Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, January 21, 1899, Page 6

Gorrereerererernnn ry THE BLACK TERROR A Romance of Russia. By JOHN Congrrgrrergergenrgorenrey CHAPTER X, (Continued.) “Farewell,” I echoed, and moved slowly to the door. Even then I was hoping that she would say something to recall me, but she did not move or utter a sound. I slowly went out, and closed the door behind me. But even then I could not bring my- self to go away to my own rooms. It was hard, oh! it was hard, to leave ker in that fashion. If lrene had the rank of a princess, still she a woman, and I loved her. It was cruelly-hard that I should be forced to leave ber, it might be for the last time, and allow to think that I was the heart- s, Selfish creature she now believed me to be. My hand was on the door—I had not made up my mind what I should say to her, or whether I should say any- thing at all—and almost without any conscious effort on my part, I gently opened the door. As I did it, the sound of a sob caught my ear. The next moment | was stand- ing beside a chair at Lrene’s side. Her face was buried in her hands, and, even as I stood there, another sob shook her breast. And then, as I stood there in helpless distress, she sprang to her feet, as if my presence were such a contamjnation that she | must forget her sorrow in order to rid herself of it. She sprang to her feet, and her cheeks were flaming scarlet, and her voice, when she spoke, had an y thrill in it. What she said I ely remember—it was something in the nature of a demand to know why I had returned—but I broke in with— “I have come back to tell you that [| cannot bear to leave the tle while | you think as badly of me as you do now. You see how weak I am. I had intended, for the sake of sparing your ; anxiety, to keep what I am about to | a secret, from you as well as the | Princess Kropenski. But perhaps it is better that you should know that | there is just a chance that I may be | able to do something for your father. I am going to England, it is true; but } that will be only a halting place on my journey. “What journey do you mean? Where are you going?” “I am going to see your father!” , “What! To see my father! And I was thinking you so cold, so heartless! Oh, Mr. Heath, can you ever forgive m { “Indeed, there is nothing to forgive.” “Indeed, there is! And you will see my father! You will speak wtih him! You will find out where these wretches | have concealed him—you will inform | the police—they will rescue him from their clutches. He will be back again De re lorg! Is that what you mean to | dc “Ah, Princess!” 1 exclaimed, “you are asking the impossible. I will not be allowed to see the Prince without | pledging myself to secrecy; and, even | if I could bring myself to violate that | pledge, it is not likely that the Nihil- | ists would trust themselves entirely to | my sense of honor. They will be sttre + to take effectual steps to protect them- selves.” ‘ i “Then what is the use of your go-} ing?” t “It seems that the conspirators wish } me to do them a service—what it’is [| do not know—and they have hinted to | me that, by consenting to do what) they require of me, I may get them to \ set your father at liberty. Whether [| sball be able to do what they ask ©: not, I do not know, so L beg you not to | raise your expectations too high.” j Irene made no answer for some sec- | onds. Then she seized my hands and kept them imprisoned in her slender fingers, while her eyes searched my face in the darkness. "You may, then, bring him back?” | she murmured. | “I believe it possible.” Suddenly, as if remembering that she i still held my hands, she dropped them | and drew back a step. “Will you take a letter from me to my father?” she asked. I dare not carry a secret—I mean a closed letter. But if you care to in- trust an open one to me, and allow me to ask the permission—” “Ask the permission of those assas- sins, those bandits, whether I may write to my own father! Submit what I may write to their inspection! No, | thank you! Neither my father or I} would care for such correspondence. And, after all, what could I say to; him that he does not know well al- ready? You will tell him how we dre, my mother and I?” I assured her that I would; and she! gave me many loving messages to be delivered to the Prince when I shouid see him. : “And to think that you will’see my father, that you will undertake a long and toilsome journey for the purpose, and put yourself in the power of men who are outlaws from society! Why should you do all this for us—you, who are a stranger?” “It is too bad, Princess, to say that 1 am a stranger,” I laughed. “You know what I mean. You are‘ not in any way bound to do my father this great service—not to speak of the greater service you may be able to do for him—to secure his being set at lib-! erty. Why should you do all this for ; u 1 1 “Can you not guess?” I said, in a voice that sounded: in my own