Evening Star Newspaper, August 21, 1897, Page 16

16 THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, AUGUST 21, 1897-24 “SHREWSBURY” eee BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN. (Copyright, 1897, b Written for The Evening re Continued From Last Saturday. That Smith discerned the chagrin wiich this enforced companionship caused— though not the ground of it—was as plain as That the fact gave him pleasure of no common kind. I bad no longer such a command of my features that I could trust myself to look at him; but I was cons: using some other sense, that he frequently looked at me, and always after these in- spections smiled like a man who finds something to his taste. And I hated him. How long, with these feelings, I could have borne to go with him, or what I should have done in the last resort had he continued the same tactics, remains un- proved, for at tne same corner half way down Long lane, where I had first espied him, he pansed. “I want to go in he he said coolly. “I need only detain you a moment, Mr. Taylor.” will wait for you," I muttered, tingling lover with a sudden hove. While he was inside I could run for it. “Very he sald. “This way.” ed that he suspected nothing, and s I had been wrong throughout; overjoyed, I went with. him to the Stanley J. Weygan.) and, rv of the house from which I had seen him emer; my intention being to be gone hot-foo instant back Was turned. T was three-storied, high, narrow and commonplace, one of“a row not long built and but inhabited. Ap- ly he was at home there, for, taking he opened the door, for me to ente I muttered. You can wait inside,” he an- swered. If I had been wise I should have turned there and then, in the open street. and, taking to my heels, have run for my life, and d for nothing. But, partly fool and partly craven, clinging to a hope w! s reely a belief, that when hi or into another room I might y unlatch the door and begone, I If be persuaded, and J entered. The i had done so he whipped out the » and, thrusting the door to with his shoulder. locked it on the inside. Then the man threw off all disguise. He turned with a laugh of triumph to where I od trembling in the haif-dark passage. ow.” he said, “we will have that letter, if you please, Mr. Taylor. I have a fancy to see what is in it.” “The letter!” I faltered. “Yes, the letter! “T have no letter,” I ss “Tut-tut, letter or no Do you think I could see breast ter, out with it! ‘ou touching your te make sure it safe, and not know what was in the wind! You are a p Mr. Taytor, and I doubt if you w of any use to me. But come, out with it Unless you want me to be rough with you. Out with whatever it is you have there, and no tricks i a way with him when he spoke in not He hi that ne, teeth, his ¢ loudly, but between his at the same time growing toward one another, that was worse than Ferguson's pistol, and I was alone with him in an empty house. Some who would e done what I did may blame me, but the main the world is sensible, and I shall forfeit no prudent man's esteem when I confess that, after one attempt at evasion n_he met by wrenching my coat open and thrusting me against the wall so vio- lentiy that my head spun again, I gave up the letter. arn you! I warn you!” I cried in a paroxysm of rage and grief. “It is for the Duke of Berwick, and if you open it—” “For the Duke of Berwick!” he answered, pausing and gazing at me with his finger on the seal. “Why, you fool, why did you not tell me that before? From whom? From that scum, Ferguson?” “From the Duke of Shrewsbury,” I erled, pa reckless by my ra 2" he cried in a voice of extra- y surprise. the Duke of Shrewsbury,” I re- thinking that he had not tnder- re or peated, stood me My ir’ he said, with a deep breath. have I caught the fox at last “You are moré likely to be caug! if I answered furiously. his words were a puzzle to but tone ef slow growing, almost ‘ncredu- s triumph told something. Taking very little heed of me and merely signing to me to follow him he sprang up the stairs snd epening a door led the way into a back ev me, lor room, bare and miserable, but lighted by the last yeliow glow of the western sky. It was possible to read here, and without a mcment’s hesitation he broke the seal of | the letter and tearing the packet open read the contents. That the perusal gave him immense sat- isfaction, his face which in the level light cast by the window seemed to gleam with unholy joy was witness, no less than his movements. Flourishing the letter in un- controllable excitement he twice strode the floor, muttering unformed sentences. Then he looked at the paper ag fell. “But it is not his staring at it in very plain dismay. then recovering himself afresh, “ ter.” he said, “it is his name, veriest foo! would have used another hand. Is it yours? {Bid you write it, blockhead?" "1 said. But now I think of it—thousand how came you by it? By this—eh7”’ he rapped out. “This letter? What d—d What have you to do with ewsbury, that he makes you cried. And 10 mat and the his brows on me, and I knew d never been in greater danger in my life. Yet something of wit came to me in this extremity. Comprehending that if I said I came from Kensington 1 =ht expect the worst. I lied to him, yet -d the truth where it suited me, he e came to Ferguson's,” I said. id bade him get that to the duke, dging was known, and warrants out. his hands together softly. “Is he in it as deep as ning! O, the cunning of And I to be going to all this trouble, on despair, at that! And—Fer- ave you