Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, October 19, 1901, Page 6

SAN Fatal, mmx Niharriage. CHAPTEU —(Continued.) Wet Mrs. Martin's troughts had been busy. Without Icsing a single word) that the girl had said, she had been buss with many other subjects. She new anderstood the cause of Shirley's return, looking so sad and disappointed. Charice loved him still, but had beef forced ¢e refuse to see him; her own letter frad been intercepted, and, of course, destroyed; the information she had received, if judiciously used, might help her to keep Clarice and Shir apart forey But could she bring h self te make such use of it for the sake ef Bertha? Was she not making too serious a matter out of a girl's first; fancy? ‘fhe signs of luxury and wealth about her stirred the old leaven, and again ther heart and soul thrsted for Philip Grayson's wealth, which was hers on the @ay when Clarice married Austin. “E will not see Mrs. Grayson now, Su- saa,” she said. “Give her my card, and say ¥ will call again soon. I fear she mnust be too much disturbed at present to wish to see any one. But I always xnisteusted that Frenchwoman.” i “And so did I, ma‘am,” Susan an- swered, fervently, as she accompanied aM Martin to the front Goor, Before she could open it the bell was | sounded, and Mrs. Martia stepped back | @ litte to allow the visitor to enter. H CHAPTER XXI Whe Marquis Del Castellani. When Detective Hantlin started cff with Humpy Jack, the bootblack. he | gave himself entirely to the guidance ef his companion.- i They had walked a considerable dis- | tance in silence before the detective ob- served ¢hat instead of going toward the eastern part of the city, as he had in- etinetively expected, the boy was lead- ang bim in a northeriy direction, and into a quarter which grew more ele- gant as Chey proceeded. “Why, Jack, where me?” Hantlin asked, to 2 standstill. “E's all right, boss—which I'm a-go- 4n' to s’prise yer, I dersay; but I'm a- takin’ yer aight to the right place, ali er same.” “Very well, come on,” said the detect- five, starting off again in the wake ot Sais conductor, who went ahead at a pace which taxed him to keep up with it Jacky did not pause again until they were in the shadow of one of the finest and most fashionable hotels in the city. ‘Then, coming cl to Hantlin, he whis- | pered, with a mysterious wink: “This yer's his boardin’ hous “What!” exclaimed the-detective, sur. prised. “You don’t mean the man lives fn this hotel?” “¥ see him a-standin’ on them i mtepe as I was blackin’ a gemman's | Boots, an’ axed the bell-boy if he lived here, an’ he said y so I knows.” “But perhaps you've made a mistake {m the man, Jacky?” “Ne, sir-ree! That ain’t wot I’m here is for. An’ there ain’t any two men in} this ‘ere metrop-o-lis wot looks like that ane.” “That's so, too. By your description of him, you wouldn't bé likely to mis- | take him for any one else. But you @romised to show him to me.” “Se i did, boss. I kinder thought he’d stand right here till I got back. In my excitement I forgot I hadn't never done ethin’ for him to make him anxious to eblige me; but I'll shom him to yer yet, boss, if ys ou ‘Il only have a little patience | with me.” “All right, Jacky @imount of patienc returned the de- | tective, good-humoredly. “Come, now, | Xt walk on a bit, and meet you on the other side of the street. You can give me a regular long careful shine-up, and ¥ will think out a plan for staying about here without attracting attention.” Humpy gave an intelligent nod, and, catching up his blacking brushes and * boa, sauntered easily off in an opposite direction. After a lapse of ten minutes, during whieh he managed to see pretty much | ef everything on either side of the street, Hantlin met Jacky on the oppo- site sidewalk, and the bootbalck pol- fished his boots until they reflected his wn prespiring face like a mirror. The boy gave them an additional teuch, then, from time to time, and ex- wended as much time as he could on the operation, with his keen glance directed every instant to the hotel steps. He tegan to fear he should not win the go coin, after all, when, suddenly, the object of his watchfulness emerged from the hotel and came directly to- ward them. “Yhat's him!” muttered Jacky, giving the detective a smart poke with the lacking brush—which was wholly un- | mecessary, for Hantlin’s gaze was fast- ened on the approaching figure, as if he wished to photograph it on his eye for- ever. | And, indeed, it was a remarkable- looking man upon whom he gazed--a face and figure to attract attention any- where, and which Detective Hantlin mever forgot from that moment. Of a height that would have been un- gainly in a less perfectly proportioned figure, a