The evening world. Newspaper, August 24, 1915, Page 13

| it tor Be Genie ae ent ofa tn bemh Mewleit oar CHAPTER V. (Covumond ) M. le Cure. ] EB secured adjacent rooms at J the chateau, and ieaving W Jacqueline to unpack ber things and under inatruc- tons not to |b ber room an4 promising to return af soon as possible, J started out at once to find Maclay & Robitalli ‘This proved o task of no great 4if- floulty. It was @ little shop where leather goods were sold, situated on BL Joseph Street. A young man with @ dark, clean shaven face was behing the counter, He came forward cour. teously as | approached “Do you remember,” I anked, ing @ collar to a young lady recently —no, some ‘ong time ago-—a dog eoliar, 1 meas?” The proprietor ahr ders “I well a ge @uring the year, { took the plate fi I I “This Then remembered a name Leroux had used raid. and flung it out at random, “I think it was for a Mile, Duchaine,” 1 added, The shot went home, ur, now I remember perfectly,” anawered the proprietor “both from the unusual nature of th ool and from the fact that there igniory than Bt. lay unclaimed for a long time. I jy think mademoiselle had forgotten all about the order, Or perhaps the dog had died!" “Where ts this seigniory ?” igniory of M. Charles Du- he answered, looking curl- ously at me. “You ure evidently @ atr monsieur, or you would rd of it, especially now when are saying that"—— He checked himself at this point. “It ts the oldest of the seigniories,” he con- tinued, “In fact, it has never passed out of the hands of the descendants of the original owners, because it is almost uninhabitable in winter, except ty Indians, 1 understand that M. Duchaine has built himself a fine chateau there; but then he te @ re- cluse, monsieur, and probably not ten men have ever visited it. But made- motselle is too fine a woman to be tm- prisoned there long”"— “How would one reach the cha- teau?” I interpolated He looked at me inquiringly, ae though he wondered what my busl- ness there could be. ‘In summer,” he replied, “one might ascend the Riviere d'Or in a canoe for half the distance, until one reached the mountains, and then” He : hrugged his shoulders, “I do not know. Possibly one would inquire of the first trapper who passed in au- tumn, In winter one would fy, It is strange that so little is known of the seigniory, for they say the Riviere @’Or" “The Golden River? “Has vast wealth in it, and formerly the Indians would bring gold dust in quills to the traders. But many have sought the source of this supply in past times and failed or died, and, —— again. “You eee, M. Duchaine is a hermit,” he continued. “Once, so my father used to say, he was one of thi est young men in Quebec. But he became involved in the troubles of 1867—and then his wife died, and so he with- drew there with the little mademol- pelle—what was her name?” He called his clerk, “Alphonse, what is the name of that pretty daughter of M. Charles Du- ehaine of Riviere d'Or?" he asked. “Annette,” answered the man. “No, Nanette, No, Janette, I am sure it ends with ‘ette’ or ‘Ine,’ anyway.” h bien, it mak o difference,’ said the proprietor, “because, sinc she left the Convent of the Ursulines here in Quebec, where she was edi cated, her fat keeps her at the cl teau, and you are not likely to set eyes. on M, Charles Duchaine's daughter.” ‘A sudden stoppage in his flow of words, an almost guilty look upon his face, as a new figure entered the lit tle shop, directed my attention toward the stranger. He was an old man of medium size, very muscularly built, stout, and with enormous shoulders. He wore @ priest's soutane, but he did not look like a priest—he looked like a man's head on a bull's body, His smooth face was tanned to t olor of an dian's—his bright blue eyes, almost eee by their drooping, wrinkled lids, were piercing in their scrutiny, He wore a bearskin hat and furs of eurprising quality. It was not no much his strange appearance that attracted my interest as the singular Jook of authority upon the face, which ‘was yet deeply lined about the mouth, ‘as though he could relax upon oc- casion and become the folliest of ompanions. . ‘And he spoke @ pure French, inter- god with words of an uncouth patois, which I ascribed to long resi- dence in some remote parish, “Bo'jour, yond Antoine seid 4 keeper. deferentially, fixing his ried rather timidly upon the old rhest's face, orn bien, who ts this with whom thou gossipest concerning the daugh~ ter of M, Duchaine?” inquired Father Antoine, looking at me keenly, “Only) a customer—@ — stranger, monsicur,” answered the proprietor, ritbbing his hands together, He wishes to see—a dog collar, was it not?” he contihued, turning nervous- foward me, You talk too much," said Pere Antoine roughly. “Now, monsteur,"* he