ears Larsh and strange, like the voice of | another man. The words were spoken | before I knew; if I had taken time to! think I would not have said them; but they had escaped my lips. and now | that I had spoken them I was glad of | it. I took a step forward. The Prin- cess neither came to meet me nor re- mer K. LEYS. treated. But it was too dark for me to see her face. “Irene—!" A silence. “Irene, you are not angry with me? Have [ offended you?” “Another silence. At last the answer came. “No, you have not offended me. But please say no more. My father is in the hands of his enemies and my moth- er is in sore trouble: How can we think of anything else just now?" £ach word was clear and distinct, in her soft, melodious voice; but it was plain, from the intonation that a rush of emotions, new and fierce, and bat- tling with one another, had nearly pre- vented her speaking. As for me, I was more than content. Only one meaning, I rapturously told niyself, could be put in her words. At} least, I was not indifferent to her. She did not thrust me away from her with scorn. She did not regard me as a be- ing belonging to a different, a lower | sphere, between whom and_ herself there could be no tenderness of feeling, | no possibility of love. The only response I made was to take her hand in mine and press it for an instant to my lips. The next day I} left the castle. CHAPTER XI. . The Mineral Water Man. In a week I was in London, and ear- ly in the afternoon of the 3d of July I! stepped out on the platform of the lit- ; tle station near Brierwick, in Suffolk. | Among the passengers who alighted at the same time—there were not more | than a dozen, all told—was a man| about thirty years of age, whom I! judged to be, like myself, a stranger | tothe place. He carried a small black | bag, wore a loose overcoat (although the day was hot enough to roast an | egg In the sun) ahd a tall silk hat set | yery far back on his head. I passed him at the. exit from the station, and began the walk of two miles along a very dusty lane, which was to bring me to the township of Brierwick. One by one my fellow travelers passed out of sight, some walking on more rapidly than I felt inclined to de on so hot a day, other turning off in various directions. At length, on glanc- ing behind me, I found that the only man in sight. was the stranger I have mentioned. Seeing this, he quickened his: pace until he, overtook me. He then bade me “Good afternoon,” civilly enough. “Poor sort of place. this I take it,” said he, jerking his head in the direc- tion of the little town ahead of us. “So I believe. I am a stranger in} this part of the country,” I returned. | “So am I. Traveler in the: mineral | water line. It doesn’t seem to me that | the country is worth working.” “Probably not.” “There are only two pubs in the place, I am told.” “Indeed!” “Yes; ‘and only one of them, I tn- derstand, is fit for a gentleman ‘to put | up at—the Ship. Perhaps you are bourd for the same rendezyous?” As there was no reason why I should not go to that.innas well as another, L said “yes.” “Shall [ order lunch for us both | when we get there?’ asked my self-) constituted companion, with a grin! that was intended to be ingratiating. | I leoke@ at the speaker again, »nd | thought I detected a look of cunning in the small brown eyes of the mineral water man. He was not altogether a pleasant-looking specimen of humani- | | ty. He wore his dark hair rather long; | and his whiskers, cut short off in a/ | slanting line from his ears, joimed on.to | his moustache, so as to give him the! appearance of an animal bridled—espe- | cially when he turned his little snub | nose up in the air. His hands, I no- ticed, were very broad and not .too clean. I did not particularly crave for this man's society, but I did not like to hurt his feelings; and as it was evi- dent that we would both be in need of refreshment by the time we reached the inn, I accepted his proposal. It mattered nothing to me how I spent the time before 2 in the morning, the hour at which I was’to meet the em- issaries of Von Mitschka and _ his friends. ‘ After luncheom my new acquaint-; ance proposed to’‘accompany me to the | beach, but L was tired of the man’s. company, and declined his offer, ‘The'| shore’ I found, was,covered with low | sand hills, held together by long, wiry ' grass. The village was built close to | the sea. There was a harbor, and a} pier extending a considerable way into | the sea, so that the fishing smacks | _might lie there at all states of the} tide. ? A » Having noted the general arrange- ment of the place, and in particular | the way, to the pier? so that, if neces- | sary, I might be able to find it in the | dark without asking the way, I strolled on past the outskirts of the little town, and, crossing the sand hills I reached ‘ the beach and threw mysel fdown on the pebbles ‘ ; I was quite alone. A short way off | the’ keelson and the mighty ribs of