Evening Star Newspaper, September 4, 1897, Page 17

THE EVENING STAR, “SHREWSBURY” BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN. Se . by Stanley J. Weyman.) fer NAN—Cont Saturday remember and ignorar ued From « Star. Last I did not informed, a, ned the same at- floor. I do anything tor you?" I persisted, time I spoke more coldly; her si- lence began to annoy me. She looked up then with a 4 with lips so dry that they s ly per- You can iet “Cai but thi wan smile, I answered prompt- nd iy. to put an e¢ hen to comfor do to you You ch notiel ides, what tly sit is y will serd me to she mutter and violently ne Compter, and adder so that And then rontin fi aking wit é Well! But if not. you had ve me. You do me no good,” she add r a slight pause, and with a ‘sob of impa- t woman— » Tes: tolera- g of -hension that her eyes. breath. Xperi- of it and mn and did mere opportunity ehance .more fav ked up ul that that « more I unl fumbling sort or acted under of the moment, I through, and wits to get he impulse Sw 1 contd orn, when I d, that 1 ps through the door. But the nerve to think of this or re- was ni; or stumble, small y doing | event it hed the irpri not that he m her one naid, or a well. For ri, having of reom ve b a Whig You Are a Good Fell que was first he med her not haif an hour before, it me that his eye alighted; and his words were proof that he suspected hing. Are you better? ndness and he said, pausing with onsideration that so well that became no other . “I am glad to see that you We shall want you presently. What was it?” And then, if I had answered him at once I have no doubt that he would have passed on, but my teeth chattered so pitiably that | could only gape at him, and on that, secing in a moment that something was wre he locked at my companion an ized her. I saw his eyes open wide with astonishment, and his_mouth grow stern. T! “But what—what, sir, is this? “And what do you—” He said no more, for as he reached that the door beside me opened gently and @ man slid round St, looked, saw the duke ood, his mouth agape, a stifled oath on his lips. It was Cassel, his hands shack- led. At this fresh appearance the duke’s as- tonishment ay be imagined, and could scarcely be exceeded. He stared at oor as if he questioned who still remained the next,to ng, I suppose, behind it, or who might be su from it. But then, s thing whimsical and bizarre in the situation—which there certainly was, xh at the time I was far from discern- it—and being a man who, in all cir- 4d me to th of wou see nothing surprising nce in his house; and more |, than I can now believe by her demeanor, I b over her. you know me?" I whispered. of itself w r came to} taking th + leck, my ha | shook so violently nd excite ment, that the fail fore I had suece ard through the crowd and seeing w P= sn tances, retained a natural dignity, he d; and, recovering himself before any one of us, took a tone between the grave and ironical. “Mr. Cassel?" he said. “Un- less my eyes deceive me? The gentleman 1 Saw a few minutes ago? The same,” the conspirator answered, jauntity, but his anxious eyes roving be- and behind the duke, belied his tone. ‘Then, perhaps,” my lord answered, tak- ing out his snuff box and tapping it with ® good-humored air, “you will see, sir, that your presence here needs some expl: tion? May I ask how you came here “The devil I know, or care you grace Cassel answered. “Except that I came in- to your house and with no good will, and if I could have found the door, should not have outstayed my welcome.” SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 1897—24 I believe it,” said my lord, dryly, “if I lieve nothing But you have lost the throw. And, that being so, may I beg that you will descend again? I am loth to use force in my own house, Mr. Cassel, and to call the servants would prejudice your case. If you are wise, therefore, I think that you will see the wisdom of re- tiring quietly.” “Have no fear; I will go," the man an- swered, with sufficient coolness. ‘I should not have come up but that T saw that squaretoes there smuggle out the girl, and, as no one was looking, it seemed natural to follow.” the duke, flashing a glance ened 1 nee joints. “He her out, could not less," the con- answere saved his Hfe Aye, would have him like : And not far wrong, er! But mum! I am talking. And him or no, I did not think the cre: d the spunk to do the thing. > the > word no h. for wench, your el drop: more t It is all her go, my a over. lord. ‘brows. “I se “Of whom into it,” the duke answered in measured tones, which showed pretty clearly that in spite of his good nature he was not to be led blindfold. “They can have nothing .to say that will reflect on me. And I am sure,” he continued slightly in- clining his head in a courteous fashion, “that the same may be said of Lord Marl- borough. “Cela va sans dire!" answered the earl in a voice so unconstrained and with a ges- ture so proud and easy that if he liked, as some have been found ready to assert, he showed a mastery