sculptor would almost have adored him as the model for a colossal Apslio. His complexion was a fair, pale olive, e@lmost goiden in hue; his lar: lus- | frous eyes were of dazzling blue, and | glowed and glittered like jewels; his | finely-marked brows were heavy, and | several shades darker than his shining | yetlew hair, which, in its natural condi- tion, waved in curling luxuriance about his neck and temples, but was now cut quite short. Wis targe, beautifully-shaped hands g@iittered with rings, which he evidently | wished to display, for he carried his light kid gloves carelessly in the hand which held his zane. He was dressed in the fashion of the day. not showily; but with more atten- are you taking suddenly, coming tere | I’ve got any | church by day | oe this gentler | him. t BLIZABETH CAMPBELL, aed tion to color as to necktie, gloves and handkerchief than is usually shown. foreigner,” thought Hantlin, ‘but certainly a distinguished one. This man is no common murderer, nor thief. The case grows more interesting. There is certainly a woman in it; or perhaps the boy is mistaken altogether.” While these thoughts were passing through the detective’s mind the object of them had walked*past him, but not without obs ing him, for the man’s eyes were keen and mind as swift as Hantlin’s; but both faces kept their secret, and neither showed that he was sharply observing the other. Hantlin did not speak until this su- perb-looking stranger was beyond both sight and he “You're sure you've made no mistake, Jacky?” he then asked the bootblack, in a low voice. “Now, bos: it likely?” returned Humpy Jac achfully. “Well, no, the answer, in a {| frank tone. And the detective cheerfully produced | a five-dollar gold-piece and dropped it into Jacky’s grimy hand, adding: “If you want to earn another to keep that one company, don’t lose sight of that magnificent beauty man of yours But be careful; he’s no fool. As the girl si in the play, ‘He can see a ght.” Jacky clutched the gold coin, and} gaye an expressive and awful wink, and then Hantlin waiked on toward the ho- tel. He knew the clerk and the bell-be and he carelessly enteved into careless | talk, first with one and then with an- other. In the course of conversation, he learned that the magnificent stranger n Italian gentleman of rank, the s del Castellani, but recently ar- rived in the city—had not been a resi- dent of the hotel very long. Pressed to be more particular as to | time, the cle ronsulted the books, and informed Hantlin that it was just three since the marquis had taken up abode there. Having gleaned this information, out of whole bushels of the chatter, Hant- lin at length sauntered away, feeling a good deal perplexed, although his im- penetrable countenance quite concealed his ate of mind. v the Mar: murderer ip Grayson? If ; had the murder been committe: Was it accidental or in self-defense? it seemed absurd to suppose that an Italian nobleman—a person of rank and wealth—however wicked, could play the part of thief and murderer out of mere and cruelty. Or, was the murder an accident, and had the robbery been committed mere- ly as a blind, and to give an apparent motive for the crime? The more he questioned himself on the subject, the less he seemed likely to undersiand the matter. He had about reached the conclusion that Humpy Jack Lad taken advantage remarkable appear- 1 story out of it, and so dollar gold piece. aw that man on the steps at all,” the de- “tective thought, “but, having observed him somewhere of late, and found out where to look for him again, has delib- erately fashioned the rest of the story— to throw me off the scent, perhaps. How do I know but the real ‘criminal invented the story for him? And yet, the boy has an honest face. And here h ecomes, tov. This detective business | would teach 2 man to suspect his own mother. Hello, Jacky!’ he exclaimed, aloud, as the bootblack came close to “{ bade you not lose sight of him | until he was under cover for the night.’ “AIL right, sir, I won't. He’s not far off—enly in the park on the next block —and he ain't in no hurry to move. He's met his gul there, an’ they're coo in’ like a ro’ young pigeons. [ guessed I'd meet ye about here, boss, an’ I wanted ter know ef I’a watch him or the girl when they leave each other, ‘cause I've heard say it helps to know about the wimmin folks in such cases.” “What cases, Jacky “Well, boss, suspicious cases. I’ve been a-thinkin’ it over, an’ I kinder guess this ‘ere’s the feller wot killed the rich millionaire, Mister Grayson.” The detective smiled slightly. “Don’t think too much, Jacky,” he said. “Your mind couldn't stand it. What sort of looking girl is she?” he added, sharply, a pain contracting his