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HER FATHER'S !DGL>
A ROMANTIC SENSATIONAL STORY.
BY MRS. BASELEY (“Mignon"),
Author ct “Gilbert Elton's Wife,” "The Tragedy at Deepdene,” Eic., Etc
COPYRIGHTED, 1893, HY TILLOTSON & SON.
CHARTER XXXII.
“Miss Henetook; O, there's some
strange old country-woman been asking
for her. Miss Minehin. I did not know
which room to ask the funny looking
creature into. She'd been smoking a
pipe like a gipsy, and only jiopped it away
when Betsy answered the door: but as
Mrs. Bailey was busy over the dinner I
showed her into the dining room. The
soup and fish have jus tgone
into the dining room and they
looked beautiful, miss. My lady says as
how we are to let the two ladies—you
and Miss Henstock—be served in your
room with every think just as it comes
out. She does look grand and proud. O,
this is a glorious day for Briarwood. \\[o
shall have a full establishment, and gay
—well , I never, if she ain't gone'’—turn
ing and finding the corridor empty—
“ Well! 1 never: them companions is
never grateful. Half and half ladies
like! Perhaps now as they won’t be
wanted here no longer they may De glad
to become housemaid like mes,”
Meanwhile Olga, her heart full of unde*
fined dread and fear, was flying to the
cook-housekt-eper’s room. The servant’s
communication had frightened her. She
did not suppose for a minute that Mark
either could or would be there, but he
might have engaged someone to injure his
hated dupe. Nelly even possibly was
safe, but something in Olga’s heart told
her that she was in danger, and she sped
on with all tier might. There was a re
freshing fragrance of dinner pervading
the hull. Voices in conversation -so new
a sound in that silent mansion—even
reached her. Olga knew %hat taingley
was there, because he had seen Ntjlly be
fore he sat down in the drawing-room,
and arranged to carry her off as at first
planned in the morning, by a train soon
after seven. Nelly had gone straight from
him to the baroness, to return five and four
lienee over and above her salary, which
she had received and declined to take.
Beyond that Olga was unaware of Nelly's
proceeding. The fact was Nelly had bor
rowed a needle and cotton to mend a rent
1n her dress —it was a good dress, and she
had accidentally caught it on a nail in
the door. It was nearly mended when the
housemaid appeared and told her “Such a
funnv-looking old creature wanted to see
her—she thought it must be to tell her
fortune.” Nelly's fortune was no tempta
tion to her. She knew enough of it. Un
fortunately, however, the housemaid's
foolish supposition entirely misled Nelly.
It put her on the wrong seeut altogether.
But for it she might have suspected dan
ger, despite her trust ing and unsuspicious
nature.
“I am not a believer in fortune telling.
Perhaps she wants money. I may help
her."
All innocently she went. The first feel
ing of fear rose in her heart as she en
tered Mrs. Bailey's room. It was caused
by her strange visitor closing the door be
hind her, and Humbling for the lock. The
key was not in it.
“Wnat are you doing?” exclaimed Nelly,
hurriedly. “I am not going to stay I”
“You don’t leave me just yet, Miss
Henstock '
The words were given in a disgusted,
muffled tone. She did not recognize them
for Mark’s,but her heart beat unpleas
antly fast and she wished, oh, so fer
vently, that she had not ventured alone.
She lpoked towards the hell; could she
reach it if she wanted! Then she blamed
herself for her fears, and thought how
foolish she would look if she did sum
mon someone. and her visitor was but a
harmless one.
“They told me a gipsy desired to tell
my fortune,” she said, summoning a little
courage.
But the person before her had not any
appearance of the gipsy, -lust an ordi
nary country attired woman, very scant
iu the skirts, and with a huge poke bon
net, and a face much muffled, scarcely to
fe seen under it. It -was the disguise
that partly frightened Nelly. Why was
the face hidden ! Then the strides the
creature took as with a strange Ha, ha!
iu harsh laughter, she approached,
alarmed Nelly again.
“I will tell you your fortune in a few
words, my pretty girl.” fawned she.
Give me your hand! Ah!” with a clutch,
as she pretended to read the lines, “a dis
obedient daughter, a false, unloved wife!
treacherous! deceitful! cowardly! born
to betray! Escaped! fed in the house of
the traitor but for a time; doomed to a
violent end. I—ah, you would evade me
now! No, no— the bell! ah, it's too late!
I—Mark —am here! the avenger!”
