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THE GIRL WITH
A MILLION By D. C. Murray CHAPTER XVIII.-(Continued.) . "It will be expensive," he mused. "What of that? They would give a mill ion to have him. He knows everything He is the mainspring of everything." He finished his plans and went to a cheap uphorsterer's. There he ordered a triple supply of everything he had noted down, one set to be sent to his own ad dress in London, the two others to be packed separately in stout crates for transport by rail. The tradesman thoughi the order curi ous; but the foreign gentleman who gave It having paid twenty pounds down, and undertaking to pay the rest when the goods were ready for delivery, he forbore to puzzle himself about it. In three or four days' time the old fur niture was removed from Mr. Zeno's apartment, and the new furniture, glossy, new, and sticky as to the woodwork, and flaringly vulgar as to pictures, carpet, mirrors, curtains and hearthrugs, was all arranged in its place. When everything was arranged, Mr. Zeno, whose landlady had begun to think him eccentric, did a thing even more curious than the wanton and unnecessary refurnishing of his rooms had seemed. He walked out one morning and returned with a pale young man, who, in obedience to his instructions, produced a water-color sketch-book, a tube each of Chinese white and sepia, and a camel's hair pencil or two, and began to make a stiffly accurate and ugly sketch of one of the walls of Mr. Zeno's chamber. The pale artist made a drawing of e*ery one of the eight walls, and when they were done and paid for the spy him self drew a plan of the two rooms, num bered the drawing in correspondence with' the walls. When he had done this he made up the eight drawings and the plan into a neat packet, addressed it to a con federate in Calais, and registered it at the postoffice.. One of the three sets of furniture, with wall paper, carpet, cur tains, plaster casts, mirrors and chromos had been consigned to the same address three days before. The third set was consigned to a gentleman of Mr. Zeno's own profession in Vienna, and Austin Farley's plan' was in a fair way to be realized. CHAPTER XIX. If Fraser had been given to the analy sis of his own spiritual symptoms, he might have been a little surprised to dis cover how aromatic and tonic a draught he had imbibed in learning to hate O'Rourke. "I've a bit of news," he said one day to Maskelyne. "Maybe ye'll be able to guess why I bring it. O'Rourke's going to be married." "Yes?" said Maskelyne, quietly. Fra ser's bit of news was like a stab to him, but he was not the sort of man to make a show of his pain. "He's engaged to a friend of yours," said Fraser. "It was you that introduced m; to her." "I i u.l: not," returned Maskelyne. "Ye did. though," cried Fraser. "I got the news from Mrs. Farley, and she got it from the lady herself." "I introduced O'Rourke to an Ameri can lady here," said Maskelyne, rising from his seat involuntarily--"a Mrs. Spry." V "That's what I'm telling ye," said Fra aer. "They're going to be married." Mas kelyne sat down again without a word. "Hector O'Rourke is going to be married to the Mrs. Spry to whom you introduced him a month or two ago. There's no sort of humbug or nonsense about it, for it's a fact." "I can hardly believe~ it," returned' Maskelyne. "Ye don't seem to be wolldly delight ed," said Fraser, "after all. I thought ye'd skip like a young he goat upon the mountains." "I 'am very much obliged to you, in deed," pIaskelyne answered. "I will go and see' O'Rourke," he added, with an air of sudden decision and awakening. "Well," said Fraser, rubbing his hands and beaming, "the interview ought to be a pleasant one. I'll not keep ye from it a moment. I'll say good-morning." The two shook hands on the pavement in front of the hotel, and Fraser stood there to watch Maskelyne as he stepped into a cab and drove away. "Now," said Fraser, nodding and smil ing to himself, "that's not moy oydoyal of an ardent lover. But there's spoke num ber nine in your wheel, Hector, me boy; and there's.another or two in the course of manufacture." Maskelyne wandered about in his own home-made labyrinth until he had quite made up his mind that there was no way out of it, or through it. But finally he packed up a portmanteau, took the tidal train and carried his cobwebs to Brussels. There they were just as strong