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By LOLLIE BELLE WYLIE
Written for 15he SUNNY SOUTH
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RAXDFATHER came into
my sitting room one
morning and handed me
an official-looking docu
ment.
“It's the deed to Pi
rate’s Pocket," said he,
enthusiastically.
“Ghosts and all?” I
asked, endeavoring to
hide my frightful exuber
ance by an air of playful
ness.
“By glory.” and grand
eur's fist went crashing down upon a
heavy piece of mahogany. "if I hear
that silly story gossiped. I’ll have the
place dashed into the sea!'’
“But they do say—”
"And who are the ’they says’,” inter
rupted my grandfather angrily, “but a
set of liars!’’
With that, he banged the door shut
and left me alone.
I was glad of tho ghosts, though, that
were said to inhabit the place, for they
promised protection from idle intrusion,
and somewhere in one of my transmi
grations in the Orient there must have
mixed in my blood an element of the
superantural, for anything along that
line delighted me.
Pirate's Pocket indented the coast of
the Gulf of Mexico in Alabama. It was
a quaint old adobe home of Spanish ar
chitecture with iron gratings and over
hanging balconies, but what was most
curious of ali, was a great circular orna
mentation made to resemble a large hu
man eye, that was ever slowly opening
and shutting as It turned towards the
sea.
It was impossible to determine how
the eye was built, for the wall befllnd
it was an Impenatrable barricade aif
stone and mortar, and the outer wall was
lifted perpendicularly above the water,
so high, so straight that no one had ever
been able to climb to it.
It was this singular mechanical de
vice which seemed governed by the ris
ing and falling of the tide which gave
to Pirate's Pocket its unsavory reputa
tion for uncanny things.
Grandfather bought the place of an
old creole and presented me with it on
my twenty-first birthday.
Immediately after that event, it being
tho latter end of October, we packed our
trunks and leaving New York went soutn
for this winter.
I found Infinite pleasure in all that
pertained to my southern home. The
salt sea breeze, the great expanse of blue
water, the impenetrable swamps, the
fragrant orange, and pine forests that
reached into interminable distances, all
lent a warmth and color to the scene
that stirred the romance deep within
me. That quickened every responsive
chord and set my being to music.
Near neighbor to us was an old gen
tleman by the name of Iia Mas, who
lived alone, his only relative a grandson
D'Triville, who wais at the time of our
arrival at Portersville, abroad, perfect
ing himself in architecture at the French
Academy of Art.
Monsieur I,a Mas, we were informed,
had, in liLs callow days, been engaged
in tho service of La Fltte, the gulf pirate
whose meteoric career along the coast
was still the theme of romantic story,
and I believed It true, for once he said
to my grandfather:
"Aye, but that devel-may-dare I-a
Fitte! What a nerve lie had! Why,
mar, I've seen him many a time fight
ing knee deep in human blood on deck.
Mon Uieu! With the hilt of hl« sowrd
crimson with stain.”
"And where in the devil were you 7“
asked my grandfather, “that you should
Know so well?”
"Oui, where?” evaded Monsieur La
Mas. “Was not Portersville and Ga
Batterio and Coque d'lnde a rendezvous
for his followers? Yes, 1 have seen the
man with my own eyes in hiding along
this shore. It was La Fitte who built
the Pocket.”
Drawing nearer to us ile continued in a
whisper:
“It is believed that he hid invaluable
treasure in tills locality, but though T
have spent the best years of my life
digging among the tumuli for it. I have
found nothing but a pot of Spanish
doubloons and a box of filigrees.”
Tills conversation took place in No
vember. At Christmas D’Triville re
turned from Paris.
*»*••••
One needs a hero for his dream world,
else the fancies there melt Into mist,
leaving not even the memory of ones
mood.
D'Triville La Mas was that hero. lie
spent the greater part of his time at
Pirate’s Pocket, rowing me on the
bayous or sailing me out to sea.
By sunllglit we penetrated the fragrant
depths of forest or lagoon: by moonlight
wo drifted on motionless streams, listen
ing to the mysterious music that thrilled
from cool depths beneath.
“Havo you ever been over to Dauphin’s
island and watched the Eye?” he asked
one day In tho spring.
