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March 4, 1915
£
P in the doctor’s quarters nerves were
on a tension. Dr. Harvey was work
ing with plaster and bandages as fast
as accuracy would allow, and Sam
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Bartlett as spokesman was telling the Captain
how he had gotten the fact from Gonzales on
the second night out while the Spaniard was
under the influence of “too much toddy,” as
Bartlett expressed it, that he was in some way
connected with or knew the trained nurse and
her charge in number twenty. “An’ all the
time,” said Bartlett excitedly, “I was tryin’
my dead level best to think where I’d seen the
black-eyed scoundrel before, when all at once
he spoke about Cuba, an’ his leavin’ there dur
in’ the war and cornin’ over on an important
mission, lookin’ fer a heiress, and quick as a
flash it comes to me, and I risked my judg
ment and lookin’ him straight in his eyes I
said, says I, ‘Why ain’t you goin’ back as
Father McCrary? How come you changin’
yer name and workin’ back like this.’ I knew
no priest ever wanted fer money.
“He turned red, white and blue all in a min
ute and started ter deny it, then changed his
mind an’ asked me where I’d seen him before,
an’ how I knew him? I jes reminded him o’
how seasick he got on that trip an’ who it
was helped—”
“Bartlett, it strikes me we are losing time
on this part of the details,” said Captain Nel
son with quiet dignity and a tinge of impa
tience, “I know he is crooked, but what do
you know of his connection with this trouble?”
“That’s jes what I was gettin’ to,” said
Bartlett, somewhat chagrined, “but I wanted
you to know thet he ain’t what he pertends,
an’ I fer one believe Warren’s story erbout
him stealin’ his girl an’ I know thet’s her in
twenty, ’cause thet’s where the invalid is thet
he went on to explain erbout when I question
ed him so close. Then he went on ter say thet
he was bein’ self-sacraficin’ crnough ter lay
down his work so’s to help her get her money.
But the wfliole truth is he’s figgerin’ on gettin’
her and the money both into his han’s an’
he’s keepin’ thet pore girl doped through thet
nurse thet’s done somethin’, thet he’s makin’
her believe she’s doin’ penunce for an’ thet
it’s right fer her ter help get this money fer
the ‘church.’ Pore girl, she’s got er awful
sad face herself.”
“Tell me the whole affair as quickly as pos
sible,” said Capt. Nelson in the tone of author
ity that he knew would shorten Bartlett’s
story and boil it down to where he could be
gin to see the real reason for Gonzales’ action,
and reach a decision as to the truth of all this,
also that they might investigate before they
reached Havana.
Bartlett was not slow to get Capt. Nelson’s
meaning and hurried on to tell him Gonzales’
version of the matter, the key to which was
given away unintentionally, and then Warren’s
as well, adding emphatically that he’d “like
ter see thet low-lived Spaniard hypocrit swing
in’ from a yard arm.”
By the time Bartlett had finished his story,
Dr. Harvey, with the aid of an assistant, was
completing the plaster of Paris jacket in which
it was necessary to encase Warren’s leg, and
although the plucky Englishman was beginning
CHAPTER VII.
THE UNEXPECTED
THE GOLDEN AGE
By Marie Louise Montague.
to suffer intensely, he urged them to leave
him in care of the ship’s nurse and go imme
diately to where he was now fully convinced
his noble sweetheart was being held, either an
unconscious or an unwilling prisoner, more
probably the first, her system being ruined by
the opiates.
“For God’s sake, Doctor,” he begged, “get
the truth from that nurse and bring Lucy to
me if she’s able to be brought, and Captain
Nelson, that man’s a .demon unhung; don’t let
him anywhere near her; send somebody for
him and lock him up—and Doctor, watch that
nurse, won’t you,” he pleaded. “If they’ll do
what they have, they’d do anything else be
fore they’d be caught, and remember I’m
suffering a thousand torments of anxiety ’till
I hear from you,” he added, as they started
eagerly out on their two-fold mission of rescu
ing the suffering and ultimately to mete out
an adequate punishment for so vile a crime as
had been planned and so much of it carried
out right under their unsuspecting eyes.
It was a miserable man they left bound down
beneath those coverings by his recent wound.