and unbreakable as ever, and even when, a day or two later, he carried them to Janenne, they seemed to bind him in like strands of steel. But being actually at Janenne, he found that he had added a new perplexity to the old ones. He was still as far as ever from seeing his way to Houfoy, but he saw quite clearly that it was impossible not to go. The day was inclining toward its close and there was a sense of ease in the wide fields to which he was not alto gether insensible, foolishly broken up and down in spirit as he was. The fields were more inviting than the road in many ways, not least perhaps, because they offered fewer chances of encounter. Sauntering in this downcast and irres olute mood, he found himself suddenly charged by a troop of half a dozen dogs, who all leaped and bayed about him, with demonstrations of welcome. Follow ing them, a gun under his arm, appeared the major, and behind the major an at tendant, who bore the dead bodies of a pair of well-grown foxes. "Hillo !" cried the major cheerily, while yet a hundred yards away. "How are you, old fellow? .Upon my word, I'm glad to see you. How's O'Roprke?" .' "He was in health when I saw him last," mid Maskelyne,. on whose nerves the menti'o ho his wicked rival grated. The major had not many people to talk to at Houfoy, and the unrestricted use of his native language was like a treat to him. He did not notice" Meskelyne's silence until he had exhausted his own budget of news and had made his final reflection upon its coni.nts. By that time it began to strike him that Maske lyne's manner was unusually subdued and serious. "I say," he exclaimed, stopping short and turning to face the young American, "you're not looking very bright, just now. i:emn ill?" "No," returned Maskelyne, "I have `een very well. Major Butler, I wanted o say a word to you upon a topic of great :noment to myself." "Yes?" said the major, facing him, and transferring his gun from one arm to the other. "You are Miss Butler's guardian." said Maskelyne: and this time the major's heart bumped, for he saw what was com ing. "I have to ask your permission to approach your nitce with an offer of mar riage." "My dear Maskelyne," said Butler, al most as hurriedly as if he had feared the offer might be retracted, "I am delighted to hear you say so, and I wish you luck." "I am right in assuming that Miss But ler is free?" asked Maskelyne. "Certainly," said Butler, "certainly. She's only a child. Never had a proposal in her life. I thought you had something of this kind oni your mind when you were here before. That is, I fancied you might have. Will you speak to her your self, or shall I?" Before Maskelyne could reply Angela herself appeared at the edge of her favor ite pine wood-at the identical spot, if anybody had known it, at which O'Rourke had been detected by Dobroski in the act of embracing the pretty widow. Maske lyne raised his hat and Angela came for ward to meet them. "I will speak for myself," said the lover in an undertone, "if you will allow me." "Of course," replied the major, "of course." He began to beam with triumph and complacency. Angela, blushing and pale by turns, walked toward them at so slow a pace that Maskelyne thought her reluc tant. She shook hands with enforced smile. "You have finished your business in England?" she asked. "Welcome to Iou foy." "Look here, Maskelyne," said the ma jor; "you'll excuse me for just a minute, I know." With that he turned tail and bolted triumphantly, and Maskelyne stood holding the girl's hand in his own. She made a little attempt to withdraw it, but he insisted on retaining it, and she let it rest. "I had no business in England," said Maskelyne; "but I was afraid to come back." "Afraid?" "I don't know how I found the cour age to come at all," he answered. "But I had to come." Angela made another little movement to withdraw her 'hand. but he held it still. "Miss Butler, I love you; and I am here to ask you if you will be my wife." Miss Butler bent her head and said nothing; but he was not to be beaten now by anything short of sheer defeat. "I never thought of marriage until I saw you," he pursued; "and if you say no, I'll go away at once, and be no more trouble to you. I'm a worthless good for-nothing sort of a fellow, and I've never done anything but loaf about and spend other people's earnings; but I think I should be a better man if you took me in hand. If