Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, January 12, 1901, Page 6

|HAND # EEELEEEE EEE EE LEY | HE lpy aNaw ¢ i | UNSEEN : ¢ A Slory of the Secret Socicly Known as the “Ragged = + Thirteen” + 7 0 @ By Edward Hughes. “Mir. Courtney,” said I, “will you fake Mrs. Cawston?” (the doctor's wife), and it was a revelation in the art of bowing to behold the grace with ~which the Irishman’s arm was offered. ~ Colonel Hawtree took Nora, Maurice ‘ gyorville the colonel’s daughter, Tra- vers Miss Cawston, and the doctor and my clerical relative, who was beam- {eg upon us with a churchly smile, gave weight with dignity to the pro- cession, the doctor scaling nearly six- teen stone, and Anguish assuming a ‘mien that would have done credit to @ bishop. incle,” with the ut- most unction, though his Church training had been specially directed ‘to that end. Mrs. Cawston ejaculated “men,” deftly arranged her serviette and prerared for action in a matter-of- fact way that plainly intimated, “I’ve come to enjoy my dinner. You peo- le may talk as much as you like.”” Mi. said grace ourtney’s decorum vanished with his first few glasses of wine, and he help- ed the doctor's daughter in a very ereditable attempt to blow up the social magazine. “T was really afraid,” said the young - @ady, for the edification of the com pany in gene that we were going to sit down thirteen in number. That would have been unlucky, wouldn't | et?” ‘Unlucky, miss?” said old Courtney. “Maybe you're not a cribbage-player, @r you'd remember the Ragged Thir- een counts one more than twelve. ” Wow, if you only thirten to | win, wouldn't you t Bold that nu 9 “What curious name,” said Miss <awston, “‘The Rarged Thirteen! E did not de to look at Nora or Trave but at the very moment ‘when the words that bore such-a ter- | for so many of his | Mr. Courtney’s lips ce that shot from | mother to son, and I had not the slight- | Jest doubt that our guests numbered one of the most dangerous criminals \am iEnglard. Jf _ But with this thought came the re- flection that it would require all our / cunning to fasten his evil deeds upon } whim in such a way that Justice would ‘be satisfied. At pr nt our only ev- dence against him a hand, sup- j posed to be identified by a model / made by himself, a scent procurable by anybody, and a glance that might fhave been meant to express any emo- fion whatever; and indeed D’Orville, 7 searcely giving Miss Cawston time to | ficance s fell from ET saw the quic nish her re rk, broke inwith:— “My dear uncle, cribbage is a game nly played by the lower and middle lasses in England, and I dare venture to wager that no one here understands @t but yourself.” ‘ “More's pity, Maurice—more's 1 the pit utiful game, mad- em” (thi Cawston, who paid Kittle attention to his remarks, for her fideas of ‘ me” were strictly confined to the partridges that loomed ahead fn the menu.) “It’s really elegant when when you see it played, asit used to be et the castle, with golden pegs and @n ivory board.” “Golden pegs?” the lady managed to @cho between her mouthfuls. “To be sure, ma’am. And why wouldn't they, and they the owners of the soil as as they could see ! § for miles around?” and Mr. Courtney, ‘warming to his work as the wine stim- ulated his imagination, converted the astle into a palace and his ancestors | 4nto Kings of Connaugh. The colonel and Nora were getting | on beautifully, but Miss Cawston had | to make her own running with Trav- -ers, and pre itly, giving him up in de- ed to any and every one whose aitention she could attract. When the es left us the wine amade no long tarrying at Courtney’s ~ elbow, and I could see that Anguish was helping him on his way to the oint at which his tongue might be expected to wag f: y- “And why is it, , if I may be so wude as to ask the question,” said An- e@uish, “that y descendant of Prin- es, live in this out-of-the-way place? ‘You ought to be in the halls of your fathers.” “Faith, you m well ask,” was the reply. “To be sure I ought to be there, Mfr. Trema¥ne; but there’s people——” “Uncle,” said DOrville— and if looks ould have killed, he would have slain Ss! nele, isn’t it rather bad@ form to wash your soiled linen in pub _ Sic?” ‘Soiled linen! W on earth are * you talking about?” said Courtney, and it was eyident that the wine was @etting the better of his discretion. } “Soiled linen! If I had spilt some wine \ @p it—snd I ask your pardon, Mr. \ Wremanyne, for wasting good liquor— @ure, I gave seven-and-six for this gare shirt, and if you can show one ef purer linen, seven-and-six is yours, gny son.” And even Travers joined in the laugh that ran