Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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W~eDil x BILOULS JO3e AUT11 or "THE DRAWN U11UaMhUO?D0 bY M~ COPR9/GHT Bv LO//1 1oYZw yA4iyg SYNOPSIS. David Amber, starting for a duck-shoot- t Ing visit with hi. friend, Quain,. comes up en a young lady equestrian who has been lmoun~ted by her horse becoming fright- e ened at the sudden appearanoe in the road of a burly Hindu. He dOclares he is Behari Lal Chatterii "the appointed f mouthpiece of the Doll,' addresses Amber as a man of high rank and pressin a yatorious little bronze box. "The To. ken," Into his hand disappears in the wood. The girl cals Amber by name. He in turn addresses her as Miss Sophie i Farroll, daughter of Col. Farrell of the British diplomatic service in India and Vislting the Qualna. Soveral nights later 0 the Quain home is burglarized and the ronz* b6x stolen. Amber and Quain go nunting on an island and become lost and M Amber is left marooned. He wanders about, finally reaches a cabin and rec ognizes an its occupant an old friend d named Rutton, whom he last met in Eng- a land, and who appoars to be in hiding. When Miss Farrell is mentioned Rutton is C strangely agitated. Chatterji appears ( and summons Rutton to a meeting of a mys.terious body. Rutton seizes a revol- N1 wer and dashes after ChatterJil. 0 CHAPTER V. (Continued). Suddenly Rutton started and wheel ed round, every trace of excitement smoothed away. Meeting Amber's gaze he nodded as if casually, and said, "Oh, Amber," quietly, with an effect of faint surprise. Then he dropped heavily into a chair by the table. "Well," he said slowly, "that Is over." Amber, without speaking, went to his side and touched his shoulder with that pitifully inadequate gesture of sympathy which men so frequently e employ. "I killed him," said Rutton dully. c "Yes," replied Amber. He was not a surprised; he had apprehended the r tragedy from the moment that Rutton had fled him. t After a bit Rutton turned to the r table and drew an automatic pistol d from his pocket, opening the maga- s zine. Five cartridges remained in n the clip, showing that two had been exploded. "I was not sure," he said thoughtfully, "how many times I had p fired." His curiosity satisfied, he re- t loaded the weapon and returned it to 11 his pocket. "He died like a dog," he t said, "whimpering and blaspheming in the face of eternity . . . out a there in the cold and the night. . . . c It was sickening-the sound of the r bullets tearing through his flesh. .." He shuddered. "Didn't he resist?" Amber asked in- t to ' 117y. ti He t.. ue let him pop away b with his revolver unfli'it was empty. Then . . ." ( "What made you wait?" t "I didn't care; it didn't matter. One 1 of us had to die tonight; he shouldt have known that when I refused to t accompany him back to . . . I was hungry for his bullet more than t for his life; I gave him every chance. 1 But it had to be an it was. That was r Fate." t With a wrench Amber pulled him- t self together. "Rutton," he demanded t suddenly, without premeditation, "what are you/ going to do?" "Do?" Hutton looked up, his eyes a perplexed. "Why, what is there to do? t aet away as best I can, I pr-esume-- r seek another hole to hide in."c "But how about the law?" "The law? Why need it ever be known-what has happened tonight? I I can count on your silence- I have no need to ask. Doggott would die rather than betray me. Ho and I can dispose of-it, No one comes here at this time of the year save hunting parties; and their eyes are not upon the ground. You will go your way in I the morning. We'll clear out im-i mediately after," "You'd better take no chances." 1 Suddenly Rutton smote the table with his fist. "Dly Indur!" he swore strangely, his voice quaver-ing with joy; "I had not thought of that!" He jumped up and began to move excited- i iy to and fro. "I am free! None but y'ou and I know of the passing of the< Token andl the delivery of the me- I sage-none can possibly know fori days, perhaps weeks, For so much< time at least I am in no danger of--" He shut his moulth like a trap on words that might have enlightened Amber. "Of what?" "L~et me see: there are still waste places in the world where a man may lose himself, There's Canada the Hudson bay region, Labrador. A discreet knock sounded on the door in the partition, and it was open ed gently. Doggott appeared on the1 threshold, pale and careworn. Rut-1 ton paused, facing him. "Well?" "Any orders, sir?" "Yes; begin packing up. We leave tomorrow." "Very good, sir." Rutton replenished the fire and stood with his back to it, smiling al most happily. All evidence of remorse had disappeared "Freei" he cried soft ly. "And by the simplest of