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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 ? ? ?