around the table, fm spite of the black looks of D’Or- wie. And then Mr. Courtney went on with etcries and reminiscences, while An- guqish egged him on, and Col. Haw- €ree smoked in silence and stared at .fim from time to time as though he ‘were some strange animal. ‘Very amusing fellow, your friend,” @aid the colonel, as we made our way fo,the drawing room; and certainly fourtney did his best to keep up his eputation when he joined the ladies. He took his coffee with the air of a ford; related his adventures when he ‘went “on tour’ and brought home g@ome of the “ra’l mocha”—no less— @rom Arabia; told Mrs. Cawston the mist comical stories in his extensive ®@epertoire, at which she would most @ikely ‘have laughed had not her din- @er“ invited” s!umber; sang the “Lit- @le'Brown Jug” in a cracked voice that d @uggested the probable fate of the oe ae ~ utensil had it belonged to him; and tried DOrville’s temper to the utmost. most. Nora’s eyes called me to her side. “Let us get away from this,” she said. “Send Maurice to me, and I'll make him take us home. See if he isn’t going to show them how ‘the boys’ on the estate dance the Irish jig! Oh, my heart's broke with the shame oritr” “Yl take care of him,’ I said, and as I left her side, D’Orville took my place, and within ten minutes our guests had made their adieux, and we were at liberty to draw round the fire and compare notes. “Well?” said I Anguish. “Well, Jack!” he replied. “You no- tice the mother’s glance when the old gentleman came out with the Ragged Thirteen. It was almost too sudden for some of us, and Mr. Traver very nearly put a spoonful of soup into his waistcoat pocket. I don’t think for a moment that it was an arranged affair, and the fact that the mention of the words that so nearly upset Mr. Travers should have drawn even a glance from te lady proves to me that if Maurice @’Orville would tell us the size of his glove, we should know how to fit the hand that you saw at Kendal. We've the pull of them, for if he suspected you, or any of us, of knowing him he wouldn't have set foot in this. You must cultivate the Courtneys un- til you’re as much at home in their place as in your own. And its my opinion that when you know the ac gcendant of the Connaught Princes well enous he’ll give you the oppor- tunity of making friends of the mam- mon of unrighteousness, and if he once becomes your debtor you can squeeze what he knows out of him. Then the young lady might help us. She got to D’Orville’s box once, and she may manage it again, or, better still, put you in the w of doing so. There’s no love lost between her and her re- lations, and if you could do anything to make the father go straight you would put the daughter under an ever lasting obligation.” interrogatively, to And so we sat and talked, each one | suggesting some, scheme whereby we might circumvent D‘Orville, only te abandon it immediately on the pro- posal of another that seemed more subtle or more daring. Graves and his wife had retired, and, except our voices,,not a sound was to be heard, when suddenly ther came the tinkle of a bell—so faint, indeed, that we stood waiting for it to be re- peated. - “It’s the front-door bell,” I said, as the gound reached us again. ‘Who on earth can it be at this time of night?” And, without waiting for Anguish or Travers, I hurried into the hall and threw open the door, and there was Nora, with a wrap over her head, and a flush on her face that made her look more witching than ever. CHAPTER VIII. Diamond Cut Diamond. So surprised was I that for a few seconds i stood staring at her. Then I drew her gently into the hall and closed the door, and as I did so I could see Anguish and Travers quietly slip- ping kk into the dining room. “Nora!’ I said, throwing propriety to the winds and holding her hand in mine. “Nora! what's the matter?” “The black fits on him again,” she said. “Will you come back with me? I'll tell you why as we run.” I caught up a hat and coat and fol- lowed her down the drive, and as she skimmed over the frost-bound road she seemed like a fair, that came from the was swinging low. caught her and drew mine. “Stop and tell me,” I said, “while you have breath to do it, how I am to help you,” and the charm of being alone with her there, under the spangled sky, half-full moon that At the gate 1 her arm within and the pleasure it gave me to think | that she had come to me in her trou- ble, made me hope that, in her anxiety, her explanation would be, so halting that I might have to ask her to repeat it. “It’s my father he’s threatening!” she panted, as she broke away from me; “maybe he’s killed him by