of that art alike amaz- ing and incredible. “And of Lord Godol- phin also.” “By God, yes!” that peer exclaimed, in such a hurry to assent that his words tumbled over one anoihe! “Just so. I say so, my lord,” the earl repeated with a faint ring of scorn in his tone, while Lord Godolphin wiped his fore- head. “But innocence is no shield against calumny, and if these rogues can prolong their lives by a lie, do you think that they will not tell one? Or even ten?” “Ay, by God. will they!" cried Godol- phin. “Or twenty. I'll lay the long odds to that.” My lord bowed, and admitted that it was possible. “So possible," Lord Marlborough contin- ued lightly and pleasantly, “that it is not long since your grace, unless I am mis- taken, suffered after that very fashion. I have no mind to probe your secrets, duke. God forbid. I leave such tasks to my Lord Portland. But unless I am in error, when you last left office advantage was taken of “sO TELL ME ALL YOU KNOW. y who was more ls He ed, and then with an easy or I. True ion of 1 » hands—“some trifling ent be cretion. It was exaggerated and in- alt turnes tenfold, and placed in a light so ray a ¢ puld he at my lo s I ceuld n had failed befere, when in my ature * he repeat- | tassel, and mz do not beg of * he » “go with him, and when him back to the hali bring choose 1 to de continu ing me you ha me the door. “Well, Lam d—d!" said ssel. For the first time the duk of anger. he bring me to go; then. with | is hands to his head, took | his hat. My lord,’ aid, “you | well called the Ki of Hearts. For Whig you are a d—d ¢ fellow! pter XXNT. What inten¢ no time to el into ut, bade me desist with rougiin: “Do ye he, bu to me. drew m that way an.’ And he hed the door, sain th ning at He M and Ic fixed us » with Ca and t rom bling. the other, and the ick about | het it was impo; to Ludce | h. It amazed me t had not yet been at the girl's ab: but I knew i my enuy, irst other 1 coolly. k is with him.” suppose he can hay two at head! Phou- to be kept in| ime; and, bein the ipstayves end of men whoni 1, had no notion of pened or that their tale Some one h: pwered v lanthorn ng in the mi ht hanging lo ing intercepted by the heads of ‘those be- f bareiy reached the corner in which ill I knew that this was but 2 y Telief and joy were great ! Price!” was raised; $ > of the and be: om li» to tip, rd, and calied to the est to make a way for me; and this being done I was specdily passed through the | crowd to a door her side of the hall, where two’ who siood on 2 fled themsclyes s admitted. I was not yet out of the wood. Mor 1 had to doubt how I no’ ood in the duke's faver, or what might be his intentions toward me. But at least I kad escaped from the hall and frem the steward, whom 1 had be: gun to regard with a mixture of fear an. hatred ad I prepared to face the ordeal courage was not to be proved. The room in which I found myself large and lofty, lined for the most part with nooks and adorned with marble busts that gleam- ed ghostly in the obscure corners, or stood out bright and white where the radiance of the candles fell on them. in the middle of the rich dark carpet that covered the floor stood a table furnished with papers, pens and books; and this, with three in quisitorial chairs, set along the farther side of it, had a formidable air, three persons for whose accommodation the chairs had been placed were now on their feet. standing In a froup before the hearth, and so deeply engrossed in the subject under discussion that if they were aware of my entrance, they took no notice of it. The Earl of Marlborough, the More hand- some and courtly of the two noblemen whom I had seen pass through the hall, @ man even then of a great and spiendid presence and address, though not what he afterward became,was speaking,when, find- ing myself unkeeded, I gathered my wits to Usten. “I have no right to give ad- v’ce, your grace,” he was saying in suave and courtly accents. But I think you will be ill-advised if you pay much attention to 1, but | But the; what these rogues allege; or make it pub- lic.” “No man will be safe!’ urged his com- panion, with, ft seemed to me, a note of anxiety in his voice. “Better hang them out of hand,” re- sumed the earl blandly. And he took snuff, and delicately dusted his upper lip. #Yet I do not know,” answered the duke, who stood between the two with his eyes on the fire, and his back toward me. “If we go too fast, people may say, my lord, that we fear what they might disclose.” The earl laughed blandly. “You had It- tle gain by Preston,” said he. “And you kept him long enough.’ “My Lord Devonshire is anxious to go into the matter thoroughly.” “Doubtless he has -his reasons,” Lord Marlborough answered, shi his shoulders.” “The question is whether your grace has the same.” “I know none why we should not go ut—" he paused again to take a of snuff from his bo: hat for a P even the king red to believe my Lo Ss corre ing with rance. ost amusing."’ » cid not answer for a moment: oice that s a lit > witne he said. Lord Marlborough answered, i noulde with charming ss what I say. y We have do not gr ‘ou or me. clear conscienc nd clean hands, and can these rufti Sut the party must be ldere “There is something m that,” said the duke, nodding and speaking in ‘his natural tone. “A r men, as innocent but more vuln too, should be consid- ered True,” said Lord Godolphin, nodding. ‘True, by Gea!’ The duke assented thoughtfully. “T will ar it in mind,” he said. “f think it is a tionable poli In any event | am sure that your grace’s prudence will stecr the matter to a safe issue,” Lord Marlborough answered in his courtlicst fashion. “IT thank heaven that you are here in this emergency, and not Portland or Auverquerque, who see a foe to the king in every Frenchman.” “I should be sorry to sec glishman in the duke said, with th Marlbi we ough answered placid- detaining your grace. cd, we must be going. I sup- ohn ig not taken?” enwick?”w It has not been reported. With that the two noblemen took a for- mal farewell, and the duke, begging them © out by his private door that they might avoid the press in the hall, they we Fe reom in that direction when a 1 hubbub arose outside and a ery of nd before they had more than r eyebrows, asking one another at it meant, the door beside h T stood was opened, and a gentleman ne in. He looked with a flustered face the duke. pardon,” h Aid. hurriedly. “One of the prisoners ha escaped!" id the duke. “How?” s somehow slipped awa: wid, it is believed, your grace. The messenger—" Rut { that moment the unfortunate off- if appeared in the doorw: ared out of his life. “What is said the duke, sharply. whimper “Fore God, it ts not d. “She never passed May I die if she did, still in the hall.” arched it through and in answered, desperately. “Tt remains only to search the house, your i ally “Why the house? ave slipped into the house, rT went out,” the man answered ‘She never went out.” duke shrugged his shoulders and turned to Lord Marlborough. “What do you think?" said he. The earl raised his eyebrows. By this time half the concourse in the hall had pressed to the doorway ere staring or appar- into the room. “Call Martin, said the duke. “And stand back there a little, if ou pleas he continued, haughtily. “This is no public court, good people.” It seemed to me—but was in a boundless frigh’ wculd never come. He and pushing his way t presented himself dence that failed te hide his apprehensions, Nor was the duke’s reception of him cal- culated to set him at his ease. “Stand out, man!” he sald harshly, and with a nearer approach to the tyrannical than I had hitherto scen in a man who was perhaps the best-natured of his species. “Stand out and answer me, and no eva- sions. Did I not give you an order of the strictest character to lock the inner door and leave it for nothing, and no one—while this business was forward.” Martin gasped. ‘May it please your grace,” he said, D “Answer, fool, what I ask,” the duke cried, cutting him short with the utmost asperity. “Did I not give you those or- ders?” The man was astcnished, and utterly ter- rified. “ he said. “It ts true, your grace. “And did you obey them?” Poor Martin, seeing that all the trouble was like to rest on his back, answered as in all probability the duke expected. “I did, your grace,” he said roundly, “I have not been an arm's length from the door, nor has it been unlocked. I have the key here,” he continued, producing it and hold- ing it up. “Has any one passed through the door— while you have been on guard?” The steward had gone too far to confess the truth now, and swore positively and re- peatedly that no one had passed through the door or could have passed through the door; that it was impossible; that the door had been locked all the time, and the key in his possession; finally, that if the girl had gone through the door she must have gone through the keyhole, and was a witch. At which some present crossed themselves. but my house, I, behind the door, it—that the steward did come at iast, hrough the crowd with a bustling confi- said the duke, address- . “Doubtless she slipped through the crowd, and as you are re- sponsible and will have to answer for the girl, I would advise you to lose no time in searching such of Mr. Ferguson’s haunts. as are known to you. It is probable that she will take refuge in one or other of! them. However, I will report the matter as favorably as I can to the council. You can go. Lodge the others to the warrants, and make no second blunder. See these people out, Martin, And for you, my lords, I am sorry that this matter has detained you." * “La fille—ne valait pas beaucoup?” said the early, curiously. . “Pas de tout!” my lord answered, and, smiling, shrugged his shoulders, ‘Rien!’ Chapter XXXII. With the least inclination toward merri- ment I must have laughed at the face of horror with which Mt, Martin, when he went a few minutes later to expel the last stragglers, came on me where I stood, try- ing to efface myself behind the door. He dared not speak, for the duke was standing at the table a few paces from him; and I would not budge. Fortunately, I remem- bered that a still tongue was all he need wish, and I laid my finger on my lips and nodded to him. This ‘a little encouraged him, but not much, and in his fear of what I might, in spite of my prorhise, let out, if I were left alone with‘ his master, he was still in two minds whether he uld eject ae or not, when the duke spoke. Is Price there?” he said, with his face averted and his haads still busy with the papers. ‘The man I sent ror? . “Yes, your grace,” Martin answered, making hideous faces at me. “Then leave us. Shut the door.” If my lord had spoken the moment that was done and we were alone, I think it would have relieved me. But he continued to search among the papers on the table) and left me to sink ander the weight of the stately room with its ordered rows of bocks, its ticking dial, and the mute busts of the great’ dead. The duke’s cloak lay across a chair, his embroidered star glit- tering on the breast; his sword and dis- patch box were on Another chair, and a thing that I took to be the signet gleamed among the papers on the table. From the lofty mantelpiece of veiaed marble that, Supported by huge rampant dogs, towered high above me (the work, as I learned af- terward, of the, famous Inigo Jones), the portrait of a man in armor, with # warden in his mailed hand, frowned down on me, and the stilIness continned unbroken, and al! the things I saw speaking to me, grave- ly and weightily, of a worl] hitherto un- krown to me—a world wherein the foot ex- changed the thick pile of carpets for the sounding tread of Parian, and orders were obeyed unspoken, and sable-vested ser- vants went to and fro a sign—a world of old traditions, old observances, customs revolving round this young, I felt my spirits sink—the Was so great from the sphere i had known hitherto. Every moment the silence grew mere oppr e, the ticking Gf the clock more monotonous; it was an immense relief vhen the duke suddenly spoke, and ad- dressing me in his ordinary toi e, “You can wri said he. “Yes, your grace.” “Then sit here," he replied, indicating a seat at the end of the table, “and write what I shall tell you.” And before I could marvel at the ease of sition, 1 was quietly writ- I can no longer remember, for it p first only of many hundred pape: te and public importance which privilegea to ‘write ior his signature, hand shook, and it is unlikely that I hibited much of the n such work which it Manifest since; after glancing ove s his satisfaction. with Brome 4 ou learned to do sald he. Be » Your gric jaten now,” he continued, seating him- self—1 risen pectfully. “Tell me what happened to you yestcrday.” I had no choice + put to obey, but before I told my story, x nin a seeing that he was in a good humor ard so favorably inelined to me, I spoke out what was in my mind: end in the most moving terms possible I conjured him to promise me that I should not be forced to be an evidence. I would tell him all, T would be faithful and true to him, and ask nothiug better thaa to be his servant—but be am infermer in court I dared not “You dare not?" he said, with an odd lcok at me. “Ard why not,,man?” But all I could “I dare not!” “Are y » villains?” he centinvcd, tell you, we “I have them; it is they who bave to fear!” But I stil clung to my point. I would tell, but I would give no evidence; I dared impatier.tly. not. “Iam afraid, Mr. Price,” he said at that and with an air of some contempt, “that you are something of a coward!” I answered, groveling before him, that it ht be—it might be; but— “But—who of us is not? he answered with a sudden gesture between scorn and self-reproof. “Do you,mean that, man?” and he fixed his eyes on “Well, it is true. Who of us is not he repeated, slowly; and turning from me he began to pace the room, his hands clasped behind him; so that before he had made a single turn it was y to see that he had for- gotten my presence. “Who of us is not alraid—if net of these scoundrels, still of the future, of the return, of Jacobus ira- cundus et ingens of another 29th of May? To he sufe now and to he safe then--who is not thinking of that and living for that, and planning for that?” He was silent a moment, then with some- thing of anger in his voice, y word Marlborough dipped to the lips in "88, who shall say that for all that he has not made his peace? And has good reason to urge us to let sleeping dogs lie? And Godolphin, is {t only at Newmarket he has hedged— that he says. the less we go into this the better? And Sunderland, who trusts no one and whom no one trusts? And Leeds —all things for power? And Clarendon, once pardoned? And Russell, all temper? Who knows what pladges they have given or may giv Devonshire—Devonshire only has to lose, and stands to lose with me. With me!” As he spoke thus he seemed to be so human, and through the robe of state and Stateliness in which he lived the beating of the poor human heart was so plainly visible that my heart went out to him, and with an eagerness and boldness that now surprise me I spoke to him. “But, your grace,” I said, “while the king lives all goes well, and were anything to happen to him—” $2” sald he, staring at me, in no little astonishment at the interruption. “There is the Princess Anne! She is need my Lord Mariborough!” sald he, ainiling, “Well, it may be, But who ‘kine Brome,” said I, abashed. “What T Mal’ i keep forgetting,” he answered yiy, “that I am talking to one of the thakers of opinion—the formers of taste. But there, you shall be no evidence, I give yeu my word. So tell me ay you know, nd what befell you yesterday.’ ay had no desire but to do so—on those terms and one small matter excepted; and not only to do that, but all things that could serve him. Nevertheless, and though I had high hopes of what I might get by his grace and favor, I was far from under- standing that that was the beginning of twenty years of faithful labor at his sida; of a matter of 15,000 papers written under his eye, of whole ledgers made up, of es- tate accounts balanced and tallies collected, of any winters and summers spent among his books, either in the placid shades of Eyfcrd or in the dignified quiet of St. James’ square. But, as I have said, though I did not foresee all this, I hoped much, and more as, my tale proceeding, my lord’s generous emotion became evident. When I had done, he said many kind things to me, respecting the peril I had escaped, and adding to their value by his manner of say- ing them and by the charm which no other so perfectly possessed; he ‘left me at last no resource but to quit the room in tears. Treated thus with a kindness as much above my deserts as it was admirable in one of his transcendant rank, and assured, moreover, by my lora’s own mouth that henceforth, in gratitude for the service I had done him in Ferguson's room, he would provide for me,:I should have stood —I ought to have stood—in the seventh heaven of felicity. But/as suffering moves unerring on the track of weakness, and no man enjoys at any moment perfect bliss, I had first to learn the fate of the girl whose evasion I had contrived. And when @ cautious search and questions as crafty had satisfied me that she had really effect- ed her escape from the house—probably in & man’s dress, for one of the lacqueys com- plained of the loss of a suit of clothes— Thad still a care, and a care which gnawed more sharply with every hour of ease and safety. . Needless to say, the one matter on which I had been reticent, the one actor whose presence on the scene I had not disclosed to my lord. lay at the bottom of my anxiety. Kind in action and generous in intention as the duke had shown himself, his magnanimity had not availed to oust from my mind the terror with which Smith's threats had imbued it; nor while confessing’ all else had I been able to bring | myself to denounce the conspirator, or de- tall the terms on which he had set me free. Though I had all the inducement to speak which the certainty that his arrest would release me could present, even this and the security of the haven in which I lay failed to encourage me to the point of hazard. So strong was the hold on my fears which this man had compassed, and so complete a slavery to which he had reduced my But though at the time of confession 1| 1 found it a relief to be silent about him, this same silence presently left me alone to cope with him, and with the fears suf- ficiently poignant, which his memory awakened, the result being that, with pros- pects more favorabfe and a future better assured than I had ever imagined would be mine, or than any man of my condition had a.right to expect, I still found this drop of poison in my cup. It was not enough that all things—and my patron— favoring me, I sank easily into the position of his privy clerk, that I retained that ex- cellent room in which I had first been placed, that I found myself accepted by the household as a fact—so that never a man saved from drowning by a strand had a right to praise his fortune as I had; nor that the wind from every quarter seem- ing at the same time to abate, the prison- ers went for trial, and nothing said of me, while Ferguson, of whose complicity no legal proof could be found, lay in prison under the suspension of the habeas corpus, and kept silence; nor even that a note came from Mary, ostensibly from Denkirk, and without compromising me, informed me of her safety. It was not enough, I say, that each and all of these things happened be- yond my hopes, for in the midst of my prosperity, whether I stood writing at my lord’s elbow in the stillness of the stately library, or moved at ease through the cor- ridor, greeted with respect by my fellow servants, and with civility by all, I was alike haunted by the thought and terror of Smith, and the knowledge that at any mo- ment the conspirator might appear to hurl me from this paradise. The secrecy which I had maintained about him doubled his power, even as the ease and luxury in which I lived presented in