Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, January 26, 1901, Page 6

| “temper, ‘Ber equal at white sauce. HAND #& BY AN # § UNSEEN : ¢ A Slory of the Secret Socicly Known as # the “Ragged » 0 @ Thirteen” 7 7 7 @ By Edward Hughes. : : 3 CHAPTER IX. (Continued. At 6 o'clock the next evening I called Graves into the study. “f want you to take charge of this packet,” I said, “and in this envelope yeu wil! find directions as to what you ere to do with it. If Iam not home by €6e@'clock to-morrow morning, open the eavelope and do what the enclosed let- ‘ter tells you. If I am back before that ‘hour, you can return the packet and envelope unopened. Do you under- atand?” “Yes, sir,” said he, somewhat aston- “shed, and handling the papers deli- “If you're not here, sir, at 6 @’clock to-morrow morning, I'm to open this envelope, and the paper inside will ¢ell me what to do with the packet. If you are here, I am to return them to ou.” “That's it, exactly; Graves. I shan’t Ge in to dinner, so tell Mr. Travers not ‘te wait for me, and—oh, by the way, you needn’t tell him that I may be out ate to-night—and you're not to say a ‘word of what I’ve asked you to do, even to your wife “Very good, sir,” and, carrying oft @he packet, he left me to prepare my- eelf for an adventure upon the like of hich I had never embarked. I had already written to Nora, and @uciosed the letter in the packet, and when, presently, I had donned the old- eat suit I could come by, I slipped out ef ¢he house and started for Conne- ~mara Cottage. The night was exactly @ndertaking, for it was so dark that I @ould not see a yard before me. The wind rose at intervals to well-nigh half @ gale, to sob itself away in a whisper @mong the bare tree-tops, and over- “@ead the driving scud had shut out the @tars, while every now and then a few gs drops of rain pattered down, as -@arnest of the storm that was brewing. fhe Connemara kennels were empty, @e that I had no need to “beware of the .* and without much difficulty 1 agveped my way to the water butt, and -@e on to the roof, and, counting the ‘@fies, I found the third one, whice came ‘way with a little manipulation. Tak- Seg advantage of the hubbub raised by the wind when it was howling its loud- est, I removed some others, and @queezed myself in between the raft- ees. The floor upon which I trod was -gufficiently firm for me to stand upon €, or to move quietly without it giving ately. suited to the -@e@ creaking, and when I had fixed the tiles as securely as possible, I crept *@erward on hands and knees until I felt ‘the partition. And I lay there in the black darkness q@aiting for the hour of meeting. I seemed to have lain there for hours, and to have gone over at least a hun- @red methods of keeping Nora’s father @ut of the trouble, when I heard some @ne softly open a door below. Then ee: the sound of a match being truck. and presently a light flickered ap, and a few rays fell through the marrow slits in the partition, and one @f these tiny apertures was so close te my eye that, without moving, 1 @ould see the greater part of the room ‘Below. Ewe men had_ entered—Maurice @ Orville and Courtney. “Now,” said the former, “you are sure @hat matters are safely arranged in- etde?” “Yes: everything. I’ve crept upstairs amd the cook’s snoring fit to shake the wafters.” “Ah! she’s a queer body,” said D’Or- ‘wilie. “Seems to have a deuce of a though I’ve never come across Now, do you @tay here, and I'll go and look these men up. I think we may safely bring @hern in all at once”. When he was left alone Courtney "Began to walk slowly up and down the ‘geom, in the center of which were five hairs and a table with writing ma- @erials upon it, and as he paced to and ‘@re he gave utterance to his thoughts fm tones that, low as they were, easily eached me. “Why was I ever drawn into this?” @e muttered. “It was his .weedling *teague that led me on, until I'm so eep in it now that I can’t get out of @ with my life. But, so help me @feaven! I won't be a party to assas- @ination! I'll say my say against that ‘this very night—aye, even if Number *@ne is here himself; and if they kill -mne—weil, I'd be well out of it if it -wesn’t for Nora’—and here he looked @p and crossed himself—‘‘though ’tis &ittie good the likes of me can do with graying, and I consorting with these— eye, it's an ugly werd, James Court- -mey, even to whisper to yourself—these «murderers. And Maurice is scheming @ get this young Tremayne into the met, and it’s easy to see, though it’s fhard to know why, that it’s more than fale money he wants; and if the lad feat on his