The Union times. [volume] (Union, S.C.) 1894-1918, January 22, 1904, Image 1
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two k jmiturc Manufacturing ton- H B fl B*4 B I I M B B B I ^ ' jB^' B / Mill, another building, Gold Si incffrns,
Female Seminury, Five B H B fl I J B I I fll B ~B B fll . -<fl B W B Bill in&' Famous Mineral Springs,
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- 1 Frank~~^ake 18 ??.???? ' 1 ??
VOI.. LIV. NO 4. ONION, SOUTH CAROLINA,IRlfiAVy JAK^ARY 22, 1904. Ol.ftft A vkar.
i Wm. A. NicI
BAN
SOLICIT YO
[ *' ou^Vums ark as libe
i OUR FACILITIES AND RES
1flONAl F&
j | EL^ I M/
Copyright, K02, by
Charles W. Ilooko
lie had nn unconquerable habit of
keeping his own nfTnlrs to himself.
lie enjoyed remarkably good fortune,
Including n uotable Immunity from illness
and lnjdnf. In which -connection I
may record fact that he never had
one of the so colled diseases of childhood.
In other respects he was the typical
American boy. lie played as much as
possible- and studied when his conscience
or bis elders compelled him to
do so. He had his friendships and hlrchlldlsh
loves. He romped gayly in
the long summer evenings and committed
clever und amusing mischief
once In awhile, In Regard to which I
think that even the 'recording angel
always waited for Donald's confession.
and never attempted to know the
\ facts In advance of .lt.
\, ^ At the age of sixteen he was rendy
. v for college, He was then six feet in
I: . height and weighed 170 pounds. He
resembled both his parents, hut was
generally called his mother's boy, for
J be ba&'tterjg^ gol^-h^ryaad isr)gt4.
^ ' most plainly Ju -moments of excitement,
BMP' and at such times, even during his
W ' <ftlldhood.* young Domild would exhibit
the solemn, superlicial calm and extreme*
precision 'of speech which had always
characterized the "deacon" when
Jh a high state of nervous tension.
If lis. had during his youth such
psycm^eltperieuces as are noi uic coui'v.
mon ldi of humanity, I was not able
to obs#frve tbgm. A few vague hints
of no more importance than the sclioolremark
which I have quoted
have been tlie best evidence
ifcfc; %'/- that I could have adduced previous to
the month of June in the year 181)0.
We were expc^ng him home from
* college in a week$}* two when wo were
. ' surprised by recwvlng this telegram:
Last exam, today. Leave immediately.
Xou will aee me tomorrow.
We knew that he had intended to
stay beyond class day and that the
u Nirslty baseball nine, of which he was
r. .f' a member, bad tiot closed its season, so
irij ' the message pbzzied us and gave rise
' < to considerable anxiety. Ilia mother
telegraphed for an explanation, but no
answer came. On the morrow, how*
v\ ever, came Donald himself, hale and
^ T't/ happy, and handsome beyond the
droutns of romance. .When we assailed
P him with questions, lie slared at us.
"Why, there's no particular reason
for my coming," said he. "I merely
felt like it; that's all."
Then after u pause he added:
"I wonder why the dickens 1 did
come? I can't think, unless it was be
[? ; cause I wanted to see uiy very besi
girl."
Whereupon he put his arm nerosi
bis mother's shoulders and kissed liei
a . ' ~ ? ,wl
icnaeriy upon mi- iuuhhiu uu..
To nil appearances Dorothy might In
Jf , deed have been his "very best girl" 01
perhaps his sister, but surely not hlf
?jf f . mother. She had preserved her youth
; / ' vful locks to n degree that Is beyond th<
of the render, so that I slml
jfcedBtafo#ItEmpt to Btnte the truth nbout It
she was thirty, the Tunbridgt
? - 'IWOplasppoke of her with wonder, an<
?R'.- she looks younger now than she dl<
* ' " ' . Donaldson, upon the other hand, ha
aged greatly. lie is a worrying mar
1 am nfraid, nnd must always be sc
Moreover, he received a peculiar in
Jury some yenrs ago, when an old fat
tory building which we bought fror
the Strobel estate collnpsed while i
dozen of our workmen were inspeel
log It with n view to ascertaining it
" needs. Donaldson was the flrst to pei
ceive the peril, nnd it Is snld that b
sustained a mass of falling timbers i
the posture of Atlas long enoug
to permit several of his companions t
crawl out to snfety who would othei
wlso have been shut In. A maze <
tradition has grown up around this li
client, but it really, involved nothin
lolson & Son.
