The evening world. Newspaper, March 17, 1914, Page 19

A COMPL ETE VEL CHERUB DEVINE (Cooatidet, 1900, by Mitchel! Keanertey.) Gtworeis oF PRECROING CHaPTEns, = bp MM wil born ha Snes CHAPTER V. (Continued.) 66 OT the—the’—— Mr. Hewington balked at Pronouncing the famil- jar nickname. “Yes, the Tan't it, Mr. Devine?” Mr. Devino nodded a good-natured avant. “But, Adele, this 1s entirely unex- pected. I had no fdea that you were acquainted with this—er—Mr. De- vine.” si “I have only been telling him that 1 should mot seo him again during his stay.” “Ah! Quite proper. I am sure that Mr. Devine docs not expect it. Good-day, sir. Come, Adel Dutifully the Countess followed her father out of the garden. them disappear in the direction of the big house, Mr, Devine thoughtful- ly clipped tho end from a fat, black cigar. Seating himself on a vine- bench, the “Cherub” procteled to puff ttle blue rings up toward the Ing leaves. ‘The ash on Mr. Devine's cigar, how- ever, was not an eighth of an inch longer before he was surprisod to see Mr. Howington reappoar before him, The Hewingtons, it seomed, wore ad- ditted to postacripts, “Wonder if he's come stick,” reflected the “¢ But Mr. Hewington’s manner was not openly hostile. “It has just occurred to me, Mr. Devine,” he began, “that you might our attitude somewhat dis- If #0, you are in error. We maintaining, under rather awkward conditions, our customary reserve. Do you follow mo, sir?” “T get a glimmer now a then,” complacently rejoined the “Cherub. “You mean that you're not mixers, Mr. Hewington smiled coldly at the metaphor. “Society is apt to make distinctions,” he continued, “Perhaps you do not know that our family has been prominent since Colonial times. My great aunt married a son of tho Marquis de Lafayette.” “Never met the gentieman,” com- mented the “Cherul He came to Amer- toa in 183) 5.” “80? Then he got here before I a.” at iginal grant. In my father's time it extended for fifteen miles along the Sound, The old man- sion, which stood for nearly a cen- tgry, was honored by the pres- Jeo of such men as Daniel Web- r, President Tyler and others Charles Dickens was a guest hero during his tour of this country. In the present house the late Mrs, Hewington and myself have wel- comed many distinguished person- ages. Then, as you know, my daugh- ter s the Countess Vecchi, allied by mérriage to one of the noblest fam- ilies of Lombardy.” “Seems to me I heard something about that.” “Possibly, possibly’—Mr,. Hewington waved his eyeglasses impatiently, “I am telling you these things, Mr. De- vine, that you may have a better understanding of our attitude. I might also add that my daughter 1s of @ Very nervous and excitable tem- perament. Since the death of the Count she has lived in seclusion. She has almost entirely withdrawn from society, She bas a positive dread of “ar Devine looked keenly at the old gentleman. “I see,” he observed. “yind of flocks to herself, Well, I've no objection, I didn't come up here cially to get acquainted with you fobes, you know. In fact, you and the Countess Bae) rather sprung on Be. a ho Howington might have been seen to shudder. “My dear Mr. De- vine,” he protested, “I fear that you still fail to realize our position. Cir- cumstances compel us to remain here during your stay. There is my sis- 1 know all about that, and IT woul for the world disturb the sick lady. I'm just trying to be so- clable. I want you to stay until you're ue to I : Ah, that is the very thing I wish jo speak about. Noaetais when we shall leave or ‘we shall go. I had thought of abroad”— here Mr, Hewing: ‘waved his glasses as if to indicate that anywhere in Europe, Asia or might become his destination at there is the matter oF expan: v annoying to be for pa} der auch details, Mr. Devine, Sea ait of that," assented Mr. De- “Besides,” resumed Mr. Howington, re would be the cost of maintain- ing abroad an establishment such as this. Really, I don’t sce how | could manage it. Sometimes I think that I should give more attention to my business affairs, I find it embarrass- ing to be without funds. I have wri ten several lettere to my attorneys, urging them to forward a check at once. But they send nothing but ex- cuses. Tiuey talk about mortgages and foreciesures and overdrawn ac- counts. Juet as thongh I could tell t what to do! So you see, Mr. ‘Cherub.’ CHAPTER VI. R. HEWINGTON ignored this remark, "This estate, Mr. Devine, was part of the or- ‘uture gre very uncertain.” ‘es, that seems to be the word.’ gale of t! hat Sundays, air, and Watching? ; back with a . ub.” You see, it is quite j form. Probably you have a clearer a hat ae I, Mr. Devine.” “Your a is a bit hasy,” admit- ted the “Cherub.” is ~ “Perhaps no, but I presume that your—er—possession here is only a temporary arrangement. Matters will soon be adjusted, I suppose, wie my attorneys finally get around to it. My daughter was more or less worried until I assured her that I would attend to the affair person- ally.” ‘hon she cheered up, did she?” Mr. Devine appenred to find the con- versation entertaining. : “she was relieved, of course, But 1 have been so engrosed in preparing @ pamphlet on—well, on a scientific subject, which would not be of in- terest to you—that I have neglected to take the proper steps. However, now that you thoroughly understand the situation, I trust that you will not act hastily.” “Oh, T shan’t put you out, or any. thing like that, Mr, Hewington. Mako your mind easy on that score.” “It is very considerate of you, air, Of course, until the affair ts settled we shall not encroach on your tech- nical right of possession more th 1s absolutely necessary. If the pre: ent arrangement is satisfactory I Would suggest that it be continued.” The “Cherub” favored Mr. Hewing- ton with a whimsical smile. “Well, we'll let the thing drift for a while, anyway. Only you don’t have to act an though you were prisoners, Why don’t you and the Countess cone wn to your meals just as though vasn't here?” ‘My dear sir’ Here Mr. Hew- ington began an exhaustive review of the situation. When he was through Mr. Devine chuckled gleefully. It was an amazingly simple proposition. He, the “Cherub,” being a necessary evil, was to be endured an gracefully an possible, in much the sane way as a merchant endures the presence of a deputy sheriff installed tn bis store during bankruptcy proceedings, As for any other recognition, thet was out of the question, The Hew- ingtons were the Hewingtonsand he well, he was “Cherub” Devine. ‘That told the story. Ho was to know that the Countess viewed him us something between a marauding bur- glar and an officious policeman. His first impulse was to take the next train back to the city and shift J to hin lawyers the whole responsibil- Hewi He course his lawyers would take. They would neither smile at the pompous absurdities of old Mr. Howington nor be moved by the pa- thetic trustfulness of the little Coun- tess. They would care nothing for appealing glances from brown eyes, © ‘The eyes might be filled with teara. No, he must attend to this business himself. To be sure, he might simply go away and leave them at Hewington Acres indefinitely, but he felt that this would be shirking, and the “Cherub'a” way was to face a propo- sition squarely, Resides, he did not quite relish the role of social outcast which the Hewingtons seemed to think he was filling. “T gee!” exclaimed the “Cherub” at Inet. “I've got to qualify in his class, Well, here goes!” CHAPTER vil. VING decided upon course of action, Mr, De- vine promptly sought out the obsequious Timmins at his office in the stables, “Been hero some time, haven't you, Timmins?’ he suggested. “Came here as under-groom fifteen ago, sir.” his the old gentleman fairly well, then?” “Mr. Hewington, sir?” “Lor’, yes, sir, I know him as well as I know myself. And he's a very fine old gentleman, sir, In his way.” “But what's his way?” ‘ell, sir, he's all wrapped up in the Countess Vecchi, sir, him being a widower for so long, Nearly knocked him out when the Count turned out to be so bad.” “What alled the Count, anyway?" “Oh, he was regular wicked, sir; played roulette most of the time, It's an expensiv roulette is. Why, they hadn't more’n left the church before he asks the Countess for money, and chokes her when she wouldn't get it for him. Yes, sir, he was regular wicked.” 