Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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Continued from First Page. : to here am I, wE I nnmerous other pe r devils, cooped upi Rg^O?shot and dusty city. How I wish I wei ? : with yon in the land of Goshen, by the rd ing waters of the Murray, where evorythin / is bright, and green, and uusophisticated 3" tl? two latter terms aro almost identical-ii _ stead o? which my view is bounded by bric! . Y and mortar, and the muddy waters of tl % Yarra have to do duty for your uoble rive: I suppose you still hold the secret which R< Banna Moore intrusted you with-ah! ye see I know her aanae, and why ?-simply b K. caus?, with the natur;;! curiosity of tho hi saan race, I have been trying to find out wi xaardered Oliver Whyte, and as The Argi ? very cleverly pointed out Rosanna Moore t likely to be at the bottom of the wholeaffai: I bave boen learning her past history. Tfc f|rrsscret of Wbyte's death, and the reason fe it, is known tc you, but you refuse, even i ?'\ the interests of Justice, to reveal it-why, ^V'doatft know; but we all have ?or little fault and from an amiable, though mistakei ?ose of-shall I sar duty?-you refuse to d< liver up the man whose cowardly crime s nearly cost you your life? ; "After your departure from Melbourn every one said, 'Tho hansom cab tragedy : .". at an end, and the murderer will never 1 < discovered.' I ventured to disagree with tl wiseacres who made such a remark, an asked myself, 'Who was this woman who die at-Mother Guttersnipe'sf Receiving no satii factory answer from myself, I determined t find out, and took steps accordingly. In th ^pftnt place, I learned from Roger Moreland who, if you remember, was a witness a gains yt? at the trial, that Whyte and Rosann Moore had come out ro Sidney in the Job Elder about a year ago as Mr. and? Mn Why*1^. I need hardly say that they did nc thank it needful to go through the formalit of marriage, as such a tie might have bee: found inconvenient on some future occasior fr-'- Moreland knew nothing about Rosann Moore> and advised me to give up the search as, coming from a city like London, it woul be difficult to find any one who knew he there. Notwithstanding this. I t?l?graphe *A; home toa friend of mine, who is a bit of a amateur detective: 'Find out the name ac* all abott the woman who left England in th John Elder on the 2lst day of August, IS-.a the wife of Oliver Whyte.' Mirabile dicta he found out all about h^.*, and knowing, a yon do, what a maelstrom of humanity Lon ^.^jSxnx is, you must admit my friend was clever g>i/ . It appears, however, that the task I set hin ?> todo was easier; than he expected, for the si ?fled Mrs. Whyte was rather a notoriou individual m ber own way. She wes a bur lauque actress at the Frivolity theatre in Lon don, and, being a very handsome woman, hat ^ 1 been photographed innumerable times. Con sequently when she very foolishly went wit! Whyte to choose a berth onboard the boat she was recognized by the clerk in the ofSci .. as Rosanna Moore, better known as Musettv of tte Frivolity. Why she ran away witl y^bjt? I cannot tell you. With reference tc ?-ui .'men nsder&andmg women, I refer you t< ]^ Balxacteremark anent the same. Perhaps Mu sette got weary of St. John's Wood and chain pagne suppers, and longed for the purer air ci her native land. Ah! you open your eyes at tbi; ? latter statement-you are surprised-no. or second thoughts yon are not; because she tole you herself that she wes a iiative of Sydney, and had gone home in 1S5S, after a trium? phant career of acting in Melbourne. And why did she leave th9 applauding Melbourne public and the flesh pots of Egypt? Yon 'know this also. She ran away with a rich yoong squatter, with more money than H|" morals, who happened to be in Melbourne at the trmA She seems to have had a weakness for running away. But why she chose fe "Whyte to go with this time puzzles me. He ||- was not rich, not particularly good looking, had no position, and a had temper. How do I know all these traits of Mr. Wbyte's char? acter, morally and socially? Easily enough \ my omniscient friend found them al! out. Mr. Oliver Whyte was the son of a London : tailer, and his father, being well o5T, retired Into private life, and ultimately went the way of all flesh. His son, finding himself -^_>with a capital income and a pretty taste for amusement, cut the shop of his late lamented parent, f'jund out that his family had come ever with the Cctoiieror-Glanville de Whyte helped'to sew the Bayeux tapestry, I suppose-and graduated at the Frivolity |?| theatre as a masher. In common with the other gilded youth of the day, he worshiped at the gas lit shrine of Musette, and the god? dess, pleased with his incense, left her other admirers in the lurch, and ran away with for? tunate Mr. Whyte. As far as this goes there is nothing to show why the murder was com? mitted. Men do not perpetrate crimes for f?'-'f the sake of light o' loves like Musette, unless indeed some wretched youth embezzles money j>.. to bay las divinity jewelry. The career of Musette in London was simply that of a clever member of the demi-monde, and, as .'-"? faros I can learn, uo one was so much in ;? love with her as to commit a crime for her " " sake. So far, so good; the motive of the eximo must be found in Australia, Whyte had spent nearly all his money in England, and consequently Musette and her lover ar? rived in Sydney wira comparatively little cash. However, with an Epicurean like philosophy they en joyed themselves on what little they had, and then came to Melbourne, where theystayed: at a second rate hotel. Musette, I may teifcyou, had one special vice, a common one-drink. She loved champagne, and drank a good deal of is. Consequently, on arriving in Melbourne, and finding that a new generation had arisen which knew not -Joseph-I mean Moselle-she drowned her , sorrow in the flowing bowl; and went out : h after-a-quarrel with Mr. Whyte to view Mel? li % bourne by night-a familiar aspect to her, no ^ doubt. What took her to Little Bourke street I dont know. Perhaps she got lost; perhaps %t had been a favorite walk of hers in the old days; at aU o vents shv was fo^nd dead drunk in that unsavory locality by Sal Rawlins. I know this is so, because Sal told mo so her? self. Sal acted