BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. « mm THE DEFENCE, FERGUS HUME, Author of “The j^Vystery of a Hansom Cab,” “Madame Midas,” “The Queer Sjtory of Adam Lind,” “The Lone Inn,” “The Masquerade Mystery,” “A Marriage Mystery,” ,‘The Carbuncle Clue,” &c., &c. COPR1GHTED, 1897, BY FERGUS HUME. (Continued.) CHAPTER XXI.—A NINE DAYS’ WONDER. Great was the astonishment through out the neighborhood when it became known that Dr. Etwald, the clever phy sician, of Deanminster, had been ar rested on a double charge of murder and theft of a dead body. Those who did not like him—and they were the majority—rejoiced openly that the as sassin of Maurice Aylmer had been found in Etwald’s person; but there wras some who regretted that so bril liant a man should be consigned to a felon’s cell, and—possibly in the here after—to a felon’s doom. But what ever opinions, for or against the pris oner, were held by the good people of Deanminster and the surrounding neighborhood, there was no doubt of one thing: the trial of Max Etwald at the Assizes would be the great sensa tion of the year. Major Jen worked hard to procure evidence against the prisoner, and Da vid Sarby worked just as hard to ob tain material for the defense. The at titude taken up by the young barrister astonished everyone, and was univer sally condemned. That he—who might almost be called the brother .,of the dead man—should defend the assas sin of such brother, was almost incred ible of belief. People were astonished and angered by the very idea, and when that idea beoame known to be an ac tual fact the conduct of David was dis approved on every side. Only one man said nothing, and that man was the very person who had the best right to speak. While all talked Maj. Jen re mained silent. Hi s reticence on the subject caused almost as much scandal as David’s inexplicable conduct. Yet Jen knew what he was about, and he was acting merely in accordance with an agreement which he had made with Sarby. After that memorable in terview in the library, when Etwald was accused and arrested, Arkel took away his prisoner in custody by vir tue of the warrant, and left Major Jen alone with the counsel for the de fence. The assassin, so-called, and In spector Arkell left the room: they left the house. When the sound of Et waid’s carriage—for he went to Dean minster Gaol in his own broughman— had died away in the distance, Jen, who had hitherto kept silence, raised his head and looked at David. “Well, sir,” he said, in an icy tone to his adopted son. “I am waiting for you to explain this very extraordinary conduct. / David replied in equally 'as cold a manner. explanation tuner. t “Major Jen \ have no exi ^Ijgyou.” J **c i r-1 hi q rvn:u,(1 in? K-e to sit there and tell me ■re a traitor, a coward, an ■man?” fcr,” echoed David, wit}^ a tu hid v urrnn. M HsiW A traitor to your*foster was was your riva> se MaurVe loved the wernan who r«s you thaX^you act th4 unworthy rt of defending his mvrtierer.” “Very good, Major. I understand why I am a traitor. But a coward?’' “You are a coward in submitting yourself to the influence of this base assassin,” cried Jen, enraged by the calmness of the young man, “and as hfci ungrateful man—do you want an fcplanation of that term?—you whom L I nave iovea ana Drougnt up as my own son?” “No. I can understand your anger from your point of view.” “My point of view! My point of view!” raged Jen, stamping. “From the point of view of the world, sir! What will every one say when they learn that you intend to defend Et pram: T ’‘They will say almost as cruel things US ) uu ua*c otuu, n>uu uvu still composed. “But I do not care for the opinion of the public. I act according to the dictates of my own conscience.” Jen drew back and stared at the young man in angry surprise. “Your own conscience?” he repeated in disdain. “How can you talk in that manner? What excuse can “I have an excellent excuse,” inter rupted David, rising. “What is it, if I may be so bold as to ask?” “I refuse to tell you—at present.” ‘‘Indeed; and am I ever to learn the reason of your extraordinary be havior?” David considered. “Yes, Major,” said he, at length. “You shall learn my reason at—the trial.” “At the trial?” “I shall explain it when I make my speech for the defence.’ “What do you mean?” cried Jon, his curiosity getting the better of his anger, “Is it possible that you believe in the innocence of this man? “As counsel for the defense you will hardly expect me to answer that.” “As your adopted father, I demand an 'answer.” “You shall have it, sir—at the trial.” Thje obstinacy and marvellous com posure the young man were not withouriheir due effect on Major Jen. He drew back, and after a moment's Leonsideration, he spoke in all serious Hfess: ;Daviu, saiu nt? muruj, mwc i» . 