The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, January 13, 1901, Page 6

uited on her Abner Digges. writer for the swears vengeance on or and editor of iend of Hiram get an article Dexter takes a oposes to give o Storey is adv! to be the same ¢ the accepted lover n spite of his age, Wi interest from Dexter oradio for several o make a fortune and then Dexter, how- ent with Digges by Gilover killed as soon a, but is rep Dexter bribes a w man to say that she is the ver writes epcour- g camp. Zella re- Dexter's office. Soiomon Dankes, at- Digges inten- llenges him to & e shock of this news, she e for a trip to Burope, but in . and sets out for the p Grey ehe makes a nkep and lives ces and proceeds to win Digges shows Zella g bout she punishes loses his temper and arded light, the . he flung nis s left hand and rushed lest and easiest thing in buried her knife in his pitched forward, his weapon fail- , he clutched at her but only caught the which gave i er in the sharp agony of uggling to her feet, but still gripping knife that was fast on her wrist, Zella @ragged it from the wound, and as the blood came gushing forth she uttered a ing scream and fell fal w 1! By —1" exclaimed the . catching her ix immediately; her sex had fair white bosom. mind us, my dear,” said Captain wrapping his great jacket about her rs and hiding the ragged shirt the ing man had torn as his ciutch loosened ¥ from her, all except ain and Dave % to have been Ned Glover's wife!™ man doffed his cap and sgld: CHAPTER XXXVIIL ZELLA LEAVES PRUDENT'S GULCH FOR LONDON. The leading men in the camp accompa- ried Zella to the gulch. P e comrades formed themseives into an es- cort, a guard of honor. x st Jim followed at Nobody knew where Jim had come from. The sun had set; the moon had risen. r?‘:e esort never spoke a word. Captain Dan Dave, however, Jla repiied with a brief “Y I thank you.” Dankes was not at home. he had called at the Valle after Zelal had set forth, with her escort, He had heard the marvel- and Pete mer- The truth is y immediately for the cabin. ous story from Jaggers ridge. It seemed to =tun him at first. But he lent a hand to the removal of the hody of Abrer Digges, and did not hesitate to eay that he was glad the dead: the world would be the better it and Platts Valley the happier. Arrived at the cabin, Zella sals tlemen, excuse me one moment. tered her ro Captain Dan’s Jacket and pu overcoat. Re- turning to the open door she said, “Cap. tain Dan, 1 thank vou for the loan et,” and handed It to him. Zella a formal bow as he took it, remarking, with a smile, * conferred on my jacket an makes it sacred; T And he slung it across his o celved you, b eous on her long 5 honah that will Hheep it as a relic.” arm. I have de- believe, was a ot goes,” said several volces, pitehied in a lew and My father 1 was brought was a soldier. the use Chicago 1 was one of the favorite mem- bers of the Women's Athietic Club. I was going home one night and I was in- #ulted by Abner Digges. Fresh from my athletic ‘exercises, 1 hit him in the face, as I have done Since in your presence with the gloves. “And served him right, sah—beg par- don, miss 1 Captain Dan. There was a titter, almost a laugh, at Captain Dan’s apology. It was, however, immediately suppressed. “Ned Gilover was at hand, but I did not need his assistance. He and Ned Glover met. Digges threatened to Kkill him. I was ensaged to be married to Glover. When the news of his death came to Chicago, was _heart-broken. Finding that ne one would move in the interests of justice, that he had becn siain in a duel that was deemed fair in a community that made its own laws, I recalled the threats of Digges, and I gathered from such information as came 10 hand that Digges had as good as mur- dered him.” Yo' had a right to think so; but it was a squah deal, so far as anything could ;m squah with Digges,” said Captain »an. “That's =0,” was the general responsc: *“so far as anythin’ could be squar’ with Digges.” “So, then, gent the business in in Gpon me t my very training fitted e for the adventure. T remembered the story of David and Goliath, and I set out, » do 2 man's work thunder. you done it!"" was the . with the ap- proval of Cap Dan, Dave standing by, a keen but silent witness, Jim crouching et, awed by so remarkable an assembly on the stoop of the cabin, and Solomon Dankes very notable by his ab- sence. “And if I have offended any of you, by taking upon myself to pretend I was & among vou, I ask your pardon; and at the same time I thank you from my_heart for your great kindness.” “We are proud, miss—to have entertained an angel unawahs. Boys, we will now say ‘Good evening,’ and lemen, I resolved to take 1t was borne the quick r it will be our leuhah to call again to- i pia morrow, a Mister Philip Grey “That's go! ce ourselves at P said; and “Good even- , 80 shall it be.”" trooped away, down the trail, glories of the sunset. Zella leaning against the Jintel of the doorwa; “I've made some coffes sald Dave, touching her arm; “and ther's some meat and a jar of hone; Jim ran in ‘and out of the cabin, and then dashed down the trail to greet Solo- Then the; in the last watched them depart, mon Dankes, who came lumbering through the fading light, a veritable pic- ture of a lusty ofd age. “Dear friend,” sald Zella, “do you for- give me?” “I guess your success justifies the mea " “said Dankes. “Gimme your hard > He raised it to his lips; at which Zella blushed. dear pard; let me still be Philip anced, and won't ““while I said, mon went into the cabin and shut the Zella towels from a box bereath the 1 pourin out a bowl of water from a large wooden jug, preceeded to make her tollet. She fin- ished the operation in her own room, moment _whether she her large box and don her decided to maintain her as Philip Grey; and consult K s to her movements on the morrow. Dankes was smoking when she entered the general room “Won't you eat?” sald Zella. < * said Dunkes. “I won't re- a cup of coffe “Dave seemed to think I must both eat apc drin Zella. “But you ain't eatin’ much?” I am not Fungry.” *“You done a grea: thing. You have lift- ed a weight from the heart of this people. You have, as you told them, been an in- strument of vengeance.” Dankes smoked and talked in th!s vein to himself and to Zella until she pushed the table aside and moved her chair near him by the stove. Though the night was he lighted stove continued to be woman in a million.” said ike one of them In the Bitle " no. dear friend: much below that 4. Let me tell you comething of before the day when you held out your