He pulled off his huge bonnet with One
hand, tore the muffler from off his face,
whilst with the other he prevented her
frantic attempts to escape. His voice had
assumed its rightful tone. He intended
her to know him as he was—villainous
husband, traitor, murderer!
“You see me, lovely Nelly!” he scoffed,
an insane fire in his eyes; you——
She had been using suiiernatural
strength to free herself. She was wild
strong in her terror -and to save him. she
had, oy extreme force of will, prevented
herself from screaming. Her one thought
iu her supreme danger was to escape with
out inculpating him. She had no time to
plead—warn—caution; there was murder,
fierce determination, iu his eye!
“You dare to think you can escape!”
he cried, fiercely, as he panted in the
struggle. “No! 1 have sworn to kill you;
your death means too much for me to
forego the pleasure of it!” He seized her
by the throat—one loud shriek broke
from her—he clutched her more securely,
and forced her down. She was power
less now—choking—a minute and his foul
act would tie perpetrated. She must be
dead. In that one minute the door was
flung open, and Olga, breathless but en
ergetic. active, raced in. Half a second
and from the utter stillness she thought
the room was empty. So swift is sight—
thought—that the idea was scarcely born
ere her eyes caught a glimpse of Mark
kneeling ou the chest of his victim in one
corner. Without one thought to her own
danger—she was ever fearless—Olga was
al him v it,h the spring of a panther.
“Fiend!” she hissed, as taken una
wares. his hold relaxed and he fell over.
“1 might have known. 1 hope 1 am not
too late—l have you now. 1 will summon
the household, and you shall be trapped
as you deserve. You have just ’’
It was her last word. His position was
desperate, hopeless. Without giving a
thought again to Nelly, or pausing to
save Olga whom he really liked with as
greata liking as oneof hisealiber wascapa
ble of entertaining, he dealt her a fearful
blow, and sent her spinning She reeled
end fell down senseless. Footsteps were
heard hastily approaching. Stooping to
pick up his bonnet, he flew to tho wln-
dow. threw it wide open, closed it behind
him, aue bolted, leaving the two girls
each unconscious behind him.
* * * * * * *
The baroness, in all the splendor of
her regained position, sat at the foot of
the table, IxjrU Lane -but feebly reflect
ing her pride—facing her at the head of
his dinner board. Delicate, weak, looked
he. But as the meal proceeded and wine
was dispensed, he grew brighter. He
was keenly interested in the subject of
the approaching trial. Outwardly Mil
ner Cheetham, who had been dispatched
over from Coxmoor by Mrs. Charlie Gun
ton, betrayed more excitement.
‘‘l tell you Charlie never for one mo
ment credited that Mark Boyd was de
liberately culpable till this morning. It
was this way—l'll explain—but, Roy, you
might have known lie would not other
wise have acted as he did—he and
Maisie—good heavens! what a fearful
scream 1”
“It was Nelly!” exclaimed Langley,
jumping up, - Miss Henstock” recol
lecting himself: “where ”
“Pray be seated, Mr. Bruce,” remarked
the baroness, stiffly; “the servants will
attend to ”
“Pardon me. Lady Grey,” he said, hur
riedly, “but I think we ought to investi
gate into this.”
“Gauche! ill-bred!’’ muttered the baro
ness underlie* breath.
But the four gentlemen -I-ord Lane,
Roy, Milner Cheetham, and Langley
had all risen, the former rather reluct
antly, and stood vaguely regarding each
other. Langley, quicker than the rest,
strode to the door, and saw a housemaid
hurrying along.
“It will be Miss Henstock,” she said,
stopping momentarily in obedience to
Langley’s questioning. “A shabby woman
wanted her. and she ”
“Where, where!” demanaed Langley,
hurriedly.
•‘ln Mrs. Bailey's room. I am go
ing ”
“Come, gentlemen,” called Langley, as
he hastened after Sarah’s fleet footsteps.
The scene that met all eyes as they en
tered Mrs. Bailey's room was a striking
ono—such as should remain on more than
one memory as long as life should last.
Nelly was black in the free, but with air
and restoratives, began slowly to come
round. A doctor had to be summoned to
Olga.
Leaving the care of the two girls to the
baroness, Roy and Langley hurried out on
a survey. Milner Cheetham overtook
and joined them.
“A strange country-woman” was all the
clue they possessed to the wholly unac
countable mystery.