sald, addressing me in fair English, “what is the nature of your business that it can possigly concern either M, Duchaine or bis daughter? Perhaps 9 ee He shrugged his shoulder@® 1 can inform you, mace be te one of my Lonere y coorersetha fae eet you, monswur ie cure,” shortly, and lef, the shop. - corained what b aenged te know, and bad bo demre te enter inte & @iscus- eon of my business wilh the old Pan 1 had pot gone three paces from the dvor, however, when the priest, coming up behind me, placed buge hand Upon my shovider and eww = round Wi\boul the least ‘apparent rt “Td not know what your business fe, monsiour, be said, “but if it were 2 honest one you would state tt to me If you wish to eee M. Duchaine 1 am best qualified to assist you to do #0, since | visit this chateau twice each year to carry the consolations of religion to bim aad bis peopie, But if your business le pot hopest it will fail. Bnd it, (hea, and return to your own country.” 1 do mot intend to discuss business with you, monsieur,” 1 owered angrily, I js humiliating to be in the physical grip of ano nan, even though he be @ priest. He let me go and stood eying mo with his keen gage. I jumped on a parsing ear, but, looking beck, I saw him striding slong ind it, He seemed to walk my w ie of the Place d’Armes it Was nearly dark: but though I could not see the old man, I was convinced that he was still following me. 1 found Jacqueline in her room, looking over her purchases, and took her down to dinner. And here I had another disconcert- tng experience, for hardly were we seated when the inquisitive stranger whom I had seen at the ferry came into the dining room, and after a careful survey which ended as his eyes fell on us, he took his seat at @n adjacent table, I could not but connect him with our presence there, Leroux was due to at any moment. I realized reat insuos were at stake, that the man would ne cease in his at- tempts to get hold of Jacqueline, Only when I had returned ber to her penere house would I feel safe from m. The chateau was the worst to have m my head had realized the man's persistence, perhaps I would have sought less Leroux's be- place itt hi trayed both when he was cros: extent, fearlessness, Nevertheless I believed him to have also an elemental cunning which would dissuade him from violent measures so long as we were in Que- bec, I resolved, therefore, not to avold him, but to await his lead, After dinner I_had some conversa. tion with one of the hotel clerks. T Giscovered that the Riviere d'Or flowed into the Gulf of St. Lawrence from the north, in the neighborhood of Anticostt. It was a small stream, and except ungovernable temper and to a certain! tee pases gust Youn FAC | WANT STAND BACK ft WAKT A & rs oa ‘= TOU! Nate WANT. Ms PLEASANT sé Gs I felt my brain whirling, I knew now that I had always cherished a for a postal station at its mouth hope, despite the ring—what a fool 1 named St. Boniface, was little known, 44 been! 3 the only occupants of those parts , "I married them,” continued Pere being trappers and Indians. Antoine, * When I told the clerk that Thad | “Where is he?" I demanded des- business at St. Boniface I think he Perately. concluded that I represented an amal- gamation of fishing interests, for he became exceedingly communicative. “You could hire dogs and a sleigh Boniface for wherever your at St. fingl destination 1s," he @ald, “be- cause the dog mail has been au pended owing to the new govern- ment mailboats, and the sleighs are idle. I think Captain Dubols would take you on his next trip in a couple of days.” He gave me the captain's address, and I resolved to call on him early the following day and make ments, ange 1 was just turning away when [ saw the inquisitive stranger leave the He crossed the hall and went out, not without bestowing smoking room. @ long look on me, “Who te that man?” TI asked, “Why, isn't he @ friend of yours? inquired the clerk. “Only by the way he stares at ine,” T said. “Well, he said he thought he knew you and asked me your name," the clerk answered ‘Hoe didn't give me his, and I don’t think he has been in here before.” I took Jacqueline for a stroll on the Terrace, and while we walked I pon- dered over the problem. The night was too beautiful for my depression of mind to last. left the faint outlines of the Lauren- tans rose, in front of us the lights of Levis twinkled above the frozen gulf. There was a fitcker of Northern Lights in the ky. We paced the Terrace, arm in arm, from the statue of Champlain that overlool the Place d’Armes to the base of the mighty citadel, and back, Ull the cold drove us tn. Jacqueline was very quiet, and I wondered what she remembered. I dreaded always awakening her me ory lest, with that of her home, came that