kindly hand to me.” She related to him in cimple language the story of her childhood ur to the time of ter me with Ned Glover. on_the i her few remarks to Captain Dan the rest. man listened with grave atten- king at the close of her ngrra- onder!” t to ask ycu what T shall end to do, in the first place, re fcr Europe right away. question is, how shall/l go? As *y or as Zélla Brunnen?” p Grey there may be trouble, like- Sence you've got used ter bein’ ter Grey, and have come through so h, ef 1 felt more independent in that -,'T should continue to walk in the as long as it suited my conven- m same, fence. Dankes spoke with a judicial manner 1h was quite impressive. You think s0? You see, dear friend, T feel entirely like another person as Philip Grey, almost forget 1 was to be Ned's wife; it takes the edge off my grief, and— “You feels that vour fight with Digges is summat that mote best ha become you as a young man?” z u are very wise, Mr. Dankes,” eald Zella; “1 think I will sleep on it, as they say. She Aid sleep on it, and the next morn- ing. having tried on her petticoats, she acked them up again, and appéared at reakfast as Philip Grey, a shade or two paler than neual, and by k o'clock a depu- tation waited upon her and Dankes, to know their pleasure. Her plezsure, then, it was, that a mule train should be ready for her early the next day to hurry of to the Forks and catch_the coach to Carson City. It was Mr., Grey's intention to =ail for Europe with all speed, and, above all things, his wish that they ehould guard the secret of her visit and her work among them, un- til such time zs Mr. Grey should cable them from London or elsewhere, her per- mission for, its revelation. Zella added to Dankes’ explanation of her views these memorable Words. ““Gentlemen, comrades, T have work to do_that makes this precaution needful. When it is fimched I will come buck to you, and. so far as in me lies, prepare the way for the civilization and happiness of Plaits Valley, the Guich, the Ridge, and Blind Man's Drift by dwelling among you as a# woman, and encouraging others to help me make yotr camps a united city of pleasant homes “It 1s a great missicn,” said Captain Dan, solemnly. “And, by the remem- brance of our mothers, we'll help you to realize it.” “‘And, by thunder, we all say ‘Amen? to thati” came clear and strong from one man, and he, of all others, Jumper Bill. ‘Whereupon the entire crowd, doffing their hats, repeated his indorsement of the Captain’s vow. *“And by thunder, we ail say ‘Amen? to that!” The next day came a telegram, an- nouncing the arrival of Mr. Hildyard at Denver, on his way to the Gulch, to in- terview Dankes in relation to the will of wir Glover, which made Zelia all the more anxious to get away. It further- more stimulated Dankes to lay before her the exact state of their partnership, which, from a monetary point of view, only made the death of Glover all the more sad, seeing that it justificd the op- timism of his forecast of the future, “You'll keep the room' for me as it 182" Yt you woulan't Iike me b 1 o fm; upon it. Might give it a settin’- a klld!chen“ “::de ; lepu.rnldte entrance. Tt ccul eas| lone, even a fixed up. . What 1 was thenkin® was tor me to go down into the Valley—it'll be clverl now—and give the cabin a an- nex as would be fittin’ for yer, sence you says you'll come back a&s a woman and :'.hohullv-.u?uruu.»uuxn—n you i thet. I know & man ss wouid THE SUNDAY CALL o.rv]ob Hatton be willin' to bulld a proper hotel, and hia wife and gals would come along. And ther’ ain’t no reason as we shouldn't com- bine the hull of the camps in one, and call it Brunnentown.” You dear gld romancer,” sald Zella. “Whatever you do while I am away goes. Extend the cabin, by all means; but don’t touch Mr. Glover's room. «It was Ned's wish that I should see Kurope. It is the wish of his dearest friend, Mr. Richard Lorrimer, that I should meet him. As Ned's lawyer, it is also necessary that I should consult him; and since I have, ut my Erey! advise.” “Not that T put it down as ‘a forfgone conclusion,” as Ned Glover said; but, sence it agrees wi ¥ idea, havin’ slept on it, why, let it go, and God 'speed ! “80 be it!" sald Zella, with spirit and decision. “And ef you want me in Europe a cable would fetch me,” he added. “You don’t mean to sa2y you would come all the way to London if 1 happened Lo think T wanted your assistance about anything? “T'd be on hand as fast as things would carry me,” said Dankes. “I might want vou, supposing this af- fair of Digges leaked out before it should be convenient to my plans.’ It won't leak ou said Dankes. “But ef it did, or ef it didn’t Solomon Dankes is vour pard and friend to the death, as they says in the histories hand to the Elnngh as Phillp [ will walk in the same, as you “4f you might re to send me a ca- ble, please address it to Zella Brunnen care of Straker, Love and Lorrimer, Be ford row, London, England. I have writ- ten it down for vou and pinued it up by the side ‘of the portrait in Ned Glovef's & 3 room. Let it always be called Ned Glo- ver's room.” ““That goes. And it's kinder sweet of you to leave the picter. “1 hope it won't stand as a rebuke to Philip Grey?" ““There ain’t nawthin’ ag’en you in nay- ther character. But excuse me ef 1 Te- fers to what my dear pard called filthy luker. Thar's certain values of gold in his chest,;as I've hamed to you more'n wunst; what about it? What was Glo- ver's is yourn. not only in accordance with his g but in any reckonin’ with me as his 4wful ppard.” “Thank you, dear old Generosity. I am glad you menticned it. 1 have some money lying in the hank at Denver. “But you require a few thousand dollars in hand, eh? How much? Won't you open Glover’s chest?” “1 would rather not.” “Then you have only to draw upon me at Denver or Chicago. or New York, or Lun'un, and Solomon Dankes, at the Na- tional Bank, Denver, will be 'good for it. And you'll do him the honor and yourself the justice to begin right here.” He opened his rough little desk and took out writing implements and a_book. from which he tore two blank checks and signed them, “No, no,” sald Zella, tearing them up; “I would not run the risk of losing them. Give me a few bills and a signed check for $5000 on Denver, and I shall bave all T nd thereupon Zella for Dave. parting remembrance u are going to complied up a little pac 1 am leaving a for Dave. Some day e him to San Franeisc and I want m to think of me in the beautiful city of the Golden G She placed the bills where she had told Dave he wounld find them. Ana Solomon said neither he nor Dave was ever likely to forget her for a minute, wherever they might be; and as for Dave, his fortune was made when he, being an orphan, flung in his lot with an old bachelor, who, in his way, was just as lonely In the world. Three days later, with a mule.team spe- cially fitted out and with, as attendant squires Dankes, Dave, Captain Dan and Pete Kerridge (as re enting the three camps), Philip Gre rived at the Red Horse Forks, where the guard and driver of the stage for Carson city had never in all his experience seen such a fi'k‘ndl}; and at the same time regretful send-o as the Platts Valley men gave to his young and handsome passenger. “Which 1 remember puttin’ you down here, not more'n sixty days, youngster. jopé wou've struck it rich. You bet!” said Captain Dan. “No such heen_struck since the glorious f ’49 in Frisco. 