The San Francisco call. [volume], December 06, 1903, Image 8

About The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913

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"Rioters in possession: have run
car out of town. Send police to head
them; off." ,* / ,\ -¦ ¦- • • •
'Amy" | Morgan -sat In ; .' the auditor's
office, receiving the ''reports V as each
car returned from its trip to the lake,
her -. enthusiasm" prising- as-the after
noon^, waned: * - : At' : '6.'p'clock the; cars
were i to- be. turned- back" to the com
pany, arid 'it; waff, .just 5:i!0 : when the
telephone in the superintendent's room
rang ,.\ylth, that; peculiar Insistence,
which presages trouble. . . V
".Riot imminent at,Dpb3on3 Corner,"
was the news.' "Gang of toughs' have
taken possession of car-No. 527; motor
mp.n; thrown' off ;M>adly injured." ;- v '
"Don't : tell Amy,", was* her father's
first' ord6r. t as he closed j the door lead
ing. Into the /auditor's .room, i He had
been at hi3' daughter's elbow all after
noon. . : :
of- the Altar Guild ¦ will have charge
of the v.ork, and will act as conductors
during the- afternoon. -Individuals >vho
wlll.notfind it convenient to patronize
the road \ oh . that day .' may send
checks,, payable to Miss Amy Morgan,
treasurer of the' guild." ' . ." ' • ¦'>"..•«"¦'..
'And It certainly "seemed when ;the
afternoon ¦: arrived ; - that all CentervMe
was bound -for Lake View. The super
intendent ¦• "arid his assistants held', a
irurried- conference, and^.it .was decided
that .•• the ,' regular, conductoj-s. who had
anticipated a dayoff, shbuld be;,pr.essed
into * service .to -assist .-;'• the-,' .'young
women acting as conductors/:' and 'an
emergency call was -scnt^out for the
men to report at once." ' : * '• "¦'¦'• ' ¦
Without a . word ; she held out her
hands,- and he drew her" close with his
dusty ' blue : coat - sleeve around her
dainty.- summer gown, and : bis ¦. classic
features,- still v grimy from the terrific
onslaught and ride, hidden in her soft,
chestnut- hair. 1
"Are a • very , good pair, to draw to.
Amy, i It " was , the ; only, way ' to • win- you
—and now,- 1 £ want -my .* promised re
ward."';: . ... « ;' s ' . .
They were standing in her father's
private , office, screened from the ex
cited throngs in the yards, but her
father had Suddenly disappeared.' Sha
looked at hl3 r vacant chair, then " back
to young: Watklns', ; dancing eyes.
"He • knew— you— two" .
"I meant to offer you . something
better as the fruits of rhy # apprentice
ship in your father's trade' than a dis
abled car and 'two victims of mv old
lessons in bag-punching. But Fate has
her own v/ay of. pushing the good
work on." , ".
"I ' never! : knew that Fate could be
so kind," father." ' ¦ ,
.We've been using -him extra. He can
handle the car if*he don't lose his
head." . v' . ~ '¦'"•¦
Mr. Morgan . looked relieved, but
there was no keeping It; from Amy.
Long* before the car could be heard
tearing_.dovvn , thef. incline leading to
the. barns she. had read trouble in the
faces, around, her and demunded the
truth. So s-he stood with straining
gaze and tight clasped hand, as the
great ' motor car "used for suburban
seryide , came plungiftg into view. I On
the .fro r).t . platform .stood a . slender,
girlish ligure, waving her hat' as, a
signal . of their safety. Bsside, her.
with: his aim on the' gleamitig ' brass
crank, stood a stalwart, bare-headed
man. On the floor of the car lay.
prone." and.^silent, two battered toughs.
The rest had been dropped along the
line. A gesticulating:,.. shouting crowd
Oi. employes surrounded the car as it
pulled up with 'u jerk, but Amy saw
just one figure in the dramatic picture,
the man /.vho bent with calm, smiling
eyes above the. brass crank. ¦
FOR LOVE OF AMY
A. S. Richardson
The flooring was loose in the corner,
and plank by. plank the two savants
raised it and leaned It against the wall.