the letter?” both did. And I was beginning a bygone! Yet he beats us ! Or he would h: “Did You Write It, You Blockhead?” warned—if he has not started. When was this given to you, Mr. Trusty Taylor?” “Two hours ago,” I said sullenly. I was pleased to see that that alarmed bim ‘You fool!” he sald. “Why did you fot tell me at once what you had got, and whither you were going. If the duke is taken it will Me at your door. And if he is saved it will be to my credit.” “I will come with you,” I said, plucking up a spirit as I saw him about to leave. “No, you will not,” he answered drily. “I am much obliged to you, but I prefer to gain the credit and tell the tale my “own way. You will stay here, Mr. Taylor, and when the duke is away, I'll come and re- lease you. In the meantime, I would ad- Yise you to keep quiet, Hoity-toity, what is this?” he continued, as in my despair 1 tried to push by him. “Go back, you fool, or it will be the worse for you. You are not going out.” And resisting all my appeals and re- monstrances he thrust me forcibly from the door, and whipping outside it, locked it on me. In vain I hammered on it with my fist and called after him, and ihreaten- ed him. He clattered unheeding down the stairs, and I heard the house door slam- med and locked. I lisiened a moment, but} all remained quiet, and then, wild with rage, I turned to the window, thinking that that way I might still escape. Alas, it looked only into a walled yard, and was strongly barred to boot. God knows I thought myself then the most unlucky of men; a man ruined when on the point of a great and svemingly as- sured success! I flung myself down in my despair, and could have dashed my head inst the boards: But presently, in the tof my bewailing myself, and when first convulsive fit of rage was abating, a new thought brought me to my feet in a penic. What if Smith, before he returned, fell in with Ferguson? The meeting was the more probable inasmuch as, if Fer- guson succecded in freeing himself, he was as likely to hasten to the Duke of Berwick to warn him as to do anything else. At any rate, I was not inclined to sit, weigh- ing the chances nicely, but hastening fran- tically to the door, I tried it with knee and sheulder. To my joy it yielded somewhat; on which, throwing caution aside, L drew back and flung myself against it with all my weight. The lock gave way, and the “HERE, FERGUSO) | was beside he: £ Har, girl,” he anwered, doubtfully; but Ij in their wv: eS believed stuck knew by his tone that he her. “You may think what you like,” she re- Pivand how do you think I am to do for tonight?” he answered, querulously. “You must do as you can,” she said. “You have your hollands and I have Lrought some bread and meat.” “It is a dog’s life,” he said, with a snarl. “It is the life you choose,” she retorted sharply. este!” he answered after a pause of sheer astonishment at her audacity. “What is It to you, you slut?” “Why a dog’s life, too! and not of my choice!” she cried, passionately, her voice breaking. “What am I better, as I live, than an orange girl in the streets? What do I get, and walk the pavement on your errands night and day? And always hiding and sneaking, hiding and sneaking! And for_what?” “For your living, you beggarly baggage!” he roared. “Who feeds you and clothes you, you graceless hussy? Who boards you and lodges you, and finds you in meat and malt, you feckless toad? You shameless—” “Aye, call names!” she answered bitterly —and it was not hard to discern that she elf with the long sick wait- ing and the Msappointment. “It is what you are good for! It is all that your plots erd in! Gall names and you are happy! But I am tired, and tired of it, I tell you. I am tired of bare boards and hiding, and all for what? For those, that when you have brought them back, you will be as fierce to oust as you are now to restore! HERE’S YOUR MAN!” door flying open, I came near to falling headlong down the stairs. . Still I had succeeded. But I soon found that I_was little nearer freedom than be- fcre. The passage was now dark and the house door, when I found my way to it, re- sisted all my efforts. This drove me to seek another egress, which it was far from easy to find. Ai length, and by dint of grop- ing about. I hit on a door which led into a dewnstairs room; it was unlocked and I entered, feeling before me with my hands. The darkness, the silence of the empty house, ard my hurry futmed a situation to appall the boldest; but I was desperate, and extending my arms, I trod cautiously across the room to where the window should be, and sought for and found the shutters. I tried the bar, and to my joy felt it swing. I let it down softly and drag- ged the shutters open, and sweating at every pore saw through the leaded panes the dark, dull lane outside, with a faint light from a neighboring window falling on the wall opposite. I was seeking for a part of the window that opened, ~nd wondering whether, fail- ing that, I should have the courage to burst the casement and run for it, when a step approaching along the lane set my heart beating. The step came nearer and paused, and peering out, my face nearer the glass, I saw a man had come to a stand before the dcor. I looked, and then, to say that my knees quivered under me but faintly expresses the terror I felt! For as the man moved he brought himself within the circle of light I have mentioned, and at the same time he raised his face, doubtless after scarching in his pocket for the key, and through the glass my eyes met