1 a good time, gen- tlemen,” popular whip of the famous coach; and, aroused with a se- ries of reports of the lash that echoed among the hills, the Carson team leaped forward and soon left Dankes and his companions gazing upon a cioud of dust, in which the romantic heroine of Platts Valley disappeared. CHAPTER XXXIX. ON BOARD AN ATLANTIC LINER; A STRANGE MEBETING. From the storm and stress of a wild ex- perience ashore to the calm of a pleasant deck cabin on board a Cunard liner; what a change! It seemed to Zella years since she had waved her hand to dear old Dankes and his comrades at the Red Horse Forks, though it was less than two weeks. & . . She hardly knew her- self, as she Jay, pillowed, watching the gea through the port holes, between the passing of passengers and sailors going to and fro, and listening to the steady beat of the distant screw. Coming on bo=rd at the last moment, ehe had gone straight to her room, which had been transferred from Zella Brunnen to Phillip Grey. . . . She had taken the cabin in the name of Zella Brunnen, with the understanding _that Philllp should occupy it in case Miss Brunnen had to delay her journey until the next sailing. It was in that way that Miss Brunnon's name came to be inserted on the list of passengers. . . . As Phil- 1ip Grey, she saw the steward and made arrangements with him that he was never to, disturb her under any circumstances; tbat she required a great deal of rest: would go down to meals or have them brought to her, as she felt inclined; that, whether she appeared at table or desired to be served in er room A matter for herself; that he was to leave her se- verely alone, unless she rang for him; that if these arrangements were carefully fulfilled there would be ten Gollars for him at the end of the vovage; and that there were five dollars for him now, to keep his memory fr “All right, sir,” he had sald; “I won't never disturb you.” , ., . Then she unpacked her cabin luggage and got into her berth. She had not to climb into it as she had had to do at Blind Man’s Drift; and there were other soothing ‘differences, such as clean sheets, pertfumed with eau de cologne, close at er elbow an electric lamp, and_within reach a bell to summon a good fairy in the shape of her steward, commandin every luxury that human ingenuity coulg think of for first class passengers on an acean steamer. It seemed to her that she had had no real rest for years and years; yet the time she had sallied forth from Chicago, a missionary of justice, could be eounted by morths only. ~ . . . She thought of many things and realized, without quite understanding why, that she had found the loss of her lover less and less hard to bear. Occupation is the surest antidote to sorrow. It is not how many years we live that makes age, but how much we do in the time. Who shall fathom ‘he mind of woman? Zella had seen so much of the rough and Gizagreeable side of men's lives beyond the borders of civilizalion that she felt curious to note what change there might be under the influence of polite society. Moreover, she had come to like herself as Phili If the shadow of her great Joss had not fallen upon her spirits there is no_ knowing how she might have re- ceived the more than significant atten- Windsor, stayed two days as Philip Grey, while she had rooms at the Gilsey House as Zella Brunnen. It was from the Gilse: had wired her Chicago friends of her de- arture for Liverpool. Nor was she an our too early in doing so; for the latest telegrams and letters she found awaltin; here there declared the intention of Oi Glencoe and Mr. Storey both to look her up. She had kept them contented with a Jetter written on board the train, posted in New York by the colored attendant, in which she had stated her intention of spending a week or so with her rolatives. e Gruneisons, who had a place on i{he One thing that afflicted Zella deal was the amount of diplomatic 471:1 she had found necessary to pl. p-_; S1 Philip Grey successtully, She satisfed House that she her consclence by likening herself to an actress on the siage, speaking lines and occupying situations set down for her, as well as the justification of the cause in Which she was'engaged. Now that her mission was fulfilled, however, she was obliged to confess to herself, being an honest woman, that to continue the act- Ing of a falsehood waz more or less by way of a freak or an act of vanity, or out of 2 desire for adveniure—‘something in the blood of a soldier's daughter,” sie argued, “brought up on the frontler, amidst the excitement of ‘battle, murder and sudden death.’ Who, indeed, shall fathom the motives of & woman if she cannot fathom them herself? There might be a touch of curi- osity as well as vanity, an undegying current of the degeneracy that gov- erns genius, according to a great author- ity, in Zella's growing attachment to male attire: who knows; As a rule she did not care much for women. They did not cara much for her. She was too pretty for them; too clever, 100 unconyentional, and too much admired by the men for a pop- ular career among women. It was worth something, she thought, to be clear of them on rd ship: not to have to_uit in their drawing-room, to have a free hand, to be equally at home with elther man or woman with whom common cour- tesy might compel her to converse. * * * So there she was. en route for Europe— Zella Brunnen, behind the effective-mask of Philip Grey. And now that she was fairly rested ani settling down to the voyage, she unpack- ed her small portfollo and read the let- ters she had found awaiting her at the Gilsey House. First, there was Storey, repeating his eounsels, to be observed by & young unattended woman on a voyage to Europe. She smiled, as she thought