed unmeaning phrases. Conway learn?
from Sarah that Sylvester lioriey and his
daughter have a summer residence In near
neighborhood.
CHAPTER VI?Discovery Is made, that
both doorways to one of the cellars have
been walled up. Florence driving by with
ber father see? Conway. but offers no salu?
tation. Jackson has frequently been corn?
ine from city and sometimes calls on the
Itaxleya
G? ?? ? "I ER VT??Conway ?ees Sonntag.
bis agent. He knows nothlngof walling? up
eellar doors. Sonntag connects mysterious
lights and noises with the sealed doorways.
CHAPTER VII I?Meeting between Flor
enr?? an.TC"onw?irr<v<t!TTs' r*\ ttoTRTsTtto???t
ry. Jackson had proposed to her, been re
fueed. but upon accusing Conway of rob?
bing a compact had been made that ?he
would marry Jackson ln case theft could
b? tmr*?"* *1 C '.~.~".'. ~r'
?"?HATTER G??Again mysterious noises
are heard at nipht, and Conway spends
many restless hours trying ln vain to locate
?hem. A pistol shot from the room below
? heard, whereupon he decides to rut
through the floor to pain access to the
barred-up cellar, and in the morning pro?
cures tools for the purpose,
r"11 ???Rtt X - Sonntag discovers that
?tonen usted In walling up doorways corre?
spond to those of ruined srhoolhouse near
where Jackson has taken a place. The
mysterious voices are heard, anil by com?
paring note" with Con-way traces th?m to a
telephone arrangement, and en important
OOUTersattOD 1? put together from the de?
tached phrases heard. Conway learns that
Hunter, station agent at Sidington. Is en
alias for Skinner.
CHAPTER XI?Conway wit ? essivi meet?
ing between Skinner ami atlas Morley, who
ride up from opposite ?llrectlons, converse
earnestly and rl?;?? back their respective
ways. Skinner approaches house: ?Tonwsy
appearing, he shows confusion, and when
addressed as Skinner Ores at but
Con?-- irs aitsa |f< rleysaye
as*
?? -.i-Uii. as srss ui.? . _ . ___
CJaaJflaUl XII.
Mr. Morley cuan* ?lowii tha path from
the house. At lirst he did not s?*e us.
snd Florence calle?!, which eauseil him
to turn ami approach. As he drew near
his planee rested on me. Then he,
ecsnned his daughter's face anxiously.
His face gfna whit?*, and a drawn ex?
pression came over it; he totter?*d in
hin walk, and seemed to keep upright
by an effort of will.
"Child, why- have you tears in your
eyes?" he asked. In low, husky tones.
Then, without pausing- for answer, he
went on: "Retire into tho house,
?daughter. I wish to speak to Mr. Con
?*s.aj. Change your habit if you wish.
I do not think I will be able to ride with
you this morning."
"Oh, father, you are ill I" Florence
exclaimed, in deep concern. "What is
it? Do come with nie into tihe house
snd let ime do something for you." In
a loving way which was all her own
she <lrew his arm through hers.
The pargnt glanced down at the
beautiful upturneil face with solicitous
love shining upon it, and his face lost
some of its haggardness. He smiled
and replied: "I am not ill, Florence;
only- a trille worried. Do as I requested,
please."
In ob?ed?ence she ?lowly withdrew,
semi i nf back to uie an appealing
giant??'.
When she had gone 1 turned my gaze
upon the father. There ama no wonder
that Florence bad ex pressed concern
for her parent. Kven the momentary
glimpse I had caught of him on the
morning after my arrival showed me
a change. And now that a closer in?
spection was possili!?*, th?* ilillVivncc
4>etween the Mr. Morley of u year BfO
snd the man now standing before me
was startlingly apparent. lie certainly
looked like a sick man.
"You had better sit down, sir," I said,
in commiseration for his weakness.
Mr. Morley sank down upon a rustic
seat and I remained standing before
him, awaiting his words with emotions
alternating between hope and fear.
"I?I have lost somewhat of late?
business reverses," he murmured.
Then, suddenly fixing his eyes on my
face in a searching glance, he said:
"My daughter was weeping. What was
the reason? What did you say to her
to cause her tears?"
"It was her own tender heart that
caused her to weep," I replied, after a
pause, during which I considered what
answer I should make. For it did not
seem right to add any fresh trouble to
the already overburdened man.
lie regarded me with a questioning
look, and I added : "She was sorry, sir,
that my innocence has not been estab?
lished. This was partly the cause for
her tears. I n m deeply grateful for
her tender sympathy."
"Oh!" The hard lim^s of his face
relaxed; he drew a long breath. "She
thinks very highly of you, Conway."
