Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, February 14, 1903, Page 6

“ed at his feeling. » “If you happened to know the ad- VV VVVVVVYNX WV PV VV VW VY VN A Daughter — of the Beach KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAS AAAAAAAN N A CHAPTER XIV.—Continued. “Then I beg that you will grant me an interview of a few moments.” “Come in.” “It is the voice of a lady,” thought Loud, as he followed. “Now, let’s see what the face will be.” Kate Purcell lit a lamp and placed it upon the table, and Henry Loud, the detective, drew a chair forward to her, and when she was seated, he sat down himself, thinking: “Yes, without doubt, these three men are all in love with her. Jove! She has one of the loveliest faces—one of the most graceful figures. And there’s truth and sincerity in her, too, which [ can’t say of one woman in a thou- sand.” He had resolved to be comparative- ly frank with Kate, and he hated to shock her, as he feared he must do. He told himself that, if he could read faces at all, he would soon know if she loved any of these men. “I am on the detective police force, and I came down to gather what in- formation I could regarding the mur- der of Ralph Caryl.” This was net a very wise begin- ning, perhaps, but Loud could not help saying that, so that she might give her answers with the knowledge of who he was. He scoffed at his own weakness in doing so, but he did it, nevertheless, and Loud was not used to swerve an fota for man or woman. Kate paled a little as she heard his words, but she held herself very cafm. | She knew all of that scene at the rail- road station, and when she heard of Caryl’s death, (she was afraid that the crime would be brought up against Vance Rothesay. She did not speak. She waited to be questioned: “Mr. Rothesay was ill here?” “Yes.” “ And you knew Caryl? visitor here?” “Yes.” “You will pardon me, Miss Purcell, I | hope,” said Loud, with embarrassment, “but I must ask you if either of these | men paid you any special attention?” Kate saw immediately what was the object of his questions. She was very white, but her voice was steady as she answered: “Mr. Caryl did pay me some special ; attention, but I never for a moment | viewed it in any other light than as done to pass away the time. He was ® man who was what is called a flirt; he made love to every woman of de- cent looks or youth, I am sure. And he could put a great appearance of earnestness into his manner.” “I should say he might, if he was not an idiot, when addressing you,” was the thought that passed through the 4etective’s mind, together with the de- ‘cision that Miss Purcell had not Nad a fancy for Caryl. “And Mr. Rothsay,” he said. A faint flush rose over the girl’s pale face—so faint and fleeting that it required sharp eyes to see it, and then it might mean nothing. “Mr. Rothesay was on the eve of marriage, and he was an honorable ‘man. Even if he had not been, he was ill with a fever all the time of ‘his stay here.” “And you took care of him?” “But very little. We had a nurse from the village.” Loud sat in silence for some min- tutes, his eyes bent upon the floor.. Of one thing he was certain —that Rofhe- say, for all his engagement and honor, bad loved this girl, and she had guess- He was a In that silence Kate was thinking of the curse that had broken from Roth- esay’s lips when he had learned that Ralph Caryl was in the house. She knew that the detective was try- ing to discover if there had been a rivalry between the two men concern- ing her, and all the time she knew there was hatred between them before | she had ever known them— knew it} and trembled. Not that she had one | suspicion of Rothesay’s guilt, but she | feared that others might have. “You see plainly that if Rothesay was in the vicinity of the spot where the crime was committed that sus- picion will attach to him, Miss Purcell, for the two men are known to have quarreled and to have disliked each otherme But without doubt, Rothesay | ean prove that he was not near Bos- j ton.” The detective’s eyes rested upon the girl.as he spoke. He saw that her very lips grew white, and that they appeared so stiff as to frame with difficulty the words: “Without doubt he can prove that.” “She fears for him—she loves