of the grim experience of the same young woman in the mining camps of Platts Valley, and wondered what he would think cf her when the story of the death of Abner Digges, thief and murderer, should come out, as it uredly would, one of these days, however long Old Pru- dent and her other friends might succeed In keeping it back. Second. there was a letter from Donald Malcolm Glencoe, written in a stiff, formal hand, informing her, in migaty firm sentences, of the good progress of Mistress Bridget O'Hagan to- ward recovery; of the devotion of all con- cerped in maintaining the proper and ef- ficient management of Parks. and the individual and collective solicitude of the entire household for her safe and com- fortable journey across the sea, and her happy return. “You'll understand, my dear child,” he wrote, “that the heart .of Parkside is wi ye. .’Tis not in the nature of Parkside to be demonstrative. It has, individually and collectively, a deep affection for ve. It behoves ye. therefore, to gie us infor- mation concerning your happiness, or otherwise that we may joy wi ye, or sor- row. But after what ve have suffered, it canna’ be in the decrees of Providence to afflict ve further. That is our hope and faith. * * * As for our dear Mis- tress O'Hagan, wi her fine nature, though Irish, we have been solicitous for her re- covery, and it gies me no end of sai- isfaction to report her convalestent. She receives visitors in her chamber. As yet her strength is not sufficient for more than two hours a day in an armchair. But she is quite her old self; just as Irish as her discretion and lovable instincts i1l permit. * * * She often talks of you and remembers everything in cour girlish _history. though a kind rovidence has softened the biow of our dear Ned Glover's death to her, to the extent that she does not know the manner of it, save as it might be In the way of nature. * * -*- e, your friends of Parkside, keep your chair empty at the table. When I say empty, it is filled to all of for we think of ye sitting there, wi your sweet face, and when we leave the room we just bow to the empty chair, and the undersigned heaves a daily sigh for the days when ve'll be there in fact again, as ye still are in_spirit to all of us. ¢ *’'* Mr, Amos Storey has called twice, and once his good lady, which we take as a nice condescension on her part; though we are a proud community. Nevertheless, Mrs. Storey being one of the upver clasgses of the city and what they call a leader in society, and our pride nor vours, dear chilg, fiot running in that direction, we are fain_to regard her visit as a speclal honor. Mr. Storey has been more than kind in.his inquiries after Mistress O'Ha- gani and one evening he sat quite a time had a crack about all manner of sub- jects, not forgetting our Zella, and re- calling Incidents honorable and sweet in his knowledge of you. * * * We look forward to hear from ve: and it will be Just a delight to have vour impressions of the Great Babylon, which has merits of its own and is I make no doubt, though 1 have never seen it; but of ali the cities of the wide, wide world that would repay man or woman to journey across the seas to invéstigate, it's Edin- burgh, the classic capital of the land of Burns and Scott, and the Athens of the modern world, ye ken. * * * So, God bless ye! * * * Your servant and friend, “MALCOLM GLENCOE.” Zella read the kindly Scotchman’s letter, smiling through her tears at the memories it aroused. hey scemed to belong to a farback distance of time, much of her adventurous life being crowded into so short a period. She folded the screed up and replaced it in hep writing-case and drew fiyrxh a still more characteristic epistle, beaming with Irish love and sen- timent. It was ? atehy scrawl from Sridget O'Hagan herself, which Zella read over again, for the second time, puzzling out the bad st:elllnx and the good heart of it In somewhat the following terms: “Av ye plaze, my dear Zella, swate col- leen, I'm betther. It was a bad time I was avin, me darlint; but wuss whin yed gone and 1'not havin' the privilidge to bless ye and ask the Howly Mother's pro- tection for ve. And the loneliness av it all, and the mourning; and me that wake who shud been strong, goin’ off inter a faint; me, as was nivver customed to the likes: but the Blessed Virgin and the Swate Savyer, they kep me, and theyve kep you safe, and you none the wuss be- kase av yer brave heart and the mettia you got from yer noble father, that he was a great soldier; and it was cheerin’ 1o me to know as you was not takin' on, as most wimmin ‘wud, at the untimely death of the dear féiler. And shure, whin Im well entff to be about I'll be afther Seein the pollis myself In regard av that villin Digges, as imbrude his hands with his blud. 1 nivver thinks av it but me heart bleeds the more for you than him av course, for hes in Abram’s busim, an the angels is watchin over his luv, which is you, my dear. 1t takes me days to write this, not bein kustomed to sittin, but I am sittin up doing av it, and from time to time. Ould Glencoe and the bar- tinder's widder and the Senitor, they all ginds ther bes rispec’s, likewise his good lady. And its O that I was wid ye, me darlint, and we'd cross the chanl and make tgacks for Connemara and the dear ould land. God sav it! tho Im afeared theyd all be gone to hivvin, the bhoys as 1 knowd. But, it aint no gud thinkin av it. But ye won't let thim thavin Saxons, savin the mimiry av Misther Glover, stale yer heart from Amiriky and Chicago and Parkside, and yer dear ould erikan muther that luve you wuss than if ye was truly her own. Jt's a decayvin’ city, that same Lundun, with traps for the unwari and willins, biarney for young and purty gels; but 1 trust ye, me darlint, strong in yer virchu, tho I know yeve no rasn to trust thim Saxon Nights, if such they be, similar the different to 'thim as Tom Moore, av saintly mimgy made the ballad av that yeve heard me spake, and that ye giv._me hints in the resytin av it. So, now, 1 think yeve got all’ the noos ther i%, tho its not much. bekase there aint nawthin gone on widout and wid an ould womans blessin, and may the swate saints presarv and kape ye, I remane, er Juvin respeckful friend and muther— RIDGET O'HAGAN." Zella folded the missives up and re- placed them in her portfolio, intending, on a later day, to answer them, and have the letters mailed from Queenstown. Sha yould have plenty of time. /It was long since she had had so much leisure as was now before her. Until the second day out she had occu- f"" herselfymostly in