other of the dead man. Our rooms were on the aide of the Chateau facing the town, and as we passed beneath the arch I saw two men standing no great distance away, and watching us, It seemed to me. One wore the cassock of a priest, and I could have eworn that he was the other resembled As wo drew near they moved behind a pillar, the chase drew Pere Antoine: the inquisitive stranger, ‘Thus, near, My suspicions received confirma~- inexorably, tion a few minutes later, for we had hardly reached our rooms, and in fact, T was, when a bellboy came along the pass- age and announced that the gentle- man whom I was expecting was com- tng up, the stairs, went into my room and waited, but {t was the priest Tinyited him to enter, and he came fn and stood with his fur cap on his head, looking direfully at ma “Well, monsleur, what is the pur- Pose of this visit?" I asked, “To tell you, you must give who has accompanied you here.” “That is precisely what I intend to do," I answered. ‘o ome," he sald. “Her hus- Doat as far as that point, and I believe he makes his The stars blazed brilliantly overhead; upon our tanding at the door of Jacqueline’s, Bidding her good night, sald good night to Jacqueline ang neath my pillow. had thought It would be the stranger, he thundered, “that the unhappy woman He appeared disconcerted, I gath- ered from his stare that he had sup- posed I knew, “This is a Catholic country,” he went on, more quietly, “There is no divorce; there can be none. Mar- riage is a sacrament, Binning as she pee I placed my hand on his shoulder. “| will not hear any more,” I said, “Go!" I pointed toward the door. “Lam going to take her away with me," he said, and crossing the thresh- old into the corridor placed one hand on the door of Jacqueline’s room. I got there first. I thrust him vio- lently aside—it was like pushing a monument—turned the ke: which happily was still outside, and put it in my pock t. “lam ready to deal with her hus- band,” I said. “I am not ready to deal with you, Leave at once or I will have you arrested, priest or no priest,” He raised his arm threateningly. “In God's name"-—— he began. wad “In God's name you shall not tn- terfere with me," I cried, ‘Tell that to your confederate, Simon Leroux, A pretty priest you are!" I raged, “How do I know she has a husband? How do I know you are not In league with her persecutors? How do I know you are a priest at all?! He seemed amazed at the violence of my manner, “This is the first time my _priest- hood has been denied,” he sald quiet- ly. ell, I have offered you your chance, I cannot use violence, If you refuse, you will bring your own Puntshment upon your head, and hers on that of the unhappy woman whom you have led into sin,” “Go!" I shouted, pointing down the Passage. He turned and went, his soutane sweeping against the door of Jacque. line's room as he went by. At the en- trance to the elevator he turned again and looked back steadily at ine, Then the door clanged and the elevator went down, I unlocked the door of Jacqueline’s room, I saw her standing at the foot of the bed. She was supporting her- self by her hands on the brass me. work. Her face was white. As I tered she loo! up piteously at me, “Who-—was—that?” ehe asked in a frightened whisper. “An impudent fellow—that is all, Jacqueline.” “I thought T knew his votce,” she answered slowly. “Tt made me—al- most—remember. And I do not want to remember, Paul. She put her arms about my neck and cried, I tried to comfort her, but it was a long time before I suc- ceeded. T locked her door on the outside, and that night I slept with the key be- CHAPTER VI. At the Foot of the Clif. HE next morning, after again cautioning Jacqueline not to leave her room until I returned, I went to the house of Capt. Dubola on Paut Street, in the Lower Town. I was admitted by a pleasant look- ing woman, who told me that the cap- @1) the money in tain would not be home until 8 in the afternoon, so I returned to the cha- teau, took Jacqueline for 4 sleigh ride round the fortifications, and delighted her, and myself also, by the purchase of two fur coats, heavy enough to ex- clude the biting cold which I anticl- pated we should experience during our journey. In the afternoon I went back to Paul Street and found M, Dub at home. He was a man of agreeable appearance, a typical Frenchman of about forty-five, with a full face sparsely covered with a black beard that was beginning to turn gray at the sides, and with an air of sagacious understanding, in which I detected both sympathy and a lurking humor, When | explained that I wanted to secure two passages to St, Boniface, his brows contracted, “Dieu! So you too are going to he Chateau Duchaine!" he exclaimed, there not room for two more on the boat of Capt, Duhamel?" I