those of Ferguson! Chapter XXVI. if, a few minutes before, I had thought myself the most unlucky of men and placed by that which had already trappen- ed beyond fear or misfortune, I knew bet- ter when I saw that sight from the win- dow, and fell back into the darkness, as if even from the road and through the panes Ferguson's eyes must discover me. Ignor- ant whether the room in which I stood centained arything to shelter me, or, bare- walled, must of necessity discover me to the first person who entered with a light, my natural impulse, when the moment of panic passed, was to escape from it. But it was not easy to do this in haste? By the time that, trembling in every limb, I had groped my way into the passage, the key was turning in the lock of the outer door, and I saw myself within an arm’s length of capture. This so terribly terrified me that I sprang desperately for the staircase, but stumbled over the low- est step, and fell on my knees with a crash that seemed to shake the walls. For a moment the pain was so sharp that I could only lie where I fell; nor when, spurred by the imminence of the danger, I had got to my feet could I do more than crawl up the stairs and crouched down on the landing, a little to one side and@ out of eyeshot from below. aN Willingly now in return for present safety would I have forgiven Fortune all her past buffets! For if Ferguson came up, as I thought him sure to come up, I was lost; since I could neither retreat without noise, nor if I could, knew where to hide. In this extremity, my heart beai- ing so thickly that I could scarcely listen and thought I must choke, I was relieved to hear Ferguson—after ‘spending what seemed to me to be an age, striking flint and steel in the passage—go grumbling into the lower room; whence a glimmer falling on the wall of the passage told me that he had at last succeeded in procuring a light, It was no surprise to me as I sweated and cringed in my hiding place to learn that he was in the worst of tempers. I heard him swear—as I supposed—at the open shutter; then, almost before I had thanked Providence for present safety, he was Cut again in the passage. I made no doubt that he was going to ascend now, and I gave myself up for lost. But in- stead he stood and called, “Mary! Mary! Do ye hear, you hussy. If ye are hiding above there {t will be the worse for you, ye d—d baggage! Come down; d’ye hear me?” Surely now, I thought, getting no answer he would come up, and my heart stood. But it seemed he called only to make sure and not because he thought that she was above, for he went back into the lower room, and I heard him moving to and fro, and going about to light a fire, the crack- ling of which gave an odd note of cheerful- ness in the house. I was beginning to weigh the possibility of stipping by the half-open door, on the chance of finding the outer door unfastened, and, with this in view, had risen to my feet, when a key again grated in the lock, and, supposing it to be Smith, I returned to my former po- fon aed it been Smith it would have been seme comfort to me, for I thought him more prudent if no less dangerous than the plotter, and I fancied that I had more te fear from one than from two. But the step that entered was lighter than a herp while Ferguson's greeting told the rest made the situation cleer. ea “Ha! you are here at last, are you!” he cried with an angry oath. “Did you want me to break every bone in your body, lass, that you stayed out till now, and I to have the fire to light? You should have a pretty good tale to tell or have kept clear of this! D'ye hear me? Speak, you viper, and don’t stand there glowering lke a wood cat!” “I am here now,” was the answer. My heart leapt, for the voice was Mary’s; the tone sullen and weary, I could understand. “Here now!” he retorted. “And that ts to be all, is it? Perhaps, my girl, I will pres- ently show you two minds about that. Where is the baggage?” “It is not here.” “Not here?” he cried. she And shameless it is you call me?” she con- tinued with feverish rapidity. “Shameless? Have you not sent me out into the streets a hundred times, and close on midnight, and not a thought or care what would happen to me, so long as your letter went safe? Have you not sent me, where to be taken was to be jailed and whipped, and not a thought of pity, or what a life it was for a girl? Have you not done this and more,’” she continued, breathless with pas- sion. “And more? And yet you take praise for feeding me? And call me graceless and shameless?” She paused and gave him room to speak; but though he put on a show of bluster, it was evident her violence alarmed him. “Odd’s name, and what is all this?’ he said. “What ails the girl? What has set you up now, you vixen?” ou!” she cried vehemently. your trade.” “Well,” he said, with a snort of sullen Teasonableness, “‘and what is the matter with the trade? What is wrong with the trade, I say? I'll tel you this, my lass. You would live badly without it.” “I would live honestly,” she cried. as my father lived!’ “You drab!’ he cried. “Leave that alone.” At that, and when, judging from the tone of his voice, I expected him to break out with fresh oaths and curses, there was instead an astonishing silence, which fell for me at an unlucky moment, for forgetting, in my desire to see as well as hear, the risk 1 ran, I had crept down the stairs, and now lacked but a pace of see- ing into the room. The noise ceasing, I dared neither take that step nor retreat, and it was only when the silence had con- linued so long that curiosity overcame fear that I ventured the advance, and look- ing in saw that the girl, her fire and fury gone, was leaning against the wall beside the hearth, her face averted, while Fer- g.son himself, in an attitude of dejection scarcely less marked, stood near her, his head bowed and his blood-shot eyes fixed on the fire. “Ay, he Mved honestly, your father,” he muttered at last. ‘It is true, my lass. I grant it. But he had a fair wind, had Alan, and a short course, and if he had lived to be sixty, God knows! We are what we are made. I mind him well, and the burn we fished and the pickle things we took out, and your mother that played with us in her cutty sark, and not a shoe between us or a bodle of money, but the green hills round us, and all we knew of the world, that it lay beyond them. And was all your father ever knew, my lass. And weil for him! Ay, well for him. But woe’s me and woe to the man who took my living, and woe to the evil king!” His voice was beginning to rise; in a moment he would have reached his usual pitch of denunciation, of which even now some of his many writings afford a pale re- flection; but at the word king there came @ sharp knocking at the door, and he paused. .For me, I turned in a panic, and, heedless what noise I made, I hurried up the stairs. The steps creaked under me, but fortunately the knocking was repeated so quickly and persistently that it covered the sound of my flight, and before I had more than ensconced myself in the old place Ferguson, doubtless in obedience to seme signal, was at the door and had open- ed it. Immediately half a dozen men poured noisily in, breathing hard and growling in low tones, and passed into the room below. But until the outer door was closed and secured nothing I could catch, though fear sharpened my ears, was said. Then, as Ferguson went in after them, one of the newcomers raised his voice in answer to @ question and cried with a rattling oath, “What is up? What is up, old fox? Why, all is up! And we'll all swing for it before the month is over if we cannot clear out tonight! You are a clever one, Mr. Fer- guson, but you are caught this time, with better men. God! If I had the sneak here that peached on us I would cut his liver out! I would—” Two or three voices joined into the same tune and drowned his words, one asking where Prendergast was, another where Porter was, a third indulging in threats so horrid and blasphemies so profane that 1 turned cold where I erquched. I begun to understand what had happened, and my situation; but that nothing might be spared me, Ferguson, in a quayering voice that proved all was news to him, asked again what was the matter. “The Blues are moved," cried three or four at once. ‘They were marching out ‘when we left. The guards at Kensington are doubled, and the orders for the king’s hunting tomcrrow are canceled. They were hurrying to and fro calling the council when we came away, and messengers were beginning to go round the taverns. They have seized the horses at the King of Bo- hemia's Head." “But is it certain?” Ferguson asked, with a break in his voice. “You and “And “AY, as cel as that we shall hang if we do not get’over,” was the brutal an- swer. : “And the captain?” “I have been at his lodgings. He has not been heard of ce noon. He ordered his horse then, and they say took the road; and hell to it, if that is so, he is half way to France by And safe! Safe, you devils, and we are left here caught like rats!” “Ay, we'll go farther than France!” one shrieked. “As for me I am off. I shall——” “No, by God, you don’t!” cried another; and flung himself, as it seemed to me, be- tween him and the door. “You don't go and sell the rest of us, and save your own neck. You——” “Where is Porter?” a third struck in. “Ay, and Prendergast?” *s are not here! Nor Sir William! Nor Friend! So what is the good of talk- like that!” will make a fat hang, will Sir Wil- A hysterical laugh. #‘Ay, You should have to pen, oid fox,” one cried. “Then it was only the printer hung. But we'll drink-yeur- health before you swing. Up, Keyes, and fetch the stuff. It may be bad, bub en to. the squeezing of the Rotten” more; if it be the last toast, I drink!” apter XXVII. The terror that fad gripped me on their first entrance, and driving all the blood in my- body to my. , had there set it bounding madly—this terror I should vainly try to describé to fersons who have never been in such, situation, or within a few feet of death,'&s I fhen found myself. That, reckless and driven to the wall, the con- spirators Se rifice me to their ven- geance if they disedvered me 1 felt certain; and at any moment they might come up end discover‘e. Yet behind me were the confining walls of the rooms whence I knew of no exit, and: before me, where alone evasion seemed to be possible, the open door of the room below, and the flood of light that issued from the doorway, bade the attenpt. I lay sweating and lis- tening, therefore, while they snarled and cursed in the black mored of men betrayed and hopeless; and yet, because of the chance that after all they might go out as they come, I-could so far keep my ter- ror-within bounds. : Not so, when I heard. Ferguson bid_the man mount and fetch the keg. Had he come without a light I might still have con- trolled myself and kept quiet; and, holding my breath. though I:were suffocated, and silencing~my heart though I died, might have lain and let him pass in the darkness. Nay, had I crouchéd low, he need not have observed me, witha light; for I was a lit- tle beside the stairhead, and to enter the zoom whence I had broken out he need not face me. But when I heard him stumbling upward a sudden-sense of the loneliness of the house in that far corner of town came on me; and with-it an ovetwhelming per- ception of my helplessness and of the life and death struggle to which the men be- low were committed—so that death seemed to be tn the aie; which together so far overcame me that I. did the last thing I should have-exvected.. As the man came up the stairs, the liggt in,his hand, I rose up and stood gaping at him. He paused and: held up the Nght. “The devil!” ‘he “said, staring. And then, “Who the — are you?. Ferguson! Here's ares: % 5 below was @ roar s your manr”" . 