resting. reading old letters and ' looking at one or two new bocks, alone in her room. It was not until the morning of the second day t both she and Mr. Hiram Dexter met with an equal surprise in the first and uncorrected list of passenzers. He was no less start- led to read there the name of Miss Zella Brunnen than she was to come upon the entry of “Mr. Hiram Dexter Now she was indeed confirmed In the wis- dom of maintaining her di he saw in it the compensating hand of Fate, At the same time the fact that her name was on the ship's list would compel to be extremely cdreful to order her life on board so that she might not arouse sus- picion. Retiring to her room to consid the situation, she recalled min been so en- lat*s Valley ever since that evervthing else had, moro or less, gone out of her memory. She had Tndsviauality. (hat ihe had at times quity to;-!xonen heitlhell.v : Vg was on the second day t she saw, shambling the deck, who, every. m:m t‘hfin. M:Eh&a‘.n- man, 3 self up, stiffened w make out to . and servant.” ~couch, and _ 't Frdia others, that he wes nothing like so old as he might eppear; that he was simpiy tired, or overworked, or not vufte well. or what not. In spite of hifs bekavior to ber, notwithstznding his malicious slander of her lover's good namc, him. She remembered him, during aer first days at the Palmer House alert, optimistic an old beau, She saw him now—thin and shriveied, his head bent, except when he appeared to raise it with an effort at defiance, though it was really the action of despair. She saw him sitting in his steamer chalr, his legs wrap- ed Up in a great rug by the attentive am, taking no notice of Sam’s affection- ate care, arranging his cushions, glnclnx the chair at a pleasant nngla in the sun, yet with the possibility of a reasonable shade: he simply guzed out to sea, as she had found hersélf from time to time g23- ing, as one does in mid-Atlantic, wonder- ing at the mystery of it, feeling one's cwn littieness, and watching the wake of the mighty vessel making its trackless track over the paths of thousands of predeces- sor ships, now and then leaving for a few seconds a traceable impression upon the sea. ¢ * ¢ Unhappily for Dexter's peace of mind, added to his other sins, e had upon his soul the murder of Ld- win Glover. His mental condition. low- ered by drink and sleeplessness under his mad passion for Zella Brunnen, had re- ceived a great shock in the announcement of the death of Ned Glover While that dark business had been brewing, while'he was waiting for news from Abner Digges, he had set on foot the hideous plot to de- stroy Glover's character in the eyes of Zella, which Bridget O'Hagan had s clev- erly and courageously frustrated. The in- struments he had used in this business had degraded him in his own estimation, not only as a man, but as a man of re- source and abllll¥; [ He had found himself, by and by, the plaything of ain astute woman of the town, and the dupe of one of her agents. From Dexter, the man of affairs, he had sunk Into Dexter, the profligate. After a |\;mnh of work and enterprise, and a man- 00d of réspectability and honor, he had, 1n his comparative old age, become a crea- ture of passion, a panderer to his own vices, a drunkard and a suborner of mur- der. ¢ ¢ & In his intermittent moods of sanity he realized all this, and it drove him to seek relief in the friendly obiivion that may be found in alcohol, which, in this respect, is rather a good than an evil thing, for what ¢lse better than a dream- less sleep can Gullt desire than” to be pleasantly and recklessly mad in sympa- thetic company, chzxmpagne for the pre- siding genfus. ¢ * ¥ The best antidote, the only antidote, indeed, for the vileness that Dexter had permitted himself is r pentance and penance, confession, com- pensation. an austere life devoted to the good of others: but Dexter had no longer any gift that way. Such inteliectual force as remained to him crumbled at the touch .of the smallest good resoluticn. He assuredly had fits of remorse, but they developed to no good purpose; they were lurid lights passing over a mental slough of incipient madness. If ever once there had been a time since the death of Glover when remorse might have been strong enough for repentance and a penitent spir- it of compensation in the way of good deeds, it was lefeated by a rush to the bottle, the degenerate's medium to a lower ‘abyss, CHAPTER XL. HIRAM DEXTER SEES GHOSTS. On the third day out Zella, who sat at the purser’s table, came within the obser- vation of Dexter for the fipet time. He occupied a seat at the captain's table, that had hitherto been vacant. She was conscious that he was watching her in a furtive kind of way. He was drinking champagne. Sam was standing behind his chair. It was evident that he was re- garded as a persona grata by the captain 2nd the other yassengers. “Dexter, the millionaire,” said the pur- ser to Zella, ““first time he's been down to dinner. Looks awfully bad, don’t he? It ain’t all beer ard skittles being a miilion- aire. I can speak from experience; 1've seen most of them, during my time on the Umbria.” “Poor fellow! He does not, as you say, look as if wealth agreed with him,” Zella replied. 5 “I have never seen the man that it did agree _'w(th." “Always some disappointment on hand. Worried with every movement of stocks; or with a wife with a heart-aching desire to get into soclety that don't want her; or _there are sons who behave badly: or a daughter who won't marry for position. Or, if it's an Englishman, he's dying for a title, because his good lady wants it; an American, to get the control of a rail- way, or boss a bank, or own the fastest trotter, or some other tin-pot thing or another. Never contented, I assure you; that's my experience; not to mention that their digestion’s out of order, they've got dyspepsia; always tinkering with doctors. ‘Why, it isn’t long since a millionaire, one of the African crew, chucked himself overboard.” “Is that so?" ¥ “Couldn’t bear the strain. Got an idea that he had overrun the constable: thought when he arrived in London he'd be bu’'sted.’ “Don't say?" “On the contrary, he was one of the richest of the African lot. But it must be hard to carry a piie, if yvou let it bother you; it would never bother me.” “Nor me,” sald Zella. “But the fact is, the peaple who could carry it properly and know how to spend it to the advantage of the world in gen- eral, they never get it. Look at this poor Dexter; he's one of the wealthiest men in America. * Do you see how he keeps looking this way? Seems as if he knew vou, or wanted io—can hardly keep you. “Surely,” sald Zella, “he’s looking toward a pretty woman at the next table? They say he is quite a gallant among the ladies.” iTTeat tpoNe, SREL (ba purser. ool enough to fall in love with a typewriting girl, thought he could buy her; acc tomed to Duy everything he wanted; as he couldn’t buy her; he took to drink and other women, and has been going to the bad ever since,” said the purser. “You don't say!" sald Zella. ‘“Who has been telling you the old gentleman's secrets.’” < “Uncle Tom,” said the purser, laughing. “Calls himgelf Sam; but if ever there was an ‘Uncle Tom’ out of Mrs. Stowe's book there he is; and if you want to know all about ‘Massa’ ‘'Iram Dexter, why, ‘gol- ]ei’,'. Uncle Tom will oblige. exter seemed to bo’tn\'ltlng all his neighbors to drink withjhim. Sam and the stewards were passing the wine up and down the table, the millionaire rais- inf his glass with a henevolent greeting all around. Presently he spoke to Sam, aside, and Sam went over to the purser's table, bottle in hand, with ‘“Massa Dex- ter's ‘compliments, and won't the gentle- men and ladies do him the honnoh to take ‘wine wid him?” The ladies mostly declined. The purser and several of the men accepted the in- vitation. Zella declined. She was not drinking wine to-day. Sam emptied the bottle and fetched another, and with it ““Massa’'s compliments to the young gen'leman, an’ hopes he'll give him the pleas’ah?"” “Thank your master,” sald Zella, “and I must postpone the pleasure until some other day: [ am not taking wine.” Sam, with a puzzled expression in his eyes, poured out a glass of wine for Zella, all the same, as if he had not heard what she said. He glanced at her agafn, as he filled up other glasses, and returned to_his master. o ‘When dinner was over Zella went to her room and had coffee brought there. It was a calm, sunny day. She sat with her cabin door opén and smoked a cigarette. Dexter, leaning on Sam's arm, passed by, and paused for a moment, as if he were about to speak to her. Zella looked at him quite unconcernedly, and he went on. ““Tigh! said the purser, standing in the doorway. ‘‘Says he feels sure he Kknows ‘ou, though he ean't recall any one of. the name of Phillip Guf’." “Indudi:’gdd Zella. “May 1 offer you ! ? . '“m you, no: rmm into the smoke-room. The millionaire is to sit in at a mild game of poker with a few pals; he gave them a game in his stateroom last night, but he he prefers the smoking-room. He couldn’t get a deck cabin; wanted the captain’s, but he left it 1o the last mlnu|te: cl:ntlly mn%ed up hl'.x xfllnd Cross a co e o 101 ore s ng, %Jonclo Tom “up' and hmn't know wln‘t he's golng to Europe for. Sam evidentl tkht:;kl ;;’! ut‘ylt mad; and everybody el.lz e o miser; otn?e“r.fchhm s e e Iation of the poor,” said the purser. "So the doctor unhlnd he odght to know; s as poor ey make ‘em.” uz-ns zlon:’ her he blinds door, drew t over the portholes, flung herself upon her AN selt, ntly - fell aslee; ned herself up in her exter wraj dream At dusk she t on deck. Pact TS r:-':o out s fro, in some to of a constit: of simple T several she felt sorry for, death for fear it wasn't o wize to retire to her cabin. She had a light supper sent up to her. Atter supper she put out her lamp and left the port- holes partly open for the benefit of the sair. The night was warm, and with an abnost silent sea. On a seat, close by her cabin, two men sat and talked. Many a queer conversation has been overheard rough the portholes of deck cabins. eila, 1ying upon her couch, might easily have spared herself from the temptation of eavesdropping. She had, indeed, risen to close the ports, when, hearing her name, she p: more cut of self- than curiosity. “Philip Grey,” said the voice; “a nice sort of young chap; the sight seems lo have sober 2 “How’s that?” said the evidently that of an American. | “‘Says if ever she nua a brother that's m."” é of him “And who's she?’ asked the Amertcan. “He don't say; but the nigger shakes his head and iifts ap his hands, palms out, as much as to let you understani ll]m:] Dexter’s dotty,” the Englisman re- plied. “I guess he didn’t seem dotty when he picked up a’ full to my flush,” said the American. “He’s been wandering about the deck; wouldn't have Sam with him; would go alone: and he's just now told the purser that there's a ghost aboard. The pursep, Chaufiug mm, says ‘Man or woman, sic? And the millionaire, ne pulls up straight and he says, “The ghost of a man and the face of a woman he snould have married; but'— And there he stopped, repeated iné story to the ‘but’ and then crept away as it !he_Fho!t was after him."” D T?” ejaculated the American. “Think 02" “Sure so “ 1 thought a man was dangerous unller those circumstances and had to be re- strained?” “Ain't you ever had—er—so much as— weil, a touch of ‘em?” “Never.” :ZKI““N’“‘fe always been a sober man™ ostiy. “‘Th"n ypu have escaped a lot of misery. d sooner see ghosts than snakes and bottle imps. “Hope you may hever see either,” said the Englishman. *“Let me offer you an- other clgar.” “Thank vou.” Then there was a striking of matches. “I saw a rat along the beam in my stateroom last night just as I was turn- ing off the light, and I terrified to “For fear it wasn't one!” said the Eng- lishman with a note of surprise in the tone of his volce. “I ghould smile! Why you don’t understand’ you don’t tell me Do you think I wanted it to be one of those other rats?" ‘“Oh, I see,”” said the Englishman, laughing. “I guess you do,” said the other; “ain’t such a granger as that. I reckon. Not one to blow the gas out?’ “No, not cuite such a fool as that,” raid the Englishman. “The purser reckons it was a rat; they get ‘em once in a way, along the gang- planks, in dock; actually lfe quiet till night, and then just invade the ship. He's disturbed them himself, in droves.” “Really?” o “Fact, 1 assure you.” *“He sa “On his . “Then why do they leave the gang- planks in connection with the shore at night?” 