'Who made that match, Timmins “Mr. Hewington himself, sir, He was carried away with the idea of his daughter being a Countess.” "Banks heavy on society, does he? Do the Hewingtons cut much of a figure now in the gidd whirl?” “Lor’, no, sir. Since they lost their money they've kind of dropped out of it all, It goes hard with the old gen- tleman, too, sir.” Mr. Devine smoked thoughtfully for several moments before asking: ‘Any real swell neighbors around hero?" “Lots of ‘em, sir. neighborhood, sir, as you'll find, Why, jus above are the Wilburs, Knickerbockers, sir. Above them are the Miller- Tremways — youngest daughter married into the Earl of Dippington's family, and was re- ceived at court. And next below us are the Walloways, folks that has their own coat of arms, and"—— “Not Nick Walloway “He's the head of the family now, sir, Nichola: “So Nick is a neighbor of mine, is It's a very select “But they're very exclusive, the Wal- loways are, sir, They entertain lots of titled folks. They used to be very friendly here, sir, but none of them's been here now for nearly two years.” “Then it's time they came,” declared Mr. Devine. “How about the ot folks, the Wilburs and the Tremway “Haven't been here for a long time, either, sir, “Very thoughtless of them, isn’t It? But we'll fix that. Hitch up two or three of those gingersnap horses and take me over to the Walloway place.” “To-day, sir?” Timmins stared his astonishment, “No, right Bway.” “But it'e—it's Bunday, sir. Begging your pardon for being so bold, sir, but the Walloways don’t receive on they've got a bishop Lenad OUR AAD ORD Oo Ormritw ox oy IN THE =| The Adventures of a Wall Street Man —==| In a Country Estate of Mysteries EWELL, FORD PVODOO. “Good! I'm right at home when there's a bishop around. And I'll see about the receiving business. You lend to the hooking up, Tim- Arrived at his destination, “Cherub” found that the Walloway butler was coldly doubtful as to whether or not Mr. Nicholas Walloway could be seen. He surveyed the Hewington cobs with withering scorn, and glanced with dis- approving eye at Mr. Devine's to- bacco-brown waistcoat. “I don't think Mr. Walloway Is re- ing to-day,” he observed, “Oh, that'll be all right, Fatty,” cheerfully remarked Mr, Devine, “You trot along in and tell, Nick that ‘Cherub’ Devine is out here.” The Walloway butler gasped, Tim- mina trembled in his seat, But the heavens did not fall, the earth did not yawn. Two minutes later Mr, Nich- olas Walloway, h perplexed and not a little embarrassed, was escort- ing Mr, Devine past the awful prea- ence of the stout butler and into the house. A clean-cut young man somewhat stift bearing, and with sober es, Nicholas Wallo- No one but the “Cherub,” not Yalloway's most intimat of sedate, “kK. In some way that familiar minttive seeied inuppropriate when applied to one w he Walloway chin, But the * * appeared to take great satisfaction in thus address- ing him. Mr. Devine had never honored youns; Mr. Walloway with a social call before, but he had dropped in once or twice at the new offices of Walloway & Co., and his reception had been extremely cor- dial, In fact, Mr. Nicholas Walloway had felt himself singularly favored, and he sald so. For his firm, in spite of the heavy mahogany desks and other expensive office trappings which seemed to proclaim @ prosperous si bility, was wofully lacking in just such customers as Mr. Devine could be if he chose. To have the handling of some of the “Cherub's” extensive busi- ness would establish the firm on a basis where mahogany furniture would be something more than an en- terprising presumption. Mr. Devine assumed that {f Mr. Walloway was glad to see him in his office he would feel the same about welcoming him to his home. Walloway — murmured about a atock deal. “Deal?” responded the “Cherub” lightly. » I'm not anxious about any deal; at least, not to-day. But, by the way, I expect your firm will get some orders along about Tuesday, Sure thing! Yes, it i# something about P. Z. & N. Heard about that, did you? Well, I'll need you Tues- day. I've had my eye on you for some time, and now that I'm a neigh- bor of yours—— Yes, that's right. Got the next place above, Hewington Rods, or Acres, or something.” “But what has become of the Hew- ingtons?”