"Your words give me the keenest
pleasure, Mr. Morley, and offer me an
opportunity to lay before you a sub?
ject which may prove unpleasant," I
raid, eagerly.
Mr. Morley started; then a tremor
ran over him. What was the matter
with the man that he seemed to t.ik??
alarm, first at my presen? e aud now at
my words? If he w;is so bou ml up iu
his daughter that he was fearful of
having her leave him. even to marry the
man she loved, there seemed small hope
of obtaining his consent.
In the fear that 1 should lose my love,
after all. I poured out my earnest
words.
"Mr. Morley, I want Florence to be
my \\if<\ Tha ?? is no use mincing mat?
ters; tho simple fact is, I must have
her. She loves me. and my love for her
is part of life itself. Will you not give
your consent?"
To my disappointment he dodged the
question altogether. .
"Why are you bere?" he asked.
"Here?"
"Tee. Why did you come to Nelson
ville?"
"?? find rest and quiet and peace; to
escape people's cruel tongues," I ?ax
claimed impatiently. "I give you my
word of honor, sir," I went on, think
' ing I divined what his thought w;is, "I
knew nothing of your living in Nelson
ville. No idea was farther from my
mind than that 1 should meet Florence
here. But I cannot, help filing you
how my meeting her has lightened the
bunion of the past year, how her love
makes my life appear bright before
me, and shine even through the cloud
which still rests upon my honor. You,
of course, can withhold your consent,
but, I toll you openly, 1 shall in that
ens?? do my utmost to persuade her to
murry nie against your wish."
I was startled by my bol<rne**B in
speaking as I did. but the word-s were
out, ami ? wouio noi nave reca 11 cu mem
if I could.
"P'lorcnce would not marry without
my ?-onsent," Mr. Morley remarked,
with tin? trace of a smile,
"Ah, sir, I know that well. W? can
wait until my innocence is proved. But
it would bo most cruel to us both should
you withhold your consent."
"You are still s:iugnine, then, of
your innocence being established?"
"Most assuredly, sir.'*
Why an anxious look should appear
?on bis face I could not tell then. I
know tbe many sudden ?-banges of ex?
pression which came over him ?luring
ih? ?'onvcrs;it km ciinsed me consider?
able surprise at the time.
"T?? bave not kept track of that nf
*? !r." he began feebly, "having been
fvl'v oi-euiiied with in%' QWn concerti??,
have there been any new ?.le
\el? l"' ..?,a iy discoveries upon which
MM bas?? your bop???"
"An innocent man cannot be math?
tn sulTor forever, according to all laws
of truth ami justice. 1 firmly belie-ve
?;:> name w ?11 be cleared, perhaps soon?
er than cxpo.'ti'd."
"Then your hop?-s are based on more
sentiment, and not on any discovery
bearing on the ?as???" Mr. Morley asked.
"Mostly on tbe MM that truth will
eventually prevail.*" I replied, epigram
matically.
"A most unstable anchorage nowa?
days. Facts and proofs are what tho
prm-tioal world demands. So, then, ymi
ask me to rescind my request made of
you a year m go, notwithstanding the
fact that tbe conditions remain the
same. You have broken your promise
to ine; how then am I to know that your
protestations of love for my daughter
are sincere?**
I stared at the man in astonishment,
for his words were delivered in a cold,
matter-of-fact manner, and, if there
had been-any reason for it, I should
have thought there was a ?triumphant
ring in the tones of his voice.
The idea that Horace Jackson had ac?
tually succeeded in persuading the fa?
ther that I was the guilty one in ref?
erence to the bank robbery flashed
across my mind. I knew, too, that,
deep and sincere as Florence's love
was for me, she would never be my -wife
against her father's wish.
In bitterness of heart I brokeoutin
a volume of words, urged on to earn?
estness by the fear that my darling
would be lost to me:
"Good God, sir! You love your daugh?
ter; you love her tenderly. Your devo?
tion to her has been a synonym of far
therly love; everyone has spoken of
it that knew you. Then how in heaven's
name can you endanger her happiness
in life by persuading her to marry a
man she cannot love?one whom shede
tests, the very sight of whom is ab?
horrent to her? Oh, sir, she is young
and has a lifetime of happiness or mis?
ery before her, whichever you may
choose to make it. You are?pardon
me for saying it?you are a breaking
man." Mr. Morley sprang? from his
seat at these words, and stood erect,
confronting me with a glare of angry
resentment in his eyes. Butlwenton.
Nothing could have stopped me then.
"It is true, sir; the signs of ill-health
are upon you. That was one cause,
the change in you, which brought the
tears to your daughter's eyes just now."
His haughty manner subsided, went
down suddenly. Be sank upon the seat,
covering his face in his hands, and
groaned.