him,” thought Loud, and he half envied Rothesay. “Then there will be no difficulty for him, and the case will still remain very dark. I will intrude upon you only long enough now to ask where Rothesay was going when he left! here.” “To Philadelphia. He was to be! married as soon as he was well enough.” “You doubtless have his address?” “Yes. My father was to see that his horse was cared for properly and he left the address.” As she spoke, Kate rose, and going to a shelf took from it a card and handed it to Loud- He copied the words on it: i “Vance Rothesay, Girard House, Phila.” dress of the lady whom he was going to marry, it would be of great service to me,” said the detectivé, as he) handed back the card. “It is Miss Laura Lauriat, No. —— Locust strect.” ‘Thanks; I shall soon have the pleas- ure of informing you that Mr. Rothe- say has proved an. unimpeachable alibi.” Mr. Loud bowed low and left the house, hurrying through the darkness up to the village, where he had learned there was a telegraph office. As for Kate Purcell, she stood a moment with her hand leaning on the table as Loud had left her. Her face grew white and more icy as she stood, then she tottered, and fell to the floor, senseless, in a deep swoon. CHAPTER XV. The Answer to the Telegram. The detective ran part of the way to the village, he was so fearful that the telegraph office was closed. He stumbled and fell in the darkness, but he pushed on and entered the store where the telegraph was, just as the man was locking the door. “I want to send a telegram,” Loud, panting up the steps. “Too late, it’s nine o’clock,” turning the key. “But I must, so don’t delay longer; open the door.” Loud spoke with such authority that the man obeyed, but sullenly. He went up to his desk and pushed a piece of paper toward Loud. “Hurry up, then,’ he said, snap- pishly. said Loud wrote two messages to Phila- | delphia, one to a fellow detective at the Girard House, and one ta. the num- | ber on Locust street which Kate Pur- cell had given him. Both messages were the same. “Was Vance Rothesay there on the | 16th?” “If he was there on the 16th he could not possibly have reached Bos- ton at time the deed was done,” was the decision of Loud. He knew that he could not get an answer before morning, so he walked leisurely over the way back, musing on the things he had heard. Notwithstanding his assurance to Kate, he had strong suspicions that this Rothesay was the guilty one. He believed from the fisherman’s story of the blow at the depot that Rothesay {had an old feud with Ralph Caryl, and that when Caryl came trying to flirt with Kate Purcell it was too much for Rothesay to bear. “No doubt Caryl was an unmiti- gated scamp,” solilquized Loud, “but then we haven’t the privilege of kill- ing these scamps. Yes, I own, I strongly suspect Rothesay. Let us wait until morning and hear what the answer is.” So strongly interested was he that he found it hard to sleep as he ordi- narily did while on such a search. “Confound it,” he said, more than once in the night. “Confound it! I wish I could get that girl’s face out of my head. I begin to wish for her alibi, and a detective should have no such feelings. He did not sleep so late, but he was up at the store before it opened. He had addressed his telegram to an officer in Philadelphia whom he knew, and he was sure that man would discover the facts the same evening of receiving the message, and send an answer the earliest moment in the morning. He waited an hour, and began secretly to fret although his visage was very calm as he sat on the counter swinging his legs and reading the local paper. Finally, an imperative “tick. tick,” from the operating room summoned the man. Loud did not know when he had been so excited as he was then, waiting for the mysterious workings of the wire. . “To Henry Loud, Colton, Mass.: /| awaited his answer. Vance Rothesay has not been at Gi- | rard House, nor at Lauriat’s for sev- eral months. When last heard of was ill at Colton, Mass.” Loud felt his heart sink within him as he took the paper on which the operator had scribbled these lines. He thrust them into his pocket, and was turning away, when the click of the telegraph instrument recalled him. “To Henry Loud, Colton, Mass.: If