Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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Wl PAGE SIX ??faKMU- I" l"?TiSl| TltellkHiD" By HAROLD j Illustrated from Scenes i\ :5 Same A' attic by the Thai . nt' P W WWIWWtnWWWW^WWBnHyMWBMWBFMH Mmbm- ^ unu . r .vnwr * jTTwr wr-. * v (Copyright, iyi4, bj CHAPTER I. A Call In the Night. Tliere are few things darker than a r? t r\r 4- 1 11 1 ? 1 wuiiti j luau en, mgiii, particularly 11 0110 docs not know the lay of the land. It is not difflcult to traverse a known path; no matter how dark it It, one is able ^o find the way by the aid of a mental photograph taken in the daytime. l>ut. supposing you have never been over the road in the daytime, that you know nothing whatever of its topography, where it dips or rises, where it narrows or forks. You find yourself in the same unhappy ^ state of mind as a blind man suddenly thrust into a strange house. One black night, along a certain country road in the heart of New Jersey, in the days when the only good roads \\t>re city thoroughfares and country highways were routes to limbo, a carriage went forward cautiously. From time to time it careened liko a blunt-nose barge in a beam sea. The wheels and springs voiced their anguish continually; for it was a good carriage, unaccustomed to such ruts and hummocks. "Faster, faster!" came a muffled voice from the interior. "Sir. 1 dare not drive any faster," ? replied the coachman. "I can't see the . horses' heads, sir, lot alone the road. I've blown out the lamps, but I can't see the road any better lor that." "Lot the horses have their heads; _ they'll find the way. It can't be much L n*~~1farther. You'll see lights." t : WAclimaif'' swore in his teeth, idl right. This man who was in such a hurry would probably send them all into the ditch. Save for the few stars above, ho might have been driving Beelzebub's coach in the bottomless pit. Black velvet, everywhere black velvet. A wind was blowing, and yet the blackness was so thick that it gave to the coachman the sensation of mild suffocation. By and by, through the trees, ho saw a flicker of light. It might or might not be the destination. He cracked his whip recklessly and the Sill ;>r:?v";^'<", - / Sp <? -< >'. -S ># H ** > - ?|gg >.M:- f> *: Jill ! ' . M3&. % :. #f;si I ^ is Mr* - ' fS& &p , UW-, ;: ' \s V,*; AVr"ir- <#$$$ 1 R u a ' A Mwm $fs &?? H |MfI p| ^^ ^ ^ 1 "Why, You Cherub!" Cried the Old Maid. carriage lurched on two wheels. The man in the carriage balanced himself carefully, so that the bundle in his arms should not be unduly disturbed. His arms ached. lie stuck his head out of the window. "That's the place," lie said. "And when you drive up make as little noiso I as you can." "Yes, sir," called down the driver. | "When tho carriage drew up at Us journey's end tho man inside jumped out and hastened toward the gates. Jle scrutinized the sign on one of the posts. This was the place: MIPS FAItLOW'S PRIVATE SCHOOL. Tho bundle in his arms stirred and he hurried up the path to the door of the house. He seized tho ancient knocker and struck several times, lie then placed the bundle on Hie steps and ran back to the waiting carriage, into which he stepped. "Off with you!" "That's a good word, sir. Maybe we can make your train." "Ho you think you could find this place again?" "You couldn't get me on tbls pike an in, sir, for a thousand; not me!" The door slammed and tho unknown sank back against the cushions. He took out his handkerchief and wiped the damp perspiration from his forehead. Tho big burden was off his 4 mind. Whatever happened in the future, they would never be able to get him through his heart. So much fori ths folly oi his youth. \ ; CjV v* j V . ttg ? X t! . A HHKCil :J&rL. * * DOar Mystery MAC GRATH ~ **" r? the Photo Drama of the I nhouser Film Company Ml |J jt ; Lwwold AlucUruiU) It was a quarter after ton. Miss Susan barlow had just returned to the yception room from her nightly tcur of the upper halls to see if all her charges were in bed, where the rules of the school confined them after 9:30.! Jt was at tliis moment that she heard mo thunderous knocking at the door. The old maid felt her heart stop beating for a moment. Who could it be, at this time of