solutions. Strange that I should never have thought before tonight of-"' lHe glanced carelessly toward the win dow; and it was as if his lips had been wiped clean of speech. Amber turned, thrilling, his flesh creeping with the horror that he had divined in Rutton's transfixed gaze. Outside the glass, that was lightly silvered with frost, something moved PH VANE4 DOWs. LTe. IT WAMIlT he spectral shadow of a turbaned Load-moved and was stationary for he space of 20 heartbeats. Beneath he turban Amber seemed to see two yes, wide starig and terribly alight. "God!" cried Rutton thickly, jerking arth his pistol. The shadow vanished. With a single thought Arnber prang upon Rutton, snatched the reapon from his nerveless fingers, nd, leaping to the door, let himself ut. The snow had ceased; only the rind raved with untempered force. Cautiously, and, to be frank, a bit Ismayed, Amber made a reconnais ance, circling the building, but dis overed nothing to reward his pains. inly, before the window, through rhich he had seen the peering tur aned head, he found the impressions f two feet, rather deep and definite, jes pointing toward the house, as lough 'some one had lingered there, >oking in. The sight of them reas ured him ridiculously. "At least," he reflected, "disembod 3d spirits leave no footprints!" He found Rutton precisely as he ad left him, his very attitude an un ttered question. "No," Amber told him, "he'd made quick getaway. The marks of his et were plain enough, outside the iindow, but he was gone, and . . somehow I wasn't overkeen to fol )w hini up." "Right," said the older man deject dly. "I might have known Chatterji nild not have come alone. So my rime was futile." le spoke without pirit, as if completely fagged, and loved slowly to the door. "David, a little while ago I promised a ask your aid if ever the time hould come when I might be free to o so; I said, 'That hour will never trike.' Yet already it is here; I ced you. Will you help me?" "You know that." "I know. . . . One moment's atience, David." Rutton glanced at he clock. "Time for my medicine," e said; "that heart trouble I men loned. . . . He drew from a waistcoat pocket a mall silver tube, or phial, and un orking this, measured out a certain umb~r of drops into a silver spoon. ,s he swallowed the dose the phial lipped from his fingers and rang pon the hearthstone, spilling its con ants in the ashes. A pungent and eady odor flavored the air. "No matter," said Rutton indiffer ntly. "I shan't need it again for some 1110." He picked up and restored the hial to his pocket. "Now let me hink a bit." He took a quick turn up he room and down again. '.'A mad (lance," he observed boughitfully: "this thing we call life. V'e meet and whirl asunder-motes in sunbeam. Tonight Destiny chose to hiq~w us together for a little space; omorrow we shall bo irrevocably part. d, for all time." "Don't say that, Rutton." "It is so written, David." The man's mile was strangely placid. "After his night, we'll never meet. In the norning Doggott will ferry you ver -" "Shan't we go together?" "No," said Rutton serenely; "I must eave before you." "Without Doggott?" "Without Doggott; I wish him to ;o with you." "Where ?" "On the errand I am going to ask< 'ou to do for me. You are free to eave this country for several nonths?" "Quito. I corrected the final gal eys of my 'Analysis of Sanskrit Liter-1 Lture' just before I came down. Now 'ye nothing on my mind-or hands. 1 lo on."1 "Walt." Rutton went a secondl time o the loather trunk, lifted the lid, bud came back with two small par' els. The one, which appeared to con atin documents of somel sort, he cast egligently on the fire, with the air< tf one who destroys that which is no onger of value to him. It caught Im nediately and began to flame andI moke and smoulder. The other wasi everal inches square and fiat, wrap-1 ed in plain paper, without a super-I cription, and sealed with several leavy blobs of red wax. Rutton drew a chair close to Amber1 rind sat down, breaking the seals nethodically. "You shall go on a long journey, )avid," he said slowly-"a long jour tey, to a far land, where you shall >rave perils that I may not warn you rgainst. It will put your friendship to ho test." "I'm ready." The elder man ripped the cover 'rem the packet, exposing the back yf what seemed to be a photograph. Feolding this to the lght, its face in visible to Amber, he studIed it for ;everal minutes, in silence, a tender light kindling in his eyes to soften the ilmost ascetic austerity of his expr'es-1 sion. "In the end, if you live, you shall win'- rich reward," he said at length. lie placed the photograph race down upon the table. "Hlow-a reward?" "The love of a woman worthy of you, David." 