I had not, so it was arranged that Mon-
sier La Mas, grandfather, he and my
self should go and spend the day, tak
ing our launch and return late In the
afternooi*
Who has not gathered his armsful of
ti-tl blossoms that fringe the salt sea,
or waded through peppery blossoms of
cayenne in search of marsh hens; who
has not listened to the music of love
from the soul of love, knows nothing of
tfce ecstacies of that day.
Toward the close of (lay, however, a
storm began to brew, and aided by the
wind and tide we set our sails homeward.
Throur*h gathering gloom we saw the
great eye of the pocket watching us with
what seemed menace. The great pon
derous lid moved slowiy upward and as
slowly fell.
"TtUere’s something fiendish about that
thing!” shouted grandfather above the
roar of the sea. “I believe it is the howl
of the devil!”
“They say hereabouts,” answered Mon
sieur EluMas as loudly, “that it is the
eye of tlie Pascagoula chief who was
murdered by the Spaniards.”
" ’They say,’ ” my grandfather began,
r Dut what lie sahl was lost in D'Triville’s
voice whlcji rose—
“It’s a wonderful piece of mechanism,
and I would give much to get at tile in
terior and learn its secret.’’
Wo were interrupted by a fierce gust
o' wind tiiat nearly capsized our boat.
In tlitvt moment as we dashed against
the preiiiplce of shell and sand I turned
to my companion a pair of startled eyes,
to meet a face as eager and white as I
felt my own to be.
“Did you see—?’’
“An entrance to the bank?” he ques
tioned.
“Yes, with a flight of steps leading up
ward?”
"I did.”
IV.
When the fury of the gale abated we
effected a landing. Our discovery was
at once made known to Monsieur LaMas
and my grandfather, who, having had
their backs to the shore, had not seen
the opening.
They decided that it would be well to
return to the place when the tide fell,
and equipping ourselves with lanterns and
wraps, we awaited with unresting minds
the hour that would open to us a mys
tery which was agreed bore upon the ey e
lu Pirate's pocket.
V.
"Hold! Steady! Now, give me your
hand.”
It was grandfather speaking. With
care he assisted me from the boat to
the landing that led up to a broad flat
stairway appaicntly melting into the
dark, ill-smeling earth.
Monsieur La Mas preceded us. D'Tri
ville remained to secure tho boat to a
huge steel ring that dangled from the
st^ne coping that boxed the entrance.
The steps led directly toward Pirate’s
Pocket. With tedious effort we climbed,
reaching at last a second landing that *
broke the ascent at a high elevation.
Here ft small door confronted us.
which upon opening disclosed a huge
machine of pistons, propcllors and
wheels. Two heavy stone weightts
dropped through the floor and we could
hear them swinging in the water that
rushed below. A chain of heavy wires
lay over the wall above and connected
with the eye as we afterwards learned.
From this apartment we went up an
other acclivity of steps, climbing higher
and higher, until suddenly the wall en
closed us, and without warning, we
‘found ourselves shut In a narrow’, foul
smelling cell, with no egress.
We were In a panic, but grandfather
bravely:
“We are trapped, by glory, and if we
cannot escape—”
"But we shall.” replied the hopeful
voice Of D’Triville. “There must be a
secret spring somewhere.”
I could see the white, anxious faces
of tho two older men showing above the
lantern light. r could see D'Triville
moving his fingers along the grim barri
cade with determined precision.
"Ah.” cried he presently, “I have
found it.” And so he had.
Pound a little spring that yielded to his
touch, swinging outward a panel of the
wail that seemed a shade lighter and
smoother than the rest.
We crowded through the opening, glad
of the torrent of fresh air that blew
through the prisons of glass forming the
eye, and wonderstruck at what our
eyes beheld.
Gold, heaps of gold, lay crowded into
great boxes of cedar. Inestimable jew
els lay flashing back to the gleam of
our lanterns, and over all the ponderous
lid of the great eye was drooping.
The wealth of Pirate's Pocket .was
valued at S5.CCO.OOO. Much of the
treasure could not be valued, so rare
and line was it.