Meanwhile Mark had regained his cab.
“Lend me your overcoat, and let me
mount the box beside .you,” he cried, hur
riedly. “Drive to the nearest station;
stay, let’s see, it is not seven yet ; 1 may
eatoh the up train. Hurry when we
once start —unless; now. mind my words,
if any pursuers come, then go slowly!”
He was sliding his disguises off as he
spoke; he would have performed that
ceremony speedier on the ground; he
kept catching his foot in the skirt, and,
finally, tore it down, but it had caused
delay.
“Now start!” he exclaimed, putting on
black whiskers and a cap. “I’ll evade
them all yet. I—hark! What the deuce
is that? We’re followed. Ha, ha!”
fiercely, “but I'm not caught. Drive
slowly, Jehu! Win your five pounds!”
“Stop, stop!” yelled a voice behind
them, persistently. “Hi, hi! stop!”
“For heaven's sake pull up,” said Mark.
“To continue on our way would only
rouse suspicion!”
“Come on, gents, if yer wornts a
drive!” shouted our cabby, amiably. “Ise
got rume lor four on yer. A florin a piece
to Moutford. It’s a gude moile on from
here, and my 'oss is tired.”
• •We don ’ t want your cab.’ ’retorted Roy,
breathlessly, as he hurried up, “and we
would not givo above a florin for ail of us
if we did. Have you an old country
woman with a jxike bonnet with you!”
peering into the inside of the vehicle; “we
are ”
“Had she a black shawl and scanty
skirt!” broke in Mark in disguised tones.
He knew Roy again well, though his
bosom friend, had he possessed one,
would never have recognized him.
“Yes, yes! where ”
“We passed her going in the contrary,
direction, sir.” said Mark. “Has she<
done anything wrong?”
“Wrong!” burst in Langley, who had
now overtaken the party; “if to kill two
innocent girls is not wrong?” and he
broke down with emotion.
“Killed two girls! oh, sir, if we had
only known,” said Mark, still skillfully
managing his voice, “we might have stop
ped her. We thought she had been up to
no good, did not we, Higgins!”
“Thot us did,” acquiesced cabby, amia
bly falling in with his new cognomen and
Mark's subterfuge. “I wish we lied hed
time to hev toorned and helped you. sirs,
hut we shall hev lioory oop or we shan't
ketch our train, this ‘oss tired out beside.”
“We took them in capitally,” laughed
Mark, as, his station reached, he paid tho
promised fare. His train too was in. He
liad just time to take his seat.
“Who says that tho wicked don't pros
per?” he eried, exultantly to himself, as
they steamed out of Montford. “1 only
hope Mrs. Boyd is extinct—non est—they
said two innocent girls were killed! Ha,
ha! Poor Olga! I would not have touch
ed you if you had kept from interfering.
1 liked you, my lass; you had fire, spirit,
and if ” bump, bump—“what was
that! I——”
He might well ask! Quicker than pen
could write or tongue express he was
bounced bodily up to the ceiling and re
bounded back; a crashing and a break
age went on which he seemed but part
aiid parcel of. There was a hideous con
tortion of wood and human machinery,
and grinding aud collapse. The compart
ment which scarce five minutes previous
ly he had entered whole and substantial,
himself sound and health,v, was one chaos
of fragments—a ruin in heaps. He an ill
distinguishable mass. Such is the pros
perity of the wicked! So ends the exul
tation of the villain.
Around were the dead aud the dying
groans and silence intermingled in ominue
mixture. The (foods train to Montford
had crashed into the express from there,
and great was the dis ster. Many were
the homes rendered desolate by the care
lessness -or might’it not be overwork—
of the one signal man—a desolation that
for at least-the period of one generation
could not wholly pass away.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Back in Dr. Boyd’s surgery once more.
Master Pimple, outgrown all recognition,
-taller ami lankier more shapeless than
he liud ever given promise of. was lording
it over the now errand boy. All abnor
mally iagre confluence in himself anil his
appearance had Master—or, us ho chose
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY SEI’TEMBER 17, 1593.
to be called—Mr Pimple He was the
terror of all the errand boys, but had
hitherto remained the subjective slave of
his master whom privately he greatly
despised but whose yoke lie was pre
pared tothrw off that day Incipient
ri ellion against Ihv Boyd s eontred had
inward! consumed him ever since Mark's
es aijades had become public pr|*erty in
Nlaokaby. but waiting fuller confirniu
tioji as to the whole extent of Mark’s vil
lainy, lie had waited patiently for the fin
al denouncement as became his inferior |xi
sition A < lear and conclusive proof was
now his, and he was consequently elated
proportionately. In the exuberance of his
spirits he bad stuck a pin into the un
fortunate errand boy's leg. pulled his
ears till his arms ached, and as the
wounded urchin retaliated by a scream
and a kick, pushed him down the step
out into the street, shut the door on him,
returned to the surgery and sat down to
think.