'But-!" In consternation Amber rose, almost knocking ever his chair. "Bu--.reat Scott. man!" "Bear with me, David, for yet a lit 1o while," Rutton begged. "Sit down." "All right, but-!" Amber resumed As .seat, staring. "You and Doggott are to seek. her )Ut, wherever she may be, and rescue ier from what may be worse than leath. And it shall come to pass that 'qu shall love one another and marry md live happily ever after-just as hough you were a prince and she an mchanted princess In a fairy tale, Da rid." "I must say you seem pretty damn ure about It!" "It must be so, David; it shall be oi I am an old man-older than you hink, perhaps-and with age 'there ometimes comes something strange y akin to the gift of second-sight. So know it will be so, though you think ae a madman." "I don't, indeed, but you Vell! I give it up." Amber laughed ineasily. "Go on. Where's this maid in in distress?" "In India-I'm not sure just where. rou'll find 4er, however." "And then-?" "Then you are to bring her home vith you, without delay." "But suppose-" "You must win her first; then she rill come gladly." "Dut I've just told you I loved an 'ther woman, Rutton, and besides-" "You mean the Miss Farrell you nentioned?" "Yes. I-" "That will be no obstacle." "What! How in thunder d'you mow it won't?" Amber expostulated. L faint suspicion of the truth quick ined his wits. "Who is this woman lou want me to marry?" "My daughter." "Your daughter!" "My only child, David." "Then why won't my-my love for sophia Farrell interfere?" "Because," said Rutton slowly, "my laughter and Sophia Farrell are the anie. . . . No; listen to me; I'm iot raving. Hero is my proof-her atest photograph." He put it into tnber's hands. Dazed, the younger man stared Studied It' for Sever >dankly at the likeoness of the woman me loved: it was unquestionably she. He gasped, trembling, astounded. 'Sophia . . .!" he said thickly, col >ring hotly. He was conscious of a ightening of his throat muscles, ma Cing speech a matter of diflculty. "But -but-" ho stammered. "Hler mother," said Rutton softly, ooking away, "was a Russian noble voman. Sophia is Farrell's daughtor y adoption only. Farrell was ,once ny closest friend. WVhen my wife lied . . ." Hie covered his eyes ,vith his hand and remained silent for a 'ow seconds. "When Sophia was left n~otherless, an infant in arms, Farrell >ffered~ to adopt her. Because I be sameo, ab~out that time, aware of this iorror that has p)oisoned my life--this :hing of which you have seen some ~hing tonight-I accepted on conditeon hat the tr-uth ho never revealedl to mer. It cost me the friendship of Far 'ell; ho was then but lately married ind--and I thmought it dangerous to be seen with hinm too much. I loft Eng andl, having settled upon my daughter :he best part of my fortune, retaining 'mly enough for my needs. From that lay I never saw her or heard from LParrell. Yet I know I could trust riim. Last summer, when my daugh ter was presented at court, I was itt Uondon; I discovered the name of her photographer and bribed him to nell me this." He indicated the photo graph. "And she doesn't know!" "She must never know." Ruttors Leaned forward and caught Amber's band in a compelling grasp. "Re cnember' that. Whatever you do, my aame must never pass your lips-withi referenee to herself, at least. No one mst even suspect that you know me -Farrell least of all." "Sophia knows that now," said Am. bor. "QuaIn and I spoke of you one( night, but the name mado no impres mion on her. I'm sure of that." "That is good; Farrell has beer true. Now . . you will go t( india?" "K will go." Amber promised. "You will be kind to her, and true, David? You'll love her faithfully and make her love you?" "I'll do my best," said the young man humbly. "It must be so-she must be taught to love you. It is esseitial, impera tive, that she marry you and leave In dia with you without a day's delay." Amber sat back in his chair, breath ing quickly, his mouth tense. "I'll do my best. But, Rutton, why? Won you tell me? Shouldn't I know-, who am to be her husband, her protec tor?" "Not from me. I am bound by an oath, David. Some day It may be that you will know. Perhaps not. You may guess what you will-you have much to go on. But from me, noth ing. Now, let us settle the details. I've very little time." He glanced again at the shoddy tin clock, with a slight but noticeable shiver. "How's that? It's hours till morn Ing." "I shall never see the dawn, David," said Rutton quietly. "What-" "I have but ten minutes more of life. . . . If you must know-in a word: poison. . . . That I be saved a blacker sin, David!" "You mean that medicine-the sil ver phial?" Amber stammered, sick with horror. "Yes. Don't be alarmed; it's slow but sure and painless, dear