Below there was a square aperture
and a stair of old stone steps which led
away down Into the bowels of the
earth.
"I had some very narrow escapes at
first, but I have gradually learned to
go about. There Is a certain system
to it, but it is one which a lost man.
if he were in the dark, could not pos
sibly find out. Even now I always spin
out a ball, of string behind me when I
am going far. Into the catacomb. You
can see for yourself that it is difficult.
but every one of these passages divide
and subdivide a dozen times before you
go a hundred yards. ? Follow- me close
ly. Do not < loiter to look at' anything .
upon the way, for, the place which . I.
will take' you to contains all that you*
can see and more. It will save time
for Us to go 'there: direct." • - ¦ ¦, i
< He led the way down one of the cor-,
rldors, and : the Englishman .- followed •
closely : at ' his heels. t Every .now and.
then thie passage bifurcated, but "Bur-*
ger was evidently following some secret
"Not. he. iHe had found one or two
objects k whlch. made me almost certain
that .his -house was built on the en
trance to such a place. So I rented it
from him, and did my excavations my
self." Come in 'and shut the door be
hind you." '• >-v
It was a long, empty building, with
the mangers of the cows along one
wall.- . Burger put his lantern down ou
the ground, and shaded its light in all
directions pave one by draping his over
coat around it.
"It might excite remark if any one
saw a light in this lonely place." said
he. "Just help me to move this board
ing. " BSPS
'.'The entrance to it is. That is Just
the safeguard which we have against
any- one '.else discovering it."
¦ "Does the proprietor know of it?"
"Not such;.' a fool. By Jove! I am
chilled to the bone. Come on. Burger.
lei us v.-arm outselves by* a spurt of
hard- walking.",
He : had lit his lantern, and by its
light they ' Were enabled to follow a
narrow and devious track which wound
across the marches of Campana. The
great aqueduct of old Rom* lay like
a monstrous caterpillar across the
moonlit landscape, and their road ltd
them under one of the huge arches.
and past the circle of crumbling bricks
which marks the old arena. At last
Burger stopped at a solitary wooden
cowhouse, and he drew a key from his
pocket. ,
"Surely your catacomb is not inside
a house!'* cried Kennedy.
present. You will find me at the Gale
at twelve."
The cold, clear air was filled with the
musical chimes from that city of clocks
as Burger, wrapped in an Italian over-
coat, with 'a lantern hanging from his
hand/walked, up to the rendezvous.
Kennedy, stepped out of the shadow to
meet him.
"You are ardent in work as well as
In love," said the German, laughing.
"Yes; I have been waiting here for
nearly an hour." -. . ' "
"I hope you left no clew as to where
we were soing?" . '. :
"Certainly," said the German, gath
ering up .his basket, of curiosities,
"when he .tells anything about -a girl
which is previously unknown he must
be bo.- But" in this case, as you must
be aware, it was a public matter,
•which: was the .common .talk of
Rome, bo that you are not really doing
Miss Mary Saunderson any " injury • by
\dlscussing her case with me. .But 6tlll
I respect your scruples, and so good
night." : ' ..
"Wait a. bit. Burger." Bald Kennedy,
laying his hand upon the other's arm.
"I am very keen upon this catacomb
business, and I -can't let- ir-droo" so
easily. Would you mind asking me
Bomething else in return — something
cot quite eo eccentric this time?" -
"No, no. You have refused, and there
!s an end of it.", said Burger, .with his
basket on his arm.- "No -doubt— you
nre quite right also, and eo again, my
dear Kennedy, good-night."- • •
The Englishman watched , Burger.
cross the room, and he had. his. hand
on the handle of the door before his'
host sprang up with the air of a' man
who is making the best, of that which
cannot be helped. * . •
"Hold on. old fellow."., said he. "I
think you are behaving In a most ridic
ulous fashion; but still If 'this is your
condition I suppose that .1 must sub
mit to it. I hate saying anything about'
a glrl/f but, as you say, -it Is all over
Rome,' and I don't suppose I can tell
you anything which you do not know
already. What was it you wanted to
know?" c
The German came back to the stove,
and, laying down his basket, he sank
into his chair once more. . .