a ship, stranded there long ago, protrud- ed from the sand, as.if they refused to be buried, after the manner of smaller things. The, timbers were bleached with the snows of fifty winters; they looked gaunt’and eerie, even in the swnmer sunlight. ; A haze had come over the bright face of the sky, and presently the sea was hidden and clouds began to gather .able to see over them. | Mitschka’s agent. you that. Now, you needn’t deny it,” from the east. It looked as if it might rain. Lying there alone, I could pot but think of the strange and doubtful ad- veuture on which I was bound. I did not so much as know the quarter of the globe to which I was about to travel. I was about to cut myself off from the society of decent people, to abandon the safeguards which the law | provides for those who travel jn the beaten paths of life, and cast my let with men who were the enefnies of so- | ciety, and who probably considered themselves. Bound by no law human or Divine. It was quite within the bounds of possibility that in conse quence of some quarrel, or some refus- al on my part to carry out their com. mands, I might be made a prisoner and kept in confinement for years. I had nothing to trust to but the wora of men who, by their very position, must be accustomed to be a law unto themselves, Nor had I the slightest idea what was the nature of that service which the Committee wished me to perform for them—the service for which I was to ransom the Prince. Von Mitschka had told me that it might be called a crime, or not, according to the views | of the speaker. This was as much as to say that in the eye of the law it would be a crime. Most likely, I thought, it weuld turn out to be some desperate deed which honor and con- science would forbid my touching. In that case the Prince must remain in prison, and in that case the hope of winning Irene would vanish among the mists from which it had sprung. But it would be something to be able to tell Irene that I had seen her father, and carry a message to her from him. And here I may take the opportunity of saying that I had strictly adhered to | the injunctions laid on me in the letter of instructions I had received from the ~Committee, except in one point. Besides my change of clothing my lit- tle bag held a serviceable revolver and a score or two of cartridges. I scarce- ly thought it was necessary to take them, especially as I am, for a light- weight, pretty good at my fists; but it was impossible for me to tell what dangers I might be exposed to before I found myself in Old England again, and I decided that it would be safer to have the weapon with me. 1 had knocked the ashes out of my pipe for the second time, and was de- bating with myself whether I shou!d return to the inn for a cup of tea. when I noticed a shadow, such would be cast by a man’s head, moving above the shadow line thrown by the } sand hillocks upon the beach. It dis- appeared, and I thought no more of it till, in surmounting the nearest sand lull, I descried the figure of my friend the mineral water man, stealing off across the dunes. My first thought was that the com- mercial, having nothing better to ¢o, had come in search of me for the sake of my company, and, having failed to find me, was now on his way back to the inn. But then it occarred to me that, when I saw the shadow of his head appearing above the shadow cast | by the sand hills, he must have been It was almost certain that he had observed me, and had tried, by stealing off in the direc- tion of the inn to conceal the fact that he had been watching me. The ques- tion was—had this watching any spe cial meaning? In other words, was the fellow a paid spy, or had he been haunting my steps through mere idle curiosity? I can searcely describe the strange feeling that came over me as I put this question to myself. I had kept my &éx- periences in Russia, and my present enterprise a profound secret from ev- eryone in England. It followed that if this man were really shadowing me, he had beeii employed by someone who took his instructions from St. Pete: burg. It was possible, it was ever probable, that the Russian police had a Spy in the household of Prince Kro peu It was likely, therefore, that they knew that I had received a com- munication of some kind from the con- spirators. They must suspect the French yalet—I had suspected him my. self—and they might easily connect visit to the house with my sudden de- i parture for London. It was quite pos- sible that they had sent instructions through the Russian embassy to en- gage a grivate detective to keep an eye on my movements, in case I should be a link of communication between the Nihilists in St. Petersburg and their friends in England. By follow- ing me they might hope to learn who these friends were, and where they were to be found. Clearly it would never do to allow the detective to see me on the pier at z o'clock in the morning—the time and place appointed for my