The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 17, 1902, Page 1

AST week the first installment | of the latest revised edition of ©= “Nome But the Brave” was published in The Sunday Call. The etory itself and the unique and orig- inal way in which it was illustrated created a big sensation; particularly &s the whole paper eost only five cents To-day the second and last install- t, completing the novel, is pre- the following pages. It five cents. There you have henewest and most popular $1.50 books of the year for ten cents. It i opportunity unparalleled istory of Western journalism, is only the beginning cf The iy Call’s mew literary policy. nd even better novels are to , &s you will discover to your se and pleasure if you read on: further, you will not have to eathless week after week over gravating catch line “Con- Our Next.” You will get rel complete in two, or at the case of extra long books, e n oo also, the second install- rations, posed for by athing human beings, is The pictures are even bet- t week. The idea is fas- g, pleasing. The embers of the Frawley Com- aying at the Grand , posed for the whole se- Johnson for the indoor and Eva Dennison for the ou pictures alternated in the part of “Debby” Philipse. The other : Baroness Riedesel, Merton Balfort, C ; Lieutenant Hazeltine, m Brewers; Lieutenant Curtis, a Tracey; Lieutenant Ac- t Robertson; Lieutenant Ath- i Traves. & Co., the costumers, e staff to costume the rectly; Goldstein & the wigs, while the the best art , the operator, was ke good pictures. The characters wer D wigs * which has had a the East and be will be truly ey are historical psi 1d’s most famous art- have depicted all the sub- c events in the strangs and his royal par- king series of master- Te- ing “Lagarre” will come of Old Vincennes,” “When ood Was in Flower,” etc., all £1.50. which you will get with The for less than one-tenth TYe books and the prices mselves. he name of the King!™ s, and then strong as it had een made, gave perceptibly to r from without. I Acton, We pick wers Four men lay de the others could re- 4 4 sEBRdwdl and ac green t on’s hou: a hable for its many light t coming from it. At th - enged by & sentry and asked » business message to the commander-in- ck him ‘at once,” said I, ! fear that the absolute astor g on his face would end i there. ¥ ee him now, man. He thing to waste time, § He: Clinton is his secretary here at ood aside on the steos to Ivals to enter, as it five minutes a large door e other side of the study or a kb light from one of the upon us. A large hanu instant and my body i a lively girlish voice am now, saying half If "twere true, you and a tall, d 1t quick- d still a moment, uish clearly in the that perfod was He would have but for inton at w short months ame to his na- against the inabjlity to ommander-in- this dissatisfied, g sde of his char- ow become thoroughly whole war. Such bad his commander of America which f afl of us verywhere his ttles according to the and then be forced a fe to retreat, losing more men in the treat than the Americans had in the fight. This was anything but encouraging; and the general showed his chronic pettish- ress in his every action. He showed it now, as he said sharply: Well, Cameron, are Yes, your Excellency _“Well,” well, man! “Speak up! **Tis Goubtless something of importance . that causes you to call me 16 2 think it is, your Extellency.- Here is a messenger from Boston and ‘New- pert.” u there?” L':AI\, I see him now. -Well, sir, what s _§t2” I handeéd him the dispatches taken from the dead soldier. As he glanced over the papers he rang a bell, and bade the orderly who appeared to search out and bring to him L v “And, orderiy" — Yes, your Excellenc; ‘Speak to the general cautiously and bring him away without attracting atten- Yes, your Excellency.” Nothing further was sald until Lord Howe appeared. Howe had been superseded in the com- mand of the American forces of the Brit- ish army by Clinton, and for that reason alcne he bore the present commander no very good will, But, besides this he knew perfectly well that he was the abler officer. He was anxious, therefore, to be recalled to England to avold association as an inferior with Clinton. In the mean- time anything that made his rival’s posi- tion more difficult only gave .him the greater satisfaction, {y lord,” said Sir Henry. *“Mr.""— erton,” 1 prompted. Mr. Mertop, here, has Just arrived wAfh néws that a French ‘fleet is lying in Newport harbor waiting to co-operate “with the” rebels.” ¢ Lord Howe had just fome from a dance Yand was very warm. He wiped his fore- head and then replied calmly: *'Tis the same as our news of several days ago, Sir Henry. What strength have" they?" ' . N\ 1 stepped forward to prevent questions coming to me, and said: *“1 have further news.” ‘“What, still more?’ cried :Sir Henry. his seems enough for one night.” ‘Major Andre has beén taken to Tap- pan and he is to be trled there as a spy immediately. “What 1s the sentiment as to the re- sult?”’ asked Howe. ““That he will be hung.” I answered. “Then will T hang every solitary Amer- ican in New York, whether loyal or rebel!” cried Sir Henry, stamping his fcot, while tears of vexation came into his eye: “Do you at once take mea- S ara gir H nt Pardon me, Eir Henry,” interrupted Lerd Howe, coldly; “will you permltpma to take some steps in this matter?” + “By all means. I wash my hands of it."" 