I didn't believe so I should be too much ashamed to dare to ask you. Will you try me, Miss Butler? I should have one merit. I don't believe anybody was ever so dear to anybody else as you are to me." Still Miss Butler bent her head and said nothing. He took her hand in both his own. "Angela," he said, "do you send me away again? Am I to go back?" "No," said Angela, in an almost inaudi ble whisper. CHAPTER XX. The question of settlements took the whole party to London, and in London Angela called upon the Farleys. Lucy was delighted with the news of the ap proaching marriage. She and Angela were very confidential together, and suit ed each other perfectly. Lucy had taken a peculiar and tender interest in the young woman's love affairs, and had brought her husband to a quarrel with his oldest friend concerning them. It was hardly in nature that O'Rourke should be left out of their talk. "I saw from the very first that Mr. Maskelyne cared for you," said Lucy; "and I thought you cared for him. But I was afraid at one time that you would lose each other. The course of true love does not always run smooth, and Mr. Maskelyne is very delicate and rather self-distrustful. "It was my own fault," said Angela, with a blush, "if we were in danger of misunderstanding each other." "No, my dear," returned Lucy, with gentle decision. "It was the fault of a third person. Poor little Mrs. Spry ought to be saved from that mercenary wretch." It was not easy to see what could be done but to leave the patriot to his base triumph and the poor little widow to her inevitable sufferings. But it happened that when Angela had gone away, Fra ser strolled in; and since Fraser had be gun to hate O'Rourke, nothing had pler.3 ed him so much as to talk about his enemy. He talked about him now, and Lucy, who was full of the new proof of O'Rourke's wickedness, related it, binding Fraser to solemn secrecy. "You see," she said, "that nothing can be done; but everythingsbhois how badly he .has acted.' Nobody can tell lrs. Spry. You know perhaps what women are, Mr. Fraser. They dwe very : blind about tese things, and they do not thank anybody wl trier to open their eri. I would only .te her very unhappy, ad*. she would still g on her own- wt~i.' "'Tis like enough," said Fraser, bet ho smiled ineffably, and shook his head with a wonderful blending of complacen cy and pity. "Where's the poor deluded thing livin'?" he asked, smilingly. Lucy told him, and he wagged his head up and down, this time with a smile that had a suggestion of anticipatory triumph in it. Very shortly afterward he took his leave, and all the way home he smiled. Home reached, he sat down at his desk and wrote this letter: "My Dear Madame-If I leave this let ter unsigned it is not because I desire to shelter myself behind the shield of dark ness which the writer of libel occasionally finds useful. It is because I know enough of human dature to be aware of the fact. that an unsigned communication is al ways read and remembered. If you will show this to Mr. Hector O'IRourke--if you feel that your happiness in any way depends upon it-why-he resigned his pretensions to the hand of Miss Butler, of Hou:foy, near Janenne. Ask him why he quarreled with his friend MIr. Maskelyne, and why he does not repay that gentle man the money he owes him. Ask him who wrote this letter, and why the writer is Hs Imphtcable Enemy." "Postscriptum.-You may tell Mr. O'Rourke that if be chooses to seek an exposure in the law courts, I shall not shridik from the ordeal, or deny my hand writing, which he knows as well as I know him. You may ask him what that means, also." "I'll teach the stieaking villain to. play false with me," said Fraser. "There's nothing sneaking in that, anyway," he added, surveying his own work admiring ly. And with this conclusion he walked out and with his own hands posted the letter. Mrs. Spry had taken, for what -re mained of the season, a small furnished house in Park Lane. Fraser had written and posted his letter on a Wednesday af ternoon, and on the evening of that same Wednesday Mrs- Spry had been dressed with unusual care and splendor. She had dined alone rather early, and after din ner had surrendered herself to the hands of her maid with full intent to look her best, for she was certain to meet I ector in the course of the evening, and(l was quite resolved to eclipse any possible rival. While she