“I'll chuck off old Bantam's chains and
have a different time of it here till my
apprenticeship is up.” deliberated Mr.
Pimple, complacently stroking the in
cipient down on his upper lip. “Let him
come any of his dodges again with me,
and 1 will show him what for’ pretty
quick- that is, if I condescend to stay at
all. But the place has got hot seeing
what respect Slackaby is beginning, to
hold him and his in it! This last dis
covery will make it hotter than ever, and
I hope they will just give it ‘Little Strut
ter.' I’ve been longing for sugh a climax
as this to come. When lie's pelted with
mud won’t I hurl him ta< softest puddle!”
In his excitement at the treat in
store Mr, Pimple jumped down—not that
he trad far to go, his long legs dangled to
within a foot of the ground —and rubbed
his hands gleefully together.
“I never was an admirer of that pretty
little Henstock,” proceeded the young
gentleman, patronizingly; “but it's been
an out and out shame the way she's been
treated. That father ol'hers [is not such
a duffer after all. Some think as he'll
oust Bantam from here. I hope he will.
Mother says I must keep respectful to
Henstock in case of a change. But, oh,
my?” smacking his lips, “it won’t be so
very long now before I shall come out a
full fledged M. D., and won't 1 come it
grand. A few years are nothing. Per
haps Myra Allen will alter her tone then,
and be to look at me instead of
snivelling after Job Wynne. Those Clark
son girls, Bertha and Lotty, will be
grown up,too,about the time I am ready to
settle down. I may think of one of them In
return for the many jokes they’ve played
off on me. 1 shall in: heaps a more re
spectable match than those wandering
Jews, Bertie Fell and Mr. Clarke, who
are said to be starring it in Australia
starving it more likely. I’ve no opinion
of colonists. If Charlie Lundie is a curate
what then! Poor poverty-striken beggars
who never pay their doctor's fees; bah!
that for them!” making his fingers rat
tle like bones, “they, ugh! He’s coming
at last.”
Considering all his mighty resolves,
Mr. Pimple’s attitude betrayed none of
the self-possession that might naturally
have been expected under the circum
stances.
He looked about flurriedly; seized on
the pestle and mortar and began pound
ing away vigorously at it.
The door was flung open noisily; Dr.
Boyd, very aged and careworn looking,
yet with the air of a potential ba
shaw—the very bantam he was called—
entered.
“He's in a deuce of a temper, as 1 an
ticipated,” soliloquized Mr. Pimple,
, rather nervously, as he took a surrepti
tious glance. “I wonder how he’ll com
mence!”
Dr. Boyd commenced in rather a singu
lar way. Happening to come in contact
with some white sheets of paper on the
counter, he tossed them angrily before
him. The sheets scattered and fluttered
iu a way that delighted Mr. Pimple’s
heart, all over the floor. He’d make the
wretched errand boy pick every one of
them up. Dr. Boyd’s second proceeding
was not calculated to confer quite as
much pleasure on the worthy (?) Pimple
heart, inasmuch as it was an indignant
kick administered to his own dear person.
Scowling, he turned and demanded sul
lenly—
“ What d’ye mean by that?”
“I’ll tell you what I mean! retorted
Alfred Boyd, fiercely, as he repeated the
offense several times, “you can take your
dismissal. Master Pimple. Next time you
mix drugs let it be where you can’t over
dose an unfortunate baby. You've killed
Isaac Whittle’s child, and there'll be the
deuce to^iay.”
Pimple’s eyes were starting out of his
head. Dismissal in prospect at his own
pleasure was a very different affair to
dismissal in really at the whim of an
other. Mr. Pimple’s blight visions of
future splendor would be totally eclipsed
it he were started off in disgrace. Be
sides this, he was not guilty of overdos
ing Isaac Whittle’s baby. Dr. Boyd had
compounded the pills himself. He knew
this. Moreover, he was aware Dr. Boyd
knew it, yet with all his vaunted bragga
docio he dared not lift his voice to say so,
but stood a creature, trembling and dis
mayed before his tyrant of a master.