'Mr. Merton,” said ‘Howe, turning to Yes, 8ir.” - “Remain in the house for an hour. If you recelve no instructions within that t|r?e, -call here at 8 o’'clock each morning until you do. ‘Is that correct, Sir Henry? he asked. Clinton was evidently terribly ' affacted by ‘the news of —Andre's . sentence, arnd could not turn his mind to anything else. He said with an effort: ‘“Mr. Merton, you have not eaten, prob- ably. Go in and join the ball and eat to your satisfaction. My lord, I am too stricken with grief to join my guests. ‘Will you take these gentlemen in -and make my excuses o Lord Howe turned, and, at my attempt- ing to apologize because of our costumes, he bade Cameron have us brushed up, an insisted upon my putting.on a coat and walstcoat of £ir Henry's, the one faced with red, the other of white satin. Acton was a sight when he was ready. He was always a handsome, great fellow; but dressed in these colors he would be no- ticed anywhere, and with the combined expression of abgolute ignorance of the situation and his usual careless fearless- ness he would have brought:me to laugh- ter, if T hsd not had a great. fear of what he, m{g t do. So left the study through the door by “of a waltz. - STooD "AS LOVEILY I\ YSPE CIMIEN OF: YOU NG WOMANH% IN TIIAXT PHOTO w4 which Clinton: had entered, and found ourselves the next moment in the most brilliant scehe that had yet met my Puri- tan eyes. I have no doubt the court at Windsor, or. Whitehall, was finer, but I had heard for mare than a year that Clinton held here a magnificent court of . his own which vied, so our reports- told, even with the king’s. In the gre™ ball- room the lights of hundreds of candles hanging from the ceilings in groups and all about the walls lit up and reflectcd in the polished:floor a hundred or more ay red uniforms, with here and there a lde or black German officer’s dress, and the white and pink and blue silks of wornen whose fair shoulders and ‘necks held as high heads and as beautiful faces as I could imagine. Some danced gracefully a minuet, or the waltz. Others sat about in beautiful mahogany furniture, and _still others stood in groups talking and laughing as if no war, nor misery, nor apy suffering troops were on the surface of the earth, to say mothing of all this at their very door. I could not understand it. After all, 'twas a besleged town, and the fright- ful smallpox was raging all about themn, and stlll I could see one beauty after another flirting ‘with- her fan_aund) kcr bright eyes with some tall Britisher and ‘gossiping of the .scandal of the hour as - the fiddlers drew out thesslow- measures Up to $uch a groupy we now came, and BY 2 STUDIO Lord Howe, with no very good grace, ac- costed” an old woman, with wrinkled cheeks and a scrawny neck, yet bedecked in silks and satins and with a towering headdress that made her bob about like a decrepit peacock. “Madame De Lancy,” sald he, bowing low, “permit me to present Mr. Merton, who has just arrived.” The old lady looked at me through her lorgnettes with a vicious squint: “Mr. Merton,” sald she. ‘“What Mer- ton? Anything to do with the Mertons of Salem? “The same family, ma'am,” said I, truthfully enough, yet I could not see l‘:h“ business it might perchance be of ers. 4 *‘A bad lot,” she continued, taking down her new-fangled eye-glass, ‘“‘traitors to the King most of them, except Edward —and he has fled. they say.” I have never, God knows, 'had the con- trol of my too vigorous temper, and it will even to this day get the better of me at precisely the wrong moment, even_ as now when I must needs answer somewhat briskly: “Such division of sentiment is not con- fined to one family, ma'am, in these days.” The result of this, bad taste as it was, was like to have upset me; for the old dame turned purple in the face and grip- ped her fan as she cried: “What business is that of yours, sir?” 1 was on the point of answering some- thing to turn her unexplained .wrath when I caught the sound of .a particular kind of stifl asp: that had sométhing 80 familiar /n it as to make me turn about—and find myself face to face with Deborab Philipse. Yet I should scarce have known her. Her hair was up from her face, powdered and with a flower in it, and her dress was of some light silken cloth, I know not of what color or qual- ity, so made as to show her fair young neck and shoulders, then running down to her waist in some sort of a pointed bodice all covered with a flowery design. She was beautiful! She would be beau- ‘tiful in the most wretched dress that was ever cast off by beggar! She would be beautiful anywhere! But now, in such a own -as I had never seen; she was as jovely a specimen of yogng womanhood as stood in that room, or any room this side of heaven—aye, perhaps on the other side, too. But I knew her eyes and her voice when she said with fine sarcasm, as she might to a stranger who had in- sulted her: “You deal in generalities, sir. "Tis bad taste.” . I could not hold her lock, and so let my eyes fall, and shuffled my feet in awk- ward fashion. Lord Howe saved me. 