night? Then the thought came swiftly that perhaps the parent of some one of her charges was ill and this was the summons. Stilling her fears, she went resolutely to the door and opened it. "Who is it?" she called. No one answered. She cupped her hand to her ear. She could hear the clatter of horses dimly. "Well!" she exclaimed; rather angrily, too. She was in the act of closing the door when the light from the hall discovered to her the bundle on the steps. She stooped and touched it. "Good heavens, it's a child!" She picked the bundle up. A whimper came from it, a tired little whim- j per of protest. She ran back to the reception room. A foundling! And on her doorstep! \ It was incredible. What in the world Should she do? It would create a scantlal and hurt tho prestige of the schoolA Some one had i mistaken her select school! for a farmhouse. U^as frightful. Then she uin^fapi>ed the child. It wivs about JWyear old, dimpled and goldefr haij^d. A thumb was in its rosebud mouth and its blue eyes looked up trustfully into her own. "Why, you cherub!" cried the old maid, a strange turmoil in her heart. She caught the child to her breast, and then for the first time noticed the thick envelope pinned to the child's cloak. She put the baby into a chair; and broke open the envelope. "Name this child Florence Gray. I j will send annually a liberal sum for! her support and reclaim her on hevj eighteenth birthday. The other half of the inclosed bracelet will identify me. Treat the girl well, for 1 shall ! watch over her in secret." Into the fixed routine of her hum-1 drum life had come a mystery, a tantalizing, fascinating mystery. She had re;:d of foundlings left on doorsteps ?from paper covered novels confiscated from her pupils?but that one should be placed upon her own re- i >speetablo doorstep! Suddenly she j smiled down at the child and the: child smiled back. And there was! nothing more to be done except to bow before the decrees of fate. Like all prim old maids, her heart was fuj I of unrequited romance, and here was something she might spend its floods j upon without let or hindrance. Already she was hoping that the man or woman who had left it might never come back. The child grew. Regularly each year, upon a certain date, Miss Far low j received a registered letter with money. These letters came from all parts of the world; always the same sum, always the same line?"I am watching." Thus seventeen years passed; and to Susan Farlow each year seemed shorter than the one before. For she loved the child with all her heart. She had not trained young girls all these years without becoming adept in the art of reading the true signs of breeding. There was no ordinary blood in Florenco; the fact was emphasized by her exquisite face, her small hands and feet, her spirit and gentleness. And now, at any day, some one with a broken bracelet might come for her. As the days went on the heart of Susan Farlow grew heavy. "Never mind, aunty," said Florence; "I shall always come back to see you." She. meant it., poor child; but how was she to know the terrors which lay beyond tho horizon? Tho house of Stanley Hargreave, in Riverdalo, was the house of no ordinary rich man. Outside it was simple enough, but within you learned what kind of a man Hargreavo was. There wero rare Ispahans and Saruks 011 the floors and tapestries on the walls, and here and there a fine paint ing. The library itseir represented a fortune. Money had been laid out lavishly but never wastefully. It was the homo of a scholar, a dreamer, a wide traveler. In the library stood the master of tho house, idly fingering some papers which lay on the study table. He shrugged at some unpleasant thought, settled his overcoat about his shoulders, took up his hat, and walked from the room, frowning slightly. Tho but1 r, who also acted in the capacity of valet, always within call when his master was about, stepped swiftly to the hull door and opened it. "f may bo out late, Jones," said I fargroave. "Yes, sir." ? THE HORRY HERA Hargreave stared into his face keen-. ly, as if trying to pierce the grave face to learn what was going on behind it. "How long have you been with me?" "Fourteen years, sir." "Some day 1 shall need you." "My life