you know anything of Vance Rothesay | for God’s sake send word instantly to | Charles Lauriat.” Then followed an address on Chest- nut street, which Loud thought to be the business address of Lauriat. It was plain that Loud’s associate officer had aroused the suspicions of the father of the girl to whom Rothesay was to be married—plain that Miss Lauriat must have been looking for the arrival of her lover, and that she could hear nothing of him. Certainly the case for Vance Rothe- say was assuming a hard look. He had started for Philadelphia, he had told the Purcells that he was going there, his expectant bride awaited him but nothing could be heard from him. desiring to be alone to think of this new phase—which he had indeed, half expected. He walked slowly, with his head bent, his hands clasped behind him. “I shall go back to that girl. I will tell her this message and watch from deciding whether she loves him or not. Of one thing I am sure— that the girl whom Vance Rothesay loves will know where he is concealed, and I’m quite sure that girl won’t be Laura Lauriat.” Loud walked toward the beach past the house where he had seen Kate Purcell. The doors were open, and he saw her about her household affairs. “Let us see how she looks by the daylight,” he muttered; “and now I shall know surely whether she loves him of not.” He advanced, and paused at the open door. “Good-morning, Miss Purcell, I see you are up early as well as I,” he said. He was struck by her pallor, by the dark circles about her eyes, He bey § vp deeds | with bent head, and hands clasped be- | self. her face. She really prevented me | k20w?” speaking in a low voice, as | worked last. We made a mistake be- could imagine what kind of a night she had passed from seeing that face. She did not disguise the interest she felt. She came to the door, “Have you any news?” she asked. She had been sweeping, and leaned heavily on the broom as she The detective, unimpressionable as he was, felt a thrill of almost tender admiration as he looked at her face, which was beautiful even in its pal- lor and anxiety. “Yes, I have news,” he said, hating to say what that news was. “Mr. Rothesay was in Philadel- phia?” she said, in a very low voice. “Unfortunately, no. He has not been there for some months. Read those.” And he put into her hands the two messages he had just received. As her eyes glanced over them, she pressed her hand to her heart, and an expression of the keenest anguish passed over her face. But she stood steadily there, though it was a moment before she could command her voice to speak. When she did, it was to say, coldly: “You think him guilty. That fs because you do not know him.” “I think circumstanceslook bad for him. You must own that, yourself, Miss Purcell.” Kate did not reply, She turned and sat down, unable longer to stand. Loud saw that his presence torment- ed her, but he longed to settle it in his own mind as to whether she knew anything of the whereabouts of Rothesay. “Do not look upon me as his enemy,” he said, at last, deprecatingly. “It is true it is my business to suspect where there seems reason for such suspicion, but it is equally true that almost invariably my efforts to let light in upon these dark matters clear suspected innocence. It is im- possible now but that Rothesay be suspected; but Miss Purcell, I beg you to bear in mind that I shall not shall not strive to convict him—I, only try to find the truth; and in the inter- est of that truth, I ask you, who feel | sure of this man’s innocence, if you can tell me anything that can guide me in my search.” Loud’s eyes, searching as a flame, were fixed on the girl’s face. Her | heart beat in such tumultuous pulsa- tions as to almost suffocate her. Her face was ashy white; her delicately curved, full lips, usually so crimson, were colorless as her face. “T have nothing to tell you,” she said, at last. “Very well, I will not intrude upon you longer,” and Loud turned away. As he did so, Dick Burt came in at the other door of the house. He saw Kate standing at the open door, | her face turned toward the outer air, as one blind will turn the face toward the light, seeing nothing. Burt paused a moment, awed by the and attitude. She had not heard him, and he soft- ly