Of course tho newspapers exploited
our find, and countless reporters and
lovers of the sensational came to see for
themselves what donderfui things we
had discovered.
What pleased me most, however, was
to hear grandfather say to Monsieur La
Mas, as I started north on my wedding
journey in the spring:
“I’ll be counfounded. old man, if any
one can say that D'Triville La Mas
married Miriam Stone for her money,
for by all that’s fair, lie asked me for
the girl over on Dauphin's island before
we found the opening to the eye.”
0—0—0—0?
*
House of a Thousand Caudles
* * * * By MEREDITH NICHOLSON, Author “&/>e Main Chance,” Etc
0—0 — 0—0^~-~ - ——— —
( 'opyright, 1905—The Bobbs-Mcrrill Co.
IIEN I reached the house I
found, to my astonishment,
tiiat the widow 1 had left
open as I scrambled out
the night before was
closed. I dropped my bag
and crept to the front door,
thinking tiiat If Bates had
discovered my aibsence it'
was useless to attempt any
further deception. I was
amazed to find tihe great
doors of the main entrance
flung wide, and in real
alarm I ran through the hall and back
to the library.
Tho nearest door stoop open, and, as I
peered in, a curious scene disclosed itself.
A few of the large cathedral candles still
burned brightly in several places, their
flame rising strangely In the gray morn
ing light. Books had been taken from
the shelves and scultered everywhere,
and sharp implements had cut ugly
gashes lu the shelving. The drawers con
taining sketches and ■p'nbTographs had
been pulled out and their contents thrown
about and trampled under foot.
The house was as silent as a tomb, but
as I stood on the threshold trying to real
ize what had happened, something stirred
by the fiseplace and I crept forward, lis
tening, until I stood by the long table
beneath the great chandelier. Again 1
heard a sound as of some animal waking
and stretching, followed by a moan that
was undoubtedly human. Then the hands
of a man clutched the farther edge of
the table, and slowly and evidently with
IhUnite difficulty a figure rose and tho
dark face of Bates, with eyes blurred and
staring strangely, confronted me.
Ho drew his body to its height and
leaned h«»nvily upon the table. I snatched
a candle and bent toward him to make
sure my eyes were not tric-king me.
'hlr. Glenarm! Mr. Glenarm!” he ex
claimed in broken whispers. “It Is Bates,
sir."
“Wihat have you done; wliat has hap
pened?” I demanded.
He put his hand to his head uncertain
ly and gaped as though trying to gather
his wits.
He was evidently dazed by whatever
had occurred, and I sprang around and
helped him to a couch. He would not
lie down, but sat up, staring and passing
his hand over bis head. It was rapidly
growing lighter, and I saw a purple and
black streak across his temple, where a
bludgeon of some sort had struck him.
"What does this mean, Bates? Who
has been Th the house?”
“I can’t tell you, Mr. Glenarm.”
“Can’t tell me! You will tell me or go
to jail! There's been mischief done here
and l don’t intend tt. have any nonsense
about it from you. Well—?”
He was clearly suffering, but in my
auger at the sight of the wreck of the
room I graspeo his shoulder and shook
hi in roughly.
“It was early this morning,” he fal
tered. "about 2 o’clock, I heard noises
in the lower part of the house. I came
down thinking likely it was you, and re
membering that you had been sick yester
day—”
“Yes, go on.’ !
The thought of my truancy was no
balm to my conscience just then.
“As 1 came into the hall, I saw lights
In the library. As you weren’t down last
night the room hadn’t been lighted at all.
I heard steps, and some on tapping with
a hammer—' ’
“Yes; a hammer. Go on!"
It was, then, the same old story! The
war had been carried openly Into the
'house, but Bates—just why should any
one connected with the conspiracy in
jure Bates, who stood so near to Pick
ering, its leader? The fellow was un
doubtedly hurt—there was no mistaking
the lump on his head. lie spoke with a
painful difficulty that was not assumed,
I felt increasingly stire, as be went on.
"I saw a man pulling out the books
and tapping the inside of the shelves.
He was working very fast. And the
next tiling I knew lie let in another man
through one of the terrace doors—the one
'there t'hat still stands a little open.”
