Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, August 27, 1904, Page 3

Tom Gallon 0000000008 CHAPTER XVII. (Continued.) “My good man, you knew where to find the body—you came straight to it —you were evidently looking for it. I suggest, as our legal friends would say, that you’ve been here before to- night. What's that in your hand?” he asked, sharply. Ormany tried to conceal that hand, wut the long arm of Roger Hawiey darted out and a hand caught the oth- er’s wrist, turned it up sharply and disclosed the knife gripped in the fin- gers. So startled was Mr. Ormany that the knife dropped from his hand, and he sat there on his heels, breath- ing hard and looking furtively at the other man. “Not. quite a clean way of doing things, my friend,” said Roger Haw- ley, catching up tho knife and tossing it away into the bushes. “Our friend, not being quite so dead as you thought him, is to be finished off, eh? Rather lucky I happened to be here, I think.” “Look ’ere, guv’nor, if you think you're goin’ to talk to me an’ to tell me—” Neal Ormany had staggered to his feet and had made threateningly to- wards the other; he stopped and fell back when he saw that Roger Hawley had not moved, but was looking at him along the barrel of a very serv- iceable revolver. “Threaten. me, you dog, will you?” he said. “Trying to do what I coula for our friend here, I discovered that he went heeled, as they say in the States. I removed his weapon in case of accidents. Now, tell me what you know.” Neal Ormany, on his knees, stam- mered out the confession, omitting only any mention of the money which had been paid him. Roger Hawley nodded grimly over the tale; he re- membered the threat made by Owen Jaggard to visit Grace Yarwood at the house after the fire; this had evident- ly been the result. He laughed in his throat and made up his mind what to do. “So you've told that lady that our friend here was dead and buried, eh?” he said, at last, toying with the pistol and smiling grimly. ‘Not bad on your part, my gipsy; you’ve got the real in- stinct for this kind of business, evi- | dently. And you were so loyal to Miss Grace Yarwood that you made up your mind to finish off the poor wretch and get rid of him, eh? Now, it doesn’t suit me to get rid of him at all,” he added, getting leisurely to his feet and coming nearer to the cringing Neal Ormany ‘ “He may be useful—and al- though I don’t care a twopence for him, or any other man, I think we'll try and save him. I say ‘we’ advised- ly, because you shall help.” “Not me,” exclaimed Mr. Ormany, quickly. “ve doye with this ’ere; I’m going to clear out, I am.” “By ali means, if you like,” said Roger, coolly; and to-morrow T have | the country scoured for a gipsy whose knife lies in those bushes over there, and who was seen by me kneeling be- side the body. Why, look at yur hands, man, there’s blood on them now!” “{ give in, guv’nor; you're too much for me,” said the man, with a shiver. “What d’you want me to do?” “You have told Miss Yarwood that the man she struck is dead; let her think so. For my part, I mean to try and keep him alive; he will probably be useful in a certain complicated story in which I am involved. The question is, where can we put him? You know these woods as well as I do, but it is some years since I was here.” “There’s a keeper’s hut about a quarter of a mile from ‘ere, straight , w'ere no one ever goes; there n’t been a soul in it for months; a we could ‘ide ‘im there. It’s only a sort of wooden shanty; used to be used for night watching.” “The very thing,” said Roger Haw- ley, quickly. “He’s in a pretty bad way, but we may manage to keep a little life in him for a day or two. Let us see what can be done witf this flask of mine.” He raised the head of Owen Jaggard and forced some brandy between his lips; some slight color seemed to come into the face in the faint light of the moon. One arm, when they tried to raise him, hung limp and helpless and broken; but they got him up be- tween them and started on_ their march through the woods. They found the hut—another re- minder of the great estate that had been kept up so splendidly once, but had been allowed to go to ruin, so far as the grounds. were concerned—and carried Jaggard in and laid him down there, on a rough cot bedstead stand- ing in one corner; the hit had but one room. Then Roger Hawley turn- ed to the gipsy. “Can you wait here and look after him?” he asked. “I think you can be trusted now—for the sake of your own neck,” he added. “T can’t wait to-night,” said Ormany. “I've work to do—some one to meet. I'll come back—another time.” “Very good; I'll wait myself,” said Roger Hawley, as the man left the hut. He sat for some time looking down at the broken figure on the bed; at