"May I have another cigar?" said he.
"Thank you very much. I never smoke
•when I work, but I enjoy a chat much
more when I am under the influence
of tobacco. Now, as regards this young
lady with whom you had this little'ad
venture. What In the world has be
come of her?"
"She Is at home In England with her
own people.**
"What part of England. London?"
•
(Copyright by MeClure, Phillips & Co.)
KENNEDY sat thinking, with his
fine forehead wrinkled and his
fingers playing with his Ions,
lair mustache.
"You have given yourself away. Bur
ger," raid he at last. "Your words can
only apply to one thing. You have dis
covered a new catacomb."
"Quite so. There is no mystery about
that. I have discovered a new cata
comb."
•Where?"
"Ah, that is rny secret, my deer Ken
nedy. SuSce It that it is so situated
that there is not one chance in a mil
lion of any one else coming upon it.
Its date is different from that of any
known catacomb, and it has been re
served fur the burial of the highest
•Christians, so that the remains and the
relics ore quite different from anything
which has ever been seen before."
Kennedy loved his subject with a
love which was almost a mania — a
love which held him true to it amidst
all the distractions which come to a
wealthy and dissipated young man.
"Look here. Burger," eaid he earnest
ly. "1 assure you that you can trust me
most implicitly in the matter."
Burger smiled thoughtfully over his
cigar.
"I have noticed, friend Kennedy."
said he, " that when I want informa
tion over any point you are not al
ways eo ready to supply It."
"What you are driving at I cannot
imagine," said the Englishman: "but
if you mean that you will answer my
question about the catacomb if I an
swer any question which you may put
to me, I assure you that I will cer
tainly do bo."
"Well, then," said Burger, leaning
luxuriously back in his settee and puf
fing a blue tree of cigar smoke into
the air, "tell me all about your rela
tions with Miss Mary Saunderson."
Kennedy sprang up in his chair and
glared angrily at his impassive com
panion.
"What the devil do you mean?" he
cried. "What sort of a question is this?
You may mean it as a joke, but you
never made a worse one."
"No. I don't mean It as a Joke." said
Burger, simply. "I am really rather
Interested in the details of the matter.
I don't know much about the world
and women and social life and that
sort of thing, and such an incident
has the fascination of the unknown for
me. I know you and I know her by
eight — I had even spoken to her once
or twice. I ehould .very much like to
bear from your own lips exactly what
It was which occurred between you."
"I won't tell you a word."
"That's all right..* It -.was -.only my.
whim to see if you. would give up a se-.
eret as easily *as 'you expected me to
give up my secret of the new cata
comb. 'You "'wouldn't, and I didn't ex
pect you *,to. But why should you ex
pect -otherwise of me? There's St.
John's clock Btrlklng ten. It Is ' auite ,
timeVl was going home."
*JNo; wait a bit. Burger." said Ken-'
ne4y: "this, is really,- a ridiculous ca
price of yours to wish to know about
an old love affair which has burned out
months ago.' *You know we look upon
a man -who -kisses and tells as the
greatest coward and villain possible."
"No. Twickenham."
"You must excuse my curiosity, my
dear Kennedy, and you must put it
down to my ignorance of the world.
No doubt it is quite a simple thing to
persuade a young lady to go off with
you for three weeks or so. and then
10 hand her over to her own family at —
what did you call the place?"
"Twickenham."
"Quite so— at Twickenham. But it
is something so entirely -outside of my
own experience that I cannot even im
agine how you set about it. For ex
ample, if you had loved, this girl, your
love could hardly disappear in three
v.eeks, so I presume that you could not
have loved her at all. But if you did
not love her, why should you make this
great scardal, which has damaged you
and ruined her?"
Kennedy looked moodily into the red
eye of the stove.