now. Ah! don’t stop!” and off she sped again, and so light of foot was she that I had to make considerable effort to keep with her. She did not slacken her speed until she reached the gate ot Connemara Cottage. “They're in yon room,” she whisper- ed, pointing to the side of the house where some struggling gleams of light came through the Venetian blinds and fell on’ the smooth turf of the lawn. “They think I'm in bed,” she said, softly, when her breath had come back; “but I heard him ask father to come up to his room; so I slipped down and iistened, and then I got frightened, and—and so I came for you. I left the back door open, and we can creep up the stairs and get into the bath room, that’s just behind where they are. But | —before you come with me, you'll promise thot you won't interfere unless I-ask you?” I whisrered back my promise, and, taking me by the hand and bidding me tread lightly. she le? me under the win- dow from which the light was coming. My shoes were so thin that I followed her up the stairs without making a sound, and presently found myseif standing beside her in what seemed to be a bath room. A door that was a few inches ajar led into a dressing- room and beyond this was Maurice d’Orville’s bed-chamber, as I after- wards learnt, and in it an angry dis- cussion that had waxed so exciting that neither of the speakers was taking the precaution of lowering his voice. We couud hear every word that was in the dim light | | chose to speak to him fair and civil, | wits? | ville had said with regard to my pas- said, for the farther door leading from the dressing-room was open, as well as that near which we stood. Courtney was speaking. “Why would you have me do this,” he was saying, “and I only knowing him this short while? I can’t do it, Maurice, and if I brought myself to it, ‘twould be little use, for these English- men are careful with their purse-strings that won't bear undoing too often.” “Listen to me,” said D’Orville, “and don’t put such a whine into what you. have to say when you answer me. I've told that I must have a thousand be- fore this day month, and I look to you to get it. If you don’t there'll be those on your trail that, when I lift my fin- ger, wili think no more of sending’ you to perdition than I would of killing 4 butterfly.” “Sure, Maurice, it’s a hard man you are. Look here now, I beg and pray of you——” “There! stop that! If you were to hammer at the gates of Heaven with your prayers until you woke up the echees of perdition, I wouldn't alter what I’ve said one jot. Get the money or take the consequences!” “And who are you,” the elder burst out, “to stand there with the name of Heaven so pat on your lips, threaten- ing me, that’s old enough to be your father—me, that knew you when you were a lad and weren’t too proud to called Maurice Lennon?” “If you ever call me by that name again,” said the other, “I'll throttle you. I’ve told you that I’ve reasons for dropping it. You've put me in a passion cnee to-night, and you got’ off with your life. Don’t upset me again, because I might remember if you were out of the way I needn’t be asking you for money. I could help myself. If you don’t get it as I suggest, couldn’t you screw come more out of any of the tenants?” “Suré, Maurice, you know I daren't | set foot in my‘own place beyond, for fear of a bullet from some of the poor fellows I’ve racked to keep you going. I’ve told Nora all manner of lies about the way I’m behaving to them, and I'm getting sick of it. See, look, why don’t you get this Tremayne to join the cause? You've a tongue in your head that would wheedle Old Nick, if you though when the temper’s on you, "tis little you care what company you're in. Teil him the wrongs our country’s suf- | fering, and that it’s men like him we want to help us, and, if he likes, that | we can put him in parliament. Be- sides, look what a pleasure ’twould be to you to pluck an Englishman. But it’s black-hearted I must be getting to | advise you like this. Ah! why did you | ever drag me into it at all? Why dia I_let you know?” “There! stop your questions. I’ts getting late, and I’m tired. This idea of yours is worth thinking over; but I shouldn’t be the one to persuade him— you fnust do it. Kecp at him, as you | suggest, and dangle the parliamentary | bait in front of his nose. He might | take it, and if he doesn’t, you've some: | thing I know he will snap at!” “What's that?” “What's that? Why, where are your Couldn’t you see where his eyes | were all the time Nora was in the room?” “Nora? What do you mean? She's the one being left that loves me. I won't have you drag her into my mis- | ery—not