* "They're there yet, b mingle much with me. ‘They've gone into retreat since | arrived, I'm not in their class, $t Say, Nick, I wish you could have heard the Countess tolling me what she thought of moe last night. You know the Countess, of course?” Mr. Nicholas W bit uncomfortab! used to k haven't abroad and m she's a good deal of a hummer, the Countess is,” suggested the “Cherub, Not one of your front- row Amazons, you know, but a real nice Ittle lady. Plenty of ginger about her too, [ should imagine, if she was stirred up. “You see, I've planned to stick tt out there for another day or so, And say, Nick, us an act of charity, Lwant you to c round to and do a litt Bring the folks with The eyel ung Mr. Wallo way arched themselves in unfelgned astonishinent, “You—you wish me to visit you at Hewington Acres—to-night?" “Sure! Nothing formal, you know; just an offhand dropping in, same as you might on any of your friends around her Mr, Wallo stared at him with a fascinated interest. The Cherub’ smiled blandly, confidently, in return. “But we--we—there are guests, you know," weakly protested Mr, Wallo- way. “Gueste? don't mind. Ms, Wallowey something t they don't looked a ent. “E but £ went alloway for a mon y very well, since she @ Well, bring ‘em along, 1 more the merrier.” hastened to mention DODGGODODDOOOODS) GOGOOQOOHHHOGODHODO® that one was a bishop, and named him impressively, Mr. Devine slapped his knee joy- ously. “What, the funny little old chap with the white aide whiskers and an equato: a way cop? Is he down here? Say, Nick, that bial is the real arti he is. Know him ‘Well, you ask him about coming over on the Lucania with Cherub Devine, Tell him I left a special invitation for him, and sve what he says. Mr. Walloway tried to brush the desperation from his forehead, “I will consult my mother, Thank you very much, Mr. Devine.” “Oh, that's all right. And say, Nick, while you're about it, just round up a few of the neighbors for me, will you? Those Wilburs, and hyphen Tremways, and any other: you think will do. Bring a mob—the house is big enough.” Young Mr. Walloway gasped. “But—but"—— he began in expos- tulation, “Oh, yes, you can, if you go at it right,” broke in the “Cherub” en- couragingly, “They've all heard of me, I'll bet. Tell ‘em I'm a freak, a curiosity—anything—that'll fetch ‘em fast enough, Any one staying at the Tremways? You don't say! Comes from Austria, doesn’t he? Well, you tell the ‘Tremways to bring the baron along. Why, the baron and I took the baths at Baden Two-Times, The baron’s all right, too, Oh, he'll re- momber me, Now you fix up a nice little crowd, and have ‘em over there by about—say, what's the proper caper for a Sunday night spread? Ton? Halt-past eight! Well, call it eight-thirty, then. But don't leave out the ladies. This ia no stag, Nick; it's to bo a real swell society affair, and you're master of ceremonies. Oh, you'll do. Yes, I'm going now. Got uke the wrinkles out of my claw- hammer coat." If the Cherub had used ropes and straps he could not have left young Mr. Walloway moro incapable of moving from the chair in which he was sitting. For a long period ho stared vaguely into space without stirring. Once or twice his Ips mur- mured a name. It sounded something lke “Adele,’ CHAPTER VIII, ONSTERNATION fell upon | Eppings when it occurred to Mr. Devine, along about 2 o'clock, to inform him that guests wore expected at sup- per, “Beg pardon, sir, but it 1s impossible, sir. We are not prepared. There's only a small filet in the house, sir, and not a duck, not a single duck.” “Have squab, then.” “Iut, sir, we haven't “Oh, dor't go on telling me what you haven't got. Hash up anything Make some sandwiches, If you can't do ter, Only don't come to me with your troubles, I'm no chef. But I'm going to have some friends here to- might, and I shall expect you to feed them; that's What you're here for, What hour, sir?” arp.” how many plates, sir?" “E don't know; ten or fifteen or twenty etter make It twenty, and then you van discard.” Vil do ny best “That's the way to talk, Eppings.” Later, Mr. Hewingtun comes to ume “You must pardon me, sir, for seeming impertinence,* ‘he | began, “but Lt have just learned US accident that you cuntemplate giving a party hero to-night, Is it a fact?” Mr, Devine ded. “Just a friends, a dozen or so." F urs” Mr Hew- ne Words 4 significant haste Then would it not be prudent—perhaps diserect i» the tter word—for my daughter to Ko elsewhere for the night; to the hotel in the village, perhaps?” hero was a twinkle ‘hewfif's blue eyes as he resp Afraid of a rough house, ‘And how few sis. ed are your” My daughter, accustomed to: sons who might’ “Oh, L seo, Well, sult yourself about It; sult yourself. But it Isn't at all necessary. I shall try to keep them quiet. There are to be only @ r, Is not exactly the kind of per- 2% sm Me A fow neighbors, the Wallow: and” — ‘The Walloways!" “Yes, and the Wilburs and the Mil- ler-Tremways, and old Bishop Hor- baron or two.” Bishop Horton ? took occasion to lelkurely Mr, Hewington's as- tonishment. “Why, yes. The bishop ot mine, Know him, do y: a friend " said Mr, Hewington. “Come down and meet him and the rest of the folks, won't you? We're afraid of the crowd.’ This last waa a violation of a para- graph in the “Cherub's” own code of ethics, a paragraph which read: “When the other fellow's down a out, don’t rub it in.” But the words had escaped before he knew it. For- tunately, Mr. Hewington did not seem to notice the allusion, for ho retired, repoating in an undertone: “Tho Walloways! Bishop Hortbn The Millor-Tremway Early in tho evening tho big rooms of the great house began tu echo tho lively chatter of many guests. There ‘was the portly Mra, Walloway, whose dinner dances are always such bril- liant affairs; there were the haughty Wilburs, the hyphenated ‘Tremways and a half-dozen others, without whose names and pictures the Sunday supplements would be incomplete. They were somewhat dispored to look curiously upon Mr. herub” Devine at first, but when the bishop ad patted him affectionately on the shoulder and the baron had effunively embraced him the atmosphero thawed perceptibly. In the course of half an hour even Nick Walloway seemed to have be- come reassured that nothing unto- ward was about to happen, He un- bent so far as to slap the “Cherub” on the shoulder and voice his con- gratulations, As a matter of fact, Mr. Devine, for one who had never befo: played the host, was acquitting him- self creditably. At length he saw hie butler's solemn face in the doorway, and exclaimed joyously: “What's that, by iret Did you ay aupper? Good! Come on, folks; let’a eee what the cook has found in the icebox.” Probably the Wilburs and the poliopatt thy bbad had never been summoned to dine in just that fash- fon before. Perhaps the novelty pleased them, for they were in high good humor. They told each other that Mr. Devine was delightfully orig- inal, But two of them, Nick Wallo- way and the bishop, knew that it was only the “Cherul maxing audacity which had prompted such speeches. For Mr. Devine was in his most audacious mood. He had been talk- ing for the purpose of delaying the supper announcement, in the hope that Mr. Hewington and the Countess would appear. But in vain he watched the door, With a cherubic smile, he saw his carefully laid plan go to smash, In spite of Epping’s fears, it wan & very good supper, but Mr. Devine took no note of it. He was thinking about the Countess. Yet apparently he was at his best. Mra. Miller- Tremway even forgot that her son- in-law was the brother of an earl, and laughed as she used to laugh before the Tremway mines began to pay the dividends which had inspired the hyphen. It was toward the close of the affair that the bishop took Mr. Devine to one side and asked: “Do you know has become of the Hewing- “They toni “Sure,” sald the “Cherub. are all upstairs in retreat. “In retreat! Devine?” “It's because of me, They don't approve of me. Ington’s writing a book about wicked ways; gets his material from the newspapers. It'll be a thick book, I gu “Now, if that fan't just like De Yourcey!"" exclaimed the bishop. lendid fellow, though, in his way.” ‘So I've heard. “It you don’t mind, Deyine, I'll run up and see him for a few minutes before I go." “Oh, help yourself. They're some- where on the top floor behind a bar- ricade.” “HH bring him out of tha the bishop. But he had not rr on the full strength of Mr. Hewing- ton’s prejudice. ot on my account, my dear said Mr. Howington, “but I my daughter from such you know. Mr. Hew- y v bishop,’ “Nonsense, De Courcey! Devine lacks polish, perha: but at heart ho 1 honest chi Come down and A 'No, no, I couldn't think of it,” firm- ly responded Mr. Hewington, “We shall remain here until he goes away.” Bo the bishop went back alon: When it was over, when the last of them had gone, Mr, “Cherub” Devine, groping about for some fitting term to express the situation, remarked entgmatically: “That's what I call playing a four flush against a full house, Guess I'll take another stack, though Which meant