KERS,
UR BUSINESS ...
O SEE US.
V
RAL AS ANY CAN GIVE YOU.
OUNCES APE UNSURPASSED.
, I 1
1_
ehvj a True Record and Explanation of the Seven .
Mysteries Nw Associated With His Name In
the Public Mind, and of an Eighth,
Mid) Is the Key of the Seven
iON, JR.
) By HOWARD FIELDING
more than ? very renay nnu nrnvc ua<
of great physical strength. Though hi
C8Cnned broken hones nr nnu cnnnlfl.
-- ? "" >
! hurt to which the best of doctors conic
1 give a location or a name, he was neve
the same man afterward. He begar
to sloop In the shoulders and to movi
more slowly, and upon his forty-sec
ond birthday his hair was as white at
mine.
He was morbidly sensitive about th<
change in his looks, though he hac
come by it so honorably, and 1 bav<
seen tears in his eyes when strangeri
havo spoken of Dorothy ns his daugh
ter. I think that he had always helt
too high an idea of youth. It is a com
mon fault and was exaggerated in bin
by his love of Dorothy, who would no
grow old. She seemed to stand stil
while he was dragged onward in tin
grip of time. This is the natural sor
row of women, but one which men ar<
rarely called upon to bear.
When Donald "came home that Jun<
day, his father was busy about som<
matter of immediate importance, anc
BftJ,11?. nvlked^lawn to the of
upon the other side of the street froit
the factory. I was witness of a mosl
affectionute greeting. Donaldson wai
very proud of his sou, as he had everj
reason to be, and the boy loved bin
1 heartily. Afterward Donald paid bii
j respects to the office staff, especially t<
I eld Jim Bunn, our cashier, and hii
I crippled assistant, Tim Healy, some
; limes caneu tiny j nn, a youm wuu ou
on a very high stool and kept the hand
i somest set of books in the state of Nev
| Jersey.
I I lost sight of Donald for a littli
1 while and subsequently discovered bin
in my private office. He was sitting ii
my chair, with his head thrown bad
: and his clasped hands pressed bnr<
i ncross his eyes. I asked bitn what wa
| the matter, and he started up and be
I gan to walk around the room in a pc
culiar, aimless fashion.
| "Uncle John," said he at last, "everj
i, thing is all right, isn't it? You're no
, worried or anxious?"
"Anxious?" said I. "Certainly no
What should I be anxious about?"
"I don't know," said he, with besltf
tion. "Perhaps I oughtn't to have agl
ed you the question."
"Ask me whatever you please, m
linv " nn Id I
lie resumed his restless wanderin
about the room.
"I wish I knew what to do," he sol
at last. "I feel very uneasy."
"In regard to what?" I Inquired.
"That's Just the point," he repliei
"What is it all about? I don't know.1
lie had a despondent and tormente
air, nnd the sight of It carried me bac
? o good many years to the day when
bad first seen his father. It was In
. | possible to shake my mind free of thi
memory. The scene of long ago i
r Bertram's eating bouse recurred wit
? startling vividness.
. . I was aware of a strange sensatio
j that this was something for which
1 had been waiting?a long expected o<
. currence. There came to me also a
? indescribable depression of spirit and
1 sense of chill.
1 "Do you mean"? I began. But L
begged me hastily not to ask him an:
s thing.
I( "This is a queer business, Unc
John," said he. "I think I'm on tt
,. point of getting myself into all klnc
.. of u tangle, and I don't want to do
a the very first day I'm home. Pleai
tt let me think it over."
I. "Speak when you are ready, Donald
j, said I. "It was alwayB a habit <
.. yours."
e We were Interrupted by the advei
n of Dorothy, who bad come down fro
b the house in a pony phaeton. She woi
0 a sober gray gown, but It had the dal
p. ty grace of all her raiment Dorott
never takbs any pains to dress elth
j. young or old. Her clothes are for Do
g othy. They would not suit anybo<:
else, and they have nothlhfcjoto wU4
? years. ^ \ -> .
