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The thing was managed with an In
genuity that Alan termed devilish—it
was indisputably Machiavellian.
The lovers had come down from the
North in hot haste and the shadow of
death. Two days of steady traveling
by canoe, by woods trail, by lake
Steamer—forty-eight hours of fatigue
and strain eased by not one instant's
relaxation from the high tension of
vigilance upon which their very lives
depended wore to a culmination
through thie tedious afternoon on the
train from Moosehead—a trap of phys
ical torment only made possible by
Alan's luck in securing, through sheer
accident, two parlor-car reservations
turned back at the last moment be
fore leaving Kineo station.
No matter—the longest afternoon
must have its evening: the pokiest of
trains comes the more surely to its
destination in another hour or two
they would be in Portland—free at
last to draw breath of ease in a land
of law, order and sane living.
As if in answer to this thought, the
train slowed down with whistling
brakes to the last hill-station, and as
the trucks groaned and moved anew,
a lout of a boy came galloping down
the aisle, brandishing two yellow en
velopes and blatting like a stray calf:
"Mista Lawr! Mista Lawr! Tel'
grams for Mista Lawr!"
Alan had been expecting at every
Btation a prepaid reply to his wire for
reservations on the night express from
Portland to New York.
But why two envelopes superscribed
"Mr. A. Law, Kineo train southbound,
He tore one open, unfolded the in
elosure, and grunted disgust with its
curt advice, opened the other and
caught his breath sharply as he with
drew—part way only—a playing card,
a trey of hearts.
Thrusting it back quickly, he clapped
both envelopes together, tore them
Into a hundred fragments, and scat
tered them from the window. But
the fiendish wind whisked one small
scrap back—and only one!—into the
lap of the woman he foved.
Vainly he prayed that she might
be asleep. The silken lashes trembled
on her cheeks and lifted slightly, dis
closing the dark glimmer of question
ing eyes. And as she clipped the scrap
tf cardboard between thumb and fore
finger he bent forward and silently
took it from -her—one corner of the
trey of hearts, but inevitably a corner
bearing the figure "3" above a heart.
"The Pullman agent at Portland
wires no reservations available on any
New York train in the next thirty-six
hours," he said with lowered voice.
"Couldn't we possibly catch the New
York boat tonight?"
He shook a glum head. "No—I
looked that up first. It leaves before
we get in."
She said, "Too bad," abstractedly,
reclosed her eyes, and apparently
lapsed anew into semi-somnolence—
but without deceiving him who could
well guess what poignant anxiety
gnawed at her heart.
He could have ground his teeth in
Bxasperation—the impish insolence of
that warning, timed so precisely to set
their nerves on edge at the very mo-
Hs Could Have Ground His Teeth in
ment when they were congratulating
themselves upon the approach of a
The sheer insanity of the whole
The grim, wild absurdity of it!
To think that this was America, this
the twentieth century, the ajex of the
highest form of civilization the world
had ever known—and still a man
could be hunted from pillar to post,
haunted with threats, harried with at
tempts at assassination in a hundred
forms—and that, by a slip of a girl
with the cunning of a madwoman, the
TheTrey O Hearts
A Novelized Version of the Motion Picture Drama of the Sam* Nana
Produced by the Universal Film Co.
By LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE
Author mfTha Fortune Hunter," "The Bran Boul""The Black &»".•*.
IDnttrated with Photographs from the Fictars Prelacusa
Copyright, 1914. by Louis Joseph Vance
heart of a thug, tne face or a cnarm
lng child—the face of the woman that
Bat beside him, duplicating its every
perfect feature so nearly that even he
who loved the one could scarcely dis
tinguish her from the other but by in
stinct, intuition, blind guesswork.