guard he'll work his will @a him, and I standing by—I, that have ‘reken bread with him. If I could only warn him some way! Yes, I'll do it! ZU be a set-off against—whist! here ‘they come!” Be sat down at the table and played mervously with one of the pens. The door opened, and four men en- tered quietly, the three strangers shak- ‘mg hands with Courtney, and I could gee that the grip they exchanged was @@ erdinary one. No words were spok- ven while they divested themselves of their heavy coats, and as they took ‘heir places at the table I got a good view of two of them, but the third seated himself with his back to me, so that all I could see of him was his road shoulders, and the thick, full meck set so squarely upon them. f the other two, one was a man of @he most ordinary type, with nothing striking in his features, but the had a face that, once seen, could @ever be forgotten. His short nose ran wide to one side. His upper lip was feng, straight and sharply-cut, and his @lack eyes were so piercing, and -@eemed to take in everything so com- w@letely with their quick glances, that I Poofoofe fo fodfocfo fone forFo Rofo RoR shivered when he looked up at the par- tition. It was:this man who first spoke. “You have taken all precautions, Maurice?” iy and you're as safe here as it you were in—Heaven.” “We weren't safe in Dublin, so 1 changed the venue, for you know what an accident means to us. And now, be- fore we begin our business, I must hear from Sweeney's lips if the news he sent me is true.” “Yes,” said the broad-shouldered man who sat with his back to me— “Yes! I've found him;” and, short and simple as his answer was, it seemed like a spark that set off the evil nature of Maurice D’Orville and made it blaze up within him till the man looked like some fiend filled with the lust of slaug- ter. For a second or two he made no re- ply. Then, as he spoke, he stretched out his hand and gripped the other’s. “I knew it would come,” he said. “Let fools prate about vengeance be- longing to the Lord. It’s mine now, or it will be soon, and it will be all the sweeter that it comes so late. It’s mel- lowed with keeping, but it’s mine, mine! Where is he; and what is he doing?” “He's in Fiji, owner and captain of on: of the boats that runs betwixt the islands. You can get at him that aisy that, sure, ’twill scarcely be any credit to kill him!” “Pardon me, Maurice, but hadn't we better settle the most important busi- ness first?” said the man with the wry nose. . “Yes; but you must remember, Mac, that this company was started by me, for the purpose of gratifying my pri- vate revenge,” said D’Orville. “I have added the wrongs of my country to my own, and we have drawn together a band of men that will go on striking terror into the hearts of those who are grinding life and enterprise out of Ire- land. I'll put aside private matters, however, and I'll tell you the campaign I propose to open. Here, first of all, is a list of the men to be attacked. We must have done with small people. James and Field were well enough to begin with, and they served our pur- pose. Now we must fly higher. List- en!” and then he read the names of some of the most prominent politicians of the day, with running comments on the deeds of the persons mentioned— deeds that, in the speaker's opinion, mate the doers fit and proper objects upon which to wreak vengeance. And then followed a long discussion as to ways and means. This one was to be quietly slain in his room at night; a second to be “publicly executed;” a third to be killed with a bomb; and so on and so forth, until matters had been arranged in such a way that, if the plots succeeded, Her Majesty would, in a short space of time be bereft of her ablest advisers, and Liberty’s car, as these patriots phrased it, be driven for- | ward over the bodies of men who were | devoting their time and talents to the good of their country. I almost forgot my private wrongs in the feelings of indignation that surged through me when I heard these un- known, uninfluential wretches calmly and coolly discussing the murder of those so immeasurably their superiors, though there was sweet comfort in the | reflection that: Providence had given us | so fair a chance of bringing their mis- deeds home to them. Courtney was the only one who took no part in the discussion, and it was evident from the way in which he | shifted about in his chair, and from the expression of his face, that he was screwing up his courage to make that protest of which he had talked in his soliloquey. But is was clear, too, that it was one thing to come to such a