Donald surveyed her With affection
f ate admiration. , . "
"My Incredible mother!* .hq
drawing her close to and looking
down Into her flee.
Then 1 saw the tears china snddenlj
Into his eyes. Be drew a.qhlck, dees
breath and stood sharply eredt, so thai
he seemed to grow both In breadth and
height, while she looked almost like a
frightened child In the embrace of hla
arm.
"Be careful!" she cried, with a gasp
and a laugh. "You will break my
bones!"
_ "Did I hurt you, little mother?" said
he. "Well, by the same token, nobody
^ else ever shall."
"To what do we owe the honor of
this visit?" I asked Dorothy, and she
replied that she had come to take my
nephew, Carleton Archer, across to the
town of Sol way, where oor other factory
was situated. Archer was an
able, energetic and ambitious young
man who had been brought into my
service about two years before to be
Donaldson's assistant and lighten his
burdens. He lived at my bouse and
was the leading spirit In all our recreations.
He was blessed with unfailing
activity of. mind and body. He could
both work and play at the same time.
Often be baa come to me at midnight
with business plans that he had
thought out during the evening, an
evening devoted to ceaseless gnyety of
u the somewhat childish sort In which
b he found his chief delight and relaxa;
tlon. He was an enthusiast for the
1 gentler forms of athletics, such As wor
men may Indulge in, and as a result
i of his efforts there were tennis courts
a upon our lawn and golf links on the
south slope of the hill,
i After Dorothy and Carl had ridden
away In the phaeton Donald remained
b with me until luncheon time, when he
1 and his father and 1 walked up to the
8 house together. The boy was not quite
i himself, ns any one could see, and I
. was consumed with curiosity to know
1 what lay on his mind, but experience
. taught me to Ignore the subject
1 Donald spent the afternoon with his
t mother, who returned from Solway,
1 which was only a matter of five miles
3 distant In time for luncheon. In the
. evening he disappeared, and I found
J
t. "Be carefull" the cried.
him about 0 o'clock sitting on the
? steps ot the office. I don't know how
i- I happened to go down there and
should be inclined to include it among
y the mysteries of the affair.
"Uncle John," said he when I sat
5 down beside him, "you told me that I
could ask you whatever I pleased.
d Will you tell me whether you are surrounded
by thoroughly trustworthy
people in your business?"
6 This was a rather startling question,
? and I answered it with another:
j "Do you know anything to the conli
trary?"
I "No," be replied "If I did. I'd tell
i- you, of course. I don't know anything,
,8 but 1 feel a lot! Is Mr. Bunn a good
p man?"
b I replied that old Jim Bunn had been
with ine for thirty years and might be
n banked upon so long as be lasted,
i wlilrh rnuldn't h*? vpi-v Inner, nnnr fel
c- low, since his health was so bad. He
n then asked mo a similar question in
a regard to every other person holding
a position of any consequence in the
ie company, even Including his own faV'
ther, though of course it was not a
query in this case, but a naive and boy'c
ish expression of confidence. 1 an,e
swered soberly for them all that they
were good men and true and even enlt
tercd Into some explanation of my
16 method of judging men.
Donald seemed rather discouraged
?" than cheered.
"It must be something else," said he.
"You have a feeling that all's not
right here," said I. "is that why you
m came home so suddenly?"
ro "Yes, sir," be replied, and then, with
D* hesitation: "Do you believe there's
anything queer about me? I've nlcr
ways had an impression that you
,r" thought I wasn't quite?quite right
I? There have been some stories about
#
\ * "Both your parorrts," said I, "pos
hesscd.a power which I once thought
myself competent1 to dctine and ex\
plain, but 1 have ^rown more modest."
I '* "Onqe possessed It?" Jhe echoed, with
what 1 might cafl* joyful animation.
r "Then it's something a person can get
> rid of, outgrow? Vou don't always
i have to have it?"