I could not help pitying him, neith?
er could I resist taking advantage of
this change.
"I entreat you, sir, to ask Florence
to speak out to you from her heart.
If she exhibits the slightest compunc?
tion at the thought of being my wife,
I solemnly promise never to intrude on
your notice again?to withdraw from
your Hfe nnd hers as completely as
though I had never lived. Think, Mr.
Morley, if anything should happen to
you?*'
"Happen to me!" he broke <*i. with
hoarse tones.
_"^7?/? ?yes; people die, ?-^a knowt
Boaaetfhsea 1<?????*???\," G faltereiT", T?5?
much astonished at the t?TTiH?*d look
which ?ani? ov?*r li ?s face to choose
my words. Hut my amazement
chnng?*?! to alarm at the effect of the
last remark.
Mr. Morlev's face became ghastly;
his under jaw dropped, anil his hands
worked convu sively. His lips moved,
too, but no Bound came from them.
Thoroughly frightened, 1 stood and
watched him, then started with the in?
tention of summoning aid. But he de?
tained me by a gesture. Finally, after
a painful struggle, speech came to him.
"II.iw did you know that?" he gasped,
in tones so low that I was compelled
to bend down over him to catch the
words. "How could you know?the
thought?the f?*cling?the conviction of
? sudden ?h-ath?has been constantly
with me of late??Oh, (?oilI It is com?
ing, I know it?coming soon, that sud?
den death!"
"No, no, Mr. Morley," 1 answered,
briskly. "Cheer up, sir. I was only
supposing a case. You will not die,
sir. You are a sick man, and that is
the cause of jour gloomy premonitions,
depend upon it. Allow me to help you
into tho house. Go to bed, and we'll
have a doctor at you as quickly as pos?
sible. You'll be all right again soon."
The fact is, I really thought the man
vas dying, and, in the fear of that,
my words were rather extravagant,
lie di?l not seem to notice them, how?
ever, but sat there with his head
drooped on hie bosom. I shook him
gently by the arm, and he raise?! his
eyes. Yielding to my uplifting mo?
tion. h<* staggerei! to his feet.
Slowly we moved toward the house,
the broken man leaning his whole
weight on me. Not a word was uttered
by either of us until we reached the
steps lending up to the piazza. There
he ?Irew back, and I hastily placed my
arm behind him, from the fear that he
was about to siuk down. He did not,
however, and, as I soon found, he had
paused simply to speak before entering
the house. He gazed into my face long
and earnestly, and such an appealing
look was in his eyes that I was stirred
to deepest compassion.
"Swear to God that she shall always
respect my memory; that she may
never hear anything to cause her to
?hange in her love for me," he said,
brokenly, and in the manner of one
in a dream. "Promise this," he de?
manded, fiercely.
"Do you refer to Florence?" I asked,
thinking that his mind was wandering.
"Yes, yes."
"\\liy, you snow now ueep miti true
is her affection for you, Mr. Morley."
"And always shall be!" he exclaimed.
"There can be no doubt of it, 1 nm
sure Nothing could change her.
Come, let me help you in."
"Not yet. Swear that she shall never
hear anything to make her change." lie
again demand???!, "wliaU'vcr happens.
Swear it! C?ive me your oath ?before
God!"
Thinking to humor him in his weak?
ness, und yet strongly impresse?! by his
terrible earnestness, I raised my hand
end made th?* ?lesired oath.
Mr. Morley drew a long breath nnd
then again spoke, in firmer tones.
"I believe you will keep this promise,
if you did not the other," he said.
"I will keep it, if it is at all possible,"
? bUbWStared) earnestly.
"It is for her good."
"For Florence's?"
"Yes, for Florence's ',ood."#
"Depend on me, sir. This promise
will be kept faithfully."
"Then, Conway, marry my ?laughter
?my belovetl daughter?my treasure!
Marry her soon, iinnu-diatelyI Now
help me in. I think I feel better."
CnAPTER XIII.
A groom was sent to Twineburgh for
? doctor. This was contrary to Mr.
tforley's wish. De insisted that a doc?
tor was not necessary, and it was only
to appease the anxiety of his daughter
that he finally consented to see a med?
ical man.
But all the daughter's entreaties
could not move him to go to bed. He
lay down on the couch in the library,
and Florence sat beside him, holding
one of his hands. I left them thus to?
gether and went outside?
Before I left the man's voice had re?
sumed much of its usual vigor. For
one ?who had seemed to be as near col?
lapse as he, strength returned very rap?
idly.
Notwithstanding my pity for Flor?
ence, there was great pride and joy in
my heart. The sweetest girl in the
?world was mine. All troubles, mys?
teries, the heart-sickness of the post
year, seemed petty and trivial beside
this thought. Mr. Morley had given
his consent to our marriage; indeed,
it was an absolute command.