has always bi.cn at your disposal, s!r, since that night you rescued me." "Well, I haven't the least doubt that when I ask you will give." "Without question, sir. It was always so understood." Hargroave's glance sought the mirror, then the smileless face of his man. He laughed, but the sound conveyed no sense of mirth; then lie turned and went down the steps slowly, like a man burdened with some thought which was not altogether to his liking. He had sent an order for his car, but had immediately countermanded it. lie would walk till ho grow tired, hail a taxicab, and take a run up and down Broadway. The wonderful illumination might prove diverting. For 18 years nearly; and now it was as natural for him to throw a glance over his shoulder whenever he left the house as it was for him to breathe. The average man would have grown careless during all these years; but Hargreave was not an average man; he was, rather, an extraordinary individual. It was his life in exchange for eternal vigilance, and he knew and accepted the fact. Half an hour later he got into a taxicab and directed the man to drive downtown as far as Twenty-third street and back to Columbus circle, j The bewildering display of lights, however, in nowise served to lift the sense of oppression that had weighed upon him all day. South of Forty-second street he dismissed the taxicab and stared undecidedly at the brilliant sign of a famous restaurant. He was mutner nungry nor thirsty; but there would be strange faces to study and music. It was an odd whim. He had not entered a H road way restaurant in all these years. He unknown. He i v ** The Introductions Were Made. belonged to no cl-^bs. Two months was the longest time he had ever re- j mained in New York since the disposal of his old home in Madison avenue and his resignation from his civ.ob. Tins once, then, he would break the law he had written down for himself. Boldly he entered the reav taurant. Some time before llargreave surrendered to the restless spirit, of rehellion, bitterly to repent for it later, there came into this restaurant, a nu n and a woman. They were both evidently well known, for the head waiter was obsequious and hurried them over, to the best table lie had left and took: the order himself. Tho man possessed a keen, Intelligent face. You might have niarlmd him for a successful lawyer, for there was an earnestness about his expression which precluded a life of idleness. His age might have been anywhere between 40 and 50. The shoulders were broad and the hands which lay clasped upon the table were slim but muscular. Indeed, everything M Itmi i liirw " " ^ -1 ? * * .u?nu nun niauen sirengux and vitality. His companion was small, handsome, and animated. Her frequent gestures and mutable eyebrows betrayed her foreign birth. Her age was a matter of importance to no one ,but Herself. They were at coffee when she said: "There's a young man coming toward us. He is looking at you." The man turned. Instantly his face lighted up with a friendly smile of recognition. "Who is it?" she asked. "A chap worth knowing; a reporter just a litle out of the ordinary. I'm going to introduce him. You never can tell. Wo might- need him somo day. Ah, Norton, how are you?" "Good evening, Mr. Iiraine." The reporter, catching sight of a pair of dazzling eyes, hesitated. "The Princess Perigoff, Norton You're in no hurry, are you?" "Not now," smiled the reporter. "Ah!" said the princess, interested. Tt was tlio old compliment, said In an unusual way. It pleased her. The reporter sank Into a chair. When inactive he was rather a dreamy-eyed sort of chap. Ho possessed that rare accomplishment of talking upon one ^subject and think-1 ing upon another at the same time. F5o while ho talked gayly with thO| young woman on varied themes, his thoughts were busy speculating upon her companion. lie was quite certain that the name llraine was as urned, but he was also equally certain that the man carried an extraordinary brain under his thatch of rait and popper hair. The man had written threo or four brilliant monoI I ' T LD, CONWAY, S. C.. j graphs on poisons and the uses ot radium, and it was through and by these that the reporter had managed to pick up his acquaintance. He lived well, but inconspicuously. Suddenly the pupils of Braine'a eyes narrowed; the eye became cold. Over the smoke of his cigarette he was looking into the wall mirror. A man had passed behind him and sat down at the next table. Still gazing Uilo the mirror, Braine saw Norton wave his hand; saw also the open wonder 011 the reporter's pleasant face. "Who is your friend, Norton?" Braine asked indifferentlv m? V.