“ You think because I'm left alone, all
my family gone, and Slackaby down on
me, that you, you’ll help me down farther,
but I’ll let you see!”
“You've heard the news, then?” stam
mered Pimple. dejectedly. “You've read
the paper and seen what’s up at Ivan
lioe?”
Dr. Boyd turned round so sharply that
Pini|>lfi nearly fell over m fright.
“Read my paper! What do you mean
to insinuate? Ah! I have just been glo
rying over that Polowskiti or Votoski
ease. She’s found and stabbed to the
heart—serve her right, too. One of the
most subtlo schemes of the age. For
years czar and government have been of
fering large rewards for her apprehen
sion, and one of her own countrymen,
Inchakoff, alias Minchakoff, lias put for
ward his claim. Funny thing! She’s
not a big boned masculine woman, but a
small, dainty creature, long curls and
quaint iu attire both soaked through
and through in blood. I suppose it was
her childish appearance that let her go
on so long undetected. She—but, bless
my soul,what business is this of all yours.
You said something about Ivanhoe; don’t
speak to me of Ivanhoe a*d its pol
luted inmates. If that Henstock had kept
his daughter properly within bounds 1
should have been at peace to-day. Only
let her attempt to come near Slackaby
whilst 1--1 breathe I what do you say?”
He had been strutting about the sur
gery, hands in his pockets, but stopped
abruptly as Pimple observed—
" Mrs. Mark Boyd has returned home
this morning, sir. aud they say”—dodging
about to keep a respectful distance from
liis irate master—“she has brought her
marriage certificate with her. Buckets
of tears she and Dr. Henstock have shed
over each other, and Henstock. tho
tale goes, was nearly as much overcome.
Mrs. Mark is not at all well. Mr. Mark
nqarlv succeeded in Strangling her a night
or two ago: ho ”
“How dare you venture to call Miss
Henstock by my son’s name!" roared the
doctor, darting hither and thither after
his unqualified assistant, "Mark isgoing
td marry a very wealthy young l oly next
Tuesday. lie will never raise his eyes to
the side of the road that bold liussv. Nelly
Henstock
"Or Leah Dawson!” ifiterprjsed Pimple,
who had recovered his self-assurance by
now. and resolved if he had to leave, to
administer a little of the sauce which in
prospective had segmed so alluring, before
lie went.
Dr Boyd paused In amazement. Pirn
pic's new tone brought him to order.
Ther" must be something very great come
out to cause so great a change in Pimple's
demeanor.
“Yolmg men will lie young men,” he
observed, forbo.iriiigly “Mr. Mark has
sow n his w ild oats, and is going to become
a virtuous reape. table member of society.
His a: image in high life will ”
“'S ou have not h.-ard 1 Thought you
coulff not have read the pajx-rs thor
oughly!” declared Pimple, triumphantly.
“Mark Bovd ia ’
“Mr. Mark. Pimple!"
“Mark Boyd is wanted for a case of
murder It's all in this morning’s
‘Rlankshire News, such a thrilling ac
count. He—Lawks what's the matter,
sir
Pimple's air changed completely to one
of commiseration
“Hold me. hold me. I shall fall. I—but
it is all tales. Pimple; slander, envy! I
—you. no. don't go!
“I w as off to fetch mother's papers, sir.”
“I don’t want to read it. O. Mark, my
boy my boy: you'll be the end of me;
you but he is maliciously accused, Pim
ple. He—where are yougoing?”
, “You dismissed me. sir,” replied Pim
ple, a very innocent look in his large
round eyes, “and ”
“Uh,, I’ll overlook Whittles case; well
sink orswim together!"
“Not if I know if’responded Master Pim
ple, his cowardly nature beginning to as
sert Lself directly he was appealed to.
“You mixed the pills for Whittle’s ba
by.
‘‘So I did. I remember now you men
tion it. Then, of course, I will take the
whole blame. They were harmless
enough. Pimple, you must stand by me
now. Wife and children all are gone—
even Clara, ungrateful hussy, has left me
since Leah Dawson came and flaunted
her false tale. I —there's somebody knock
ing, Pimple, see who it is.”
“Why can’t they walk in instead of ex
pecting to be waited on?” demanded Pim
ple, cheekily, as he went unwillingly to
the door.
