Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, August 26, 1905, Page 8

xi The Sorcerer of St. By PROF. WILLIAM H. PECK. CHAPTER XXIII.—(Continued)- Lord Genlis had by this time sunk down upon the floor of the passage, and was in as deep a sleep as he was when Sosia partially arcused him. The sorcerer was on his hands and knees, blowing at a burning pastille, and forcing its fumes and most of its smoke under the door with his oreath. This pastille was of a more potent composition than those which both he and Clarence had used before, and the young man had no antidc¢te, as the sor- cerer had, to protect himself from its effects. Clarence recognized instantly by the odor that this pastille was un- known to him, and retreated to the stone door, hoping that there he might escape what he feared. The sorcerer, perfectly confident in the power of his invention, continued to keep up a stream of the pastille gases into the dungeon with his breath until all the interior dungeon began to grow rank with the smell. The odor began to float toward Clar- ence, seeking an outlet at the space above the stone door, teward which a suction of air from the sea drew its fleeecy masses. Clarence Was at last compelled to inhale the gas, and soon sank into ut- ter insegsibility under its influence; but not until he had hidden, in a crevice, between two stones, that pack- et which contained the letters of Capt. Osred, and the confession of the sor- cerer. “If I perish, those writings may some day come to light,” was the last thought of the young man as he sank into insensibility. Sosia, who had continued to- blow until he consumed two fo his pas- tilles, ceased to do so when the sec- ond was consumed, and listened. Hearing only the loud and labored breathing of Clarence in the dungeon, he peered in at the door. “Ah, all is safe!” he muttered. And in a few moments he unbarred, unlocked and opened the door. As he opened the door a current of air sweeping down from above through the trap door, which he had ieft open, soon dissipated the fumes of the pas- tilles. Grasping Lord Genlis by the shoul- ders, Sosia dragged him intc the dun- geon and left him near its center. The sorcerer then hurried to Clarence and deprived him of all his weapons and searched his person for papers, hoping to discover something from which might be learned in whose pos- session were those papers of which Clarence had spoken so confidently to Helen. Such papers as the screerer found he placed in his bescom for future ex- amination, and then hurried from the dungeon, taking care, however, to carefully secure the door. + The further intended vengeance of the sorcerer well deserved the name of infernal; for hurrying back to Hel- en's first prison, he ilfted the body of Capt. Osred upon his shoulders and bore it to the dungeon door. He pleced his burden vpon the floor of the dungeon corridor, and took a survey of the interior through the hole dn the iron door. All within was as he had left it. The pallid face upon the corridor floor was searcely more death-like than the faces of the two men in the dungeon. “Good!” said Sosia. And openin gthe door he dragged the body into the dungeon, left it near Lord Genlis, ud then hurried from the room. Sosia had scarcely closed and lock- ed the door when Clarence sprang to his feet, the influence of the pastille gas havirig just passed from his lungs and brain. His lamp, Stili burning brightly where he had left it, enabled him to comprehend all that had passed. “Here’s my eye, my son,” sneered the sorcerer, with his eye at the hole in the iron door. “Shoot at it—do!” “Coward! you have 1obbed me of every weapon, save one!” replied Clar- ence, sternly. “Except one. one?” “My trust in the justice of heaven,” replied Clarence, solemrly. “Bosh!” laughed Sosia. “When Lord Genlis awakes you will have a mad- man to converse with on that sub- ject. You will see that I have even allowed you to have another compan- jon. If he could speak now, perhaps he migbt give you a great deal of in- formation of that justice you speak about. But adieu for the present. I must go and see how all is with my intended wife—Helen Ecauclair, my son. Then I must arouse Martha Bash- fort. She must again prepare the room she is now in for the occupancy of our beloved Helen. You know, the And what is that Giles she knew not where she was nor what had passed. Her memory began as if she were still in the cave where