The scene under the trees came back
to me, and I cou Id not repress a shudder
as I thought of the father's horrible
premonitions and the overwhelming ef?
fect produced by them.
I walked about the grounds or re?
clined on one of the many seats scat?
tered around, determined to await the
doctor's arrival. My mind would con?
stantly revert to the secret trouble
which was so evident and powerful a
factor in Mr. Morley's life; and what it
was that could so affect a gentleman of
his standing and wealth furnished me
matter for speculation. The great
motive and influence in the father's life,
I knew, was his love for his only child.
Therefore it seemed that the hidden
trouble must arise from some sorrow or
danger which threatened Florence.
The thought caused me considerable
uneasiness.
I had not realized how morbidly
sensitive the robbery had made me, un?
til now. All the unfathomed events snd
incidents which had occurred during
I the two days I had been here seemed la
' some indefinable way connected with
the affair, or the result of it.
The doctor arrived much sooner than
I hod expected. Indeed, the idea of
giving meddcal adrice to a great man
like Mr. Morley was incentive strong
enough to cause a country physician to
kill his horee in tbe endeavor to reach
the patient as quickly as possible.
After quite a time spent over Mr. Mor?
ley, the doctor stepped out on the
porch, and, drawing on his gloves, de?
layed his departure to answer a few
questions which Florence, who had fol?
lowed, put to him. It was impossible
for the worthy physician to conceal
wholly his sense of importance, al?
though he tried to appear as though it
jyas by no means a_n un usual thing to^e
found administering assisane to mil?
lionaires.
Florence anxiously listened to his
vvoril-s of inhice. a:i,' then witlulrew. I
had some hope of speaking to her. but
she only bestowed on me a sail, swent
smile, whieh toUl of h?*r hue for me
as well as her unxiety for the fath?-r.
ond with that I had to be ?"?intent.
As the doctor was returning immedi
ately to Twinebirgh. I proposed to ac?
company Tiitn. He exjir? sse?l his pleas?
ure in having a companion, and I
climbed into the carriage besiile him.
I was anxious to tell Sonntag of the
murderous attack apoa in??. On the
way, finding the worthy dottor willing
to answer questions, I was soon pos?
sessed of his opinion of my lawyer und
agent. This opinion was ? very high
one.
Sonntag seemed to have the eleinints
of popularity iu him. But there was
something about the. oh! fellow I <li?l
not understand: there seemed to be a
great unknown depth to him beyond
the mere fact that he ama a country
lewyer and my agent. Nevertheless.
I felt that he was to be trusted. I felt
safe in his bauds. My own opinion be?
ing so heartily corroborated by the doc
. tor made me all the more satisfied.
But my trust and confidence in the
old lawyer soon received a shock.
When we arrived at Sonntag's office
I sprang from the buggy, and, after
' Olire me your oath bet?re Ood.
thanking tbe doctor, walked up to the
door. Sonntag was walking back and
forth with his handts behind him ear?
nestly conversing with some one in?
side. There was also a rear door to thv
lawyer's office. A man was standing
near this door, and when I entered the
office he quickly stepped out; not so
quiCKiy, however, oui mat ? cangili, a
glimpse of his face. It was Hunter, or
Skinner, as you please.
The thought of the treachery he had
been guilty of toward her in whose pay
he was came to me and inflamed me
with sudden and uncontrollable auger.
Uttering an expletive, under the spur
of a strong impulse, I made ? spring for
him. Out through the door I followed
him, and down through the yard. He
hod too much the start, however, and
was over ? high board fence at the bot?
tom of the yard before I could come up
to him.
I retraced my steps to the lawyer's
office. The olii fellow was standing in
the door ami seemed to have been high?
ly diverted by witnessing the chase,
judging by his face.
"The rascal! the villain!" I ex?
claimed, pushing past the lawyer Into
the office and sinking down, panting
for breath. "If ever I get my hand on
him, I'll wring his neck!"
Sonntag closet! the door and then
turned toward me. "What have you
against him?" he asked.
I recounted the shooting Incident,
to which Sonntag listened with a whim?
sical expression.
"H'm! And he shot at you when you
called him Skinner, eh?" he remarked,
when I had finished. "Must be some?
thing in his former life; but then?well.
It's strange, certainly. Why, I always
address him as Skinner, and he never
attempted to shoot me; indeed, he
never seemed to notice."
"Then it is evident his attempt to
shoot me was not for my -calling him
by his right name. See here, Mr. Sonn?
tag," I continued, earnesly, "do you
suppose he is in any way concerned in
the cellar affair?"
"Who, Skinner? Good gracious, no!
that is, I can't Bay, but I think not."
