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*«■' i THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 7, 1929. TD BARNWELL PBOPLB-WNTOnS* BABNWEU* SOUTH CABOLDIE A / niUSntAKDBf nSWKBMUBf / Third Installment WHAT HAPPENED BEFORE Palermo is the scene. There an exile, Leonardo di Marioni, has come for' love of Adrienne Cartuccio, who spurns him. He meets an Englishman, Lord St. M:fti rice, who falls in Ibve with Adrienne on sight. Leonardo secs his sister Marghaiita, who tells him his love for Adrienne is hope less. But he pleads with her to arrange an accidental meeting, to say farewell, be tween Adrienne and him. She consents. That night the Englishman is informed of an attempt being made to carry off Signorina Cartuccio and Mar- gharita, who arc; walking, )Jj brigands employed by a rejected suitorj on a lonely road. He rushes to the icene, and proves able to rescue the ladled. NOW CO ON WITH THE STOpV / The two ladies looked at their pre server standing in the middle of the road—fair apid straight and tall, like a Greek god, but with a terrible fury bla/ing/tn his dark blue eyes. “Y0u are not hurt, I trust?” he r.s'l^d, his breath coming quickly, for he was in a towering passion. He /was not speaking to the darker of the two girls at all: in fact, he was uncon scious of her presence. He was stand ing by Adrienne Cartuccio’s side, watching the faint color steal again -into lier cheeks, an$l -the terror dying out of her e\es, to he replaced by a far softer light. Her black lace wrap, which she had been' wearing in Span ish fashion, had fallen a little back from her head, andlthe moonlight was gleaming upon her ruddy golden hair, all wavy and disarranged, throwing into soft relief the outline of her slim, girlish figure, her heaving bosom, and the exquisite transparency of her com plexion. She-v.-stood there like an offended young queen, passionately wrathful with the men who had dared to lay their coarse hands upon her, yet feeling all a woman’s gratitude to their preserver. Her eyes were flash ing like stars, and her brows were bent, hut as she looked into his face her expression softened. Of the two sensations gratitude was the stronger. “You are not hurt?” he repeated. “I am sorry that I did not get here sooner, before that fellow touched you.” • ’ She held out her hand to him with a little impetuous movement. , "Thanks to you. No, Signor,” sh< said, her eyes suddenly filling with tears. “Oh, how grateful we are, are we not, Margharita?” “Indeed, uulecd we are. The Signor had saved us from a terrible danger.” "it is nothing. The fellows were arrant cowards, d' But what was the carnage doing here? you afternoon tea d I’Anglaise. By the bye,” she added, a little shyly, “is there not something which you have forgotten ?” He divined her meaning at once. “Of course, I ought to have told you my name!” he exclaimed hastily. “How stupid of me. It is St. Maurice —Lord St. Maurice.” “Lord St. Maurice! Then are you not the fortunate possessor of that, delightful little yacht in the harbor?” “Yes, if you mean the Pandora, she’s mine! Do you like sailing? Will you come for a sail?” he asked eagerly, “We’ll talk about it to-morrow,” she laughed, holding out her hand. “Good night.” He let her hand go. If he held it a moment longer, and a little more firmlv than was absolutely necessary, was he much to blame? “Good-night,” he * said. “Good- "You must not tell her,” he mut tered. “Swear that you will notl” She shook her head. “There is no need. I am not anxious to denounce my own brother as a would-be abductor.” “Margharita, I was desperate,” he cried passionately. “And that cursed Englishman, he has become my evil genius. It was a miserable chance that enabled him to become your pre server.” “It was a very fortunate one- for you, Leonardo.” “What do you mean?” he cried sharply. “Tell me, has he been here?” “Yes.” He seemed to calm himself wuth a great effort. He was on the thresh old of what he had come to know. He must keep cool, or she would tell him nothing. “Margharita,” he said slowly, “the * “He is—is not dead, is he?** Margharita asked. night. Signorina,” he added, bowing to Margharita. “I shall come to-morrow- aftern<*on.” Then he turned away, and walked with long swinging steps back to the hotel. “Marc.iiartta !** She had found her way into a lonely corner of the villa grounds, and. with her head resting upon her hands, she was gazing across the blue sunlit waters of the bay. Below, hidden by the thickly-growing shrubs, was the S hite, dusty road, and the voice which sturbed her thoughts seemed to He pointed along the road. Already fcome from it. She pushed the white the clumsy vehicle had become a black si>eck in the distance, swaying heavily from side to side from the pace at which it was being driven, and almost enveloped in a cloud of dust. Adrienne shook her head. Margha rita had turned away, with her face buried in her hands. “1 cannot imagine. Perhaps they were brigands, and intended to carry us off for a ransom." The Englishman shrugged hfs shoulders. “Odd sort