The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 3, 1904, Page 4

Pith a cry of rage and despair M tried to tear herself from him. Na- ure aided her, for at the same moment & savage gust of wind seized the umbrel- la and wrenched it this way and that. Instinctively he loosened his hold on her to grasp it. and in that one moment she tore herself away from him. He gripped at the flapping wing of her cloak, and caught it. But the strain was too much for the cheap metal clasp, which broke, and Mariposa slspped out of it and flew into the fury of the rain, leaving the cloak in his hand The roar of many wind waters the obliterated the The darkness, #hot through with the blurred faces of jamps or the long rays from an occa- onal uncurtained pane, in a moment absorbed her black figure. Essex stood motionless, stunned at the suddenness of her escape, the sodden cloak trailing from his hand. Then shaken out of all reason by rage, not knowing what he in- tended doing. he started in pursuit. She feared this and her burst of brav- ery was exhausted. As she ran up the steep street having only the darkness to hide her, her heart seemed shriveled with the fear of him. Suddenly she heard the thud of his feet behind her. An agony of fright seized her. The Garcla house was at Jeast two blocks farther on, and she knew he would overtake her before then. A black doorway with a huddle of little trees. formless and dark now, loomed close by. and toward this she darted crouching down among the small wet trunks of the shrubs and parting the fol- tage with shaking hands. here was a lamp not far off and in its rays she saw him running up, still hold- ing the cloak in a black bunch over his arm. He stopped just beyond where she cowered, and looked irresolutely up and down. The lamplight fell on his face, and in certain angles she saw it plainly. ale moisture, all n . He moved his head this way and that evidently trusting more to bearing than to sight. His eyes. no longer half vefled in cold indifference, swept her hiding-place with the preoccu- patiom of one who listens intently. He Jooked to her like some thwarted animal harkening for the steps of his prey. Her terror grew with the sight of him. She thought If he had approached the bushes she would have swooned before he reached them. Presently he turned and went down the hill. In the pause his reason had re- asserted itself. and he felt that to hound her down with more threats and re- proaches was useless folly wit er, reason and judgment ly submen by terror. out from among the shrubs vhite face and trembling limbs up the hill in & wild, breathless g Essex in every sound. T yain had dripped on her through the bushes, and these last two blocks under its unrestrained fury .soaked her to the skin. Her haunti till she had rushed up the opened the door of the glass porch. She was fumbling in her pocket for the latchkey, when the inner door was op- ened and Barron stood in the aperture, the lighted hall behind him. “What on earth has delayed you?” he #2id sharp! “They're all at supper. I was just going down to Mrs. Willers' to see what was keeping you She stumbled in at the door, and stood in the revealing light of the hall, for the moment unable to answer, panting and ‘What's the matter?” he said sudden- 1y in e difforent tone and 1ulck step- ing back he shut the door into the din- “Has anything happened?” she “Some- g fear aid not lea¥ her stairs and y gasped between broken breaths. thing frightened me.” She reeled and caught against the . whispered with white lips; “don’t let them know. I don't want any dinner.” He put his a around her and drew her toward the irs. He could feel her trembling like a person with an ague and her saturated clothes left rillets along the stairs wet,” she ¢ were half way up he said: Have you she whispered. he replied. “Where's your “Somewhere,” she sald “somewhere in the street. too.” They were at the top of the stairs. She suddenly turned toward him and pressed her face into his shoulder, trembling like a terrified animal ‘I'm frightened,” she whispered. “Don't tell them downstairs. I'll tell you to-morrow. Don’t ask me anything to- night. %{ took her into her room and placed her in an armchair by the fireplace. He 1it the gas and drew the curtains, and then knelt by the hearth to kindle the fire, saying nothing and a mtly tak- ing little notice of he: he sat dully watching him, her hands in her lap, the water running off her skirts along the carpet. Phen he had lit the fire he said: “Now, I'll go, and you take off your things. I'll bring you up some supper in half an hour. Be quick, you're soaking. T'11 tell them downstairs you're too tired to come down.” He went out, softly closing the door. She sat on in her wet clothes, feeling the growing warmth of the flames on her face and hands. ‘She seemed to fall into 2 lethargy of exhaustion and sat thus motionless, the water running unheeded on the carpet, frissons of cold occasion- ally shaking her, till a knock at the door roused her. Then she suddenly remem- bered Barron and his command to take off her wet clothes. She had them on still and he would be angry. “Put 1t & on the chair éhe called thréagh the dbor; ready.” “Won't you open the door and tak this whisky and drink at once?” came his answer. She opened the door & crack and, put- ting