heart as he thought of Leonce. “Pale and foreign-like, with great, dark eyes and very handsome?” “Not a bit like that, boss. Handsomc enough—about the prettiest-lookin’ gal I ever but not dark. She has a t o' reddish yailer hair, an’ blue ch 2 complexion! My eye! s are nowhere ‘longside o her, if she cnly knew how to dress. But she’s all in biack; looks as if she was i ournin’ for some one.” ereet an'r ” said the detective, and his heart seemed to expand with a sudden burst of joy, for J: y’s description of the girl ured him that she was not Mrs. Grayson’ ench maid, Leonce. Who, then, was she? “But you've a sharp eye for faces.” “Keeps ‘em in my head like a picter, boss,” returned Jacky, delighted. “Very well, Jacky. Go back now and watch them both as much as possible. Find out who the young lady is if you ca if not, follow ker when they sep- arate. We know where he lives, for the present. If your information is useful, when we meet again, I'll give you the other gold shiner to make com- pany for the one you've got.” Humpy Jack grinned with delight, and limped off with his invariable cry: “Shine yer boots, sir! shine ’em up!” Detective Hantlin continued his way, increasing his pace almost to a run. such was his haste; and as he, sped along his thoughts kept time with his Pace. them, ‘del Castellani the so, | ou must have been quite close to’ snthony Castel, an English gentleman, | | | | vered him, and whose ungainly, | heavy, time-worn stic heart, of which organ, as a rule, he scarcely understood the existence. Ana, as he fully realized this discovery, # warm flush overspread his pale face, mounting even to his brow. He knew now that he was in love with Leonce—had been in love with her from the first moment he had seen her, and that was why her pale, beautiful face and glowing Gark eyes came con- tinually before him, between him and all other thoughts, haunting him in his sleep and smiling sadly on him the mo- ment he opened his eyes. That is why he had found it impossi- ble to concentrate his mind on this case —the most important that he had ever yet taken charge of—that is why his heart contracted with pain at the thought of Leonce being in company with the superb-looking Italian maz- quis, But the man’s present companion was not Leonce, and he must find out, without delay, who it was. But beyond doubt it had been Leonce whom Jack had first seen with the marquis. Did she, then, love him? Was the man her lover or that of her mistress? Had he, indeed, murdered Philip Gray- son on account of his wife? Or had Grayson, finding him secreted in the house, attacked him for a_ supposed burglar, and so lost his own life in the struggle? Numerous ideas, each one of which contained a possibility which might be the truth, thronged Hantlin’s mind as he hurried onward; but above all was the one, to him, vital question: Did Leonce leve this man--this man whose manly beauty seemed of Heaven itself, and might have won its very angels only to betray them? “At least I will Enow,” Hantiin said to himself, registering the intention as a sacred oath. “And if she loves him, that thought will help me to tighten the rope about his fire, white throat!” Reaching the house in which he lived, he entered by @ private door, and was scon in his own room. In about five minutes from the time the front door closed on him, the area door opened te |tet ovt a miserable-lookirg tramp, whose tattered garments scarcely cov- shamb- ling movements were supported by & the companion, of want and apparently, of long y2 misery. ‘When he had about reached the mid- dle of the park, fatigue and weakness overpowered him, and he sank with a moan on one of the benches, poorting his head as he leaned forward on the shaking, palsied hands which held the head had fallen forward in such a manner that the gaze of his inflamed and bleary eyes was fixed directly on a lady and gentleman seated at a little distance, nearly opposite. And it was such a keen and penetrating gaze that it also saw, quite distinctly, a hump- backed shoeblack a little further on, polishing the boots of a youth, who was, happily, too muc “absorbed in himself to see anything else. Humpy Jack didn’t even look at the tramp. The gentlemen, who was ex- traordinarily handsome, and the young jlady, who was p‘quantly and radiantly pretty, were too much absorbed in each other to notice the tramp. And the tramp, with the remarkably keen though bleary eyes, was glad of it, for just then the eyes looked so unnatural- ly bright in contrast to the rest of his appearance that they mignt have at- tracted attention; for he had recog- nized the young lady, as well as her companion, the marquis. Martin’s pretty daughter, by d thought Hantlin—‘“the young