stole out and looked down the road in the direction in which that blank gaze had been fixed. He saw a middle-aged man, walking hind him. “I don’t know him,” he said to him- “It can’t be that man who has made her look like that. It’s time I hurried up matters a little, She’s getting farther and farther from me every day. I'll put the screws on Purcell tighter. I can’t say I’m sorry Caryl is out of the way. He promised me help, but I always doubted his help. Rothesay is gone also. Im glad I didn’t have a row with Caryl just before he got knocked in the head. I’m all right, and now seems to be the time for me to work. If Kate has had a fancy, I’ll catch her heart in the rebound, as they tel about.” Thus speaking, Burt went down to the water, dragged a boat down to the water’s edge, and then jumped in, rowing rapidly out in the direction where he knew Purcell had gone fishing. For some reason for the last few weeks—ever since that chest with its strange contents had been discovered —Purcell had not been so eager, at least in action, concerning the buried treasure, and he had roused himself to work more at his calling. He was in one of those stages which come to all dreamers, when they wake to the reality of life and work before them—wake, perhaps, to fall into their visions again. Burt knew the weakness of the man’s mind, and he had played effect- ually upon it in times gone by. He believed, with reason, that he could do it again. He saw Purcell’s boat anchored off the “black ledge,” and he leisurely pulled, sure of finding his man. As he came nearer he saw_ that Purcell was not fishing, but sitting with head bent, and hands clasped on both knees. \ A disagreeable smile came to Burt’s Purcell was again bent upon dreams and calculations. “What luck to-day, Purcell?” he asked, as he brought his boat along- side the other one, Purcell started violently, claimed, irritably: “How you come upon one, Dick! There’s a couple o’ dozen. perch, but they are not of much account. What does this fishing amount to? I might fish every hour of the day all my\life, and never get more money than enough to feed and clothe us shab- bily.” “That’s true enough,” Dick. try and ex- responded “Have you decided where to again—for the treasure, you if even there in that solitude of water they might be overheard. Purcell’s preoccupied face bright- ened; his hands moved restlessly. “I have been making my calcula- tions, Dick. The spot must be ten feet west of the place where we fore; I see where it was we missed the mark.” And Purcell went on, excitedly, to explain why they had failed before. Burt listened, with not a _ very strong semblance of interest, and when the old man ceased speaking, he said: “I hope we shall find, the treasure, | I'm sure, but it begins to seem to me as mighty uncertain business, and I'm getting uncomfortably short of terrible agony in Kate’s countenance | - Purcell looked up ‘in utter amaze- ment, and said: | “You know I can’t. I haven't five dollars in morey in the world.” “That's a tough lookout for me, then, I vow,” cried Burt, crossly, “when you know you owe me several hundred already.” “Yes; but you know, I was going to pay you—and with good interest, too—out of the treasure we are sure to find.” “When?” “Soon—within a week or two now, at farthest,” was the reply, in a tone of expectation sad to hear. “Pshaw! I can’t wait so long.” ‘ Purcell looked distressed, but re- mained silent, and in a moment Dick said: “Tf you'd help me along a little with Kate, now.” “Kate is not so manageable as you seem to think,” was the response, “and of late she is more stubborn than ever.” “What's the reason of that?” asked Burt, with a quick look of alarm, his anger and impatience showing still more plainly. “The reason!” repeated Purcell. “Don’t ask me for a girl’s reason. I suppose it’s a freak of hers.” “It’s time we stopped those little freaks of hers, and made her show a little reason. Don’t you think so?” Purcell, who had shown a little ayi- mation in his last reply, now seemed far away in thought—evidently again making calculations concerning the buried treasure. (To Be Continued.) CATARRH, COUGHS, A Practical Philanthropist. Miss Helen M. Gould, the eldest daughter of the late Jay Gould, is as thoughtful