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SENTINEL-JOURNAL PUBLISHED WE EKLY. PICKENS, SOUTH CAROT,\AA The outing bad its inning. The empty purse needs no vacation. Vacations are now the regular order of business Unhappy the man who has no rear porch to sleep on. One way to keep time from flying is to watch the clock. Aviators are not considered good in surable propositions. It a girl has pretty teeth she can appreciate a good joke. One way to tell a woman's age is to read it on her tombstone. Don't be stingy. Set a basin of wa ter out in the yard for (he birds. The man who left $3,000 to a parrot didn't -lesorvo to have so much money. According to milliners, hats will be lower uoxt season, but not cheapor we are sure. Think of the sutffering that would ensue It the electric fan crop should be a failure. [lot weather advice-Do not slap your neighbor on the back. lto may be sunhurned. A comfortable bank account is a mighty handy thing to havo when summer comes. Frogs will never become household pets even If they do consume great quantities of house flies. It is a cold day when a new aer plane record is not set, and this is an unusually warm summer. A California man, saved from drowning, gave a dime to his rescuer. It was a good dime, however. The tale that $150,000 worth of am bergris was found in a whale the other day is quite a fish story. Unfortunately there are men who continue to insist on running motor boats without first learning how. A whale killed recently yielded $150,000 worth of ambergris. How much Is your value in elbowgris? Youth wins again. A New York woman wmirted by two brothers o h" A 1'he acceptLed 76. Ther% oud 1 : >1 e mu11ch mon01ey"In1 the sale or mirrors- hat vould Cuiible us to see ourselves as lVpers see us, And now the dloctors say water is a good thing to dr1ink at ideals. It is good to drink at any hour of the day. Chicago announes the invenition of "a safely table knife." Chilcn go no doubt feels the needl of such a de vice. An Indianapolis horse was blown to bits by an ice machine, says an exchange. \Vhy not "blown to chunks?" Scientists toil uis that the winters of the future wvill be warmer, All of which affords us little consolation in summer. A woman in Boston gave a "divorce dinner" to her friends. Divorce, from being a social peril, is now a social function. The women in Paris, according to a leading fashion journal, are dress mad. Ours, we presume, are just d ress-peevedl. A couple of seventy in Massachu setts ran away to get married. It is certainly remarkable howv well Cupid keeps his youth. The housefly has to keep busy be. cause its average life is but three weeks. It should be swatted while it Is very young. If big league baseball scouts know their busincss they wvill keel) at watch ful eye on the Texas youth who has swatted 184,000 flies. When policemen raided a pooiroom in New York it was too hot for the men caught there to run away. Whieh is another way of breaking heat records. it is glimed that there are as manay microbes on a dollar bill as on a fly. Bunt the doilar bill does not make such desperate and continuous efforts to alight on you1. Chicago's cafe bandits have turned their attention to saloons. Something in the eating places may have suggest ed the thirst parlors. Anklets may be considlered proper ny Chicago society women, but it is not likely that they will become popular in Queen Mary's court. In view of the fact that tihe water is tIne it would be a good idea to learn to swim A swimmer has noth. n8g to tear from the fool who rocks the boat. bYLOUIS JOS AUTIIOR OP "THE BRA 0[L[19Y9UM6U0l@00 h7 1 COP YAVGWTH .0Y L.OLS c/.SCR' VAID'CX 4 SYNOPSIS. )avid Amber, starting for a duck-shoot Ing visit with is friend, Qualin. comes up on a yoting lady equestrian who has bees disoiionted b)y her horse beconing fright enedl at the sudden appearance in the roa of it burly Hindlu. le declares lie I Beharl I,al Chatteril, "the appointe lotithpilece of The Hell, aldresses Ambe R- IL ann of high rank and pressing I inysterious little bronze box, "The To ken,"' lito his hand, disappears in th wood. Tho girl calls Amber by nane Ho1 in turn miadresses her ias Miss Sophi arreli. datughter of Col. F"arrell of th 1itishi 11 >nlmatic