"That's a logical way of looking at it.
certainly," said he. "Love is a big
word, and it represents a good many
aifferent shades of feeling I liked her
and — well, you say you have seen her —
you know how charmingly she could
look. But still I am willing to admit,
looking back, that I could never have
really loved her."
"Then, my dear Kennedy, why did
you do it?"
"The adventure of the thine had a
great deal to do with it."
"What! Are you so fond of adven
tures!"
'Where would the variety of life be
without them? It was for an adven
ture that I first began to pay my at
tention to her. I've chased a trood der.1
of game in my time, but there's no
chase like that of a pretty woman.
There was the piquant difficulty of it,
also, for, as she was the companion
of Lady Emily Rood, it was almost im
possible to see her alone. On the too
of all the other obstacles which at
tracted me, I learned from her own lips
very early in the proceeding that she
was engaged." -*,-::¦
"Mein Gott! To whom?"
"She mentioned no name."
"I do not think that any one knows
that. So that made the adventure more
alluring, did it?"
"Well, it did certainly give a spice to
it. Don't you think so?"
"I tell you that I am very Ignorant
about these things."
"My dear fellow, you can remember
that the apple you stole from your
neighbor's tree . was always sweeter
than that which. fell from your ovrn.
And then I found that she cared for
me."
"What— at once?"
"Oh. no; it took about three months
of sapping and mining. But at last I
won her over. She understood that un
judicial separation from iny wife made
it impossible for me to do the right
thing by her— but she came, all the
tame, and we had a delightful time as
long as It lasted."
"But how about the other man?"
Kennedy shrugged his shoulders.
"I suppose it is the survival of the
fittest," said he. "If he had been the
better man she would not have deserted
him. Let's drop the subject, for I have
had enough of it."
"Only, one other thing. How did you
get rid of her in' three weeks?"
"Well, we had both cooled down a bit.
you understand.- -She absolutely re
fused, under any circumstances, to
come back to face the people she had
known in Rome. Now, of course. Rpme
is necessary to me. and I was already
pining to be back at my work*— so there
was an obvious cause for separation.
Then, again, her old father turned up
at the hotel in London, and there was
a scene, and the whole thing became
so unpleasant that really— though I
missed ' her dreadfully at first— I was
very glad to slip out of It. Npw. Irely
upon you not to repeat anything of
what I have said.''.
"My dear Kennedy. I should * not
dream of repeating it. But all' that; you
say " Interests me very ? much. • for It
gives -me an Insightr Into your. waVof
looking &t things, .which is entirely; dif
ferent from mine, for. I\have»seen. so
little. of life. »«And t now; you' want- to
know about my new- catacomb. There's
no use of my trying to describe iU for
you .would jaevec find .it, by. that. There
is only one thing for me to do. -and
that is for me to'. take you- there."" -
"That would be splendid:" ¦?"'
" "When ' would -you like to come?" '
- "The sooner, the better.^ I am all im
patience, to see it.".- ; - v .
."Well, it is a beautiful nigh*— though
ai trifle ¦ cq'.d. £ Suppose . we start *itr y an
hour. We must be very careful to keep
the matter s to ourselves.", If [any one
saw us hunting In couples they would
suspect that there was something go
ing. on."- • ,-"• ¦ '.
"We can't be ioo cautious," said Ken
nedy. "Is it far?" /
* "Some miles."
"Not tco far. to walk?"
"Oh, no; we could walk there easily."
"We had better do so then. A cab
man's suspicions would be aroused if
he dropped us both at some lonely spot
in the dead of night."
"Quite so. I think it would be best
for us to meet at the Gate of the Ap
plan Way-at midnight I must go back
to my lodgings for the matches; and.
candies and things."
"All right, Burger. , I think it is very
kind of you to let me. Into this secret,
and I promise you that I ¦ will write
nothing about it until you have pub
lished your report. Good-by for the
(Copyright, 1903, by A. S. Richardson.)
Harry Watklns did not chance, his
lazy, easy position stretched at Amy
Morgan's ' feet, but his voice was
strangely tense and earnest.
"No. That would be airplay and no
work, and men weary Vf all play as
well as all work."