He nodded heavy-hearted confirma
tion of a surmise slowly settling into
conviction in his mind, that such cun
ning, such purpose and pertinacity
could not possibly spring from a mind
well balanced, that the woman, Judith
Trine, sister to the Rose he loved so
well, was as mad as that monomaniac,
her father, who sat helpless in his
cell of silence and shadows in New
'York, day after day, eating hie heart
out with impatience for the word that
his vengeance had been consummated
by the daughter whom he had inspired
to execute it.
An hour late, in dusk of evening,
the train lumbered into Portland sta
tion and, heart in mouth, Alan helped
Rose from the steps, shouldered a way
for her through the crowd, and almost
lifted her into a taxicab.
"Best hotel in town," he demanded.
"And be quick about it—for a double
He communicated his one desperate
scheme to the girl en route, receiving
her indorsement of it. So, having reg
istered for her and seen her safely to
the door of the best available room in
the house within ready call of the pub
lic lobby and office, he washed up,
gulped a hasty meal—which Rose had
declined to share, pleading fatigue—
and hurried away into the night with
only the negro driver of a public hack,
picked up haphazard at some distance
from the hotel, for his guide.
He wasted the better part of an
hour in fruitless and perhaps ill
advised inquiries then his luck, such
as it was, led him on suspicion down
a poorly lighted wharf, at the ex
treme end of which he discovered a
lonely young man perched atop a pile,
hands in pockets, gaze turned to a
tide whereon, now black night had
fallen, pallid wraiths of yachts swung
Just visibly beneath uneasy riding
"Pardon me," Alan ventured, "but
perhaps you can help me out—'
"You've come to the wrong shop, my
friend," the young man interposed
with" morose civility "I couldn't help
anybody out of anything—the way I
"I'm sorry," said Alan, "but I
thought possibly you might know
where I could find a seaworthy boat
The young man slipped smartly
down from his perch. "If you don't
look sharp," he said ominously, "you'll
charter the Seaventure." He waved
his hand toward a vessel moored
alongside the wharf: "There she is,
and a better boat you won't find any
where—schooner-rigged, fifty feet over
all, twenty-five horsepower, motor aux
iliary, two staterooms—all ready for
as long a coastwise cruise as you care
to take. Come aboard."
He led briskly across the wharf,
down a gangplank, then aft along the
deck to a companionway, by which the
two men gained a comfortable and
roomy cabin, bright with fresh white
Here the light of the cabin lamp re
vealed to Alan's searching scrutiny a
person of sturdy build and independent
carriage, with a roughly modeled,
good-humored face, reddish hair, and
steady though twinkling blue eyes.
"Name, Barcus," the young man in
troduced himself cheerfully "chris
tened Thomas. Nativity, American.
State of life, flat broke. That's the
rub," he laughed, and shrugged, shame
faced. "I found myself hard up this
spring with this boat on my hands,
sunk every cent I had—and then some
—fitting out on an oral charter with
a moneyed blighter in New York, who
was to have met me here a fortnight
since. He didn't—and here I am, in
pawn to the ship chandler, desperate
enough for* anything."
"How much do you owe?"
"Upwards of a hundred."
"Say I advanced that amount—when
can we sail?"
The young man reflected briefly.
"There's something so engagingly idi
otic about this proceeding," he ob
served wistfully. "I've got the strang
est kind of a hunch it's going to go
through. Pay my bills, and we can be
off inside an hour. ThatIs—"
He checked with an exclamation of
dismay, chapfallen. "I may have some
trouble scaring up a crew at short
notipe. I had two men engaged, but
last week they got tired doing noth
ing for nothing and left me flat."
"Then that's settled," Alan said. "I
know boats I'll be your crew—and the
better satisfied to have nobody else
The eyes of Mr. Barcus clouded.