boy. It works infallibly within half an hour. There'll be no agony-merely the drawing of the curtain. Best of all, it leaves no traces; a diagnostician would call it heart-failure. . . And thus I escape that." He nodded cdolly toward the door. "But this must not be, Rutton!" Amber rose suddenly, pushing back his chair. "Something must be done. Doggott-" "Not so loud, please-you might alarm him. After it's all over, call him. But now-it's useless; the thing is done; there's no known antidoto. Be kind to ma, David, in this hour of mine extremity. There's much still to be said between us . . . and in at Minutes, In Silence. seven minutes more ... Rutton retained his clutch upon Am ber's hand; and his eyes, their luster dimmed, held Amber's, pitiful, pas sionate, inexorable in their entreat~y. Amber sat down, his soul shaken with the pity of it. "Ah-h!I" sighed Hutton. Relieved, the tension relaxed; he released Am ber's hand; his body sank a little in the chair. Becoming conscious of this, ho pulled himself together.... "Enter India by way of Calcutta," he said Ain a dull and heavy voice. "There, In the Machua bazar, you wvill find a goldsmith and money lender called Dhola flakish. Go to him se cretly, show him the r.ing-thme Token. ie wvill understand and do all in his power to aid you, should there bo any trouble aboitt your' leaving with So phia. To no one else in India are you to mention my name. Deny me, If taxed with knowIng me. Do you un der'stand ?" "No. Why?" ~Never mind--but remember these two things: you do not know me and you must under no circumsmtancos have anything to do with the police. They could do nothing to help you; on the other hand, to be seen with them, to have it known that you communicate with them, would be the equivalent of a seal upon your death warrant. You remember the money lender's name?" "Dhola Dlakash of the Machu ba zar." "Trust him-and trust Doggott.. . . Four minutes more!" "Rutton!" cried Amber in a broken voice. Cold sweat broke out upon his forehead. The man smiled fearlessly. "Believe me, this is the boetter way-the only way. . . . Sonm (lay you may meet a little chap nmed labertouche -a queer fish I once know in Cal cutta. 'But I dar'esay ho's (lead by new. But if you should meet him, toll him that you've secen his D-Formnula workc flawlessly In one instance at leanst. You see. ho dabbled in chem istry and entomology and a lot of un common pur.uit.-a soicitor b-. .r fession, he peter seeme; to have any practise to speak of-and he invented this stuff and named it the B-Form ula." Rutton tapped the silver phial in his waistcoat pocket, smiling faint ly. "He was a good little man. . . . Two minutes. Strange how little one cares, when it's inevitable...." He oeased to speak and closed his eyes. A great stillness made itself felt within the room. In the other, Doggott was silent-probably asleep. It wa Closo upon two in the morn ing. .' , I "Amber," said Jutton suddenly and very clearly, "you') find a will in my dispatch box. Dogg (;, 11 to have all I possess. The emerald .,ring-the Token--I give to you." "Yes, I---" *, "Your hand. . . . Mine is cold Y No? I fancied it was," said the man drowsily. And later: "Sophia. You will be kind to her, David?" "On my faith!" Rutton's fingers tightened cruelly upon his, then relaxed suddenly. lie began to nod, his .chin drooping to ward his breast. "The Gateway . . . the Bell The words were no more than whis pers dying on lips that stilled as they spoke. For a long time Amber sat unmov ing, his fingers imprisoned in that quiet, cooling grasp, his thoughts astray in a black mist of mourning and bewilderment. Out of doors something made a cir cuit of the cabin, like a beast of the night, steal'.hy footsteps muffled by the snow: pad-pad-pad . . . In the emerald ring on Amber's finger the deathless fire leaped and pulsed. CHAPTER VI. Red Dawn. Presently Amber roso and quietly exchanged dressing gown and slippers for his own shooting Jacket and boots -which by now were dry, thanks to Doggott's thoughfulness in placing them near tho fire. The shabby tin clock had droned through 30 minutes since Rutton had spoken his last word. In that intor val, sitting face to face, and for a lit tle time hand in hand, with the man to whomi he had pledged. his honor, Amber had thought deeply, carefully weighing wnys and means; nor did be move until he believed his plans ma ture and definito. Iut before he could take one step toward redeeming his word to Rut ton, he had many cares to dispose of. In the hut, Rutton lay dead of poison; somewhere among the dunes the babu lay in his blood, shot to death-foully murdered, the world would say. Should these things become known, he would be detained indefinitely in No komis as a witness--if, indeed, he es. caped a graver charge. ft was, then, with a mind burdened with black anxiety that he went to arouse Doggott. "Mr. Rutton is dead, Doggott," he managed to say with some difficulty. Doggott exclaimed beneath his breath. "Dead!" he cried in a tone of daze. In two strides he had left Ain ber and was kneeling by Rutton's side. The most cursory examination, however, sufficed to resolve lisa every doubt. "Dead!" whispered the servant. He rose and stood swaying, his lips a-tremble, his eyes blinking through a mist, bis head bowed. "'10 always was uncommon' good to me, Mr. Am bor," he said brokenly. "It's a bit 'ard, comin' this w'y. 