1 "I think you lenow more about the
i subject than I do," was my answer,
? "and if'you don't nov you will some
day."
1 "I'd JJJte to have you tell me about
my fatner and mother and the things
tharxhey did," said he, "but I mustn't
ask you, because I tried to get it out
of them long ago, and they didn't want
me to know." * I
I applauded this view, end so we
spoke of other subjects as we walked
home together.
CHAPT&l VI.
XTOTKBT OF THE ^XPECTED ROBBER
(CONTINUiJ)).
ABOUT 5 o'clock in the following
afternoon Donald came to
me as I sat alone in my workroom
at the office.
"Uncle John," said he, "I have decided
to make a stnrtllug and terrible
fool of myself once and for all and
ivrer mltli " * ""
?, i uu, you ii rorglve
me, won't you? I wish you'd give
me permission to do any Idiotic thinw
that comes Into my mind, it's better
than getting drunk, ns some fellows at
college do, and running around with
all kinds of people, but their parents
forgive them."
I told him that it would indeed be a
startling nnd terrible thing which could
make hhn any less my boy than he had
always been.
"Then It's all settled," shtd he, "and
here goes!"
He strode up to a safe that was In
the room, a small 'safe compared to
those In the outer office, yet of a new
style and very strong.
"In that safe," said he, "Here are
two packages of money. Thty are in
brown paper, with rubber bandi around
them. One of them is not |uite so
thick os a pack of cards, and tie other
is thicker than two packs. Tie larger
one Is on top."
"The larger one Is on top?" 1 repeated.
"How do you know that?*
"I know it, uncle," he replied. "That's
all I can say."
"It is Important In such mpttors as
this," said I, "to distinguish between
the knowledge that can come from
of nature. It is the latter class which
Is deepest down in this realm of mystery.
Now, I know that there are two
such packages as you describe in that
safe, but If you know which of them is
on top you must have got your information
direct, without the interposition
of another mind, for only one human
being besides yourself ever knew,
and he has forgotten. In fact, I'm not
sure that 1 could have told you the
next instant after I bad put them there.
I ilon'l liellev<? thnt inv miml tnnl- nnv
| cognizance of the relative position."
"Let's Lave a look at tliein," said he
eagerly. "If I should be wrong"?
He did not finish the sentence, but 1
could see that he felt the invariable Joy
of the true psychic in any suggestion or
prospect of failure. Meanwhile I was
opening the safe. It contained nothing
except a few documents of mine
and the money. We had intended to
use it for some books of the Tunbridge
branch, a little Independent railroad
which connects our town with the
trunk line, but an unexpected and
somewhat mysterious opposition had
arisen among the executive officers of
this insigniticant corporation, and so
the headquarters remained at the Junction.
In the forthcoming annual meeting
this would all be rectified, as we
controlled a majority of the stock.
I swung open the outer doors and
then unlocked the inner ones and my
private drawer, in which lay the packages.
the larger of them on top. I raised
them with my finger sufficiently for
Donald to see and then dropped them
buck. He nodded many times in a
slow and rather solemn fnshion.
"Does anybody else know they're
there?" he asked.
jour miner, saiu i, auuing, wun a
smile: "But be didn't know bow tbey
lay or even that tbey were in my private
drawer. He bad the combination
of the safe, but I have all the keys of
the drawers and of the inner doors.'!.
"The larger package," said Donald
in a monotonous tone, as if be were repeating
a lesson, "contains $32,000; the
smaller contains $8,000. The bills are
of many denominations. I don't know
why."
"The money came from several
sources," said I. "It is to be used In
payment for part of what is known as
the Hackett interest. Mr. Huckett was
my partner, who died many years ago.
He left a considerable part of bis Interest
to an aunt, whose children have
since inherited it. It Is her oldest son
whom we Are going to buy out. Of
course, we can pay him by check, but
for certain reasons we wanted to have
a good supply of legal tender on hand."
"That's Mr. William Hackett, isn't
it?" asked Donald. "I remember ceeIng
him here last winter when I was at
home. He's the man with the red face,
red whisker*, red hair?everything red,
WE iLE
(TO
OUR resot rces aro not fab
'on earth, nor <lo we d
BUT we are here among tl
ample means for all
enough to take care o
WE COME, backud up by a good r
made irreproachable
WE ARE here to stay and we s<
accommodation consii
Interest Paid on
Herchants and Plan
even nis nectuie, as 1 recall him."
