Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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CHAPTER VI. An a nor me.nt foh the defense. miui DAE ri?ii 11. I'Ap O A jdJaL^ & A Ilia. 4 ^6 t? * * I f Cy HOWARD FISLDING c' It t: v ** h Copyright, 1901, by Charles W. Hooke. ^ V v<^VvHA»'>wveA>C''<K,vO>'0<>0'Ky-iK>>{ CHAPTER V. TTIE PATIENT AT ST. WINIFRED’S. jc^N flip wny to St. Win- Ifrod’s with P.romia Mr. Piarnos nml Mr. Hagjrort.v oxortod thcmsc'Ivos to ho en tertaining. Ry way of opening a conver sation and showing fliat personal interest which a lady al ways appreciates Mr. Barnes mention ed the singular circumstance that he tappened to know a man who had seen Hiss Machine that afternoon. He won dered whether Miss Machine could guess where It was that this man had •pen her. Upon lirenda’s acknowledg ing that she was unahle to solve this fiddle Mr. lianas kindly gave her a dew. “If you could remember where you were at precisely ten minutes t.» o,” he said, "why, that would settle it.” Brenda smiled at tin* great astute ness of Mr. Barnes, but she declined to t-v led into a review of her movements tlia; afternoon. Mr. Haggerty then druok into tie* conversation with the remark that it was curious how people could forget whore they had been, and ho in-; a need the case of a young lady vim had lost an ( xcollent alibi in a ’Criminal affair through the error of not teking the j • lice into her confidence at n.i early stage of the proceedings, while the facts wore fresh in her mind. Brenda suggested that perhaps the lady did not fully trust the police, whereupon Mr. Barnes asserted warm ly that that was the* greatest mistake possible to a human being. “Always trust the police,” lie said. “Guilty or innocent, it’s tiie only thing to do.” At the hospital it became immedi ately evident that Barnes and Hagger ty had encountered a mysterious and formidable obstacle. They were about to accompany Brenda into the recep tion room, and she had begun to fear that they might never leave her while like remained in the building, but for »orne inscrutable reason they vanished, and Brenda’s last glimpse showed them obviously crestfallen. She had been somewhat lightened In spirits by the absurd comedy played fcy these dull wltted men. It. had end ed. however, and the real signitieance ■af the drama again asserted Itself. The reception room of St. Winifred’s ts lofty and hare, and there was a chill air in it even on that sultry June even- lag. Brenda observed that the place .inspired her two companions with a Tague terror. The maid was seized with a visible trembling, and the stal wart James shifted his heavily shod feet upon the floor, arousing singular ly loud echoes that seemed to affect him unpleasantly. The attendant who had shown them In returned after some minutes’ ab sence with two men. one of whom Brenda had seen in the hall as they en tered. He was the typical hospital phy- f N bf vr • ■* / MaclaneP' she cried in a weak voice. m sieian of the popular conception. Bren da noted only that he wore spectacles •ml that his upper lip was very thin aiid rigid. In his companion Brenda was rejoiced to recognize a young doc tor of her acquaintance, Sumner Ken- 4aif. She advanced hastily, with ex tended hand. “Dr. Kendall,” she exclaimed, “I had ao idea you were connected with St Winifred’s. 1 have come to see Miss Miller. Is she conscious? What has xbe said?” Tha physician seemed to be laboring azidcr considerable embarrassment. Ho took Brenda’s band with a quick, nerv ous movement, and lie clasped it hard er than the forms of polite society per- Blt. But he did not meet the youug hdy’s eye. “Our patient is conscious,” lie saW. •She lias an excellent chance of recov- »ry. Indeed under ordinary clrcum- ttauces there would be small cause for Alarm. To our great surprise, we And that she does not know who Inflicted the wound. It may be only a lapse of memory due to shock, but I myself fear that she will never be able to answer the question.” “She does not know?” echoed Brenda. “You must understand,” said Ken dall, “that the assailant stood behind her. He. whoever It may have been, Is •opposed to have entered the room while Miss Miller was out on the*bal cony. I have had the place accurately described to me. lu the corner of the room near the eastern window there is quite a large closet Perhaps you no ticed it.” Brenda inclined her head. “The assassin may have hidden him self there.” Kendall continued. “Miss Miller remembers stepping into the room through that eastern window, and she knows nothing of what hap pened between that moment and the time of her awakening here.” “She will live.” said Brenda. “She will remember some day.” “She can never remember what she did not observe,” replied Kendall. “It may bo that she neither saw nor heard the assassin. As to the wound. I bald ly know what to say. The knife enter ed Ix'tweou the lirst and secon' ribs and passed downward