service in India an visitting the Quains. Several nights late the Qurtla hoine is burglarized and th bronie box stolen. A mher and Quain g huintira'( on tin lantud anl become lost an Amher is l"ft miarooned. Ile wander about, l'inally reaches a cabin and rec ognizes ts its occupant an old fielne natnild 11uttonIt, whom lie last met in Erlg land, atid who appears to be in hiding. CHAPTER IV. (Continued). "T'he same man. le asked me dowl for the shooting-owns a countr, place across the bay: Tanglewood." "A very able man; I wish I migh have met him. . . . What of your self? What have you been doing these three years? Have you married?" "I've been too busy to think o that. ... I mean, till lately." "Ai?" Amher flushed boyishly. "There wai a girl at Quain's-a guest. . . . lBut she left before I dared speak. Per haps it was as well." "Why?" "llecause she was too fine ani sweet aid good for me, Rutton." "Like ev(ry man's first love." The elder man's glance was keen too keen for Amber to dissimulate sue t'essfumlly under it. "You're right, ie adinitted ruefully. 'It's the firs sure-enough trou-ible of tie. sort I eve1 experk need. And, of course, it ha to be lopelets." "\Whmy?" persisted Rutton. "lIecause-l've half a notion there'i a chap waiting for her at home." "At home?'' "In I'ngland." The need for a con fldant was suddenly imperative upo the younigei' man. "She's an Englis girl--half FEnglish, that is; her moth er was an American, a schoolmate o Quain's wife; her father, an English man in the Indian service. "Ier name?" "Sophia Farrell." A peculiar quall ty, a certain tensity, in Rutton's nian ner, forced itself upon Amber's at tention. "Why?" he asked. "Do yot know the Farrells? Vhat's the mat ter?" Rutton's eyes met his stonily; on1 of the ashen mask of his face, thal suddenly had wvhitened beneath thn brown, they glared, afire but unseeing Ills hiand~s writhed, his fingers twisting together wvithi cruel force, the knuckles gray. Abruptly, as if abandoning th< attempt to reassert his self-control, hi jumpedi up andt wvent quickly to a win dow, there to stand, his back to Am her, staring fixedly out into the storm racked night. "I knew her father,' he saidl at length, his tono constraine< andl 0(dd, "long ago, in Indlia." "lHe's out there~ now-a political, believe they call him, or~ something .o the sort." "Yes." "She's going out to rejoin him." "What!" Rutton came swiftly hacl :o Amber, his voice shaking. "WVha did you say?" "Why, yes. She travels with friend: by the western route to join Colone Farroll at D~arjeeling, where he's sta tionedi just now. Shortly after I can< down sho left; Mrs. Quai had a wir< a (lay or so ago, saying she was o1 the point of sailing from San Prati cisco. . . .0Good Lord, Rutton are you ill?" Something in the m~an's face has brought Amber to his feet, a prey t< inexp~ressible concern; it was as If mask had dropped and he were looli ing upon01 the soul of a man in morta torture. "No," gaspedl Rutton, "I'm all right flesides," lhe add~edl beneath hi breath, so that Amber barely caughi the syllables. "it's too late." As rapidiy as he had lost he seemel to regain mastery of his9 inexplicabl emotion, Ils face became again conr posed, almost immobilo, and steppin to the table lhe selectedl a cigarett and rolled it gently between his sltr browvn fingers. "I'm sorry to hav alarmed you," he saId, his tone a bj too even not to breed a doubt in th mind of his hearer. "It's nothing ser ouis-a little trouble of the heart, long standing, incurable-I hope." Per'plexedl, yes hesitating to pres him further, Amber watched him fir tiv'ely, instinctively assured that ben tween this man andI the F'arrells ther existedl some extraordinary bond: wvor dering how that could be, convince in his soul that somehow the entar glement involved the woman he lovec lie still feared to put his supicions t the question, lest lhe should learn tha which lhe had no right to know.. and whlilo ho watched was startled b the change that came ever Rutton. A ease, one moment, outwardly comupoi ed, if absorbed in thought, the next h was rigid, every muscle taut, ever nerve tenise as a steel spring. H hieadl jer'ked back sudd~enlly, his gaz fixIng itself first upon the wvindov then shifting to the