Clar- ence had left her, but soon leaped for- ward to the instant when she had rec- ognized the entrance of the sorcerer. Remembering this dread fact, she sprang up in that cot on which the sor- cerer had left her, and exclaimed, as she threw her glances wildly about: “Where am I? Oh, heaven pity me! where am I?” i The solitary lamp burning on the stone shelf told her only that she was in a dungeon-like place and the cap- tive of the sorcerer. “Ah! he has made me senseless and brought me hither.” Ilalf mad with terror, for a time she filled the cell with piercing screams. The sound of these screams was lost amid the heaped-up stones and ruins of what now was the ceiling or roof of the cell. No one could hear those screams, unless perched upon the great mound of tower ruins on the outside. Despairing very soon of being heard, Helen at last arose and made a care- ful examination of her own cell and of the other, into which it opened through a small door, She found that she could not escape. She then looked about her for some weapon, resolved to destroy herself rather than become the living victim of the sorcerer. The sorcerer had guarded against the desperation of a noble soul. He had taken care to remove everything for which suicidal resolve might seek. His leathern portmanteau was in one corner of his cell; Helen seized it, with the hope that in it she might find something sharp, something poisonous, something with which she might kill him when he returned—or herself, if she should distrust her courage and ability to kill the sorcerer. But the portmanteau was triply lock- ed, of stout sole leather, made strong- er with interlaced and crossed bands of thin steel. Its strength defied the tender hands of Helen as if it were a solid mass of stone. Helen sat down upon the portman- teau for a time and reflected. “He will not spare the life of Clar- ence,” she murmured, “even if I con- sent to marry. Clarence would despise even my memory were I to purchase his life at such a price. Death is more preferable to me than to marry any man except Clarence Darrell—death a thousand times rather than be the wife of Zeno Sosia!—death a million times rather than be his prey!” She looked about for a cord, or for something which might serve as a cord. She had resolved to strangle her- self; but she could find nothing in either cell that could serve for a cord upon whose speedy efficacy as a means of suicide she could depend. It was necessary to use a strong and slender cord which should grip tightly and remain unelastic to dying strug- gles, when the wish to die should no longer be able to resist the power of the muscles to battle for life. She knew that some would-be sui- cides had strangled themselves to in- sensibility of thought, and had been baffled in their desire to die by the struggle of muscular action relieved from the control of the will. “I have what I wish,,” she said at last, drawing from the eyelets of her worsage a long, strong, slender linen cord, with which her corsage had been laced. She knelt and murmured a brief pe- tition for the pardon of heaven. She feared only the speedy return of the sorcerer, and her prayer was almost an ejaculation. It was simply this: “Merciful God, pardon this act, and urtite. my soul with the soul of Clar- ence Darrell, this day, in heaven!” Then, seated upon the floor of the cell, she made a loop around her fair neck with that slender linen cord, and expelling all the breath from her lungs, had the cord double knotted hard and fast as a loop of wire around her throat in an instant. It was now impossible for Helen Beauclair to save herself from death. CHAPTER XXIV. The Death of the Sorcerer. At the very moment when Helen Beauclair was knotting the cord about her neck, the sorcerer was inserting’ his slender key into the secret lock of the wall in the tower room. And at the very moment when the sorcerer was using his key to enter the cell, Clarence Darrell, half-prostrated near the stone door of the dungeon be- low, was startled by hearing his name whispered through the opening at the top of the stone door. “Ha! who calls me?” he gasped, in charming room with the hole in the ceiling. It is the best room in the house, after all. Adieu, my son!” And with a mocking laugh, Sosia withdrew. He first directed his steps to that secret cell in which he had placed the helpless girl. She had been awake and perfectly conscious, and had been so for nearly an