darker and foul- er colors the sordid scenes and_ perils through which I had waded to this emi- nence, and into which, too, unless I was mistaken, his return’ might plunge me again. Chapter XXXII. I think that I had spent a week, or it might be more, in this situation of mingled ease and torment, when on coming down one morning after a hag-ridden night, I heard a stir in the hall, and, going that way to learn what it meant, met the serv- ants returning in a crowd from the front and talking low about something. Martin, who was foremost, cried: “Ha, you are too late!" And then, drawing me aside little den he had beside the pas: have taken him to the office But, lord’s sakes, Mr. Price,” he tinued, lifting up his lips to éxpr astonishment, “who would have thought it? Her ladyship will be in a taking! I hope that there may be no more in it than ap- pears!” n this arrest,” he answered, eyeing me with meaning, and then softly ‘closing the door on us. “I hope it may end there That is all T say! Between ours You forget,” I cried, with irritation, hat I know nothing about it! What ar- ? And who Is arrested?” fr. Bridges’ man of busin “What Mr. Bridge I cried. “Lord, Mr. Price, have you no wits?” he answered, staring at me. “My lord’s mother’s husband. The counte to be sure! You must know Mr. Smit It needed no more than that, although without the name we might have gone on at cress-purposes for an hour. But the name—the world held only one Smith for me, and he, it seemed, was arrested. He was arrested! It with the great- est difficulty that I could control my joy Fortunately the little cub, where we stoo Was ill-lighted, and Martin a man too mvch taken up with his own consequence to be overobservant of his companion. Still fo: a moment I was perfectly over- come, the effervescence of my spirits suci: that I could do nothing but lean against the wall cf the room, my heart bounding with joy and my head singing a paean of jubila ticn. Smith was taken! Smith was in the hands of justice! Smith was arrested, and I was free. The first rapture past, however, I began to doubt, partly because the news seemed to be too good to be true, and partly be- cause, though Martin had continued to babble, I had heard not a word. Wild, therefore, to have the thing confirmed, { cut him short: and crying, “But what Mr. Smith is it do you say? Who is he?” I brought him back to the point at which he had left me. “Why, Mr. Price,” he answered: “I thought every one knew Mr. Smith.” Mr. Smith, Mr. Bridges’ factotum, land ste: ard, what you will. He married the count- rss’ fine madame—madame they calied her in the household, though she is no French thing, but Hertfordshire born, as 1 knew by her speech, when my lord first took up with her. But not every one knows that.” “When my lord took up with he: T sald, groping among half-recognized ob- jects, and beginning—so much light m: come through the least chink—to see Mr. Martin nodded confidential “That is how she cime to be with my lady,” he said. “And Mr. Smith, too! My lord met her somewhere when he was young and gay and took up with her, and to please her got the place for Mr. Smith, who had been her flame before. However, my lord soon tired of her, for though she was a beauty she had common ways and wa told as brass: so when he parted from her she went back to her old love, who had first made her the mode; and married him. I have heard that my lord was tn a pretty taking when he found her planted at the countess. -But I have nothing to say against her.” “Does my lord see her now?” I said, with an effort. “When he does he looks pretty black at her. And I fancy that there is no love lost on ber side.” “What did you say that—they called her?” I asked. ““Madame—Madame Montercy.” I remembered where I had heard the name before and who had borne it; and saw so much light that I was dazzled. “And my lord’s mother—who married Mr. Brid- She is a papist?” Hush!” he said. “The less said about such things the better, Mr. Price.” But T persisted. vas She who ran off with my Lord Bucking? am in King Charles’ time,” I cried, "and held his horse while he killed her husband! And who had Mr. Killigrew stabbed in the streets, and—” In a panic he clapped his hand on my mouth. “God, man,” he cried, “do you know where you are, or is your head turn- ed? Do you think that this house is a fit piace to give tongue to such things? Lord, you will be but a short time here, and to the pillory when you go, if you throw your tongue that way! I have not blabbed as much in twenty years, and would not for a ktngdom! Who are you to talk of such as my lady?” (To be continued.) —— ae The Middlebury Stamp. From the Chicag» Record. One of the most curious legacies I have heard of was that of an ardent stamp col- lector who died a few years ago, and.in his will provided that his collection should be distributed among surviving stamp col- lectors in England who possessed examples of that rare and valvable stamp known as the “Middlehury,” which was issued by ‘the tewn of Middlebury, Vt., before