"What were you talking to him
about?" I asked, eying the old fellow
with some impatience, for the more I
conversed with him the less I could un?
derstand him.
"Oh, about a matter of freight," my
agent replied, indifferently.
"It was trivial, then ?"
"Yes, yes, of no importance what?
ever."
"Mr. Sonntag, it is from no wish to
know the subject of your conversation
with that wretch of a Skinner that 1
ask the question. But I happened to
see you just before I entered the office,
and I am a trifle curious to know if you
usually speak as earnestly on unimpor?
tant topics as you evidently did to him."
The lawyer regarded me a moment.
He seemd to be debating some question
in his mind.
"Was I earnest?" he finally inquired.
"Everything about me seems to be
mysterious!" I exclaimed, piqued to
impatience at his wholly dodging my
question. "There's one mystery that
will be cleared up soon, however," 1
added, decidedly.
"Yes? And that is?"
"The cellar mystery."
Sonntag again cautioned me against
being too precipitate.
"Then give me some good reason for
your caution!" I exclaimed. "It's get?
ting monotonous following people's ad?
vice without having a reason for so
doing. I'll do so no more. I have half
a notion to get out of the place, l?ver
since my arirval, petty trivial circum?
stances have harassed me and kept
me in an irritable mood."
"Well, maybe it would be best for
you to visit some of your friends in
town," Sonntag said, reflectively, "if
only for a few days."
"No, sir. I have no friends, and your
seeming desire to have me away makes
me the more determined to stay. But
a course of supinei ess is done with.
Now I'll take the rei as, and see whafls
to be made out of the driving."
"Just as you pleine about that, of
course, Mr. Conwaj-. But I do beg of
you, and it is for your own interests 1
speak, delay the attempt to enter the
cellar until to-mo.*row."
"Why?" I eunly asked.
"You'll know in the morning." n?y
lawyer repli???!, with u smile.
"I may be ?!?-;i?i by that tim?\" I re?
plied. "Certainly if 1 must b?> tbe tar?
get for every assassin's bullet, my
colini might as well be ordere?l now."
Sc.y'mg which, 1 took my own pistol
from my iKK'ket. "You s???? that? Well,
ii nu ans t bat after this I'll be as handy
with I pistol as others are."
Mr. Sonntag eyed me rather sus?
piciously, as though not at all certain
but ?bat I would level the weapon at
him.
"Those things arc dangerous, Mr.
Conway. anil are liable to go off without
warning." he roma iked, dryly, after 1
had returned the pistol to my poek?'t.
"Yes, I know that. And if there
should be o?'casion for it to go ol? in my
? hand, you may be sure it will be for
the purpose ?>f hitting something. 1
believe my peeve? is thJ*eeteneo*? if not
my life. How do I know but what that
cellar under inv room has been used,
maybe is being used. f?ir some criminal
purpose? If that is true, my arrival
in Keleoni ill?? end taking up my abode
right In the midst of hidden crime
would naturally prevent any contin?
uance of operations, and endanger the
secret. I believe that attempts are
being made to cause me to leave; if
mysterious demonstrations cannot ac?
complish it by frightening me, then
the purpose is to remove mc by death."
"There may be something in what
you say," Sountag remarked, after a
moment's thought. "But promise me
you will not attempt to shoot the sta?
tion agent," he added, with deep ear?
nestness.
"What? Make no defense against
his cowardly attacks?" 1 exclaimed, in
amazement at my lawyer's request.
"Be will not repeat it, you may be
sure. At least promise tn dof??r re?
taliation until to-morrow."
"And get shot in the meantime!"
"No. I said it would not happen
again."
"Just let me get my hands on him.
I'll choke the life out of him," was the
only reply 1 made.
I "Oh, yes; that's all right. Choke him
all you want to, but please, Mr. Con
way, no shooting. I don't mind tell?
ing 3'ou that any headstrong course on
your part may upset a few well-laid
plans for your own good, which give
promise now of fruitful results. Wait
until to-morrow. You shall know all
ithen, 1 promise you."
It is impossible to convey by words
the seriousness of my lawyer's manner
. In making these remarks.
Wl-n?? 1 ?..-rio i?r?nver<sir>rr witb Mr.
iSonntag there was something about
Jhim which compelled me to foci trust
[and confidence, notwithstanding his
? many sayings bearing on some secret
* purpose which he was so careful noi
? to reveal.
"Well, I give up trying to make you
out," I said, after considering his
wonls and being impresseti by them.
"You certainly are the most inexplica?
ble specimen of a country lawyer.
Who are you. anyhow ?"
"Your lawyer and agent and. Mr.
Conway, let ine add, in sineority, your
friend.'"