door. And hi fingers, contracting, tore the clgarett in half. "Rutton, what the deuce is the ma rPH YANeL; 88 BOWL,." LrTC. Ik 1Lwk-re. Rutton seemed not to hear; Amber got his answer from the door, which was swung wide and slammed shut. A blast of frosty air and a flurry of snow swept across the room. And against the door there leaned a man a puffing for breath and coughing spas r modically-a gross and monstrous bulk of flesh, unclean and unwhole some to the eye, attired in an extrav agant array of colored garments, D tawdry silks and satins clinging, sod 0 I den to his ponderous and unwieldy r limbs. "The babu!" cried Amber unconsci ously; and was rewarded by a flash of recognition from the coal-black, beady, evil eyes of the man. But for that involuntary exclama tion the tableau held unbroken for a space; Rutton standing transfixed, the torn halves of the cigarette between his fingers, his head well up and back, his stare level, direct, uncompromis Ing, a steady challenge to the in t truder. Then, demanding Amber's silence with an imperative movement of his hand, Rutton spake. "Well, babu?" he said quietly, the shadow of a bitter and weary smile curving his thin, hard lips. The Bengali moved a pace or two from the door, and plucked nervously at the throat of his surtout, finally managing to insert one hand in the folds of silk across his bosom. "I seek," he said distinctly in Urdu, and not without a definite note of menace in his manner, "the man call hig himself Rutton Sahib?" Very deliberately Rutton inclined his head. "I am he." t "Hazoor!" The babu laboriously doubled up his enormous body in pro found obeisance. Having recovered, he nodded to Amber with the easy fa miliarity of an old acquaintance. "To you, likewise, greeting, Amber Sa hib." "What!" Rutton swung sharply to Amber with an exclamation of amaze ment. "You know this fellow, David?" The babu cut in hastily, stimulated . by a pressing anxiety to clear himself. f "Ilazor, I did but err, being misled by . his knowledge of our tongue as well as by that pale look of you he wears. And, indeed, is it strange that I should - take him for you, who was told to seek you in this wild land?" "He silent!" Rutton told him an i grily. "Mly lord's will is his slave's." Re signedly the babu folded his fat arms. t "Tell me about this," Rutton do manded of Amber. "The ass ran across me in the woods south of the station, the clay I camne dowvn," explained Amber, sum marizing the episode as succinctly as lie could. "Heb didn't call me by your name, but I've no dlobut he's telling the truth about mistaking me for you. At all events lhe hazoor-ed me a nuim -ber of timies, talked a lot of rot about 'some silly 'Voice,' and finally made I me a free gift of a nice little bronze box that wouldn't open. After which lihe took to his heels, saying he'd call f Iltr for my answer-whbatever lie mecant by that. lIe did call by night and~ stole the box. That's about all I know of him, thus far'. But I'd watch C out for him, if I wvere you; if lie isn't a raving lunatic, I miss my guess." "Indeed, my lord, it is all quite as Sthe sahlb says," the babu admitted Igraciously, his eyes gleaming with sardonic amusement. "Circumstances a conspired to mislead me; but that I was swift to discover. Nor' (11( 1 lose i timo in remedying the error, as you have heard. Moreover-" He shut up suddenly at a sign from Rutton, with a ludicrous shrug of his hiugy shoulders disclaiming any ill-in tent or wrong-doing; andl while Rut ton i'emained deep in thought by the table, the babu held silence, his gaze Iflickering suspiciously round the room. -At length Rutton looked up, sup a pressing a sigh. "Your errand, babu?" t "Is it, then, your will that I should speak before this man?" Trho Bengali i niodided impudently at Amber. s "It is my will." "Shiabash! I bear a message, ha E zoor', froni the Bell." 0 "You are the Mouthpiece of the 0 "That honor is mine, hazoor. For t the rest I am-" e "Behari Lal Chatteri," interrupted ' Rutton impatiently; "soliltor of the f Ininer Temple-disbarred; anointed thief, liar, jackal, lickspittle, and per s jurer-I know you." "My lor-d," said the man insolently, "omits from lisa catalogue of my ac Scomplishimnents my chiefest hotior; lie 'forgets