her hand through the aperture, took the glass with the whisky. “Are you warm and dry?” he said; all she could see of him was his big hand clasped round the glass. “Yes, quite,” she answered, though she felt her skin quivering with cold against the damp garments that seemed glued.to t “Well, drink this now, right off. And listen—" as the door bfi“ to close—"if you get mervous or an Mn’ just come to your door and call me. I'll leave mine open. and I'm a very light sleeper.” Then before she could answer she felt the door-handle pulled from,the outside and the door was shut. She hastily took off her things and put on dry ones, and then shrugi herself into the thick wrapper of and white that had been her mother's. Bven her hair was wet, she found out as she undressed. and she mechanically undid it, and shook the damp locks loose on her shoulders. She felt penetrated with cold, and still overmastered by fear. Ev- ery gust that made the long limb of the pw?.r-tree grate against the balcony roo! sed her heart to leap. When she opened the door to get her supper, the glow of light that fell from rron's room, across the hallway, came to her with a hail of friendship and life. She stood listening, and heard the creak of his rocking-chair, then smelt the whiff of 3 was close to her. She shut her terrors allayed. vaguely. I lost that, outside,” “I'm not Y physical cold was passing off, but the in- describable- oppression and apprehen- remained. She did not know exactly she ;:lt ...lfie ting thus clad and wakeful before the fire than sleeping in her bed. Onoie(:_rmee. of the cigar pungent on the air. She shut the door softly, each time feeling soothed as by the pressure of a strong, loving hand. Some time toward the middle of the night the heaviness of sieep came on her and though she fought against it, feel- ing that the safety she was struggling to maintain against mysterious menacs was only to be preserved by wakeful- ness. nature overcame her. Curled in her chair before the crumbiing fire, she finally slept—the deep, motionless’ sleey: of physical and mental exhaustion CHAPTER XXIL A NIGHT'S WORK. ““Have is have, however men may catch.”— Shakespeare. Under cover of the darkness Bssex hurried down the street toward where the city passed from a place of homes to a business mart. He had at first no fixed idea of a goal, but after a few moments’ rapid march. realized that habit was tak- ing him in the direction of Bertrand's. An fllumined clock face shining on him over the roofs told him it was some time past his dinner hour. He obeyed his in- stinct and bent his steps toward the res- taurant, throwing the cloak over the fence of a vacant lot and wiping the trickle of blood from his cheek with his handkerchief. He was cool and master of himself once more. His brain was cleared, as a sky by storm, und he knew that to- night’s interview. must be one of the last he would have with the woman who had come to stand to him for love, wealth, success and happiness. He must win or lose all within the next few days. A half-hour later he was lighting the gas in his own room in Bush street. The damp- air of the night entered through a crack of opened window, introducing a breath of sweet, molst freshness into the smoke-saturated chamber. He threw off his coat and lit the fire. As soon as it had caught satisfactorily he left the room, crossed the hall noiselessly, and with a slight preliminary knock, opened Harney's door. The man was sitting there in a broken rocking-chair. reading the evening paper by the light of a flaming gas-jet. He had the air of one who was waiting. and as Essex's head was advanced round the edge of the door he looked up with alert, expectant eyes. “Come into my room,” said the young- er man: “there's work for you to.night.” Harney threw down his paper and fol- lowed him across the hall. It was evi- dent that he was sober, and beyond this some new sense of importance and pow- er had taken from his manner its old deprecation. They were equals now, pals and partners. The drunken type-setter and one-time thief was still under Barry Essex's thumb, but he was also deep in his confidence. He sat down in his old seat by the fire, his eyes on Essex. “What's up?’ he sald; “what work {l‘:lve you got for me such a night as s “Blg work, and with big money be- hind it.” sald the younger ma “and i r share and go our wuys, George Harney He drew his chair to the other side of the fire and began to talk—his voice low and quiet at first. growing urgent and authoritative, as Harney shrank before the dangers of the work expected of him. The moments ticked by, the fire growing hotter and brighter, the roaring of the storm sounding above the voices of the master and the tool. The night was half spent before Harney was conquered and instructed. Then the men, waiting for the hour of deepest sleep and darkness, continued to sit, occasionally speaking, the light of the leaping flames catching and losing their anxious faces as the firelight in another room was touching the face of the sleeping girl of whom they talked. It was nearly three when a movement of life stirred the blackness of the Gar- cla garden. The rushing of the rain beat down all sound; in the moist sodden- ness of the earth no trace lingered. The pepper-tree bent and cracked to the gusts as it 4id to