'Ow--'ow did it-" Heb broke down completely for a time. When he had himself in more con trol Amber told him as briefly as pos sible of the head at the window and of its sequel-Rlutton's despairing sui cide. Doggott listened in silence, nodding his comprehension. "I've always look ed for it, sir," lhe commented. "'IC'd warned me never to touch that silver tube; 'e never saidl poisoni, but I sus pected it. 'o being bluo and melan choly-like, by fits and turns-'e never told me why." Then, reverontly, they took up the body and laid it out upon the hami mock-bod. Doggott arranging the limbs and closing the eyes before spreading a sheet ever the rigid form. "And now, what, Mr. Amber?" he asked. "Mr. Rutton spoke of a dispatch box, Doggott. You know where to find it?" "Yea, sir." (TO BTC CONTrINUE'D.) Salutary Example. Eivery legal expedient for delhi baving been exhausted, and their ap peal for executive clemency having been madie in vain to the president, five wealthy Alabama lumbermnio have entered the federal prison at At lanta to serve penal sentences for the crime of peonago. Pity will lie ex tended to the families of these men. but the event itself cannot but 1)0 re garded as one of lb. most important and significant in the whole 'ourse of the recent awakening of the pulb lie conscience. it is a dlemonstration to the country that only by hollding to personal accountability the mon re sponsible for violntion of the law car respect and obedience to law he en forced. The futility of fines as a ipun ishment in much cases has beer shown, but it will only require a ion such applicath~ms of the law as in these Alabama convictions to instill a wholesome regardl for law every wvhere.-Exchango. Contrary Enthusiasm. "lPuinny, wasni't lI, how that lcctur'e warmed up to his subject." "Why so?" "liccause it wvas on cold storagt( Bialtimore American. iNFLAM. MATION AND PAIN Cured by Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound. Creston, Iowa.-" I was troubled for ong time with inflammation, pains In my side sick headaches and ner vousness. I had ta. ken so many medl. cines that I w as discourated and thought would Dover get well. A d told me of Phikham's Weg 0t a t 1't om. pound and 1 r1* stored me to healt.." as I have no more aiumy nerves are stronger and I can Unty. o my*ow1nork. Lydia E. Pinkham's for Vegetable Compound cured me after everything else had failed, and I rec. onimend it to other suffering women." -Mas. WM. SEALS 005 W. Howard St., Creston, Iowa. Thousands of unsolicited and genu. ine testimonials like the above prove the efficiency of Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound, which is made exclusively from roots and herbs. Women who suffer from those dis. tressing ills should not lose sight of these facts or doul the ability of Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound to restore their health. 1f yo want special advice write to Mrs. Pinkham, at Lynn, Mass. She will treat your letter as strictly confidential. For 20 years she has been helping sick women in this way, free of charge. Don't hesitate-write at once. SAVE YOUR MONEY. "1. One box of Tsstt's Pills save nny dollar. In doc tors' hills. Cioro disases of tho liver or bowels. I-or sick headache, dyspepsia, mnalaria, consti. Patlon and biliousness, a million people endures Tuft's Pills WAS IT ABSENT-MINDEDNESS? Mrs. Nelson-My husband is awfully absent-milnded. Mrs. Blilson--In what way? Mrs. Nelson-Hie went fishing ye. terday. when ho had finished he threw away the fish and brought horn. the bait. Could Take Her Choice. As the railroad train wvas stopping, an old lady not accustomed to travel ing, hailed the passing conductor and asked: "Conductor, what door shall I get out by?" "Eithier door, ma'am," graciously answered the conductor. "The car stops at both ends."--Galesburg Mai. A Thirst for Information. "Say, paL?" "what is it?" "Who made the after-dinner speeches at Ilelshazzar's reast?" A Commuter's Explanation. -the man in tho Iron maisk exliained. 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