that, with him, I am an ac cepted Member of the Body." "The Body wears strange members that employs you, babu," commented Rutton bitterly. "It has fallen upon evil days when such as you are charged with a message of the feil." "My lord is harsh to one who would be lisa slave in all things. Fortunate e indeed am I to own the protection of the Token." A slow leer widened s greasily upon his moon-like face. e "Alh, the Token!" Hutton repeated ,tensely, beneath his breath. "It is a true that you have the Troken?" e "Aye; it is even here, my lord." The heavy brown hand returned to t- the spot it had sought soon after the babu's entrance, within the folds of silk across his bosom, and groped therein for an instant. "Even here," he iterated with a maddening man ner of supreme self-complacency, pro ducing the bronze box and waddling over to drop it into Rutton's hand. "My lord Is satisfied?" he gurgled ma liciously. Without answering Rutton turned the box over in his palm, his slender fingers playing about the bosses of the relief work; there followed a click and one side of it swung open. The Bengali fell back a pace with a whisper of awe-real or affected: "The Token, hazoor!" Amber him self gasped slightly. Unheeded, the box dropped to the floor. Between Rutton's thumb and forefinger there blazed a great em erald set in a ring of red old gold. He turned it this way and that, in specting it critically; and the lamp light, catching on the facets, struck from it blinding shafts of intensely green radiance. Rutton nodded as if in recognation of the stone and, turning, with an effect of carelessness, tossed it to Amber. "Keep that for me, David, please," he said. And Amber, catching it, dropped the ring into his pocket. "My lord is satisfied with my cre dentials, then?" the babu persisted. "It is the Token," Rutton assented wearily. "Now, your message. Be brief." "The utterances of the Voice be in frequent, hazoor, its words few-but charged with meaning: as you know of old." The Bongali drew himself up, holding up his head and rolling forth his phrases in a voice of great resonance and depth. "These be the words of the Voice, hazoor: 'To All My Peoples: " 'Even now the Gateway of Swords yawns wide, that he who is without fear may pass within; to the end that the Body be purged of the Scarlet Evil. "'The Elect are bidden to the Or deal with no exception." The sonorous accents subsided, and "Till We Meet In the Hall a tense wait ensuedi, none speaking. Rutton stood In stony apathy, his eyes lifted to a dim corner of the ceiling, his gaze-like his thoughts-perhaps ranging far beyond the dreary confines of the cabin in the dunes. Minute after minute pass'ed, lie making no sign, the babu poised before him in inscrutable triumph, wvatching him keenly with his black and 'evil eyes of a beast. Amber hung breathless upon the issue, sensing a conflict of terrible forces in Rutton's mind, but compre hending nothing of their nature. Rut ton awoke as from a sleep. "The Voice has spoken, babu," he said, not ungently, "and I have heard." "And your answer, lord?" "'Thero is no answer." "Hazoor!" "I have saidl," Rutton confirmed, evenly, "there is no answer," "You will obey?" "That is between me and my God. Go back to the Hall of the Bell, B3e harn Lal Chatterji, and deliver your report; say that you have seen me, that I have listened to the words of the Voice, and that I sent no answer." "Hlazoor, I may not. I am charged to return only with you." "Make your peace with the Bell in wvhat manner you will, babu; it is no concern of mine. Go, now, while yet time is granted you to avoid a longer journey this night." "H-azoor!" "Go." Rutton pointed to the door, his voice imperative. Ho rolled sluggishly toward the dloor, dragging his iniadequate over coat across his barrel-like chest; and paused to cough affectingly, with one hand onl the knob. Rutton eyed him contemptuously. '1f you care to run the risk," he said suddenly, "youi may have a chair by the fire till the storm breaks, babu." "Beg ahardon?" The babu,'s eyes widened.~ "Oah, yess; I see. 