was at the very flush of these fancies her maid brought her Fra ser's letter. If the writer of the letter had konown what he was dong he would certainly have spared her, for though he was thick-skinned, and upon occasion thick-headed enough, he was by no means a brute, and only a brute could willfully anid knowingly have tortured anything, as Fraser now tortured his enemy's fiancee. He had shot his arrow at his foe without so much as thinking that it must pass through this feeble and tender bosom before it could reach him. Mrs. Spry read the letter with a help less terror and dismay. Her little white teeth clicked with hysteric passion, and her little white hands clinched and shook before her so dreadfully that the maid was scared, and retreated before her. She cast herself anew upon the couch with all her costly finery crumpled and disar ranged, and cried herself into a mood of stony disregard for everything. It took nearly an hour to do this, and by the time it was done the big eyes were all puffed and swollen, and her cheeks were scalded with tears. "When," gasped the little woman final ly-"when did this come?" "This afternoon, madam," responded the maid, "Order the carriage !" cried Mrs. Spry, hastily gathering her opera cloak, fan and glasses in a reckless handful. She snatched the letter from the table and faced the maid, panting. "The carriage is waiting," the maid replied; "but really, ma'am-" (To n. continued.) All She Had. In the absence of his wife and the illness of the servant, Mr. Taylor un dertook to help three-year-old Marjory to dress. He had succeeded in getting her arma in the sleeves and through the armholes of her garments. and had buttoned het into them. Then he told her to put on her shoes herself, and he would button them. He soon discovered that she was vainly striving to put a left shoe on her right foot. "Why, Marjory," he said, impatient ly, "don't you know any better than than? You are putting your shoes on the wrong feet." "Dey's all de foots I dot, papa," re plied Marjory, tearfully. German and Other Warships. The revelation of the general trend of naval policy in the United States, Great Britain and Japan toward unpar alleled concentration of fighting power in colossal ships has been unwelcome in Germany, because the policy of con struction followed in the case of re cent American, British and Japanese ships bids fair to render the German navy obsolescent long before even the scheme of augmentation passed in 190)0 is actually complete.-Cassier's Maga zine. The Village GoaMups. Silas Hardacre--Yes, every Tuesday and Thursday night is "rip.ing-up night" with the Ladies' Sewing S,ocial in this town. City Drummer-Indeed! And what do they rip up? Silas Hardapple-Carpet rags, pedi grees and the absent members. In After Years. Anxious Mother-Little Bobbie cries for the moon every night. I don't know what to do about it Old Doctor--Oh, he'll outgrow that in time. When he grows up he will forget the moon and wairt the earth. Bobbs-Did the prisoner really smite when the -judge: sentenced 'him -to :ten years in the penitentiary? Dobbs- yes; he lived 'flfteen' fhi a boarding 'house. ~4$.- -' EM SUGAR e rae. Svemaeyee YVitim of Aest. Indttge. tiean 'oewtIag Dnuae:. fenry O. Heavemeyer, the sugar kia& lied at his country home on Long aI1 and, heart failure harlng resulted from an attack of acute indigestion which followed his dinner. M r. Havemeyer was 60 years of age . and was directly de scended from the founder of the com pany which eventu r. o. HAVEMTE.S. ally became the principal factor in the Sugar Trust. When he -was 18 years old he went into the refineries at Williamsburg to take up the practi cal work; thence went to the mercan tile department, and at the agd of 22 was admitted to partnership. He de voted himself to the Interests of the house, thoroughly mastered its mercan tile side, made a study of production and markets, and in a few years found himself practically the manager of the concern, which had by that time grown to enormous proportions. Foreseeing even greater possibilities in the union of the sugar refining firms throughout the country, mainly through his efforts a combination of fifteen of the princi pal sugar dealers was effected. This so-called "Sugar Trust" falling under the ban of the courts, a new and more sweeping change was made by consoli dating, all the various companies into a single