niece of the murdered man-—Miss Letty Martin!” CHAPTER XXIt. Letty’s Lover. It was, indeed, none other than Letty Martin who now sat beside the Marquis del Castellani. He was the lover wha returned her affection with an ardor and constancy equal to her own, as she had so often told Bertha, for, with the confidence of innocence and girlhood, the sisters had always spoken freely te each otber on the subject most inter- esting of all others to girls of their age Bertha, indeed, had been more re cent, because she could not yet speak of a lover who loved her in return; but Letty had long since confessed to her sister the interest she felt in a certain magnificent stranger who had rescued her from the possibility of drowning some months before, when she had been on an excursion with some friends of her ewn age. More than once she had met him since, and when he protested his love for her she was fain to confess that she had loved him from the moment their eyes met, when his arm supported her and held her from falling, at the time the boats came in collision, Innocent of all thought of harm, Let: ! ty would have told her mother as well as her sister, had not Mrs. Martin at that time been entirely occupied with her own ambitious schemes, combined with a perfectly frantic stat2 of excite ment regarding her brother's infatua- tion for Clarice Mowbray. The time passed on—the days grew j into weeks—and Letty’s secret seemed to become more entirely her own; for now her jover insisted that she should yield to his persuasion and consent to a private marriage, urging such rea- sons as seemed to the innocent and un suspecting girl strong enough to excuse such a step. Her lover--whom she knew only a& but Italian on his mcther’s side—was of noble birth and heir to the family title, but destined by his relatives to become the husband of a very wealthy girl whom he hated. He had never yet consented to the marriage, he told Letty, and to get ria of the unwelcome subject he had for a time exiled himself from his native land. The title and estate (the latter being heavily mortgaged) would be his, any- way; but the fortune necessary to keep up the dignity of the position would come to him on the death of a wealthy aunt, who was also his godmother. She, of course, wished to regulate his marriage, but did not stipulate for any time. So long as he did not displease her by marrying against her wishes, he was sure of her favor; it was only ne- cessary that he shovld continue un- married, or at least appear so. Letty listened, at first somewhat shocked, and begged to tell her mother : all. Her mother would be secret as the He had made a discovery, an amaz- j grave, she knew. But Mr. Castel ob- the point. She would not consent to a clandes- tine marriage, however, at that time. Her lover looked grieved, and a mist- like moisture dimmed the luster of his beautiful eyes; but, though her own overflowed with tears, Letty remained firm—for that time. AS On their next meeting she did all the talking, and her lover listened, almost in silence, except for an occasional long-drawn sigh or a monosyllable spoken in a tone of sadness. Unable to bear ihis change, Letty asked, petulantly, what she had done to be so treated, and had anything hap- pened. “Yes,” her lover answered, but in a tone of deep tenderness, “almost the worst that could happen.” He had received letters which re- called him peremptorily, and he could no longer invent excuses for remaining away. His father commanded him to return; his mother entreated him to come to ker, and his aunt, from whom he had such large expectations, wept for him, for she was sick, almost to death, and he could scarcely hope to find her alive unless he returned with- out delay. Poor Letty listened and turned pale. A terrible fear seized her, and then she realized that this stranger had already | become a part of her life. What would that life be if he should go out of it? A barren wilderness. Nothing in all the world could fill the void left by his absence: for, in all the world, there was nothing like him. Alas, for her there was nothing now but him! nthony, terror, “I cannot let you go. part from you!” “But I must go, carina,” he returned. in the soft and velvet-like tones that few women could resist. “ Bereft of you, I have, indeed, no personal inter- est left in the world; but I have a name and family to whom I owe much, and for the remainder of my life I can jive for them.” “No, no!" cried Letty slender hands about his arm, ing up into his face with eyes. “You shall not leave m you do you may not return!” Her lover shrugged his shoulders, and declared he would, indeed, try not to return, since she cared so little for him, and preferred to see him unhappy, rather than forego.the parade of a pub- lic marriage. “You are cruel!” bursting into tea Anthony!” she gasped, in I cannot elasping her ad l00k- beseeching ; for if moaned . Letty, Vhat do I care for the parade of a public marriage? 