if it was to save all Ireland!” “Who is talking of harming her? 1 say this: Tremanye is madly in love with her. You’ve only to encourage | him a little, and he'll tell you so, and then the rest is easy, and the money’s yours for the asking. “So you’d have me thousand pounds?” “Aye! What’s the happiness of a chit like that compared to the sweets of revenge that I’ve waited for for all these years? What's she, when she’ weighed in the balance against all Ireland? Once for all, I'm going away to-morrow. I shall come back this day month, and if you haven't the money, I'll ruin you, body and soul, and then Nora, will be lef: to my tender mercies. Now, go. Don’t stand there looking as if you'd murder me!” There was silence for the space of a few seconds. Then we heard the door of the farther room open and close, and | presently the key was turned in the lock. I drew Nora away gently to the back door, and then I took her in my arms and covered her face with kisses, and I let her know that every word D'Or- sell her for a sion for her was true. But she was | shaken with a storm of sobbing that threatened to bring someone upon us, and when, at last I had soothed het into a quieter frame of mind, I whis- pered to her to meet me the next day at the old place in the wood at noon, and, as I slipped®way, I could hear her sighing, softly: om the shame of it! The shame of it I had crept past the lighted window, when Anguish and Travers joined me. “We've been watching the windows,” said Anguish, ‘and we could see the two shadows pass backwards and for- wards. Hugh was for breaking in. But come along; wait until we get home to talk.” f In a very few minutes we found our- selves once more seated around the fir “Now,” said Anguish, “have you any- thing worth telling?” I told them what had happened, ex- cept that I did not mention that Nora was to be the security offered for the loan of a thousand pounds. I let them understand, however, that, in all prob ability, I should be asked to lend such a sum, and we came to the conclusion that, according as events shaped them=- selves, so should we settle as to wheth- er I should part with the money or not. We might, by withholding it, embar- rass D‘Orville to such an extent that he would be unable to carry out his nefarious schemes; but then, again, by letting him have the cash, we might be supplying him with the rope that would eventvally hang him. Anguish was pleased, though he did not explain why, when I told him that D’Orville’s real name was Lennon, It was late when we broke up our conference, but I lay thinking for hours of the things that I had overheard, and of my meeting with Nora on the mor- w, and I could only pray for tact to so.conduct myself that I might not of- fend her sensitive nature. When 12 o'clock came and I met her the woods were bathed in the bright winter sunshine that sparkled on the frosted branches, and the keen air was so exhilarating that it had set her face aglow and her eyes sparkling, notwith- standing the trouble that held her. As she gave me her hand her eyes dropped before mine, and there we stood in a silence that grew more and more awkward with every second that passed. “Has he gone?” I asked, at last. “Yes!” she said, softly; “and, oh, why did he ever come to bring all this trouble upon us? Ah! weren’t we hap- py when I was a child, and no one to say a word to anger me. And then he came, and it all changed, and some hold he has over my father drove us from Ireland and home.” “Try and think,” I said, “that happy days will come again. You shall go back to your home, Nora, if the love of my heart can accomplish it. This man has wronged me, perhaps, more than you.” “What do mean?” she said, looking up at me, shyly. “Do you mean by the words he said about you and—and me? Don’t think I believe him. Don’t! If I'd known what he meant to say I'd have let him kill us both before ever I brought you to hear it. I'd have faced him then and there, but that you were with me, and you're man enough not to have let me do it by myself, and he'd have killed you.” Not if I had you to fight for, Nora. Not if you’d give me the right to pro- tect you.” “Stop!” she said, starting back from me. “How can you speak to me like that, or think I’ll listen? Didn’t you hear himself say that you could buy me for a thousand? Did you think I came out to hear you make the offer? You wouldn’t do it, Mr. Tremayne. Thank God, I can trust you.” “But you're not trusting me, Nora. You're talking one moment about my making an offer to buy you,eand the next thanking God that you can put faith in me. Tell me, now, have I any hope, Nora, that