The Barnwell people-sentinel. (Barnwell, S.C.) 1925-current, February 07, 1929, Image 3
*«■' i
THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 7, 1929.
TD BARNWELL PBOPLB-WNTOnS* BABNWEU* SOUTH CABOLDIE
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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.**
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■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
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For Example:
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Timmonsville, 8. C.
Mr. Young is considered one of the beat
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ADVERTISE IN
The People- Sentinel.
Chilean Nitrate is the best partner a farmer can
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Ask your county agent about Chilean Nitrata.
He is familiar with many demonstrations con
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Order your supply now. If you don't know
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Valuable Booh—Free
Our new 44-page book, “How to Use Chilean
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