Evening Star Newspaper, August 7, 1897, Page 18

18 THE EVENING STAR. SATURDAY, AUGUST 7, 1897—24\ PAGES “SHREWSBURY” BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN. Copyright, 1807, by Stanley J. Weyman, Written for The Evening Star. Chapter XX—Continued From Last Saturday's Star. The clock had gone midnight when, after parting from Mary at the door of the house, I groped my way upstairs to my room, and throwing off my clothes, lay down, not to sleep, but to revolve endlessly and futilely the plans we had made and the risks we ran and the thousand issues that might come of either. Cogitation brought me no nearer to a knowledge of the event, but only heated my brain and inereased my impatience; the latter to such a degree that with the first light I was up and moving, end had my trunk packed; nor did I fail to note the strange and almost éncredible turn which now led me to look for support in my flight to the very person whose ominous entrance twenty-four hours earlier had forced me to lay aside the thought. Long before tt could by any chance be necessary, 1 opened my door and softly carrying out my box, placed it in a dark corner on the landing. After this a great interval elapsed, during which I conjured up a hundred mischances. At length I beard some one afoot opposite, and then the stumbling treaG of a porter carrying goods down the stairs. About 11 I ven- tured to peep out and learned with satis- faction that the trunk had vanished. It only remained, therefore, for me to do the same. Bestowing a last look on the little attic which had been my home so ivng, and until lately no unhappy home, I took up my hat and cloak, and having made sure for the fiftieth time that } had my small stock of morey hidden in my clothes, i opened the door, and stealing out, stood a minute to listen before I descended. I heard nothing to alarm me, yet @ ond later shrieked in affright and al- : sank down under the sudden grip of hand on my shoulder. The nand was Ferguson's, who, istening, doubtless, at my chamber door, hed heard me move toward it, and flattened himself against the wall beside it; and so, being in the dark corner furthest from the staircase, had eluded my notice. He chuckled vastly~ at his own cunning and the fright he had given me, and, rocking me to and fro, asked me grimly what I had done with my fine clothes and my wig. ‘Ay, snd that is not all,” he continued. “I shall want to know ‘a little more about that matter, my friend. Ard mind you, Mr. Price, the truth. The truth or I will wring this tender ear of yours from your head. For the present, however, that mat- ter may wait. I shall have it when I want it. Now I haye other work for you. Come into my roonf.”” “I am going to the tavern,” I said, des- mo: perately. And I hung back. “Afterward, Mr. Ferguson—" “Oh, to the tavern,” he answered, mim- nd for what?” I faltered. He burst into a volley of oaths, and seiz- ing me again by the shoulder, ran me into his room. “Your dinner, indeed, you dirty, low-born peddler,” he cried in a fury. “Who are you to dine at taverns when the King’s business wants you? Stand you there and Hsten to me, for by the God abeve me, you shall never take meat or drink again. Do you see this, you craven?” and he plucked out bis’ horrible horse pis- tol and flourished the muzzle in my face. “Mark it, and remember that I am Fergu- son, the famous Ferguson, Ferguson the plotter, and no little person to be thwarted. And now listen to me.” I could have wept with rage and despaiz, knowing that with every moment this wretch kept me my chance of fulfilling the ay baggage being already dispatched, the girl and I might be ruined. To the pistol, how- ever, and his scowling, truculent, blotched fece—that, lacking the wig, which hung cn a chair beside him, was one degree more ugly than its went—there was no answer to be made, and I said sullenly that I would listen. “You had better,” he answered. “Mark you, there is a gentleman coming to see me, and to his coming and to what he to me I will have a witness. You fol- me?” le 's,"" I said, miserably, looking round, but in vain, for a way of escape. “And you are the witness. You shall go into that room, mark you, and you shall be as mute as a mouse! I put this littie cupboard open, ‘the back is thin and there is a crack in it; set your eye to that, and you will see him. And look you, listen to every werd, and note it; and keep still— keep still, or it will be the worse for you, Mr Price” “Very well,” I said, obediently, hope springing up, as I thought I saw a way of escape. “And what time must I be here?” “You are here, and you will stay here,” he answered, dashing to the ground the searce-born plan. “Why, man, he may come any minute.” “Still, if I could go out for—for two min- utes,” I persisted, “I should be easier.” “Go out! Go out!” he cried, interrupting me, in a fury. “And dinners? And tav- erns? And you would be easier? D’ye krow, Mr. Price, I have my doubts about you! Ay. I have!” he continued, leering at me with his cunning eyes, and now thr ing his face close to mine, now drawing it back again. “Are you for selling us, I won- der. Mind you, if that is your thought, an play at that game, and I have writing of yours. Ay, I have writing of ours, Mr. Price, and for twopence I would send it where it will hang you. So be care- ful. Be careful or—give me that coat.” Wishing that I had the courage to strike him in the back, praying that the next might choke him, hating him dumb hatred, the blacker for its and for the menial services he me do him, I gave him the long- plum-colored coat to which he pointed, and saw him clothe his lank, un- ga'nly figure in it, and top ail with his freshly curled wig. He bade me tie his peints and fasten on his sword; and this being done to his liking—and he was not very easy to please—he pulled down his ruffles and walked to and fro, preening him- self and looking a hundred times more ugiy and loathsome for the finery, with which, for the first time, I saw him be- dizened Preparations so unvsval, by awakening my curiosity as to the visitor in whose hon- er they were made, diverted me a little from my own troubles, to which I had