hour, before Sosta resolved tc visit her. . Ob Arst regaining her consciousness ar a low whisper, and facing the stone door. He was in a reverie of utter despair the moment before he heard his name called, but the next instant saw his elastic soul full of hope. “Who calls?” he repeated, and press- ing his face to the opening. “Has he gone?” whispered the voice, the owner of which was that person whose unsuspected eyes watched the movements of the sorcerer when at “Yes; he has gone; I am alone with a dead mag, and a man who sleeps pro- foundly. Who are you?” “A friend! whispered the voice. I am feeling about for some way of moving this stone door. Do you know of any?” “No, or the door might never have entrapped me. Ah, that is a mistake, for, as I thought Sosia was dead, he would have snared me in the same way, even had I known of the exist- ence of this door.” oe “Courage,” whispered the voice. I heard him tell the youn glady that the door could be opened from this side.” “Heaven grant it!” “Courage! Here is an iron ring.” “An iron ring? Wrench it with’ all your strength, good friend.” “I cannot wrench it.” “Pull upon it with all your weight! Oh, that you had in your arms the strength that I feel in mine at this in- stant!” groaned Clarence, his power- ful limbs quivering with desire to act. “Ha! the door is moving!” “Yes, it moves.” “Ah, it stops! It has moved but an inch!” gasped Clarence; for after the slight movement the door remained motionless. “Courage! I will push back the ring and draw on it again.” “Good! The door has moved anoth- er inch. Ah, now it is firm again!” “Patience! I understand this ma- chinery now,” whispered the voice. “The door is to be moved back by heavy jerks upon the ring.” “Good! It moves again! More,more! Ha! ha! more; Good. More, a little more!” gasped Clarence, his eyes di- lating with joy as he saw the door vanishing into one side of the passage by separate inches. Halt! I can pass through now.” é “Come on, then. I will hasten back to the cave beyond. Close the door af- ter you,” whispered the voice, and its owner withdrew. Clarence hastened to secure and place in his bosom the packet which he had concealed in the crevice of the dungeon, and then hurried into the passage on his hands and knees. Quickly finding how to close the door, he closed it, and then he hast- ened on until he was able to stand erect in the interior cave. The cave was dimly lighted up by the rays of daylight which penetrated the fissures and by the light of a lan- tern in the hands of the person to whom Clarence owed his liberation and his life. The person with the lantern was a woman; and as Clarence recognized her features, he exclaimed: “Bashfort’s wife!” “Yes,” replied Martha, for the wom- an was indeed Martha. “I have so far deceived the sorcerer. How and why I cannot tell you sow. We must save the young lady.” “True. God bless you, Martha Bash- fort! Where is Helen?” “In a cell to: which I can lead you. Do .you know that passage?” asked. Martha, pointing at the stone slab. “I have never been in it.” “Then we must reach the building by the way I have twice come hither— through the passage that leads to the cave in the face of the cliff—and then ascend by the knotted rope. Can you climb a knotted rope?” “A wire—to save Helen Beauclair!” “Let us hasten, then, that we may be in the building ere he discovers that you have escaped from the dun- geon,” said Martha. And then both hurried into: that pas- sage in which Clarence had conquered and captured Neil Bashfort. How Martha came so opportunely to the aid of the lovers can be briefly ex- plained. Sosia tossed quite a large piece of plastering into Helen’s first prison, just before he threw in, the sleep pas- tilles. The noise of the plastering did not awake Martha, for she was not asleep, though her eyes were closed at the time. She had already detected a noise at the ragged hole in the ceil- ing, and was slyly watching through her nearly shut lids. ‘When the sorcerer tossed i his pas- tilles she recognized his face. Because, perhaps, of the antidotal power of the drugged wine which she drank on the preceding night, the gas of the pastilles did not immediately affect her. Still, she suspected treach- ery in the burning pastilles, and, aware now that the sorcerer was not dead, she noiselessly arose, and, opening the door, glided out into the darkness of the corridor. Soon after this she caught sight of Sosia as he moved