meeting Von My first business must be to discover whether this com- mercial traveler was ip truth a spy or not. And it struck me as a suspicious circumstance that he should come to an out-of-the-way vollage like Brier- wick to sell mineral waters. In order to set my mind at rest about this man’s true occupation, I walked | rapidly back to the inn, passing him on the way, and when I got there I questioned the barmaid rather closely | ccncerning an imaginary friend of { mine, whom I said I had expected to find at the inn, FG I then went into the coffee room and closed the door, as soon as the figure of the traveler appeared on the porch. After a time he came into the coffee room, and began a conversation about nothing with me, which E cut short as soon as I could. After paying a visit to my bed room, to throw the man off his guard, I went again to the barmaid, | and soon ascertained that this visitor, who had seen me talking with her had | been (as I expected) trying to pump her as to what I had been saying to her. This was enough for me, and I) thought it advisable to take the bull by the horrs. H Going back to the coffee room, I; walked up to the traveler, and said to him: - “Are you a detective from Scotland Yard?” “I am nothing of the kind!” he ex- claimed, angrily. “In that case, let me advise you to go back to London by the next train. You will give up spying upon me, or you will get the most severe threshing ; you ever had in your life. I promise IT went on, as he tried to disown tha’ he had been guilty of “shadowing” me rou followed me down to the beach skulking behind the sand hills; anc you have been trying to make the bar | maid tell you what [ had said to her ; L repeat that, if you don’t give up ai once 1 will thrash you until you can’t stand.” But the little man was not without pluck. He refused to be bullied, and I saw that I would have some trouble | before I got rid of him. To appeal to | the solitary policeman at Brierwick to | determitie whether the detective had, he claimed to have, a legal right to | follow me, as long as he did not inter. fere with me, was obviously absurd. To be sure, I might induce the man to follow me to some lonely spot and ad- minister the thrashing he richly de- served. But the idea of doing this—of | beating a man who, very likely, would not try to defend himself—was revolt- ing; and, besides, the consequences might be even more detrimental to the success of my plans than the espionage {1 feared. If I were laid by the heels | in a country gaol, I might say “good- bye” to all ideas of ransoming Prince Kropenskl. ; After thinking a few moments I turned upon the spy and said to him: “Look here, what's your name?” , sir, is my name. , then. As you have already -ertained, I suppose, I cannot yet is whether I shall return to town by | the last train to-night, or stay here for j some time. If E find that [ can get | away to-night, you may follow me to London or not, just as you choose. So long as you den’t interfere with me. But if my friend arrives+—I mean, if I don't leave for London to-night, you !had better not remain here with 2ny idea of playing the spy upon me. For your own sake I say, you'd better not. | Your employers, whoever they are, are not at all likely to pay you enough to recompense you for the suffering such a line of conduct would entail on you. That’s all I have to say on the sub- jeet.”. | “You said something about my em- ployers,” said Davis, after a pause. “Do you know who they are?” “No; and I don’t care.” ; “I am retained by the Russ | ernment,” said the spy, proudly. “Very likely.” “My instructions are to watch you, and follow you, even in the event of ; your leaving England, reporting upon | the persons you meet, and so on.” an gov- / “You are frank, at all events,” I | said. “Iam,” said the spy. “But not with- ; out a I have further imstruc- | tions that it is possible you may be taken by some strangers to a certain place; and in that case I am to tell you that the Government of the Czar would be prepared to pay at a very high rate for any information.” “Indeed!” “Yes. For information that would be really reliable, I am told I may go | so far as to offer £1,000.” I burst into a laugh. “My good sir,” I said, “I know a Iit- tle more of the ways of the Govern- | ment of the Czar than you imagine. [ know, at all events that the sum you ‘have named is a ridiculously smal | one.” 2 “Well, under circumstances, we might, perhaps, be inclined to go as high as £2,000.” “And you expect me to risk my life, as well as betray my companions, for that? Upon my word, you are scarce- ly complimentary.” “What would you say Come now?” mean what I say, I may tell you that [ am morally convinced that the Rus sian offi who gave you your in- structions, gave you authority to offer me as much as £10,000.” This seemed to take Davis’ breath away. tte pretended that £10,000 was quite out of the question, and I stuck to my | peint in such