done no more than return when a knock came Such Was the Man. at the outer door. Ferguson, in a hot flush of exultation that went far to show that he bad entertained doubts as to the visitor's coming, thrust me hastily into the next tTcom, a mere closet, ill-lighted by one small window, and bare, save for a bed frame. Here he placed me beside the crack he had mentioned, and whispering in my ear the mcst fearful threats and objurgations in ceze I moved or otherwise proved false to him, he cast a last look rovnd to assure himself that all was right, and then went back into his own ay t, ‘where, through my Judas hole, 1 saw him pause. The girl’s departure with the luggage of the pair had left the room but meagerly furnisned. Whether this and the effect it might have on his visitor's mind struck him thus late, or he began at the last mo- ment to doubt the prudence of what he was about, he stood awhile in the middle of the floor gnawing his nails and listening or perhaps thinking. The drift of his re- flections, however, was soon made clear, for on the visitor’s impatiently repeating his summons, he moved stealthily to one of the windows—which being set, in the mode of garret windows, deep’ in the slope of the reof, gave little light—and by piling his cloak in a heap on the sill, contrived to obscure some of that little. This done, and crying softly,“Coming, coming,” he, hasten- ed to the door and opened it, bowing and scraping with every appearance of respect. The ran who had knocked and who wal ed in with an .mpatient step, as if the wait- ing had been little to his taste, was tall and slight. For the rest a cloak and hat flapped low over -his face hid both features and ccmplexion. I noticed that Ferguson bow- ed again and humbly, but did not address him, and that the gentleman also kept silence until he had seen the door secured behind him. Then, and as his host, with seeming clumsiness, brushed past him and sc secured a position with his back to the light. he asked sharply, “Where is he?” The plotter leaned his hands on the back “have a very good mind to take you at your word and let you go to do it. For when your officers arrived here they would not find me, while your-grace would go hence to fall into as pretty @ trap as was ever laid for a man.” % “And doubtless of your laying!” my lord %ritd, with a gesture of contempt. “On the contrary, until I saw your grace I knew of the trap, indeed, but not for whom ft was intended. Since I have seen you, however—and how greatly you have improved since '88, when we last met”— Ferguson added, impertinently, ‘my eyes are opened, and I feel a very sincere pity for _your lordship.” pee “Iam obliged to you for your warning, the duke answered, dryly, “‘ond will en- deavor to teke care of myself. If that be all, therefore, thai you have to say to me— and I assume that the letter in Lord Mid- dleton’s name was no more than a ruse— I will say good day.” not all, nor a part,” “Nay, but that Ferguson revlied. “I have a bargain to propose, and information"—he added, sul- lenly and with lowered eyes, “‘to give.” “Ha! As usual,” my lord answered, shrugging his shoulders and speaking with the most cutting zcern. “But permit me to say that you have made a mistake, Mr. ‘Ferguson, in sending for me. As you should know by this time, being versed in these affairs, I leave such bargains to underlings.” “Nevertheless, to this bargain you must be a party,” the other answered violently, “Nay, my lord, but I can make: you a FERGUSON BOWED HUMBLY. of a chair and paused an instant before he answered. When he did he spoke with less assurarce than I had ever heard him speak before, and even stammered a little. “Your grace.” he said, “has come to see a person -w’o wrote to you? From this house?” have. Where is he?” “Here.” “Here? But Where, man, where?’ the newcomer replied, looking quickly around. Still Ferguson did not move. “My lord | duke, you came here, in a word—to see Lerd Middleton?” he said. It was easy to see that the duke’s gorge Tose at the other’s manner, no less than at this naming of names. But with an effort he swallowed his chagrin. “If you know that you know all,” he answered, with composure. “So without more take me to him. But I may as well say, sir, since you seem to be in his confidence—" “It was my hand wrote the letter.” “Ha! Was it so? Then you should know, sir, that a madder and more foolish thing was never done! If my Lord Middleton,” he continued celdly, his tone inclined to sarcasm rather than to feeling, “desired to ruin his best friend, and the one most able to save him in a certain event, if he meant to requite, sir, one who has already suffer- ed more than was reasonable in his service, by consigning him to destruction, he did well. Otherwise he was mad. Mad, sir, or worse, to send such a letter to a place where he must have known of his own knowledge that nine letters out of ten are opened by others’ hands!” “Your grace is right," Ferguson answered dryly, and in his natural voice, at the sound of which, either becavse of its native harshness or because it touched some chord in his memory, my lord started. “But the fact is,” the plotter continued hardily, and with a smack of impertinence in his tone, “my Lord Middleton, so far as I know, is still with the king at St. Germains.”” “At St. Germains?” thé duke cried. “With the king?” “Yes, and to be candid,” the other an- swered, “I was not aware, my lord, that you had sent him a safe conduct.” “You villain!” the duke cried, and stepped forward, his rage excited as much by the man’s manner a® by the trick which had been played him. “How dared you say, then, that he was here? Answer, fellow, or it will be the worse for yo “I said only, your grace,” Ferguson an- swered, retreating a step, “that ihe writer of the letter was here.” For a moment, my lord, utterly dum- founded by this, stood looking at him. “And you are he?” he said at last, with chilling scorn, “and the author of this— plot!” “And of many plots besides," my master answered, jauntily. And then, “My lord, do you not know me yet?” he cried. “Not I! Stand out, sir, and let me see your face. Then, perhaps, if we have met before—” “Oh, we