disclaimed all knowledge of Du- hamel, but he looked entirely uncon- vinced, “It is @ pity, monsieur, that you are not acquainted with Capt, Du- hamel,” he said dryly, “because I can- not take you to St. Boniface, But un- doubtedly Capt. Duhamel will assist you and your friend on your way to the Chateau Duchaine,” “Why do you suppose that I am going to the Chateau Duchaine?” I inquired angrily. He flared up, too. “Diable!" he burst out, “do you suppose all Quebec does not know what is in the wind? But #ince you are so ignorant, monsieur, I Will enlighten you, We will assume, to begin then, that you are not going to the chateau, but only to St. Boni- face, perhaps to engage in fishing for your support, Fa, imonsieur?* Here he looked mockingly at my fur coat, which hardly bore out this Presumption of my iadigence, “Eh, bien, to continue, Let ws sup. pose that the affairs of M. Charles Duchaine have interested a gentle- man of business and politics whom we will call M. Leroux—just for the sake of giving him @ name, you understand,” he resumed, looking at me malictously, And at this M. Ieroux imagines that there 1s more than spruce timber to be found on the scigniory. Bien, but consider further that this M. Leroux ts a mole, as we cai! our politicians here. It would not sult him to appear openly in such an enterprise? He would always work through hia agents in everythig, would he not, being a mole? “Let us say, then, that he arranges with a Capt. Duhamel to convey his party to St, Boniface, to which point he will go secretly by another route, and that he will join them there and in short, monsieur, take yourself and your friend to the devil, for I Won't give you passage.” His face was purple, and T assumed that he bore no love for Simon, whose name seemed to be of considerable importance in Quebec, I was de- flebted at the turn affairs were tak- ng. “You have not a very kindly feel- ing for this mythteal person whom we have agreed to call Leroux,” I said. Capt. Dubots Jumped out of his chair and raised his arma passton- ately above him. *No, nor for of bis friends. he answered, "Go back to him-for I know he sent you to mean? tell him be cannot hire Alfred Dubois for ny “T am glad to hear you say that,” 1 answered, "because Leroux is no friend of mine. Now listen to me, Capt. Dubois. It is true that I am going to the chateau, if I can get there, but I did not know that Leroux had made his arrangements already. In brief, he is in pursuit of me, and I have ‘urgent reasons for avolding him. My companion is a lady"—- “Eh?” he exclaimed, looking atupid- lly at me, “And I am anxious to take her to the chateau, where we shall be from the man"——- “A lady!" exclaimed the captain, “A young one? Diable! Why didn't you tell ine so at first, monsieur? I'll take you. I will do anything for an enemy of Leroux. He put my brother in jail on a false charge be- cause he wouldn't bow to him—my brother died there, monsieur—that was his wife who opened the door to you, And the children, who might have starved, if L had not been able to take care of them! And he has tried to rob mo of my position, only it 1s a Dominion one—the r 'The captain was becoming inco- herent, He drow his sleeve across his eyes. ‘But @ lady!" he continued with forced gayety a moment later, “I do not know your business, monsteur, but T can guess, perhaps" —~ “But you must not misunderstand me,” I tnterposed. “She is not"—— “Diable! It's all right!" sald the ptain, slapping me upon the back. “No explanations! Not a word, I as- sure you, | am the most discreet of men, Madelein U This last word was a deep chested bellow, and in response a little girl came running In, staggering under the weight of the captain's overcoat of raccoon fur. “That ls my overcoat voice plained “My nt boys. God knows best, can save much I wish they were all girls, but And, you see, a man trouble, for by the tone in which I eal! Madeleine knows whether it Is my overcoat or my pipe or slippers that I want, or whether I am growing hungry I thought that the captain's hunger voice must shake the rafters of the old building. now, mi ously, when T am going to take you down to the pler and show you my boat, And [ will tell you as much as [ know concerning the plans of that scoun- drel, In brief, {t was known that @ party of his friends had been quar- tered for some time at. the chateau; they come and go, in fact, and now he is either taking more, or the same ones, back again, and God knows why he takes them to #0 desolate a region, unless, as the rumor has it, he has Aigcovered coal fleldy upon the seign- lority and holds M. Duchaine In his power, Well, monsieur, a party sail with Captain Duhamel on to-night tide, which will carry me down the gulf also. “You @ee, monateur," he