^ 9 I ? U HV'liU still unturned. "Stanley Hargreave. Met him in Hongkong when I was sent over to handle a part of the revolution. War correspondence stuff. First time I ever ran across him on Broadway at night. We've since had some powwows over some >rare hooks. Queer old cock: brave a^f a lion, but as quiet as a mouse." "Bookish, eh? My kind. Bring him over." Underneath the table Braine maneuvered to touch the foot of the princess. "I don't know," said the reporter dubiously. "He might say 110, and that would embarrass the whole lot of us. He's a bit of a hermit. I'm surprised to see him here." "Try," urged the princess. "I like to meet men who are hermits." "I haven't the least doubt about that," the reporter laughed. "I'll try; but don't blame me if I'm rebuffed." He left the table with evident reluctance and approached Hargreave. The two shook hands cordially, for the elder man was rather fond of this medley of information known as Jim Norton. "Sit down, boy; sit down. You're just the kind of a man I've been wanting to talk to tonight." "Wouldn't you rather talk to a pretty woman?" "I'm an old man." | "Bah! That's a hypocritical bluff, and you know it. My friends at the next table have asked me to bring you over." i "I do not usually care to meet strangers." "Make an exception this once," said the reporter, who had seen Braine's eyes change and was curious to know , why the appearance of Hargreave in the mirror -trad*- brought about that metally gleam. Here were two unique men; he desired to see them face to face. "This once. My fault; I ought not to be here; I feel out of place. What a life, thoilirh. vnil rpnnrtprs Innrl' Tr. meet kings and presidents and great financiers, socialists and anarchists, the whole scale of life, and to slap these people 011 the back as if they were everyday friends!" "Now you're making fun of me. For one king there are always twenty hick brogans ready to kick me down the steps; don't forget that." Hargreave laughed. "Come, then; let us get it over with." The introductions were made. Norton felt rather chagrined. So far as he could see, the two men were total strangers. Well, it was all in the game. Nine out of ten opportunities for the big story were fake alarms; but he was always willing to risk the labor these nine entailed for the sake of the tenth. I At length Braine glanced at his watch, and the princess nodded. Adioux were said. Inside the taxicab Braine leaned back with a deep, audible sigh. | "What it is?" she asked. "The luck of the devil's own," ho , raid. "Child of the Steppes, for years I've flown about seas and continents, through valleys and over mountains? for what? For the sight of the face of that man we have just left. At first glance I wasn't, sure; but the sound of his voice was enough. Olga, the next time you see that reporter, throw your arms around his neck and kiss him. What did I tell you? Without Norton's help I would not have been sure. I'm going to leave you at your apartment." "The man of the Black Hundred?" she whispered. "The man who deserted and defied the Black Hundred, who broke his vows, and never paid a kopeck for the privilege; the man who had been appointed for the supreme work and who ran away. In those days we needed men of his stamp, and to accomplish this end. . . "There was a woman," she .interrupted, with a touch of bitterness. "Always the woman. And she was as clever and handsome as you are." "Thanks. Sometimes . . "Ah, yes!" ironically. "Sometimes you wish you could settle down, marry and have a family! Your domesticity would last about a month." ) She made no retort because Jshe recognized the truth of this statyAnent. "There's an emerald I know of," he said ruminatlvely. "It'H quite possible that you may be wearing it within a few days." ) "I am mad over them. There is something in the green stone that fas< inates me. I can't resist it." nmi. ^ i?