very close to the body wall. Ordinarily it would be al most impossible to Inflict such a wound. The assassin must hove been singularly ignorant of anatomy to strike downward at such a spot, for the chances were a thousand to one that the bony structure would protect the vital parts. The knife should have cleared the first rib and hit fairly against the second. But it happens that Miss Miller received an injury en tins precise sp ;t years ago. as a result of which the lirst rib is somewhat de pressed. Thus the murderer was favor ed by an extraordinary chance. His idea wa g first, to escape being seen by her, and. second, to strike at the front of the body while standing behind In order to avoid the blood that must fol low the blow. Having struck, be un doubtedly supposed that he had reach ed the heart, and only a miracle pre vented. Our ambulance surgeon believ ed that the wall of tin* heart was punc tured and that a clot of blood was stop ping the wound, as happens once in a million times. That is not the ease. Not only did the knife miss the heart, but it missed the arteries iu a way that on ly divine Providence can account for. So the lirst effusion of blood was not followed by the fatal drain that might have been expected. Do 1 make myself clear?” “I understand enough.” said Brenda. “I know that she may recover, and I thank God with all my soul.” There was a pause, during which Kendall's embarrassment, that bad been less noticeable while his mind was bent upon a description of Elsie’s in jury, once more asserted itself. Brenda observed that his face was flushed and his forehead moist, and she was puz zled. “Have you told her that I am here?” she asked. “Does she wish to see me?” “We have not mentioned it,” he re plied, “but you need have no hesita tion. We have given her a very nice room,” he hurried on. “You’ll tind that everything in the world is being done for her. Shall we go In?” The other physician then came for ward. and Brenda gave him her hand, though Kendall, in the extremity of his embarrassment, forgot to utter the form of presentation. A straight' and long corridor, the longest, ns it seemed to Brenda, that mortal architect had ever designed, led rearward to the part of the building in which Miss Miller had been sequester ed. Kendall led the way, and his col league walked behind. For the third time that day Brenda experienced the sensation of surrendering her volition. The hospital became a prison; she was being marched to some deep cell be yond the reach of rescue or the light of day. Then, In a moment, she saw Dr. Kendall open a door and step back that she might pass before him. Brenda's lirst glance happened to fall directly upon the face of the patient, and she cannot truly be said to have seen anything else In the room. The bed was only an Indistinct splash of white. The hare walls, the plainly curtained window, the nurse In profile, motionless as a figure on tapestry, en tered Into the feeling, but not Into the view of the scene. She beheld only that sweet and sad little face, so pret ty. so maidenly and tender. And the real essence of this despicable crime, the Inconceivable Inhumanity of It, seemed to speak straight to Brenda’s heart in that languag^pf nature which Is without words. Elsie’s brown eyes opened wide. They had been half closed, and she had been looking at heaven kn* vs what; nothing in that room sm ’y, nothing that ever had been anywlure perhaps. They turned to Brenda with utter surprise. “Miss Maclane!” she cried In a weak voice, but distinct as the tone of a little silver bell. “Y’ou have come to see me! How kind of you!” Then sudden ly, “Why did you do It?” Brenda sank upon her knees beside the lied and took Elsie’s band. “It was an Impulse—« mere linpulss,” she said; “but I am very glad I came. I am so sorry for you. I am a good nurse. I have been taught. Will you let me stay bore with you until you are well?” Two tears gathered In Elsie’s eyes and glided slowly down her cheeks. Her lip quivered like a child’s. “I shan’t get well,” she said. “I don’t want to.” And then the tears came very fast. one Is In the vt.l- ley of the shadow, age and .experience may furnish many reasons for desiring to go farther In pref erence to returning. As a rule, however, these reasons are swallowed up in the Instinct of living and in the interest one takes In one’s own struggle with the dark angel. A physician will bear many people say that they do not wish to recover, but most of them will wait until after the danger is over be fore giving utterance to words which the supernal powers may take too seri ously. Dr. Kendall was not in the least pre pared to hear such au expression from this particular patieut. He would have said that she was oue who enjoyed life, every minute of it. Certainly she was as full of natural vitality as a young fawn In the woods. Plainly Brenda was at least as much surprised as Kendall, and the physician awaited