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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 V 7 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.) 3