a way as to convince him that I meant business. The end of it was that he gave in, and promised, on behalf of his employers, that I should have £10,000 for such informa- i tion as would enable the Russian gov- ‘ernment to find the place te which it | was expected I would be taken. From his guarded manner of speaking I felt certain that Davis had told the true reason of the anxiety of the Russian Government to obtain the information for which they were willing to pay so dear. He supposed that nothing was | intended but an arrest of some of the Nihilist conspirators. “We'll think about it,” said I. “You |ean’t expect an answer off-hand. In fact, there are others—you understand —that I must work with, if the thing is done. And that reminds me—they. will want something beyond my bare word show the amount of money that is to be shared. Just give me a note to say that you are ready to give me £10,000 for the information desired; that will do.” “IT needn’t sign it, I suppose?” he asked, hesitating, with the pen in his hand. “Oh, dear, no! Say ‘On behalf of the Russian Government,’ and put your in- itials. That will be enough for me.” The paper was signed and, after glancing at it, I put it in my pocket. “Now, understand,” said I, “I must have perfect freedom of action in the meantime.” : “Not until you accept our terms. That is not to be thought of.” “Very good. At present we are friendly enemies—is that it? I am to do my best to carry out my plans in- dependently of you, and if you attempt to interfere with me, ou must look out for youself—that’s all!” To this Davis made no answer. I rang the hell, ordered dinner at 6 o'clock, and took up a week-old news: ‘paper. (To be continued.) Indicatio! “Do you b'lave in frinology?” asked Mr. Dolan, “meanin’ be that the sigh- ence iy tellin’ a man’s charackter be ‘the bumps an ‘is head.” “Ivy coorse.” answered Mr. Rafferty. “There’s nothin’ gives a better clue to a man’s habits than lumps, black eyes, | to £3,000? , Watch your heels and have them re- paired at the first indication of wear- “I say that £10,000 would be wearer | ing off at one side. Nothing so dis- j the mark.” ory, < figures your gait or looks more untidy fe aR as cae pounds? You must] +nan run-down heels, besides the shoe | “Not at all, And to show you that I soon loses its shape where the heel \ patches iv shtickin’ plashter, an’ the rist iy sich signs.”—Washington Star. NEW WAY OF EARNING FEES. | Doctors Forbidding Renewal of Pre- j scriptions Without Orders. i From the New York Sun: Only a ° short time ago several physicians prominent in a special branch of prac- tice met to decide in what way they ! could best bring to the attention of a colleague a question that interested them greatly. This physician was al- most the best known in his specialty in the city, but his charges, in view of his reputation, have always been so moderate that his associates felt the need ‘of protesting. But it was decided not to protest, and the physi- cian received only an intimation that his fees sometimes astonished his brothers in the profession. One physi- cian in town has recently introduced a practice which is said to be imcreas- ing in popularity with the profession, and it is likely that the custom will be adopted widely by those physicians who have authority enough to at- tempt anything so novel. This doctor has his patients take the prescription to a druggist who is forbidden by the terms of his agreement to renew the prescription except upon a written or- der from the doctor. No patient can get his bottle or box refilled unless he brings the new prescription, which means, of course, another visit to the doctor. The bottles are of a size that lasts for a week. In some cases the same medicines are renewed week af- ter week, but with the order that comes only from the visit to the doc- tor. They are changed in few cases. The profession has not protested against this new fashion as yet, and it is not likely that it will. But it is only the influential and authoritative among the physicians that are able to attempt it. TREATMEMT FOR THE SHOES. How a Little Care Will Keep Them Looking Orderly. Winter is a difficult season of the year for the careful woman who is particularly neat about her trimly shod feet. Snow is as disfiguring as mud on nicely polished leather and rubbers certainly do not add to their cleanly appearance. But a little care will keep them in orderly niceness. When you remove your heavy street boots, don’t toss them away in the closet all rumpled. Take time to stretch the uppers a trifle to straight- en out the lacing wrinkles. Do the same with the tongue. Brush off the dust and if they are damp put them where a current of air can thoroughly dry them. Banana skins make an ex- cellent dressing and keep the leather soft. They are especially nice for cleaning enameled or patent leather. If your feet perspire freely use a good antiseptic powder freely dusted in the’ shoes; it