you will ever trust me with what I hold dearest in this world—yourself?” I tried to take her hand, but she drew it away, nor would she look at me. “Won't you answer me?” I asked. “Yes, I will answer you, Mr. Tre- mayne, because I think it best that matters should end between you and me, here anf now. If ever I know that you have lent my father this money, I shall never, if I can help it, look upon your face again. I shall never speak to you. Let him do his worst, and do you go your way. Ours is a bad friend- ship to have. It will bring trouble up- on you. It will blight and ruin your life, if it doesn’t take it away-from you altogether. Leave this place, Mr. Tre- mayne!" “JT shall not,” I said. ‘You came to me once by chance. You came to last night of your own free will. And do you think that I shall let this Maurice D'Orville come between us? No, Nora, not if he were forty times the demon he is!” “You don’t know him,” she said. You can’t tell what power he has. There’s something—but, sure, it makes me shiver to speak of it; there’s some- thing, but I can’t tell rightly what it is,” that—that—but I’m afraid to whisper it, even, for fear that it would come to his ears!” . “You can’t tell me more_than’ I know,” I said. “Listen, Nora! This man and I have grappled by the bed- side of one of my dearest friends, and T thwarted him, and he knows it, though he thinks I do not know him. This man has sent my father from me, and, for aught I know or can find out, may have killed him. This man’s doings have, I verily believe, made one of the kindest men on earth a lunatic, and, not satisfied with that, he has killed him, too. I say I know these things, and yet I can’t prove them, and for that I hate him ten-fold more. But, by the God that planted this love I have for you in my heart, he shall not separate us. And I would that all the breezes of heaven might carry my words to his ears!” She gave a low cry at that, and T had barely done speaking, when, close by our side, we heard a slight cough, and out from behind the trunk of an ole oak stepped Mr. John Anguish. “You must forgive me for interrupt- ing you,” he said, lifting his clerical hat, “but in a very few minutes the gentleman you are alluding, to, John. will be so close that the breezes of Heayen wouldn’t have far to carry your message. If you, Miss Courtney, | would slip down that avenue, and you, John, down this, you could both get away without his seeing you, and T think, for the present, it would be best for you to do so. I'll explain matters afterwards. Hurry, now! and leave me here to meditate on the sermon I’ve promised to preach, and meet Mr. Mau- rice when he comes. Hurry! hurry!” and, catching me by the arm, he pushed me away. And, as*Nora van- ished on one side, I made off on the other, though I should dearly have liked to have witnessed that meeting, and seen how “diamond cut diamond.” I had been at home more than an hour before Anguish returned. “hat was a near thing,” he said. “In another five minutes he would have caught you and Miss Nora, and, no matter what story you might have con- cocted, it wouldn't have thrown dust in his eyes.” “But I thought he had gone. Miss Courtney said so.” “Yes; and she believed so. But when you told me last night how you had managed to overhear the family ar- rangements, I felt sure that Mr. D'Or- ville would conclude that there had been some eavesdropping going on. You see, you didn’t dare to shut that bath room door leading on to the stairs, and no doubt he found it open. He had an idea that the lady would meet you in the wood, and if she had been the listener, she might tell you something. So he sent his mother off by train, but he didn’t go himself. I had time be- fore he put in an appearance to ar- range how I should meet him, and the first thing I did was to tramp up and down and obliterate your footsteps, where they showed, here and there, on the frosty grass. And as soon as I saw him slipping from tree to tree, I up- lifted my voice and rehearsed my, ser- mon, with all the fitting gestures and inflecticns, and I was deep in an ex- hortation to my supposed congregation, when he ‘took the floor’ with me, as our Irish friends would say. (To Be Continued.) Nora— , INSOMNIA is a forerunner nervous tration; organism is aie enough to stand up under the strain of sleepless nights? It is plain that nothing in the world can possibly take the place of restful sleep, yet many try to eke out an existence without this sustaining power. Their nerves are in such astate of tension that sleep is an impossibility, jor at best is a series of hideous * dreams. Itisnot strange that physical