He returned with much greater alacrity.
His eyes ablaze with excitement, /as he
hoarsely whispered:
“it's a detective wants to see you.”
“To see me!” exclaimed Dr. Boyd,
shrinking back against the counter. "I—
I’ve none nothing!’
A policeman entered —an entire stranger
“Does Dr. Boyd live here?”
“No —yes —l—l—but oh, sir,” pit
eously, "what do you want. I’ve never
done anybody any harm. I ”
"No, no. sir,” replied the policeman,
civilly; “I’m sure you have not It’s
your son ”
“My son!” shrieked Dr. Boyd, in agony.
“What would you have with him? He's
only been a little wild, as most young men
are. He’ll •”
“I have not come to do him any harm,
sir,” observed the policeman, civilly and
soothingly. “I’m from Lirkliam, sir.
We’ve had a wire from Montford about
Mr. Mark Boyd.”
“.He is not hpre—not here, I assure
you,” declared Mr. Boyd agitatedly. “1
know nothing of him latterly. He has
forsaken me because he has so many ene
mies in this wretched place. He’s ac
cused of m*rde r now, my pretty-haired,
bright boy, Mark, but ”
• If he lias committed murder or any
other crime,” said the policeman, sol
emnly, “it’s possible that he has escaped
justice. That’s what I’m sent to dis—
“ Escaped! How!” shrieked Dr. Boyd’
in alarm, mingled with astonishment.
“There was a railway accident, sir. be
tween Montford and Ulstone the night be
fore last. It is believed that he was in it.
It has been proved that he was at Briar
wood ; that he made ujmurderous,-assault
on two young ladies; the cabman whp
drove him to the station has been found,
and gives his evidence. You can have
every item of news furnished you. Is
that ring his?”
Dr. Boyd pounced feverishly on the
article offered. It was a ring of singular
devjee. Once seen it could never be mis
taken—a dervish in gold, encircled in a
snake of green emerald—a horrible de
sign.
That is his!” cried the anguished
father.
“Where, where is my son? Take me to
him!” - ..
The policeman shook his head.
"Mr. Mark Boyd is dead! He ”
"But take me to him. He is mine,
mine! Though all the world forsake my
sou,l will cling to him. When I knew he
had compassed Nelly Henstock’s ruin
I—but take me to him. I will guard his
body. I—”
“There is nothing to take you to, sir.
Mr. Mark Boyd and the carriage he was
alone occupying were smashed into smith
ereens! They've picked up what they
could of him and placed it in a coffin.
There is just sufficient to identify him, it
is belieyed. A huge poke bonnet which he
was proved to have been wearing that
very evening was found odtside the win
dow-, as if lurched out when the collision
occurred; a single hand, the only whole
part of his Dody, with this ring on, was
extricated from between the debris, and
there is also an evelope which a man
picked up only this morning fixed in the
splinters, bearing liis address here. So if
you recognize the ring, I think it is all
satisfactory; 1 but bear up, sir. It’s
hard to endure at first. I’m a familyman
myself—but he may have been spared
from worse.”
He went away, leaving Dr. Boyd
crushed with despair, another type of how
the wicked flourish, as Mark had tri
umphantly put it. Great chances had
been theirs, but they had all been per
verted. Eli-ljke, Dr. Boyd recognized his
mistake when too late. His son had done
and he restrained him not, but rather
gloried in liis cleverness.
Mark, according to the world, had
“escaped.” True, human justice in its
severity was never doled out to him. Ho
escaped it. But methinks he but went
the sooner, without even that last short
season of repentance, where the condem
nation is “Vongence is mine. I will re
pay!” If that be escape! then indeed
Mark Boyd did escajie!
Yet obloquy, vituperation, and public
abuse were freely poured on his name.
The prison doors might not open to re
ceive liis frame, but nevertheless his
crimes, liis sins, liis escapades, were band
ied about front mouth to mouth. The
great cause eelebre came on whereby the
guilt of Lord Lane in connection with
George Trevelyan’s murder was removed
from his‘ shoulders onto Mark Boyd’s.
The coroner and jury which had so easily
laid the blame on an innocent head were
reproved. By and by the waters closed
iic. in over the past and things went on as
if forgotten.