1 / but even i} only ask to tell my mother; that I will defer, since yeu say it must be so. I have no will wish but yours. all the world, and am yours, now forever.” It was already in the dusk of even- ing, and their place of meeting was a and secluded <nd almost deserted little park and not far from Letty’s own home; now, at this ¢ surrender, her lover caught the slight, girlish form in his great, powerful arms, raised her like a little child, and | held her clasped to his breast, while his kisses rained in a warm shower on her brow and lips and cheeks. “My own fair rosebud!” he whis- pered. ‘Now I believe you iove me, in- deed!” Before they parted, all the prelimin- aries for their marriage were arranged, and neither was late at the appointed place fur the next morning: Having taken the irrevocable step, Letty knew no regret nor any ‘teeling of uneasiness. The man she loved was now her husband; she believed in him implicitly and obeyed him blindly. The secret 6f her marriage W: her own, but her husband's, and there- fore she did not even reproach herself for keeping it from her mother. Al- thougk she had, in part, spoken of her love, and of her happir in knowing it returned, to Bertha, she went no fur- ther in her confidence; for band forbade her to speak of her mar- riage to any one. “The time will come, and soon, darling.” he had said, “when 1 will bid ‘ou prociaim it to the world; but till then breathe it not to any mortal, and only in a whisper to your own heart.” “As if I could for a moment forget it, my own, my Anthony, my husbant murmured the poor, infatuated &' looking at the man she loved with ado ing fcndness. Day followed day, and they met con- 1, stantly, and spent hours that seemed | but minutes, together; and still Letty s husband postponed his depaiture from day to day, declariag that he could not tear himself away ‘rom his loved and lovely bride, but always ending by Say- ing that he might be forced to leave her--for a little while—at any moment. Therefore, when, on a certain morn- ing, she reached the trysting place first, and spent hours there, in an agony of suspense and expectation, without meeting her hysband, she was neither uneasy nor suspicious of any harm. Her heart was sore with disappoint- ment and the pain of separation, but not one thought against the truth and honor and goodness of the man she haa married disturbed her peacc. “He has had further news from Eng- land,’ she thought, miserably. “He has been obliged to go to-day, perhaps, without even a word of good-bye. How shall I bear it? Oh, if I could only tell mamma or Bertha! To share my grief with seme one who loves me would help me a little; but I dare not, for Anthony forbade me. I must shut it up in my own heart, and wait until my love comes back to me—and f will.” But it was impossible for Letty to conceal entirely ler sadness during the absence of her lover, and to Bertha’s repeated questions she had admitted that business of a famiy nature had called away Anthony Castel, but that he would return soon, and that he was then going to visit her mother and ask for Letty as his wife, as soon as the Ob- stacles to their marriage had been re- moved. Absorbed in her own love affairs, Bertha had not more doubt of the man’s honor than Letty had.: She halt- envied while she congratulated her sis- ter, for she was 2!ready happy in the assurance.that the man she loved a]so loved her. Day followed day, but Letty received no tidings of her husband; she had read the passenger list of every outward. bound steamer since the day on which sh2 had last scen‘him, but his nam> appeared in none. She had hoped against hope for some line of farewell; but if he had written, the letter would have revched her long gince—if he had sent by messenger, the letter had either been lost or the car- rier had failed to find her. but yours—no , I love you better than | no longer } her hus- | my | found comfort in it; and then came the fearful tragedy of Philip Grayson’s murder, which, for a brief while, shut out even the recollection of her own sorrow. was over, and the excitement attending it subsided, the memory of her hus- band returned more sharply than be- fore, and for the first time the thought occurred to her that he might be gone forever, She knew nothing of hiny except trom himself, Other girls had been deceived and deserted! Could it be— She dared not think the thought, and then she reproached herself fof having allowed it an instant’s place in her mind. After