last he got up and leant over him. “Jaggard—Owen Jaggard! Can you hear me?” OOOOOOOOOOORoDOooOCoooo “T wonder,” said Roger Hawley qui- etly to himself—“I really wonder if you'll ever speak again, and what you'll say?” CHAPTER XVIII. Absalom Comes to Grief. Mr. Stock, most careful and method- ical of lawyers, did a curious thing on that night ‘which saw the escape of David Yarwood out of the hands of Joyce Bland. Ordinarily a man who was in bed every night of the year by half-past ten at the latest, on this oc- easion he broke his rule by not going to bed at all. Instead he sat up in that room on the ground floor which he had appropriated, and stared long over the top of his spectacles at noth- ing in particular, and shook his head a great deal. He summed up the situ- ation in his own mind at about five in the morning, long before the house was stirring. “The real Grace Yarwood should have been tall and fair. No evidence —but valuable in a certain sense at such a time as this. On the other hand, there are the papers, clear proof legally that the small dark woman is the rightful owner of Hawley Park. But I don’t like this escape on the part of David Yarwood; I don’t like it at all.” He walked about the room for a time, shaking his head over it a great deal; then stopped suddenly, and, with folded arms, struck out another point. “When I met her outside the room in which old Yarwood had been, she told me that her father was gone. Now, she didn’t know that I had been wandering about in the dark there and had seen her come straight up that small staircase from the grounds. The question is: how did she know that the man was gone? Come to that, I wouldn’t be surprised if she smug- gled him out herself. But, again— why? Is it possible that, having used the man as a witness on one neces- sary occasion, she wanted to get rid of him? And, in any case, how did she come to light on him in London?” More serious pacing to and fro, and more anxious shaking of the head on the part of Mr. Stock. Presently he stopped again and began to hammer away at another point. “Then, again, if the fair girl is an imposter, why did she spring in a mo- ment upon a man who must in any case have been a stranger to her and hail him as ‘father?’ Why, for. in- stance, ifshed got to make a guess at it, didn’t she jump at me as being an elderly man old enough to be her father? Why, unless she was sure of him, should she select that decrepit old creature stuck away in a corner? If ever I saw any real emotion in this world with no acting in it, I saw it when she threw herself at his feet. And yet, on the other hand, why did he turn to the little dark one? Oh, ! it’s a very pretty puzzle!” It was such a pretty puzzle that Mr. Stock failed to unravel it in the course of a long night. Curiously enough, he came to one definite conclusion, and one only, and that was a wrong one— he came firmly to believe that Joyce had got rid of old David Yarwood for some hjdden’ purpose of her own. |He thought in all probability that she feared he might be subjected to a closer examination, and might betray something she wished kept secret. Having, in that very unprecedented fashion, remained up all night, and re- membering that he must be ready to start for London at an early hour, the lawyer went to his room soon after six o’clock and made some changes in his dress and came down again. Won- dering how he should kill time, and finding that the morning air was fair and bright, he decided to go out, and presently found himself on the ter- race outside the house, looking in a critical fashion at the sky, as though he thought some inspiration might be gathered from that. Suddenly the man stiffened, as though coming to some new resolu- tion. He glanced round at the house, as though to be certain that he was not observed, and then, carelessly humming a tune, strolled off along the terrace until he was out of sight of the windows. No sooner had he accomplished that than he turned quickly and went off at a smart pace under cover of the trees towards the gipsy camp lying below in the woods. “Tl see the other girl,” he said, with a determined nod. ‘Let me see; Raymond said it was down this road, and then I had to branch off at the second path through the woods on my right—didn’t he? Perhaps, if I ean get the young lady alone, I may be able to find out more than I have already. It’s unprofessional, and it is certainly going behind one’s cli- ent, in a manner of speaking; but it can’t be helped. I only hope I shan’t lose my way and be late for break- fast; I hate being late for breakfast.” He was destined not to lose his way; at a turn in the path he came suddenly, upon Raymond Hawley, strolling listlessly along in front of him. They exchanged