her response with critical Interest. If she should ask an explanation or offer an argument. It would show’ that she had not the instinct of the nurse. It was in the nature of an examination, and Brenda passed it with great credit. “If you will tell me 1 may stay,” she said. “I will do something that will make you feel much better.” “You know that I want you to stay,” said Elsie. “It was very, verj good of you to come, and I thank you tru ly.” "Such being the ease,” replied Bren da. "1 am going to fix your hair. One moment, while I make myself ready. And now,” she added, “don’t move; not a muscle. See, 1 can reach it with out the slightest trouble.” And with cool and steady hands she arranged the brown masses in which there lurked a strange glow like red geld in the sub. It was cleverly done. Elsie felt the caressing hands, hut they were so deft that not a tremor reached the wound. Dr. Kendall, observing closely, nodded his head as one who considers a question satisfactorily set tled. “Such beautiful hair!” said Brenda. “Y’ou must be very vain of it.” But Elsie averred that she did not care for dark hair; it was so common. She would much rather have Brenda’s. “The entente cordiale is now fully es tablished,” said Kendall. ’^Jiss Mac- lane, the patient is in your hands. I shall expect her to be playing golf In about a week. It won't be necessary for you to assist me any further, Dr. Johnson,” be continued, addressing bis colleague. “I will join you iu my room.” Dr. Johnson bowed and withdrew. Dr. Kendall took a seat by the bed, and without appearing to do anything particularly important be determined with great thoroughness the condition of his patient. Not all that he observed would be comprehensible by a layman. The most conspicuous feature In the case was the improvement of Elsie’s spirits. She spoke cheerfully to Bren da and seemed to have acquired In so short a time a certain dependence up on her. Then, almost as she was speak ing. her eyes closed, her hands upon the white coverlet relaxed, and she fell asleep. Kendall and Brenda watched her in silence for a moment w’hlle the profes sional nurse, who had remained in at- tendance, adjusted the shades upon the electric lights. “While she sleeps,” whispered Bren da, “I would like to telephone to my father. Dr. Johnson told me that Mr. Alden is probably still held at the sta tion. lie must be or be would be here. My father must try to secure his re lease. By the way, of course Miss Mil ler asked for him?” “For Mr. Alden? Yes,” replied Ken dall. - “What did you tell her?” “We said that he had sent all sorts of kind messages and that he received .* recei t tlAt Is. though that would not have been the ordinary.- course. While I was making my first examination of the wound she began to revive, and 1 be- lleve that she regained the full eoin- tmmd of her faculties within a few minutes. It is not always possible to ; say Just when a patient's mind be- | comes effectually clear, but I am per- , fectly sure that Miss Miller’s was wioe ; awake some little time before she | chose to let that fact appear. I “You must remember that we over- ; estimated the gravity of the wound and indeed were expecting the worst at any moment. Considering the na ture of the case, it was important to question her immediately. I asked her who had Inflicted the injury, and I know that she heard and understood me ns well as you do now. but she made no sign. After her first view of the place, which she must have recog nized as a room In a hospital, she closed her eyes, and I think it must have been a matter of five minutes before she opened them.” “Thinking,” said Brenda, “thinking, thinking. Poor child!” “Though she Is obviously abnormally sensitive to pain.” Kendall continued, “she liore what bad to be done with the fortitude of a Christian martyr. I made up my mind after awhile that a miracle bad protected her and that she bad a chance to survive; therefore 1 ceased to ask questions, deciding to let her take her own time. When she spoke, it was not in reply to me, and she seemed to address no one. T am going to die,’ she said, and then she he lp 1 y >V !■ I • ff, ~ — N.i ; r • — fi t •v. ''' b< “-r g* constant reports from us, but that she must not ask to see him before tomor row’.” “Did she plead to see bim at once?” asked Brenda. Keudall hesitated for a moment while they were passing silently out of the room. “Miss Miller Is a very obedient pa tient,” he said. “No one could give less trouble.” “Well?” rejoined Brenda. “Please proceed.” "I don’t quite understand.” “You have something more to say.” “It occurred to me,” said Kendall slowly, “that she exhibited less anxie ty to see Mr. Alden than 1 should have expected.” This statement seemed to furnish Brenda with abundant food for thought. She said nothing as they traversed the long corridor, and Ken dall also was silent. After Brenda had sent the message to her father she conferred with