have met before!” was the quick arswer. “And I am not ashamed of my face. It has beea known in its time. But fair play fs a jewel, my lord. It 1s eight years since I saw your grace last, and I bave a fancy to learn if you are changed. Will you oblige me? If you would see my face, show me yours!” With a gesture between contempt and im- patience the duke removed ‘his nat, which at his entrance he had merely touched; and hastily thrusting back the cloak from his neck, confronted his opponent. Chapter XXI. It cannot at this time of day be needful for me to describe in detail the comeliness and nobility of those features which the action disclosed, since they are well re- membered by many still living, as they are faithfully preserved for posterity—yet lacking some of the glow and passion which then animated them—on the canvas of Sir Peter Lely, which hangs in the Charter- house. The Duke of Shrewsbury—to set party. I have only to tell you a thing I know, and whether you will or no, for your own safety, you must do what I “For my own safety, Mr. Ferguson, I am not in the habit of doing anything I would not do for other reasons,” the duke an- Swered, coldly. ‘For tho rest, if you have anything to tell me that concerns the king's service—” c “Which king’s?” the plotter cried, with a sneer. “I acknowledge but one—then, I say, I will hear it. But I will neither do nor promise anything in return.” “You talk finely,” Ferguson cried. “But you cannot deny that before this I have told things that were worth knowing.” “That were worth men’s lives,” my lord answered, speaking in a low, stern voice, and looking at him witt a loathing beyond words. “Yes, Mr. Ferguson, I acknow- ledge that. That were worth men’s lives. And it reminds me that you are growing old and have blood on your hands; you only and God knows how much. But some I know; the proof of it lies in my office. If you will take my advice, there- fore, you will think rather of quitting the world and making your peace with heaven —it by any means it can be done—than of digging pits for better men than yourself. Man,” he continued, looking fixedly at him, “do you ever think of Ayloffe and Sidney? And Russell? And Monmouth? And Cor- nish? Of the men you have egged on to death and the men you have sold! God forgive you! Gcd forgive you, for men never will.” I should fail, and lamentably, were I to try to describe elther the stern feeling with which my lord uttered this solemn address—the more solemn as it came from a young man to en old one—or the horrid passion, born of rage, fear, and remorse commingled, with which the wretched in- triguer received it. Wnen my lord had ceased to speak he broke into the most fearful imprecaticns, calling down ven- geance not only on others for wrongs done to him, but on his own head if he had ever done aught but what was right; and this rant he so sprinkled with texts of Scrip- ture and scraps of fhe old Convenanter’s language, that for profanity and blasphemy I never heard the like. The duke, after watcbing this exhibition for a while, with eyes of pity and horror, ended by setting on his hat and turning to the door. This sufficed, as nothing else would have, to bring the conspirator to his censes. With @ hideous chuckle, which brought his tirade to a fitting conclusion, “Not so fast, my lord! Not so fast,” he cried. “The key is In my pocket. I have something to say before you go. “In God’s name, say it, then,” the duke rt. c his face sick with disgust. “I will,” Ferguson answered hoarsely, Teaning on the tavle which stood between them and thrusting forward his chin, still suffused with rage. “And see you how I will confound you. The Duke of Berwick is in England, my lord. The Duke of Berwick is in London. And, what is morse, my lord, he lies tonight at Dr. Licyd’s in Hogsden Gardens. So take that information to yourself, my lord secre- tary, and make what you can of it, not for- getting the king’s interest. Ha! ha! I have you tight there, I think!” His triumph, extreme and offensive as it was, was justified by the consternation—1 can call it by no other name—which dark- ened the duke’s countenance, as he lis- tened, and held him a moment, speechless and motionless, glaring at the other. lest, “Az he crie “I did! At 4 you sent to me to tell me this?” I did! And there is nod other living man would have thought of it or done it. And why? Because there is no man who can play my cards but myself.” : SS ges devil my lord cried, and was si- jen Seeing that I knew little more on the subject than that the Duke of Berwick was King James’ natural son and favorite, I concealment aside—was then in his thirty- sixth year, in the prime and loom of inan- hood, of a fair complexion and regular features, over which the habitude of high rank and the possession of unrivaled parts threw a cast of reserve and stateliness not unbecoming. As he was by nature so sen- sitive that on this side alone his enemies found him vulnerable, so nis face in re- pose, if it had any fault at all, had that of bordering on the womanish, the lines of his mouth following those of the most beautiful models of antiquity. But this blemish—if that which bore witness to the most affectionate disposition in the world could be called by that name—was little marked in public life, the awe which eyes alike firm and penetrating inspired in the vulgar rendering most people blind to it. To sum up, though indolent, he was of’ such a temper that the greatest dared take no liberty with him, and though proud, he gave themeanest his rignts and a place. Such was the man who now confrented Perguson, and with a stern sparkle in his eye, bade the wretched schemer stund out. ‘That the latter from the first had intended to do so and to declare himself was as certain as that now the time had come he hesitated, awed by the mere power of worth, as I have heard that wicked men calling up spirits from the deep have stood affrighted before the very beings they have conjured up. Yet his hesitation was but for a moment, whien, rallying the native audacity of a temperament which rejolced.in taése intrigues ahd de- nouements, he Stepped jaunt! forward, agd, assuming euch