"See here, my headlong friend, what's
your little game, anyway? I don't
mind playing the fool on the high seas,
but I'll be. no party to a kidnaping
ed on inspiration
10 get ciea^ot jroraana oy uimuiguv,
"You're on!" Barcus agreed prompt
ly, his face clearing. "God only knows
Why I believe you, but I do—and here's
CHAPTER XI. .~
Anxiety ate like an acid at Alan's
heart. If this shift to the sea might
be thought a desperate venture, he
was a weathered salt-water man and
undismayed nothing would have been
more to his liking than a brisk coast
wise cruise in an able boat—under
auspices less forbidding. .-, v,.'
Lingered Watchfully on Deck.
the Seaventure. But nothing hap
pened while Mr. Barcus was as good
as his word. Alan had barely set foot
on deck, following the girl, when the
gangplank came aboard with a clatter,
and the Seaventure swung away from
Until the distance was too great for
even a flying leap Alan lingered watch
fully on deck.
But when he re-entered thV hotel ^undinTWerallveTy overh^dTand
one surprising thing happened that,
gave him new,heart—momentarily it:
seemed almost as if his luck had I
turned. For, as he paused by the desk
of the cashier to demand his bill, the
elevator gate opened and Rose came
out eagerly to meet him with an eager
air of hope that masked measurably,
the signs of fatigue.
"I worried so I couldn't rest," she
told him guardedly as he drew her
aside "so I arose and got ready, and
watched from the window till I saw
you drive up."
He acquainted her briefly with his
But she seemed unable to echo his
confidence or even to overcome the
heaviness of her spirits when their
cab, without misadventure, set them
down at the wharf.
Here, Alan had feared, was the cru
cial point of danger—if the influence
of the trey of hearts was to bring
disaster upon them it would be here,
in the hush and darkness of this de
serted water front. And he bore him
self most warily as he helped the girl
from the car and to the gangplank of
At length, satisfied that all was well,
he returned to the cabin.
"All right," he nodded "we're clear
of that lot, apparently nobody but fthe
three of us aboard. Now you'd best
turn in. This is evidently to be your,
stateroom, this, one to port, and you'll
have a long night's sleep to make up
for what you've gone through—dear
jayes naifecioaea. her nsaa tnrown
back,. she seemed to suffer his kiss
rather than to respond, then turned
hastily away to her stateroom—leav
ing him staring with wonder at her
By midnight the Seaventure was
spinning swiftly south-southeast, close
reefed' to a snoring sou'west wind—
the fixed white eye of Portland head
light fast falling astern.
She Whips Out a Gun as Big ss a Cannon,
He drew nearer, dropping his voice
tenderly. And of a sudden, with a
little low cry, the girl came into his
arms and clung pasionately to him.
"But you?" she murmured. "You
need rest as much as I! .What about
"Oh, no I don't" he contended. "Be
sides I'll have plenty of time to rest
up once we're fairly at sea. Barcus
and I stand watch and watch, of
course. There's nothing for you to
It's an elopement," Alan interrupt- do but be completely at your ease.
nn inanirnHnn. "We've simply got' But—you must let me go." $tlli5 $K'
CHAPTER XII. 1
Down the Cape.
At four o'clock, or shortly after,
Alan was awakened by boot-heels
a a to a a
tches—saw the sun lift up smiling
tumbled blue water,
8 he a of a a 1 I In
bound for Boston, raised and over
hauled a graceful but businesslike fish
erman (from Gloucester, Barcus
opined when called to stand his trick
at eight) and saw it a mile or two
astern when—still aching with fatigue
—he was free to return to his berth
for another four-hour rest.
This time misguided consideration
Induced Barcus to let his crew sleep,
through the first afternoon watch. Six
bells were ringing when, in drowsy ap
prehension that something had gone
suddenly and radically wrong, Alan
He was on deck again almost before
be rubbed the -sleepiness from his
eyes, emerging abruptly from the half
light of the cabin to a dazzle of sun
tight that filled the cup of day with
rarefied gold, even as he passed from
conviction of security to realization of!
immediate and extraordinary peril.