'if ' care-to jun risk.' Veree considerate of you, jm sure. But as we say in Bengai hee favor of kings isa ass a sword of two edges.' Noah, thanks; the servants of the Bell do not linger by wayside, soa to speak. Besides, I am in great hurree. Mister Amber, good night. Rutton Sahib"-with a flash of his sinister humor-"au re voir; I mean to say, till we meet in thee Hall of thee Bell. Good night." He nodded insolently to the man whom a little time since he had hailed as "my lord," shrugged his coat collar up round his fat, dirty neck, shivered in anticipation, jerked the'door open and plunged ponderously out. A second later Amber saw the con fused mass' of his turban glide past the window. CHAPTER. V. The Goblin Night. Amber whistled low. "Impossiblel" he said thoughtfully. Rutton had crossed to and was bending over a small leather trunk that stood in one corner of the room. In the act of opening it, he glanced over his shoulder. "What?" he de manded sharply. "I was only thinking; there's some thing I can't see through in the ba bu's willingness to go." "He was afraid to stay." "Why?" Rutton, rummaging in the trunk, made no reply. After a moment Am ber resumed. "You know what Bengalis are; that fellow'd do anything, brave any or dinary danger, rather than try to cross that sandbar again-if he really caie that way; which I am inclined to doubt. On the other hand, lie's in telligent enough to know that a night like this in the dunes would kill him. Vell, what then?" Rutton was not listening. As Am ber concluded he seemed to find what he had been seeking, thrust it hur riedly into the breast-pocket of his coat, and with a muttered word, unin telligible, dashed to the door and: flung it open and himself out. With a shriek of demoniac glee the hA of The Bell Good Night." wind entered into and took possession of the room. A cloud of snow swept across the floor like a v'eil. The door battered against the wall as if trying to break it down. The cheap tin kero sene lamp jumped as though caught up by a hand; its flame leapt high and blue above the chimney-and was not. In dar-kness but for the fitful flare of the fire that had been dying in embers on the hearth, Amber, seeking the doorwvay, fell over a chair, blundered flat into the wall, and stumbled un expectedly out of the house. His concern was all for Rutton; ho had no other thought. He ran a little way down the hollow, heartsick with hiorror- and cold with dread. Then lhe paused, bewildered. Whither in that whirling world Rutton might have wandered, it was impossible to sur iuse. In despair the Virginian turned back. When he had found his way to the door of the cabin, it was closed; as he entered and shut it behind him, a match flared and expired in the mid dle of the room, and a man cursed brokenly. "Rutton?" cried Amber in a flush of hope. "Is that ypou, Mr. Amber? Thank Gawd! Wyte a minute." A second match spluttered, its flame waxing in the pink cup of Dog gott's hands. He succeeded in setting fire to the wick. The light showed him barefoot and shivering in sirmt and trousers. "For pity's syke, sir, w'at's 'appened?" "It's hard to say," replied Amber vaguely, preoccupied, Hie went im medliately to a window and stood there, looking out. "But w'ere's Mr. Rutton, sir?" "Gone-out ther-e-I don't know just wher-e." Anmber moved back to the table. "You see, lie had a calloer." "A caller-, sir-on a night like this?" "The man lie came lhere to hide from," said Amber. "1 knewv 'e was tryin' to dodge somethin', sir; but 'e never told mec naught about it. Wha tm ind ofap son was 'e, sir, and 'what made M4 Rutton go aw'y with 'Sm?" "He didn't; he went after hin to Amber caught his tongue on the verge of an indiscretign; no mat ter what his fears, they were not yet become a suitable 'subject for discus sion with Rutton's servant. "I think," he amended lamely, "he had forgotten something." "And 'e's out there now! My Ga*d, what a night!" He hung in hesitation for a little. "Did 'e wear 'is topcoat and 'at, sir?" "No! he went suddenly. I don't think he intended to be gone long." "I'd better go after 'im, then. 