University of South Carolina Libraries
ISSUED SKMI-WEEKL^ l. m. grists sons, Pnbii.her.,} I cJM'B D?tis|>ap?i: ^or the promotion of the Jlotificat, Social, ggrieulturat and (Tommcrciat interests of the ?eopt^. { """^VwJv.'fiveceX""' established 1855. YORKVILLE, S. C., TUESDAY, APRIL 25, 1911. NO. 35. ' - ' " - The Social I B y pr e der ; Copyright 1910, by the BobbsCHAPTER XVII. A Discovery. Mr. Wood and his party set out in their car prepared to arrive at a place of repining; they reached, instead, the gay terrace of a palace of rejoicing. Mr. Goldberg, one of the most animated among those sauntering and > talking here, radiated satisfaction; his wife's countenance shone with kindred emotion; his daughter's aspect was the antithesis to that of a drooping Niobe. Miss MaitJorie Wood and Sir Archibald surveyed them in some surprise; Mr. Wood was not so observant. "We called," he remarked in his fine stately manner, as the car drew up near the front portico, "to tender our condolences, and incidentally, our services. As one of the oldest residents at Comscot, allow me to observe the neighborhood has heretofore enjoyed an unimpeachable reputation." "That's all right," said Mr. Goldberg, waving his hand lightly. "We don't mind a little episode like that of last night!" with airy jocularity. "Pearls? Poof!" Mr. Wood stared in mild amazement. Sir Archibald inserted a monocle. Miss Goldberg, unable to contain herself longer, burst forth with the glorious news. "Do not mind him!" she said indulgently. "The pearls have been found!" "Eh? What! 1 mean, congratulations!" murmured Mr. Wood. "By Jove! Oh, I say!"?The single glass fell from the Englishman's eye; his surprise, now, seemed even greater than that of the others'; his jaw sagged. "Yes: Mr. Bolger found them." The speaker was Miss Flossie: she directed her words to Sir Archibald, rather than to the others. He did not reply; a slight contrac tion manifested itself on his brov/. ui course, there could be no mistake; the faces around him were more eloquent than words, and proclaimed the tidings with irrefutable certainty. And yet??Here, again, was chance interfering with his checker-board, mustering the pieces with new fantastic groupings. The pearls found! "Don't you believe those womenfolks!" interrupted Mr. Goldberg in colossal high spirits. "It's only one of their little hallucinations!" Whereupon the feminine contingent referred to, laughed; a happy laugh. The host of Comscot mansion might be in as facetious a mood as he wished at that moment: they humored him gladly. "Will you kindly unravel this tangle, Miss Burke?" said Sir Archibald slowly. Miss Flossie looked at him, then at Marjorie Wood. "I will try to," she answered. "But first, tell me," with light irrelevancy, somewhat forced, "how is your gallant rescuer, this morning. Miss Wood?" "I?we did not see Mr. Bruce before leaving the house," replied the other with a touch of constraint. "It was best not to disturb him, you see." "No doubt he passed a restless ?nough night," put in Sir Archibald, with a casual glance at Marjorie Wood's profile. "Yes?" Miss Flossie's green eyes i.i tho seemed to gage more man imuau; speaker; his face, however, was masklike. "As you did here," he observed, studying her in turn?"unless I am mistaken. But the story?and from the beginning, if you please. Consider our impatience. Miss Burke." She told of the night's happenings, with reservations. Occasionally he interjected a question, in a seemingly) careless tone, but his queries were pertinent, once or twice, in the least disconcerting. Her lids narrowed: she experienced a vague wonder. He set little -traps in cross-examination for) her: she evaded them with feminine) adroitness. No; she had not seen the intruder's face. Well, any part of him?his back, his feet, his hands? The key-hole. Sir Archibald buoyantly suggested, had been there: was she above the weakness of certain of her sex? That "certain," she laughingly replied, constituted for him a saving clause; but, with scoffing accent, he had only just escaped seriously offending her. A key-hole, forsooth! Yet even as, without actually disclaiming, she lightly waved the suggestion aside, he could not but note how she forbore to answer directly. Nor could be, unless inexcusably insistent, force an issue; deftly sne eiuoeu mm. as a winged creature the too eager entomologist. And, at the same time, he felt the green surface lights of her gay glance prying into his eyes; she was a very deep young woman, he mentally concluded. But what motive could l?e hers in holding hack, for only the moment perhaps, anything, however small? In what way did the thread of her personality interweave itself in this already complex and many-colored tissue of events? He reverted from the question of the identity of the intruder to the surprising sequence, the climax which had first greeted them on the bright lawn today. Personally, he had felt like one who reads the act of a play backward. The scenes leading to the culmination were very simple; Miss Flossie narnated them with graphic ease. After the miscreant had fled from the Page house (fancy his having found refuge in hot uncle's place!) he got into the grounds next door. There Mr. Bolger caught up to him, hut the fellow again fought desperately and got away. . But in the tussle, he dropped, or lost, the pearls; anyhow, the detective afterward found them and brought them with him to Mr. Goldberg, who (Miss Flossie's light head nodded toward that last named gentleman) at this moment bad them once more safely in his possession. Sir Archibald pondered; where was the weakness in the story? There seemed none. "But could not Mr. Bolger or any of the others tell what the fellow looked $ucaneer ++ W V i c * J s n a m Merrill Company. I like?" he asked finally. "Was he heavy or slight, short or tall?" "In the darkness it was not easy to discern very much," answered Miss Flossie. "It is generally conceded, however, he wore an evening suit." "Then he was one of the