as she is philanthropic, and apparently lives to do good. Last year, instead of following her usual custom of giving turkeys on Thanks- giving day to the numerous employes of her estate at Tarrytown, N. Y., she varied the program, in view of the scarcity of fuel, and gave to each of the employes an oil stove, a barrel of kerosene, another of potatoes, a barrel of flour and a guantity of bacon. Miss Gould, like her late father, has a very ALAAAAAAALAAAA LAMAR teeta ae New York, reads as follows : “Yes, poor old sport; when he “I money he had a good time, but ne | went broke.” “Then starved?” . “t should say not. He secured aj Interesting Letters from aptenuaia position in a swell boarding Catholic Institutions. ouse. a “What doing?” In every country of the civilized world “Just has to sit around in the board- | the Sisters of Charity are known. Not only ing house parlor posing as the star do they minister to the boarder, meanwhile complaining loud- spiritual and intellectual ly before prospective boarders of the needs of the charges com- itted to their care, but bad case of gout contracted there,.”— bp Par "hei Baltimore Herald. they also minister to their bodly needs. With so Sree RON tare many children to take care The Lower the Higher. of and to protect from climate and disease, “The fashions in women’s dress,” these wise and prudent sisters have found reads Mrs. Fijjit, “for next fall will be | Peruna a never-failing safeguard. even more extreme than those of last Dr. Hartman receives many letters from winter. They will leave very little to Catholic Sisters from all over the United the imagination.” States, A recommend recently received “Is that so?” asks Mr. Fijiit. “well, from a Catholicinstitution in Detroit, Mich., J can’t imagine yet where I’m going to reads as follows : get the money to pay for what yor Dear Sir:—‘‘The young girl whoused practical turn of mind.—Leslie’g TT Weekly. | Dr. S. B. Hartman, Columbus, Ohio: see reed Dear Sir:—‘‘ 1 cannot say too much in praise of Peruna. Still Useful. SISTERS OF CHARIT _ RELY ON PE-RU-NA TO FIGHT COLDS AND GRIP. vrs FUUUVSUUUUVUNVUYUNTTUTTTUTUVIVUILIUITTUTIVENTTYVETUVTTYVYTTYTTVITTTTVICYYTTVITYTVESTTTYVEVETEVINYTYTTYYTTTTTTYTY A letter recently received by Dr. Hartman from Sister Beatrix, 410 W. 30th street, i ATTY TTY TY TTY TTY TTT TET TTT FPEYTYYLY TTYL Y TY PVT YTV YT TTY T YY TTYY TTT TT ITTY 1771 Eight ttn | of it cured me of catarrh of the lungs of four years standing, and I would £ not have been without it for anything. It helped several Sisters of Coughs E and colds and I have yet to find one case of catarrh that it does not cure.” SISTER BEATRIX. puSeuecureccuceuvuccevevevevyreueveeveresrvereerervecvecturveecdycustccecesvevvverurcursens the Peruna was suffering from laryngi« tis, and loss of voice. The result of the treatment was most satisfactory. She found great relief, and after farther use of the medicine we hope to be able to say she is entirely cured.’’—Sisters ot Charity. This young girl was under the care of the Sisters of Charity and used Peruna for catarrh of the throat, with good results as the above letter testifies. From a Catholic institution in Cen- tral Ohio comes the following recom- mend from the Sister Superior. If you do not derive prompt and satis- factory results from the use of Peruana, write at once to Dr. Hartman, giving a full statement of your case, and he will be pleased to give you his valuable advice lips as he saw and knew that Charles |, Dr. S. B. Hartman, Columbus, Ohio: wore last winter.”—Judge. An Expert Opinion. Cohen (to fellow traveler)—Vot line of goots do you represent, mein friendt? Dr. Dippem (stiffly)—Well, sir, I am collecting funds to send to our foreign missionaries. Cohen—You’ve got the best end of that job!—New York Times. Se ey The Ruin Water Worked. “I don’t see why Shoddyman is kick- ing so about the firemen deluging his factory with water. They got the fire out all right before it did much dam- age.” but the water ruined his “What does he manufacture?” “Umbrellas.”—Cincinnati Commer- cial Tribune, Slow. Casey (the stonemason)—Phwat’s the row below? Cassidy (the hod carrier)—Shure, English Jim just fell from the second flure t’ the basement. Casey—Thot’s an Englishman for ye. Shure, it was two hours ago I tould him a joke, and it took him all this toime to tumble.