the days of government post offices. It took several years for the executors to cetermine that it was impossible to carry out this bequest, because there are no Middlebury stamps in England, and therefore they wisely decided to leave the whole lot to the British Muse- um. The Midst of. the Battle. From Puck. Aid-de-camp—“General Weyler has or- dered the second column forward.” Official Correspondent—“Kindly inform him that it’s not all set up yet—our type- setting machine broke.” + The Pot and the Kettle. From Punch. - | FORTUNES IN STAMPS Extent of the Fad of Collect- ing. THOUSANDS EXPENDED ON I See ES Postmaster General Wanamaker's Calculation. ee eee THE COLUMBIAN ISSUE a UE Written for The Evening Star. If you could pay $900 for an article small enough to go in your vest pocket and eighteen years afterward sell 1t for $140,440), you would think you had made a pretty g00d speculation. That is the rate of increase in the value of a set of department stamps. I saw recently a catalogue of stamps publi in 1878 and the full set of department stamps was offered for % cents. Today it is listed in the stamp dealers’ catalogues at $110. In capsequence of the extraordinary in- crease in the, value of some stamps specu- lation in stamps has seized on tens of thousands of people in the United States. Whole communities are quite daft over tt I talked with an amateur collector here the other day about the craze, and he me of a recent visit he made to New Y to talk business with a firm for When he 1 of one of the de; eted with, “You'll whic he is"the western agent. on the h stamps @ man upt See you tomorrow, Extent of the Fad. Interest in the fad is not confined section or to large cities. it everywhere. I heard today of a pre in an Ilinois college who has } stamps for several ye: He spare cash into them, and whe a legacy some time go he put every of it into stamps. vs only old An ican stamps, and he has spent on them up to date $100,000 cash. He « to realize a million dolls : The craze for sta pt over the country tw years ago and there was a perfect fever of specula- tion, It lost much of In the strength out and stamp s hold on the years it has be and taking m ny forms. ‘sfied with having all possible variations of the tssue of a (sometimes two lots of the san will differ in a minute detail), cle colle: rs m: ve row h the margin of the stamp sheet show- ing the plate mark; they must have ca celed stamps on the original envel and they must have sets of government } stamped envelopes representing eve Varlaiion in size or quality of pa’ very latest is one which y collectors can afford to follow. It is a fad for collecting perfect stamps stamps on which the gum rem: nished and whose perforated fect. Heretofore the cancel been considered much more collections than the stamp uncanc Postal Service Abuses. It has been the custom of collectors to use $1 stamps on ordinary letters ad- dressed to themselves so as to have them in a canceled condition, and this has led to two abuses of the postal cervice—one in the cancellation of stamps of high de- | franc pr. | of ; Germar The Roa to Klondike is a long and hard one. It is much ea jer to get GOLD DUS from your grocer, Sold everywhere aad cleans everything. Made only by THE N. K. FAIRBANK COMPANY. Chicago. St. Le New York, | demand may ea ne \ of a stamp E j at $12 feli to § The : discovery of a i mps in 2n old sa have to wat ¢ stamp ca ning the refe them to only stamp and if a stamps is or even th when one ed to a or, he must examination to prove wheth or bogus. When he is nc judgment he submits tt the profession of “expert in followers. The w rican stamps is a St lawyer Tiffany. He receives stamps from all parts of the world for judgment. Only afew ago a packet came (o him fr He examines the stamps un a microscope, tests the gam on them trust to an it ts cenuin > of his own expert; and s” now expert su to a and s s chemical tests to prove their genu Of course, he charges a fe for this—which is another burden adie ination in-smail post offices, where the compensation 1s a percentage of his cancellation. Some years ago a Si Louls man got into serious trouble by writ- ing to country postmasters suggesting that he would mail packages, under heavy post- age, at their offices if they would divide commissions with him. He proposed to use the $1 Columbian stamp on letiers ad- dressed to himself, sent under cover to the postmasters to be remailed. In some in- stances the postmaster receives the full value of the stamps he canceled as coni- pensation, aad if he was willing to divide with the stamp man the cosi of the $1 stamps Would be reduced in this way to 7 cents. The government heard of this fraud and stopped it. Another abuse ¢ stamps bs aving them anceled stam: by the offi The department aints of these thefts. But today the can caste. The uncance . stamp is coming to the front. I asked my friend the ama’ pursued the fad. He is a citi: who began to collect stamps in a I keep on coltectini use I consider my stamp nt