a parody of’dignity as likened his clumsy figure and sneaking face to nothing so much 24 an pe deck out in man’s clothes, he allowed the light to fall on his features.” * ‘The duke even 3 T stood, behind ree Pa agree fhe heard him catch his “Y “Mr. at once, I do not bear his majesty’s com- mission’ in vain and my first proceeding oa leaving this house will be to sign a war- and direct the was entirely at a loss to comprehend either the duke's chagrin or Ferguson's very evi- dent triumph. The latter's first words, however, went far toward explaining his and if they did ‘not perfectly clear up my lord’s position—fully to enter into which required a nobility of sentiment jubilation, and a nicety of honor on a par with his own—they at least enabled me to guess where the shoe pinched. si “D'ye take me now, my lord?” the plotter cried with a savage grimace. “That con- cerns the king’s service, I think, and yet I dare you to make use of it. Ay, my lord secretary, I dare you to make use of it!” he repeated, his unwholesome face deep red with excitement. “For why? You know there ‘will be a day of reckoning presently— end sooner, mayhap, than some think. You know that. Sooner or later it wills come— 4t will come, and then “Touch not mine anointed!’ Or, rather, touch but a hair of his Jamie’s head, and his majesty ’ll no forgive! He'll no forgive! There will be merey for my Lord Devonshire, and my lord admiral, aye, and for that incarnate Mar and devil, John Churchill! Aye, even for him, for he has made all safe both sides. and so have the others. But do you touch the king’s blood, though it be bast you send tonight to the bishop's and take him, and go on to what PebEE i 4 £ o35 i £ Mi E i ay lord turned his eyes on prison and death. Me, if you can, to ruin and s) why? Why, man? What do you gain?” “What dol gain? What shall I gain, you mean,” Fy answered, smiling cun- ningly. “Only your grace’s signature to a scrap of pa: ive me that and I am mum, and pe Berwick for you will be @ penny the worse.” i: mee eye cried my lord, surprised, ag “Oh, no,. not money,” said the plotter, coolly. “And yet—it may be money's worth to me over thera” es “, Chapter XXII. “It is thig. way, my lord,” he continued, after a pause.” “Lord Middleton said some things over thete in your grace’s name— that would’ be four years back; but you never acted,on them, though it was whis- pered you paid dearly for them here. In theNnterval, it hgs been the aim of a good many to get something more definite from your grace; the rather as you stand almost alone, the main part of the court, und more than you know of, having made their peace. But their efforts failed because they went about it in the wrong way. Now, I, Rob- ert Ferguson,” he continued, patting him- self on the chest, and bowing with gro- tesque conceit, “have gone about it in the right way, and I shall not fail. You must either arrest the Duke of Berwick, my lord, or let go. That is clear. If you do the former, you will offend beyond pardon, and your head will fall at the restoration, who- ever goes clear. On the other hand, if you let the duke escape and it comes to the Prince of Orange's ears that you knew of his presence, you will be ruined with your present party. The only course left to you, therefore, is to let him go, but to purchase my silence—that it may not reach the prince's ears—by signing a few words cn a paper, which shall be sealed here and opened only by his majesty in his closet. Now, my lord, what do you say?’ he add- ed, with manifest exultation. ‘“‘What do you say to that offer?” “That you are a fool as well as a knave!’’ was the duke’s unexpected reply. He had recovered his equanimity, and took a pinch of snuff as he spoke. és The plotter's eyes sparkled. “‘Why,” he cried with an oath, “and is that language for a gentleman?” “A gentleman? Faugh!” cried my lord. “And why? Because you suppose your word to be of value. Whereas you should know that were you to go to Kensington and tell the king that you had informed me of this or that or the other, and I de- nied it, you would go to Newgate for cer- tain, and to the pillory perhaps--but I should be not a penny the worse. Your word, forsooth God, man, you are erazed! “Aye, but if I have had you followed here?” the other answered, savagely. “If I can produce three witnesses to prove you were with me today, and by stealth! And by stealth, my lord, what then?” “Why, then thi the duke answered with composure. ‘And it is my answer. I shall go hence to the king and tell him all; and on your information, Mr. Ferguson, the Duke of Berwick will be arrested. Whatever my fate or his after that, I shall at least have done my duty and kept my oath as a privy councillor, and the rest I leave to God. But for you,” he continued, slowly and with solemnity, “who, to gain a hold on me, have betrayed the son of your king, your fate be on your own head. The plotter, who, I think, had expected any answer but this, and, it may be, had never considered his own position should the duke stand firm, roared out a furious “You lie” And then, again, in a frenzy, as the consequences rose more clearly be- fore him, “You i: he cried, striking his hand on the table. ‘‘You will not do it! You will not dare to do it!” “Mr. Ferguson,” the duke answered, haughtily, “I do not suffer persons of your condition to: tell me what I dare or do not dare, or persons of any condition to give me theie.:Be good enough to open the door.” | “Sign the paper!” the conspirator hissed. His face, auno time sightly, was now dis- torted by fear and the rage of defeat, while the chair on.the;back of which he leaned his left hand, jerked this way, and that as if the palsy had him. “Sign the paper, will you? Or your bidod be on your own head!” ke cried. 