His brain was a veritable battleground of con
flicting imaginations and emotions that tore at
his heart-strings with the cruel force of ene
mies in a hand-to-hand combat, as he strove
to control the awful fears that arose concern
ing Lucy, but he was hardly less miserable
just then than the little French nurse, who had
received written orders from her “master” to
prepare her patient to be slipped out of the
window of her state-room entirely unconscious,
and also that she must send for Miss Mainard
ostensibly to soothe the invalid to sleep, and
once in the state-room she too, must feel the
prick of that slender hypodermic needle.
“And remember,” added this, nothing less
than fiend incarnate, “if you fail, your past
goes to your family and you see your child
no more; but if,you are successful you will
receive a sufficient amount of money to have
your soul liberated. Your patients will revive
in the convent, none the worse for their sleep
after a day of your careful nursing—l shall
expect you to be ready just after we cast an
chor, which must not be more than two hours
now. There is great need for this, and the
fast gathering clouds will make our work far
easier—under no circumstances fail —I will ex
plain later. ‘Father.’ ”
The girl was declaring to herself she would
not obey him; her heart was sick and rebel
lious over the falsehoods with which she had
been forced to soothe Lucy, and remorse was
beginning to sit darkly by her side. Somehow,
she was getting suspicious in spite of herself, of
this strange priest. “And now he demands
more,” she cried. “I can’t —T won’t —I’ll call
for help—but, oh! my child —” and she sank
down in a heap. “But then,” she added, in
an effort to ease her conscience, “they will
have the blessing of the priest and the church.”
Thus she rambled on, as she got things into
her little suit case, working out the man’s
instructions as though hypnotized —the note to
Maybeth had already been written. There was
nothing to do but go on. Instinctively her hand
sought the cross at her throat and she mur-
mured: “Mary, Mother of Jesus, help”—she
would not give it just yet, she would at least
wait until pretty Miss Mainard came; she
wouldn’t understand, and so, poor deluded
Marie Le Crew was struggling in the darkness
of ignorance under the power of a demon, as
many another poor soul whose feet were fast
in the toils of the evil one, has struggled to
free itself from the power and consequences
of one sin by committing still further sin.
# * * * # *
Maybeth, completely put at ease by Syd
ney’s tactics during these days on board, was
taken entirely by surprise when he came up
to where she and Rufo were lingering on deck,
entertaining themselves by creating cloud pic
tures as the wind flirted with the constantly
darkening, thickening mass of vapor, scatter
ing it at will into patches through which the
moon beamed cheerfully, then gathering them
up again, only to pile them into great, porten
tious mountain heaps against the horizon that
seemed to be speeding nearer and nearer to
them.
The breeze was getting stiff and most of
the passengers had gone either to their state
rooms or gathered about the piano in the sa
loon, or more perhaps were still dancing in the
ballroom. Only here and there a few, attract
ed either by Rufo’s violin, or as Maybeth had
been, by the ‘study in clouds,’ remained to
keep them company. Even Hinton, suffering
from a headache, had said good-night, and
Maybeth felt a strange, uneasy foreboding
when she saw Sydney search her out on deck
and coming up, he told Rufo, with all kindness
of course, that he wanted to talk to Miss Mai
nard and would appreciate his leaving them
alone a few minutes. Dropping a coin in his
hand, he added, “Buy your birds a feast with
that, my boy, and thanks to you for yielding
your good ‘Star’ to me for just a little while.
I shan’t keep her up much longer, I assure you>
for it is time all on board were asleep.”
No sooner had Rufo turned his back than
Sydney dropped down into his place with an
air of confidence and possession, so like the
old school-boy freedom that it frightened May
beth and at the same time put her on her
guard as to the nature of the conference he
sought and instinctively she drew away from
him, remembering quite well their last unpleas
ant effort at an understanding. She thought
he was about to make an effort to take her
] ian d—but evidently thinking better of it he
rested it on the back of her chair instead and
turned facing her. The girl was startled by
the tense expression she saw in his eyes as he
looked at her and a swift wish that Earl was
in reach flashed through her mind.
“Maybeth,” he began, “I am sure you have
seen since we began this trip that I was try
ing to forget the long sweet day of childhood’s
companionship —the dream that it brought, the
air castles it caused to be built—the hopes it
implanted —but it’s no use —I can’t—and to
night I have come once more to plead in all
sincerity for your love —in your hands lies the
answer as to whether I am to nurture all the
best that is in me or yield myself to the rule
of all the evil that is clamoring for the mas
tery. Which shall it be?”
(To be Continued.)
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