greetings, and ithe lawyer put his hand on the shoulder of Raymond in his patroniz- ing, fatherly way and pushed the young man ‘on before him. No answer; only the restless move- ment of the head—only a faint moan from the white lips. “I was just thinking about you,” ae Mr. Stock. “I was just trying to remember the direction you gave have I,” said the lawyer, arity. “very unprofessional; because, of course, I’m not in love with the lady, and you are. It’s a curious thing,” he added, pursing up his lips and look- ing over the top of his spectacles at the landscape as though taking it into his confidence—‘it’s a very curious thing that love should keep a man awake. So far as my _ recollection goes I never slept better in my life than when I was engaged to Mrs. Stock. I suppose she must have had a soothing influence on me. However, that has nothing to do on the question of the moment, has it? Which re- minds me that Mr. David Yarwood has disappeared again.” What, from the house?” asked Ray- mond. “From the house,” said the lawyer. “Then perhaps he has, after all, gone to Grace; perhaps he has repent- ed of his fraud—” “You still believe it to be a fraud, then?” asked Mr. Stock. “I am certain of it,” replied Ray- mond. “You don’t know Grace, or you wouldn’t hesitate for a moment.” “Pity she hasn’t any proof of her statement; pity that the man _ she claims as her father refuses to ac- knowledge her,” said the lawyer. ~* Raymond Hawley was about to make a_ heated reply, when they were both stopped by an ap- parition approaching them from the direction of the camp; the apparition took the form of a little man with a very large head, which seemed to roll from side to side on his shoulders as he hurried along. - In one hand he car- ried a broad, wideawake hat, flapping in the breeze; with the other hand he made gestures of despair every now and then, and he seemed to be talking to himself at a very great rate. He was in such a state of excitement that he ran plump into them before he saw that any one was in the road at all; then he immediately put on his hat as soon as he recognized them, and commenced to argue at a great rate without giving them an oppor- tunity to put in a word. “Let me assure you, my dear sir,” he began, seizing hold of a button on Raymond’s coat and addressing him- self to it, and to it only, as though it were a kind of fetish to be propitiated —‘let me assure you that I am not in any sense of the word to blame. Blame, if you will, those natural im- pulses by which I am at all times guided, but do not blame me. Five pounds was the sum, and I can assure you at once that it has been well ex- pended, if only as an educational asset for my son Absalom.” “What in the world is he talking about?” asked Mr. Stock, looking in bewilderment at Rawmond. “Had I only taken the advice of Mrs. Tapney all might have been well’ continued the professor, still talking earnestly to the button, “but I was carried away.” “So long as you haven't carried away any one else it doesn’t matter very much,” said Mr. Stock, grimly. “If you will be good enough to come out of the clouds for a moment and stop your mental ballooning, we may be able to get at what has happened. What do you expect to be blamed for?” “When I saw you last night, Mr. ‘Tapney,” said Raymond, “you were to be ready and watchful in case any danger threatened Miss Yarwood.” “Oh, Lord—these lovers,” murmured Mr. Stock, with a groan. “Now, please tell me what has hap- pened and what you have done,” went on Raymond, eagerly. “Last night there came to the camp a certain’ mysterious personage— father of several daughters—Mr. Yar. wood,” said the professor, taking off his hat and fanning himself with it. “He recognized in a moment that he had at last, after various unsuccessful attempts, discovered his real daugh- ter; hitherto he had been a little doubtful about the matter.” “So that accounts for David Yar- wood,” said Mr. Stock, with a glance at Raymond. “Pray proceed, Mr. Tap- ney, and as briefly as possible.” “They met, they embraced—all seem- ed well. But I had been, entrusted with a mission, and with the mone) wherewith to perform that mission. The demon of doubt entered into my breast, and I saw in this man one who might change his opinions concerning his daughter to-morrow and cause fresh complications. So I got rid of him.” “Got rid of him?” they echoed, to- gether. “With the best intentions in the world, and with the desire to avoid everything which did not make abso- lutely for simplicity. He was a wit- ness, gentlemen, who did not know his own mind—¢rgo (to descend for a moment into the Latin), a danger- ous witness. Having been paid to perform a certain service, I got rid. of him.” “Yes, yes; Stock. The professor