- l - ?- - ? - ? - - i mil's Dccause, somewncre in tne far past, your ancestors wore orientals. Here we are. I'll see you tomorrow. I must hurry. Good-night." She stood on the curb for a moment end watched the taxicab as.it whirled around a corner. The man held her villi a fascination more terrible than any jewel. She knew him to be a \ rent and daring rogue, cunning, patient, fearless. Packed away in that mind of his there were a thousand ae* complished deeds wuicn .uuu lud-! futllely the police of two continents. Bralne! She could have lohghed. The very name he had chose i was an insolence directed at society. The subject of her thoughts soon arrived at his destination. A flight of stairs carried him into a dimly lighted hall, smelling evilly of escaping gas. He donned a black mask and struck the door with a series df light blows; two, then one, then three, and again one. The door opened and he slipped 1 inside. Round a table sat several men, I also masked. They were all tried and trusted rogues; but not one of tliein knew what Bralne looked like. He alone remained unknown save to the man designated as the chief, who was only Braine's lieutenant. The mask WflS MlO lltolunl" ,">1 11 uigiiiu me niucR riundred, an organization with all the ramifications of the Camorra without their abiding stupidity. From the aesEBsination of a king, down to thfe robbery of a country post ofllco, nothing was too great or too small for their nets. Their god dwells in the hearts of all men and is called greed. The ordinary business over, the chief dismissed the men, and he and Braine alone remained. "Vroon, I have found him," said Braine. "There are but few: which one?" "Eighteen years ago, in St. Petersburg." "I remember. The millionaire's eon. Did he recognize you?" "I don't know. Probably he did. But he always had good nerves. He is being followed at this moment. We 1 shall strike quick; for if he recognized me he will act quick. He is cool and brave. You remember how he braved ' us that night in Russia. Jumped boldly through the window at the risk of breaking his neck. He landed safely; that is the only reason he eluded us Millions?and tlicy slipped through our fingers. If I could only find some route to his heart! The lure we held outJ to him is dead." "Or in the fortress, which is the same thing. What are your plans?" "I have in mind something like this." And Hargreave was working out his plans, too; and he was just as much of a general as Braine. He sat at his library table, the maxillary muscles in his jaws working. So they had found him? Well, he had broken the law of his own making and he must suffer the consequences. Braine, who was Menshikoff in Russia, Schwartz Germany, Mendoza in Spain, Cartucci | in Italy, and Du Bois in France; so , the rogue had found him out? Poor fool that he Had been! High spirited, full of those youthful dreams of doing good in the world, he had joined what he had believed a great secret socialistic movement, to learn that he had been trapped by a band of brilliant thieves. Kidnapers and assassi-; nators for hire; the Black Hundred; fiends from Topliet! For nearly eighteen years he had eluded them, for he knew that directly or indirectly they would never tr* nun* t. V/ llUUt IWI him; and an idle whim had toppled him into their clutches. He wrote several letters feverishly. The last was addressed to Miss Susan Farlow and read: "Dear Madam: Send Florence Gray to New York, to arrive here Friday morning. My half of the bracelet will be identification. Inclosed find cash to square accounts." lie would get together all his available funds, recover his child, and XIy to the ends of the world. He would tiro them out. They would ilnd that the peaceful dog was a bad animal to rouse. He rang for the faithful Jones. "Jones, they have found me," he said simply. "You will need me, then?" "Quite possible. Please mail these and then we'll talk it over. No doubt some one is watching outside. He careful." "Very good, sir." | Hargreave bowed his head in his! * tm? -X 1kH? ; 'v' 9yw*iran^u{H|^HtXy ^HKSESHhwi^ ^^^^^hsSavmSRS^^hBI mI^^^HmIHk^H^I ^m^^TbbSH^ {QgBD^HHHnn|^B. vy*" /!yTj2^7^ ^WM^H^^^^| 1 I?S|S1I( Joined What He