of bandits,” he remarked. “Why, they hadn’t the pluck of a chicken between them, especially this one.” He touched the prostrate figure with his foot, and the two girls shuddered. “He is—is not dead, is he?” Margharita asked. “Not he. I shouldn’t say that he . was very badly hurt either," the Eng lishman declared, bending down and listening to his breathing. "More frightened than anything. He’ll get up and be off directly we leave. You will let me see you home?” he con tinued, speaking to Adrienne. She looked up at him with a gleam of humor in her wet eyes. “You don’t imagine that we should let you go and leave us here?” she said. “Come. Margharita.” ■>' The Englishman looked at the other girl, almost for the first time, as she came up and joined them. Her dark eyes were full of tears and her face was troubled. There was very little relief or thankfulness for her escape in her expression. The Englishman was no physiognomist, but he was a little puzzled. “There is no danger now, Sig norina,” he said reassuringly. “To-mor row I will go to the police, and I dare say that we shall get to the bottom of the whole affair.” She shuddered, but made no reply, walking on by their side, but a little distance apart. As for the English man, he was in paradise. To al intents and purposes, he was alone with Adrienne Cartuccio, listening to her low voice, and every now and then stealing a glance downward into those wonderful eyes, just then very soft anc sweet. That walk through the scentec darkness, with the far-off murmur o the sea always in their ears, was like the dawning of a new era in his life. It was she who talked most, and he who listened. Yet he was very happy; and when they reached her villa, anc he left them at the door, she gave him a white flower which he had fount courage to l?eg for. “May I call on you to-morrow?” he asked, trembling for the answer “If you would like to, yes,” she answered readily. “Come early if vou have nothing to do, and we will give lowering rhododendrons on one side, and peered through. Leonardo I” she exclaimed. “Leon ardo!” “Are you alone ?” he asked. “Yes. Ardienne is in the house, 1 believe.” “Then I am coming in.” She looked troubled, but she could not send him away. He clambered over the low paling, and.'pushing back the boughs of the shrubs which grew >etween them, made his way up the bank to her side. J “Have you been away?” she asKed. “Yes, I have been home. Home,” he repeated bitterly. “I have wan dered through the woods, and I have climbed the hills where we spent our childhood. 1 have looked upon the old scenes, and my heart is broken.” Her eyes filled with tears. For a moment her thoughts, too, went back to the days when they had been chil dren together, and he had been her hero brother. How time had changed them both, and how far apart they had drifted. They could never be the same again. She knew it quite well. There had grown up a great barrier between them. She could not even pretend to sympathize with him, although her heart was still full of pity. "Leonardo, I am sorry,” she whis pered. “How is it, I wonder, that all through life you seem to have set your heart upon things which are impos sible.” “It is fate!” “Fate! But you are^a man, and man should control fate. “Have I not tried?” he answerer bitterly. “Tell me, do I so easily relinquish my great desire? Why am I here? Because I have said to mysel: that I will not be denied. Adrienne shall Be mine]” She looked at him steadily /‘We have not met, Leonardo, since tne night after the concert. Do you know that we had an adventure on the way home? “Tell me about it,” he answered, looking away.' “Is there any need, Leonardo?” A faint tinge of color stole into his olive cheek. “You guessed then,” he said. “Tel me, does she know ? Has she any idea?” “None.” “She does not suspect me at all?” “No; she thinks that it was an ordi nary attack by robbers, and that the carriage was to take us a little way into lilt interior, so that they might hold us and demand a ransom. It was her own idea; I said nothing. I fee as though I were deceiving her, but cannot tell her. She would never look upon your face again, Leonardo. time is fast coming when I shall have no more favors to ask you. Will you remember that you are my sister, and grant me a great one now?” “If I can, Leonardo.” “It is good. I shall not ask you anything impossible or unreasonable. Tell me the truth about Adrienne and this Englishman/ Tell me how you have spent your days since this affair, and how often he has been here. Then tell me what you yourself think. Tell me whether she cares for him; and ic for her. Let me hear the whole truth, so that I may know how to act.” ‘Leonardo,” she whispered, “remem- >er our watchword, ‘Endurance.’ I will tell you everything. % Lord St. Maurice came on the day after our adventure. He stayed till evening, and we walked with him on the Marina. The next day we went yachting with him. Yesterday and to-day he has spent nearly the whole of his time here. I believe that he is in love with Adrienne, and as for her, if she does not love him already, I iclieve that she soon will. You have asked for the truth, my brother, and it is best that you should have it. A>rglre me for the pain it must cause you.” The Englishman sat quite still, hold ing in his hand a long, curiously- shaped dagger, which the first gleam of moonlight had shown him lying at lis feet. He was no coward, but he gave a little shudder as he examined the thing, and felt its blueish steel edge with his finger. It was by no means a toy weapon; it had been fashioned and meant for use. What use? Some how he felt that he had escaped a very great danger, as he put the thing thoughtfully into his pocket, and leaned back in his chair. The shrill voices and clatter of glasses around him sounded curiously unreal in his ears. By degrees he came to himself, and leaning forward took a natch from the little marble table, and re-lit Ms cigar. Then, for the first time, he noticed with a start that the chair opposite to him was occupied, occupied, too, by a figure which was perfectly familiar. It was a Sicilian who sat there, quietly smoking a long cigarette, and with his face shaded by the open palm of his hand. Lord St. Maurice made no sign cf recognition. On the contrary, he turned his head away, preferring not to be seen. His nerves were already highly strung, and there seemed to him to be something ominous in this second meeting with the Sicilian. If he could have been sure of being able to do so unnoticed, he would have got up and gone into the hotel. “Good-evening, Signori” Lord St. Maurice turned and looked into the white, corpse-like face of the Sicilian. It told its own story. There was trouble to come. “Good-evening, Signor,” he answered quietly. The Sicilian leaned over the table. There were gray rims under his eyes, and even his lips had lost their color. “A week ago. Signor,” he remarked, “we occupied these same seats here.” “I remember it,” Lord St. Maurice replied quietly. Continued Next Week (?ovan Items. Govan, Feb. 3.—Mrs. L. V. Wil liams and Mrs. M. B. Kennedy were shoppers ir. Orangeburg Thursday. Mr. and Mrs. David Brinkman, of Augusta, were visitors here this week. Judson Browning, Julius McClaney and A. S. Kennedy* of Columoia, spent the week-end with the former*! par ents, Mr. and Mrs. J. B. Browning. » Miss Margaret Sea».rook, of Char leston visited relatives here Sunday. Mrs. A. R. Lancaster visited her sister, Mrs. Mamie Hutto, in Bam berg last week. Marion Kennedy spent Wednesday in Denmark. Mrs. D. W. Kittreil spent last week end in Columbia With her daughter, Mrs. P. E. Rickenbaker. Joseph Gunnels, Jr., was a visitor in .Columbia W T ednesday. Meat Market Man: “Hurry up; break the bones in Mrs. Smith's chops snd put Mr. Ray*s ribs in the basket for him.** / c Jimmy: “AH right, sir, just as toon a s I saw off Mrs. Murphy's legs.** The COACH 595 *525 Tht * Roadster .., The I OK 1’haeton.... •oair The $CQC (loupe %J7%J The Sport $ZLQS Cabriolet... OT** TheConvert-$n'm ib/eLandau. ' Sedan Delivery.... 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Barnwell, - - South Carolina ■About your Health Things You Should Know J I bt John Joseph Gaines, KL D# Spitting t At best a vulgar habit, which can be done away with if we would devote a little time and attention to the task. There is no cuspidor near my desk as I write this. I believe in the practice of what I preach. The saliva is a very necessary digestive fluid. It was not provided as a luxury, but as a necessity.. To waste it is to disturb the normaf bal ance in our adjustment. The habit of spitting is a symptom indicating dis ease. We should be more considerate of our fellow-men than to willfully expose them to our throat and nose infections. Sputum may contain many forms of bacteria; in fact, the “spittcr” usually has an infected throat, causing in creased secretion. To expectorate on the sidewalk, or on the ground about the home, is to smear the premises with germs which, after drying, arc ready for a voyage into some innocent respiratory tract. This is the way in which the dreaded “T.B." finds access to many lungs. In the same manner, influenza, diphtheria, pneumonia, scar let fever, and many other ugly proc esses are started. To withhold your expectoration, or, if you cannot, then to deposit it on a cloth, piece of japer —something you can burn—is to be a humanitarian on a small but very noble scale. To sneeze in your neighbor’s face, exhibits idiocy of course. To expec torate where it will dry and be carried to the throat of an unsuspecting vic tim, is equally ignorant, if not posi tively criminal. ^ dislike to arouse resentment on pa.', of my friends, but I know I’m exactly right rfbout this matter. Now for an anti-spitters’ club in the new year 1939. Here is a Partner to help you make more MONEY T HIS is a special advertisement to cotton farm ers who have never uced Chilean Nitrate of Soda to fertilize their crops. You may be making good crops... but Chilean Nitrate will help you make better ones. 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