1 I_Avf*«AV^inQP\7 1T1 1TA11P FB^IUrimufe J --* — - behavior, and you refuse to give me your reasons therefor. If I wait until the trial will you explain?” “Yes. I have already told you so.. In my speech for the defence you will be fully satisfied that I have good cause to act as I am doing.” “Very good,” said Jen calmly. “Then I shall say nothing to anyone about your curious behavior. I shall work hard to secure the condemnation of this scoundrel. You can do your best to snve him. But against you, or for you, I shall not open my mouth. At the ’trial I shall expect an explanation.” . “You shall have it.” » m “But.” added Jen, raising his head, ■tag until that explanations we are ene gg^tes—although not o[“—'-T -u~" 1 ' -Hitlre you to leavi mly so—I shall hnnsR” ^would do so, ■k his head, other way. in Dean minster and wait for the trial. I shall defend Etwald to the best of my abil ity; and then you can decide »/hether I am tit to re-enter your house.” “I can’t understand you, sir,” said Jen, with a sigh. “Whatever your reasons may be,I feel sure that I shall not approve of them.” “You approved of my reasons be fore, Major. You shall approve of them again. In the meantime, until the i trial, let us remain strangers.” He bowed, and without offering his hand—which it is very probable Major Jen would have refused to take—he left the room. When the door closed the older man sank into a chair and passed his hand across a brow moist with perspiration. “There can be only one explanation,” he muttered, “David is mad.” The result of this conversation was that David took up his residence in Deanminster near to the gaol, and saw Etwald frequently about his de fence. The Doctor assured him that he possessed sufficient power over Dido, by reason of owning the Voodoo Stone, to prevent her from becoming a witness against him. Sarby was sat isfied that if Dido did not appear to give evidence, the case for the prose cution would fall through. She was the only witness of whom the barrister and the prisoner had any fear. On his part Major Jen, together with Arkel, built up a strong case against the man whom they truly believed to be the culprit. Search had been made in Etwald’s house, but no traces of the dead body could be found. Its dis appearance was almost as profound a mystery as the reason which had in duced Etwald to steal it. The reasons for the theft of the devil-stick, for the murder of Maurice, were plain enough; but what had induced the Doctor t# make away with the corpse no one could discover. Etwald himself, even to his counsel, was silent on the sub ject. Arkel had sought out as witnesses against Etwald seven persons. First, Mrs. Dallas, who was to prove that she was hypnotized frequently by Dido. Second, Isabella, who was to depose that before the murder her mother had been sent by Dido to “Ashantee” to steal the devil-stick. Third, Batter sea, who was to give evidence that he had found the devil-stick within the grounds of Mrs. Dallas. Fourth, Lady Meg, who was to prove the offer of Battersea to sell her the stick. Fifth, Major Jen, who could explain the en gagement of the dead man to Miss Dallas, and the rivalry of his assassin. Sixth, Jaggard, whose evidence would i tend to show that Dido had drugged him for the purpose of stealing the body* And seventh, the most import ant witness of all. Dido, who was to impose to the manufacture of the •poison, the refilling of the devil-stick and the giving of it to Dr. Etwald so that he might perpetrate the crime. With these seven witnesses, Jen did not see how Etwald could escape the gallows. “Are you sure that all these people will speak out?’’ asked the Major of Arkel when the list was submitted to him. “I am certain of all save one,” re plied Arkel, in a dissatisfied tone, “and the worst of it is that Dido is the one.” "Does she refuse to give evidence against Etwald?” "I should think so. Simply because he is the holder of the Voodoo Stone.” “Can we force her by threats to give evidence?” said Jen, angrily. “I don’t think so; it wouldn’t be legal,” answered Arkel. “The only chance of getting the negress to con fess the whole truth is for either you or I to gain possession of that stone.” “Where is it?” “Etwald carries it on his watch chain. I saw him the other day in prison, and he showed it to me. A common little black stone, it is, but Dido would kill him with pleasure to get it.” “Kill Etwald!” ejaculated Jen. Then, after a pause, he added: “I believe you are right, Arkel. for it is not the man himself she cares about, but the stone. However I’ll see Isabella and make her persuade Dido to speak against Etwald.” The Major went at once to “The Wigwam,” but, notwithstanding all his eloquence, in spite of the tears and im plorings of Isabella, the negress posi tively declined to say a word against the Great Master. ^ “While dat big man hab de Voodoo Stone. I do notin'—notin’,” she said. And from this obstinate position they all failed to move her. When Major Jen departed both Isa bella and her mother were in despair. Failing the proving of the crime against Etwald. accusations might be made against Mrs. Dallas. And this result could be brought about by Dido, did she choose; but the spell of the Voodoo Stone was on her, and she re fused to say anything likely to incul pate its master. “Why don't you get the Voodoo Stone yourself, if you adore it so much ’ cried Mrs. Dallas, exasperated by this obstinacy. Dido opened and shut her hand vulsively. con “Ah, if hab dat Voodoo Stone. I be great; great—de Queen ob the debbles. But he no let it go!” “Go and see Dr. Etwald. and tell him you will give evidence against him unless he gives you the stone.” 