guests," murmured Sir Archibald, with glance still resting on Marjorie Wood. "Easy enough for any one to get a dress-suit," interjected Mr. Goldberg. "Plenty of places that rent them. I don't attach any importance to the fact he had evening togs on. He knew he had to hide or lurk around the house, somewhere, before making his attempt; if he came properly dressed and the servants happened to run across him, they wouldn't think so much of it on account of his clothes. People sometimes," jocosely, "are apt to be a bit erratic after a champagne supper." But sir Archibald, it could be seen, maintained his own opinion; though he remained silent, contenting himself I with a shrug of his big shoulders. I There were, Mr. Goldberg cheerfully went on, other peculiar features to the case; to wit, the mysterious voice calling out to direct the pursuers just after the fellow had fled the house and was speeding toward the road. What had become of the unknown assistant? Who was he and why had he so completely vanished? Why also had one of the Chinese servants? The Eng lishman s iace naa oeconie gra\ei ao he listened. His secretary! Sir Archibald was thinking of Caglioni, of a more tortile element, savoring of the Orient, subtly introduced into the case. While talking, they had been walking toward that point where the sparsely wooded park began. As in a dream, Marjorie Wood again looked down into the valley. How different tt appeared, than, when she had stood there, only the night before, with Chatfield Bruce! Now the landscape lay bathed in a glorious, golden light. Every house afar showed plainly in embowering garden and orchard; beyond, the ocean lay in shining somnolence. Pearls!?rteeing people!?detectives! ?midnight marauders! ? As from way off, the voices.of the others came to her; in a vague hum and buzz of talk. Miss Flossie's purring accents flowed like the demulcent strains of a soprano in a concerted piece; they mingled with Sir Archibald's basso; gave way before Mr. Goldberg's stridency. From the girl's brow, the caressing breeze swept back the dark hair. She did not seek to analyze her thought, but continued to- look out, down the hillside, marked here and there by a road like a silver ribbon, half-crump led. unfolding haphazard fashion, to the village. Her eyes followed its course; she was aware now of a few words in a more acute masculine pitch: "Here, the fellow sprang down; here, he started his llight." Suddenly something at her feet, in the grass, caught her down-bent glance, something bright and gleaming. which might have been passed unseen many times by many others, unless chancing to stand at the exact angle to receive the glimmer of the sunshine reflected from it. Marjorie Wood stooped and picked up the object, regarding it, first in surprise, then with growing amazement. Her lips parted in a low, quick exclamation. She could not believe, and yet her gaze rested again on it in the palm of her hand?an object she knew, recognized, was not mistaken about! "How ever did it come here?" Her figure suddenly stiffened. The sea threw its lights in her eyes, but they looked abruptly beyond, into unfathomable depths. "Are you so absorbed in the view?" "Or, have you discovered some clue to the mystery?" Voices broke in upon her; Sir Archibald's; Flossie's. Her hand closed hard: the sharp edges of something metallic hurt her fingers, as she held them to her side, but she managed to laugh. ? * ' I... lrtQt 1 VS. anu IU>. \> III! nuuiiiii I ..V in admiration of the view?" Sir Archibald's gaze clouded. Her words recalled, on a sudden, oversharply, the night before?a shadowy form at the girl's side, a man's figure, tall and straight, his face, eager, sedulous. But Miss Flossie's keen look seemed to have seen more than he had. It followed the white hand as it fell and lingered to survey the folds of the Muttering gown which half-concealed tiie girl's fingers and wrist. Miss Wood did not turn toward the two; at that moment, her father and others approached; she mingled quickly with them. Again Ramford heard her laugh gaily, too gaily. At his side, Miss Flossie hummed; her full red lips were curved to a smile. "What is your theory. Sir Archibald?" she said softly. "I have been told you have had experiences for your government in solving many intricate and puzzling matters." "Who said that?" At the moment she acted more as an irritant than an anodyne. "I couldn't really tell you just who," she laughed. "But you are interested: very much interested, aren't you?" shrewdly. ii.. uvnurii-mi'il an indefinite suspi rion he was. in the vernacular, being "sounded" and, perhaps, asked himself why this young person had selected him for her inquisitorial purpose? He) forgot his own close interrogations of her hut a short time before: tentatively drifted. "I^ast night's affair was a very bungling job. was it not?" he drawled, looking into eyes that seemed to invite fuller inspection. "The person all New York has been talking about ? who has Claude Duval. Dick Turpin, and all the other gentlemen, classic or modern, 'beaten to a finish'?couldn't have been concerned it in. could he now?" in an ingenuous murmur. "And yet, the pearls should have proved for him a proper bait, as the saying is." "They were well enough advertised in tlie newspapers, before the event!" she flashed hack. ' The person you speak of must have known." "And resisted the temptation to come here ?" "Naturally!" her eyes narrowing. "Since the affair was so hunglingly handled and the pearls were so easily recovered!" Sir Archibald looked at her closer. "Possibly," he said, "it is you who have a theory?" "I? Oh, dear, no!" she answered hastily. A moment, confronting each other, he fancied a lightning in her eyes, as I ViaU Mio frr<?en stone of an idol's suddenly Hash when the sun touched it And ngain came the question he had asked himself before: What did she know that she was keeping from him and the others? Sir Archibald suddenly shrugged his shoulders: n'importe! "Well, I will be frank and