Somehow 1 could not but believe him
at the tilme. His wonls carried convic?
tion.
"I'ardon me for seeming imperti?
nent," Sonntag said, as be accompanied
me to the door, "but have you seen Miss
Morley since your arrival?"
"Yes."
"And everything is all right?"
"Yes." ?
"You intend marrying her?"
"I have her father's consent."
"Ah! I congratulate you."
Sonntag extended his hand and
smiled. But the smile died away imme?
diately, anil the expression which fol
, lowed strangely ulauirhoal me Was it
sorrow? For what? Or was it pity?
Surely not pity for me!
1 wont from the ot?ice resolved to fol?
low my lawyer's advice just this once.
To-morrow was not far distant, and 1
would know all then. Womloring very
much what this all would ?move to be, 1
started on my live-mile walk homeward.
Fortunately, 1 encountered Sarah,
who had driven to Twineburgh to do
some trading, and who was just climb?
ing into her wagon as I came up.
"Hello, Sarah," I called, as she was
about to take up the liues "Will you
give me a lift?"
She looked around in surprise, then
expressed her pleasure at seeing me
again as I climbed up oesiile her.
As we were crossing the track at Sid
ington, I was considerably surprised to
see the station agent at work on the
platform handling some freight. The
fellow really seemed to be ubiquitous.
I had encountered him in Nelsonville,
in Sonntag's office, and now again at
the station attending to his duties.
His back was toward us and he did
not notice the wagon and its occupants.
Sarah pulled up the team ut my re?
quest and I climbed down from the
wagon. I was curious to note again
what effect my presence would have on
the fellow. When I had moved some
distance from the team (for I did not
propose to endanger Sarah's life In
case he took it into his head to fire at
me again), piecing my hand on my re?
volver as it rested in my pocket. I
called to him:
"Hello, there! I say, you; Skinner!"
The fellow dropped the truck handles
and turned quickly. Then he lied swift?
ly along the platform toward the door
of the station house, through which he
bolted.
But I was not watching him. His
flight and the manner of it was per?
ceived simply because his form was in
the line of vision.
It was upon the bow-window in the
telegraph office that my gaze w as fixed.
For, at my hail, a face had appeared at
that window, and then was quickly
withdrawn.
Did my sight deceive me, or was it
really the face of Horace Jackson?
Following a natural impulse, I
sprang upon the platform and went to
the door. It was locked. Then I tried
the door leading Into the ladies' wait?
ing-room, but that was also locked.
I walked around the place a few times
and peere?l into each window, but no
one was to be seen.
It was no surprise that the fellow
Skinner should wish to avoid me, but
if the other face I had seen belonged to
Jackson, vhy should he oesire to hide
from me?
The idea of smashing in a window or j
breaking down a door, and thus gain- J
lng entrance^ oocurred_ to me, but on ?
second thought I abandoned it.
Prabaht] ?"ae?maa. bavtng heard ?hat
I was r?si?ling at NHsonvil'e. and know
j ing that I must therein. ? have met
Fhireii???? Morh'v and have ??????? in
formed I iv her of his <?<?? t ?inp* iiili man?
I ner ?if Irving to win her. ?bought It
best not to iue?t me.
If he wisiie?! t., avoid ase be waa it
liberty to ?|(> so h srnsa trivialeireum*
stau???*, at an? r.ii?? snd so ? left tha
platform and ?'limb.? I bach upon the
wagon.
"Yhat for he run so .'" il quired Ksursl .
as she drove ?in.
"Oh. ? have e 1 nu* sccounl lo settle
with him. and be is afraid .>f asa, !
suppos??." 1 replied.
"|)?'r ?as anoder man ?<?o ?iid?*?ii?.
d?-r." sh?? eaatinaed.
"'You saw him. thi-ii. Yes. I :h<iug".4
I there was Bai I eonjdn'l Und either
of I hem. and tbe ??oofs we. ,? all locked "
?Sarah w:s mach p'i/./.le-' al ti:? OS?
ini reave, end mad?? numerous remai ba
and asked many questiona in the en?
deavor t?; obtain more light; but i ?lid
not gratify her curiosity and answer? ?J
ony in monosyllabb's.
My mind was in ??\??? a greater wMi-i
of perplexity than mv old nurse's.
Why had Skinner tri???' to ahsot me,
and why, after thus showing some -pow?
erful animosity toward ne, should h?*
now appear eoah e eravev thai h?? fled,
evidently in great f?*ar. .".on? my pres
ence? What was the fellow's real in tent
aad purpose la engaging himself to
Floren???? as a detective ? Was lie r?-a ly
a detective?
Jackson had reeoiiim?'nd?'<l him to
Florence. What bond existed between
Jackson ami Skinner'.' and,moreover,
who was SonntSg? These *hr??" t?^?
seem?! som? how strangely eoanscoad
with my life, but how an?] to what ?td?