will rest the feet and save the stocking. The grime and dust in the shoestring are very hard on the hands, as the dirt is ground into the flesh where the strings are drawn up tightly. Don’t be stingy with shoe- strings. Your dealer will furnish them free of charge, so change them often. Besides being clean, they add greatly to the appearance of the shoe. turns and will break where the wonted strain is occasioned by twisted shoe. un- the Young Capron’s Epitaph. At the engagement of Las Guasimas, says the New York Sun, Capt. Ayyin K. Capron, of the Rough Riders, son of Capt, Capron, Sr., was killed. His hat was placed to cover his face, a black rubber poncho thrown over the body. Only the rough, mudclotted shoes pro- truded from beneath the poncho. Word was sent to Capt. Capron, Sr., and he soon reached the scene of the engage- ment. White-faced, but upright, he stood for a moment looking down at that black, forbidding outline in a by- path of a thicket—all that remain of the last of three promising sons. Stooping, he lifted the hat from the dead boy’s face, and gazing at him with moist eyes said; “Well done poy!” Then replacing the hat he turned on his heel and marched stiffly away. PERSONALS, Two grandsons of President Polk have seats in the present congress. They are R. K. Polk of Danville, Ky., and his cousin, James K. Polk of Ridgway, Pa. General Bartle, who has been in the state department for fifty-four years, the record for long service, has known intimately all the presidents since Polk, who appointed him. Calixto Garcia second, a 13-year-old son of the Cuban general, has entered the West Chester (Pa.) State Normal school. For the last three years he has been a pupil in the public school and a boarding school in New York. Vice President Hobart patronizes a Chinese laundry in his Paterson, N. J., home, and the Celestial proprietor is proud of his distinguished customer, ! who some time ago secured for him a signed photograph of President Me- Kinley, which now adorns the shop’s . window. Forain, the French caricaturist, was. recently asked whether he found de- | pravity the deeper among the rich or the poor. “There is no such thing as depravity," he replied, with all the y disdain he could put into his voice. . ISERIES RSs EERE PRESSES 20 SSSR aR: RRL nS EE Sp WAL A RS a : ‘ “At the top it is diseased nerves; at 4— the bottom hnnger.” _ Blind men outnumber blind women by two to one, : t Not for Publication. The gharled and stunted editor bent over his copy. “This exhibit of folly on the part of Lieut. Hobson is most reprehensible. What a grown man can see in such an idiotic practice is something sensible people cannot fathom.” The editor drew back and looked at the last paragraph. As he did so te moistened his feverish lips with his to- baceo-tinted tongue. “Lord!” he said, with an envious smile, “that Hobson is a lucky dog!’— Cleyeland Plain Dealer. Germany and Asia Minor. It is inevitable that Asia Minor shall eventually, pass from Mohammedan- ism, and whether Germany accom- plishes the task or not, the sultan mus yleld to a Chris’ nation. It is just as inevitable that disease of the digest- ive organs must yield to Hostetter’s Stomach Bitte which are usually called dyspepsia, constipation and bil- iousness. Read the Advertisements. You will enjoy this publication uch better if you will get into the habit of they will and réading the advertisement afford a most amusing study, will put you in the v f gettin excellent bargains. Our advertisers reliable; they send what they adver- lise. When the children get their feet wet and take cold give them a hot foot bath, a bowl of hot drink, a dose of Ayer’s Cherry Pectoral, and put them to bed. chances are they will be all right in the morning. Con- tinue the Cherry Pectoral a few days, until all cough has dis- appeared. Id coughs are also cured; ‘we mean the coughs of bron- chitis, weak throats and irritable lungs. Even the hard coughs | of consumption are always made easy and frequently cured by the continued use of \yer’s Cherry Deciorai Every doctor knows that wild cherry bark is the best remedy known to medical: science for soothing and healing inflamed throats: and lungs. Put one of Dr. Ayer’s Cherry Pectoral Plasters over your lungs The Best Medical Advice Freol We now have some of the: most emi. nent physicians in the United States. Unusual opportunities and long experi- ence eminently fit them for givin; medical advice. Write freely ulars in your case. Address, Dr. J. C. AYER, Lowell, Mass. you ‘the “Nothing but wheat; what you miei! call a sea of wheat,” is what was sa by a lecturer speaking of Western Can * ada. For particulars as to routes, railway fares, ete, apply to Su- perintendent of Immigration, Depart- ment Interior, Ottawa, Canada, or to Ben Davies, 154 East Third St., St. oe or T. O. Currie, Stevens Poi Ss. . . } JOHN W.MOBR} Washington, D. i PENSIO. 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