the additional weight of the creeping figure in its boughs. This was merely a shapeless bulk of blackness amid the fine and broken blackness of the swaying foliage. It stole forward with noiseless caution, though it might have shouted and all sound been lost in the angry turmoil of the night. Creeping upward along the great limb that stretched to the balcony roof, a perpendicular knife-edge of light that gleamed from between the curtains of a window, now and then crossed its face, sometimes dividing it clearly in two, sometimes {lluminating one atten- tive eye, a small shining point of life in the dead murk around it, one eve. aglow with purpose, gleaming startlingly from blackness. The loud drumming of the rain on the balcony roof drowned the crackle of the tin under a feeling foot. To slide there from_ the limb only occupied a moment. The branch had grown well up over the roof, grating now and then against it when the wind was high. The thin streak of light from between the cur- tains made the man wary. Why was she burning a light at this hour unless she ‘was sleepless and up? d close to the pane he applied his eye to the crack which was the wid- est near the sill. He saw a portion of the room, looking curiously vivid and distinct in the narrow concentration of his view. It seemed flooded with un- steady, warmly yellow light. Straight before him he saw & table with a rified tea-tray on it, and back of that another table. The one eye pressed to the crack grew absorbed as it focused itself on the second table. Among a litter of books, ornaments and feminine trifles, stood a small desk of dark wood. It was as if it had been placed there to catch his attention—the goal of his line of visior. Shifting his sition he pressed his cheek against the glass and squinted in sidewisc to where a deepening and quiv- ering of the light spoke of a fire. Then he saw the figure of the sleeping woman, lying in an attitude of complete repose in the armchair. He gazed at her striv- ing to gauge the depth of her sleep. One of her hands hung over the arm of the chair, with the gleam of the fire flicker- ing on the white skin. The same light touched a strand of loosened hair. Her face was in profile toward him, the chin pressed down on the shoulder. It looked like a plcture in its suggestion of pro- found unconsciousness. * He pushed fearfully on the cross-bar of the pane. and the window rose a hair's breadth. Then again, and it was high enough up for him to insert his hand. He did so. and drew forward the curtain of heavy rep so as to hide from the slecper the gradual stages of his en- trance. By degrees he raised it to a height sufficient to permit the passage of his body. The curtain shiélded the girl from the current of cold air that en- tered the room. He crept in softly on }\h hands and knees, then rose to his eet. For a moment he made no further movement, but stood. his gaze riveted on the slaeper, watching for a symptom of roused consciousness. She slept on gfl!flllh' the light sound of her reathing faintly audible. The silence of the hushed house seemed weirdly terrifying after the tumult of the hight outside. The thief stole forward to the desk, his_eye con- tinually turned toward her, When he reached the table she was' 80 far be- hind him that he could only see the ‘!‘:’Nd“ ho; mwr ofnhthe hfioor, her shoulder an e top of her head over the chair back. * He tried the desk with an unsteady d. It was locked, but the insertion of a steel file he carried broke the frail clasp. It ve with a sharp click and he stood, his hair stirring, watching the top of her head. It dd not move, the silence resettled, he could again hear her light, even breathi There were many bundles of I of afffuence. Hi tremulous quickness until, underneath all, he came on a Imr. dirty envelope and a little s leather . He lifted the latter. It was heavy and emitted a faint chink. The old thief's instincts rose in him. But he first opened the envelope, and softly drew out the two certificates, took the one he wanted and put the other back. Then he opened the mouth of the bag. The gleam of gold shone from the aperture. f\{“ ken with temptation he stood hesi- ating. At that moment the fire. a heap of d_ruins, fell together with a small clinking sound. It was no louder noise than he had made when opening the desk. but it contained some penetrating quality the former had lacked. Still hesitating, with the sack of money in his_hand, he turned again to the chair. A face. white and wide-eyed, was star- ing at him round the side. He gave a_smothered oath and the ck dropped from his hand to the table. he money fell from it in a clattering Leap and rolled about, in golden zigzags in every direction. The sound roused the stili unawakened intelligence of the girl. She saw the paper in his hand, hali-opened. Its familiarity broke through her dazed senses. She rose and hed at him gasping: The certificate! the certificate! Harney made a dash for the open win- dow, but she caught him by the shoul- der ‘and arm, and with the unimpaired strength of her healtl outh struggled with him hand to hand. reaching out for the paper he tried to keep out of her grasp. In the fury of the moment's con- fliet, neither made any sound, but fought like two cnraged animals, rockinz to and fro, panting and clutching at each er. He