"Sarah, ?lo you bnOW ?mv thing ?uout
Mr. Sonntag?" I l? nail ? ask???).
"??1?. yes. I!? is y.Mir law, ?t. ai-'t
he?"
"Yes, \ es. l'ut do yon know anything
about him? He has twit Keen in 1*wlne
burgh very lonr^, has he9"
"No. ? bond six months. Tie Is a
very nice man, and a goal von, ?oo,"
Sarah replied, ?convincingly.
"That seems to !>?? the genera] opin?
ion regarding htm. Do JTOU know any?
thing alxiut *be station ageni?"
"I ton't know noddingabond him."
"Be came h?-re about the same time
that Sonntng d*?l, I bel????.?*."
"Yes, 1 guess so."
"Sanili," I began, again, after a
j pause, "can your husband be relic?! up
| on to face ?langer V
"Danger?"
"Yes. Don't be alarmed; I ?lon't
know of.'iny; hot supposing sonic su?l
ilen ?langer arose before liini. would he
have the courage to meet it?"
"Yes, if I vaawith him," was Sarah's
reply.
"When you are with him?"
"Y?s. I ton't know, if he vas alone.
bud he fight ?le devil if I am p* him."
I could uot restrain a hurst of laugh?
ter at the idea of the great powerful
farim-r boftag courageous only in his
wife's presence. Sarah Joined heart?
ily in my merriment, an?' remarked
that her husband eouhl be relie?! upon
to do just what she desired.
"Well, then, can you nn?! Jake come
over to N'elsonville to-morrow morn?
ing early anil help me dig a way into
the cellar?" I asked, again becoming
serious.
"Suro we can," Sarah replied, ex?
citedly.
"And bring a crowbar along, anil a
?ledge hammer if you have them. If
we cannot cut tfi?* ?hick beams in the
floor of my room, we. may he able t?*
dig through the foundation wall. This
Wa* it really the face of Horace J<* itimout
is the last night I will spend in *he old
house with the mystery of the cellar
remaining unsolved, if there is any
mystery ?t all."
My old nurse insist od on my remain?
ing at her honen for dinner, ami left
me seated tin the porch while she went
inside to prepare the meal.
From my eeal I could aee tha station
far down the hill, through the trees.
Two men were moving about on the
platform, but the. ?listane?* was t?->o
great to allow distinction of anything
but their forms.
Remembering than that my field*
glass had been J?*ft here at Sara It's
house on the morning of my arrival. 1
called in to buve her bring It to me,
which she did.
Taking the glass from the ease I ad?
justed it to vcij eye and then turned it
[toward the station.
My sight had not deceived ?ne even
in the momentary glimpse of the face
at the window.
The face was Horaoa Jackson's, and
there the fellow was now, standing on
the edge of the platform,?peaking most
earnestly, judging by the vehement
jfestures, to the station agent.
(To Be Continued.)
Matter of Sex.
Man want? but little here below,
But women folks are queer;
They want th?- big. round earth, because
They think it's woman's sphere.
?Cincinnati Enquirer.
Easier.
Capt?. Bravenian?I'll lead the van.
You will bring up the rear.
Private Hooligan?Say, cap, what's
the matter wad me brliigin' up ?the rear
an' gettin' in the van wid it??N. Y.
Herald.
There Are Kieeptios?.
"It is ?aid that all parsons'sons turn
out to be worthless. Do you believe
it?"
"Oh, d*ar, no! Some p.trsoas have
no eons, you kn?>w."?London King.
TACKLED A BRONCHO.
New York Newspaper Man Shows
Great Enterprise.
Uni the ?., ? ? II. -.?.it r. I If?. iiot Waa am
All-V ron ???I Mirrami ?nil tbe
>> m pu 11? > i>f Ilia Devoted
M lie.
The fverege ?cwapnperamwttlan?
dur?? toil, fece dunger ami surmouuh
dilli? nil ,?? ?.? furnish readable copy of
' which the public know.-, little. Hero
is a atorj told by a New Y?-rk n?v,spa
| per nan who we? "down on hi? iuek***
V"<1 willing to do wage in almost any
; deeperate enterprise to "rai.-e th?
I wind.'" "O? ?mir:??." h? said, "it don'tv
' mean thai w e a re willing to do all these?
I thing- for ih? beneflt ?>f thofleer puh
I lie, beeeoae w* expect none] ea well
?as ? alista? t ion, but 1 can teli y OU ?fono
instance when 1 ned? ?juite a sacrifice?
aud didn't drew a eheeh f?>r it either;
'"l'ho tenneriealweya ? bit dull for
M in the iiKtrtipclis. and suine <>f us
who aoehe the pictun ? bee? todo -omo
elote figuring, ? w;is out ofujobwheui
Buffelo Bill's wild west show oeneto)
to*? n. and I went around t?? ?m?? ol the?