2 The on with only answer was to point .o the door with his.cane. “Open it!” he said, his breath coming a little quickly, but his manner othefwisé unmoved. “Do you hear me?” ue od But either Ferguson's rage had so much the mastery,of him that he could no longer control himself, or he was desperate, sec- ing into what an abyss the other's firmness was pushing hini; or from the first he had determined on:this course:im the last resort. At any, rate, at.that, and, instead of com- plying, he fell back a step, and, with a dark face, drew a pistol from the pocket of bis long coat. “Sign!” he cried, his voice whistling in his throat, as he leveled the arm at my lord’s head.” “Sign, you Roman devil, or I'll spill your brains! Your time has come. Sign, or you don’t go out of this room alive, you papist spawn! Has the Lord's foot been put on the neck of his enemies that such as you should divide the Spoil?” : There was nothing to sign, for he had not produced the paper. But in the delirium of fear and excitement into which he had fal- len, he was unconscious of this, and of all else except that he was in danger of falling into the pit he had digged for another. His hand shoox so violently that every moment I expected the pistol to explode, with his will or without it; his fears no tess than his des- pair putting my lord in danger. What he who stood thus exposed to naked death thought in his heart while his existence hung on a shaking finger, I cannot say, nor if he prayed, for no man talked less of re- ligion, to be, as I trust he was, a believer; while the pride which supported him in that crisis was as powerful to close his lips after the event. ‘Put that down!” he said, and met the other's eyes without blanching, though I think he was a trifle paler than he been. a answered the madman, with’ an oath. “Put it down!” repeated the duke, and without doubt his courage by imposing a restraint on the other’s headiness post- pened, though it could not avert, the catas- trophe. Every second they stood thus con- fronting one another, Ferguson grinning and gibbering to him to sign, I looked to see the pistol explode and my lord fall lifeless. My knees shook under me; horrified at this murder to be committed under my eyes, scarce conscious what I did or would do, 1 fumbled for the handle of the door—which, luckily, was beside. me; and found it pre- cisely as the duke, with a twirl of his cane as swift as it was unexpected, knocked the pistol aside and sprang bodily on the vil- lain, striving to bear him down, for he had no time to draw. He was the younger man by twenty years and the more active, if nof the more power- ful, so that for an instant it seemed to me that the denger was over, but I counted without Ferguson, who, leaping back before the other could grapple with him, with a nimbleness beyond his years, put the table between them, and leveling the pistol afresh, with a snarl of rage, pulled the trigger. The flint snapped harmlessly. More than that I could not pear, and by heaven's mercy the movement had brought the wretch close to the door at which 1 stood, and which I had that moment open- ed. As he aimed the pistol a second time, and with a fresh execration, I flung my arms round him from behind and with my right hand jerked up the pistol, which ex- ploded, bringing down an avalanche of ter and filling the room with smoke and rimstone. g Adv interruption so sudden and timely must have been no less a surprise to the duke than to Ferguson. Nevertheless, the former, without thc loss of a moment, flung timself on his antagonist, and, seizing the pistol while I still clung to tiim behind, in a twinkling had him disarmed.. Yet, when this was done, so furious were the man’s struggles, and so inhuman the strength he displayed, even to biting and. foaming in a fury that could only be called iiacal, tht as much as we could now he. thi a, now e-had lelmuire to think, escape. “My. ‘and the Alord,”.I his clutches. And he has how he has ridden me!” “I see,” he said, nodding gravely. “Well, his riding days are over. Hark you, Mr. Ferguson,” he continued, turning to the prostrate man, who, groveling before us—I had taken the precaution of tying his hands with my garter—acknowledged his attention by a hollow moan, “I am no thief taker, and I shall not soil my hands with you. But within an hour the mes- sengers will be here, and if they find you, look to yourself, for I think in that case you will indubitably hang. In the mean- time I will take your pistol.” Then to me, "if you wish to OFFICIAL HOLIDAYS Assistants Are-Now Holding the Reins of Government. WHILE THE CHIEFS ARE OUT OF TOWN wa, 2 cried. “Wel owe you more than that,” he said kindly. “And I need you besides. Mr. Ferguson, I btd you farewell. You have Proved yourself a more foolish man than I thought you. A worse you could not. The best I can now wish you is that you may never see my face again.” How Uncle Sam's Employes Spend Their Vacations. FIELD WORK IN SUMMER Chapter XXIII. My lord, I found, had a coach, without arms or insignia, waiting for him at the great turnstile in Holborn, where if per- Written for The Evening Star. FFICIAL LIFE IN sons recognized him as he alighted he Washington is just would be taken to have business with the now in the lowest lawyers in Lincoln's Inn, or at my Lord Somers in the Fields. Following him to it on foot, I never saw a man walk in more deep or anxious thought. He took no heed of me, after bidding me by a gesture to at- tend him; but twice he stood in-doubt, and once he made as if he would return whence we had come, and once as if he would cross the Fields—I think to Powis house. In the end, however, he went on, and arriving at the coach, the door of which a footman in plain livery held open for him, he bade me by a sign to follow him into It. This I was not for doing, thinking it toe great an honor, but on him crying impatiently, ‘Man, how do you think I am to talk to you {if you ride outside?’ I hastened to enter in equal confusion and humility. Nevertheless some time elapsed, and we had traveled the length of Holborn before he spoke. Then rousing himself on a sud- den from his preoccupation, he looked at me. “Do you know a man called Barclay?” said he. “No, your grace,” I answered. ‘Sir George Barclay?” “Or Porter’ rr Charnock’ .. “No, your grace.” eg f said he, seeming to be disap- pointed, and for a time he looked out oF the window. Presently, however, he glanced at me again, and so closely that 1 dropped my eyes out of respect. “I have seen you somewhere before!” he said, at last. Surprised beyond measure that he remem- bered me, so many years had elapsed, I con- fessed with emotion that he had. “Where?” he asked, plainly. “I see many people. And I have not old Rowley’s mem- ory, my friend.” I told him. “Your grace may not re- member it,” I said, greatly moved, “but many years ago ut Abbot's Stanstead, at Cpt deceit Winston’s— = at?” he exclaimed, cutting me sh with a flicker of laughter in at eras And he looked me over. “Did I fiesh my maiden justice sword on you? Were you the lad who ran away?” “Yes, my lord—the lad whcse life you saved,” I answered. “Well, then, we are quits,” he had the kindness to answer, looking at me with serious kindness; and asked me how I had lived since those days. I told him, naming Mr. Timothy Brome and saying that he would give me a char- acter. The mention of the newswriter, however, had a different effect from that i expected; his grace conceiving a hasty idea that he also was concerr.ed with Ferguson and crying out under this impression that if such men were turning it was vain to fight against the stream. I hastened to dis- abuse him of the notion by explaining how I came to fall into Ferguson's haads. which he asked me what I had done for the plotter, and how he had employed me. “He would send me on errands,” I an- cbr eee to etch papers from the printers, and to carry messages.” 'To coffee houses?” “Often, your grac “Did he ever send you to Covent Gar- den?” he asked, looking fixedly at me. “Yes, your grace, to a gentleman with a white handkerchief hanging from his Docket.” “Ha!” he exclaimed, and with an or light in his face, he bade me tell him all I knew of that man. This giving me the cue, I detailed what I had seen and heard at the Seven Stars the evening before, the toast of the squeezing of the rotten orange, the hints which had escaped the drunken conspirator, and particularly his references to the hunting party and the date—Satur- day or Saturday week. Adding also what I had learned from the girl, but mention- ing for this no authority. To all my lord listened attentively, nodding from moment to moment, and at Yast: “Then Porter is not lying this time,” he said, drawing a deep breath. “I feared—but here we are. Follow me, my friend, and keep close to me.” Engrossed in my story, and the attention that was due to his rank and kindness, I paid no heed either to the way we had come or to our gradual passage from the smoke and babble of London to country air and stillness. A vague notion that we were still traveling the Oxford road was all I retained, and this was rudely shaken when, recalled to the present by his words, I looked out and discovered that the coach was bowling along an avenue of lofty trees, with park-like pastures siretching on either hand. I had no more than time to note so much, and that the horses were slackening their pace, before we rumbled under an archway and drew up in a spa- cious courtyard, shut in on four sides ly warm-looking red brick buildings, whereof that wing under which we had driven was surmounted by a quaintly shaped bell tur- ret. Ignorant where my lord lived, and little acquainted with the villages which He round London, I supposed that he had brought me to this house. The sight of'a couple of sentries, who walked with arms ported before a wide, low flight of steps, which led to the principal entrance from the courtyard, should have enlightened me, but a flock of pigeons that, disturbed by our entrance, were now settling down again and beginning to strut the gravel with the most absurd air of possession, caught my attention and diverted me from this mark of state. Nor did a knot of xer- vants, lounging silently under a portico or two or three sedans which I espied, wait- ing a little apart, go far to cetract from the general air of peace and quietude which prevailed in the place. Other observations I had no time to make, for my lord, mounting the step, bade me somewhat im- patiently to follow him. - I did so, across a spacious hall floored with shining wood laid in strange patterns. Here were three or four servants, who stood at attention, but did not approach, and his grace, passing them without no- tice, had reached the foot of a wide and handsome staircase before a person drees- ed plainly in black, and carrying a tall, slender wand, advanced, and, with a low bow, interposed himself. “Your grace’s pardon!” he said. “The ccuncil has broken up.” “How long?” “About half an hour.” + “Ah! And Lord Somers? Did he go back to town at once?” “Yes, your grace, immediately.” The duke, at that, asked a question which I,*standing back a little, out of respect— and being awed besides by the grandeur of the place and the silence—did not catch. ‘The arswer. kowever, “Only Lord Portland, your grace, and Mr. Sewell,” I heard, and likewise the duke’s “I'm going up,”” “You wilt permit me to announce -your grace?” the other, who seemed to be some- thing between a gentleman and a servant, answered quickly. “No,” my lord said. “I am in haste, ant a iin that Lego be my warranty. person goes me. “I hope your grace will enswer for it, then,” the man in black replied, respecz- fully, but with a little hestitation in his tone. "That you are not blamed, Nash?” the duke ‘with good nature. “Yes, yes, I And now, let us up.” (To be continued.) depths of its dullest season. Three-fourths of the functionaries upon whom the re- sponsibilities of gov- ernment usually rest have fled and scat- tered, as if by the four winds. The ma- chinery of state is revolving upon its resgrve cogs. The head of almost every department, bureau or division has left his role to his under- study. It is the heat of what has been appropriately termed “the acting season.” Nearly every letter sent out from the ex- ecutive departments is signed “acting sec- retary,” “acting director’ or “acting chief.” The process of government, how- ever, continues to grind along smoothly, thanks: to the present excellence of the departmental system. Authority of the official who acts for the time being has as great weight as that of the regular incum- bent. In all departments except one—that of Justice—the cabinet officer is succeeded in his absence by the ranking