1 This suggestion came from Isabella, I but of it Dido took no notice. With out a word to mother or daughter, who were both in tears, she left the room. In the afternoon she was nowhere to be found, and both Mrs. Dallas and Isa bella came to the conclusion that she had fled to avoid being forced into giving incriminating evidence. They fell into one another's arms, and were beside themselves with terror. All the evil done by Dido and Etwald seemed likely to fall upon their innocent head9. “Still, there is a hope,” said Isabella, recognizing the occasion for prompt action, “we will speak to Major Jen and ask him to send the police after this wretched woman.” This opinion was at once acted upon, and a messenger was sent to “Ashen tee;” but Major Jen was from home •ad U was not till t o’clock that he Prtwmted himself at ‘Tfcc Wigwum” and heard the story of Dido's flight . “But she can't be very far away,” said Jen, hopefully. “I saw her In Deanminster, and'thought she had gone there with a message from you.” “No, no,” cried Mrs. Dallas, wring ing her hands. "She will catch the train there and go to London. Oh, why didn’t you stop her?” “I wish I had known,” said Jen, rather dismayed to find his fine case against Etwald breaking down, “tut even if we had forced her into court she would not have given evidence against the holder of the Voodoo Stone.” “Dat so!” said a horse voice at the door. The three people turned, and saw Dido, with an expression of triumph on her dark face, enter the room. “Dido!” cried Isabella. “You did not run away?” , “No, missy, I tell de truth against dat man.” “But the Voodoo Stone,” said Jen, Wondering what she meant. Dido opened her clinched fist. The Voodoo Stone lay in the palm of her hand. CHAUTER XXII—FOR THE DE FENCE. How she became possessed of the Voodoo Stone, Dido refused to say. Jen had learned from Inspector Arkel that Etwald wore the tailisman on his watch chain, and he wondered in what fashion Dido had contrived to pen etrate into prison and to obtain it from the Doctor. The whole result of the trial depended on the transfer of the stone. If Etwald kept it Dido would not dare to give evidence against him, and so, in the absence of incriminating details, he would go free. As it was, the stone was now in the possession of Dido, and for some reason, which Jen was unable to fathom, she was quite contented to betray her share in +he Plot. By changing hands the Voodoo Stone had transformed Dido into a traitress. However, as the advantage derived from the transfer was all on the side of the prosecution, Jen did not think it wise to inquire too closely into the means which Dido had employed to regain the talisman. He saw nothing of David, who pointedly kept out of his way. He made no inquiries of Dido, and simply informed the Inspec tor that the negress was reacy to ex plain Etwald’s secrets, without telling him why she was willing to do so. Her Majesty’s Judges on Circuit came to Deanminster, the court was formally opened, and after some trivial cases had been disposed of, the trial of Regina vs. Etwald was announced. The hall in which the court sat was crowded with people from far and near. There were even reporters from London, sent down by the great dailies, for the case had obtained more than a local celebrity. Inspector Arkel, with his seven witnesses on behalf of the Crown, was at the table before the Judges, and, with Major Jen, had held several conversations with the Public Prosecutor. David, calm and compos ed, but paler than a corpse, was in his place glancing over his brief, and ex changing curt sentences with Etwald’s solicitor. Lastly Etwald himself, the terrible criminal, who, in the eyes of the public, was a hardened and blood thirsty monster, stepped into the dock. Suave and smiling, he pleaded not guilty to the indictment, and the trial commenced. The Public Prosecutor stated the case in all its fulness. The prisoner, said he, was a medical man practising in Deanminster. He had seen Miss Isabella Dallas, and had fallen in love with the lady, and also—which was more important—with the fortune of the lady. Evidently he had made up his mind that no obstacle should stand in the way of his marriage with Miss Dallas. But it so happened that there was one obstacle; the young lady was in love with Mr. Maurice Alymer, a young gentleman of position who held a