the part of the good Samar itan; took her to the squalid den she called home, and there Rosanna Moore fell danger? ously AL Whyte, who had missed her, found ont where she was and that she was too ill to be removed. I presume he was rather glad to get rid of such an encumbran ce, so went back to his lodgings at St. Kilda, which, judging from the landlady's story, he must have occupied for some time, while Rosanna Moore was drinking herself to death in a quiet hotel Still he does not break off his connection with the d\"ing woman; bat one night L murdered in a hansom cab, and txit same night Rosanna Moore dies. from all appearance, every ;Hthing .is ended; not so. for before dyi::g ly"' Rosanna sends for Brian Fitzgerald at his ^ dub, and reveals to him a secret which he locks np in his own he wt. Thc writer of this letter has a theory-a fanciful one, if you will-that the secret told to Brian Fitzgerald contains tho mystery of Oliver* Whyte's death. Now .thea, have I not found out a good deal without you, and do you still de? cline to reveal tho rest? I do not say you know who killed Whyte, but I do say you know sufficient to lead to the detection of t h e murderer. If yon tell me, so much the better, both for your own sense of justice and for your peace of mind; if you do not-weil, I stall find it out without you. I have taken, ead still take, a great interest ia this strange case, and I have sworn to bring the murderer to justice ; so I make this last appeal to you to tell me what you know. If you refuse, I j will go to work to find out all about Rosanna j Moore prior to her departure from Australia in and I am certain sooner or later to dis? cover the secret which led to Wbyte's mur? der. If there is any strong reason why it should be kept silent, I, perhaps, xviii come round to your view, and let the matter drop; bot if I have to find it out myself, thc mur- ! derer of Oliver Whyte need expect no mercy at my hands. So think over what I have | asid. If I do not hear from you within the j ne t week I will regard your decision as ; final, and pursue the search myself. **I am sure, my dear Fitzgerald, you will find this letter too long, in spite of tho inter- ; .sting story it contains, so I will have pity oe you ead draw to a close. Remember me j to Miss Fret?&by and to her father. With : kind regards to yourself, I rennin, yours fwy truly. DUXCAX CALTON."' When Fitzgerald had finished the last of j the closely written sheets, he let the letter fall ' from his hands, and, leaning back in his chair, stared into the dawnie light outside : with a haggard face. He arose after a few j moments, and, pouring himself out a glass of : brandy, drank it feverishly. Then mechanic- j ally lighting a cigar, he stepped out of the door into ?hs fresh beauty of the dawn. I There vas a soft crimson glow in the east, which announced the approach of the sun, ftnd he could hear the chirping of the awak tcdng birds in the trees. But Brian did not . tee the marvelous breaking of the dawn, but stood staring at the redJigh^flariag ia the ??st, and thinking of Canton's letter. **I can do no more," fae said bitterly, lean- j . lag his head age*ast the wall of _the jtouse. "There is only" ono way of stopping Calton, and that is by telling him all My poor Madge! My poor Madge!" A soft wind arose, and rustled ?mong the trees, and there appeared great shafts of crimson light in the east; then, with a sud? den blaze, the sun peered over tho brim of the wide plain. The warm yellow rays touched lightly the comely head of the weary man, and, turning round, he held up his arms to the great luminary, as though he were a Sr? v orshiper. "I accept tho omen of tho dawn," he cried, **for her ?fe and for mine." CHAPTER XXV. WHAT DR. CHINSTON SAID. His resolution taten, Brian did not let the grass grow under his feet, but rode over in th9 afternoon to tell Madge of bis intended departure. The servant told him she was in the gar? den, so he went there, and, guided by the .sound of merry voices, and the silvery laugh? ter of pretty women, soon found his way to the lawn tennis ground. Madge and her guests were all there, scated under the shade of a great witch elm, and watching, with great interest, a single handed match being played between Rolleston and Paterson, both of whom were capital players. Mr. Frettlby was not present, as toe was inside writing let? ters, and talking with old Mr. Valpy, and Brian gave a sign of relief as hw noted his absence. Madge caught sight of him as he came down the garden path, and flew quickly toward "him with outstretched hands, as he took his hat off. "How good of you to come," she said, in a delighted tone, as she took his arm, and they sauntered slowly toward the house. Brian told her of his approaching departure, but not his reasons for going. "I got a letter last night," bo said, turning bis face awny from her; "and, as it's about some important business, I must start at once." "I don't think it will be long before we follow," answered Madge, thoughtfully. "Papa leaves here at the end ?of the week." "Why?" "rm sure I dont know," said Madge, petu? lantly; "he is so restless, and never seems to settle down to anything. He says for the rest of his life he is going to do nothing but wander all over tho world." There suddenly flashed across Fitzgerald's mind a line from Genesis, which seemed singularly applicable to Mr. Frettlby-"A fu? gitive and a vagabond thou shalt be in the earth." "Everyone gets these restless fits sooner or later," he said. idly. "In fact," with an un? easy laugh, "I believe Fm in one myself." "That puts me in mind of what I heard Dr. Chinston say ye-ierday," she said. "This is the age of unrest, as electricity and steam have turned us all into Bohemians." "Ahl Bohemia is a pleasant place," said Brian absently, unconsciously quoting Thack? eray, "but wo all lose our way to it late in life." "At that rate we wont lose our way to it for some time," she said laughing, as they stepped iuto the drawing room, so cool and shady, after tho heat and glare outside. As they entered Mr. Frettlby arose out of a chair near the window, and appeared to have been reading, as he held a book in his hand. "What! Fitzgerald," he exclaimed in a hearty tone, as he held out his hand; "I am glad to seo you." "I let you know I am living, dont ir