plead guilty to entertaining a little one, myself," he remarked lightly. "A theory, I mean." And bowing, he turned from her and walked away. The host, with Mr. Wood and Mr. Bolger, who had again appeared, were at that moment "talking it over" in a little summer house. On the table rested a bottle of Moselle and some strong Havanas. The detective spoke proudly: it was his privilege. True, the miscreant had slipped from his hands; but to him, Bolger, lay the credit of the fellow's not having got away with the spoils. It was more than a half-victory, where the booty had been so considerable; It constituted a great triumph in the detective's own estimation of his accomplishment. Sir Archibald, who had quietly drawn near, paused; his rather massive figure threw a shadow across the taoie. mis neavy laic scrmcu sionless; he held a half-consumed cigarette in his fingers as he listened phlegmatlcallv. Bolger did most of the talking. His countenance was flushed, and he exhaled big, generous whiffs of smoke. "By the way, Mr. Goldberg," Sir Archibald interrupted in soft, lazy tones, "you have the pearls, so unexpectedly restored, with you?' "Right here!" said Mr. Goldberg tapping his breast. "Hereafter, I eat, sleep and drink with them until they are safely tucked away in New York." "Ah!?May I look at them?" The host at once took out a case, opened it and would have passed It with the contents, to Sir Archibald. But the latter waved It away. "No; no," he laughed. "I said 'look.' You may hold them yourself, Mr. Goldberg. I call these gentlemen to witness," lightly, "my fingers have not come In contact with them." "I guess I can trust an English nobleman?especially when my own eyes are on him,'" observed Mr. Goldberg facetiously. "But for my own sake!" Sir Archv bald's gaze was, in the least, brighter; he puffed at his cigarette. "This case which seems bound to become celebre is already sufficiently involved." "Seems very simple to me," interposed Bolger, with a touch of importance. "Principal thing is, Mr. Goldberg's got his pearls back!" "Indeed?" Sir Archibald bent over the opened leather case held out for his inspection; a faint smile came to his lips. He looked at the gleaming white rope closer and sat down. Through the hazy spirals, floating from his lips, he had once more, across the lawn, caught sight of Marjorie Wood. She talked with a number of people, but her hands were closed tightly. His gaze sharpened. He would have sworn she hardly saw those she spoke with. Why? Mr. Goldberg's ever-recurrent question jarred on a train of speculation; "Well, Sir Archibald, what do you think of them?" ? - ? "i-' 1^0 "i ne pealis. un. nC siai?>., flecked deftly the ash from his cigarette. "You want a frank opinion?" "Prank?" There was an accent of surprise in the host's voice. "Of course!" "Did you ever," said Sir Archibald deliberately, "hear of Manchu pearls?" Mr. Goldberg stared, and Bamford went on. "A very clever people," musingly, "who have learned to insert tiny matrices of brass or bone in the valves of the molusk and then plant the shells in the streams behind their gardens, and wait for results. Afterward, by an ingenious process, the matrices are removed, the cavity filled with wax and neatly sealed. Pearls from Soochoo," with a laugh, "that are well calculated to deceive!" "What do you mean? Get to the point!" Mr. Goldberg threw courteous manner to the winds. "1 mean," said Sir Archibald calmly. "that these pearls you have just shown me were grown in such fashion as I have described. As for their value"?he snapped his fingers?"I wouldn't give you a ten pound note for them!" .Mr. Goldberg leaped to liis feet; Mr. Bulger's eyes protruded. Sir Archibald alone sat apparently unmoved. CHAPTER XVIII. Currents and Counter-Currents. ChatHeld Bruce folded his dresssuit neatly; in fact, he seemed to enter upon the task with great care and scrupulousness. He wound the garments around with heavy sheets of light brown pa|?er which he tied into a compact parcel with good stout twine. He had been somewhat particular about the quality of the paper, that it should be strong enough; and the twine he had tested before using. The knots he had drawn very taut, but even then, surveying his handiwork, there appeared a dubious look in his eyes which he seemed to endeavor to conceal from Simpson, standing respectfully near. Toward that individual he assumed a light manner, asking his views in the matter. Would the parcel do? Mr. Wood's man thought it certainly would do and expressed the opinion it was an exceedingly creditable and secure hit uf work in that line for a gentleman. "Ah, but," said Mr. Bruce deprecatorily, "I can not claim to be altogether a novice; what is it the poet says about our playing many parts? And I have done up a parcel, or two, before, in my time. Itut breathe it not in fSotham, I mean, in Mritain, or to British ears; I would not have Sir Archibald know, good Simpson!" with a tragic gesture. "You are the trusted guardian of my dread secret." Simpson smiled at t'hutficld Mrnce's last whimsical asservation. He detected only an easy spontaneity In those tones; was pleased to see the other in such good humor; and with his arm paining him, too, no doubt. A game one, the latest guest, ruminated Mr. Wood's man, who could treat you like a human being, if you please, and not an automaton; and yet all the while let you know your position, and his. Mentally, perhaps Simpson compared him, with his light cheery ways, to Sir Archibald, whose manner of ordering people about as If they were so I many "China hoys" had rather got onl the nerves of some of the serving staff. Moreover, the rumor of Mr. Bruce's exploit had sifted through the servants' quarters, and he who had sprung to Miss Marjorie's rescue became there elevated to an especial pedestal of his own. "Sorry to trouble you, Simpson," went on the young man, his eyes returning quickly to the bundle. "But you know how it is, when you have only one evening suit to your name, and that's been <i imaged." "In a good cause, sir!" Bruce raised his hand. "Don't!" he said, in a slightly altered tone. And Simpson knew he meant It. Mr. Bruce did not want, at the moment. to think of Marjorie Wood. Had he not figuratively determined to close his eyes to her; only to learn that the mind has its own especial retina whereon faces, or a face, may come and go, persistently, tantalizingly, i playing hide-and-seek with the hraln, now calling out, as it were, "Come and find me;" then, dancing away with illusive sparkle of starlike eyes and musical mocking laughter? Or, was the last hut the breeze tossing the myriad leaves of the poplar, near by, making i merry with a million and one shining cymbals? Bruce looked at them now, all the lightness, the daredevil luster gone from his eyes. Without on the veranda a shadow stirred, the dark outline of the figure of a man, Sir Archibald's valet, hold- < ing close to the side of the house, peering, listening, now, to Simpson's voice that next was heard: "The address, sir?" "Of course!" From where Bruce , stood, near the partly opened window, the shadow of the eaves-dropper on the veranda tloor became visible; but if the young man was aware of It he ( gave no sign. It was not easy to dis- ( cern from the crude, shapeless dark outline that the source of the silhouette was a person. Bruce turned , and picked up a pen, his manner again blithe, animated. "There! Do you make that out " "It's Ch'nese.' The man outside caught the bewilderment in Simpson's tones, and Bruce's seemingly gay answer: "Well, we'll also put it in good American, lest the officials of the express company at Comscot and New York are only learned in that lan- i guage and Irish. But didn't you ever hear, Simpson"?was the allegresse in his tones the least forced??"that the Chinese are among the best tailors " ? '1 ,.notiimlorij In the world? To them, hie your true foreign dandiprats of the Far East," with a viva- i clous gesture. "While, when it comes .to 'touching up' a suit, a bit the worse for wear, or accident, they possess a , positive genius; they can even hide a patch!" i "Not necessary in this case, sir, I trust," returned the responsive and sympathetic Simpson. Bruce handed Mr. Wood's man the parcel, but his lingers seemed yet to linger on it as he delivered a few last instructions. Simpson was cpiite sure he had no objection to taking it personally to the little express office in the village? That worthy answered positively; he had other business, in connection with household matters, needing attending to at once in the town, and he would l?e pleased to forward the package, by express, to the address given. Simpson went; tfte young man heard the door close. The fellow on the veranda also heard the sound, and glided swiftly away. Bruce now stepped to the window and looked out and around. No one was there; he breathed deeply. With relief? A new impending sense of danger? He smiled grimly; but the maid who several moments later entered, to remove the breakfast dishes, found him seated, apparently unconcerned, in the heavy dressing-gown, at a window, in his hand, the little volume that had slipped from Miss Wood's lingers the night before in the library. The sunshine bathed him. At tirst occupied with his own thoughts, he hardly saw the young woman with the tray. Inadvertently she rattled the dishes; then he looked at her, but as from a great distance. Meanwhile, Simpson, having made ready, prepared to issue forth on his journey to the town. A brisk walk to and from the village had been a detail of his daily programme during the many summers he had served at Comscot; the trip back and forth kept him young. Also, truth to tell, Simpson, although a seemingly unobservant and introspective person, while engaged in the performance of his household duties. was not above, or averse to, a bit of gossip with the postmistress, or the stationmaster; it was the prospect of this, as well as his entire willingness to serve Mr. Bruce, that accelerated his pace when he started to go down into the worud. But as he stepped briskly out now noth which lcrt tn a certain little by-way he always took, his progress was abruptly arrested at sight of a figure crossing the lawn toward the house, at an angle which brought him nearer. It was Sir Archibald's secretary, and he looked haggard, more yellow, thoroughly "done up." "Bless my soul!" said Simpson to himself. To Caglioni, he observed: "I beg your pardon, sir, but Sir Archibald said you had decided to keep your room." "Did he, indeed?" snapped the secretary. "That you were not very well!" added the other wonderingl.v. This he could well believe, by the evidence of his eyes; also, by the humor the odd. foreign-looking man was in. His eyes had an ugly gleam; his white teeth, showing between thin, drawn lips, seemed more pronounced than usual. "Well, 1 decided not to keep to my room," remarked Caglioni. "Speaking of which," he went on with a smile which vainly sought to he amiable, "how is Mr. Bruce? Be is in his room ?" "Oh, yes; and feeling rather better, I should say," returned Simpson, cheerily. Caglioni's eyelids fluttered In their peculiar fashion. A few moments he stood gazing l>efore him, as if forgetful of the other: then suppressing any sign of emotion, asked, in as casual a voice as he could summon, one or two other questions. If Sir Archibald was home; where he had gone; when would he return? Simpson answered as best he might, and was about to wheel, when the secretary's look chanced on the bundle, and lingered tentatively. "You're hound for the village, now, I suppose?" he said. Simpson replied affirmatively. "Something of importance, when you take it yourself?" with a nod at the parcel. "Not at all, sir," returned the man absently. "Just a little cleaning and fixing to he done." "Oh?" observed Caglioni. "For Miss Wood, I presume?" Simpson, about to answer, hesitated; perhaps Mr. Bruce might not care to have It known that he, a type of masculine elegance and immaculate neatness, was