'One must know the hiece nowadays as well as the aunt, eh, ma’am? Mistress Philipse, 1 have the honor to present Mr. Merton,” and he bowed with a reverence and a look that I did not like. What was she to him, I wonder? In my turn I bowed and apologized, I kngw not what, to Madam De Lancy, and then in a mo- ment 1 had been presented, as well as Ac- ton, to several ladies and one or two of- ficers— Major Sproat, Mistress Knyp- hausen, General Patterson and other young men and women. Howe then moved away, saying: “Mr. Merton and his friend have ridden far and eaten nothing and by Sir Henry's orders he is to be fed. Mistress Debby, will you act as commissariat?” But_Acton I saw with many misgivings already striding across the polished floor, laughing and talking with the little minx, Mistress Knyphausen. What would the reckless fool say? I hated to have him cut of my reach. “Well, Sir Starved Man," lady at my elbow, “will you eat? obey my orders.” 1 offered her my arm. and bowing to the group we went Into the banquet room across the hall, and when I had procured some food of a nature that was absolutely . wkknown to me—something of truffles and splces, and sandwiches with paste of I know .not what substance in them—she sald the young I must led rge without a word into the side hall and fat down upon the lower,steps of the stairway. o, sir.”” she began In another tpne, “I know now who vou are. It seems that you enjoy the profession of a spy.” I turned on her and looked her well in the face. “Do you not think, perthance, that you might take a hint from Major Andre’s sit- uation that may work so ill for him? “Madam.” said I, “if I could equal Andre as a man, T would be willing to be- long to what you are pleased to call his profession. He was the type of a gentle- man." “Was?' she asked. under her breath. “He s dead. Mistress Philipse, or will e was condemned two days ago.” t 1s terrible. terrible,” and she looked at me with sorrow in her eyes. “Why do you stoop to such things?" “I am not such a ma; I am not a spy and what I do now is neither your affair nor mine. I serve one who must be obeyed and I do what he tells me to do. 'Tis no more enjoyable a work than the one I had to do a few days ago.”” I know not why I spoke, so bitterly. Perhaps because [ had not’till that moment looked upon my- self as doing the work indeed of a verit- able spy. “You have me in your power, mistress, and you can to-night put an end to another spy, as you are pleased to infer I am. I cannot prevent you. Indeed, I .~do, not know that I care to. She looked at me intently for some mo- ments and then glancing beyond me mur- mured: ] “I do not know. I cannot tell. Perhaps I should, for I belleve I know the reason fgr your presence here, and it is no doubt my duty—yes, indeed, I have heen there,” she cried; ‘suddenly, in a lively voice. o ‘fT‘llu a pretty town, Boston, but so pray- erful.” I looked at her in amazement, and then heard over my shoulder: R ; “Debby, 'tis long past midnight, We “must go home.” ¥ She sat quietly a moment, and T rose and bowed to Judge Philipse, her father— a lenlfied and courtly gray-haired man of 60, in a kind of court dress, I suppose, with long-faced coat and knee-breeches. . “T will come directly, papa,” she said. “«Mr, Merton is just here from a journey, sné\s'.ard Howe has bidden me see that he eats.” & He bowed withéut a word and meved on. “I do not' know what I should .do,” she continued. . . “The tables are turned, Mistress De- borah,” “gald I - “My: life is in your hands,” and I saw her look quickly at me with a serious depth in her eyes. Then oD A4S roor1* POSE: BY Al JCE JOHNSON & | OF THE FRAWLEY cO. STANFORD that glint came on a sudden, and she murmured: “Very well, then, you will do exactly as'1 bid, or—or suffer the consequences.” “1_must.” “Then accept the invitation you will receive in a moment for to-morrow night.” S “I can do naught but my duty, and that occupies me.” ““Oh, you cannot? We will see. T shall take my course as you select.” Then in an instant she was looking at me earnest- ly. “Do it for me! I want to tell you of something,” and she got up and walked toward a lady of graceful figure and as sweet and sincere a face as 1 had yet seen in that gay room. “Mr. Merton, let me present you to the dearest woman in this whole world, the Baroness Riedesel.” With an amused laugh the lady gave me her hand, and I bent over it with- out affectation, for any one could see that she was a generous, loving woman with a heart big enough for all, and a face that was as beautiful as