re? plied Brian, his fair face flushing as he re? luctantly took the proffered hand. "But the fact is I have come to say good-by for. a few days." "Ah! gwing back to town, I suppose," said Mr. Frettlby, lying back in his chair and playing with his watch chain. "I dont know that you are wise, exchanging the clear air of the country for the dusty atmosphere of Melbourne." "Yet Madge teUs me you are going back," said Brian, idly toying with a vase of flowers on the table, "Depends upon cirenrnstances," replied .Midas carelessly. "I may and I may not. You co on business. I presume?" "Well, the fact is, Calton"- Hero Brian stopped suddenly, and bit his lip with vex? ation, for he had not intended to mention tibe lawyers name. "Yos?" said Mr. Frettlby interrogatively, sitting up quickly, and looking keenly at Brian. "Wants to see me alxmt business," ho finished awkwardly. "Connected with the sale of your station, I suppose," said Frettlby, still keeping his eyes on the young man's face. "Cant baw a bet? ter man. Calton's au excellent man of busi? ness." "A little too excel]'1 lit,"1 replied Fitzgerald, ruefully ; "he's a man that cant leave weil enough clone." . J "Apropos of what?" "Oh, nothing," answered Fitzgerald, hastily, and just thea his eyes met those of Frettlby. The two men looked at ono an? other steadily for a moment, but in that short space of time a single name flashed through their brains; that name was Rosanna Moore. Mr. Frettlby v.-as thc first to lower his eyes and break the magnetism. "Ah, well," he said lightly, as he rose from bis chair and held oa* .bis hand, "if you aro two weeks in town cai at St. Kilda, and it's moro than likely you will find us there." Brian shook hands in silence and watched him pick up his hat and move cn to tho ve? randa, and then out into the hot sunshine. "He knows," he muttered involuntarily. "Kinovs what, sir?" said Madge, who came silently behind him, and slipped her arm through his. "That you are hungry, and want something to cat before you lcavo us?" "I don't feel hungry," said Brian, as they walked toward the door. "Xonser.se," answered Midge, merrily, who, like Evo, was on hospitable ".hough ts in? tent. "Fra not going to have you appear in Melbourn? a paie, fond lover, as though I were treating you badly. Come, sir-no," she continued, putting up her band as he tried t ;:iss her, "business first, pleasure aftervsard." and they went into tho dining room laughing. Mark ls ttl hy wandered down to thc lawn tennis ground, thinking of the look he had seen in Brian's eyes. He shivered for a mo? ment in the Lot sunshine, as though it lind grown suddenly obi ii. "iSome one stepping ttcross my grave," ho murmured co himself, with a cynical j.miie. "Bah! Low superstitious I am, and yet-he knows, hi; know**" "C-ome- '-a. sir," cried F--i;--. who had just eau::':: slA-.i of :. ? -.-j packe: :.- -y.;> you." . Frettlby woke with a start, nn.i found himself near the lawn tennis ground, ?nd Felix at bis elbow, smoking a cigarette. ?2* Frettlby teoke ?vi?h a start. He roused himself with a great effort and ? ' tapped ?ne young man lightly on the ; shoulder. "What?" he said with a forced laugh, "do j you really expect me to play lawn tennis on ? such a day ( You are mach" j "I am bor, you mean,*' retorted the im- ? perturbab?e Rolleston, blowing a wreath of : 3 smoke. j % "That's a foregone concludion," said Dr. ! Chinston, who came up at that moment. "Such a charming novel," cried Julia, who ! . had just caught the last remark. j * "What is?" asked Paterson, rather puzzled. ' "Howells3 book. 'A Foregone Conclusion,* " | said Julia, also looking puzzled. "Weren't you talking about itf j | "Im afraid this talk is getting slightly in- ; coherent,'' said Felix, with a sigh. "We all fc seem madder than usual today." "Speak for yourself," ?<aid Chinston, indig- I nantiy; "Fm as sane as any man in the , woi.l." i ."Exactly," retorted the other, coolly, " "that's what I say. and you, being a doctor, j ; ought to know that every man and woman ^ in the world is more or less mad." ? ? "Where are your facts?'" asked Chinston, j smiling. j , "My facts are all visible ones," said Felix, j gravely pointing to the company. "They're j . aljLcrooked on some point or another."_ There was a chorus~?7 indignant denial at this, and then every one burst out laughing at the extraordinary way in which Mr. Rol? leston tv as arguing. '.If you go on like that in the house," said Frettlby. ?mused, "you will, at all events, have, an entertaining parliament." **Ah! they'll never have nn entertaining parliament till they admit ladies," observed Paterson, with a quizzical glance at Julia. "It will bea parliament of love then," re? torted tho doctor, dryly, "and not mediaeval either." While every one was laughing at this re? mark, Frettlby took tho doctor's arm and walked away with him. "I want you to ?come up to my study, doctor," ho said, as they strolled toward tho house, "and exam? ino me." '.Why, don't you feel well?' said Chinston, as they entered the house. "Not lately," replied Frettlby. "Fm afraid Fve got heart disease." Tho doctor looked sharply at him, and then shook his head. "Nonsense," he ?aid, cheerfully, "it's a common delusion with people that they have heart disease, and in nine cases out of ten it's all imagination; unless, indeed," he added, waggishly, "the patient happens to be a young man." "Ah! I suppose you think Fm safe as far as that goes,? said Frettlby, as they entered the study; "and what did you think of Ro? leston's argument about people being mad?" .l?t was amusing," replied Chinston, taking a seat, Frettlby doing tho same. "That's all I say can about it, though, mind you, I think there are more mad people at large than the world is aware of." "Indeed!" "Yes; do you remember that horrible story of Dickens', in the 'Pickwick Papers,' about the man who was mad, and knew it, yet suc? cessfully ooneealed it for years? Well, I be? lieve there aro many people like that in the world, people whose lives are one long strug? gle against insanity, and yet who eat, drink, talk and walk with the rest of their fellow men, evidently as gay and light hearted as they are." "How extraordinary." "Half the-murders and suicides are done in temporary ii Ss of insanity," went on Chin? ston, "and if a person broods over anything, his