about, the building with a light in his hand; for Clarence was then on his way to Kilronan, and Sosia had no suspicion that Martha was not under the influence of the pas- tilles. Perceiving the sorcerer, Martha crouched behind a partly opened door, and peered at him through a crevice between the hinges. He approached very near to her—and, to her terror, halted on the very threshold of the door. ‘ This halt of the sorcerer was the salvation of Clarence Darrell, for while standing on that threshold, Sosia said half aloud: sf “Now, how shall I go down to the interior cave to capture Helen Beau- clair? By the trap door? or by the passage behind the slab? or down the face of the cliff by the knotted rope, and through the passage under the ledge, where Bashfort hanged himself? (To Be Continued.) Case of Self-love. “Woe is me!” sighed the egotistical youth who had been handed the icy mitt. “There is no one to love me.” “Sir,” rejoined the heartless maid, “you seem to forget yourself.”—Chi- cago Deily News, i Something Queer About Him. “There’s a man in room 42 ,who signed the register ‘John Bright, New York,’” said the hotel clerk, “and I think we’d better keep an eye on him.” “Why so?” asked the proprietor. “He remarks that this is his first visit to Philadelphia and he thinks the town is great.”—Philadelphia News. Noble Youth. Fond Papa—But, look here, you're not able to take care of my daughter properly, if I should give her to you. And I can’t suppert both of you. Brave Suitor—Oh, no, sir—I don’t ask you to. It will be all right if you'll just support her—I’m used to grubbing for myself. Valuable Canine. “Henry,” said Mrs. Peck, “Mr. Smith’s dog came very near biting me this afternfioon. I was awfully fright- ened and it’s up to you to do some- thing about it.” . “I will, my dear,” replied Peck. “I'll see Smith the first thing in the morn- ing, and if he doesn’t ask too much for the dog I'll buy him.” And That’s a Fact. “George, dear,” said the fair maid who was new to the game, “when the man with the wire toilet mask says ‘Play ball’ what does he mean?” “When certain teams are engaged in the contest,” answered George, “it means that he is somewhat sarcastic.” -HIS REASON FOR STAYING. Visitor—My poor man, why are you here? Convict—Cos de guy witat has charge of dis place keeps de gate locked. A Mean Trick. “Your friend across the way seent> to be doing all the business,” re marked the customer. “Yes,” answered the confectioner, “T sold ice-cream soda by the barrel @ week ago, but there hasn’t been a- woman in my place for a week.” “What's the trouble?” “Well, as far as I can learn he spread the report that I’m going. to’ take out my penny-in-the-slot weigh- ing machine, and put in a machine that tells one's exact age.’—Detroit Tribune. Victim of the Ruling Passiom Titewad’s cashier had run away with $2,000 of his employer's hard- earned money and the old man was in despair. He rusked to the nearest drug store. “Give me some poison,” he: cried. “I wish to commit suicide.” “Sure!” answered’ the obliging clerk. “What will you haye—morphine or carbolic acid?” Titewad hesitated. “Well,” he said, “which is the cheap- est?” No Rain Could Keep Him Away. Kathlene—It’s little ye love me, or ye wud niver stay away from me as ye did last evening, jist because av a wee bit 0” rain. Dundee Mike—Sure it wor a pourin’ down floods, mavourneen, but it wor not th’ rain that kep’ me away from th’ loight av y’r hivenly eyes. Kathlene—An’ wot wor it? Dundee Mike—It wor th’ lack av an umbrella—New York Weekly. Anxious Inquiry. The guileless village maid was about to visit the city for the first time. “Remember, daughter,” said the anxious mother, “if any of those bad city men try to flirt with you don’t pay any attention to them.” “But how about the good men, mam- ma, dear?” asked the pretty daughter, anxiously. Wide Open. Miss Kreech—Dr. Farrinks seemed quite interested in my singing last evening. He sat directly in front of me during my solo and watched me so attentively. Miss Knox—I don’t think it was your singing. He told me afterward that he made a study of the tonsils and studied them every chance he got. A Remembered Correction. “Mamma, my leg hurts,” complained ‘@ little girl. “Don’t say leg, mamma; “say limb.” Two days later the little girl went to her mamma and said, “Mamma, my limb hurts where my leg used to be.” —Judge. dear,” corrected What an Egg Will Do. “I learned to-day,” said the young wife, “that an egg is the best thing to settle coffee. Did you know that?” “No,” her husband replied, “but I’ve often heard that a ripe egg judiciously placed will settle a bad actor.” Couldn't Return ’Em. Johnny—“I'd like to buy some shoe- strings, please.” Salesman—‘“How long do you want them?” Johnny—“Why, I want to keep ’em.” The Glamer Gone. “Ye don’t seem as popular as ye was wid the Richmaw’s cook,” said the first policeman, “No, an’ the more fool I,” replied the other one. “I got a new suit o’ citizen’s clothes the other day that I Was proud of an’ I foolishly let her see me in- it.’