commission in Her Majesty’s army. Her love was returned, and the young couple were engaged. Interruption by the prisoner’s coun sel: “But without the consent of the mother.” The Public Prosecutor thought that the interruption of his learned friend was out of place; as the refusal of Mrs. Dallas—" mother, gentlemen of the jury, to the young lady engaged to the deceased gentleman, Mr. Maurice Aly mer”—had nothing to do with the ac tual facts of the case. The prisoner, seeing that while Mr. Alymer lived, he could never marry Miss Dallas, deter mined to rid himself of a rival. The prisoner had been in Barbadoes. and while there he had learned many things concerning African witchcraft, and had become possessor of the Voodoo Stone, a talisman which the black race held in peculiar reverence. On his return to England, the prisoner had become acquainted with Mrs. Dallas, with the daughter whom he designed to marry, and with a negress called Dido, the servant of the aforesaid Mrs. Dallas. By means of the Voodoo Stone, the prisoner made an absolute slave of the negress, and could command her ser vices at any time, even to the extent of crime. l he counsel for the defense objected to the use of the word crime. Nothing, he submitted, had yet been proved. Counsel for the prosecution accepted the correction of his learned friend, and withdrew the obnoxious word crime—if not altogether, at all events for the time being. He would resume his explanation of the case. Major Jen, the adopted father of the deceased, possessed a barbaric curiosity called by civilized people the devil-stick, by bar barians the wand of sleep. This he had obtained from Ashantee, where it was used to kill people inimical to the King by the injection of poison. There was no need to describe the devil-stick, as it was on the table and would be shown to the jury. This devil-stick_ \\ ith some impatience prisoner’s counsel admitted that the devil-stick had been used to kill the deceased and requested the prosecutor to pass on to more important details. The counsel for the Crown thanked his learned friend for the admission, and would continue. The devil-stick was stolen by Mrs. Dallas, who com mitted the theft under the hypnotic influence of the negresa Dido. By the direction of Dr. Etwald, Dido refilled the stick with fresh poison, being en abled to manufacture the same from a recipe of her grandmother's—said grandmother having come from Ashantee. where the stick—the devil stick. be it understood—had been con structed and used. She had given this terrible weapon to the prisoner, who with it had killed Mr. Alymer, his rival. Counsel for the defense submitted that the crime had yet to be proved. His learned friend was assuming too much. The Public Prosecutor said that he Ferted no more than he could prove their lordships and the gentlemen the Jury. The prisoner had killed Mr. Alymer, and It van ter this of fence. that he stood ik yonder dock. As regards the theft of the body— The lesser offense, said prisoner’s counsel, was swallowed up and merged in the greater; therefore, he protested against the introduction of the theft of the body. The Judge thought that the two crimes were, judicially speaking, one and the same. It was right that the Crown Prosecutor should place before him the whole facts of the case. One part might'neutralize or enhance or explain the other. The Crown Prose cutor was quite in order. Counsel for the prosecution accepted his Lordship’s ruling and would pro ceed. The body of Mr. Aylmer was taken to the residence of his adopted father, Major Jen. There it was placed in the bed room which had for merly belonged to the living man. Thence it was stolen by the prisoner. Counsel for the prisoner: “All this has yet to be proved.” Counsel for the Crown: “I shall prove it and at once. The jury are now in possession of all the facts of this very interesting case, and every detail will be confirmed by the most responsible witnesses. Call Major Jen.” Evidence—in brief—of Major Jen: ‘‘I was the guardian of the deceased Maurice Alymer. I adopted him as my son. He was in love with, and en gaged to, Miss Dallas, but the mother did not approve of the engagement. Dr. Etwald, the prisoner, also loved Miss Dallas, but she refused to marry him. I showed the prisoner the devil-stick and explained its use, whereupon he wished to purchase it. I declined to part with it, and afterwards it was stolen. After its disappearance, Mr. Alymer was killed by means of the devil-stick poison. His hand was i slightly scratched, and he could not have died from so trivial a cause had not the weapon used been poisoned. Moreover, I recognized the perfume which emanted from the body as that of the devil-stick poison. Dr. Etwald had threatened the deceased once or twice. Afterwards, the body of de ceased disappeared, and the. drug used to stupefy the watcher of the dead was the poison of the devil-stick.” Miss Dallas deposed that she had been