Maisie Gunton became Lady Lane. A
proud, haughty dame. Some people
averred she was both master and mis
tress. It was not so. Lord Lane's adver
sity taught him a lesson to be firm and
brave. He wielded the reins lightly, hut
not lightly enough for Maisie, who had
escaped much more authority. In one of
her letters to Milly (Mrs. Metcalfe) —who
rejoiced as much as any in her far away
bungalow at her unexpected freedom
from a heavy burden—she wrote:
"Horace is not, half as considerate as
dear George would have been. He does
so like his own way. Even in household
matters he interferes, but I intend to
speak out aud show him.” etc., etc.
Whether her autocratic ladyship has
spoken out cannot here be decided. A
visit to Briarwool} would soon show .
A loving wife has Roy Gunton's Flora
made. She is always grateful for her
lavish toilettes and pretty rooms, but
dearer than all is Roy her lord and
master. Mrs. Charles Gunton. a loader
often, declares that Flora is soft, and so
Roy will find out some day. Flora only
raises her eves trustingly to her husband.
That siie will be Lady Gunton in the
future is a thorn in Hilda Gunton's side.
Dearly would she love the honor. Flora
thinks but little of it. Long may the day
>■ distant when “dear grandpa”—Sir
Henry—be taken, is her fevont prayer.
[to hr convinced.]
Miss Jean Ingelow. the :etess, is 63 years
old. and lives quietly .South Kensington,
England. .She is still a bard worker, Pelev
ina that perseverance in the* the better part
of genl‘i“
A DETECTIVE IN RUSSIA.
From the London Telegraph
“Love us in black; everyone will love
us in red.”—Russian proverb.
“I was a university man. gospodocn
(sir), and an officer in the guards, too—
God’s my witness—before I took to skulk
ing at street corners without a copper
copeck to pay for a night’s shelter. It is
a true saying, ‘Let no man ever scorn
the beggar's knapsack nor the convict's
cell, nor spit in the well he may have to
drink from.’ ”
These words, issued from a heap of
blacaness, darker than the dusky back
ground of the dead wall close to which it
covered, brought me to a standstill at the
corner of a lonely street in Kieff, the
mother of Russian cities. I don’t know
exactly why I stopped to listen, for I was
never before in a less charitable mood
than on that wild winter’s night. The
frost would have frozen up the milk of
human kindness in the breast of a saint,
and made a stoic morose and selfish. Al
though but a few minutes past 9 o’clock,
the streets were as deserted as at mid
night, and the few stragglers still abroad
were floundering helplessly about in the
deep snow, the sharp prickly particles of
which were being well rubbed into their
faces and ears by an icy wind violent
enough to root up the paving stones,
and sharp enough to shave a new
laid egg. Heavens, what a wind! An
English northeaster is a gentle zephyr
to it. And the air was cold enough in all
conscience to dispense with the factitious
aid of wind, for when the mercury slinks
away till it has put 45 degress between its
resting place and freezing point, rely upon
it circulation isgoing on under sufficiently
serious difficulties'. But the storm made
the air feel fully 20 degrees colder. The
frost penetrating the body like a shot
from a Manlicher regulation rifle, you
had no time to shiver or shudder, but
your heart began to flutter like a bird
beating its wings against the cage bars,
and your teeth were set flrmly as in lock
jaw. Then you remembered the sins of
your Youth, and meditated upon death.
That is how I felt, although physically
enveloped from head to foot in a warm
fur shooba (fur mantle), in which ray
own mother would not have recognized
her son Moreover, I was in a peevish,
discontented frame of mind. Everything
had gone aglee with me all that day, and
I had been for the last ten minutes keep
ing one eye half open in hopes of sighting
a stray sleigh to take me away from the
scene of my tribulation, but there was
not a vehicle of any kind within hail.
The hills and hollows of slippery snow
that beset my path had also tried my tem
per. I had twice measured my full length
on the ground, getting the snow down my
neck and smashing my new Maximum
thermometer in my efforts to rise; while
the wind made my cheeks and eyelids
ache, numbed my nose till, in sheer self
defense, I had to rub it briskly with
snow, and continually blew my shooba
wide open, threatening me with inflam
mation of the lungs and consumption. I
could have punished that wind as Xerxes
punished the waves, if I only had slaves
to do my bidding, and, failing that, I
could have sat down where I was and
cried with rage and vexation—but I have
always been opposed to suicide on prin
ciple.
Such were the circumstances under
which 1 was suddenly confronted by a
lazy hulk of a fellow, who for, aught I
knew might follow up his .appeal for
alms by the magic assurance that he had
nothing in the world to call his own ex
cept a single revolver and a few miserable
cartridges with which It was loaded.