related, with much detail, how he had dispatched his son on the road to London with instruc- tions to lose the unfortunate David Yarwood at the earliest opportunity; and how confident he was that the in- telligent Absalom would perform that duty to the letter. While they stared helplessly at each other, the little man broke in excitedly again with an ac- count of another disaster. “But that, gentlemen, is not the worst,” he said. “No sooner was my son, with his companion, lost as it were in the wilds of Nature—swal- lowed up in her enfolding, embrace— than Miss Yarwood, in a Yery incon- but how?” asked Mr. pigorn ial course, my ‘son pei 2 there. Then I discovered that I had in my ’ zeal ena a blunder; I confess it, for the first time in my life I had madea blun- der.” “J should think you had,” said Ray- mond; you’ve upset everything.” “{ will atone for that; I will repair any damage I have done at the cost, if necessary, of my life,” said the pro- fessor, dramatically. “But first let me say that Miss Yarwood had told me that her father was prepared at once to take up her cause, to explain who she was, and to put everything right for her; so much they had ar- ranged. And now, of course, he’s gone.” . “Well, he must be found,” said Mr. Stock, quickly. “I begin to see that here is the end coming,” he added to Raymond, in a lower tone; “if only we can get hold of Yarwood again. Well, sir,” he went on, sternly, to the professor, “have you any other con- fession to make? Pray do not spare us.” “You will be relieved by my next piece of intelligence,” said the profes- sor, smiling in a grateful manner. “No sooner does Miss Yarwood find that her father has gone than she immedi- ately goes after him. Beautiful affec- tion!” “Goes after him?” cried Raymond. “Yes; started off but a short time ago. It seems that she confided her intention to my wife, but refused to say where she was going. She only said that it would be all right.” “You appear to forget, my good man, that even you don’t know where Mr. David Yarwood is,” said Mr. Stock. “True; point,” said the professor, again in a moment. “So that we arrive at this position,” said Mr. Stock, “that the father is gone and the girl also, and we are not quite so well off as regards getting to the bottom of the mystery as we were yesterday. Prof. Tapney, what is your real business in this world?” “My real business, sir,” said the pro- fessor, pompously, “is that of a stu- dent of Nature.. In other words, I watch Nature and I snatch a living from her. I am by profession a na- turalist—a taxidermist.” “Then I wish to goodness you'd stick to it!” said Mr. Stock. “You're rath- er too impulsive to deal with anything but Nature herself—and even there I should think you’d get yourself into difficulties sometimes.’ It was, of course, useless to go down to the camp. Mr. Stock and Raymond Hawley held a hurried con- sultation, while the little professor, looking very dejected, stood at some distanee from them, fanning himself with his hat. “I can’t understand it at all,” said Mr. Stock in a perplexed tone. “Why should she start off like that without having any inkling of where her fath- er was? If we are to trust this man— and I think there is nothing of the rogue in him—David Yarwood was smuggled away in quite a secret fash- jon, without having any opportunity of speaking to his daughter. In any case, according to what Tapney says, she was obviously distressed at losing Him, and yet was able to start out at once to -find him. Frankly, my dear Raymond, I don’t like it.” “Do you mean that you suspect something or some one?” asked. Ray- mond. “My dear boy, I don’t want to alarm you, but look at the circumstances,” said Mr. Stock. “Granting for a mo; ment that the lady up at the house is an imposter, and that old Yarwood has escaped out of her hands, her ob- ject would be to get rid of the other woman. More than that, it would be to get rid of them both; and this little I had forgotten that little damped fool here has innocently helped her in , How do we know what | one direction. agent she has or who is working for her? Grant for a moment that she is an adventuress; what do we know about her past?” “But she wouldn’t dare—” “My dear boy, a woman like that would dare anything. Always suppos- ing, that is,” added the other, cau- tious—“always supposing that she is an imposter. If she is not, she should feel secure enough not to resort to tricks. Now, I wonder,” he went on, musingly, “I wonder if this Prof. Tap- ney would be able to lay his hands on his son? It’s not likely—and yet he ' might know of some haunt of the lad’s to which he would be likely to go. We'll try him.” The professor, ingly, was at first absolutely certain that his son would make his way