His first glance discovered the wheel
deserted, the woman with back to him
standing at the taffrail, Barcus—no
where to be seen. The second con
firmed his surmise that the Seaventurei
had come up into the wind, and now
was yawing off wildly into the trough
of a stiff if not heavy sea. A third1
showed him, to his amazement, the
Gloucester fisherman overhauled
with such ease that morning and now,
by rights, well down the northern hori
zon—not two miles distant, and stand
ing squarely for the smaller vessel.
Bewildered, he darted to the girl's
side, with a shout, demanding to
know what was the matter. She.
turned to him a face he hardly recog
nized—but still he didn't understand.
The inevitable inference seemed a
thing unthinkable hie brain faltered
when asked to credit it. Only when
he saw her tearing frantically at the
painter, striving to cast it off and with
it the dory towing a hundred feet or
so astern, and when another wonder
ing glance had discovered the head
and shoulders of Mr. Barcus rising
over the stern of the dory as he strove
to lift himself out of the water—only
then did Alan begin to appreciate
what had happened.
Even so, it was with the feeling that
all the world and himself as well had
gone stark, raving mad, that he seized
the girl and, despite her struggles, tore
her away from the rail before she had
succeeded in unknotting the painter.
"Rose!" he cried stupidly. "Rose!
What's the matter with you? Don't
you see what you're doing?"
Defiance inflamed her countenance
and accents. "Can't you ever say any
thing but 'Rose! Rose! Rose!' Is
there no other name that means any
thing to you? Can't you understand
how intolerable It is to me? I love
you no less than she—better than she
ever dreamed of loving you—because
y*n.t* VQJI. too! What is love that
is no more than love? uant yon un
"Judith!" he cried in a voice of .stu
pefaction. "But—Good Lord!—how
did you get aboard? Where's Rose?"
"Where you'll not find her easily
again," the woman angrily retorted.
"Trust me for that!"
"What do you mean?" Illumination
came in a blinding flash. "Do you
mean it was you—you whom I brought
"You waylaid her there in the hotel,
substituted yourself for her, deceived
me into thinking you—!"
"Of course," she said simply. "Why
not? When I saw her sleeping there—
the mirror of myself, completely at
what else should I think
ex than to take her place witn tne man
I loved? I knew you'd never know the
difference—at least I was fool enough
for the moment to believe I could
stand being loved by you in her name!
It was only today, when I'd had time
to think, that I realized how impos
sible that was!"
A sudden slap of the mainsail boom
athwartships and a simultaneous cry
from over the stern roused Alan from
his consternation to fresh appreciation
of the emergency. With scant consid
eration he hustled the woman to the
companionway and below, slammed its
doors and closed her in with the slid
ing 'hatch—all in a breath—then
sprang to the taffrail, just in time to
lend a helping hand sorely wanted by
Mr. Barcus in his efforts to climb
aboard, after he had pulled the dory
up under the stern by its painter.
He came over the rail in a towering
"I hope you'll pardon the apparent
impertinence," he suggested acidly,
as soon as able to articulate coher
ently—"but may I Inquire if that
biooay-mintfed vixen is your blushing
Alan shook a helpless head. The
thing defied reasonable explanation.
He made a feeble stagger at it with
out much satisfaction either to him
self or to the outraged Barcus.
"No—it's all a damnable mistake!
She's her sister—I mean, the right
girl's sister—and her precise double—
fooled me—not quite right in the head,
"You may well be afraid, you poor
flat!" Mr. Barcus snapped. "D'you
•know what she did? Threw me over
board! Fact! Came on deck a while
ago, sweet as peaches—and all of a
sudden whips out a gun as big as a
cannon, points it. at my head and or
ders me to luff into the wind. Before
I could make sure I wasn't dreaming,
she had fired twice—in the air—a sig
nal to that blessed fisherman astern
there—at least, they answered with
two toots of a power whietle and
changed course to run up to us. Look
how she's gained already!"