engaged to deceased. Prisoner wished to marry her and was jealous of the late Mr. Alymer. Once or twice he had threatened him. The negress, Dido, was accustomed to hypnotize Mrs. Dallas for nervous headaches. While under the influence of hypno tism Mrs. Dallas would act according to the dictates of Dido. On the night that the devil-stick was stolen from the house of Major Jen, Mrs. Dallas had been hypnotized by Dido. Witness had followed her, and had seen the theft of the stick. Afterwards Mrs. Dallas had delivered it into the hands of Dido. Witness never saw the devil stick again. She had seen Mr. Alymer on the night he was murdered, as he had called to see her. Witness had parted with him at the gates, and had seen him go down the road towards “Ashantee.” It was the last time wit ness saw him. It was well known to witness that Dido was under the influ ence of Dr. Etwald, on account r> the latter possessing the Voodoo Stone charm. Dido had manufactured the fresh poison of the devil-stick as a penecea for nervous headache, from which witness suffered. So far as wit ness knew, deceased was in the beat of spirits at the time of his death, and had no intention of putting an end to his life. Witness could swear that prisoner was a bitter and jealous ene my of deceased. Mrs. Dallas declared that she suf fered—like her daughter—from nerv ous headaches. To cure these, she submitted frequently to hvpnotic treatment at the hands of Dido, who was gifted with a strong will. On the night the devil-stick was stolen she had been hypnotized, but she did not know what she did while under the influence. While in the trance—as it may be called—she never knew what she did, and she had hitherto had every confidence in Dido, as an old and faithful servant, that she—Dido— would not induce her to do wrong things while hypnotized. She had never seen the devil-stick, either at the house of Major Jen or in her own. The negress had prepared a drug for the cure of headaches, which witness believed was similar—as was judged from the perfume—to the poison eon* tained in the devil-stick. She knew that her daughter wished to marry the deceased, but for certain reasons— not pertinent to the case—she had de clined to sanction the engagement. She would not have permitted her daughter to marry Dr. Etwald, as she did not like him or approve of the in fluence which he exercised over Dido. She knew what prisoner possessed the Voodoo Stone, and by means of it could make any member of the black race do his will. Prisoner was a de clared enemy of the deceased, and a jealousy existed between them on ac count of their daughter. In presence of witnesses prisoner had threatened deceased. She knew nothing of the theft of the body. L, villa. There uw three cordons of soldiers aronnd it and the neighborhood is very un healthy, especially few strangers. It is really very dangerous the way you Englishmen will walk about in strange countries. Be sure and remember about the Jew watchmen and the Greek smugglers and the Tartar dogs and the peonies and Livadia and luncheon at 2. I hope you will enjoy your walk. Au revoir! Peskoryei, Ivan!” I hoped so, too, but not confidently, having suffered much abroad from the national reputation for love of adven ture. In appearance I knew the na tionalities of the Crimea to be equally disreputable, and I should have liked a clearer indication of viciousness in watchmen, smugglers and watchdogs than their religion. After an hour’s walk through the woods I came out on the sea at-the mouth of a wooded glen between two low scarped headlands. Wherever the cliffs were not absolutely sheer un dergrowth and rank plants grew down to the shingle beach. The path was unmistakable, a rough track leading up over the bluff on either side, but in one direction it led to luncheon and the countess, in the other to Livadia and the cordons. Scarcely was I se curely impaled on the horns of this dilemma when I heard a clattering above and a pony appeared over the eastern bluff. On the pony sat a port ly personage in a blue caftan and red fez. In one hand he held a large white umbrella open over his head; in the other he held a closed green one, with which he banged the pony when it made a false step. Behind him a long cavalcade of pack ponies successively topped the sky line; every third or fourth was led by a picturesque ruffian with an armory of small arms in his eash. My rapidity of decision often in creases with the emergency. In a mo ment I had decided and had swiftly ascended the western bluff. At the top I turned. The cavalcade had halted and the men were gathered around the man on the pony, who was gesticulat ing with the closed umbrella and en forcing important points with the open one. “Well,” thought I, “they are certain ly smugglers, and probably Greeks. I shall surely be taken prisoner and probably be held to ransom. I wish I had never left Ennismore gardens. Better an August in London, where