sending his dress-suit to be repaired, or even, if necessary, "patched up." Most young men, less fastidious, would have cast the offending garments aside and promptly ordered new clothes. For Simpson had seen that the cloth was actually burned through In one or two minute places; hut he was a frugal mortal, nnt.PAItarl nf that Virtlie uuiior-ii, a i m a|/|fiu? vu w? In others. The possession of It had lifted Bruee to a distinctive place In the old-fashioned servant's estimation. Others of his set in over-extravagant Manhattan town, were wasteful and prodigal to a degree positively sinful. He unqualifiedly approved of Mr. Wood's latest guest; anyhow, it was not his. Simpson's, business to proclaim Mr. Bruce's little economies to one who had on many occasions showed himself, In a subtle way, rather too inquiring and inquisitive. So Simpson answered quietly, even with a certain dignity he could on occasions assume: "I often take things down to the village for Miss Wood, sir." As he passed on, Caglioni's glance suddenly changed; Simpson had shifted the bundle and the secretary's eyes had caught sight of certain characters on it. Chinese? He was not quite sure; his brain seemed to move sluggishly; he felt surprised; uncertain what to do. He did think of calling out after Simpson; to what end? That person's figure blended, afar, with the shadowy streaks in the path; l>ecame now a part of the more unbroken, darker tones farther on. There, Caglioni could scarcely distinguish the servant's form; only that which he carried under his arm, the compact little bundle, continued to be visible to the secretary's gaze. It, lighter in hue than the garments Simpson wore, yet remained plainly apparent; Caglioni still saw it, though the man, bearing it away, had merged into the hack-ground. A last gleam, and It, too, finally became lost to sight; ceased to impress itself, like something important, on his visual urgans. Caglionl drew himself up. "A little cleaning and fixing!" His mind felt slightly dazed. One thought predominated: the need of further enlightenment from Sir Archibald. He, the secretary had got out of touch with events. Simpson had said Sir Archibald would return shortly; should he, Cagllnni, go back to the house and wait there, or? His thoughts p-rsistiy reverted to Simpson. As he yet stood, hesitating what course to pursue the sound of a motor down the road decided him; Sir Archibald was returning. Caglioni started toward the house. The secretary met his employer near the front steps. As that gentleman got out of the car, his heavy face expressed none of the surprise he must have felt at sight of the other. Had Caglioni been less concerned, just then, at seeing once more Sir Archibald. he would have noticed that Mr. Wood's usually tranquil countenance was disturbed, and that a pallor and a certain cold apathy marked his daughter's appearance. But the secretary's gaze was only for Sir Archibald; the latter lingered, instead of repairing at once to the house, and t'aglioni waited, also. Mr. Wood, however, followed his daughter, who had descended quickly from the car. and entered the house. "Well?" Sir Archibald and the secretary had stepped now aside. "Why did you not get hack?" His tone veiled a quiet scorn; Caglionl knew his employer; all the latter cared for was results, not excuses. Hence, he cut short his story, though strange invectives did creep into It. crisp odd phrases which smacked of the devilish atmosphere of some faraway. fan-tan place. "So you let him get the better of you?" The other gave a short, brutal laugh. "He!?partly disabled!"? Caglioni's face assumed a more sickly hue. "Wait until I'm done with him!" Sir Archibald made a gesture. "What happened next? Stick to your story!" The continuation of Caglioni's narrative was commonplace enough. Recovering consciousness, he had crept back into the wooded park. Now that Bruce was gone, the secretary dared not let his own presence l>e known; he realized he could not satisfactorily account for how he himself hapjiened to l>e there, when his proof of the other's presence and all that meant was wanting. So he had hidden and skulked, and was working his cautious way through the Wood forest when he had lost himself in that dense tangle of underbrush and been obliged to wait until the dawn before he could escape from the cursed maze. Sir Archibald listened. "Enough!" he said, and started to walk toward the house. "Wait!" said Caglioni excitedly. "You, too, must tell me all. And quickly! 1 have a reason." The other answered impatiently. There was only time now to act. "You ineau?" A thrill of venomous joy shone from the secretary's eyes. Sir Archibald answered laconically. "He has them here then?" said Caglioni swiftly. "You are sure?" "As sure as that lie went to the floldberg park Inst night to get them!"] "Yes, I know that. And those worth less Manehu pearls Miss Ooldber wore, how do you account?" "The pearls she had on just prior t our arrival at the house?very close t our cumins," ironically, "were he own; the celebrated Gold hers pearls She thousht she had them still, wa in blissful isnorance of anythins t the contrary, when you observed tha they?" "1 understand," said the secretar with shin ins eyes. "I even fancied I saw how it wa done," murmured Sir Archibald. "Th fellow, however, is so clever, I dare not be quite positive, then; it migh have been only a detail of a very ela borate scheme. When one of the su pernumeraries is a Chinaman, th drama is apt to he more involved thai appears on the surface." "But now?" suggested Caglioni. Th other made no reply. "Mr. Wood am his daughter?" ? Bamford's usually apathetic eye permitted an unholy gleam for the in stant to transform them. "Mr. Woo< and Miss Wood know that he whi picked the strong-box got poor pick ings: they also know the real pearl were taken earlier in the evening b; some one else." "Ah! And have they any inkllni who the some one may be?" "Not the slightest?yet. It will b< my unpleasant task to enlighten