"That's the man," said I.
"Well, uncle," he returned, "I hope
Mr. .Uackctt may get the money, If
that's your intention, but there's another
uiati after it."
1 perceived that we had got down to
the root of the matter.
"Another man?" I queried.
"There Is a pale, hard featured man,
with prominent ears and a brutal look
altont the mouth." said the hoy. "lie
has lips that are as stiff and li: rd as
Iron. His chin has a little ?u? >t -a
with a <iuo?-~ J.-..ipie that looks like a
atuii nolo. The left side of his mouth
is lower than the right, lie is coming
here for this money. lie is a! out f?
feet 0 inches tall and of medium
weight, :i trifle thin perhaps, i can't
say bow ohl he is, hut his hair i., grizzled,
though I wouldn't wish to speak
definitely about that, for I never saw
hiin with his hat oil'."
"You've seen him;" i exclaimed.
Donald smiled at me. and, extending
bis hand, ho lapped upon the drawer
of the safe. I understood immediately
that ho had net seen the individual in
the ordinary way of mortal vision.
"You think that he is coming lu re for
this money'/" said I.
"Uncle, I know it," replied Donald.
"I know that lie intends to get this
money and that he feels perfectly sure
about it. and, the wont of it is, that
I keep having the Impression of ids
getting it unless something v?ry unusual,
something quite out of the ojt
dinary, happens to prevent. J dotrx
Bceni to have any eonfi</ene< in ^ie
strength of the safe or in our watchman,
and I don't know whether it
would do any good to take the money I
and put it somewhere else." I
"^'lUpt ^Uou }vant us to do?" 1 ask-1
best," ho replied, "would be to have
this matter a secret between you and
me. Can't we do that, Uncle John?
Don't tell my father or mother or anybody.
Just let me wander down here
every evening and sleep on that couch.
Nobody need know, and if nothing happens
you won't laugli at me."
1 answered that I could not allow
him to take the risk, and I hold to this
opinion although he protested that
there was no ground for alarm.
"This man wouldn't make a luncheon
for me, uncle," said he, squaring his
broad shoulders. "I'd be positively
ashamed to lay a hand upon him in
violence. Besides, I'll bring down my
6liotgun if you'd feel any safer."
We discussed the matter for n few
minutes, with the result that I telephoued
to New York for a detective
whom I have occasionally consulted,
lie Is at the head of one of the best
private bureaus and prides himself
upon a personal acquaintance with every
criruinnl of consequence In the
country.
That evening after dinner Donald
and I went out for a walk, and in a
secluded place which had been designated
in advance we met Mr. Graves
Iteedy, the detective. When the case
was unfolded to this astute and experienced
man, he confessed that he noted
in It some slight flavor of the unusual.
"I ain't exactly accustomed to having
descriptions come in this way,"
said he, "but I'll tell you one thing
right off the griddle?I know the man.
I ain't seen him in some time and
thought he was out of business. It
was said that he'd gone to Australia,
and then I was told that he was dead.
But. dead or alive, David Creel, alias
Williams, alias Carney, is the man."
"You recognize him?" said I.
lie spread out his hands as one why
dismisses a matter that is all settled.
"Perfect," said lie. "There's only
one Scotch Davy?that's his nickname.
He's a sufe blower, and a good one.
He must be sixty years old by this
time."
"He didn't look it," s^id Donald.
"He's a well preserved man," rejoined
the detective, "or was the last
time I saw him. He's always lived
right; never dissipated or had any bad
habits. He was a good man in hia
way and kind to his family. Did you
notice how he was dressed?"
"A sort of dark sack suit, as I remember,"
replied Donald.
"Kind of a reddish brown?"
"Yes, with a faint red stripe."
"You mean whut tlicy call an invisi
ble check," said the detective?"strlpei
up and down and cross ways?"
"Precisely."