great corporation. This was done on January 12, 1891, by the incor poration of the American Sugar Re fineries Company in the State of New Jersey. The capitalization of the cor poration, originally $50,000,000, was later increased to $75,000,000, to allow of the purchase of four sugar compan ies in Philadelphia. Henry O. Have meyer was at first only vice president, but eventually became president HIavemeyer lived in a fine mansion in East Sixty-sixth street, New York, and also maintained a residence at Greenwich, Conn., where he gave the town a magnificent $250,000 public schoolhouse. The place where he died --.enlvale--was his favorite retreat when he needed rest and seclusion. The house on the place is a small stone lodge, unpretentious on the outside, but handsomely furnished. It was always kept ready for his visits. The estate comprises fnore than 300 acres, only a part of which is kept cleared and used for breeding purposes, while the wilder part is stocked with quail and imported game birds. SHavemeyer was an officer in eleven other mammoth corporations besldeo the Sugar Trust. His wealth was estl. mated at $70,000,000. Secret Worth Learning. "You poor man," said Mr. Henpeck, who was for the first time seeing the anside of a lunatic asylum, ".how long have you been here? Can you remem ber ?" "Oh, yes; very well," replied the pa tient; "seven years. You see, they let me do pretty near as I please because I'm harmless." "Are you married?" "Sure, I have a wife who used to throw things at me every time I came In the house." "How sad. Do you know how she manages to live?" "She's getting along all right, Her brother, who is a rich bachelor, is tak In' care of her. He never would give up a cent, though, as long as I was able to work, confound him." "And what do you do here?" "Sit around mostly, smokin' and waitln' for the next meal time." "Say," said the visitor, speaking softly, and drawing a little nearer to the patient, "just between ourselves, how did you get them to send yov here ?"--Chicago Record-Herald. Chinese Musio. -The Chinese have eight instruments for making their ritual music-the bell, the flute, ithe drum, the sonorous stone, the fife, the plume, the shield and the ax. The last three make no music, but are used as decoration or emblem in the musical ceremonies and are enu merated as musical instruments. In every ceremony there are always two instruments of each kind, sometimes as many as four or six, never an odd num ber, in order to emphasize the duality of the Chinese people. For instance, one drum announces the beginning of the music, and its mate strikes the last note: one bell calls, and its counter part answers. Mistaken. Inquiring Friend-I understand your husband is afflicted with appendicitls, Mrs. Cumup? Mrs. Cumup-'Taln't nothin' of the kind. His sight is just as good as ever it was. There's something wrong 'itb his innards.-Toledo Blade. An Extre4nlat. "He's a great reformer, isn't her? "Oh, he's worse than a reformer. His ideas would upset the whole social and business worlds ;He said if he had his way he'd put in jail everybody who ought to be there."-Philadelphla Press Didn't Know. "What became of the young man yor used to go with?" "I don't know." "I heard a rumor that he died." "He did."-Houston Post. Advice. We often sneer because the man who has failed is always loudest witi good advice. As a matter of fact, what man is better qualified to give good advice? -Detroit Free Press. ehake the hand of some men ani y~o shhke a secret out of them. NEW RIGS-NEW DRIVERS Swanton's Livery WM. J. SWANTON, PROpP. Phone 17, Second Street. Open Day and Night H-avre - - - Montana Pioneer Meat Company L. K. DEVLIN, Pres. F. B. BROWN, Vice Pres. Wholesale and Retail Dealers in FRESH AND SALT MEATS POUI0TRY AND FISH Get Your Bath -AT THE Havre Steam Laundry Leave your Laundry and have it ready for your next bathJ MARBLEANDORANITE MONUMENTS. Coping Mantels Cut Stone Iron Fence Slate Vaults Printed Designs and Estimates furinishcd on anything in the Monumental Line. No job too small, none too large. Havre Monumental Works B. E. GREEN, Proprietor. A popular resort for a ey A popular beverage, A popular cigal for P.ni e ... A popular price. Where All the Popular People Come for an Hour's Recreation. The buyer of a R]emington Typewriter , expects good service-and gets' it. Remington Typewriter Co. 327 Broad'way, New York. '