straight, on reaching London, to the nearest scientific institution; he sug- gested the Natural History Museum at South Kensington. “I am not a bet- ting man,” said the professor, solemn- ly, “but I am prepared to state that Absalom will be discovered among the glass cases of that institution. In my mind’s eye I can see him there.” “How old is your son?” asked Mr. Stock, dryly. “My son is in his eighteenth year,” said the professor. “To be precise, he was born at ten minutes to four olock on the—” “Yes; never mind that now,” broke in the lawyer. “In his eighteenth year; and how much money had he with him?” “Five pounds,” said the professor, innocently. “What has that to do with it? Except on certain days the museums are free.” “Other places are not,” said Stock. “I think we will try London, Prof. Tapney, and we will try the music halls first.” interviewed accord- | will draw blank. Tr snow! Absalon “I do not know Absalom, bac I re: member that he is in his eighteenth year, that he has not had a chance be- fore, and that he has five pounds and nothing particular to do.” “Except to lose David Yarwood,” said Raymond, bitterly. “Prof. Tapney, I am prepared to make you an offer,” said Mr. Stock. after ruminating over it for a moment or two. “You have—quite innocently, I will admit—done us a wrong; I am| quite ‘willing to believe that you will do all in your power to repair that wrong.” “Anything—everything,” exclaimed the professor. “Let Mrs. Tapney re- gard me in the future as a sort of wan- dering Jew, who must not come near her and who is forever seeking David Yarwood; let my son—roaming inno- cently about the Natural History Mu- seum at South Kensington—believe that. his father has perished in the pursuit of duty, and may perchance grace the walls somewhere as an in- teresting skeleton; but let me do all in my power to serve you. Command me—I leave Nature to take care of| herself in a better fashion than she has ever taken care of me—and I go with you. My banner is_ inscribed ‘David Yarwood,’ and the sword of duty is firmly in my grasp!” “Very good,’ said Mr. Stock. “If you have any one down below in the camp to warn’ of your going—pray be quick about it; there is a train leaves at nine, and I should like to catch it. Raymond, you can do no good here; will you come with us?” “With all my heart,” exclaimed the young man. “I will be at the station in time to meet you.” So Mr. Stock, after warning Prof. Tapney to be at the station also, took his way back to the house, deter- mined that under any circumstances the supposed Grace Yarwood should have ng cause to be suspicious about him. He had said that he was going to London that morning, and he could quietly fulfill his purpose in the most natural way. (To Be Continued.) SPOOK OPENED SAFE. Transmitted Combination From th. Other World. After resisting the skill of two ex- perts connected with the treasury de- partment, a small safe belonging to Col. J. Eldredge Smith, an inventor, who died recently in Washington, D. C., has been opened, and now the only question is whether it was opened in answer to Mrs. Smith’s prayers or through information coming direct from Col. Smith to S. Clark Swett, a Spiritualistic medium, but Mr. Swett under whse direction the safe door swung open, says it was nothing else. The little safe contained all the val- uable papers belonging to Col. Smith, and he was the only one who knew the combination. Experts gave it up as a bad job. Then Mr. Swett said he would try. Swett says he has been a Spiritual- ist for forty years, and has about twen- ty-five “spirit guides.” One of the guides, he says, is an Indian girl, and she is the one, he states, who saw Col. Smith in the other world and got from him the combination and transmitted it, thus enabling the safe to be open: ed.—Detroit Tribune. GIVING AWAY CIGARS. Circumstances Under Which Dealers Pass Out Smokers Free. Into a cigar store came a man to whom, after a few words with him, the dealer handed over a cigar, which the man lighted and walked off smoking. but without paying for it. “Do you give away cigars?” asked a customer who had just bought a cigar. “Why, sure,” said the dealer, “‘some- times.” “Tramps?” “No, not tramps. We coukin’t have tramps in the store, and if we gave to tramps we'd be filled with them. But we do occasionally give a cigar or a piece of tobacco to somebody that comes in that’ sout of work or some- body that simply hasn’t got any mon- ey and wants a smoke. I've seen the time when I'd give a dollar for a cigar and I know what it is to want a smoke. So to one in those circumstances I wil! give a cigar.’