incipient madness is suro to broak out sooner or later; but, of course, there are cases where a perfectly sano person may commit a murder on thc; impulse of the moment, but I regari! such parsons as mad for the time be? ing; but, agata, a murder may be planned and executed ia the most cold blooded man? ner." "And in tte latter case," said Frettlby, without looking at the doctor, and playing with the paper knife, "do you regard the murderer as mad?" "Yes, I do," answered the doctor, bluntly. "He is as mad as a person who kills another because he supposes he has been told by God to do so-only there is method in his mad? ness. For instance, I believe that hansom cab murder, in which you were mixed up" "D- it, sir! I wasn't mixed up in it," in? terrupted Frettlby, pale with anger. "Beg pardon," said Chinston, coolly, "a slip of the tongue; I was thinking of Fitzger? ald. Well, I believe that crime to have been ' premeditated, and that the man who com- I mitred it was mad. Ho is, no doubt, at largo now, walking about and conducting himself as sanely as you or I, yet the germ of in? sanity is then?, and sconer or later he will commit another crime." "How do you know it was premeditated?" asked Frettlby. abruptly. "Any ono car. see that," answered the other. "Whyte was watched on that night, ard when Fitzgerald went away the other was ! ready to take his place, dressed the same." j "That's nothing," retorted Frsttlby, lock- ' Lng at his companion sharply. "There r.re dozens of men ia Melbourne who wear even? ing dress, light coats and soft hats-in fact, I generally wear them myself." "Well, that might have been a coinci? dence," said the doctor, rather disconcerted; "but thc use of chloroform puts the question i beyond a doubt; people don't usually carry chloroform about with them." "I suppose not," answered the other, and then the matter dropped. Chinston mace an examination of Mark Frettlby, and when ho had finished his face was very grave, though be laughed at the millioniarc's fears. "You're all right," he said, gayly. "Ac? tion of the heart a little weak, that's all wily," impressively, "avoid excitement avoid excitement." Just as Fretrlby was putting on his coat a knock came to the door anjl Madge catered. "Brian is gone," she began. "Oh, I beg ! venr purdon, doctor, bus is p.?pa, ill.'" she ! isked with sudden fear. "No. child, lia" said Frettlby, hastily, "I i im ad right; 1 thought my heart was af- j fected, but it isn't" "Not a bit of it," answered Chinston, re issuring. "Ail light, only avoid excite? ment." But when Frettlby turned to go to the door Madge, who had her eyes fixed on the doctor's face, ?aw how grave it was. "There is dar.gerf -~he said, touching bi? irm os they paused for a momcut at the loor "No, noT he answered hastily. "Yes. there is.'' she persisted. "Tell me the worst it is i??st for me co know.* The doctor looked at her in some doubt for s few moments and then placed his hands on ber shoulder "My dear young lady.* he said gravely, "I will tell you what 1 have not dared to tell pour father 9 **Whatf she asked in a low voice, her face growing pale "His heart is affected. * "And there is great dangerf "Yes, great danger. In the event of any sudden shock"- He hesitated. ?Yes" .'He would probably drop down dead." -My God!" CHAPTER XXV L KTLSIP HAS A THEORY OF RIS OW?V. Mr Calton sat in bis oCice reading a letter io had just received from Fitz^orald, and it eemed to give him great satisfaction, judg cg from the eomp^cent smile on his face. 4 know." wrote Brian, "that now you have ?ken up the affair, you will not stop until rou find everything out? so, as 1 want the natter to rest as at present, 1 will anth.-ipate rou, and reveal all. You were right in your j ?nj?oture thRt 1 knew something likely to ead to the detection of Whyte1? murderer. >ut when I tell you my reasons for keeping neb a thing secret, 1 am sure you will not ilarae rn?. M :nd you, 1 do not say that i mow who committed the murder; but 1 have aispicions-very strong suspicions-and I j ivisn to God Ifcosanna Moore had died before . he told mo what she did. However, I will ell you all, and leave you to judge as to j whether 1 was justified in concealing what 1 j vas told, i wi ll call at your office some time \ ?ext week, and then you will know every- j hing that Rosanna Moore told mo, but once \ ?hat you are rossessed of tho knowledge you rill pity me." "?lost extraordinary," mused Calton, lean- ? ng back in bis chair, as he laid down the et ter. "I wonder if bo's going to tell me I hat he killed Whyt* after all, and that 8al Rawlins perjured herself to save him! No, (hat's nonsense or she'd have turned up in letter time, and wouldn't have risked his leek up to the last moment. Though 1 majce t a rule never to be surprised at anything, I ; ixpect what Brian Fitzgerald tells me will tartle ma considerably I've never met with ucb an extraordinary case, and from all ap? esaran ces the end isn't reached yet. After di." said Mr. Calton, thoughtfully, ''truth is tranger than fiction.'* Here a knock came to the door, and in an wer to an invitation to enter, it opened, and iilsip glided into tbs? room. ..You're not engaged, sir," he said, In a oft, low voice. "Oh, dear, no," answered Calton, carelessly, 'come in, come in." Kilsip closed tba door softly, and gliding dong in his usual velvet footed manner, sat lown in a chair near Caiton's, and piecing us hat on the ground, looked keeuly at tho larrister "Well, Kilsip," said Caltou, with n yawn, baying with his wutch chain, "any good lews to tell me?" "Well, nothing parti'*n!irly now," purred he deterti ve, rubbing his hands together. "Nothiug now, ami uothing true, and no natter.*' 6aid Calton, quoting Emerson. 'And what have you come to see me aboutf "The hansom cab murder," replied tho ?ther quietly "The devil p cried Calton, startled out of tis professional dignity. "And have you bund out who did it.*" MNo/n answered Kilsip, rather dismally; 'but I've got an idea.'