Reedy rubbed his head,
i "That's the suit he was wearing nlm
.. V V MM. JL AJXXXVa
- u
JE XIV IT
STAY.)
ulous, we haven't the largest bank
lo all the business of the country,
le good people of the county with
reasonable demands, with capital
f all your wants.
ecord, that began years ago; a record
by fair business methods,
olicit your patronage, offering every
stent with good banking.
Time Deposits.
iters National Bank.
years ugo when 1 saw him last,''
he. "Can't have it yet. Be worn out
before this time. By gee! It begins
to look as if he was dead."
He laughed softly and then became
serious.
"My advice to you, Mr. Harrington,'*
said he, "is just this: Leave the whole
business to me. If there's anything In
this, we'll nip the man right here. If
there isn't anything in it, you don't
want a word said. Am I right?"
I assented, but ventured to inquire
Yriiat ntrp.i he Intended to take.
"I'll hung around," said he. "If
Scotch Davy l? polug to do this Job,
he's been in town to look the ground
over. If he was going to do it tonight,
he'd come gently walking in from one
of the neighboring towns about 10
o'clock or so and lay around behind a
fence till it ? *1 ? A
- .. .?o unit; 10 operate. Thafa
his way on a job like this. I know
him. I'll bet a hat that I can go lay
down in a place where Davy will fall
over me if he's our man. I know hlrp
as well as that."
"Where would it be?" I inquired witb
interest, for I like these men of fine
instinctive perception who can foresee
the acts of their natural enemies.
"There's a path comes up across lots
from the railroad station," he replied.
"It splits in a field, and one half of it
runs up to your otilce, as you
while the other goes toj^tb because
at. the Junction '~cver go?f
Davy. wW* nobody
night." distinct probability.
It struck me as a thought that
L asked *' ?' ?AV Creel".
tUere was any c^ncc ^ he re.
..operating" hnmcdlatc ^^ ^ d
plied that he 8?w no there." ***
"If he knows the stu Qtber x
.-touiuhl's as good ns^ ^ BQ thttt
if any message comes from me you
won't have to stop to dress. Maybe
I'll get him on his lirst round. With a
fellow like that there's no use of waiting
till he actually breaks In. Considering
his record, we can send him up
anyhow, whether ho does anything or
not. The judge'll know that Scotch
Davy wasn't out here for the scenery.
So you can't tell when you may hear
from me."
Donald suggested that we might get
iuto the office secretly and wait there
without a light. It would be handier
than going to the house. This waa
pronounced too risky by Reedy. We
might frighten Mr. Creel away. It
would be easy, however, to get into
the main factory building and wait la
a certain little room in the end nearest
the office. We might stay there aa
late as would be possible without exciting
alarm at the house and then go
home.
This plan was adopted, and we effected
an entrance into the factory
building without the knowledge of my
wjitcliin.ni. 21 detail tinnn which 11(H>(1*
Insisted. Wliile this project was in
process of execution the detective secured
n private word with me.
"This ain't any trance," said he, referring
to Donald's disclosure. "If It
was, I'd say, 'Nothing doing!' I don't
believe In that sort of thing. But your
young friend's got some kind of a dead
straight tip. He knows what he's talking
about. He don't know as much aa
he pretends to. Take that business
about the suit of clothes as an example.
He merely followed my lead. But
what he does know for certain is tha%
somebody's after that money, and
wants to make sure that they don't ge%/
It. And that description is no dreair
You can gamble on that."
[TO nE CONTINUED.]
SwenrInic Spoil* Homo.
The horse does not like a nervous,
fidgety, fussy or Irritable man. He la
too nervous and Irritable himself, saya
Country Life In America.
"Why Is it," one teamster was heard
to ask another, "that Tliin's horses are
always cnunt? Phtn foods won ? ?Vo? ?
was the reply, "but he's like a wasp
n round a horse."
i A well known owner of race horses,
not at all a sentimental person, recently
made an order forbidding his employees
to talk in loud tones or to swear
In the stable. "1 have never yet seen
a good mannered horse," he says, "that
was being sworn at all the time. It
hurts the feelings of a sensitive horse,
i and I'll keep my word good to discharge
any man in my employ '"If I
catch him swearing within the hearing
of any horse in this stable."
V" . - *
}1,