He fiinened as he turned slightly- to in
dicate it, and his face twitched with pain.
"Never mind that; tell the rest of your
story.”
“Then I ran In, grabbed one of fhe big
candelabra from the table, and went for
'file nearest man. They were about to
‘begin on the chimney- breast there—it was
Mr. G'lenarm's pride in all the house—
and accounts for my being there in front
of tho fireplace. They rather got the
best of me, sir.”
“Clearly; I see they did. You had a
hand-to-hand light with them, and being
'two to one—’’
“No; there were two of us—don’t you
understand, two of us! There was an
other man who came running In from
somewhere, and he took sides with me.
I thought at first It was you. The rob
bers thought so, fhu, for one of them
yelled, ’Great God, it's Glenarm!' just
like that. But It wasn’t you, but quite
another person.”
"That's a good story so far; and then
what happened?”
“I don't remember much more, except
that some one soused me with water that
helped my head considerably, and the
next thing I knew I was staring across
the table there at you.”
“Who were these men. Bates? Speak
up quickly-!”
My- tone was peremptory. Here was, l
felt, a crucial moment in our relations.
“Well.” he began deliberately, "I dis
like to make charges against a fellow
man, but 1 strongly- suspect one of the
men being—’’
“Yes! Tell the whole truth or it will
be the worse for y-ou.“
“I very much fear one of them was
Ferguson, the gardener over the way.
I'm disappointed In film, sir.”
"Very good; ana now for the other
one.”
"I didn't get my eyes on him. 1 had
closed with Ferguson and we were having
quite a lively time of It when the other
one came in; then the man who came
to my heip mixed us all up—he was a
very lively person—and what became of
Ferguson and the rest of It I don’t know.”
There was food for thought in what he
said. He bad taken punishment in de
fense of my- property—t/he crack on his
head was undeniable— and I could not
abuse him or question his veracity with
any grace; not, at least, without time for
investigation and study. However, I ven
tured to ask him one question.
“If you were guessing, should'nt you
think it quite likely that Morgan was the
other man?”
He met my gaze squarely.
“I think It wholly possible, Mn Glen-
arm.”
"And the men wbo helped you—who In
the devil was he?”
"Bless me, I don't know. Ho disap
peared. I'd like mightily to see him
again.’’
"Humph! Now- you’d better do some
thing for your head. *']! summon tho
village doctor if you say so.”
“No, thank you, sir. I’ll take care of
it myself.”
“And now we'll keep quiet about this.
Don't mention it or discuss it with any
one.”
“Certainly not, sir.”
He rose, and staggered a little, but
crossed to the broad mantel-shelf in the
great chimney breast, rested his arm
upon it for a moment, passed his hand
over the dark wood with a sort of caress,
then bent his eyes upon the floor littered
with books and drawings and papers
torn from the cabinets and all splashed
with tallow and wax from the candles.
TIio daylight had increased until the
havoc wrought by the night's visitors
was fully apparent. The marauders had
made a sorry- mess of the room, and I
thought Bates' lip quivered as he saw
tile wreck.
“It would have been a blow to Mr.
Glenarm; the room was his pride—his
pride, sir.”
He went out toward the ktchen, and I
ran upstairs to my own room. I cursea
the folly that had led me to leave ray
window open, for undoubtedly Morgan
and Ills new- ally. St. Agatha’s gardener,
had taken advantage of it to enter the
house. Quite likely, too, they had ob
served my absence, and this would un
doubtedly be communicated to Pickering.
1 threw open my- door and started back
with an exclamation of amazement.
Standing at my chiffonier, between two
windows, was a man, clad in a bath
gown—my own. I saw with fury—Ills
back to me. the razor at ills face, plac
idly shaving himself.
Without turning he addressed me. quite
coolly and casually, as though his being
there was the most natural thing in the
world.
“Good morning, Mr. Glenarm! Rather
damaging evidence that costume. I sup
pose it’s the custom c.f the counttry for
gentlemen in evening clothes to go out
by the window and return by the door.
\»iu might think tho other way round
preferable.”
“Larry!” I shouted.
“Jack!”