* "So had Gor by," retorted Calton, dryly, ?an Idea that ended in smoke. Have you i any practical proofs?" "Not yet." "That means you are going to get somqF ""Weil, if possible." "Mach virtue in if,* * quoted Calton, pick? ing up a pencil and scribbling idly on bis blotting paper. "And to whom does your suspicion point?" "Abai" said Air. Kilsip, cautiously. "Don't know bira," answered the other coolly; "family name Humbug, I presume. Bosh'. Whom do you suspectr Kilsip looked around cautiously, as if to make sure they were alone, aud then said, in a stage whisper: "Roger Moreland P "That was the young man that gave evi? dence as to how Whyte got dr un ki" Kilsip nodded. "Well, aud how do you connect him with the murder f "Do you remember fn the evidence given by th6 cabmen. Royston and Rankin, they ootb swore that the man who was with Whyte on that dight wore a diamond ring on the forefinger of the right hand*" "What of that? Nearly every second man In Melbourne wears a diamoud ring." "But not on the forefinger of the hand." "Uhi And Moreland wears a ring in that way/" "Yesr " Merely a coincidence. Is that all your proof?" "All I can obtain at present." "It's very weak," said Calton, scornfully. "The weakest proofs may form a chain to hang a man," observed Kilsip, sententiously. . "Moreland gave his evidence clearly enough," said Calton, risihg and walting up and down. "He met Whyte; they got drunk together. Whyte went out of the hotel, and shortly afterward Moreland followed with the coat, which was left behind by Whyte, and then somebody snatched it from him." "Ah, did they*" interrupted Kilsip, quickly. "So Moreland says," said Calton, stopping short. "1 understand; you think Moreland was not so drunk as he say3, and after following Whyte outside, put on bis coat, and got into the cab with him." "That is my theory." "it's ingenious enough," said the barrister; "but why should Moreland murder Whyte! What motive had he?" "Those papers" "Pshaw 1 another Idea of Gorby's," said Calton, angrily. "How do you know there were any paperer The fact is. Calton did not intend Kilsip to know that Whyte really bad papers until he heard what Fitzgerald had to tell him. "And another thing," said Calton, resum? ing bis walk, "if your theory is correct, which 1 don't think it is, what became of Why ta's coat? Has Moreland got it?" "No, he has not," answered the detective, decisively. "You seem very positive about it," said the lawyer, after a moment pause. "Did you ask Moreland about it r A reproachful look came into KiMp's white face. "Not quite so green," he said, forcing a smile. "1 thought you'd a better opinion of me than that. Mr. Calton. Ask bimi-na" *Then how did you find out?' "The fact is Moreland is employed cs a barman in the Kangaroo hotel." "A barman J" echoed Calton; "and he came out here as a gentleman of independent for? tuna VT by, hang it, man, that .n itself la sufficient to prove that he bad no motive to murder Whyte. Moreland pretty well lived on Whyte, so what could have induced him to kill his golden goose and become a barman -ps ba wi the idea is absurd." "Well, you may be right about the mat? ter," said Kilsip, rather angrily; "and if Gorby makes mistakes 1 don't pretend to be infallibla But at all events when 1 saw Moreland in the bar he wore a silver ring on the forefinger of his right hand." "Silver isn't & diamond." "No, but it shows that was the finger he was accustomed to wear his ring on When I saw that 1 determined to search his room. 1 managed to do so while be was out and found" "A mare's nest?" Kilsip codded. "And so your castle of cards falls to the ground," said Calton, jestingly. "Your idea is absurd. Moreland no more committed the murder than 1 did. Why he was too drunk on that night to do anything." "Humph-so be saya" "Well, men dont calumniate themselves for nothing." "It was a lesser danger to avert a greater one," replied Kilsip, coolly. "I am sure that Moreland was not drunk on that night. He only said so to escape awkward questions as to his movements. Depend upon it he knows more than he lets out." "Well, and bow did you intend to set about the matter/" "1 shall start looking for the coat first." "Ahl you think be has hidden itt" *Tm sure of it. My theory is this: When Moreland got out of the cab at Powlett street" "But he didn't," Interrupted Calton, angrily. "I^et us suppose, for the sake of argument, that bo did/' said Kilsip, quietly. "I say when he left tho cab he walked up Powlett street, turned to the left down George street, and walked back to town through the Fitz? roy gardens, then, knowing that the coat waa noticeable, he threw it away, or hid it, and walked out of the garden* through tho town" "In evening dress more noticeable than coat." "He wasn't in evening dress," said Kilsip, quietly. "No more be waa," observed Calton, eagerly, recalling the evidence at the trial "Another blow to your theory. The mur? derer was in evening dress-the cabman said so." "Yes; because he bad seen Mr. Fitzgerald in evening dress a few minutes before, and thought that he was the same man who got into the cab with Whyte." "Well, what of that?" "If you remember, the second man had his coat buttoned up Moreland wore dark trousers-at least, I suppose so-and, with the coat buttoned up, it was easy for the cab? man to make the mistake, believing, aa he did, that it was Mr. Fitzgerald." "That sounds better,"said Calton, thought? fully. "And what are you going to dof "Look for the coat in the Fitzroy gar* dens." "PshawI a wild goose chase." "Possibly," said Kilsip, as he arose to go. "And when shall I see you again?" said Calton. "Oh, to-night," said Kilsip, pausing at the door. "1 had nearly forgotten, Mother Gut? tersnipe wants to see you." "Why* What's upi" "She's dying, and wants to tell yon some secret." "Rosanna Moore, by Jove I" said Calton. "Sho'll tell me something about her. I'll get to the bottom of this yet. All right, I'll be ! here at 8 o'clock." "Very well, sirl" and the detective glided out "I wonder if that old hag knows any? thing?" said Calton to himself, as he resumed his seat. "She might have overheard some conversation between Whyte and his mis? tress, and is going to split. Well, I'm afraid when Fitzgerald does confess 1 will know all about it beforehand." CHAPTER XXVTL MOTHER GUTTERSNIPE JOINS TTIE MAJORITY Punctual to his appointment, Kilsip called at Caltoa's office at 8 o'clock, in order to guide him through the squalid labyrinths of j the slums, and found the barrister waiting I impatiently for him. They went into Little Bourke street, and ' af 1er going through the narrow and dark j lanr?, which now seemed quite familiar to Calton, roached Mother Guttersnipe's den, j for in truth it could be e;d lcd nothing else, j After climbing the rickety stairs, which ? groaued and creaked beneath their weight, j they entered the room, and found Mother ! Guttersnipe lying on the bed in the corner, ! and the elfish child with the black hair play- j ing canis with a slatternly looking girl at the i deal ta!