that the audacious soul of Mr. Devine was humbled but not crushed, He had tried to demonstrate to Mr, Hewington that his estimate of “Cherub” Devine as one of the soclally unfit was a mistaken Judgment, But evidently he had demonstrated nothing of the kind. The Hewingtons had elven him no chance to show what he could do in that line. Well, should he quit, then? Mr, Devine allowed himself to smilo grimly. Almost any one in’ Wall Street could have told you what that meant. A keeping late hours. The big rooms at Hewing- ton Acres were emp nd vory otill long before midnight, but the "Cher ub" continued to sit in the Mbrary, smoking and meditating ‘The net result of thix reverie wi that once more Mr, Devine had re- Jecta the CHAPTER IX. MONG other urban habits which Mr. Devine had long since acquired was that of What do you mean, f* n lock the d the ponsibility of a retreat to Right in the midat of it he by an odd noise. It Jem got the bag. sounded as If some one was dragging a heavy object down the astal Looking out through the door ings he could see the lo the aircase, For a waited, and then there appea: Countess Vecchi, t it case which was evidently well filled. She was dressed as it for the street, with a Hight silk dust coat over her black gown and a jaunty straw hat on her head. When she saw the "Cherub" she seemed startied and shrank back guilttly. “Oh!” she exclaimed. I did not expect to find you here. “L could guess that much, and added cheerfully, with a gl at the suit case which she had tried to swing behind her, “trav olling?”* “tam going away.” ‘Are you? Do you generally start alone and in the middie of the night?” ‘The “Cherub” had walked out into the hall and was looking curiously at hor, “L—I don't care to talk to you about it, Mr, Devine, I ant ging away, | ell you.” ‘There was a hint of sup- revsed agitation in her tone, Her brown eyes looked as if they might fill with tears at any moment. “All right, all right,” he said sooth- ingly. “You needn't talk about tt it you don’t want to; only it struck me an a little queer.” The Countess Vecchi allowed the suit case to slide to the floor and then whe faced him resolutely, ‘Mr. Devine,” she said with the air of one who makes a crushing revela- ton, “I have found out all about it.” “Have you, though! Might I ask you about what? 1 know why you aro here. 1 know the whole, meaning of your presence in this house and why you stay here. “Good! You know a blamed aight more than I do then.” “It is useless for you to try to keop up the deceit any longer Mr. Devi My father has confosned the whole wretched story. He told me at first that you were merely here on some law business but when I heard that you were entertaining your friends here, just as you would in your own house, I demanded to be told the truth. And now I know. Oh, I know it all! This te your house. You own it, Somehow or other you have tricked my poor father out of it, and now our beau-beau-ti-ful ho-o-ome is yours. Dare you deny it? Come! Isn't it 20?” The “Cherub” bowed his head in meek submission, “Then,” exclaimed the Countess, “you are not only a wicked man, but you are deceitful, crual! T despise you! You—you are"— “Oh, say, now! See here, won't you? I didn't mean it. I take it back; honeat, 1 do. Come, now, let’ talk it over. Oh, atop it, do stop it! After several minutes of this idiocy there came to him an inapiration. Lifting up his voice he called for E At the second call the robbing ceased. Springing to her feet th Countess hold up a warning hand, “Don't you dare, Mr, Devine! don't want Eppings.” “I want him, though; or your father, Perhaps I'd better get your er.” »% no! TI forbid you to call my father. He is asleep, Eppings asleop. They are all asleep and T am going away.” course you are, But don't you thii you could wait until morning, eh’ ‘No, not a moment, not another mo- Again she grasped the sult- case, “Well, that’s too bad,” sald the “Cherub.” “I don't seo how vou can just now, though, for Eppings has locked up for the night, and I don’t ow to undo all those bolts and not troubl or myself.” him with as much “You She marched pai dignity as it wa with a heavy wel one arm. At thi rae mine rahe mado a de- termined a the bolts. st pidly the watched her aw sho tugged away vainly, “You had bet ing, hadn't yor he sugested again 9 . Devine,” she aaid coldly, “I