them. Caglloni was observant now, as h had been the night before at the dance "Mr. Wood and Miss Wood seem ti have been rather taken with the fel low," he remarked. Sir Archibald looked up to regard i small white cioua siowiy dissolving Perhaps the blue of the heavens toda; reminded Sir Archibald of skies far o( In Italy, where he had first met Mis Marjorle Wood. ' After the little service he perform ed for Miss Wood," began the secre tary, "they will naturally?" "Of course, the matter will have t< be handled delicately," returned Bam ford softly. "Delicately and regret fully?also firmly, as a diplomat wouli treat it; not," contemptuously, "a de tective! With due regard," spreadini out his big fingers, "for the sensitive feelings of all parties concerned!" Caglloni looked at his principal ad miringly; he had learned to know SI Archibald's ability in the "diplomatic field; the big man could be almos caressing In his manner when drivlni the spike of his purpose through th hard plank of all opposition. "Last night, I was In the dark, no knowing about you," Bamford wen on. "Now?" "One moment!" cried the secretary his thoughts on a sudden, more con fused, but the glimmer of an Idei flashing through them. "You hav been away from the house; then yoi left him here, alone, knowing he na< the?" "I did not know It then," sharply "But James has had his instructions t keep an eye on him and not let hit once out of his sight?to follow hiir If necessary. And," smiling, "I hai his suit-case removed. Which, I fan cied, even without surveillance wouli be enough to keep him and the pearl safely indoors, until I got back." "True!" observed Caglioni, in i more acute tone. "But?desperat straits, you know, call for desperat shifts," he said suddenly. "And wha If?" He paused abruptly and press ed his hand to his head. The other looked at him; uttered on or two hrusk interrogations. Haltingly, as if uncertain of him self, his own suspicions, the secretar; replied; spoke of meeting Simpson the bundle Mr. Wood's man carriec At the Sir Archibald stopped shorl The veins began to stand out on hi brow, his big fingers to close. A footstep sounded near him, bu he did not hear it; the valet had ap proached. "I beg your pardon, Si Archibald." It was James' voice in I terrupting." I thought you ought t J know at once. You told me not to le Mr. Bruce out of my sight, and didn't: but he has got Simpson to tak a parcel of his old clothes that wer damaged to the express office in th village and?" ?... cimnonn tniH me thev wer for Miss Wood," stammered Caglion "I was outside his door 011 the ve randa, sir, and heard him give Simp son the directions. And, sir, he wa that particular about the twine an the paper, and all the rest, for a lot 0 old clothes, that, thinks I. sir, here's a exceedingly fussy and potterin young gentleman?" "You caught the address?" Bam ford asked shortly, smoldering ange on his face. "No. Sir Archibald?only that it wa [ in Chinese, as well as?" "Quick!" Sir Archibald, waving th valet sternly aside, out of ear-shol (wheeled 011 Caglioni. "Go to the ex press office! Get the address, or bet ter still, the parcel! If too late, fol low it?around the world, if need be! A suppressed exclamation, like an ana thema. fell from his lips. "In thi (case, we have to get the 'goods' ti get the man." he said. "You under stand? There is not enough evidenc w ithout." Caglioni vanished; the other agaii moved toward the house. "Good morning, Sir Archibald!" * light voice greeted him from the heai I of the steps: ChatHeld Bruce," neatl; garbed in a luisiuess suit, looked dowi with a smile. "Beautiful day, isn't it? he said in his friendliest manner The Englishman's countenance wen purple. "I?you"? He had aimos forgotten himself, blurted out som accusation, when something in th young man's eye held him. A spar! a Maine, a mocking light of assuranc< certainty, that beat back full-bloodec unreasoning passion, laughed at it a a senseless torrent, as Bruce himsel was laughing now. "But, perhaps, you consider plati tudes on the weather essentially su perfluous!" Sir Archibald looked down; as h passed into the house, he dared no trust himself to answer. Valuable Help.?"I understand tha your wife collaborates with you?" "Yes, her work aids me immensely. "I don't believe 1 have ever see any of her writings." "She doesn't write, she prepares m meals."?Houston Post. Jtfl'Our trials are often creations < our own devising'. JtiT We love the past because it has n fears for us. K PteceUancouo grading, o O RACING ON THE MISSISSIPPI. r j. Mark Twain's Description of the Cons test Between the Amaranth and the n Boreas. ,t The twenty-first of April will be the first anniversary of the death of y "Mark Twain." In the short twelve months slnee the passing of America's ? famous humorist his legion of friends e in nis name state nave snown comd mendable energy In their plans to do t conspicuous honor to his memory. - When these are carried out no depart. ed hero along the 4,200-mile stretch of c the Mississippi river will have received n a grander and more lasting tribute. "Lover's Leap" is a noble promone tory at Hannibal worthy of the tragedy d of his name. It towers nearly 300 feet above the mighty stream which gave a to the ambitious printer boy his real - start in life. On this magnificent emd inence will be erected a large statue o of the pilot whose craft has been dock. cd on the evergreen shore. 