Kendall In regard to her remaining In the hospital as Elsie’s nurse and then dispatched her maid under James’ escort for such things as she would need. The departure of the servants left Brenda and Kendall alone In the re ception room. “I wish you would tell me more about Miss Miller,” said she. “I can not understand why she should not have wished to see Mr. Alden.” “I did not say that,” responded Ken dall. “It was her manner that struck lue as peculiar.” "She seems as unaffected and impul sive as a child,” said Brenda. "I can imagine her asking for Mr. Alden as naturally as if he had been a driuk of water." “That Is precisely what she did not do." said tbe doctor. "Let me tell yon just wbnt happened. When she was brought to the hospital, she was un conscious. For certain reasons we took her to the room where she now Kendall and Brenda watched her in si lence for a moment. gan to cry very softly, as you saw her a few minutes ago. 1 replied that 1 did not think so, but she shook her head, murmuring something about the grief of her mother, who could not come In time to see her. 1 asked for her moth er’s address and was Informed by a poliee sergeant who had Just been ad mitted to the room, coming under or ders from Captain Neale, that Mrs. Simmons, the landlady, had telegraph ed to Mrs. Miller. "The sergeant then came lumbering up to the side of the bed armed with a notebook and a pencil. Without wait ing for him to put a single question Miss Miller told her story of the crime as 1 told it to you. She had stepped out upon the veranda and had almost immediately re-entered the room by the eastern window. She neither saw nor heard any one. Beyond a confused memory of a sharp and terrible pang, sudden, unexpected and probably mean ingless, because the mind is darkened before it can comprehend, she can re call nothing. There was very little for the sergeant to put down in his note book.” “Did he believe her?" asked Brenda. “Yes; I think the sergeant did,” re plied- Kendall, with a slight emphasis on the noun. “At least the only indica tion of doubt be gave me was to ask me in the corridor afterward whether the wound could have been self inflict ed. 1 told him to dismiss the idea, and he seemed-to have no difficulty lu do ing so. It Is not, at the first glance, a physical Impossibility, but practically it is precisely that.” “Suppose she should say that she did it,” said Brenda. “With apologies to Miss Miller,” re sponded Kendall. “1 must tell you that that would not affect my opinion in the least. If she has any desire to shield the guilty, she eauuot do It iu that way.” Brenda’s keen gray eyes searched the physician’s face. “Do you believe that?” she demanded. “Frankly,” said Kendall, “my opin ion is that Miss Miller knows perfectly well who ditl this deed.” “And her motive for concealment?” “I leave that to her own heart,” was the reply. “Yet it would seem that there could be but one.’' “A motive of tbe heart,” said Brenda. “Do you realize that this amounts to an accusation?” “Then let us not speak of It any more,” said Keudall. “Let us get back to Mr. Alden.” “We have already done so," she said; but the doctor w’ould not be drawn into such an admission. “After the police officer had gone,” he resumed. “Miss Miller asked me whether a note addressed to her had been found In her room. I answered yes, and then she Inquired whether Mr. Alden had been Informed of her misfortune. Fearing to excite her, I substituted for tbe truth tbe fiction that I just outlined to you, and my poor little patient merely sighed. She did not ask when she could see Mr. Alden nor mention his name again in any connection.” "From which you Infer”— "Nothing w hatever," Insisted Ken dall. "You do not trust me," said Brenda, not without bitterness. “Y’ou believe Mr. Alden guilty of this frightful crime, and you dare not say so In my pres ence for ft nr that f may not be dis creet and you may be put Into an un- , pleasant position." "1 could scarcely be put Into a posi tion more unpleasant than this oue,” ; said Kendall earnestly. “I want to tell you the exact truth about—about everything that I know or Imagine, , and it is deadly hard to do It when you look at me as If I were an enemy. This Is as near as 1 can come to an accurate expression: Miss Miller’s man ner convinces me that she is shielding the assassin, and there Is no known ! reason why she should shield any one else than Mr. Alden.” “But why not take tbe perfectly easy alternative that she is telling the truth?” “I will,” said Kendall, “if you wish me to.” “I am very serious,” said Brenda. “This Is a promise you are making?” “It is," replied Kendall, his face flushed and his voice not quite steady. "It is my word of honor given to you, and so twice sacred as the word ot a friend,” he added. “You were good enough to say that we were friends two years ago.” “I have better cause to say It now," she replied. “Let me hasten to prove my