continued, “{t is irporslble to clear the lee un- lesa the tide bears us down; but once the Lsle of Orleans is past we shall be {n more open water and independ- ent of the current. Captain Duhamel's boat 1s berthed at the same pler as mine upon the opposite side, for they hoth belong to the Saint-Laurent Company, which leases them in win- te ‘Wo start together, then, but I shall expect to gain everal hours during the four days’ journey, for 1 know the Claire well, and she cannot keep pace with my Gainte-Vierge, ia \ “he contin- had left the fact, it was only yesterday that the Government arranged for me to take In place of over the Sainte-Viergs Yne Claire, which 1 have commanded all the winter, for it Is essential that the malis reach St. Boniface and the maritime villages as quickly as pos- sible So you must bring your lady aboard the Sainte-Vierge by 9 to- night. "T shall telegraph to my friend Danton at St. Boniface to have @ sleigh and dogs at your disposal when you arrive, and a tent, food and sleep- ing bags,” continued Captain Dubols, “for it must be a hundred and fifty miles from St, Boniface to the Cha- teau Duchaine. It Is not a Journey that a woman should take in winter,” he added with a sympathetic glance at me, “but doubtless your lady knows the way and the journey well. The question seemed extraordl- narily sngacious; it threw me Into confusion. “You see, M. Danton carried the malls by dog sleigh before the steam- phip winter mall service was in- augurated,” he went on, “and now he will be giad of an opportunity to rent his animals, So I shall wire him to- night to hold them for you alone, and shall describe you to him, And thus we will check M. Leroux's designs, which have doubtless included this point. And so, with half @ day's start, you will have nothing to fear from him-only remember that he has no scruples, Still, I do not think he will catch you and Mile. Jacqueline before you reach Chateau Duchaine,” he ended, chuckling at his sagacity “Ah, well, monsieur, who else could your lady be?" asked, siniling at my surprise, “L knew well that some day she must leave those wilds, He- sides, did I not convey her here from St. Boniface on my return, less than a week ago, when she pleaded for secrecy? I suspected something agi- tated her then, So it was to find @ husband that she departed thus? When she is at home again kneeling at her old father's feet, pleading for forgiveness, he will forgive—bave no fear, mon aml.” So Jacqueline had left her home not more than a week before! And the captain had no suspicion that she was married then! Yet Pere Antoine claimed to have performed the cere- mony. To whom? And where was the man who should have stood in my place and shielded her against Leroux? I made Dubois understai not without difficulty, that we were still unmar His ‘face fell when he realized that 1 was in earnest, but after a littin he made the best of the situation, though it was evident that some of the glamor was scratched from the romance, in his opinion, By now we had arrived at wharf, It was a short pier at the foot of one of the numerous narrow sirevia that run down from the base of the to the On ide, wedged in among the floes, tons mighty cliff which ascends ramparts and Park Frontenac. either lay a ema ehip of not man burden--the Claire and the jainte Vierge, respectively. The latter vessel Jay upon our right a@ we approached the end of the wharf, “Hallo! Hallo, Pierre!” short black beard ca the deck and stopped a! the gangway. “It is all right,” aid Dubois, after a few minutes’ conversat: "Pierre understands all that is necessary and he will tell the men. And now I will show you the ship.” ‘There was a emall cabin for Jaoque- Une and another for myself adjoining. | the fifty dolla continued reproachfully restored by this pi the shouted Dubots tn what must have resembled ‘his dinner voice, and a seaman with a running up & there should be no 4 the captain, “Mut bard, monsieur, with prices rising end (he hungry mouthe always open, like tt te jittle birds” Ne wan overioyed of the eaht of b WEAT WEER'S COMPLETE MOVEL IN TRE EVERING © A Soldier of the Legion By C. N. and A. M. WILLIAMSON fold plusging de on abres WAPTER VE, Captain Dubois. SLANG! Cling! 