finally wrenched his arm free and struck her a savage blow aimed at her head but falling on her shoulder, which sent her down on her. knees and then 1ck against the fire. He thought hi had stunned her, and raised his arm again when she sprang up, tore the paper out of his grasp and pressed it with her hand down into the coals beside her. As she dld so, for the first time she her voi nd shrieked: Barron! Mr. Oh, hurry! hall Harney heard a move- n unswering shout. With the « hoing through the room he beat her down against the grate, and tore the paper, curling with fire on the edges, fro mher hand. With it, he dashed through the open sash, a shiver of glass following him. Almost simultaneously, Barron burst into the room. He had been reading and had fallen asleep to be waked by the shrieks of the girl's voice, which were his ears. The falling of broken s and a rush of cold air from the opened window greeted him. Piled on the table and scattered about the floor e gold pieces. Mariposa was kneel- on the rug. le's got it!" she cried wildly, and strugzling to her feet rushed to the win- dow. * got it! Oh, go after him! op him! 3ot what?' he said. “No, he hasn't got the money. It's all there. zed her by the arm, for she if intending to go through the broken window. “Not the money—n; shrieked, wringing her hands; rtificate! He's got . through the window asped the fact that she had ybbed of something other than the the loss of which seemed to ren der her half distracted. With a ha word of reassurance he turned and r: from the room springing down the stairs cross the hall. In the instant's by the window he had heard the of feet on the steps below and tifat“he could get down more by the stairs than by the limb of aised Barron! Come, ies gl the few minutes’ start and the darkness of the night were on the side of the thief. The rozr of the rain drowned his footsteps ron ran this way and that, but ne ght nor sound of his quarry was vouchsafed to him. The had got away with his booty, what- cver it was. In fiftcen minutes Barron was back he Garcla ladles fin Mari- ministering to the girl. who v swoon, stark an white on in da some wondrous and te deshabille, reeted hilm cagerly in sh, demanding what| had hap- pened. He told her all he knew and knelt down beside the younger Mrs, ia, who was attempting with a shaking hand to pour brandy between Mariposa's teeth. We heard the most awful shrieks, and we rushed up, and here she was stand- ing and screaming: ‘He's got it! He's And then she fell flat, quite sud- . and has laln here this way ever “1t was a robber.” said the old woman, looking at the scattered gold, “but he didn't get her money. What was it he took, I wonder?" “Some papers, I think” said Barron. “that were evidently of value to her. T'li lift her up and put her on the bad and then I'll go. As soon as she's conscious ask her what the man took and come and tell me, and I'll go right to the police station. ‘Oh, don’t leave us,” implored Mrs. Gareia junior, “if there are burglars any- where round. Oh. please don't go. Pler- pont’s away and we'd have no man in the house. Don’t go till morning. I'm just as scared as I can be!” ‘There's nothing to be scared about. The man’s got what he wanted, and he'll take precious good care not. to come ck. 'Oh, but don’t go till it gets light. The window's broken and any one can come in_who want “All right, I'll wait till it gets light. I'l1 lift her up now, if you'll get the bed With the assistance of old Mrs. Garcia lie lifted her and carried her to the bed. One of her arms fell limp against his shoulder as he laid her down, and the old lady uttered an exclamation. She 1ift- ed it up and showed him a curious red welt on the white wrist. " “It's & burn,” she said. “How did she get that?” “She must have fallen against the grate,” he answered. His eyes grew dark as they encountered the scar. “As soon as she's conscious tell me.” A few minutes later the young widow found him sitting on a chair under a lamp in the hall “Well” he said eagerly, “how is she?” “She’s come back to her senses all right. But she doesn't seem to want to tell what he took. She says it was a pa- per, and that's all, and that she never saw him before. Mother doesn’t think we ought to worry her. She says she's got a fever, and she's going to give her medicine to make her sleep, and not to disturb her till she wakes up. She's all broken up and sort of 1imp and trembly." “Well, 1 migpose the senora knows best. 1t'l] be light soon now, and I'll go to the police station. The senora and vou will stay with her?” . yes ' said Mrs. Garcia, the younger. “My goodness, what a night's it's been! It's lucky the man didn’t get her money. There was quite a lot; about five hun dred -dollars, I should think. Oh, my curl papers! I forgot them. Gracious, what a sight I must look!” and she shuf- fled down the stairs. Barron sat on till the dawn broke gray through the hall window. He was be- ginning o wonder if this girl was the central figure of some drama, secret, in- tricate and unsuspected, which was working out to its conclusion. CHAPTER XXIIL THE LOST VOICE. There may be heaven; there must 5 Meontime there 18 our earth here—wellt . —B % rowning. The fears of Mrs. Garcia held Barron to_the house till the morning light was ate, even for rain’ still fell the coming of day He made his report at the - tion and thsnb-.