“Kick that door shut and lock it,” he
commanded, in a sharp, severe tene that
I remembered well—and just now wel
comed—in him.
“How. why and when—?”
“Never mind about me. I'm here—
thrown the enemy off for a few days;
and you give me lessons in current his
tory first, while a climb into my armor.
Pray pardon the informality—’’
He seized a broom and began work
upon a pair of trousers to which mud
and briers clung tenaciously. His coat
and hat lay on a chair, they, too, much
the worse for rough wear.
There was never any use in refusing to
obey Larry’s orders, and as he got into
his clothes I gave him In as few words
as possible the chief incidents that had
marked my stay at Glenarm house. Ho
continued dressing with care, helping
himself to a shirt and collar from my
chiffonier and choosing with unfailing
eye fhe best tie in my collection. Now
and then he asked a question tersely, or,
again, he laughed or swore dlre!y in
Gaelic. When I had concluded the story
of Pickering’s visit and of the conver
sation I overheard between the executor
and Bates in the church porch, aLrry
wheeled round with the scarf half-tied
in his fingers and surveyed me commi3-
eratingly.
“And you didn’t rush them both on
the spot and have it out?”
“No. I was too much taken aback,
for one thing—”
“I dare say you were!”
“And for another I didn’t think the
time ripe. I'm going to boat that fel
low. Larry, but I want him to show his
hand fully before we come to a smash-
up. I know as much about the house
and its secrets as he does—that’s one
consolation. Sometimes I don't believe
there's a shilling here and again I'm sure
there's a big stake in it. The fact that
Pickering is risking so much to find
what's supposed to be hidden here is
pretty fair evidence that something's
buried on the place.”
"Possibly, but they’re giving you a
lively boycott. Now where in the devi!
have you been?’’
"Well,—“ I began and hesitated. I had
not mentioned Marian Devereux and this
did not seem the time for confidences
of that sort.
He took a cigarette from his pocket
aand lighted it.
"Bah, these women! LTnder the terms
of your revered grandfather's will you
have thrown away ail your rights. It
looks to me, as a member of the Irish
bar in bad standing, as the ugh you had
delivered yourself up to the enemy, so
far as the legal situation is concerned.
How does It strike you?”
"Of course I’ve forfeited my rights.
But I don’t mean that any one shall
know it yet a while.”
"My lad, don’t deceive yourse!f. Every
body round here will know it before
night. You ran off, left your window
open invitingly, and two gentlemen who
meditated breaking in found that they
needn't take the trouble, one came in
through your own room. noting, c.f
course, your absence, let in his friend
below, and tore up the place regretta
bly.”
“Yes, but how did you get here?—if
you don't mind telling.”
"It's a short story. That litt!e chap
from Scotland Yard, who annoyed me
so much in New York and drove me to
Mexico—for which may he dwell for ever
in fiery torment—has never given up.
I shook him off. though, at Indianapo
lis three days ago. I bought a ticket for
Pittsburg with hint at my elbow. I sup
pose he thought the chase was growing
tame, and that the farther east he could
arrest me the nearer I should be to a
British consul and tidewater. I went
ahead of him into the station and out
to the Pittsburg sleeper. I dropped my
bag into my section—if that’s what they
call it in your atrocious American lan
guage—looked out and saw him coming
along the platform. Just then the car
began to move—they were shunting it
about to attach a sleeper that had been
brought in from Louisville, and my car
riage. or whatever you call it, went
skimming out of the sheds into a yard
where everything seemed to be most noisy
and complex. I dropped off in the dark
just befor 0 they ‘began to haul tiie car
riage back. A long train of empty goods
wagons was just pulling out and I threw
my bag Into a wagon and climbed after
it. e kept going for an hour or so
until I was thoroughly lost, then I took
advantage of a stop at a place that
seemed to he the end of terrestrial tilings,
got out and started across country. I
expressed my bag to you the other day
frotn a town that rejoiced in the cheer
ing name of Kokomo, just to get rid
of it. I walked into Annnndale about
midnight, found this medieval marvel
through the kindness of the station-mas
ter and was geconnolterinij with my
usual caution when I saw a gentleman
romantically entering through an open
window.”
Larry paused to light a fresh cigar
ette.