>!e by the faint light of a tallow can- . die. Th^y l?oth sprang to their feet as tho strangers entered, and the .-llish child pushed a broken chair in a sullen manner toward Mr Calton, while the other giri shuffled into a far corner of the room, and crouched down there like a dog. The noise of their entry awoke tho hag from au uneasy slumber into which she had fallen, and sitting up in bed, she huddled tl-.o clothes round lier, and pre? sented such a grewsouie spectacle that Caltou involuntarily roc-oiled. Her white hair was all unbound, and bungin tangled masses over her shoulder iii snowy profusion. Her face, parched and wrinkled, wi Lb the hooked nose aud beady black eyes, like those of a mouse, was poked forward, and her skinny arms. bare to the shoulder, were waving about as ?she grasped at the bedclothes with her claw like hands. She was evidently growing very weak, so Calton turned to Kilsip and told him in a whisper to get a doctor. The detective ?scribbled a noto on some paper, and, giving it to Uzer, ordered her to take it At this, the other girl rose, and, putting her ana ia that of tho child's, they left together. "Them two young \isseys goue?" said Mother Guttersnipa "Right you ara, I don't want what i've got to tell to get into the noospaper, I don't." "And what is itr asked Calton, bending forward. The old woman took another drink of gin, and it seemed to put life into her, for she sat up in the bed and commenced to talk rapidly, ns though she were afraid o* dying before her secret was toid, "You've been 'ere aforer she said, point? ing one skinny finger at Calton, .'and you wanted to find out all about 'er; but you didn't, blarst ye. She wouldn't let me tell, for she was always a proud jade, a flouncin' round while 'er pore mother was a starvin'." "Her mother I Are you Rosanna Moore's mother V cried Calton, considerably aston? ished. "May I die if I ain't," croaked the hag. " 'Er pore father died of drink, an' Pm a fol lerin' >lm to the same place in the same way. You weren't about town in tho old days, or you'd a bin after her, biarst ye." "After Rosanna?' "The werry girl," answered Mother Gut? tersnipe. "She were on tho stage, she were, an' my eye, what a swell she were, with ail the coves a-dyin' for 'er, an' she dancin' over their black 'earls, cuss 'em; but she was allays good to mo till 'o came." "Who carnot" u i??n yfcued the old woman, raising her? self on her ?rm, her eyes sparkling with vin? dictive fury. "'E, a-comin* around with di'monds and gold, and a-ruinin' my pore girl; an' how 'e's 'eld 'is bloomin' 'ead up all these years as if he were a saint, cuss 'im cuss 'im I" "Who does she mean?" whispered Calton to Kilsip. "Mean!" screamed Mother Guttersnipe, whose sharp ears bad caught the muttered question. "Why, Mark FrettJbyJ" "Good God!" Calton rose up in bia aston? ishment, and even fulsip's inscrutable coun? tenance displayed some surprise. "Aye, 'e were a swell in them days," pur? sued Mother Guttersnipe, "and 'e comes a-philauderin' round my gal, blarst 1m,"an* seduces :er, and leaves er and 'er child to starve, like a black 'earted villain as 'e were." "The child! Her namer "Bah,1' retorted the hag, with scorn, "as if you didn't know my gran'darter SaLrt "Sal, Mark Frettiby's child/" "Yes, an' as pretty a girl a* the other, tho* she 'appeued to be born on the wrong side of the 'edge. Oh, I've seen 'er a-sweepin' along in 'er silks an' satins as tho' we were dirt an* Sal er 'alf sister-cuss 'er." Exhausted by the efforts she bad mad?, the old woman sank back in ber bed. while Calton sat in a dazed manner, thinking over the astounding revelation that had just been mada That Rosanna Moore should turn out to be Mark Frettiby's mistress he hardly wondered at; after all, he was but a man, and in his young days had been no better and no worse than the rest of his friends. Ro? sanna Moore was pretty, and was evidently one of those women who-rakes at heart prefer the untrammeled freedom of being a mistress to the sedate bondage of a wife. In questions of morality, so many people live in glass bouses that there are few nowadays who can afford to throw stones, so Calton did not think any worse of Frettlby for bis youthful follies. But what be did wonder at was that Frettlby should be so heartless as tc leave his child to the tender mercies of an old hag like Mother Guttersnipe, it was so entirely different from what he knew of the man, that he was inclined to think it was some trick of the old woman's. "Did Mr. Frettlby know Sal was bis childT he asked, "Not 'an snarled Mother Guttersnipe, fn an exultant tone. " 'e thought she wa? dead, 'e did, arter Ro^carmer gave him the go by." "And why did you not tell bimf " 'Cause 1 wanted to break his 'eart. if 'e 'ad any," said the old beldame, vindictively. "Sal was a-goin' to eli as fast as she could tili she was tuk from me. If she had gone and got into quod i'd 'ave gone to him. and said 'Look at yer darter! 'Ow Tve ruinai her cs yon did mina' " "You old devil," said Calton, revolted at the malignity of the schema "You have sacrificed aa innocent girl for this." ".None of your preach in," retorted the bag 'sullenly: "1 ain't been brought up for a saint, 1 ain't-an' I wanted tc pay 'im out. blarst'ira -'e paid me well to 'old my tongue about my darter, an I've got it 'ere." lay mg ber hand on tbe pillow. "AU gold, good gold-an' mine, cuss ce." Calton arose; be felt quite sick at this ex? hibition of human depravity, and longed tc be away As he was putting on bis hat, however, the two girls entered witb a doctor, who bowed to Kilsip, cast a sharp scrutiniz? ing glance at Calton, and then walked over to the bed. The two girls weut back to their corner, and waited in silence for the end. Mother Guttersnipe had fallen back in the bed, with one claw-like hand ciutching tho pillow, as if to protect ber beloved gold, and over ber face a deadly paleness was spread? ing, which told the practiced eye of