it was good. She spoke with a marked accent, but in perfect English. “I am very glad to know Mr. ton.” “But that is not all,” said the brazen young woman at my side. “I want you to do something very kind to me.” “What is it, Debby dear?" asked the Baroness. “Ask him to your supper to-morrow night. I find that I knew him once long, long ago. in Boston. Will you, dear?” The elder lady leaned over and kissed her, laughing. “Surely. Will you come at six, Mr. Merton? We live at the corner of Wall and Willlam streets, close by Governor Tryon's mansion.” I said 1 would, and thanked her. and we moved on .to find the girl’s father. As we approached she looked up at me h a bland and childltke expression and softl You may live a day longer, sir!” and was gone. I saw a cluster of young men in uni- forms gather -about her and beseech a dance, and heard them tell her she had driven Sir Henry away by her actions. And then she was the center of the room, with the men around her like bees, talk- ing and laughing as if she had not an- other thought in the world, and I knew it was right /so, for was there another head set so fauntily on such another pair ot shoulders in all that room? 1 stood, saying over to myself again and agal “Yet she is my wife, young cox- comb that art leading her away so roudly! She I*+ my wife, man! She is my wife!” And I went out through the hall saying it under my breath, and found Acton and saying it over and over . till he began asking me what the devil ailed me, and what 1 muttered about, and had 1 noticed Mistress This and Mistress That, and I bade him go hang himself for a dirty spy as he was. CHAPTER XVIIL THE DINNER OF THE BARONESS RIEDESEL. At the stroke of 6 the next night I stood before the fine mansion which the Baron- ess Riedesel occupled, with a foreboding and, to tel} the truth, a bit of a flutter- ing in my insides. We, -Acton and I, had late in the night slipped back into the ruined house and found the old woman Iying in the back room nearly dead with terror, and with the mark of a foul blow over her eye and down her cheek. We got her up and brought her to, only to find Hazeitine gone. 'Twas no place fur us, and so, on her advice, and deeming the open method wisest, we betook our- seives to the ““Star and Garter,” a board- ing-house kept by rs. Hodges at the Battery, down below Clinton’s mansion and over against old Fort George. There we stayed all day, working out, partly from our window view, partly from our information, the lay of the land back of Arnold’s ho@sé, -just above the Com- mander-in-Chief's mansion. Oniy once I wént out to.find a lan naméd Low, who Lad been: mentiomed to me as a brave patriot of the Sons of Liberty, living un- Mer- der . the stigma - of Torylsm to serve his country by staying in the city—a. doctor-chirurgeon. 1 went down Wall street, by the hosts of shovs that had laces and silks and satins in their windows, and rare fruits, and met ladies daintily picking their way from carriages through muddy streeis, full of pitfalls and heles and filthy gut- ters where the drains ran. Low I found at last, and a goad man and true be was to me. Somehow he knew of my coming, and we arranged a plan for an attack at the foot of Arnold's garden tweo days hence. Then 1 left Acton, telling. him—more shame be it to me~—that I wa$ going sup in order that I might get word of Ar- nold’s habits. And yet what came of that dinner would have made me stop a bit, had I foreseen it. And so I was ushered into the drawing-room in the finest coat and breeks I could buy In the shops and a tie and lace front that made me feel like a gaudy popinjay from some sickly European court. The Baroness came in a moment and I stooped over her white fingers and kissed them, just as some one entered - the room. Looking up, 1 caught a glance frem a pair of dark eyes that sent a thnill of joy through my body, and made me laugh in spite of myself; for there stood Mistress Philipse with as surprised a pout on her pretty lips as ever was seen. Did she think I was paying court to another? God be thanked, if she did! But lxw‘d! né time for more than a greeting id a friendly kiss from the hostess, when in came the governor of Lhe town. Tryon, with his wife and daughter, Major Sproat, a Lieutenant Purdy, Gea- eral Pattérson and a man they called Captain Atherton, who seemed to me at the moment to look strangely familiar. Then, as we sat about the room, I mads note that every one rose, and turning to the door saw a young man, hardly moro than a boy, enter, talking easily with his companion and nodding here and there as he walked over to the Baroness, and guessed rightly that it was the young Prince Henry, whose comiing had reached ieven our Connecticut ears. Finally, with much fuss of chariot and horses outside, up drove the.decrepit old peacock, Madam De Lancy. We .were now a goodly company of twenty at least, ‘and, supper an- nounceéd by a factotum all powde: like the rest, T stood at one side till the Bar- oress passing me sald, “Go and take m