“You always did have a way of arriv
ing opportunely. Go on!”
“It pleased my fancy to follow him;
and by the time I had studied your dig
gings here a trifle, tilings began to
happen below. It sounded like a St.
Patrick’s Day celebration in an Irish
village, and I went down at a gallop to
see if there was any chance of breaking
in. Have you seen the room? Well,”—
he gave several turns to his right wrist,
as though to test it—“we ail had a
jolly time there by the fireplace. An
other chap had got in somewhere, so
there were two of them. Y’our man—I
suppose it’s your man—was defending
himself gallantly with a large thing of
brass that looked like the pipes of a
grand organ—and I sailed in with a
chair. My presence seemed to surprise
the attacking party, who evidently
thought I was you—flattering, I must
say, to me!”
“You undoubtedly saved Bates’ life and
prevented the rifling of the house. And
alter you had poured water on Bates—
lie's the servant—you came up here—”
"That's the way of it.”
“You’re a brick. Larry Donovan.
There’s only one of you; and now—’’
“And now, John Glenarm, we'v e got
to get down to business—or you must.
As for me, after a few hours of your
enlivening society—”
"You don't go a step until we go to
gether—no. by the beard of the pliophet!
I've a fight on her e and I'm going to
win if I die in the struggle, and you’ve
got to stay with me to the end.”
"But tinder the will you dare not take
a boarder.”
“Of course, I dare! That will's as
0—0—0—0
though it had never been as far as I'm
concerned. My gradfather never expect
ed me to sit here alone and be murdered.
John Marshall Glenarm wasn't a fool ex
actly !’’
“No, but a trifle queer, I should say.
I don't have to tell you, old man, that
this situation appeals to me. It's my
kind of a job. If it weren't that the
hounds are at my heels I'd like to stay
with you, but you have enough trouble
on hands without opening the house to
an attack iby my enemies.”
“Stop talking about it. I don't propose
to be deserted by the the only friend I
have in the world when I'm up to my
eyes in trouble. Let's go down and get
some coffee.”
W e found Bates trying to remove the
evidences of the night's struggle. He
had fastened a cold pack about his head
and limped slightly; otherwise he was
the same—silent and inexplicable.
Daylight had not improved the appear
ance of the room. Several hundred
books lay scattered over the floor, and
the shelves which had held them were
hacked and broken.
“Bates, if you can give us some cof
fee—? Let the room go for the present.”
“Y’es, sir.”
And Bates—”
He paused and Larry's keen eyes were
bent sharply upon him.
“Mr. Donovan is a friend who will be
with me for some time. We'll fix up
his room later in the day.”
He limped out, Larry's eyes following
him.
“What do you think of that fellow?”
I asked.
Larry's face wore a puzzled look.
“What do you call hint—Bates? He’s
a plucky fellow.”
Larry picked up from the hearth the
big candelabrum with which Bates had
defended himself. It was badly bent and
twisted, and Larry grinned.
“The fellow who went out through the
front door probably Isn’t feeling very
well today. Your man was swinging this
thing like a windmill.”
"I can’t understand it,” I muttered.
"I can’t, for the life of me, see why he
should have given battle to the enemy.
They all belong to Pickering, and Bates
is the biggest rascal of the bunch.”
"Humph! well consider that later.
And would you mind telling me what
kind of a tallow foundry this is? I
never saw so many candlesticks in my
life. I seem to taste tallow. I had no
letters from you, and I supposed you
were loafing quietly In a grim farm
house, dying of ennui, and here you are
in an establishment that ought to be the
imperial residence of an Eskimo chief.
Possibly you have crude petroleum for
soup Jtitd whipped salad-oil for desert. I
declare, a man living here ought to at
tain a high candle-power of luminosity.
It’s perfectly immense.” He stared
and laughed. “And hidden treasure,
and night attacks, and young virgins
in the middle distance—yes, I’d really
like to stay a while."
As we ate breakfast I filled in gaps I
had left in my hurried narrative, with
telief that I cannot describe filling my
heart as I leaned again upon the sym
pathy of an old and trusted friend.
As Bates came and went I marked
Continued on Fourth Page.