inferior, bearing the title “assistant secretary” or “assistant postmaster general,” as it is in the Post Office Department. The Attorney General is succeeded in his absence by the solicitor general, who, by the way, is the biggest bug in the executive departments inferior to the cabinet officers. The s0- licitor general gets $7,000 a year. After running through the assistant cabinet offi- cers, the order of descent of authority in cases of absence, as now, passes to the chief clerks of the various departments. Thus the chief clerk of the War Depart- ment may become acting secretary of war with authority paramount to that of the commanding general of the army. This brings us to the best point from which to appreciate the oft quoted fact that the chief executive is the only govern- ment offictal who can never lend the robes of office to a substitute, when he wishes to rest. While the President is sojourning, as he is now, the seat of government is in the saddle. Mr. McKiniey has taken it with him to Lake Champlain. There is no one whom he may deputize as “acting presi- dent” as long as he is able to exercise his duties himself. In case of the President's “fnability” to fill his office, however, Mr. Hobart would be permitted to act in his place until the disability be removed. Al- though supposed to be on his vacation, Mr. McKinley is keeping in close connection with the business continually piling up at the White House. He kas had a desk put in his room at the Hotel Champlain. While Secretary Porter is with the President, As- sistant Secretary Pruden is charge d’af- faires at the White House. Letters and telegrams are flying thick and fast between his office and the executive mansion pro tem. Of course, there are many communi- cations too important to be intrusted to the wires or to the mails. One of the ex- ecutive clerks will make frequent visits back and forth to bear these. While at Lake Champlain Mr. McKinley will take care lest he violate the Constitution by journeying too far up the lake and crossing the Canadian frontier. It was not far from here that General Arthur ran the risk of impeachment by venturing a few miles across the line in quest of better sport than nature offered below. A Pleasant Outing. Secretary of the Navy Long has better opportunities for combining summer duties with summer pleasures than any of his colleagues. On his dispatch boat Dolphin he and his daughter are cruising along the New England coast, now and then stopping at some naval station for inspection. This trip is the legitimate privilege of the in- cumbent of his office. His party will enjoy a prolonged sea voyage and plenty of ease and refreshment. Secretary of Agriculture Wilson will also combine duty with pleas- ure during his August vacation in the west, where he will study the resourses of sev- eral states for raising <avalry horses for foreign armies. Secretary of the Treasury Gage, the hardest worked man in the. cabi- net, has rented a summer residence at Chevy Chase, Md., within an hour’s ride from his department. All of the other cabi- ret officers will spend or are spending their vacations in the north. The diplomatic corps has scattered to all points“ of the compass. The majority diplomats prefer the Atlantic coast. ‘The British, Italian ard German ambassadors have sailed for Europe, the latter not to return. The diplomatic corps is part of the official suite of the President, but ite duties are not pressing during the summer. The British diplomats have their regular summer colony at Manchester-by-the-Sea. Two capacious cottages there are occupied by the new first secretary, Mr. Fox Adams, and the greater number of lesser diplo- mats connected with the embassy. Busi- ness is carried on as usual from this sum- mer headquarters. The most popular sum- mer colony for diplomats is Lenox, Mass- achusetts, where officials of the German embassy, Swedish, Belgicn and _ several other legations spent the warm months. Practically all members of Congress had fied from Washington within a week after adjournment. Two senators, Platt of Con- necticut and Hansbrough of North Da- kota, and one representative, McMillin of ‘Tennessee, will combine the recreations of a summer vacation with the bliss of a honeymoon. Over two hundred members of. Congress lived temporarily at hotels during the late extra session. Many of these would have houses had they anticipated remaining in the city until the middle of summer, and they would have saved money by so doing, granting even that their houses would have been shut from now on until the first of December. travel “dead head” by courtesy of the rail- road companies, but they are entitled to their government allowance regardless of this. Members who live far away are thus able to collect a comfortabl. About the Capitol. About the only activity which may now be observed at the Capitol is that occa- sioned by the moving of the Library of Congress. Employes of that branch of the government will spend their summer iug- ging heavy bocks. A very few members of congress take their private secretaries or clerks home with them during the mer and keep them busy. But a of congressional clerks, secretaries, Imittees, etc., have no earthly form from iH i i —_ S Some Nuisances. 