?Sunday editor? and mad?? a snajsjeatioa?
for a atory. I told bin l would go out
and trj t-i rid?? one <>f Buffalo Bill*??
bucking si??i!s and write it up. 1 had?
it all plenned out, beedlinea end all,
something ?il??- iiii?: 'The world ?*. seen
from the hurricane deck ol ? bucking
broncho.' I nede e pretty itifftalkto
the editor, for I needed the money,boi
he g?ve in?? tin? leugh, and told m?? the
st or? ?rea no good, end eren if it w;is I
ouldn*1 bengonto tbe broncho, ? wen?
out <'f the office determined to try my
luck at ri?!ing. and thought I night L.r?'t
a auffielen, amount of interesting mat?
ter to soil the story somewhere else.
I went out to the shou grounds ant*
In a tent beck of the aren? cane across
a b>t of the show bend? dreeeed up like
cowboys. I told then, 1 we? I nCWSpu
p?r man. and staled my caso, telling;
them I wented to tackle one of ?heir
bucking horses. I bud spent two ye??*?
in the w? -t and felt able to ?tick onto
pretty marly anything in the line of
hor.-e* fi? vii."
"Tin? cowboyi looked at one another
ami winked. Then they told me they
6TAHTED TO Rl'CKING.
rouhl aeconnodet? ne if 1 was in eai*
neet. ? told them that I had nade tho
proposition on the level, and ihey
brought ?>ut an und? r-si/???!, scraggy
roan am! sailti l??l a ml bridled bin. He
stood their? \?'ty QUietlj too ?piietly..
in feet. His cars w ? re tilted sliirhtly
book and his tail moved with -hurt?
nerven?, jerks. 'Here's trouble,' G
hnitl to myself, and 1 we? not miktaken.
The eowboj who was holding the
hors? bj the heat! told me to gel on. I
grubbed th? bridle rein and made a dy?
ing leap, for I knew the broncho would
get untier wa\ Innediotely. TIw cow?
boy turned his head bios?? before f
could get m?, feet into the ??irrups..
and away W? wont. The beast made a?
few angular jump* and then started
to bucking. 11?? wea ? wonder, and the
way he arched hi. back was worthy of*
a torn cat. He came ?lown stiff-legged?
on his four feet like a, piled river. 1
could not regain my stirrup. I wastot>
busy to think about it. 1 tried to pull
up bi? head to keep him from bucking?
so much, but before I could do it he?
made one wild leap in the air, cam?
down ao hard that I felt my back teeth?
jar loose, and ihen be made another*
jump and I tumble?!. I lit on my simul?
ier and 1 thought I hail been killed.
The COWboyi com? running up to
me and 1 did not let them know 1 had
been hurt. I then ask? ?1 for another
horse, owning up to the fact that the
roan was too much for me. They
broeght out ? bleck one, which 1 had?
?een them riding in several perform?
ances. 1 knew his style of buckingand
bung on to bin long enough to satisfy,
them that 1 was not a tenderfoot-.
Aft?r my performance we went overt
to a nearby auloon ami they told met
the roan wa. the toughest proposition?.?
they had in the outfit. I went to bed.
is soon at 1 ?rot bone and it kept my ?
wife busy for several days attending:.
In my shoulder, which bad turned pur-?
pie from the bruises. When I went :
?round to the various newspaper o thee? '
?ffering my story with illustrations iej
w.is turned down so flatly that I con-.
eluded that personal sacrifice did not!
pay in the newspaper business." i
Tbe .Middleman.
Mrs. Reuben?You're a big fool to?
pay a hundred ?loilars for that gold
brick. .;
K?iiben--I)?in't worry. I'll sell tliatj
there brick to Si Hopkins for twoi
hundred. He's twict as big a fool
as I be.?N. Y. Journal. ft
? (hftrfol Loaer. *
Miss Joiinson?He admits tat he
gambles?but says he only does it
to try to git money 'nough fo' us tOi
git mahried on! t
Miss Jackson Wal, ah reckon dafni
de trufe! Dey ?ay he's Je?)' de eheer*?
fullest loser in l.lack\ ill?! I'iu-k.
Not So Very 11 ? K li
"I have been told?*1 said II??' iifivpa?
tient, "that y'.? a:e the bighe?! au?
thority on appendicitis."
"Oh! I don't know." replied the emi?
nent surgeon, "1 only charge $ 1 ,fi;)0 per
operation." ?Cethol s indard and
???? il ? ? ?