re- | solve, when he was both speaker and audience, and quite another to put it into effect when face to face with men whom he had so much reason to dread, and into whose fiendish schemes he had been drawn by the wiles of his rel- ative. At last there was a pause in the gruesome talk, and Courtney's chance came if he would but take it. I could see him quite plainly, and I noted that he made two or three distinct efforts before speech came to him. “Look here, Maurice,’ ’he said, at last, “‘and you other men, too! I joined this party to get fair play for Ireland. I know nothing about ‘private revenge,’ and I don’t want to. I’ve spent my money freely, and I have a right to speak, and I say you won't get justice | this way. What good will it do if you murder half the people in England? | The other half will only be more bitter. See! Don’t reckon on me to have a hand in any of these assassinations! Aye! it’s not a nice word, Maurice, but it fits what you’re going to do. Never a bit do I care, MacDunnett, if you kill me, and you look black enough to do it, and so do you, Jim McSweeney. “You fools! Can't you see that Mau- rice has you all for puppets? He's sending you here, there and every- where to find somebody he wants to kill, and all this philandering about Lord this and Mister that is his way of making you do what he wants. I tell you that from to-night I’ve done with you. I can’t betray you, for, even if my conscience would let me, I've gone too deep in the mire to get clear with my life. You may do your own evil work in your own evil way.” While he was speaking the other men had drawn apart from him, and now they stood in one corner and whispered to each other in such low tones that it was impossible to catch what they were saying. ' CHAPTER X. One of the Thirteen. ‘Anguish need scarcely have advised me to lie quiet for some time after the | books. meeting was over, since it was almost physically impossible for me to move. ny The cold that, in my excitement, I had hardly noticed, had fallen upon me, and, from long continuance in one posi- tion, my limbs had become rigid. When I deemed it prudent to do so, I set about trying to quicken my circulation, and at last I was so far successful that I was able to crawl to the spot be- neath the loose tiles, and, with some difficulty, to get to the ground. The night was still black, but the wind hada fallen and allowed the clouds, to “drop their fatness,” and when I' reached home I was drenched to the skin, so slowly was I constrained to move—and, late as it was, I found Graves up, and was grateful for his help. He gave me back the packet and envelope un- opened. I showed myself next day on the street, and on the following morning I had a visit from Mr. Courtney, and from his manner I judged that he had something very important to say to me. “This is a most unusual hour to pay a visit, Mr. Tremayne,” said he; “but V’ve some serious advice to give you, though I should have kept it until this afternoon, only that demon of a wo- man I’ve got for a cook has driven me out of the house with her tongue. I've packed her off with her wages, so may- be we shall have peace, if the potatoes are ruined.” “You'll be wondering what advice a man who looks after his own affairs so badly can be going to give you. Well, it’s just this. You wanted to join a so- ciety that would help on Ireland, and 1 promised to put you in the way of do. ing so, and, bad luck to me, but I've written to the man I said I would, ana he’ll break the matter to you soon. That man is my relation, D’Orville, and I’ve come to tell you that, if you value your peace of mind, you will hear him politely, and teli him that you think I must have been mad when I wrote to him, and that you don’t intend to join any secret society whatever. “If he knew that I was telling you this, he’d put me out of the way, and he’d do worse, for he’d work his wicked will on her that is so dear to me. So, you won’t mention that it’s James Courtney’s, advice to you that you leave Ireland’s troubles to the Irish. Sure, they know best how to deal with them, though by this and that it’s a great mess they’re always in. Lend him some money if you will and can, but don’t go any further, and, mind you, get a stamped receipt for it. It's a way Maurice has to forget such tri- fles. This seems strange advice, I dare say, but I’m giving it to you from the bottom of my heart. He’s away in Lon- don now, so I just slipped over, and it won't be long before he comes to see you.” “Is it a very dangerous matter, then, Mr. Courtney?” I asked,“ to join one ot these brotherhoods, or whatsoever