3 The only answer from for liquor. ~ 3 “What.are you doing here?” he went on, Puzzled as much by my silénce ad nfy pres- ence, - . the * “I am—going,” I stamimered, a desperate hope-rising in my bpeast-at ‘sight-of the man’s perplexity.He might let me pass. For; aughts# know he would Rave done so, -and it is pessible that I might have gone unseen-by the-open door~below and gained the street. -But as he stood staring @ se:ond man came into the passage and looked up and saw’ mie. = “Hallo!” he said. ‘Who is that?” “Ferguson's man,” Keyes answered. “But, boil me, if I krow what is the mat- ter with him!" The other called Ferguson, and he came out and saw me,looked,and, with a scream of rage, sprang up the stairs. In the fury of /his wrath he threw himself on me so sud- denly and with so-much. violence and in- tention that I was a child in his hands, and but for the other’s exertions, who, not understanding the matter, tore ‘him from me, I must have been choked out of hand. As it was, E was black in the face, dizzy and scarcely conscious when they freed me from him, nor in much better case for the respite, for with all they could do he would not release my shoulder, but, drag- ging me down, cried breathlessly and con- tinuously to the others to listen—to listeri! That he had ‘the traitor, that I was the in- former, the spy, the! blood seller! And with that, and as he partly forced and partly tugged me down, the men thickened round me, until, arabica ito the lighted room, I fcund myselfShem#ned in by a circle of lowering faces anid: gloomy eyes, a circle that, look where 4} might, presented no breach or chance of escape, no face that pitied or urdérstood. He who seemed to be in highest ‘authofity among them—after- ward I knewchin#‘for Charnock, the un- frocked fellow, of Magdaien, who suffered with King awd Ferguson ; let» &0,: thrusting him back and calling ou. fina to tell his tale, and have dene with hig blasphemy. But though I turned that way in momeatary hope of ald, I read no enequr: nt.in a face as stern and relentlesses it-was fanatical. hooked high.pn. one walk: threw. its :ligat dewaward, obscured jhalf the circle apg, flung #:bright ‘glare on the other half, ,but in‘iight or shade, seen or unseen, and,.whether: dnigk flushed it, or passion blamrhed; it, every: face" that met my shrinking, gaze seemed to be instinct with coming.doom. , igi In such situations fear, which spurs some minds, parglyzes others; wainly [ tried. to think, to frame a defense, 40 deny or avoid. ‘The glare of the lamp dazzled and confused me. To Ferguson's passionate iterations, “The Lord has delivered him into our hands! I tell you, the Lord has délivered him into our hands! There is your inform- er! I swear it! I can prove it!” I could find no answer except a feeble “I am not! I am not!” which I continued to repeat— while one plucked me this way that he might see me better, and another that way, until Keyes struck me on the mouth, and thrvsting me back bade me be silent. “And you, too, Mr. Ferguson,” Charnock said, raising his hand to still the tumult, “have done with your blasphemy, and talk plainly. Say what you know, and have no tear. If what you allege be proved, we will do justice on him’ “Ay, by " cried Cassels, the swearer. “A life for a life.” “But first what do you know?” Char- nock continued brusquely. “Speak to the point. We must. gone by midnight if we are to save ourselves.” Then and then only, I think, Ferguson, hitherto blinded by rage, became sensible of the fact that he stood himself in a dubi- ous position; and that to tell all, and par- ticularly to reveal the visit which the sec- retary had paid to him at his lodgings, would, even with the addition of the at- tempt he had made on the duke’s life, place his conduct in a light far from favorable. Not only were the men before him in no mood to draw fine distinctions, or take all for granted, but it was on the credit of his name and as his tool that I had come to be mixed up in the matter and gained my knowledge of it. It took no great acute- ness, therefore, to foresee that their sus- Picions once roused, they would punish first and prove afterward, and be as ready to turn on the master as the man. These, when I came tg review the scene afterward, coolly and in safety, were, I hed no doubt, the reflections that made Ferguson pause at the last moment, and occasioned a kitid of fit Into which he fell at that—his eyes glaring, his jaw moving dumbly, and his hands springing out in un- couth gestures, like those of a man half paralyzed—a fit which at the time was set down to pure rage and a temper of mind always bordering on the insane. I suppose that in that moment, ard under cover of that display, his crafty brain, apt in such crises, did its work, for when