‘xfi" downtown P it ce. where business ed noon. It was his habit to 'Ilunchmlntl :’lhl: Lick House, but to-day he-h: back 15 the Gursias), striding Up the seenos - passage an hills at top speed, urged on by his de- sire to hear news of Mariposa. He burst into the house to find it silent— the hall empty. ‘As he was hanging his hat on the rack, young Mrs. Garcia ap- peared from the kitchen. her bang some- what 1imp. though it was still early in ace l0oking and pea © her exciting night's vigil. ariposa, was still asleep. she said in wer to his query. The senora had given her a powerful sleeping draught and had said that the rest would be the best restorative after such a shock. If, after she ked up. she showed symp- toms of suffering or prostration, they would s~nd for the doctor. A cautious inspection made after dinner young Mrs. Garcia resulted in the ‘mation that Mariposa still sient. B: who was feverishly desirous to v how she progressed and #!so anx- to learn from her the nature of the lost document, was forced to leave with- out seeing her. A business engagement of the utmost importance claimed him at his office at 2 or he would have awalited her awakening. It was nearly an hour later before this occurred. The drug the senora had ministered was a heroic remedy, retic of the days when doctors were a rarity and the medicine chest of the hardy Spaniard contatned few but powerful potions. girl rose, feeling weak. and dizzy. some time she found it difficult to coliect her thoughts and sat on the edge of her bed eying the disordered room with un- comprehending glances. Bodily discom- fort at first absorbed her mind. A fever burned through her, her head ached, her limb~ felt leaden and stiff. The sizht of the cpened desk gave the fiilip to her befogged memery. and sud- denly the events of the night rushed back on her with stunning force. She felt, at first, that it must be a dream. But the rifled desk, with the, money wh tha Garclas had gthered up and laid In a glittering heap on the table, told her of jts truth, The man's face, yellow and abby, with the dark line of th: beard ciearly marked on his 1d the frightened rat's eves, ack to her as he had turned the first paral moment of fear. With hot, unsteady hands she searched through the scattered papers and then about the room, in the hope that he had dropped the paper in the struggle. But all search was fruitl She remem- bered his tearing it from her grasp as Barri shout had sounded in the passage. He had escaped with it. The irrefutable evidence o2 the marriage was in Essex's hana He had her un- der his feet. It was the end. She began to dress slowly and with constant pauses. movement seemed effort; y stage of her toilet loomed ssal before her. The one horror of the situation kept revolv ing in her brain, anc she found it im- osgible to detach her thoughts from t and fix them on anything else. At the same time she would think of no v to escape or to t it Next Sunday it wouic Those words seemed written in of fire on the walls, and repes selves in maddening revolu mind. It would be all there, ¢ tionally displayed as the othe scandals had been. She saw the t secret of the two lives that 1 tered hers, the love that had sacred a thing written of with all defiling brutality of the common scribe and his common reader, for 1 world of the low and ignob! at_and spit upon. She stopped in her dressing pressed her hands to her face. How could she live till next Sunday, and then, when Sunday came, live through it? There were three days yet before nday. Might not something be done three days? could think § had happened If there was some one to help her And with that came the thought of Barron. A flash of relief went through her. He would help ner; he would do something. She had no idea what, but something. and, uplifted by the 'idea, she opened the door and looked up the hall. She felt a sudden drop of hope when she saw that his door was closed. But she stole up the passage, watching it, not knowing what she intended say ing to him. only actuated by the d sire to throw her responsibilities him and ask for his help. The door was ajar and she listened outside it. There was no sound from within and no scent of cigar-smoke. She tapped softly and receiving no answer pushed it open and peered fearfully The room was empty. The man's clothes were thrown about careless- ly. his table littered with papers and books. ~ From the crevice of the opened window came the smeli and the sound of the rain, with a chill, bleak suggestion. A sudden throttling sense of lonely helplessness overwhelmed her. She stood looking blankly about, at the ashes of cigars in a china saucer, at an old valise gaping open in a cor- ner. The room scemed to her to have a vacated air, and she remembered hearing Barron, a 1ew days before, speak of going to the mines again soon. er mind leaped to the conclusion that he had gone. Her hopes suddenly fell around her in ruins, and in his looking- glass she saw a blancned face that she hardly recognized as her own. Stealing_back to her room she sat down on the bed again. The house was curiously quiet, and tn this silence her thoughts began once more to revolve round the one hope. Then sud- denly they broke ' Into of rebellion. She could not bear it. She