they are called?” “It wil be to join anything he advises you to, for once you're in it, "twill be this way with you. The law will put a noose around your neck that'll tighten, maybe, when you don’t expect it, and the society will have its knife into you if you fail it, so, between the two, it won’t be a bed of roses you'll be sleep- ing on. Take my warning, Mr. Tre- mayne. I can't be any plainer, but you’re in an awkward and dangerous position.” “Y’m sure I'm very grateful to you, Mr. Courney, for your advice, for I know the risk you run in giving it. I am still keen upon Ireland's wrongs” (and, oh! what a hypocrite I felt! “but you may be certain that, after what you have said, I won't go blind- folded into anything.” He shook hands with me most cord- ially, and left me ha look of pity in his eye and a misgiving in his heart, | that found expression in the many shakes of his head that he indulged in as he walked down the drive, and in the prolonged stare with, which he fa- vored the house as he paused with his hand on the gate. He had done what he said he would, and I felt the utmost respect for him, and I was even wondering if we might not take him as an ally, when I saw my uncle, the Rev. Tremayne, walking briskly down the drive. “I've lost my situation,” he said, as we shook hands, “and I don’t think I shall want another for some time. Now we had better compare notes, and, to begin with, tell me what old Courtney wanted. I.met him in the road, and we had a most cordial meeting, though it wouldn't have been quite so agreeable if he had known that I represented the lady who gave him such a dressing down only this very morning.” “He came to warn me,” JT said, “against joining any secret society, and he seems such a trump that I almost feel inclined to make him an ally.” “Do you? Well, don’t! He'd just as likely warn this D’Orville as not, and then our apple cart would be upset with a vengeancé. No! you mustn’t da that, and when their meeting comes oft we'll make a clean swéep of the lot.” “Did you hear all they had to say?” I asked. “Every word,” he said; you some day how I managed it. It must have been a trial to you when they talked of your father, but I'm glad you heard it, for it will give you nerve to go through with the matter. When D'Orville approaches you, you will gradually fall in with his views, and eventually promine to join ‘The Thir- teen.” “While I think of it, T may say that we had better leave Mr. Traverse alone. It’s uttery useless to try and stir him up, for, if you get his attention one minute, he's looking at you vacantly the mext, and you can see that_there’s some problem or other flitting through his brain; so we'll e’en count him out of the concern, and let him stick to his We must go warily, and so ar- range matters that you won't be in any danger when we make our rush. I think IT see an easy way out of that difficulty, and Master D’Orville won't enjoy the pleasures of anticipation so very long, and the plum that tastes so sweet now will have a bitter kernel.” And with that we fell to discussing our programme, and arranged that, for the present we should dance to what- ever tune D’Orville might pipe, until the time came when our positions should be reversed, and he should re- ceive his deserts. On the morrow I had a letter from Nora, and it contained the welcome “and I'll tell | news that she was coming home. She wrote (and I take the liberty ba! cor- recting her spelling:) “Mrs. D’Orville has been having me to school, and trying to teach me to read. I was a bad pupil, and I’ve near- ly broken her heart with my stupid ways. She says that I shall never put two words together properly, and that I’m a disgrace to our people. She has a fine temper, if you like, and I wonder if it runs in the family.” And the letter ended with the intima- tion that the writer would be in the woods on ‘the day after to-morrow,” and hoped that no one would be spying about. And in the dear old woods I met her, the lessons we set about learning being such as Cupid taught us, and very apt pupils we proved. I did not go into very exact details respecting what we had heard, not that I for a moment doubted either her dis- cretion or her courage, but if she were innocent of the knowledge she would be the more easily able to play her part. So I told her that we now knew enough to put an end to D’Orville’s mischief whenever we chose, and that when the right moment arrived all would end happily. Our walks were undisturbed, but I put this down to the fact that Maurice D'Orville, who had again taken up his quarters at Enfield, was allowing me time to gorge the bait. The process of landing was to begin speedily. I rhet him close to our gate one day, and asked him in, and he lost no time in coming to the point. “I have heard, Mr. Tremayne,” said he, “that you are deeply interested in the Irish cause, and that, indeed, you are willing to give practical proof of your interest?” 