—New York Sun. Said About Widows. Mrs. Leland Stanford is said to car- ry a larger amount of insurance than any other woman in the world. Her policies amount to more than $1,000,- 000. Women have a special antipathy to the blonde widow, and when one cross- es their path theysit down and throw up their hands and give up the game. —Dorothy Dix. “I praise the saints I niver was mar- ried, though I had opportunities enough when I was a young man, and even now I have to wear me hat low whin 1 go down in Cologne street on account iv th’ Widow Grogan.—Mr. Dooley. The richest woman in Cuba is said to be Senora Rosa Ahern, a handsome, intelligent, aristocratic looking widow worth $2,000,000.—Detroit Free Press A Bookkeeping Triumph. “Now, dearest, just see,” said Mrs. Newlywed, “since I have commenced keeping our accounts we haven’t near- ly so many bills to pay. Now, see, you haven’t got any butcher bill or milk- man’s bill to pay at all this month.” “But, darling, we certainily had plenty of meat and milk all the time.” “Yes, dearest,” replied Mrs. Newly- wed, “but I bought them from the gro. cer.”—Philadelphia edger. Ib MRS. M. BRICKNER. 99 Eleventh Street, Milwaukee, Wis. t “A short time ago I found my con- dition very serious, I had headaches, pains in the back, and frequent dizzy spells which grew worse every month. 1 tried two remedies before Peruna, and was discouraged when I took the first dose, but my courage soon returned. In less than two months my health was restored.’’—Mrs. M. Brickner. The reason of so many failures to cure cases similar to the above is the fact that diseases FEMALE TROUBLE peculiar to the female sex are not commonly recognized as being caused by catarrh. Catarrh of one organ is exactly the same as catarrh of any other organ. What will cure catarrh of the head will also cute catarrh of the pelvic organs. Peruna cures these cases simply be- cause it cures the catarrh. If_you have catarrh 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. NOT RECOGNIZED AS CATARRH. HE FORGOT NOTHING. But Just the Same His Hat Was Miss- ing. A perspiring man, laden with bun- dles, bustled onto the Hudson river boat, upset a small boy in a sailor suit, carried away a half yard of flounce from the skirt of a lady with a purple silk waist, and finally brought up, panting and exhausted, beside a small woman sitting tranquilly on the after deck. “John!” “There, now, I know just what you are going to say, Jane—that same old question. My dear, I forgot nothing.” “But, John—” “No, I did not forget to buy the fruit!” He thrust a basket of peaches into her lap. “Nor the toweling!” An other package followed. “Nor the seven and three-quarters yards of cambric!” Another package. “Nor the spool of silk! Nor—” But “The rattle, nor—” “But, John, dear, will you—” “No,,madam, I will not. There is no use in asking. I tell you I have for- gotten nothing—nothing! Here’s the prescription, and here’s the—er— thingumbob that your mother wanted, and here’s a book for Agnes. There you are. The whole list, not a thing missing.” His wife rescued the “thingumbob” from the,deck, smiled up into the tri- umphant face and said: “Yes, dear, but in which store did you leave your hat?” And then the boat York Press. started.—New AS EASY Needs Only a Little Thinking. The food of childhood often decides whether one is to grow up well nour- ished and healthy or weak and sick- ly from improper food. It’s just as easy to be one as the other provided we get a proper start. A wise physician like the Denver Doctor who knew about food, can ac- complish wonders provided the pa- tient is willing to help and will eat only proper food. Speaking of this case the Mother said her little four year old boy was suffering from a peculiar derangement of the stomach, liver and kidneys and his feet became so swollen he couldn’t take a step. “We called a Doctor who said at once we must be very careful as to his diet as improper food was the only cause of his sickness: Sugar especially, he forbid. “So the Dr. made up a diet and the principal food prescribed was Grape-Nuts, and the boy, who was very fond of sweet things, took the Grape- Nuts readily without adding any sugar. (Dr. explained that the sweet in Grape-Nuts is not at all like cane or beet sugar but is the natural sweet of the grains.) “We saw big improvement inside a few days and now Grape-Nuts are al- most his only food and he is once more a healthy, happy, rosy-cheeked youngster with every prospect to grow up into a strong, healthy man.” Name given by Postum Co., Battle Creek, Mich. The sweet of Grape-Nuts is the Na- ture-sweet known as Post Sugar, not digested in the liver like ordinary sugar, but pre-digested. Feed the youngsters a handful-of Grape-Nuts when nature demands sweet and prompts them to call for sugar. ‘There’s a reason. , Get the little book “The Road to Wellville” in each pkg. -