he found his voice he had his tale pat, and where truth and a le most ingeniously and: sometimes inexplicably mixed would scarcely serve his turn or win him credence, he imposed on them, even on Charnock, by pure scorn and an air of superior knowledge. “What I know?’ said .he. “You shall have it! It #6 enaugh to blast him ten times. Todays it:happened that the secre- tary came toxme, to my lodgings.” For a momunt tbe roar of surprise which followed thisostatement silenced him. But in a mumentshe recovered himself. “ay,” he: said, deoking around him de- fiantly. “The .secnetary.. What -of it? Do you think ‘that yen: know everything, or everything is taldbto you? Today, I say, the duke came to my lodgings.” cfted ‘Charnock, between his 7? Ferguson answered. “Well, if you will havé%t, tolzend a message through me to the a as he has done three times before his grace has been in England. © = =UC “To the duke of} Berwick?” “What othér dulée ts there?” the plotter asked scornfdélly.*} “But G—! Jf the secretary knows that his grace isn Ehgland.” ‘Well?” Sled ; * «What will he-not know?” “I cannot say what he will not know, Mr. Charnock,” ‘the plotter answered with a cunning smile that brought his wig to his eyebrows. “But I can say what he did not know. He knew nqthing of your little buajness. For. the rest, when he left me, I missed my man here, and coming to in- quire learned that hé had been seen to join the secretary at the door of the house, speak to him and go away with him. That was enough for me. I changed my lodg- Keyes—die indeed make | listen, perhaps he was sent. He knew of this place. For the rest, I have told you all I know, and it is enough, or should be. Hang the dog up! There ts a beam and hook! You hound, you shall swing for it! he shrieked passionately, as he brought his crimsoned, blotched face close to mine and threatened me with his ten swollen fingers. “You thought to outwit me, did you? You, you dog! You crossed me and thought to sell me, did you? You doit, you zany! You are sold yourself! Sold and shall swing! Swing! Ay, and so shall all my enemies perish “An end to tha’ 8 ing him away roughly this is true, he shall swing!’ “Well, it is true enough,” cried a man, thrusting himself forward—thrusting him- self forward, while with shaking knees and chattering teeth and tongue that re- fused to do its work, I strove to form words, to speak, to say or do something— something that might arrest the instant doom that threatened me. “It is true enough!” he continued, coolly. “I was on the watch at the Kensington end this af- ternoon, and saw the secretary arrive and go in to the Dutchman. And he had this bully boy with him. know him again, and can swear to him. (To be continued.) a SLOT MACHINE 2,000 YEARS OLD. il the same, if Drop in a Penny 1nd the Holy Water Flows. From the London Daily Mail. If any one were inclined to throw a doubt upon that oft-quoted dictum of. King Soto- mon to the effect that “there is nothing rew under the sun,” he would probably feel bound to make an exception in the case of the penny-in-the-slot machine. There is very good evidence, however, that a coin-actuated machine was inveat- ed, if not actually in use, more than 2,000 years ago. Here is a correct picture cf the machine itself, which is copied from that which appcars in the book on “‘Pneu- matics,” which was written by Hero of Alexandria 150 B. C. Now this writer, according to his own showing, treats of many inventions #nd discoveries which had been handed down Hero's Slot Machine, 2,000 Years Old. by others, so that it is quite possible chat this particular penny-in-the-slot_ machine may be considerably more than 2,000 years old. But even if we assign this remote date to it, it must come as a surprise to maay that a thing which they believed to be so modern was actually contrived before the time of Christ. The machine is described as a “sacrificial vessel, which flows only when money is introduced,” and the manner in which this result is brought about can be readily un- derstood by reference to the drawing. A coin dropped into the slit at the top of the base depresses a lever, which has at its end a broad plate, upon which the coin momentarily rests. At the other end this lever raises a plug from the mouth of a pipe, causing any liquid with which the vase may be charged to, flow out at the side. Whether the vase was filled with holy water or what part it took in the religious, ceremonial of the time cannot be gathered from Hero’s book. There is simply the drawing and description of the apparatus, which, as will be seen, is a penny-in-the- slot device pure and simple. And, curiously enough, the dispensing of liquids by slot machines is one of the very latest. adaptations of the invention. We have had for some time a machine at the railway stations which will, upon the in- sertion of a penny, squirt a few drops of scent upon a handkerchief. But in various continental towns drinks of all kinds can be procured in the same way. But, as any one can prove, the idea is not new, and must be creditied to Hero of Alexandria, who lived in the second century betore Christ.’ ~se0-—_____ Her Trouble. From the Cleveland Leader. I met a pretty maiden, Whose eyes wore wet and red; I sovght to lend her sympathy, And tenderly I said: “Pray tell me of your trouble, ag imat 1 may help you bear tt; me heavy sorrow weighs and, O, f fain would share tte “Some friend, perchance, has left you-— well-loved one fs dead; You look back through the mist'of tears At happy moments fle Or has some one decelv Some heartless man and Oh, let me know his nan May meet him in a du She took her little ‘kerchief, And wiped her tears away, then, as I stood waiting, she At length contrived to say: “T've lost do fred, dor have I Bet eddy gay deceiver: ‘The trouble with be Is that I Have got the blabed hay fever!”” + Menelek Bars Tourists. From the London News. Pestered beyond all endurance by the mumerous foreign visitors from every quar- ter of the globe, Emperor Menelek has now made known that no one will be allowed to enter or travel in Abyssinia, unless in- trusted with some official mission by his governmen™to the court of the Negus, or else provided with a permit by the latter, which will only be granted in cases where the traveler is properly indorsed and warmly recommended by the recognized executive of his native country. a Rode. Backwards for Miles. From the Kansas City Star. Pedestrians, cable car passengers and wheelmen along Independence boulevard and later on 15th street were surprised about 10:30 o'clock last night to sea two young men seated on the handle bars of their bicycles, riding backwards. Ordi- narily, this is not considered much of a feat, as trick riders of fair ability ride ir. this fashion with comparative ease. But these young men, John and Joseph Rutan, had ridden the entire distance from Inde- pendence to Kansas City, over ten miles, in this way, ad are now claiming the Kansas City championship for long-distance backward riding. The younger Rutan, Joseph, rode all the way without a stop, while his brother was compelled to dismount at 15th and Olive streets for fear of colliding with some peo- ple alighting from a street car at that point. The young men rode to 14th and ‘Holmes streets, where it was agreed their journey should end. Neither showed the slightest fatigue on account of his novel Journey. ————_coo____—-__ She Presented the Wrong Card. From the Indianapolis News. The men employed at the Big Four freight office in Indianapolis think they have a good joke. A woman went into. the office and laid before the cashier a postal card, which she supposed was one she had received notifying her that there was freight in the station addressed her. 2. S . “Can I get that?’ she asked. The cash- “Certainly, I read it,” replied the wo- man, indignantly. The cashier silently handed the card back to the woman. Her left Use office. ? UNDERGROUND STREAMS | Petioe—that a rapidly moving cronograph Evidences of a Vast Subterrestrial Tidal System of Water Courses, Constantly Oscillating Water Affected by Storms and Influenced by the Moon. A remarkable new theory concerning the nature of parts of the earth's interior has Just been promulgated by Prof. F. H. King, | agricultural physicist of the University of Wisconsin. It fs to the effect that the sub- surface of the human fooistool is inter- penetrated by water incessantly in motion: that there Is a vast network of under. ground rivers, brooks, streams, pools and rivulets constantly flowing in various direc- tions, some shailow, some deep, some ne the surface, some far below the outer crust | —all of them having a definite tidal mo- tion and all subject to lunar influence. The theory is not based on pure supposition, but certain tests and observations have been made which give legitimate bearing to it, in the eyes of Prof. King's associates. Prof. Hallock of the physics department of Columbia College, when asked for his opinion of the theory, said he considered it very ingenious_and quite within the range | of probability. Map of Undergro Streams. Prof. King has so far determined the nature of these underground waters that at a recent meeting of the University Scien- tific Club he was able to draw a blackboard chart of many of the streams, their courses, movements and general character. He classifies the movements as gravita- tional, thermal and capillary. These are! due, respectively, to fluid pressure, osmotic pressure and surface tension. Thus the movement of these waters may be deter- mined by gravity, which would make them sink, so to speak, toward the center of the earth, by diffusion through the various substances with which they come in con- tact, ang by the tension to which they would be stbject when lying on the surface of the earth, but whether flowing toward the center or from the center or with a centrifugal or centripetal motion the fact is undisputed that they are in a constant state of oscillation. « Prof: King has even made automatic records which show that ground water is constantly. in a state of oseillation, which may extend over a long period, may Le siesmal or-may correspond with the high and low barometric waves associated with the movements of storms. He has made a series of reeords which show that the sur- face of the ground water in a well is much more responsive to atmospheric changes of temperature than is the barometer itself. He has also found that during stormy } weather the movements of surface water are so complex and rapid—so short inj] ly awaited by all scientists. The Champion in Frugality. From the Medical Record. Guy, the founder of Guy's Hospital :n Lendon, was as parsimonious in private life as he was munificent in public. A good story illustrative of this 1s told of him in connection with John Hopkins, one of his contemporaries, who was nicknamed Vul- ture Hopkins on account of his rapacious mode of acquiring his immense wealth. On one occasion he paid a visit to Guy, who, on Hopkins entering the room, lighted a farthing