3 ‘From the Philadelphia Call. - allowed $160 a month for clerical services, Salon ‘ expended as he sees fit. During the the private secretary is ‘The beok agent. — FS temporarily laid off and the ‘The corner aoe ‘bir family. — . Eek pny Rees ramee pus mast pact emacs The recreation, such as |. the take the place of the the of the - The Without love this world would be a would be a worthless commodity, and all the jewels in the world as valueless as aclod of earth. With- out it the human race would die—and be glad of it. Too few young women understand the basic princi- ple implanted in nature by the Creator, that inderlies love. Love is but the ligh' the east that leads to maternity. Love of hus- band is the stepping-stone to love of child. A childless woman is a sun that gives no light or warmth, a cloud that never showers the thirsty earth, a flower, beautiful, per- chance, but without perfume. There are thousands of women who lived well into middle-life without knowing the bliss of a first-born’s caress, but who are happy mothers to-day and heap blessings on Dr. Pierce's Favorite Prescription. Over 90,000 women have testified to the merits of this marvelous remedy, and many of them have permitted their experiences and photo- graphs to be printed in Dz. Pierce's Com- mon Sense Medical Adviser. The “ Favor- ite Prescription” quickens the life-giving organism of women. It makes a woman strong and healthy where she most needs vigor and vitality. It cures all weakness and disease of the feminine organs. It elimi nates the discomforts on the way to matern- ity and mal -s baby’s coming easy and nearly painless. Found at all medicine stores. “In four years,” writes Mrs. Minnie Smith, P. M., at Lowell, Lane Co., Ore., “I had miscarried twice. I took two bottles of Ibr. Pierce's Favorite Frescription and now have a healthy baby. I am stronger than in twelve years.” Free. — = one-cent — to cover mailing only, for a paper-covered copy of Dr. Pierce’s Common Sense Medical Ad- viser; cloth binding, 31 stamps. Address Dr. R. V. Pierce, Buffalo, N.Y. The “Ad- viser” contains 1008 large pages and over oo illustrations. It is a veritable medical library in one volume. coast. They live partly in camp alo’ shore and partly aboard the steamer Pat terson or the revenue cutter Bear. Em ployes of the survey are always anxious to make summer trips along the coast of temperate. Alaska, where the scenery is magnificent and the climate about as cold as it is here on mild winter days. The fish commission's steamer Albatross is also to coast in Alaskan waters, having on board a corps of scientists, who will study the salmon industries of our arctic pos- session. They will live on board all sum- mer, ‘and will have but little difficulty in keeping cool. In the Field. Six ethnologists of the bureau of ethnol- ogy will spend their summer among dif- ferent Indian tribes or ruins in Arizona, ‘w Mexico, New York state and Maine. Mrs. Stevenson, the government's only wo- man ethnologist, will “live Indian” while studying the Zuni ruins in Arizona and New Mexico. Before entering the field for the summer these ethnolegists® receive jump sum to cover their expenses. This sometimes amounts to as much as for one expedition. Practically all of the scientific fo of the geological survey is detailed for field duty during the summer. They camp in parties of about ten each, consisting generally of a geologist, his as- sistants, a topographer, cook, teamster and several laborers. The survey keeps on hand a large supply of tents and other camping equipage for these expeditions, which are made usually among the moun- tains of the west. While in camp employes of the survey are subject to strict regula- tions regarding expenditures for food,which must be limited to a prescribed ration, in- cluding altogether twenty-one items. Any- thing not included in this will not be paid for by the government. An odd regulation of the survey permits its field geologists to expend government money for tobacco for Indians, but forbids their purchasing the weed for their own personal purposes. Alaska will be the scene of the summer field work of two representatives of the Agricultural Department, who will visit various settlements and study the pre pects of raising vegetables and domesii- cated animals in the territory. Two tional Museum curators will sub: frigid climate of the arctic circ! torrid climate of Washington. Prof. Lucas will spend his summer in the seal islands and Prof. Schuchert will visit Greenland. A summer camping party sent out by the Agricultural Department into the west, under Prof. Merriam, chief of the biologi- cal survey, will travel about in an ‘open wagon, bearing a specimen case, tents and other necessary camping implements. They will drive through the wilds of the west during the day, shooting specimens of characteristic animal life, preserving them for stuffing and registering them on @ bio- logical chart. They will be armed with guns of needle calibers to hold shot of a powder-like fineness, which will not i figure specimens killed. Another summer camping party from the Department of Agriculture will be headed by Prof. Fer- now, who will work his way from Wiscon- sin west to the Pacific, pitching his tent in the thick forests of that locality, whose abundant arborage he will subject to scientific study. A Liberal Employer. The length of time allowed Uncle Sam's servants for vacations with pay is pre- scribed in the Revised Statutes. Certain details, however, are left to the discretion of the executive. For Instance, a recent order permitting government clerks to leave their desks at 3 o'clock Saturdays in summer had to be passed upon by the Pres- ident and cabinet. The law states that “all clerks and cther employes” in the civil scrvice of the executive departments are allowed thirty days’ vacation and thirty days’ sick leave each yeer, with pay, and in uncsual cases of particular merit, sixty days’ sick leave with pay. What employer would allow his clerks to remain absent one-fourth of the year, with pay? Army officers may spend thirty days a year away from their posts of duty, but this may be enjoyed not oftener than once in two years, when they may remain ab- sent sixty days altogether. Many prefer to take their vacations every three or four years, when they may stay away three or four morths at a time, iong enough to take an extensive trip abroad. The leaves of medical officers of the marine hospital serv- ice are regulated just as are those im the army. Officials of our diplomatic posis abroad are allcwed sixty days’ holiday each year, not ircluding time required for the voyage to and from this country, if they return home. Members of the legislative and judicial branches of the federal gov- ernment, of course, sult themselves as to the disposition of their time while their respective bodies are not in session. They are for the most part independent in this respect, even while they are assembled. After all, Uncle Sam is the most liberal of yers, #0 far as Vacations are gow Cause for Thanksgiving. From Herper's Bazar.