the doc? tor that the end was near He knelt down beside the bed for a moment, holding the candle to the dying woman's faca She open? ed her eyes, and muttered drowsily: "Who's you* go tf ell," but then shs seemed to grasp the situation again, and she started up with a shrill yeiL, which made the bearers shudder, it was so weird and eeria "My money f she yelled, clasping the pil? low in her skinny arms, "lt's all mine, ye shan't have it, blarst ya" Tho doctor arose from his knees, and shrugged his shoulders "Not worth while doing anything," he said, coolly, "she'll bo dead soon." The old woman, mumbling over her pil? low, caught the word, and burst into tears. "Dead! dead! my poor Rosanna, with 'er golden 'air, always lovin' 'er pore mother till 'e took 'er away, an' she came badi to die -die-ooh!" Ker voice died away in a lODg. melancholy wail, that made tbe two girls in the corner shiver and put their fingers in their ears. "My good woman," said the doctor, bend? ing over tho bed, "would you uot like to see a niinisterf She looked at him with her bright, beady eyes, already somewhat dimmed with tho mists of death, and said, in a harsh, low whisper-" Why*" "Becanso you have only a short time to Uve," said the doctor, gently. "You are dy? ing." Mother Guttersnipe sprang up, and seized his ann with a scream of terror "Dyi:i'. dyin'-no J no I" she wailed, claw? ing bis sleeve. "1 ain't fit to die-cuss nie; save me-save me, 1 dont know where i'd go to, s'elp mc-save me." The doctor tried to remove ber hands, but she held on with wonderful tenacity. "Ir. is impossible," ho said bne??y. The hag fell back in her bed. V? -M^y/VA (r,v t ,-ss 1: J, . V: '. \tv.;A-.s.-v.?;,'v'i / sold ni y <u'<l Jor it. "I'll civ* you n:'?ney to save roo." she shrieked; "g'xxl money -cM mine- ::!! mine. Seo-we-'oro-suveraias." and. tearing ber pillow open, sh.? took out a canvas bag, an ! from it poured ri gleaming stream of gold. Gold-gold-it rolled all over tb?? ?"?ed. over the floor, away ii:*.> the 'lar!; comers, yet no one touched it. so enchained wore they by tho horrible spectacle of too dying woman chuging to Mfa She clutched np s?-;:ie of tho shining pieces, and held them up to the thrco men >:s they stood si len il y beside the bed. but her bonds trembled so that the sovereigns kept falling from them ou t'.io Hoer, with metallic clinks. "All mino-all mine/" she shrieked, loudly. "Give me my lifo-gold-money-cuss ye-I seid mys:?ul for it-save me-give me my life," a??, with trembling hands, she tried io force the gold on them. They did not say a word, but stood silently looking at her, while the two pris in the corner clung to? gether, and trembled with fear "Dont loon at mo-don't," cried the hag, falling down again amid the shining gold. "Ye want rae to die. ?larst ye-1 shan't I shan't-give me my gold," clawing at tho scattered sovereigns. "I'll ta ke it with me 1 shan't die-?-G-n whimpering. "1 aint done notbiu'-Jet me live-give me a Bible save me, G-cuss lt-G-,?-,w and she fell back on the bed, a corpse. The faint light of the candle flickered on the shining gold and the dead face, framed in tangled white bair-, while the three men, sick at heart, turned away in silence to seek assistance, with that wild cry still ringing in their ears "U- save me, G-f* [TO BE COXTINTED.1 of All Cough medicines, Ayer's Cherry Pec? toral is in greater demand than ever. No preparation for Throat and Lung Troubles is so prompt in its effects, so agreeable to the taste, and so widely known as this. It is tho family medi? cine in thousands of households. "I have suffered for years from a bronchial trouble that, whenever I take cold or am exposed to inclement weath? er, shows itself by a very annoying tickling sensation in the throat and by difficulty in breathing. I have tried a great many remedies, but none does so well as Ayer's Cherry Pectoral which always gives prompt relief in returns of my old complaint."-- Ernest A. Hepler, Inspector of Public Hoads, Parish Ter? re Bonne, La. " I consider Ayer's Cherry Pectoral a most important remedy ,_, For Home Use. I have tested its curative power, in my family, many times during the past thirty years, and have never known it to fail. It will relieve the most serious affections of the throat and lungs, whether in children or adults." - Mrs. E. G. Edgerly, Council Bluffs, Iowa. "Twenty years ago I was troubled with a disease of the lungs. Doctors afforded me no relief and considered my case hopeless. I then began to use Ayer's Cherry Pectoral, and, before I had finished one bottle, found relief. I continued to take this medicine until a cure was effected. I believe that Ayer's Cherry Pectoral saved my life." Samuel Griggs, Waukegan, 111, " Six years ago I contracted a severe cold which settled on my lungs and soon developed all the alarming symp? toms of Consumption. I had a cough, night sweats, bleeding of the lungs, pains in chest and sides," and was so Prostrated as to bo confined to my ed most of the time. After trying various prescriptions, without benefit, my physician finally determined to give me Ayer's Cherry "Pectoral. I took it, and the effect was magical. I seemed to rally from the first dose of this medicine, and, after using only three bottles, am as well and sound as ever." -Rodney Johnson, Springfield, 111. * Ayer's Cherry Pectoral; PREPARED BY Dr. J. C. Ayer & Co., Lowell, Mass. Sold by all Druggists. Price $1; ELI bettles, $5. I wish to inform ktbose who have not yet examined ray beautiful and cheap stock of DRY GOODS, NOTIONS, SHOES, LADIES' AND G?:NTS' HATS, STAPLE AND FANCY GROCERIES, that by fair dealings and Low Prices, my trade is increasing daily. If they will give me an opportunity of showing them through ray stock aud giving them prices, I am satis? fied I wili add their names to my fast increas? ing list of customers. F?llte and attentive clerks will take pleasure in sha ic in g goods. B. J. BARNETT, Main Street, in the BeDd, Oct. 24 Sumter, S. C. THE CHOWING FliUIT STORE, Headquarters for all kinds Fruits, Veg? etables, &c. WHOLESALE ANO BETAIL, The largest assortment all kinds Crackers and Candies in the City. I also keep a full line of Staple as? Fancy Groceries. BEST GOODS -A.ND Lowest Prices Guaranteed. HOSES GBEEN, Oct 17. Main Street. Sumter. S. 0 Oar Bi Si lil ??j ThiSris the mrtjrszin? fur little folks begin? ning to ?v-?