3 “Why do they do twenty other fool things?"” rejoined the American. Then_Ze! went out once more upon deck. Tt was a moonlight night. She sat for a few minutes in the shadow of a ven- tilating shaft, watching the long white tr: the moon, was making and peopling it with imaginary angels, when once more she heard her name; this time her real name, and the voice of Dexter. He was speaking to the purser. - *“It was takan in the name of Zella Brunnen,” sald the purser. “When was—it—taken?” asked Dexter, slowly, as if it was difficult for him to Ak plainly. ., about % week agn.” “And did—dil—she—come aboard?” “T suppose not. The understanding was that if she could not occupy it she would t to Philip Grey, her cousin; which she did. “Her cousi it—you—th: said Dexter. “And—was said Ned Glover Wwas—on not. Weonderful moon, u b'lieve—that Christ of course. Don't you, Mr. Dexter? ‘t—b'lieve anything—except that I —again—there’s ghosts—on this “One of your countrymen has been tell- ing me there's rats. Some fellows call 'em snakes. some rats, some little black dev- ou call ‘em gh Mr. Dexter. If I ¥ *d see the do he knows how to deal with such things. “Doctors ain't no—good to me, purser. See here, you've been kind—to me—I want to give y p." Then there was a pause, as if Dexter was thrusting something into the purser’s and, and &s if the pursuer resisted him, t's voir pocketbook, Mr. Dexter! I couldn’t think of it. “You've a wife and family—you told me so—not too well off, 1'd like to make—you happy. Somebody’s—got to be made hap- py. 1 know what—you mean. They misht 1 had given it you when T was drunk vou took it—when I was dea ir. Dexter. come along, and let's have ink with the doctor."” have written a letter—it's a - pocketbook. TLe letter says—why I give it you—and it contains a few thousand— doflars—and a check baok, with—the pow- fn_ this er—to draw a few—more. If you won't— bave it, I'll chuck—it overboard “Oh! Mr. Dexter, don't do tha “Then take 1 ! “You are too kind, Mr. the purser, evidently book. “You think—er—I've—er—got—D. T.? Think—I'm—drunk ?"” “No, Mr. Dexter; Dexter,” satd taking the pocket- 2 I would not be so rude “I have been drunk. Had 'em, I—dare say—but I never was soberer than J—am now. Good-night, old chap. I'm going to turn in now. Where's—my man?" “P'll ind him for yon, Mr. Dexter,” sald the purser; and they went into the gang- w Zella slept badly that night. She lay in bed watching the glints of moonlight on the distant vista of sea that she saw oc- casionally: * * * Whether it was mid- night or later she did not know; but it was soon after the striking of bells and thé soothing “All's well!” of the waich, that one_of the portholes was gradually eclipsed by a face,,with eves that for a moment seemed luminous; it was the face of FHiram Dexter. * *'% She shrank back into her berth and held her Lreath. *% '+t disappeared. * * * She won- dered if she had been dreaming. * No; she felt sure she had not. * ¢ » Dexter hsd peretrated her diszuise and had been reconnoitering her cabin. * * + She drew her Llinds, turned on the electric light in a small reading lamp and went to sleep, and awoke no more until late in the morning. * * * Looking at her watch she found it was il o'clock. She dressed and rang her bell. “Bring me some breakfast, steward." Yes, sir. What will you have”" “offee and toast, and whatever else is going. “Nice grilled salmon and a dish of cut- lets, 'am and eggs, and—"" “‘Salmon. thank you, and a little fruit.” “Yes, sir,” said the steward. “Some nice grapes the capiain’s put on the table, a present as he've had." She it Zella felt wonderfully refreshed. hardly remembered when she had sk 0 well, in spite of her bad dream. or the start Dexter had given her by lookirg into her cabin. The steward brought her an excellent breakfast, and laid the cloth with even more care than usual; had more time, she anp‘g:aefl, “Rather a hawful thing 'appened last night;"” he sald, as he was leaving the room. Andeed?” said Zella, pouring out her co! ce. . “Mr. Dexter, the millionaire, drowned hisself."” 'Good heavens! man; you don’t say so?" The watch see mm{; One of the men on night duty went after him; they low- ered a boat. Didn't you hear the screw stop? Then you must have slep’ like any- thin’. We put to for nigh upon an hour, No sign of 'im; he must have gone down Iike & lump of lead. Hawful! ain't it? And a millionaire, too! 3 CHAPTER XLIL . ““THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON.” Fortunately for Zella's peace of mind, Dexter had carried his eriminal secret to bis death. None knew of the impulse he had given to the knife of Abner Digges, Zella bad pitied him. His self-murd had sorely afflicied hes: The she was charged with being accy his downfail troubled her not a little, As thought th:: ¥ essory to some little remorse that she had not at the very outset of her engagement at the Palmer House taken proper alarm at th too kindly attentions of her miilionair employer. It was not improbabie, she re- flected, that she had seemed to triumph over him in her love for Ned Glover; that she had, as it were, flaunted her happi= Less before the fond oid man until it had driven him irto that vile piot in which he had sought to destroy the ido! she had set up for worship. This being so, how keen- 1y must He have suffered, if not from & pure love, at least from wounded pride! ut it were waste of time to follow up these reflections. The incident. of Dexter's death seemed to give a new impulse to Z J At Liverpool the newspap an account of “one of the most records in the Umbria’'s log.” The edi- torial pen found the obligatory duties a taching to wealth a fascinating them Dexter's mind, it was urged, had given way under the welght of his responsibili- ties; not that tnere was any re: o Goubt the tangibility of his enorme ital. It was, no doubt, the vast of it, his very afuence and the overbur- dening sense of its influences that had broken him down. He had literally died of it. ‘There was, no mention of what Zella bad feared, bis alleged love affair, reported by his tq the purser. Dex- ter's memory was, indecd, (reated with the greatest possibie respect. During her journey to St. Paneras his death had more than ence formed the s@ibject of conversation on the train witkin her hear- ng. What would they say in Ch ‘Would her name be kept out of the st of Dexter's career? ® * * After what did it matter? There was no o Wwhose good opinion she any report such as she b the ship world influence t She would like to stand well with Lorrimer; and yet, what sor: of an opin- ion would he have of her when he knew as be must some lay, that she had inter- viewed him as Phiiip Gray? At Luton she bought a London evening paper and was soon blushing over it with shame and indignation. From the Fast- nest and from Liverpool the English pa pers had already announcea the death o the American millionaire, and ar prising reporter had interviewed * ceased gentleman’'s negro servant, 1 had been his constant and confidential man for_five and twenty. years.” Inter- preting Sam’s “somewhat confused state- ments, given in the vernacular of the South, it appeared thaw in_ his old age Dexter had fallen deeply in love with his type-writing girl; who was, howev something more than an ordinary you person, being the daughter of a famous g0? Ameriean general, named Brunnen, flm: o moreover, she was a young woman education, and a leader in a great Chi. g0 .movement for the advancement physical culture among womer name, Zella Brunnen, being quite popular in the Western eity. This young lady de clined Mr. Dexter's proposals; a to quote his servant’s exact word: him just awful mad.” He had never been the same man since that day. The name of Miss Brunnen brought quite a romance into the affair. She. was to have married Edwin Glover, a young London journalis who was killed in a mining camp in ( rado, and although Mr. Dexter had fered Miss Brunnen marriage he had a great liking for Mr. Grover, whose death had upset him considerably—so much so that one of his insane fancies on board he ship was that the ghosts of the dead nglishman and his flancee had appearel to him.” * ¢ * The reporter went on to relate the incident of the poeketbook very much as Zella had overheard it. Tha letfer addressed to the purser, with the money amounting to upward of fifty thousand dollars, was the only Indic tion of the donor's sulclde. “There wers letters in his stateroom addressed to his lawyers, and one containing a_conside able check pavable to the order of his servant, for whom he furthermore stated, he bad’ made a certain provision fn his will. Zella having read thus far s with the paper in her hand un t silently aroused to action by the exig railway traveling in England; the ing of her luggage from other people’s, the tipping of porters and other athletia and finaneial exercises. Zella had been advised to telegraph in- structions for an omnibus to meet he train, and she had secured rooms by let- = the streets with theusands of attention being thus wen away from th revelations of the evening paper by novel bustle of London, its vehicular tra fic altogether different from either New York or Chicago, its narrow streets crowded with péople, the myriad lampa of its shop windows and the gradual light- ing up of its thoroughfares. A fine even- ing, almost between the lights of a bright April day: and the wonder of the town grew upon her. It seemed sordid enov to begin with. The omnibus crossed tr: ways once in Gra Inn road, but st passed through square after square, e with many trees, like small s»arks and with houses all’ around—solid lo gioomy perhaps. but homelike. _Lig Were appearing in the windows. Present- ly she passed through compar 1 ujet thoroughfares, and then came into he rush of Oxford street, with its m of shops, bright with illuminated mw chandise,’ the roadway alive with nimb! cabs, private carriages, omnibuses and the flashing lamps of eycles that threa their way mysteriously among the v procession, in which every vehicle was trying to get ahead. By and by she was in the Strand, the railway omnibus still steering through a mighty crush of traf- fic, the air luminous with many Hghts. When she came to Charing Cross she seemed to know it, as if by instinct—the centerfof London, as dear Ned Glover had described it, “and the center of the world.” Thé next minute the omnibus swung around intd Northumberland ave- nue and pulled up at the Grand. It was a great relief to have the at- tendance of a chambermaid. Zella was cmbarrassed in many ways on board ship, in spite of her arrangements to neutralize the services of her steward. She had ex- plained at the desk of the chief porter at the Grand Hotel that a good deal of her baggage belonged to her cousin, a young lady. who might possibly occupy the rooms should she (Philip Grey) be leaving after a few days; so from the first mo- ment of her arrival she had sought to prepare herself for either fortune—tha art of Philip or Zella. One thing she 'ound in travel. that it had many com- pensating privileges. Very comfortable, after the public life of a ship and the worry of a railway journey in a new coun- try, under unaccusiomed conditions, wera these rooms at the Grand Hotel: blinds drawn, lamgs lighted, a fire (as she had ordered) In her sitting-room, plenty of hot water, a bathroom en suite, a neat, cour- teous woman in attendance, polite Inqui- ries whether she would dine at table d'hote, and 8o on. Zella found herself ai- ready recovering from the shock to her pride of being mentioned in the newspaper chronicles of the day as a typewriter girl, ‘When she went down to dinner she found most of the men in evening dress, and quite a_large assemblaga of ladies attired as If for some social function. Luckily she’ had put on dark clothes and a white silk tie; but she made a note in Eer mind to observe the evident usages of table d’hote in England; not that it Was altogether uncommon to wear even- ing dress in _Chicago, especially when there was an Italian opera compan@ ia the city. CHAPTER XLIL ALONE IN THE CROWD. “Good morning. Giad to sed you: pray take a seat,” said Mr. Richard Lorrimer, as a liveried porter ushered Zella into his private room at the offices of Straker, Love & Lorrimer, Bedford Row. Zella bowed, and laying aside the Ight overcoat which she carried on her arm said “Thank you,” and sat in the chair to which, with & wave of his hand, he drew her attention. the kind of reception she had $xpeeted; but sbe Rad yet to learn that, In her dual character, she wauld find'a rival in Mr. Lorrimer. Thero were two Lofrimers: one, Richard, the astute lawyer and advocate, and the other Dick, the genial clubman and private citl zen. In both capacities he was a new ex- perience for Zella, emphasized by his Wwearing a single eyeglass, a fashion that i8 novel to en American. She was only acquainted with it in caricatures of Eng- lish affectations; and Ned Glover, in his varled descriptions of Lorrimer, had not once mentioned the monocle, Which em- phasized one of Lorrimer's distinetive characteristics s an advocate in pelico courts and before coroners’ juries, and ;’ucsulonauy as a witness before the Tortimer was mot a barrister: but in important and historic cases of prelim- inary inquiry before minor courts he had won many a victory, while his shrewd in- structions to the bar in cases before ths highest judicial bench had been no less successful. He was a painstakh 0= licitor and shrewd as he was judi Awa; Bedford Row and the courts, at his club, in his chambers, ameng his friends, he was liaht-hearted, in many worldly matters that for analysls, almost unsophisticated. business even his appearance to undergo a ¢l (Continued next week)