"That is the first time I ever heard '
that it was mere child's play to please
a woman and make her contented."
His tone was bantering, ; but Amy's '
face did riot soften with : mirth. .
"You do not understand.,! must mar
ry a man who. I think, { is a stronger
nature than myself— a man to whom
I can look up. - My father, like, most
self-made men, has his rough edges,
but he commands" a • certain - respect ;
which I want to give to' ray husband.
He is so completely. the master of the'
situation. He did not buy his position
as president of the Consolidated .Inter-'
urban Railway. He earned it step by'
step, from the day when he was first
given a car to oil."
* Harry Watklns was not smiling now.
His eyes were narrowing to a mere slit#
of clear gray, and his glance was fixed
on ; the.; Berkshire hills rising ' magnifi
cently on their. right, bathed now | in
richest September sunset. Suddenly he !
turned and took both of her slim,
graceful hands in his.
"Amy"— it was the fir^t- time he had
ever used her first name. . and her -
hands ' trembled slightly in his— "Amy.
dear, if I ever should come to you '
with the fruits of genuine effort In my
hands, could you — ?"
And looking Into . her smiling , eyes
he read the answer he wanted, v
It came out in huge black type:
- ."Our generous townsman: 'James
Forbes Morgain,, president of the Con
solidated . Interurban Railway, has
granted to } the : young -/ women of St.
James Church the use of his road . to
Lake View for the afternoon of July
4;, the proceeds - from carfares , to be
donated ' to the victims of ! the Cherry
Hill Mine disaster. The woung women
/ i
Some two months afterward the fol
lowing paragraph made the round of
the European press:
"One of the most Interesting discov
eries of recent years 13 that of the new
catacomb in Rome, which lies some dis
tance to the east of the well-known
vaults of St. Calixtus. The finding of
this Important burial place, which 13
exceedingly rich in most interesting
early Christian remains. Is due to the
energy and sagacity of Dr. Julius Eur
ger, the ycung German specialist, who
is rapidly taking the rirst place as -an
authority upon ancient Rome. Al
though the first to publish his discov
ery, it appears that a less fortunate
adventurer had anticipated Dr. Burger.
Some months ago Mr. Kennedy, the
well-known English student, dis
appeared suddenly from his rooms in
the Corso, and it was conjectured that
his association with a recent scandal
had driven him to leave Rome. It now
appears that he had in reality fallen a
victim of "that fervid love of arche
ology.which had raised him to a dis
tinguished place among living scholars.
His body was discovered in the heart of
the new catacomb, and it was evident
from the condition of his feet and boots
that he had tramped for days through
the tortuous corridors which make
these subterranean tombs so dangerous
to explorers. The deceased gentleman
had. with Inexplicable rashness, made
his way into this labyrinth without, as
far as can be discovered, taking with
him either candles or matches, so that
his sad fate was the natural result of
his own temerity. What makes the
matter more painful is that Dr. Julius
Burger was an Intimate friend of the
deceased. His joy at the extraordinary
find .which be has been so fortunate
as to % make has been greatly marred by
the terrible fate of his comrade and fel
low worker."
"If it were not for thla string which.
I hold in my hand I should not have a
notion which way to go."
"I dare say not. Strike- a light. f«",
and have an end to this nonsense."
"Well. Kennedy, there are two things
¦which I understand that you are very
fond of. The one is an adventure, and.
the other is an obstacle to surmount.
The adventure must be the finding of
your way out of this catacomb. The
obstacle will be the darkness and tha
two thousand wrong turns which make
the way a little difficult to find. But
you need not hurry, for you have plenty
of time, and when you halt for a rest
now and then I should like you Just
to think of Miss Mary Saunderson. and
whether you treated her quite fairly."
"You devil— what do you mean?"
roared Kennedy. He was running
about In little circles and clasping at
the solid blackness with both hands.
"Good-by," said the mocking voice,
and it was already at some distance.