-: '?>!' 'he.ose!vi s. .Mrs M. tv. ?::itts h?t? written a m-w story in I ttrelve paris entitled Patchy ??:d Hippity Hcp. i: will haw ? dozen delightful full pajie pictures. IU>\ > Menagerie will picture many an- j innis, a ti d ?rive, Bob's peculiar account of i hem. j Mrs Ciar:. Po ty Kat rs will co n tri Kate :i dozen perms about Daria- Nature's Elves, the j rt::! .*!ves. .Many pictures by Mr. L. J. I l>i idytrian. There \\??? be storit-sof linnie and foreign ! Wc. .?ritneiif sports, some Wes.ern floral wein- i ?leis, little "pirres lo spwtk." and seventy- j liv:? fiili-p::?G pictures, besides J1'.? ""1 of j ??ua?rr OM'.-S. Twelve limes ? ye?r, and j lo: only ?I '"' Srtmo'e.mpv 3 rents. i>. LtyniRiM' I;?MPANV, i'u.-.ii-I;.TS. Uostoti, Mass. FOR SALE. QEVERAL DESIRABLE BUILDING O HHS Atipiv io Nov. 14 m THUS E. RICHARDSON. EflSPfc PARKER'S \ mm??m HAIR BALSAM |?V?"- <r i^'Tm^' J..-.-I btautifie* the hair. |P&???&'''*' 6g@eroaiotes a luxuriant growth. gS^Ti';v . v^?S^ever Fa?? to Resiore Gray K&k&ra JgSS Hair <J ?is Vouthf?? Color. S, S"^SRcuresscalr- ciseasesand raur falling "KE?S^S_*"c. at r?r?iorei?*A A-i--?-am???- 11 ii i ?? i nm m? i mi? mw FARKSR'SG.KGSSTONSC uivaiu?LIo for Cough?. CVIJ?. Iiiward Pains. Exlumtiou. H?R i GAR LOAD 3 AND MULES TO ARRIVE ON 5 At the Sale and Feed Stables of Nov 22, '88. The Notice of Every One is Called to the Fact that R. W. DURANT & SON Keep a Full Supply of Goods in their Lme, Farmers Sift ?Mm Snpplies, H?M SsA Itv COOKING AND HEATING STOVES OF J5EST MAKE ! WAGON AND BUGGY MATER??L FROM A BOLT TO A WHEEL. PUMPS, B0T3 IRON AND WOOD. . ' Belting in Rubber and Leather, and Packing of all Kinds? Imported Guns. Muzzle and Breech Loading! PISTOLS IN VARIETY FROM $1 UP. POWDER, SIIOT AND SHELLS, &c , AND We are Agents for the Great Western Powder Company, TABLELAND POCKET CUTLERY, &c. With many thanks to a generous public for their past liberal patronage, and soliciting still their kind support, weare Respectfully, etc., R. W. DURANT & SON, . Sept. 12 Main Street, Opposite Bank. PROPRIETORS OF ORE. This Firm is too well known to our readers to require any pvff, but having been silent for the past two years, (doing their advertising by another method) they deem it best tb announce through this medium, that their shelves are laden with as corA p?ete a stock of BOOTS AND SHOES, as can be found in any Retail Store in the State, and they are determined not to be undersold; but they will under-sole every? body, in any style, according to their respective tastes and pocket books. From the cheapest to the finest, all grades are' complete. Don't fail to call, if you want to walk on solid leather, and' PERFECT FITTING- SHOES. Remember they are Shoe-makers, and know their business* This is their Eighteenth Year in Sumter. Oct. 3 Proprietors of The Sumter Shoe Store. ?889-EXCELS ALL OTHERS-1889 LITERATURE, ART, AM) FASHION; THE BE<5T A\D CHEAPEST of thc TadyVhoofcs. It gives more f:>r the rro'.ey end coarin;* crentor merits than any other. Such popular authors ft?fs. Lucv H. HOOPOr, r?l"3. Rebecca Hardlnsr Davis. M*ss M. C. McCIellard. Miss Alice Bcwrran, Edgar Fawcett. Frank Lee Benedict. Howard See'y. m* ? k?t o' o:1,<>rs vnt* for "PETEUSON," and their names are a guarantee of the excellence cf their stories. . ^ THE MAfMZTVE v*Tl M rr:.fn?flv i'lust^?M with ?!ep?rtt ft'ol ?nd other 0D?r?Ti3g3 and pretty F WY: Y AXD "?VOKK-T \3IJ5 PATTE??NS, nriHcd ir. o-lors. THE FASHION- DEPAT?T7JEXT will pr'?*>nt tho n?wost nr..! Prc?^^mAv f.v mit-joor and house -venn and will have, each month. A KAXDS02TE CCtCBED FASBH? 1*S>ATE. print-vi from steel. ^ - rVntrib^.o,,* *ri HEALTH. THE TOTT-ET. COOKEET. TPE CATTrX. nr<T Her?*.*.. HOLD MATTE S3 generally wSl to given ia e-cli nnffilor, making s. loo* hrwauabiC to every w oman. ELEGANT PREMIUMS FOR GETTING UP CLUBS t TERMS, AZuVJAYS IN ABV?NOT, $-.03 il TZAP. ^ . : w 2 Copies for 83.50 f with th* dtasret bo-*. ?}S?A* awi WMaww.** <r a "n-p. tr.gravini, 3 .< M ") "The Homing Greeting.** as a premium for c -ttl :g np ?he ow. 4 Conies for f \r?th <" ?tira e.irv of tho Magazine for 1?$0, as a premio?, to tb? 6 " " 9.00 j person g^ttins un the club. -, Copies for S?.O0 f Vi'!. hoth :;n *xfra -.f ;U ^^ine for T.-?3 *trf tho Virro oigray 7 " " 10.5?) 1 inger thet??k "Bad* and I*.!?.s?n:s** to the joreon getriagnptiiocIuU. For Larger CJufes, a sst c? Dic^sns'G Gferks er a Sewtag-Ksc&tao! Ad**** PETERSONS MAGAZINS, a?*Spefimen5 5ci5t jrmtf- to - $ ?;? -in!* r-?rh. ?<v-> C?i^tRTt >r.. Phi?s'MpliiA, F?. ^ ii MW! I JWJMOI-IL-I-IJ. :>.ll. IJ LU - Ililli ?ll MftTtt " J 1W.il ?. I1'VI i ^ff^^^tf'-'mt Wff?SWBft-^ THE PANSY F0IU889. I GEO. W. STEFFENS* Edited by PANSY-Mrs. G. R. Alden. j WHOLESALE G BOCEE, The Pansy is ?n illustrated monthly con- : ??icticn and Ccnimissicn Merchant* ta?n?ng from thirty-Sye io toity pages of ? ftn*TWftT? TWJc reading matter, lt is devoted to young ?otks j <u*u ^^.vi, from fi^iit to finet-n. Its contributors Are; AC.KNT TOR arnon?: the heil w riters for yonn- I.s. j f}tC jr:m$t ?Jamit cure(7 (n tile IT. S. Fausv's N?'W Serial will run tnrougltout j the s ear :i:?d ss entitled The Way < ?ur. Also Agent for ^wi;1 contiKCe h:r Goi;iCR Texl I The Philip Best Brewing Go/ Margaret Sidnoy has a serial story entitled j MILWAUKEE BEER. Rob : A Story for hov?. !? ii full of the ed- | ^ KAgT g ^y AKD 50 a:,0 52 STATE SlS.t" rentores, Colics and ambitions of P. wide? awake ber. (Auction Room State Street,) Mrs. C.*.M. Livingston has talcs ?f rfc??d- j C?????LISTON, S. C. life and * 1 -1 :-i ways, i:i a nev uepartmect, : _ . n . . , Ibby's Comer. " ! -f3" -Consignments Solicited. Tl c i;??ic i;.nd Readings, The Queer Story ; X?V 25 _^_ ? column and the P. Corner wi?i ail te con- I The Pansy is only ono dollar a year. A hy? g g|| g , ses&ISaalWf spee?men copy tor rivi? cents. V< u can get ^c-r.r own subscription fir-.' by ? \A"?YOT PS \ T ^ sentling tvvo new Suhs^ibers wHh two dollars H xXViit*^'Ai-?*-? to pay for rame. Yon r^?-*? r< :::^.^r.-o;t to. j ^ ^ ^*>3 MONEY TO LOAN, i . , T . T. , TNsrMsofS3oo^uPws,owse.iAiiu Liquor Dealer/ I cured bv first mortage on improved {-.?rm ! . . lands at 3 per cent, interest and a small com- ? OFFICE ATD SALESROOM : mission. Apply to & ?. B?, j ?33 ^ ^ Charlcstcn, S. 0/ Oct.. 10-3m. JrtXof?cr? ?I Luw. ? Nuv. 7 o