insurance. I began io make ection twenty-five years ago. enty years ago it was worth $250 or » I have added comparatively little to it, and today it i z ing to it now because I do ne investment which past rate of increas will be worth $1 twenty-five yea hence, if I live so long. With the additions I am making, and in view of the rapid in- crease in the value of some stamps re- it'is quite likely I will leave 520,009 to $50,000 worth of stamps as a legacy, if I live to a good age. This amateur, like most of the other stamp collectors, has his eye open for a trade or speculation at any Nearly Caught 4 The most frequent source of profit in stamps fs in finding people who own them and do not know their value. A St. Louis traveling man was in an Illinois town re- cently. A man with whom he did business showed him a stamp collection. The travel- ing man saw a number of rare stamps in the book. “Do you want to sell these?” he said. “I might sell them,” said the stamp own- er. “A man offered me $50 for the collec- tion once.” “ll give you $100 for it,” said the travel- ing man. The owner was not anxious to sell for $100. He thought they might be worth more. The traveling man raised his bid until it reached $300. This the other said he would accept. The bidder hurried to the station and wired his firm in St. Louis to send him $200 by telegraph. While he was doing this the brother of the stamp owner learned about the transaction. He knew something about stamps. When the trav ing marr came back with his $300, the stamp owner flourished a stamp catalogue at him. “You're too late,” he said. “Those stamps are worth ten times $300.” Finally the traveling man had to pay $1,000 for the collection, and he made a lively profit at that. The richest stamp collector in the world —a Frenchman, whose collection is said to be worth a million dollars—is in the “morgue” class. He may buy twenty du- plicates of one stamp, but he never lets one of them pass out of his hands. An example of rapid accretion in the value of a stamp is the State Department one-cent green. It has gone from $1 to $2.80 in six months. The Department of Justice :inety-cent stamp, which was ad- vertised four years ago at $4, is now listed at $60. = The Columbian Issue. Not all stamps increase in value greatly. In fact, stamps have been known to de- crease. The Columbian issue is a case in point. When Postmaster General Wana- maker was planning this issue, he figured on paying the cost of the new designs out of the sale of stamps to collectors, he was disappointed, as he acknowledged in one of his annual reports. But in spite of the lack of interest In the stamps shown by collectors, some speculators got the idea when the printing of stamps was stopped that when they could not be had at the post offices they would go quickly to a premium. So they laid in large stocks and waited for the rise. It came quickly when the post offices announced that they had for the stamps and the price. went up to the up to double the face value of the set. face value was a the advertised at the beginning of this year was it there was a reaction. The de- gone down stéadily at $26.10. The best of these stamps {s the $1 denomina- than the discounting of a ed by the mailing of for the purpose of is the theft of the post ay clerks in has had m » unsullied ur why he olid, sensible pllec= present collection cele the many + which the star Ay, a a aa Their First Quarret. From Pack, “Did you hear what Mr. and McBride quarreled about, and which eater break off the engag at almost on the wedding day?” Ke What was it?” wanted to ar eo their wedding t 0 that they i fol- the circuit.” Y low New Ball Club on its there? Brown ‘aught anyth How long have you beca STITCH! The woman who bends her back over a sew- ing machine for many hours each duy needs to be strong and healthy in every way, or she is courting death. When ber work comcs hard, and makes her nervous, fretful and despondent, and she has “stitches in the side,”’ pains in the back or abdomen, and hea a = aay be certain that some- thing is radical.y wrong. ‘A focal Bockon, with a limited field of ob- servation and experience, wil! probably say that the fault is in the stomach, liver or heart. Generally he is wrong. The fault is probably in the delicate and important organs that really constitute womanhood, ‘They are weak or diseased. If such is the case, only a doctor of known reputation and wide experience should be consulted. A it Buffalo, N. Y., will secure the free advice of prob- ably the most eminent specizlist in these diseases in the world. Dr. Picrce’s Favor- ite Prescription has been used with success over their signatures. It promptly cures all weakness and discase of the organs dis- tinctly feminine. All medicine dealers, “I have been a great sufierer from female dis- 3 Mrs. C. C. Clark, of New Rome, “Twas confined to bed three i three bottles of Dr. Pierce’ For Weak and Run Down People. What is It] Te sicvest of att restora- What it Does! ty, mating im toe aigept : ure and