3 A large tract of land leading up to y the rocky height has been purchased and is being made into a memorial park. It is* a spot almost in the heart ? of the operations of "Tom Sawyer," "Huck Finn" and "Joe Harper." The e view up and down the river is beauti? ful. Below is the long, narrow island, on which was located the headquarters p of the "desperate sea rovers." Upstream the river is brood and 0 deep, dotted here and there with emerald islands. From the pinnacle of "Lover's Leap" the "gang" watched the boats come a 'round the bend, and envied the men runnning them until it became the life '* and death ambition for every boy to y "go < n the river." T As the young: pilot "Mark Twain" B studied the river as the earnest student imbibed the teachings of his books. Piloting was the one craft of which he - was intensely proud. He thought it . was his real vocation, although he admits that time and again he was on the point of surrendering when con0 fronted with the interminable mass of - detail Horace Bixby, his tutor, placed . before him. He didn't believe any man . could get up a fraternal acquaintance 3 with every reef, sandbar and snag be tween St. Louis and New Orleans, and e that is what Bixby told him he hiul to e d0During these brain-racking years of his apprenticeship as pilot, "Mark - Twain was acquiring the information r which afterward made him the great? est press agent the Mississippi river ever had. De Soto, a European, was t the first white person to explore it. g That was in 1541. In 1871 "Mark Twain" went over De Soto's trail and wrote "Life on the Mississippi" in two parts. The first part described the t craft of piloting as he saw it when t a young man, at a date when the greater percentage of the valley's traffic was handled on the river. The second part was a picture of the river - twenty-one years after, when steam. boating had about thrown up the fight with the railroads. This book e gave the river a wider fame than it u had ever enjoyed before, but it was a 3 fame that came in the twilight of its glory, like a beautiful song to the memory of the dead. ' Then the levee was alive with o steamboats from Carondelet up to and n beyond North Market. A year later the decline began, a decline that has ' continued steadily until the river d traffic hardly figures as an element . in the country's development Mark a Twain has given a description of a i.ona In tho nld HoV? which 9 is u classic. When a captain was in charge of a good boat death was prefa erable to seeing a rival come up behind and pass him. The mortification of a defeat in the presence of a e large passenger list was beyond ent durance. In consequence, explosions were frequent from overtaxed boilers. Following is an extract from Mark Twain's story of the race between the e Amaranth and the Boreas, as seen from the pilot house of the latter boat: Davis pulled a couple of rope9? y there was a jangling of small bells ; far below, the boat's speed slackened, I and the pent steam began to whistle and the gauge cocks to scream: t# "By the mark twain!" 9 "Quar-ter-her-er-less twain!" "Eight and a half!" t "Eight feet!" "Seven-ana-half!" Another jingling of little bells and r the wheels ceased turning altogether. . The whistling of the steam was something frightful now?it almost drown0 ed all other noises. t "Stand by to meet her!" 1 George had the wheel hard down and was standing on a spoke. "All ready!" e The boat hesitated?seemed to hold e her breath, as did the captain and pilots?and then she began to fall away to starboard and evory eye lighted: "Now then! Meet her! Meet her! ' Snatch her!" The wheel flew to port so fast that nraK _ the spone Dienaeu miu a spiuci ??=?? ?the swing of the boat subsided?she 8 steadied herself? d "Seven feet!" ,f "Sev?six and a half!" "Six feet!' Six f?" n Bang' She hit the bottom. George g shouted through the tube: "Spread her wide open. Whale it at her!" Pow?wow?chow! The escape r pipes belched snowy pillows of steam aloft, the boat groaned and surged s and trembled?and slid over into? "M-a-r-k twain!" "Quarter-her?" e "Tap! tap! tap!" (to signify, "Lay t, In the leads.") And away she went, flying up the willow shore, with the whole silver " sea of the Mississippi stretching - abroad on every hand. No Amaranth in sight! "Ha-ha. boys, we took a couple of tricks that time." said the captain, s And Just at that moment a red glare o appeared in the head of the chute and the Amaranth came springing after them! e "Well, I swear!" "Jim, what is the meaning of that?" n "I'll tell you what's the meaning of it. That hail we had at Napoleon was Wash Hastings wanting to come ^ to Cairo, and we didn't stop. He's d in that pilot house now, showing those mud turtles how to hunt for easy * water." n "That's it! I thought it wasn't any - ? i'l si 1 A " slouch tnat was running umi iihuu.^ bar In Hog-Eye Bend. If It's Wash Hastings?well what he don't know about the river ain't worth knowing t ?a regular eoldleaf, kid-glove, diae mond-breastpin pilot Wash Hastings e Is. We won't tane any :ricks off of him. old man!" "I wish I'd a stopped for him, that's t, all." The Amaranth was within 300 yards ' of the Boreas and still gaining. The "old man" spoke through the tube: * "What is she carrying now?" "A hundred and sixty-five, sir." "How's your wood?" "Pine all out, cypress half gone? " eating up cottonwood like pie." "Break into that rosin on the main e deck?lie it in, the boat can pay for t 11 " Soon 'he boat was plunging and quivering and screaming more madly 4 * * - - * ?- " kU'n Uao rl man ever, nut in ? ^iiiinanui ^ ncau t was almost abreast the Boreas's stern. ? "How's your steam now. Harry?" "Break up the casks of bacon in n tiie forrard hold! Pile it in! Levy on that turpentine in the fan tail? drench every stick of wood with it." The boat was a moving earthquake by this time. "How is she now?" "A hundred and ninety-six and still '' a-swelling; water below the middle gauge?cocks; carrying every pound 0 she can stand: nigger roosting on the safety-valve!" "flood! How's your draft?" "Bully! Every time a nigger heaves a stick of wood Into the furnace ho goes out the chimney with It!" The, Amaranth drew steadily up till her jackstafT breasted the Boreas's wheelhouse: climbed along inch by Inch till her chimneys breasted It; crept along, further and further, till the boats were wheel-to-wheel, and then they closed up with a heavy Jolt and locked together tight and fast In the middle of the big river, under the Hooding moonlight. A roar and a hurrah went up from the crowded decks of both steamboats, all hands