—Philadelphia Press. In Chicago “There must be something unusual- ly nice about that Mrs. Larriper.” “What makes you think so?” “Why, she’s been married three times and through it all she’s kept. the same cook.’—Cleveland Plain Deailer. Didn't Try 1% Bteon—You had that horse in your family for fifteen years, you say? Egbert—Yes, and ther he died. “Tough, wasn’t it?” “Oh, I don’t know. We didn’t eat it ourselves; we sold it to # butcher, you know?!” Their Systers. She—I won every race to-day. He—How did you manage it? “Why, three or four other women went in with me and we bet on every horse in each race.’—Kansas City Times. Trepoff and the Terrorists. “The terrorists appear to have de- cided upon the means of accomplish- ing the death of Gen. Trepoff. At least they have told him he will be slain in his bed.” “Weil, that’s enough to send a man to bed late and get him up early— and give him insomnia between times.” The Fateful Book. Tess—“Jack Hansom pulled the pet- als of a daisy for Belle Mainchantz and it came out ‘she loves me.’” Jess—“And did she pluck a daisy for him?” Tess—‘Not' exactly. She turned the leaves of Bradstreet’s and it came out ‘I love him not.’” He Was Spurned. “Believe me,” said old Gotrox, “al- though I’m an old bachelor I’m sure t could learn to be a good husband You know, a man is never too old to learn.” “Nor too old to yearn, perhaps,” re- plied Miss Pechis, “also I’m sorry to say you're not too old to spurn.” With the Minstrels. Mr. Tambo—“Why are mathemati- cians like Belgian hares, Mr. Bones?” Mr. Bones—“I give it up, sah.” Mr. Tambo—“Because they're such good multipliers.” Mr. Bones—“Ladies and gentlemen, I will now endeavor to give you a few } imitations with the violin.” The Griefs of Genius. “Your latest production was a poem worth reading,” said the flattering friend. “Yes,” answered the ambitious young literary man. “But after see- ing the check sent by the publisher I have concluded that it wasn't worth writing.” A Veiled Poke. “It is hard,” remarked Mrs. Starv em at the dinner table, “to think that this poor little lamb should be de stroyed in its youth just to cater to our appetites.” “Yes,” replied the smart boarder, struggling with his portion, “it is tough.” Queer. “I don’t see how these Germans un- derstand one another.” How silly of you.” “Not a bit silly. My brother and I have studied German and when we talk it we can’t understand é&ch other at all!”—Cleveland Leader, Just His Luck. “Hello!” said Borem, “I thought [a drop in on you to-day—” “I thought you would, too; rupted Merchant “Now, that’s strange!” “Not at all; this is the busiest day I've had for weeks.” Blew Him Up. “How was Chilly Feathertop so ter- ribly injured?” “He was in an explosion.” “Where was the explosion?” “Well, you see he stepped on a par- Jor match.” inter- IT DEPENDED. N Miss Stocksanbonds—I thought I saw the Count come in the house with you. Where is he? Mr. Stocksanbonds—He has just had an interview with me, and at pres- ent he is in the library trying to figure out whether he loves you or not. He Went Elsewhere. “We'd be glad to have you among us,” said Mrs. Starvem. “All our board- ers are quite refined.” “Yes,” replied the inquirer, “the few I’ve seen look positively spirituelle, almost diaphanous. It scares me.” Now, What She Mean? Mrs. Embonpoint—I haven't the fig- ure I used to have.” Her Maid—Really, ma’am, you don’t do yourself justice. Really, you have twice the figure you used to have. Time Is Valuable. “Isn’t Hussel going to take a vaca- tion this summer?” “No.” “Why, he took one last summer.” ‘Yes; but he was on salary then, He's a member of the firm now.” ae Good News. ; ‘I hear a man sayin’ de yuther da dat de devil’s de weather.” a : “Well, ef dat’s de ease, next wtater will be so like summer we won't have ter buy wood.”—Atlanta Constitution,