must go, somewhere, anywhere to ascape. She would flee away like *some hunted animal and hide, creeping into some dark distant place and cowering’ there. But where would she go, and what would she do? The world outside seemed one vast menace waiting to spring on her. If her head would stop aching and the fever that burned her body and clouded her brajn would cease for a moment," she could think and come to a conclusion. But now— And suddenly, as she thought, a whis- per seemed to come to her, clear and dis- tinct like a revelation—'You have your voice!” It lifted her to her feet. For a moment the pain and confusion of developing ill- ness left her, and she felt a thrill of re- turning energy. She had it still, the one great gift neither enemies nor misfor- tune could take from her—her voice! The hope shook her out of the lethargy of fever, and her mind sprang into ex- cited action like a loosened spring. She went to her desk and placed the golil back in its bag. The five hundred dollars that had seemed so meaningless had now a use. It would take her away to Bu- rope. With the three hundred she still had in the bank, it would be enough to live on. Money went a long way over there. she had heard. She could study and sing and become famous. 1t all seemed suddenly possible, almost” easy. Ouly leaving would be hard—fear- fully. She thought of the door up the d_the volce that in those first days of her feebleness had called a greet- inf to her every morning; the man's deep volce with its strong, cheery note. And then like a peevish child, sick and unrea- sonable, she foud herself saying: “Why does he leave me now when | want him so?"” ‘No—her voice was all she had. She ‘would 'll:m for it dtnd be (‘:m;u‘.l and the year of terror and anguish she had spent in San Francisco would become a dim memory upon which she could some day look back ' wi calm. But before she went she would sing for Plerpont and ‘hear what he said. The thought had hardly formed in her mind when she was out in the hail aid stealing noiselessly down the stairs of the silent house. It struck her as odd that the house should be =o quiet, as these were the ho:r- which Anrpam's pupils usuall welkin resound ‘with their efforts. Perhaps he was out. But this was not so, for in the lower ball she met the girl with the fair hair and ent blue eyes 0 pos: the ne soprano voice she .80 often Ms- tened to, and who In response to her query told her that Mr. Plerpont was In, an and n on but In ans come in” and opened the door. sitting on a divan idly turning over some loose sheets of music. The large, sparse- ly furnished room—it was in reality the back drawing-room of the house—looked gray and cold in the drear afi- ernoon light. It was only slightly fur- nished—his bed and tollet articles being in a curtalned alcove. In the center of its unadorned, occupied barcness, the grand piano, gleaming ricnly, ‘stood open, the to0l tn front of it. “Mis Moreau,” he said, starting to® his feet, “I thought you were sick in bed. How are you? You've had a dreadful expericrce. I've been sending away my pupfls because I was told you were asleep. “On, I'm quite well now,” she said, “only my head aches a little. Yes. I was frightened .ast night—a burglar came in, crept up the bough of the pepper e. 1 wes dreadfully frightened then, v. " I've come to sing * he exclaimed; “bu you're not well enough to sing. You'v had a_bad fright and you look—excuse me”—he took her hand—"you're burning up with fever. Take my advice and go upstalrs, and as soon as Mrs. Garcia comes in we'll get a doctor. she sald_almost violently; “I'm quite well now. My hand's hot and my head, but that's natural after the fright I had last night. [ want to i you now and see what you say ¥ voice. you know, you can't do yourself justice and I can’'t form a fair opinion. Why do you want to sing this afternoon when you wouldn't all winter?” Well.” she said, “I don't mind telling you. I'm going to Europe to study. I've just made up my mind.” joing to kurope! Isn't sudden? But it will be splendid! ire_you going?’ ‘Soon—in & day or two—as soen as [ “But. that _very When © ich was usual der suppre: " she said, going to the piano stool and pushing it nearer the keyboard, ‘Il be. very busy now and 1 don't want to waste any time.” He moved reluctantly to the plano and ated himself. Have you your music?’ he asked. 0, biit 1 ¢an sing what some of your pupils do. 1 can sing ‘Knowest Thou the Land? and Mrs. Burrell sings that. Where is it?" Mer foverish haste and nervousness impresscd him more than ever as her hands tossed aside the sheets of piled-up music. throwing them about the piano and snatching at them as they slipped to the floor. From there he picked the Migrion aria which she ha looked and spreading It on the struck the first opening motes. She 1 over him to see the first line and b t that she was trembling violently. H raised his hands and wheeled round on stool. iss Moreau.” he said, “I truly don’t Te well enough to sing. Don't nk we'd better put it off till to- ow 2" 0. no—I'm going tonow. T'm ready. ious to. I must. Begin again, e He turned obediently and began again to play the chords of accompaniment. He had been for a long time intensely anx- ious to hear her voice. of which he had heard so much. It irritated him now to have her determined to sing