"I really do not think. Kennedy, even
by your own showing, that you did the
right thing by that girl. There was
only one little thing which you ap
peared not to know, and I can supply
it. Miss Saunderson was engaged to a
poor, ungainly devil of a student, and
his name was Julius Burger."
There was a rustle somewhere, the
vague sound of a foot striking a stone,
and then there fell silence upon that
old Christian church— a stagnant, heavy
silence which closed round Kennedy
and shut him in like water round a
drowning man.
"And the darkness is something
dreadful* I tried it once for an experi
ment. Let us try it again!" He stooped
to the lantern, and in an instant It was
as if an invisible hand was squeezed
tightly over each of Kennedy's eyes.
Never had he known what such dark
ness was. It seemed to press upon
him and to smother him. It was a solid
obstacle against which the body shrank
from advancing. He put his hands out
to push It back from him.
"That will do. Burger." said he. •'Let
us have the light again." ]
But his companion began to laugh,
and in that circular room the sound
seemed to come from every side at once.
"You seem uneasy, friend Kennedy,"
said he.
"Go on, man. light the candle!" said
Kennedy, impatiently.
"It's very strange. Kennedy, but I
could not in the least tell by the sound
In which direction you stand. Could
you tell where I am?"
"No; you seem to be on every side
of me."
"Do you know how many wrong
turnings there are between this and
the stairs?" he asked. "There are over
two thousand. No doubt it was one of
the means of protection which the
Christians adopted. The odds are two
thousand to one against a man srettinsr
out, even if he had a light; but if he
were in the dark it would, of course,
be far more difficult."
"So I ehould think."
"Precisely," said Burger. "If I had
more time I should like to show you
all the bodies which are burled in thesa
niches upon the walls, for they are tha
early Popes and Bishops of the church,
with their miters, their erozlera and
full canonicals. Go over to that one
and look at it!"
Kennedy went across, and stared at
the ghastly head which lay loosely on
the shredded and molderlng miter.
"This is most interesting." said he.
and his voice seemed to boom against
the concave vault. "As far as my ex
perience goes, it is unique. Bring the
lantern over, Burger, for I want to see
them alL"
But the German had strolled away,
end was standing in the middle of a
yellow circle of light at the other sida
of the hall.
"By Jove!** cried Kennedy in an ecs
tasy, as Burger swung his lantern ovtr
the marble. "It is a Christian altar
pro bably the first ono in existence. Her*
is the little consecration cross cut upon
the corner of It. No doubt this circu
lar space was used as a church."
marks of his own. for he neither
stopped nor hesitated.
"What would happen if the light went
out?" Kennedy asked, as they hurried
onward.
¦ "I have a spare candle and a box of
matches in my pocket. By tha way,
Kennedy, have you any matches?"
"No. You had better give me some.'*
"Oh. that's all right. There is no
chance of our separating."
"How far are we going? It seems to
me that we have walked at least *
Quarter of a mile."
"More than that, I think. There is
really no limit to the tombs — at least.
I hav* never been able to find any.
This is a very difficult place, so I thlnJc
that I will use our ball of string."
He fattened one end of it to a project
ing stone and he carried the coil in
the breast of his coat, paying it out
as he advanced. Kennedy saw that It
was no unnecessary precaution, for tha
passages had become more complex and
tortuous than ever, with a perfect net
work of Intersecting corridors. But
these all ended in one large circular
hall with a square pedestal of tufa
topped with a slab of marble at one
end of It.
THE SUNDAY CAMi.
So thQ car- was - for Center
ville, that was one ¦ 'comfort, but there
¦were ;.ugly • curves i to : make and ,.two
sharp inclines, /which unaccustomed
hands .unsteady i< from liquor might
fail to aecompltsh.yprobably -.few pas
sengers were on board* but t there was
the, pretty girlish In char/re.
Jessica Wallace, one of Amy's : dearest
friends. Anxiety .was written on every.
face.; ; ¦';,'-;.. ;,._, .-",;. '/'_ .; , . ¦
"What conductor . is helping out
Miss Wallace?"
' "Watson ; that new chap ' who has
been working in the repair shop.
THE NEW CATACOMB
8