sincerity In the usual way, by bur dening you with a confidence. You must be wondering at me.” “Why?” “Because I am here.” | "It is a fine tiling.” said Kendall earnestly. “Fo much I know.” “I will tell you more,” rejoined Brenda, “and it will make you think 1 bettor of Mr. Alden. This tragedy of j today is a revelation to me, but not of i the kind that you suppose. Mr. Alden had not concealed from me that his heart had been won away. 1 ”.t I did , uot understand. He told me of Miss Miller’s existence two months ago. hut I would not hear nil he wished to say. lie intimated that lie had begun to re gard her with i(-'lings that made his engagement to me dishonorable, i viewed him with pity.” and Brenda laughed very soitly ! w’L’ m’t m•••.?». “I was so incredibly ignorant of every thing outside my own sphere that I could not imagine the existence of such a woman as lies now in that room cut there. “Clarence said she was an actress. , and he looked at me as a man upon the defensive. 1 can see him now. 1 pictured a siren, a creature grotesquely unworthy, appealing to his wild and reckless nature with thin artifices that would be clear as glass to him when he should view them with a dis passionate eye. Truly, I was only sorry for him, ashamed of him a little, : yet very anxious to help him It seem- | ed to me that breaking our engage ment would be the very worst thing that could happen to him, and so I re fused to consider the woman at all. One meets men in society. Dr. Keu dall, whose well known ways of life have an unfortunate tendency to per vert women’s Ideas in such matters. We admit the existence of certain per sons whom we see iu the park with elegant equipages, but we cannot con sider them ns rivals." “But surelj’ be spoke of her with respect,” said Kendall. “Absolute,” replied Brenda, “but I thought him the more a fool. He said one evening, I remember—-and it was only a very short time ago—that Miss Miller cared nothing for him and never would. I was merely convinced by bis sincerity that the woman was playing a deep game, and I swore by such gods as 1 have that I would save him from her. And so it went on until last even ing, when he sent me a note which made it Impossible that our engage ment should continue. It was only a frank, honest statement that his heart had passed utterly out of his control. I can see now that he could have done no Letter, but 1 did not take the right view at the moment. Perhaps It was because 1 had heard that day for the first time th:it Mr. Aldeu’s engagement with me was of the highest Importance in his business affairs. If he bad al lowed it to continue for that reason— But lie had not. It was really all my doing. “However, to continue. I went to his office today because 1 was impatient, ami I told him that the engagement was at an end. That was in ten words. And the loss of me, Dr. Kendall, affect ed him so little. He was obviously so wrapped In au impenetrable happiness that 1 lost my temper for tbe first time in a good many years and cut short the Interview. Oh. we were perfectly cour teous to each other, and when we part ed—most unromantlcally, with an ele vator iuau rattling the caLh of the door to make me hurry — we shook hands upon a vow of friendship. But I was In a shameful rage as I left the building. "I went up town as far a.’ the shop ping district and wandered aimlessly In the stores. Then I got upon c street car, preferring it to the loneliness of a cab. And so It happened that a news boy thrust the story of this crime Into my face. The paper was wet from the press—printed and upon the street with in half an hour after the discovery of tbe crime. A reporter must have been right apon the scene by accident and have rushed to his office Immediately. "Let me confess my own folly. In the very first Instant I feared that Mr. Alden might have struck the blow. It was sheer madness. 1 was over wrought by tbe excitement of the after noon, and, remember, I then pictured Miss Miller as a desperate and schem ing woman, oue whose real nature was likely to be revealed to Mr. Alden In an Instant by an unguarded word. What mad scene might follow, who could say? There might have been some sort of struggle. She might hare turned the knife against herself, mean ing to strike him. Impatience smoth ered me. 1 must know at once, and. besides, I had a deadly longing to see her—to see the woman who had wreck* ed a lif(» that was dear to me ar her own lu doing It. “My first awakening was in room. There v«*i« something of he in it. Afterward 1 came here heard that old man In the office ’the child.’ And then 1 saw her. indescribable surprise, even after preparation as 1 bad bad. Her l am not so vain. Why did 1 not her before? And the Idea that C| ence Alden could have lifted his against a creature so pathetically tiful that she must appeal Irreslstff to a man so strong as he Is ntta monstrous. Y'ou can’t believe It.” “You are quite right,” said Kex “I don’t believe it.” This story will be contln^ next Fridaj’s Issue oLThe Ledger. Probate Judge's Sale FI March 1902. Statk or Sot’TH Carolina, » Office of . Chkkokee County. ( biiteJudi Administrator ot st Sanders, Rufus Sa ud Minnie Turn Edward A. Tresco; G. Handers. d< Sailie Ledford tiers, Lewis Sa Defendants. By virtue of a decree rendered In the hate Court of Cherokee County, State* South Carolina, on 13th day of January I will sell, -it public auction, to the bidder, before the Court House door, «J eey. Cherokee County, South Carnlii the hrst Monday in March next, being the! day of said month, during the legal hout, sale, the following described land of Jeff. ] Sanders, deceased: All that certain lot or parcel of land lyt b-lnj,-. and situate in Cherokee Townshl Cherokee County. South Carolina, on waters of Buffalo creek and Iwunded, uov forir.erly, by lands of Jasper Blackwell, demon Moss. Wrn. Jones, A. \V. Holt aj estate lands of Jeff, G. Sanders, deceas fie. inribic on a Post Oak on said Sanders’ 1 H*'. arni running N. Sli W. 14.70 to a Span!) Uaa: thence N. 14 E. H eOtoa small Dogwc, on Win. Jones’line; thence with his line i 14 nO to a 1‘ine Ro< f , Btaekcv ll’^ come thence with his lino s. j E. gl.JO to a Kn< Blackwell and Moss' corner; thence withi Moss’line S 7> <i W. 2.30 to a Pine, gj thence wit h said Sanders’ old line. N. 87< *-•00 to the beginning. Containing thl live (ij) acres, more or less. Terms of -Sale:—One half cash; balan nay able on the lirst clay of November ne: with interest from day of sale; credit tion to be secured by bond of purchaser mortgage of premises sold; with leave to purchaser to pay all cash if he so desire. Purchaser to pay for papers and recordit J. E. Webster, Gaffney, S. C.. Feb. 1.1902. Probate Judge Published in Gaffney Ledger Feby. 14 21st and 2Sth, 1902. Clerk's Sale. State of South Carolina County of Cherokee. Tru* |r foreclose will sell udder, befor A. Whisonant and J. D. Jol vs. Geo. W. Moore et | In ohedlt nee to a judgment i herein, dated Feby. 3rd, 1902, Gaffney, S. C., to the hlghes the court house door during^ the legal bom of sale, salesday March 3rd, 1902, the folic Ing described lands, to wit: All that certain piece or tract of land, wit buildings thereon, situated lu Blacksbui County of Cherokee, state aforesaid, frontln 175 feet «>n Cherokee street and running bao 100 feet to lands of A. & C. Air Line R. (now Southernl, bounded North by said K^li road company’s laud, on East by iBruco South by CaroPua street and Westiby li of Riley Whisonant. Said lot belnalOOby U feet and contains 17.500 square feetj Terms of Sale, Cash. Purchase/t<i pay fc all papers. Feby. 7th, 1902. V , J. Eb Jefferieo.' Pub. Feb. 14 21,28. CPk. C. C. Pl’l Notice to Assessors. Township and Special Boards of Ass will take notice that by Acts of 1901 you mini red to he and appear at the Audit office annually on the first Tuesday March for the purpose of performing the dt ies devolving upon them. It Is their duty to carefully consider tU returns and lists laid before them by County Auditor, and, If necessary, compa the returns and tax duplicates for previot yea’s, and to diligently search for and discover all property, both real and persona In their respective tax districts not retpro by tbe owner or agent thereof, or not list for taxation by the County Auditor. I suggest that tbe boards^ perform the duty at the court bouse as there are a gr many who have listed their real property greatly reduced prices from last year’s | plicate, and 1 cannot see how you cn your whole duty unless you have the yeaf duplicates to refer to. This return must passed upon and returned to the Auditor or before tbe third Monday In March. Her lu fail not it your peril. W. D. Camp. 2-14-lawk-3t Auditor. Stuttering Cured at Chester, S. Doctor G. W. Randolph, who has that) voice school at St. l/ouls. Is traveling in South a few months, stopping at large curing hundreds of unfortunate statni He has been prevailed upon to stop weeks at Chester, S. C„ before going?' mond. He Is now ut the Wllllamc Main street. We hope that every stamt In all the land will go to him and’get et Leading papers all over the South are lot his praise. He cured a great many in lanta and Columbia two years ago. He • erally cures them In a few days. Chs reasonable. Please hand this to a stamme er. Remember the Golden Rule. . Executors Sale. By virtue of authority given us by i sued from the Probate Court for County, S C., this date, we will sell at pnt outcry, before the court house door, raUi ney, S. C..o» Saturday, the 22nd day <M I ruary, 1902, all the old Notes, Liens, gages and Hook Account* belonging to estate of Benjamin Purser, dee’d, such have been appraised doubtless or worth! and such as have not been collected upt date of said sale. Sale to < ccur at II o’/ a. m. Terras Cash. Feb. 4,1900. O. E. Tate and E. L. Tate, Ex’i’ra Pub Feb. 7.14- of B. Purser, i