and mental weakness, amounting ism results. quiet slumber, to a full renewal NERVURA oe Insomnia. Nerves. Dr. Greene’s Makes Health. soon to complete prostration, follows inability tosleep. There is no let-up to the strain. Vital forces are drawn upon, confirmed invalid- The recuperative power of natural sleep is wonderful. Complete physical and mental exhaustion gives place, after a few hours of Dr. Greene’s FOR THE BLOOD AND wo Wrecks the NERVURA of energy. The fatigue of body and mind disappears entirely while all the muscles are strong and the nerves absolutely calm. Sleep is the indication given by Nature as a guide to human plans to restore health. It shows that there are inherent in the wonderful human organism powers of recupera- tion which must have oppor- tunity to assert themselves, Based on this clear demon- stration, Dr. Greene’s Nervura blood and nerve remedy was constructed by Dr. Greene to help Nature combat the ills that attack men and women. What no amount of powerful drugs could possibly accom- plish, can be successfully and promptly effected by healthy blood and nerves, the kind of blood which flows in strength- ening flood to every portion of the body, the condition of nerves which permits awak- ened Nature to seize its op- parcanity to restore to perfect ealth. Mrs. FLORENCE TAYLOR, of 4 Courtland Place, Brid; I Courtia Igeport, Coun., “For four years I was troubled with nervous debility and hysteria ina most aggravated form. It caused sleeplessness and mental depression, and for months I was confined to my |. My constitution wasted and I totally lost my appetite. I had many doctors. but they failed to give me apy relief. I was advised to try Dr. Teene’s Nervura blood apd merve remedy. Iwas in a terrible condition when T began its use, and almost immediately there was a wonderful change came over me. I regained my appetite, the dizziness in my head departed ; it renewed my interest in life and made me feel, in fact, like another person. After taking six Dottles I thankfully proclaim self strong and well, ‘Those ele belies did hes me what hundreds of lollars an numerous failed to do.” Eeyecens Dr. Greene’s Ner- vura is the Remedy that Cures. Pull explanation of these matters given by Dr. Greene on request, w' out charge. Dr. Greene's address is 35 West 14th Street, New York City. Consultation with him either by call or letter is absolutely free. Kipling in Spanish. Kipling’s “Plain Tales From the Hills” have been translated into Span- ish by Don Augustin F. de Laserna, formerly vice president of the chamber of deputies. The translation is said to be an excellent one, and there are now few literary persons in Spain unac- quainted with the British author in question. Piso’s Cure cannot be too highly spoken of as acough cure.—J. W. O'BRigN, 322 Third Ave., N., Minneapolis, Minn., Jan. 6, 1900, Not a Sign of Affection, “Hawkins is very fond of his horse, isn’t he?” “Why, no; he hates him.” “That’s queer. I saw him riding in the park the other day, and he had his arms about the animal’s neck.”—Cleve- land Plain Dealer. ns TO CURE A COLD IN ONE DAY. Take Laxative Bromo QuiSink TaBLets. All druggists refund the money if it fails to cure. E. W. Grove’s signature is on the box. 25c. The Swiss cabinet consists of seven members, each of which draws £480 per annum. KiD-NE-OIDS CURE BACKACHE. 4 Her Directions. A Fifth avenue photographer is tell- ing the story of an incident which amused him, though it involved a compliment which he missed. A woman came into the building and asked if the best photographer in the city had a studio there, “with a hair- dresser’s establishment under it.” IN 3 OR:4 YEARS AN INDEPENDENCE ASSURED If you take up your homes in Western Can- ada, the land of plenty Tilustrated ‘pembhier giving experiences farmers who have be- come wealthy in Liga ing wheat, reports of delegates, etc., and full information as to reduced railway rates can be had on ee to the Superintendent of Immigration, Department of Interlor. Ottawa, Canada, or to Ben Davies, 154% East Third St, St ¥aul, ‘ne *yede bear is out evesy dime: combination COM pontttvety revolutionize corn growing. Billion lion Dollar Grass. Stone otha beracre, iret First cropeix week Ria par ow pot ELECTRIC BELT pape | et thisadoutond aber SEARS, ROEBUGK & GO., Chicago. Catholic Agents OUTFIT FREE WANTED—Men or Wi SOMETHING NEW. Writs a once.” Address” C. Pe & L. CO, Caxton Bidg., Chicago, Nt ped he att PATENTS == =a DROPS Yet oe ee 5 bsg wt testimonials and 10 ‘H. GREKS’S 8058, Bor aw ‘dastee Ce PISO" Ss. CURE FOR Good a 4 ad e ¢ ee a eR Re SE REEL LCN NE a ROR | ee > —— — nen re