Believed to Be a Great Socialistic Movement. hands. Many times he had journeyed to the school and hung about the gates, straining his eyes toward the merry groups of young girls. Which among them was his, heart of his heart, blood of his blood? That she might never bo drawn into this abominable tangle, ho had resolutely torn her out of his life completely. The happiness of watching, the child i r grow into girlhood he had denied him- 1 Belf. She at least would be safe. Only when she was safe in a far country ^^B would he dare tell her. He tried in ^^B vain to conjure up a picture of her; ^^B he always saw the mother whom hofl^B had loved and hated with all the ardorfl^B of his youth. Many things happened the next day. BB There' was a visit to the hangar of one William Orts, the aviator, fumous^^B for his daredevil exploits. There weroJ^^B two visitors, in fact, and the secon#it^B visitor was knocked down for hi^d^B pains. He had tried to bribe Orts. vj^Bj There were several excited bankers, j^B who protested against such large with- IBS drawslr> *vithout the usual formal aunouncement. Hut a check was a ^Bij check, and they had to pay. B| Hargreave covered a good deal of Uj ground, but during all this time his right hand never left the automatic in ^B his overcoat pocket, except at those ^B moments when he was obliged to sign his checks. He would shoot and make j|H Inquiries afterward. ? UB Far away a young girl and her\JB companion got on the train which was jf&|9j to carry her to New York, the greaj/f all dream city she was always longing ,to jjjjj And the spider wove his web. ~B J Hargreave reached home at night. jBl He put the money in the safe and was jTjj telephoning when Jones entered and/flB handed his master an unstamped note.iy&m "Where did you get this?" I J "At the door, sir. I judge that the M m house is surrounded." j S 1 Hargreave read the note. It stated 9 J briefly that all his movements during 911 the day had been noted. It was know^ J 1 that he had collected a million in pa-f^^ per money. If ho surrendered this h?ri^9| would 1)0 allowed twenty four hours before the real chase began. Otheiy JSjK wise he should die before midnight mim Hargreave crushed the note in h# All Ib I HlH j JR." k. It I Visited the Hangar of an Aviator. |Ty9 was a chanco of their accomplishing^?!? that; but never should they touch hisjHM HI lak. of tin- \Vo|^ Hargreave saw a dozen shadows in HI The master went to the sale, emptied it of its contents, crossed the hall to HH the bedroom, and closed the door softly Bfl behind him, Jones having ehtered thelB'H same room through another door to bc-IJ|^| fool any possible watcher, After nHufl long while, perhaps an hois', the twojd iueu euiergeu irom me room from same doors thoy had entered. So whis-ffli^B pered the watcher to his friends be-HTH "Hargreave is going upstairs." BIB "Let him go. Let him take a lookH^B at us from the upper windows. llslK^B will understand that nothing but wingsIK^B will save him." Iw^fl Silence. I3y and by a watcher re-E/^B ported that he heard the scuttle of thUK^B "Look!" another cried, startled. Kl A bluish glare came from the roof. |F^B "He's shooting off a Roman candle!"ML1^B They never saw the man-made birdXBB till it alighted upon the roof. TheyjpBE never thought of shooting at it till itlg^fl had taken wing! Then they rushed S'^B the doors of the house. They madejP^^ short work of Jones, whom they tied up like a Christmas fowl and plumped roughly into a chair. They broke open the safe, to find it. empty? And while uBB the rogues were rummaging about thefi^^ room, venting their spite upon many a>4^| treasure they could neither appreciatev^l nor understand, a man from the out-A^H side burst in/>V "The old man in dead and the money is at the bottom of the ocean! punctured her. She's gone!" t|H A thin, inscrutable smile stirred theiflH lips of the man bound in the chair. TO HE CONTINUED NEXT WEElfc Ifl To Drive Out Malaria And liuild Up The Systeir Take the Old Standard GROVE'S TASTELESS chill TONIC. You knovi*j^H what you are taking, as the formula printed on every label, showing it is? Quinine and Iron in a tasteless fortn.7|^M The Quinine drives out malaria, the I I , Iron builds up the system. 50 ceutji?