"But how did she happen to throw
"Happen nothing!" Barcus snapped,
getting to his feet. "She did it a
purpose—flew at me like a wildcat,
and before I knew what was up—I
was slammed backwards over the
"I can't tell you how sorry I am,"
Alan responded gravely. "There's
more to tell—but one thing to be done
"And that?" Mr. Barcus inquired
"To get rid of the lady," Alan an
nounced firmly. "Make that fisher
man a present of the woman in the
case. You don't mind parting with
the dory in a good cause—if I pay for
"Take it for nothing," Barcus
grumbled. "Cheap at the price!"
He took Alan's place, watching him
with a sardonic eye as he drew the
tender in under the leeward quarter,
made it fast, and reopened the com
As the girl came on deck with
out other invitation, in a sullen rage
that only heightened her wonderful
loveliness, Alan noted that her first
look was for him, of untempered ma
lignity her second, for Barcus, with
a curling lip her third, astern, with
a glimmer of satisfaction as she rec
ognized how well the fisherman had
drawn up on the Seaventure.
"Friends of yours, I infer?" Alan
"Then it would save us some trouble
-^-yourself included—if you'll be good
enough to step Into the dory without a
Without a word, Judith stepped to
the rail and, as Barcus luffed, swung
herself overside into the dory.
Immediately Alan cast off, and, as
the little boat sheered off, Barcus,
with,a sigh of relief, brought the Sea
venture once more back upon her
For eome few minutes there was si
lence between the two men, while the
tender, dropped swiftly astern, the
woman plying a brisk pair of oars.
Then, suddenly elevating his nose,
Barcus sniffed audibly. "Here," he
said sharply, "relieve me for a min
ute, will you? I want to go forward
and have a look at that motor."
In the time that he remained invis
ible between decks the fisherman
luffed, picked up the dory and its
occupant, and came round again in
open chase of the Seaventure.
When Barcus reappeared it was
with a grave face.
"The devil and the deep She," he ob
served obscurely, coming aft, "from
all their works, good Lord deliver us!"
"What's the trouble now?"
"Nothing much—only your playful
little friend has been up to another of
her light-hearted tricks. If you
should happen to want a smoke or
anything to eat when you go below,
just find a mirror and kiss yourself
gOod-by before striking the match.
The drain-cocks of both fuel tanks
wards of a hundred and fifty gallons
of highly explosive gasoline sloshing
around in the bilge!"
'j'i k'-Z. •,*»'*" No Quarter. ^n^^&n&
"Yes, yes," said Mr. Barcus lndul
gently, breaking a long silence. "Very
Interesting. Very interesting, indeed.
I've seldom listened to a more enter
taining life-history, my poor young
friend. But I tell you candidly, as
man to man, I don't believe one word
of it. It's all foolishness!"
His voice took on a plaintive ac- I ^fJ^Z^LT
cent. "Particularly, this!" he expos- wpmaaw.
tulated. and waved an indignant hand,
Moompasslng their pugnt.
fe"The rest of your adventures are
reasonable enough," he said, "they
wfon my credulity—and I'm a native of
Missouri. But this last chapter is im
possible. And that's flat. It couldn't
4j|fcppen—and has. And there, in a
jianner of speaking, we are!'*
Against the western horizon a long,
low-lying strip of sand dunes rested
like a bar of purple cloud between the
crimson afterglow of sunset In the
sky and the ensanguined sea that mir
rored it. '^'l. ./
The wind had gone down with the
sun, leaving the Seaventure becalmed
—her motor long since inert for want
of fuel—in shoal water a mile or so
off the desolate and barren coast that
Barcus, out of his abounding knowl
edge of those waters, named Nauset
Still another mile further off shore
the so-called Gloucester fisherman
rode, without motion, waters as still
and glassy. Through the gloaming,
with the aid of glasses, figures might
*»e seen moving about her decks and
as it grew sHU more dark she lowered
small boat that theretofore had
swung in davits. A little later a faint
humming noise drifted across the tide.