police are. than a vlllegiature with smugglers.” So I turned to go down the other slope, when below in the next glen I saw a flat-roofed building in a courtyard. Not a soul was to be seen, but the yard was full of dogs (asleep in the sun or prowling. “Well,” I thought, “they are certainly watchdogs and probably Tartars. I shall surely be bitten and possibly de voured. I wish I had walked from Slm phoropol. Better have worn out one's boots than have preserved them at the expense of one’s person.” So I turned again and went into the woods on the right. After pushing some way through the grass I came out on a clearing planted with vines. In the middle was a staging and on it stood an unkempt, elderly individual. The sun glinted on the barrel of a long firelock as he moved from side to side, uttering at intervals a melodious bellow. “Well,” thought I, “he is certainly a watchman, and he looks like a Jew. If he Bees me I shall surely be shot, and possibly prosecuted. Bettor any fate than a Jewish widow with six chil dren.” S I returned to the cliffs and made my way over the rocka, which were piled half way up their face, through very thick scrub. When I reached the next headland I saw grow ing above, on the top of the cliff, a grand bed of wild peonies. I climbed up a steep rock couloir to the top of the bluff, and sitting down among the peonies looked back on the supposed Tartar farm lying below in the full blaze of a Crimean sun. Nothing stirred except some restless or flea-bit ten dog, but in a strip of shade under the eaves, on a bench which ran the length of the house, lounged yellow serge-clad soldiers in every attitude of heat and boredom. Along the glen, in shade of rock and tree, stood sen tries, as invisible to me when on the opposite bluff as I was then to them, but now as painfully apparent to me as I- But I was in the midst of the peonies before this thought had had time to take shape. Unfortunate ly. in moving, I started a stone, which fell over the cliffs onto the rocks be low, ringing through the still air like a pistol shot. It was instantly answer ed by a hoarse challenge from the beach, repeated a few yards further on, and again further, until the flle-flre of Russian gutturals died away round the next headland and far inland up the glen. “Well," thought I, “they are certain ly sentries, and evidently a cordon. I wish I had never seen the countess. Better be convicted of poisoning a post master than arrested for trespassing on the Czar. I shall surely be shot and probably sent to Siberia, for this is the Livadia cordon, and I am inside it.” I carefully parted the peonies which screened me from the beach and look ed down. A soldier was standing an kle deep in the ripple in an odd, con strained attitude. I wondered what he was doing, until I noticed that a little bright “o” under his cheek was a rifle barrel and that I was looking down the muzzle. I withdrew to the depth of the peony bed. A half hour, I should say, passed. I held my breath all the time. I was roused by a noise of clambering below, and slid one eye toward the edge of the peony bed. Close underneath the round, red face of a Russian private rose over the rocks; he clambered steadily up, hold ing his rifle over his head and stop ping occasionally to wipe sweat out of his eyes, for the rocks were steep and held the heat like a furnace, and he was a northerner and a man of the plains. At the foot of the little cliff he stopped; he looked at the peony bed at the top. he looked at the twenty feet of steep rock below it, then picked up a pebble and threw it up as a dep uty. “Hooshi" said he. I scuffled among the peonies to represent a start led animal, and he sat down with his back to the clifTs with the air of a man ■who haa done more than his duty and means to neglect it a little. I picked a bunch of peonies and looked out again. He still, like a good Russian, had his eyes fixed on Constantinople. I crept into the woods and through them, keeping a line which would take me right out of the angle of the cordon within which I was caught. In the woods I passed the other two cordons without difficulty, for I was on the lookout and they ware not. Presently I came against g holly hedge, broke through it, and toond myself in a laby rinth of gardens, through which I. wan dered for hours, feeling like a charac ter in the "Arabian Nights.’ •gain shall I see sock a sight acres of undercut. 