that she used to go every even- ing to their former place of meeting. She would walk up and down over the familiar path where she had so often walked leaning on his arm: she would sit down on the bench, where he had so often sat peside her, whispering the sweetest words she had ever listened to; and then, through the mist of tears, she would fancy him coming to- ward her with outstretched arms, ana a smile on his beautiful face, But he never came; and Li the sickn. of heart of hope She was visibly growing pale and although she kept vp a brave show of good spirits before her mother and Bertna; but her bright eyes were srow- ing dim from the tears shed in secret. | One evening, as ske sat in the ola trysting place, thinking of the lover and husband who seemed now almost a creation of her own dreaming fancy, an Italian organ-grinder paused alme in front of her, and began io play a well known air, the sound of which set her pulses thrilling and caused a warm blush to overspread her face, for it was Anthony's favorite sir, and pis glorious voice had ofien sung the \ords softly in her ear while her head ree! ted on his shoulder. The organ-grinder .never took his gaze from her face while he played w air, and at the conclusion he pa: close to her, murmured the word morrow,” and dropped a folded piece | of paper in her lap, then hurried away. Letty started to her feet in terror ana exclamation burst from her lips—and | then she sank down on the seat again, trembling and dizzy with joy. She had remembered that Anthony {was halt Italian—the familiar melody ihe loved—the slip of paper—ah, joy! it was a message from Fer husband! | (To Be Continued.) i — BERNHARDT ON SHIPRO. ARD, | why She Never Quitted Her Cabin During the Entire Voyage Over the Seas. On arriving in Paris from her Ameri- can tour Bernhardt told her friends thet on the trip over she had never once quitted r cabin during the en- tire time. “Not even once,” she 5: ing. I do not like to be !coked at a, I were a wild beast, so I was careful not to put my, nose outside the door.” “But how did you pass the time?” | “Oh, I used to read, and write, and chat, play Salta and Halma.” “And look out on the sea? “No, never,” replied Mme. Bernhardt, | “for it is a curious thing that I, whe love the sea so ardently when I look at it frem a beach, simply detest it when it is carrying me. I avhor it so that IT cannot even look at it.” “Perhaps it is that you are nervous?” “I do not think so,” she replied, “for death by drowning is the onlv one which has no terror for me.”—London M, A. P. The Morning Hymo Vassar college, at morning sembled, vas listening to poutine nouncements ‘before the morning nym. Suddenly, the hundeds of young women began to listen. “Miss Gould,” pel as- an- President Taylor had just begun, “Miss Helen Goald has just given another scholarship to the col- . It isto become availble at onc and is in the form of a gift outright of | $20,090 i After remarks upon repeated | factions, the president calmly nounced the hymn. | “Tec thousand times ten thousand,” | chanted the chorus of trebles. | ‘Tho uplifted face of Va: under- body smiled one broad, per- bene- an- e smile. But whoever he: of a retroactive sense of humor, especially in a La'a-worked college faculty com- on morning chapel?-—New York The Lowest Price. ‘A cheap-jack bmcher bronght his cart to a standstill in Petticoat Lay London. A miserable old woman eyed closely the heap of tones and gristle which was referred to by th? butcher as joints and steaks, She was ovident~- ly very poor, indeed, as she hesitated to pay threepence for a scalef:l of lected bit: “Ere, ‘ave ’em for tuppence,”” the butcher. “Too much,” said the woman. “Ave ’em at a perny.” Stil the woman hesitated. There was_a Jeok of pity, mingled with disgust, on his face, he yelled: “Still‘'too much? ‘Ere, ‘ang it! TH turn me back while you sneak ‘em.”” growled Gave mn. “You!” growled the Great Man to his menial, “get a hump on yourself and push that work through. I wen’t tol- erate any laying back.” | “You!” said the tetter half of the Great Man, after he had left the dinner table, “get a hump on yourself and give me sufficient money to take Helen and myself to the mountains this summer, and hurry up. I won't tolerate any lay- ing back.” “Yes, dear,” replied the Great Man, meckly.—Denver Times, Branded for Life. Weary Wi lie (addressing fellow mem- bers of the fraternity)—Gents, dis yere hobo wat sez as he’s Dusty Rhodes is a imposter. Strange Hoho—Dat’s er lie! Weary Willie—Aw, close up. I knowed Dusty Rhodes fer five year, an’ he’s got a smut er coal dust on de right side o’ de mug. You’se ain’t got none, —Detroit Free Press. 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