"Power tender," the owner of the
Seaventure interpreted. 'Turning to
call, I presume. Sociable lot What
I can't make out is why they seem to
think it necessary to tow our dory
pack. Uneasy conscience, maybe—
He lowered the binoculars and
glanced Inquiringly at his employer,
who grunted his disgust, and said no
"Don't take it so hard, old top," Bar
pus advised with a change of note
from irony to sympathy. Then he rose
and dived down the companionway,
Presently to reappear with a mega
fohone and a double-barreled shotgunt
'No cutting-out parties in this out
fit," he explained, grinning amiably.
CNone of that old stuff, revised to suit
jrour infatuated female friend—ones
Iboard the lugger and the man1 is
Stationing himself at the seaward
rail, where his figure would show in
sharp silhouette against the glowing
Bunset sky, he brandished the shot
gun at arm's length above his head,
and bellowed stertorously through the
"Keep off! Keep off! This means'
fou! Come within gunshot and 111
blow your fool heads off!"
Putting aside the megaphone, he sat
down again. "Not that I'd dare fire
this blunderbuss," he confided, "with
this reek of gasoline but Just for
moral effect. Phew-w! I'd give a dot
iar for a breath of clean air I've In
haled so much gas in the last few
hours I'm dry-cleaned down to my
Billy old toes!"
Gaining no response from Alan, he,
observed critically: "Chatty little cus-(.
tomer, your are," and resumed the
binoculars. ,..'* r^ li.--
For thirty minutes' nothing
pened, other than that the sound of,
the fisherman's launch was stilled. It.
rested .moveless in the waters, two
figures mysteriously busy in the cock
pit, the Seaventure's dory trailing be
hind it on a long painter.
Gradually these details became
blurred, and were blotted out by the
closing shadows. The afterglow in
the west grew cool and faint. The
crimson waters darkened, to mauve,
to violet, to a translucent green, to
blackness. Far up the coast two
white eyes, peering over the horizon,
•tared' steadfastly through the dark.
"Chatham lights," Barcus said they
Abruptly he dropped the glasses and
Jumped up. "Hear that!" he cried.
Now the humming pf the motor was
again audible and growing louder with
every instant and Alan, getting to his
feet in turn, infected with the excite
ment of Barcus, could just make out
at some distance a dark eb-adow be
neath the dim, spluttering glimmer of
light, that moved swiftly and steadily,
toward the Seaventure.
"What the devil!" he demanded,
"You uttered a mouthful when you
said 'devil'!" Barcus commented,
grasping his arm and hurrying him to
the landward side of the vessel.
"Quick—kick off your shoes—get set
for a mile-long swim! Devil's work,
all right!" he panted, hastily divest
ing himself of shoes and outer gar
ments. "I couldn't made out what
they were up to till I saw them lash
the wheel, light the fuse, start the
motor, and take to the dory. They've
made on grand little torpedo boat out
of that tender—"
He sprang upon the rail, steadying
himself with a stay. "Ready?'.* ha
asked. "Look sharp!" vl
By way of answer, Alan joined Mm
the two had dived as one, entering the
water with a single splash, and com
ing to the surface a good ten yards
from, the Seaventure. For the.next
several seconds they were swimming
frantically, and not until three- hun
dred feet or more Bepauuca tnexu
from the schooner did either dare
Then the impact of the launch
against the Seaventure's side rang out
across the waters, and with a husky
roar the launch blew up, spewing sky
wards a widespread fan of flame. Over
the Seaventure, as this flamed,and
died, pale fire seemed to hover like a
tremendous pall of phosphorescence, a
weird and ghastly glare that suddenly
descended to the decks. There fol
lowed a crackling noise, a sound 4s
Of the labored breathing of a giant
ask} bright flames. xu«nge,. crimso^,
vfoiet and gold, licked oat all overt&f.
schooner, from stem to stern, from