for- bid you to try to detain me for an instant have longer © right to this house, and T refuse uoany rlaht te until morn- in ny. Nor have y nay that I shall stay.” "All right,” he maid “Et oa you from going, that's true but f you go T rhall eo alone too to soe that nothing happons to you.” “L do not wish for your ewapany, Mr. Devine.” “T suppose you don’t, but I'm going, just the same. I'll get my coat ard hat.” ‘As ho ran back into the hall he heard the Countess leave the veranda Snatching up an opern hat and a rain he hurried out through the win- dow after her. She was easily ovor- taken, for the sult case acted as @ brake. “You'd better let me carry your he naid as he overtook her, but , and the re- P back a pace ‘Thue they started down the narrow xravelled path which w lotwure- ly course In and out the shrubbery toward the main road. Tt was one of those moist, sultry nights which belong to August, but which sometimes come in early Sep- tember. ‘Theres was no moon, Low In the east the atars were shining, but the western sky was no black that the dark trees melted inte it, ‘The locusts and tree toads were shritly Piercing the silence, Not swiftly, nor wth much grace of motion, but with dogged persistence the Countess Veecht — fearlessly plunged into the darkness. Just be- Hind came the “Cherub,” following blindly and angrily chewing the end ofan unlighted cigar. Whero were thes going and why? Insistently he asked himself these things pak of the suit case handle, ntess Wun the bag from » aide to the other, roused him, Kteppod forward beside must let me take tht bag." “LT shall not; Ido not need your—" She began bravely enough, but the “Cherub” had already lifted it from her numbed fingers. he eaid, “but “I know you don’t, tae "i sald the By Sewell Ford. Rie Author of “SH Vor another period they followed the curving path without @ change of word The noble proportions of the rounds about Hewington Acres be- t impress themeeiveve on Sherub's” mind. He wauld have sworn that they had travelled half « mile, and the stone ie posts re not yet visible A_low rumble of distant thunder woud the Countess to slacken her and glance over her shoulder at the inky western sky. This allowed the “Cherub” to come within easy distanc: "he exclaimed reproach- t's going to rain, you see, ar that?’ heard.” The Countess spoke as though the possibility of a shower could not concern her in the lei go back right ‘Cherub. You may go back whenever you 1 am going on.” ut where are you going? What are you going to do when you get there?) Why are.you going? Say, let's stop and talk it over. 1 think thts is all nonsense.” ‘The Countess stopped abruptly and turned to say: “I think I told you, a Devine, that AR hot care to discuss my pi wi ou at all, WIil you give m: bag?" “No,” sald th rub,” “ET shall lug It myself, and I shall follow you until Tf see you safe aomewhere, even it | have to walk all night, But I don't seo any use of being in such @ runh, Let's take it a little easter.” “There in nothing to prevent you from going as slow as you like, Mr. Devine, ac tem there is,” grumbled the herub,” “I've got to keep up with you. I don’t know which way you're going. I'm not used to rambling about the country at night, you know, I'd lose my way and fall into things. Why, there ien’t a single street light in aight, not one, and it's as dark as @ pocket.” With @ genture of impatience the Countess resumed her way. “Cherub” followed closely behind, re- @olved not to get out of ear-shot. The situation became not only a dream, but a nightmare, The further they penetrated into the night more hopeless and impossible did it Keres werg lett pebind and thay Soca to the mi roed ith menacin, impact on thé crown of the “Cherub's’ opera hat. “There! I told you it was going to rain,” he announced. “Hold on now, I'm going to put this coat on you. The Countess henttated. dropped the bag and was holding the coat by the collar. Another more vivid flash than any which preceded tt revealed him with photo- graphic distinctness, She could not help noting that he looked very well in evening dress. He did not se¢m 80 much in in @ business ined to stoutness as it. Hhe could even aee ® reer sparkling on his shirt iors: ia suggested something to er. “No, you need the coat yourself, You'll be wet through in a moment.’ ‘The big arte were coming faster now. ‘They struck through her thin silk sleeves coldly on her arma. Will you manded, shaking it by way phosts, “or shall L throw it away ‘vhon she allowed him to help her into the raincoat. “Come on," he said, pic! baw and starti hoad. ship, it seemed, had c' . untes: The thunder veloping finely. Cra followed crash, The rain was now drumming a roaring tatoo on the crown of his hat. The straw affair on her head had loat much of tte jauntiners. The king up the The leader- od hands, who fol- smooth surface of the macadam be- cums as alippery as o greased plank. “y must take my arm or you'll « ordered the “Cherub.” Meokly sho obeyed, and they we plunging and sliding through the storm. "Oh, you're being drenched!" sald the Countess. Apparently he did not hear, "You are wet through, aren't you?” she shouted in hie ear, “Not quite,” he answered calmly. “Come on.” “But you will be drenched in minute,” she in 4. “I know you will,” und she tugged at his arm as if to impress upon him the obvious t Well, t of itt ‘Ol it’s all my fault, It's my ta 'No, it isn't, You didn't want me to come. You wouldn't have started if | hadn't given that fool y. Ite my own fault. Besides, I don't mind being wet. I like it.” For many minutes they continued the conversation on these lines, thi Countess declaring thi drenched, and that it the “Cherub” protesting that nothing suited him better than being drenc! and that it was no more than he de- anyway. Mainly they shout- ich other, for the wind and the rain and the thunder made a grand hubbub about them. She was clinging to hin arm, and when she turned to shout him about his be- ing drenched her chin almost rested on hin shoulder, It was either that the wind buffeted her against him, or clase she made a min-atep, At any rate, she found herself clasping bim with beth arm, “T-bog your pardon,” mered. “What “1 -bow: ly shriek thunder was doing her voice "Our" he said she stam- he roared down at her. your—pardon She fai 1 this into his ear, for t! 8 best to drown “That's all right.” m was de- d ORTY M’CABE,” Bte. A succeeding flash showed | face, ia spite of the of rain, wore an ex; There enaved a period during ensued a nee. At they di houses near the road, “We're getting into the hounced the “Cherul where we want to go es,” gald the Countess, ‘Tyrepees “But where? Whereabouts te village? ronneuts, i “The railroad station.” 5 “The railroad hoed this the words ae 5 * Wy m 4 course. Yet somehow tha felt that it was a ridiculous Five minutes jater, Fd t4 reached the station, he “ that it was one of these roofed affaira, under wiroge could at tenet find shelter pelting rain, “ The station was dark and’ doore were locked, of wane trucks. auit case ‘ou Can rest are waiting for a train, ‘There's one at half. ‘Look here,” be said, the truck and peering at the earnestly. “You don't mesa to here until half-past seven, —I don’t know,” aaid the ‘hen I He had nate he Pig dail ‘80! AoE wi ‘ea, thi Shows fo ths ee the wi we n othe drive back to mi eo ive cl was silent and Nesrentat oa sen As they neared the house that It wea brightly tlumi through figures were One of thede was Mr. owinetaay was walking up and down hands clenched and his chin his cheat. of he exclaimed wis dramatic fervor as he Countens, and stretched out to recetve her, She went to Promptly began to sob on. his le ir. Next appeared the soggily ub” with the auit case, he exclaimed, throwing down Then, turning to the the “Cherub;' “This ie no time for Adele, please go upstairs.” ington digen, bimaeit “The is!” murmured the stout Mr. Timmins from back- argued, glaring at the “Ch wai jtoundii \ cond id or,’ astounding juc' Mr, Hi ston, “Father, — father Countess, “T'll tell Please don't ask M: “Silence, Adel T will deal with At this moment you all-about riant puffs before replying. “Now, don't be in a hurry, Hewington and we'll clear mystery in he “Little mys! alr’ ure of 5, Sevinee ? anger. yhat you sl wake up in the middle of the as to discover that my daughter fled. I arouse Eppings to learn he left you at 11 o'clock waiting her in the library. I find the open. T digeover that you are gone. And now, at this hour in morning, you come back in carriage. You are a wretch, Mr. vine, a scheming, villainous*—«°\7 To Be Continued. THE SHIP OF CORAL By H. de Vere Stacpoole WILL BEGIN IN } A new * Island” story