when she obviously ill and still suftering from the effects of her fright. The accompaniment reached the point where the voice joins it. He played soft- 1y, alert for the first rich note. Maripo- sa's chest rose with an inflation of air and she began to sing. A sound, harsh, veiled and thin, filled the room There was no volume, nor resonance, nor beauty in it. It was the ghost of a voice. The teacher was so shocked that for a moment he fumbled in the familiar ac animent. Then he went on, bend- head low over the keys, fearful of g his face. Sounds unmusical rasping’ and discordant came f{rom thing that had once made it d cplendid was now gone, the very i of it had dwindled to a thin, muf- fled thread, the color had flown from every tone. For a bar or two she went on, then she stopped. Plerpont dared not turn at . But he heard her behind him say sely: hat—is it? vheeled round and saw her eyes and white lip: moment he could y nothing. Her appearance struck him with alarm and he sat dumb on the stool staring at h cries “What has ere 1z my voice?” not in good condi- “It's gone, e answered In a wail of agony: “it's gone. My voice has gone! What shall T do? It's gone' “Your fright of last night has affected it,” he :MEL speaking as kindly as he could. “‘and you're not well. I told you you were feverish and ought not to sing. Rest will probably restore it.” “Let me try it again.” she said wildly. “It may he better. Play again.” He plaved over the opening bars again, and once more she drew the deep breath that in the past had always brought with it so much of exultation and began to sing. The same feeble sounds, obscured as though passing through a thick, muf- fling medium, hoarse, flat, unlovely, came with labor from her parted lips. They broke suddenly into a wild animal cry of despalr. Pierpont rose from the stool and went toward her, where she stood with her arms drooping by her sides, pallid and terrible. “Don’t Jook like that,” he said, taking her hand: “there’s no doubt the voice has been Injured. But rest does a gul deal and after a shock like last night—" She tore herself from him and ran to the door crying: o y voice! I had He followed her into the hall, not know- ing what to say in the face of such a ca- lamity, only anxious to offer her some consolation. But she ran from him, up the stairs with a frantic speed. As he put his foot on the lower step he heard her door. He turned round and went back slowly to his room. He was shocked and amazed, and a little relieved that he had falled to catch her, for he had no words ready for such a misfortune. Her voice was completely gone. She was unquestionably {ll and nervous—but— He sat down on the divan, shaking his head. He had never heard a voice more utterly lost and wrecked. Barron's business engagement de- tained him longer than he had expected. The heavy rain _was shortening the al- ready short February day with a premature dusk when he opened the gate of the Garcia house and mounted the steps. He had made a cursory investigation of the ground under the pepper tree when he went out in the early morning. Now, befcra the light died. he again stepped under its branches for a_more thorough survey. The foliage was so thick that no flnu grew where the tree's shadow fell, and the rain sifted through it in occasional dribbles or shaken showers. The bare stretch of {round was now an expanse of mud, in- erspersed with puddles. Here an there a footprint stil' remained. full o water. He moved about the base of the tree studyiug these. then looking up into the branch along which the burglar had cvept to the balcony. What paper could tae girl have possessed of cient value to lure a man to such rigks? %1111 his mind full of this tho t his !hnce dropped the root of the trunk. A piece of burnt paper, half covered with the trampled mu!. caught his eye. and he pickea it up and sently glanced at it. He was about to throw it over the fence into the road when he saw the name of Jacoh My volce! It was all = next moment i3 on the printed lled with writ- Shackleton.\ The eyes were nvetl:d - lines here and there 1 ing. He moved so that the full m‘z:‘\: fell on it through a break in Iho branches, It was a minute or two B‘llt fore he grasped its real meaning. =~ Bl he knew the name of Lucy Fraser, - Mariposa had once tolc him it had been her mother's maiden name. i For a space he stove motionless um der the tree, staring at the paper. ?‘ cusing his mind on it seizing on walfs and strays from the past that surged to the surface of his memory. It dflz,’d him first. Then he began to under- stand. The mysterious drama that ¢ vironed girl upstairs began to grow clear to him. This was the document that been stolen from her last night, the loss of which had thrown her into a frenzy of despair—the record of a marriage between her mother and Jake Shackleton. Without stopping to think further he thrust it into his pocket and ran to the house. As he mounted the porch steps the scemc of his first meeting with Mariposa flashed suddenly like a magic-lantern picture across He heard her hysterical cry was my fathei Another veil of mystery seemed lifted. And now he shrank from penetrat- ing further, for he began to see. f Mariposa. some sore secret to hide let her keep it shut in her own breast. All he had to do was to give the paper to