candle. Hopkins, on being asked the reason of his visit, said: “I have been told that you, sir, are better versed in the prudent and necessary art of saving than any man living, and I therefore wait on you for a lesson in frugality. I have always re- garded myself as an adept in this matter, but I am told you excel me.” “Oh,” re- plied Guy, “if that is all you came io talk | about, we can discuss the matter in the dark,” and thereupon he blew out the can- dle. ‘Struck with this example of economy, Hopkins acknowledged that he had met his supericr in thrift. see. No IN Winds. From the Chicago Record. Whichever way the wind doth blow, Some heart is glad to have it so; E’n architects und carpenters Are happy when a cyclone stirs. = co e Life’s Little Rumples. From the Detroit Free Press. “Madge is either awfully careless, or she is engaged.” “What do vou mean?” Vhy, she says she can’t wear a shirt Waist but one day. es Warding Of an Evil. From Brooklyn Life. “Why do you laugh at his jokes? It isn’t possible you understand them, is it?” “No; but if I didn’t laugh he'd try to ex- plain them.” ———-- + e+ --___ The pantsmakers have struck again in New York. lf the trousersmakers will only keep at work the public can do without pants.—New Orleans Picayune. is required to separate Immense Tid tem. Data from different wells and seem to suggest that there exi the surface of the earth an imm system, which is affected by and which rises and falls, or at le about with as much regularity as of the ocean. It is not stated there is any intimate these stream: the surface, exc erned by lunar natural proc! tly conne is a known fact from springs under bare . and the surfac a shown, even in wint ice, to be subject to ext lex oscillations, some of which appear barometric. It is a contention of Professor King that these underground waters embrace a world- wide zone. not, therefore, con- fined to the United 5 alone, but under- mine the surfaces of Europe, Asia, Afric and Australia as well. Professor King working to perfect a map of the ground streams of the world, and as he has finished we s' 1 doubt more of what the interior of the earth ©. The substitution of a theory them. springs es of wate that th influe: and that of percolation may -m with each other. » Loth gov- the € that the interior of the cupied by large bodies of wa’ ther refutation of the old theory olten character of the earth's cars ago it was thought that the of the earth was a molten mass which the result of the former geological conc It was held that the earth had pro- ed from its original entirely molten had cooled off on the surface, and cen- ter, but that there must, in the nature of things, yet remain a large portion of the interior which was yet in a molten condi- tion. During late years, hi ver, scie tists, while holding this view to be in a measure correct, yet contend that the pr cess of cooling is very much more advance than it was formerly supposed to me. The contend that the center of the earth tion. state; was gradually covling off toward th is very hot, but that it is not precisely a mol- ten mass. Heat Underground. That the center of the earth is quite hot is proved when very deep penetration through the surface is made. It is found that the temperature gradually rises as the center is ayproached. All deep wells are much hotter at the bottom than at the top, and Professor Hallock of Columbia Col- lege recently made a test of a very deep well near Pittsburg, Pa., in which the tem- erature, at a depth of 5,02 feet, had reached an altitude of 128 degrees.” This well is being dug in the interests of science and it is the intention of the owners to eventually carry the well down until a depth of two miles is reached. In Australia there is a gold mine the shafts of which have been sunk 2,000 feet into the earth. Temperature investigations show that the heat of the earth is materially greater at 2,000 feet than at the surface The possibilities of Professor King’s theory are very great, and from a scientific standpoint his investigations are very val- uable, and the final results are being eager- Mr. From Harper's Bazar. “I hear that you are about to build a fine residence,” said Mr. Tenspot to Mr. Crowe Doyle. “Yes, siree,” replied the man of newly found wealth. “It is going to have a pi- zarro in the front and a Porto Rico in the Parvenu. — Mark Twain's Reply. From the Argonaut. Gen. Porter tells a story of his farewell to Mark Twain once when Mark was going away. “I said, ‘Good-bye, Mark; may God be with you always.’ “He drawlingly replied: ‘I—hope—ffe—will but—I hope, too—that He may find some moments — to — take —care—of — rT you.’ ane eee Raising Palms, From the Yonkers Statesman. Jack—“Where's Bill now?’ Jill—“Out west.’ “What doing? “Raising palms. “Doing what “Raising alms—making _ tenderfoots throw up their hands. oe ae ce Don’t Call It That. From the Indianapolis Journal. Wheeler—“Whew! Isn't this day a scorcher?” Walker—“It has been a disagreeable, ex- asperating, muggy, infernally hot day, but I would not call it so mean a name as that.” — + 0+ Am Economical Father, From the Cleveland Plain Dealer, “I am sorry, count, but papa says he'd rather see me dead than married to you.” “Inde-e-ed! Weur fathaire is evidentiee an—what you call—an economicale persone. He knows ze funeral cost not so much as ze wedding.” ———_-ee—______ -“Want” ads. in The Star pay because they bring answers. PEARLS OF ETIQUE' certain for the day, carty them out. Do not be 4 you have made « plans - resolutely y