—Philadelphia Press. At the Exhibition. Miss Nareeve—Why, Mr. D’Auber, why do they hang your picture way up there next the ceiling? D’Auber—It’s so fascinating, you know, people couldn’t keep their hands off it if it were within reach. Miss Nareeve—Oh, I see; but, real- ly, they can’t feel so murderous about it as that.—Boston T: cript. Had a Fair,Chance. “How do you suppose Methuseleh gratis. Address Dr. Hartman, President of The Hartman Sanitarium, Columbus, Ohio. IT TAKES. THE ACHES out of muscles and joints. Heals old sores. Takes inflammation out of burns and bruises. Stops any pain that a perfect liniment can stop. MEXICAN MUSTANG LINIMENT for injuries or aches of MAN or BEAST. A Misunderstanding. Kittie—Why did you send me a check for $100? Henry—Why, to relieve your neces- sities. with misfortune. Why didn’t you in- form me sooner? “What are-you talking cbout?” “About you. You wired me, you know, that you had been taking in washing and was all fagged out.” “Taking in washing! Oh, you boo- by—you dunce,'you! Ha-ha-ha—it is too funny. I wired you I had been taking in Washington!” Looking in the Wrong Place. “Is he a young man of brains?” in- quired an old gentleman respecting a swell youth. “Well ,really,” replied the daughter, “I have had no opportunity of judging. I never met him anywhere except in society.”—Tid-Bits. Mother Gray's Sweet Powders for Children Successfuly used by Mother Gray, nurse in the Children’s Home in New York. Cures Feverishness, Bad Stom- ach, Teething Disorders, move and reg- ulate the Bowels and Destroy Worms, Over 30,000 testimonials. At all drug- managed to reach such a great age?” “Why, everything was in his favor. There were no automobiles, no trol- ley cars, or operations for appendici- tis, or health foods in those days.”— Exchange. A Sordid Estimate. “Don’t you think that you are mak- ing an ill-advised display of wealth?” said the friend. “No,” answered Senator Sorghum; “I don’t think my friends at home care very much for self-denial and simplic- ity. I want to let ’em know that if I need the votes I’ve got the cash to puy ‘em.”—Washington Star. One of Her Strong Scenes. “The soubrette says she is really , pest in emotional parts.” “So she is. I saw her giving the! manager a piece of her mind the other | day with so much force that he was moved to increase her salary.”—Ex- change. ‘ Wonderful. “Szo! Miss Mary, dey téll me dat yea shall tell my gharacter by my handt!” ' “Well ,to begin with, you’re a Ger- cash. Can you let me have forty or fifty dollars this morning?” ,man—” “Ach! it is yonderful!”—Tid-Rits, gists, 25c. Sample FREE. Address Allen S. Olmsted, LeRoy, N. L. A Guess. “This is the laundry,” said the agent who was showing them through the house. “Here, you see, are stationary wash tubs.” “Ah, why do you call them station- ary?” inquired the bride-to-be; “is it because colored goods won’t run in them?”—Philadelphia Press. S Philosophy. “Your son is a phitosophical student, IT hear?” “Yes, I believe he is. I can’t under- stand what he’s talking about.”—De- troit Free Press. d Naturally Follows. She (quoting)—Into the mouth of hell rode the Six Hundred. aed He—They must have ridden at the devil’s own gate.—Exchange. F. E. Garvin of Indianapolis, ’73, is the president of the Associated Har- vard clubs of the United States. The average man don’t care what you think of him as long as you don’t say it. I didn’t, know you had met} Two good listeners may be friends, but two good talkers—never. Cuts and Burns happen unexpectedly to the little ones and to the grown-ups. The sure cure that stops the pain and heals without a scar is G@les G@xbolisalve Having it near when needed has saved much suffering. It's good for other things, Keep a box handy, 2% and 60 cts by draggists, or mailed on recei prive by J. W. Oole € Gon Slack Haver Baie Wor A free sample for the asking. 210 Kinds for 16e, It isa fact that; "a seeds are found in more gardens and on more farms th: any other in Tar Grass, 1 ete -alt for ASthis notice. ‘Onion sced at but 600. a pound. D JOHN A. SALZER SEED Ci La Crosse, Wis. is irafiicted with sore eyes, wet FHOMpson’s Eye Water —NO.7— 1903. Le ft