1 pounded a6 (hough come Ulente Biackemith were pounding os « mighty eavil te a devil's chorus of Inugnier, Audi wan bound lo the @teel and each blew Awokemed hideous echoes which went y make une stanch at wafrlendiy and resounding through my brats forever, binu, though friendship Clang! Clang! y . Hy the way,” 1 eald, “do you heow go ame, Were erthaenl ane ® priest named Pere Antot An old mant A etrong Why, assurediy, monsieur the captain. ry body knows him He has the parish of the Kiviere d'Or district, An tw tend, year in hie A nain priesta are, a to make bis or upe cur, am not You will do weil uaintance ” He placed one brawny hand upon all our my shoulder and swung me around. “acre! Now et last | understand’ he bellowed. "Bo It Is Pere Ant who ts to make you and mademoinelie he His good bumor being cc mation of the romanc parted from me on the wharf ¢ way to the telegraph office, repeating his Instructions to the effect that we were to be aboard the boat by nine, as he would not be able to remain later than that hour on account of the ude. It had grown dark long before and, looking at my wateh, [ was aur- prised to see that it’ was already past 6 o'clock. | had no time to lose in returning to the chateaa, But though | could see it outlined upon the cliff, | soon found myself lont among the maze of ow atrente n | was wandering, L asked tion of one of two wayfarers, 6 wore all men of the laboring class, and thelr Instructions, given in the provincial patois, were quite un- intelligible to me. A man was coming up tho atreet behind me, and I turned to question him, but as I decreased my pace, he diminished his also, and when quickened mine he went faster as well, I began to have an uneasy sense that he might be following me, and accordingly hastened onward un- til I came to a road which seemed to lead up the hill toward the ram- parts. . The chateau now stood some Ais- tance upon my left, but once I had reached the summit of the cliff it would only be a short walk away. The road, however, led me into a blind alley, the furth ing the base of the cll street emerged from it at angie, and Heving tha’ extremity be- be- acclivity. Aw [ entered this street I heard the me quicken and, looking around, perceived that the footsteps behind man was close upon me. He at the moment I did and dt in a small court. ‘There waa notht ‘emarkable in this, only to my straining eyes he neemed to bear a resemblance to the man with encountered at the corner of Sixth Avenue on the night when I met Jacqueline, I knew from Leroux’s statement to me that the man had been a member of his gang. | was quite able to take care of myself under normal clreum- stances, But now—1 was afraid. The mighty cliff before me, the silence of the deserted alleys in which I wan- dered helplessly, the thought of Jac- queline alone, waiting anxiously for my return, almost unmanned me. felt like a hunted man, and my safety, upon which her own depended, at- tained gn exaggerated Importance in my mind, So I almost ran forward into the byway which seemed to lead toward the summit, and as I did #0 I heard the footsteps close behind me again, I had_entered one of the narrdweat streets T had ever seen, and the most rious, It was just wide enough to admit the passage of a sleigh, per- haps; the crumbling and dilapldated old hou which seemed deserted, were connected overhead by &@ succes- sion of wooden bridges, and those on my left were built into the solid rock which rose sheer overhead, In front of me the alley seemed to widen, I almost ran; but when L reached it I found that jt was merely a bend in the passage ‘and the alley ran on straight as before, On iny left hand was a tiny, un- fenced courtyard, not more than six yards in area, and 1 turned into this quickly and waited. I was con fident that the bend in the street had hidden ma from my pursuer and as I antictpated, he came on at @ aw fter rate Ho was abreast of me when I put out my hand and grasped hima by the cout, while with the other I felt in my pocket for my automatic pistol it was not there. I had left tt in the pocket of the overcoat which L had changed at the furrier's shop and had went to the chateau, And I was looking into the villainous face of the ruffian who had knocked me dowa on h Avenue! ire you following me for?” d furtously, He wrenched x himself out of my «rasp and pulled a long knife from his pocket. I caught him by the wrist, and we wrestied io aud fio upon'the snow. He pummalled me about the face with his free hand, but though 1 was no match for him in strength he could not get the knife from me. ‘Tho keen steel slashe my fingers, but the thought of Jac- queline helped me T got his hand open, snatched the knife, and flung it far away among the stunted shrubs that clung to the cliffside, And we stood watching each other, panting He did not try to attack me again, but stood Just out of my reach, grin. ning diabolically at me. His raze shifted over my shoulder, Inatine- tively [ swung around, a# the dry snow orackled behind me, 1 was a second too late, for I saw nothing but the looming figure of ercond ruffian and his upraised armj 4 seecmsict ; but another right ny of the byways would eventually take me to the top of the the patch whom I had there was & peroepuble interval be- tween each one and the memt; they were drawn out and totoierably dew, 4 iastod Lnrough uncounavie 4 strove to free myself, I km was dream trom whiow ow the ft " It would be so easy to sink down eo even the ea ty S would ao longer, heard, but against thie was t perative need to save-—-not the now, but-——— The name wan an sweet as upon my lips. It was ae Living for, It wag—J The remembrance freed 4 consciousness began to return, | knew the hammering was my own heart forcing the blood heavily through the arteries of the brain, That name—Annette — Jeannette— Jacqueline! 