rushed to the guards to look and shout and gesticulate. The weight careened the vessels over toward each other; officers flew hither and thither cursing and screaming, trying to drive the people amidships. Both captains were leaning over their railings shaking their fists, swearing and threatening; black volumes of smoke rolled up and canopied the sc?ne, deliver ing a rain of aparka upon the vessels. Two piatol shota rang out and both captaina dodged unhurt, and the packed masses of passengers surged back and fell apart, while the shrieks of women and children soared above the intolerable din.?St. Louis GlobeDemocrat. TRUE IRI8H BULLS. Thsy Have a Flavor All Thair Own, "The Effact of Climata. " Sir Richard Steele explained why hia countrymen made bulls: "'Tis the effect of the climate, sir. If an Englishman were born in Ireland he would make as many," said he. It is not every one who knows a bull when he sees her. It may be no bull, but merely a blunder?a betlse, as the French have it. To make sure that we have the true criterion let us first set down a few of the genuine, orthodox Irish kind: He built the wall wider than It was high, so that when it fell down It should be higher than it was wide. Two weary and footsore Irishmen come to a milestone, ten miles to Dublin. "Arrah," said one, " 'tis but five miles apiece." Disputing of the date of St. Patrick's birthday, "He couldn't have had two unelss he was twins." An Irish sailor reported that in Philadelphia they copper bottomed the tops of the houses with sheet lead. Give me the loan of a hatchet to saw an empty barrel of flour in two to make the dog a pigpen. H<is estate is divided by Impenetrable furze ditches made of quarried stones set on edge. An Irishman, describing a glorious flght, said, "There was only one whole nose in the house, and that was the taypot's." In these and in hundreds like them we have the true flavor of the Irish bull. There are genuine bulls in French, but they are rare. The genius of the language does not lend Itself to anything less than neat precision. A French bull is usually nothing more than a betise. Still, French bulls exist. . Leon, Bishop and Count of Llsieux wrote to the Duchess of Brissac as follows: "Madam, knowing how fond you are of red partridges, I send you herewith half a dozen. Three of them are gray, and one is a woodcock. Tou will And this letter in the bottom of the basket." A Frenchman used a large stone jar for a pillow, explaining that it was not hard because he had stuffed it full of hay. The very best French bulls are acted, not spoken. The Duke de St. Simon relates that a lady, lying ill, was much disturbed by the ringing of the church bells. To deaden the noise her lover had the street in front of her house laid with straw. A spoken bull in French is apt to be something different from the Irish variety, something more like a betise, as has been said. And it is difficult to retain the flavor in translation. "Ce sont toujours les memes soldats qui se font tuer," says Marshall Bugeaud of his army. This loses a little when one translates, "It is always the same soldiers who get themselves killed." "En fait d'inutilites 11 ne faut que le necessaire" is more highly colored in the French than in its translation. "Only so many useless things are required as are strictly necessary." Here is the translation of part of an Italian letter: "We have had a most famous earthquake. If by the mercy of God it had lasted for another half hour we should all have gone to paradise, from which may God deliver us. Whether you receive this letter or not, please advise me in either case." Here is a Portuguese bull. In offering a reward for the recovery of the corpse of a drowned man his relatives remarked that the deceased might be Identified, if found, by a slight impediment in his speech. After much research it has been so far impossible to discover a genuine Spanish bull, but here is a Dutch bull: "The pig had no marks on his ears except a short tail." And here is a German bull. "Der Zahn der Zelt, der alle Thranen trocknet, wlrd auch uber diese Sache Oras wachsen lassen" ("the tooth of time, that wipes away all tears, will permit grass to grow over this matter also"). Blunders in English speech are not uncommon. The orthodox bull of Ireland has scarcely crossed the channel. A fellow of the Royal society speaks of "the earthquake that had had the honor to be noticed by the Royal society." "The West Indies will now have a future which they have never had in the past" sounds promising until one sees that its bullish quality is a mere blunder by which the word "opportunity" was omitted. There is none of the flavor of the famous definition of salt by the Irish schoolboy, "Salt is that which makes your potatoes taste nasty if you don't put it In." Even the best of the foreign bulls in Latin tongues evoke the suspicion that they are mere translations from Irish originals. The Dutch, the Germans and perhaps the English may have the genuine article at times. No distinctively American bulls have emerged from the long research that is the foundation of these few paragraphs.? New York Sun. Fourteen Mistakes of Life. We reproduce from an exchange the following which is credited to an English paper. They are called four teen mistakes or lire. 1. To set up our own standard of right and wrong, and Judge people accordingly. 2. To measure the enjoyment of others by our own. 3. To expect uniformity of opinion in this world. 4. To look for Judgment and experience in youth. 5. To endeavor to mold all dispositions alike. 6. To look for perfection in our own actions. 7. To worry ourselves and others with what can not be remedied. S. To refuse to yield in immaterial matters. 9. To refuse to alleviate, so far as lies in our power, all that which needs alleviation. 10. To refuse to make an allowance for the Infirmities of others. 11. To consider everything impossible that we can not perform. 12. To believe only what our own finite minds can grasp.?Greenwood Journal.