'E'll 'ave pneumonia. . . . I'll just jump into me clothes and-" He slipped into the back room, to reappear with surprisingly little delay, fully dressed and buttoning a long ulster round his throat. "You didn't 'appen to no tice which w'y 'e went, sir?" "As well as I could judge, to the east." Doggott took down a second ulster and a cap from pegs in the wall. "I'll 4 do my best to find 'im; 'e might lose 'imself, you know, with no light nor nothin'." The door slammed behind him. Alone, and a prey to misgivings he scarce dared name to himself, Am ber from the window watched the blot of light from Doggott's handlamp fade and vanish in the storm; then, becom ing sensible to the cold, went to the MW fireplace, kicked the embers together until they blazed, and piled on more fuel. A cozy, crackling sound began to be audible In the room, sibilant Jets of flame, scarlet, yellow, violet, and green, spurted up from the driftwood. Under the hypnotic influence of the comforting warmth, weariness de scended upon Amber like a burden; he was afraid to close his eyes or to sit down, lest sleep should overcome him for all his intense excitement and anxiety. lie forced himself to move steadily round the room, struggling against a feeling that all that he had witnessed must have been untrue, an evil dream, akin to the waking vis ions that had beset him between the loss of Quain and the finding of Rute ton. The very mediocrity of the surw roundings seemed to discrelit thah testimony of his wits. In a setting so hopelessly common place and everyday, one act of a drama of blood and fire had been played; into these mean premises the breath of the storm, as the babu en tered, had blown Romance. . . Incredible! And yet Amber's hand, dropping idly in his coatpocket, encountered a priceless witness to the reality of what had passed. Frowning, troubled, he drew forth the ring and slipped it upon his finger; rays of blinding em erald light coruscated from, it, daz zling him. With a low cry of wonder he took it to the lamplight. Never had he looked upon so finefg-itone, so strangely cut. It was set in ruddy soft gold, work ed and graven with exquisite art in the semblance of a two-headed cobra; Inside the band was an inscription so worn and faint that Amber exp~er ienced some diffiulty in dliciphering the word Rae (king) in Devanagari, flanked by swvastikas. Aside from the stone entirely, he speculated, the value of the ring as an antique would have prVoven inestimable. As for the emerald itself, in its original state, before cutting, it must have been worth the ransom of an emperor; much had certainly been sacrificed to fashion it in its present form. To gaze into its dlepths was like questioning the inscrutable green heart of the sea. Fascinated, Amber felt his consciousness slip from himt as a mantle might slip from his shoul ders; awake, staring wide-eyed into the emerald eye, he forgot self, for got the world, and dreamed, dreamed puriou sly.... The crash of the door closing be hind him brought him to the right. about in a lpanic flutter, He glared stupidly for a time before comprc. hending that Rutton and Doggott had returned. If there were anything peculiar in his manner, Rutton did not remark it. Indeed, he seemedl unconscious, for a time, of the presence either of Amber or of Doggott. The servant relieved him of his overcoat and hat, andl ho strodle directly to the fire, bending over to chafe and warm his frost nllpped hands. Unquestionably he la bored under the influence of an ex traordinary agitation. Ills limbs twitched and jerked nervously; his eyebrowvs were tensely elevated, his eyes blazing, his nostrils dlilated; his face was ashen gray. From across the room D~oggott sig naled silence to Amber, with a foire finger to his lips; andl with a discre tion bred of long knowledge of his master's temper, tiptoed through into the back room and shut the door. Amber respected the admonition throughout a wait that seemed end less. (TO nfl (ONTINUIED.) Significant. "A barber was picked up on the sidewvalk yesterday, foaming at the mouth." "What, do you suppose, brought on his attack?"~ "I don't know, b~ut he was found in front of a billboard, on whieh there was a safety-razor advertisement 2(4 feet high." Where the Charm Failed. Loomiis--Carey, the aviator, seenms to bear a charmed life; trip after trip he has made in his airship, ascending hundreds of feet, and never has had '.he sign of an accident, Ranler--But I heard he broke his. leg yesterdlay. Loomis--Oh, he broke that by fal, ing down his cellar stairs.