her as soon as he could. In the mo- ment's passage of the balcony and the pause while he inserted his ~latch-kKey in the door he tried to think how he could restore it to her without letting her think he had read it. The key turned and as the door gave he decided that it must be given her at once with- out wasting time or bdothering about comforting lies. He burst into the hall and then stood still, tae doorhandle in his hand. In the dim light. the two Garcia ladies and the two boys met his eyes, standing in a group at the foot of the stairs. There was something in their faces and atti- tudes that bespoke uneasiness and anxi- ety. . Their four pairs of eyes were fas- tened on him with curious alarmed gravity. He kicked the door shut and said: “How's Miss Moreau The question seeme disquietude. “We don't know where she young Mrs. Garcia. 1sn't she in her room?” he demanded. No—that's what's so funny. I thought s sleeping an awful long time and peeked In and she isn to's been all over find her. to go'out in all this rain, side things are not in th where.” They stood silent for a mom one another with faces of query The opening of Pierpont's door re them. The young man appeared in tho aperture and then came slowly forward. Have-you seen Miss Moreau?’ he s.aid ung Mrs. Gareia, §§1d Barron to increase their said hurriedly; “but you? 'Yes; she was down in my room this afternoon singing.” - 'Singing!” echoed the others in wide- eyed amazement. “Yes, and I am rather anxious about her. That's why I came out when 1 card your voices. She's had a pretty ere disappointment, I'm afraid. She ems to have lost her voice.” Lost her voice!” ejaculated Mrs cid in a low gasp of horror. heavens!” ‘The boys looked from one to the other with the round eyes of growing fear and dread. The calamity, as announced by Pierpont, did not seem adequate for the consternation it caused. but an oppres sive sense of apprehension was in the air “What made her want to sing?” said the widow; “she was too sick to sing.” “That's what I told her, but she in- sisted. She was determnled to. S said was going to Europe to study. Going to Burope!” It was Ba deep voice that put the question time, Mrs. Garcia being too astonis by this last plece of intelligence to ha breath for speech. “When was she g ing to Europe?’ “In a day or two—as soon as she cou pack her trunks, she said. I don't rea think she was quite accountable what she said. She was burning with a fever and she seemed in a tremendously wrought-up state. I think the fright of the night before had quite upset her. I tried to cheer her up, but she ran away as if she was frantic. Have any of you sean her?” “No," said Mrs. Garcia, her voice curi- “She’s gone. echoed r- ood ously at. “Gone " where?”" “We don’t any of us know. But she's not in the house anywhere. And now it's getting dark and—" There was a pause, one of those pres- nant pauses of mute anxiety, while each eyed the other with glances full of an alarmed surmise. haps the robber came and took her " sald Benito in a volce of terror. No one paid any attention. As if by common consent all present fastened questioning eyes on Barron. He stood looking down, his brows knit. The si- lence of dumb uneasiness was broken by the entrance of the Chinaman from the kitchen. With the expressionless phlegm of his race he lit the two hall gas jets, gently but firmly moving the senora out of his way, and paying no attention to the silent group at stair foot. “Ching,” said B: suddenly, “have you seen Miss Moreau this afternoon?” “Yes,” returned the Celestial, carefully adjusting the tap of the second gas, “she o out hap-past four. She heap hurry. She look welly bad—heap sick I guess; no_umblella; get awful wet.” ‘With his noiseless tread he retreated up the passage to the kitchen. “Welr..l'll "' sald Barron suddernly. “She’s just possibly gone out to see some one and will be back soon. But no um- brella in this rain! Have her room warm and everything ready.” He turned round and in an instant was gone. ~The little group at the stairpost Jooked at one another with pale faces. It was possible that Mariposa had gone out to see some one. But the dread of disaster wi every heart, CHAPTER XXIV, A BROKEN TOOL. @ o' both your housest ve made worms' meat of me.” —Shakespears. erpont. “Gone “A pli They It had been close upon half-past two when Harney had left the house in Bush street. Essex at the window had heard the sound of his retreating feet soon lost in the rush of the rain and had then re- turned to the fire. He had made a closs calculation of the time Harney should take. To go and come ought not to oc- cupy more than a half-hour. The theft, itself, if no mischances occurred, should be accomplished in ten or fifteen min- utes. As the hands of the clock on the tabl dre:vbnu{l three, th o post by the fire and began to move res! lessly about the room. The house was Yrapped in the desd stiliness of sleep. round which the turmoil of the storm circled and upon which it seemed to press. Pausing to listen he could hear the cre and groan of the wfi':g buffeted them. CT ;ul his eyes encoun! impenetrable darkness, c| nmm-rl ll!‘:::] of n;hu Back in room he went to the win- dow throwing it wide, % fistentng:, The raf e e Tom a and where its light . of & nd rose mfigfl u;: the wet bushes in the garden below and