1 iMflMfttfar mi hat they disturbed me no farther by their profound bovs; finally, in a Greek temple arranged as an orchid house I came upon two young ladles l cutting (lowers. My peonies appeared to draw their attention, and after a little whispering one asked in Russian: “Pray, sir, would you tell us where you found those peonies? My sister and I have looked for them in the park, but in vain. Oh, thank you! Indeed, we did not mean to deprive you—but if they were really intended for us—at least you must allow us to compensate ! you!” and she handed me her basket of orchids. ••’t he peonies,” said I, “grow on th« bluff inside the outside cordon, but they are difficult of access, and if 1 might sometimes bring some—” “To General V-’s quarters, in the left wing,” said she. “We will ex change them for some of these flowers which—are also diffic ult of access.” A harsh voice called “Sonva. Masha!” “That is the general; we must n<4 stay; do svidanya.” said they. I thought I must not either, and hua ried away through the other end ol the temple; but I now had a purpose, A bunch of peonies had brought ms into Livadia; a basket of orchids should get me out of it. I walked as quickly as dignity would permit toward a distant stone wall in which was a gate and grille faced out side with sheet iron. Beside it stood a guard house, before it two sentries and a great golden double-headed eagle sprawled and gaped above. As I came up the two soldiers crossed bayoneta before the gate. “Why haven’t you opened the gate,” said I; “I shalL positively have to wait. | *. | “Your well-bornship will pardon,’* said one; “none may pass.” "Absurd,” said I; “you know who I am; open at once.” “Your high-well-bornship will deign to have patience; it is an order. His majesty arrives to-morrow.” “Of course, but I hasten to her su preme excellency. Countess W-with these flowers from the noble ladles, the daughters of his excellency, the highly honored General V-.” “But I have not the key,” your ex cellency,” said the poor mun, in great distress. “Disgraceful negligence," said I; “go, get it at once.” "But the sergeant has it, and he is digging potatoes, and l dare not leave my post.” j i turned away in despair to try some where else, when in the distance, up the vista of gardens. I saw the two young ladies of the temple, standing with a big man in a large white cap and the uniform of a general of tha I guard. One of them held the fatal* ! peonies in her hand, and the big man j appeared to be interested in the con I versatlon. Suddenly he wheeled round 1 and strode swiftly in the direction of the gate. “There is General V-,” said I to the sentries, pointing out the white cap in the distance, as it appeared over an intervening cluster rose. “If ha comes and finds me waiting here, there will be a terrible row. Now, I do not like getting anybody into trouble, so I will incommode myself so i’ar as to climb over the gate.” "Thank your high-well-born supreme excellency," said the guards. I went up that gate like a squirrel, orchids and all, for the general's steps were already crunching the gravel of the path behind. As I bestrode the golden eagle he saw me, picking up IBs, , sword, and ran. his spurs winking over the grass in the sunlight and the or ders twinkling on hia tunic. I pride myself on being the first foreigner who ever made a Russian general run. I cut the descent short, picked my self up and hurried down the avenue, praying that the Iron gate might be bullet proof and the potato garden not convenient to the guard-house. I did not run, but that was on account of the patrols. Some of them barred the way, but I waved them aside with the orchids and they fell back apologetic ally and saluted. Presently I met a well-appointed brougham, empty. I stopped it, got In and told the coach man to drive quickly to the Villa W-. At sunset I entered the Count ess' hall. I was met by the cotint. “You're safe, then,” said he; "that will save trouble; but,” he asked anxiously, "have you the wild peonies of the countess?” “No; but I have the hot-house or chids of the general's daughter,” I re plied. He shook his head dubiously, and went Into the drawing room. "You are late for luncheon," said the countess, “and you have not the peon less. Don’t explain; It will bore me— oh, how lovely! You Englishmen are wonderful. At noon I leave you In the forest on foot looking for peonies; at sunset you come out of it in a carriage and pair, with priceless orchids. Pray explain how you came by them. No, it will not bore me. Why, Llvadla has not the like. What! you think It has? Very well. Then the count shall take you there to-morrow' -you could not get In otherwise—with an Intro duction to General V-, the groom of the palace, who will show you the gardens. He has very pretty daugh ters; take them a bouquet and they will give you flowers which you ran bring to me.” But I did not explain, nor did I gn to Llvadla, not seeing any point In which I could improve on my first visit. ————o CHILDREN TAT'GHT TO f»E T1IB DAGGER. Among the wilder trlb-s of the Caucasus every child is taught to tm< the dagger almost as soon as he can walk. The chil dren first learn to stab water with«mi making a splash, and by Incessant prtie. tlce acquire an extraordinary command oven the weapon. Vie U and pi) tf satisfied. KOHL CO., 377 S, PERFORATING, RULING. NUMBERING and BINDING ...FOR THE TRADE.... Country Printer* would du well to contult u* before gir lax utlrntM.