4 “Yes,” I said, “you are correctly in- formed, and, if I might guess at once, it was Mr. Courtney who told you.” “Then,” said he, “we needn't beat about the bush. My uncle has written to me to say that you would like to join some association that has for its ob- ject the advancement of Ireland. I am connected. with several such, but there is one in particular to which I would like to draw your attention. We meet —and you will see by the use of the pronoun, that I am a member of the society—we meet every now and then, and concert measures that may help the cause, and we have had a fair share of success. Most of our metm- bers, I must tell you, are inclined to the fortiter in re method, and we, who have cooler heads, have to restrain them. “Now, like most of the kindred socie- ties, we are very poor. Such fortune as I have has been embarked in the ven- ture, but, until you understand tne scope of our actions and our methods, it would scarcely be fair to ask you to show the color of your money—if you will permit the homely phrase. Poor as we are, it is men we want, Mr. Tre- mayne, not money—though, of course, we must have the latter to provide the sinews of war. Now, if you have any idea of joining us, I should be proud to propose you, and let you know the re- sult. What do you say?” “Well, you see, Mr. D’Orville, I know nothing of your methods, and—and—' “They are perfectly legitimate and constitutional,” he broke in; “that is to say, they cannot bring you within the pale of the law,” and with that he sketched for me a plan of their mode of operation than in its conception was such a tissue of lies that it would have done credit to the Evil One, his master. “I must have a few days to think over the matter,” said I, when his elo- quence was exhausted. “It is too seri- ous a step to take in a hurry, but 1 must say that at present, I am rather inclined to become one of you, and to help you as far as my means allow.” And so we parted, with the most rdial handshake, though I could have wished, had I had the election, to have grasped his throat instead of his fin- gers. After this opening matters proceeded apace, and scarcely a day passed with- out my meeting D’Orville and having the advantages of the society he haa mentioned set before me in the most eloquent terms. At last I gave my con- sent to being proposed as a member, and, as an earnest of good will, ad- vanced £200. Within a week he was able to tell me that my application was successful, and that I might hold myself in readi- ness to go with him and be installed at the next assembly, which would take place at Manchester, in March, and he would have been very much astonished if he had known that I could have saved him the trouble of giving me the exact date and address. “And now, by the advice of Anguish, I wrote to my father, and when I as- sured him of the great joy our reunion would be to me, I told him of the way in which I had come by my knowledge of the Ragged Thirteen,.and that our plans were so laid that I hoped to cap- ture the whole gang, adding that I pro- posed to join his as soon as our com- mon enemies were laid by the heels. I addresesd the letter to “Capt. Tre- mayne, SS. Corisande, Suva or Levuka. Fiji,” trusting that if what Sweeney |nad said were true, this would easily reach him. But it never came to hand, as I subsequently discovered, for it went to the bottom of the sea close to one of the islands at which the Cori- sande had been expected to touch. One day early in March D’Orville came to me. “Can you join me in London the day after to-morrow?” said he. I told him that I should be ready at any time. “Your election is settled,”: he said, “and I want you to give me some proof of your confidence in us. Will you come provided with sufficient means to go abroad for a while? We may have work to do in foreign parts, and if the lot falls upoh you to go, we would like you to start with the least possible de- lay. Can you be ready? If not, you have only to say so, and it would be better to let me know as soon as possi- ble, so that, if necessary, we may alter our plans.” “So far as that goes,” I said, careless- ly, “you may send me to the other end of the world.” (To Be Continued.) . Mislaid. “You look rather haggard this morn- ing. What's the matter?” “O! I made a discovery last night that simply staggered me.” “Really? What was that?” “A quart bottle of 10-year-old that I didn’t know I had.’ "Philadelphia Rating peed as a tae ks 2 an g MISS FRANCES M. ANDERSON, daughter of HON. JUDGE ANDERSON, of Virginia, is at present in Washiagton, D. C., as Corresponding Secretary of the Higher Educational/League, of that city. Cured of la grippe by Peruna. ISS FRANCES M. ANDERSON, Corresponding Secretary of the Higher Educational League, writes from the“Astoria,”Wash- ington, D. C., the following: «‘About two months ago was taken very ill with la grippe and was obliged to go to bed. 1 took three bottles of Peruna with very beneficial results, and was abie to leave my bed in a week.and regained my usual strength very soon. “1 have nothing but praise for Peru- aa, and recommend it to those simi- larly afflicted whenever I can.”’— Frances M. Anderson. La grippe is, strictly speaking, epi- | demic catarrh—that is to say, a variety of acute catarrh which is so contagi- ous and runs a course more or less definite, the same as_ scarlet fever, whooping cough, etc. During the acute stages of la grippe it is not a very fatal disease, but the condition in which it leaves the sys- tem has caused the death of a count- less number. Indeed nearly every person who has had la grippe within the last three years finds himself more or less de- Tanged by the pernicious effects of this disease. The majority of those who have escaped death find life scarcely worth living. If this vast multitude of people could only know with what certainty and promptness Peruna would relieve them of all the bad effects which la grippe has brought upon them, what an untold amount of suffering would be averted! Thousands have already heard how quickly this remedy will cure in these cases and have been saved; but tens of thousands have not yet heard, and con- tinue to suffer on, dropping into the grave one by one. Peruna cures catarrh in all stages and varieties, whether acute or chronic, and is therefore the most effective remedy ever devised for removing all the derangements which follows la grippe. Samuel M. York writes from Union Grove, Ala., the following letter: Dear Sir—‘‘Last week I was taken with la grippe and cdtarrhal deafness. I wrote you for advice and followed your directions. After taking two bot- tles of Peruna I found myself well of la grippe, and my hearing was fully ro- stored. My health is better than it has been in five years. “My wife improved in health very much after taking Peruna.”’—Samuel M. York. Miss Caroline J. Kahl, Otisco, Ind, writes as follows: “Three years I had Ja grippe and pulmonary trouble. I was very sick. I had hemorrhages of the lungs nearly every day fora year and three bottles of your Peruna cured me. The coctor said I had consumption. [am now in better health than I have been for many years. “I highly recommend Peruna to all my neighbors and friends. Peruna is my favorite medicine. I shall always have Peruna in the house.”—Miss Caro- line J. Kahl. If you do not derive prompt and sat- : isfactory results from: thesuse of Pe- runa, write at once to Dr. Hartman, giving a full statement of your case and he will be pleased to give you his valuable advice gratis. Address Dr. Hartman, President of The Hartman Sanitarium,.Columbus,0, The Wings of Wealth. To have his swing in Wall street is the consuming desire of every man with with the money-craze in his blood and brain, yet most of the ex-“kings of Wall street’died poor unless they had other sources of income; their living successors dare not try to retire by converting their holdings into cash. Outside of Wall street the final ex- periences of thousands of envied men have been similarly bad; an ex-mill- ionaire, once supposed to pe the shrewdest of the shrewd, is keeping a cheap restaurant in Boston, another is an object of charity in Chicago, and many monetary meteors, to whose names “Lucky” was prefixed a few years ago, would exchange all their luck that remains for a permanent as- surance against the wolf at the door.— Saturday Evening Post. PATENTS. List of Patents Issued Last Week to Northwestern Inventors. Edgar A. Brooke, Dillon, Mt., brake lever for road vehicles; Andrew V. Cle- land, Minneapolis, Minn., attachment for fanning mills; Joy C. Hubbard, Minneapolis, Minn., baby tender; Will- iam Milbrath, Lakefield, Minn., clothes drier; Seneca H. Tromanhauser, Min- neapolis, Minn., fire escape. Lothrop & Johnson, patent attorneys, 911 & 912 Pioneer Press Bldg., St. Paul, Minn. 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