1 had gone back to my rooms and saw a body upon the floor, Jacqueline Red killed somebody and I must save er Ail through the mist-wrapped a bor- ory. » back to consctournens, Ew up out of the pit, and I aw light. Suddenly [ realized that my eyew were wider open and that I was star~ ing at the moon over the housatops, With consciousness came pain, My head »bded almost unbearably and 1 was stiff with cold. T raised my- self weakly, and then [ became awar that somebody was bending over m It was a roughly dressed, rough- looking denizen of the low quarter into whieh I bad strayed. His arma were beneath my neck, raising my head, and he w looking into my face with an exp n of reat co cern upon bis own good-natured one, “Diable! I thought you were dead!" I could make out amid the stream of his dialect, but the remainder of his ch was beyond my understanding. “Help me!” I muttered, reaching for his hand. He understood the gesture, for he asalsted me to my feet, and, after I had leaned weakly against the wall of a house for a minute or two, I that I could stand unassisted, I looked round in bewilderment. “Where am [?" I asked, tit by that first memory of New York, “In Sous-le-Cap, monsleur,” @ii- awered the man, I felt in my pocket for my watch and drew ft out. It was strange tha! the men had not robbed me, but suppose they had become terrified at thelr work and had run off. However, I did not think of that at the time, I think my action was an automatic the natural refuge for a per- the sight of the my memory, and ruah back into my mind with force that emed to send an accession of new strength through my limba, It was a few minutes past etght. And the boat aafled at nine. I must have lain stunned in Sous-le-C Street for an hour and a half, at Teast, and only the supreme necessity awakening, realized through unoon-, aciousness, had saved me from dying under the snows, I found that I could w: explained to the man tha! go to the chateau, was taken by him to the top of a winding road, near at hand, from which I could see my dea- Unation at no great distance from me. Dismissing my friendly guide and, sending him back rejoicing with lber- ‘fl largesse, I hurried as quickly as I, could make my way along the ram- parts, past the frowning, ancient can- non, skirting the park, until I burat, into the chateau at half past the hour, I must have presented a dreadful spectacle, for my hair and collar were matted with blood, and saw the guests stare and shrink from me. The clerk came toward me and stopped me at the entrance to the elevator. “wh is Miss Hewlett?” I gasped. “Dido't you meet her? She left here nearly an hour ago.” I caught bim by the arm, and I think he imagined that I was going to selse him by the throat also, for he backed away from me, and I saw a look of fear come into bis eyes. The ele- vator attendant came running be- tween us, “Your friend’-——he * My friend?” I cried. ‘He came for her and said that you had met with an accident,” the clerk ontinued. ‘She went with him at He took her away Ina sl 1 sure that you had ber when you came in.” But already I was half way across the hall and running for the door. d wildly across the court and to- ¢ terrace. of the scheme was ine was on Captain Du- boat, which sailed at nine. 4 ly twenty minutes remained to me. If | had not had the good luck to meet Dubois! had underestimated Lerouzx's shrewdness, He must have tele- «raphed instructions from New York before my train was out of the coun- try, secured the boat, laid his plans auring pis journey nerihward ead had me struck down while Jacqueline was stolen from my care, And he had spared no details, even to enlisting the aid of Pere Antoine. If he bad known that my destina- tlon Wasa the same as his, he might @ Waited, but it was not the char- of the man to walt, any more than t¢ was to participate person- ally in his schemes He worked through others, sitting back and pull. ing the strings, and he struck each blow on time, I ought to have known that. I haa should have read him better. always dawdled. I trusted to the fue ture instead of acting, What had [ against a mind like his? I was a novice at chess pitting my- self against a master of the game, (To Be Continued.) % Mew