Beggars in Russia are as plentiful as
blackberries, as Dersausive as Irish law
yers, and sometimes as desperate as high
waymen. A year’s experience of their
ways, without exactly turning you
into an unfeeling cynic, develoys a thin
crust of ice around your heart which it
needs something more than the fire of
everyday eloquence to thaw.
“Why don’t you work like an honest
man!” I asked, uncertain what to say.
"Work?” he replied interrogating.
“Work?” (bitterly). • Tobies are urcssed
in shoobus, as they ought to be this time
of year. Who’ll give work to the outcast
—to the jetsam and floatsam of a rotten
society? I’ve fallen to the very bottom
of the social staircase; the next stage is
the grave, and I shan't have very long to
wait for that now. Night is as good a
season for death as day, and frost not
more painful than hunger. May God re
quite you for your kindness, gosixideen.
Goodnight.” “Stop a moment,” I ex
claimed, desperately working my way to
ward the receding bundle of darkness;
“You have wilfully misunderstood me,
and insulted me to boot, and you should
be the last man to do that, ‘For the
wolf there’s hunger; for the
fox toothsome morsels,’ says
tho proverb, What I meant to say
was that if you were telling me the truth,
and really desired to become honest and in
dustrious again, 1 would at once, h’m, that
is, I could, h’m, if, I mean that, if I saw
my way, l might right things somewhat
again for you. Where do you live!” “In
space.” "No lodgings!” "No, nor the
price of that, either.” “Where did you
live—that is, h’m, lodge, sleep, I mean?”
“In a hayloft.” “And before that?” “In
a church.” “Now, look here, draw near
to the lamp; yes, that's it. Just come
with me and I’ll put you up in my
kitchen for to-night, and to-morrow I’ll
see what 1 can do for you. I’m taking
you at your own estimate, mind, and I
hope you’ll justify.”
“It’s not a very extravagant one, I fan
cy. An outcast, I believe I said—the
flotsam.” ** * “Why will you persist in
misunderstanding me! I mean as to your
past.” “Well, that won’t throw very
much light on my future. Don’t think 1
want to touch ypur heart. Perhaps I did
when I first accosted you. Hunger and
cold make a man do strange things. But
now I don’t care a cedar nut what be
falls me. It’s all fate. I’ll go with you
if you like. If you don’t like, why, I’ll
tuck myself up in the snow. There are
not seven deaths in store for us and we
can’t steer clear of one.” “What you
want, my friend, is common sense and
moderation. Oh, dash this snow. I’ve
broken my arm, 1 swear. The sidewalk
ought to be strewn with isand, instead of
which— ’* “They’ve strewnit with snow,”
lie broke iti, very impertinently, as it
seemed to me, for although I had not
broken my a*m 1 had hurt it, and I did
, not relish being laughed at by a beggar.
I bottled up my rage, however, by way of
giving him an object lesson in self-mas
tery; and we soon came up to a sleigh,
the driver of which was wildly dancing
in order to keep away the bitter cold and
-treacherous sleep.
An hour later we were comfortably
Stated iu my dining room at a table
adorned with a big, bright samovar,
sweetly singing of the domesticity, as
no kettle on the most blazing fire in the
cosiest of rooms ever yet sang. Mv
strange guest—Nikolai Stepanovitch
Maikoff was the name he gave—had
brightened up a bit, but only as to his
brain. His mood remained as despondent
as before. He was a tall, spare man, with
a long, pinched five, high cheek bones,
hollow cheeks with hectic flush, sunken
eyes, and shaggy red beard. His bearing
was as haughty as that of a Spanish beg
gar, his tone frank and familiar almost
to the point of cynicism and he had an
awkward habit of talking loudly and in
terrupting others. He was an old man of
twenty-eight or thereabouts—experience
being the stuff that age is made of and he,
having a deal more than his share, had
burned life’s candle at both ca ls, and
scoffed at the Idea of e onomiz
ing now. I felt pity for the i: n on ab
stract principles, for I was fre: ii Irom the
university aud full of the id< i of regu
i latiug society aud infusing what we la
be led "the quinteseence of Christianity
or the gospel according to Doatoieffsky”
into my life. I mentally set myself to
the task of rescuing this outcast from the
jaws of spiritual death and smuggling
him once more into decent society through
some back door, for I held that every
fallen man is better than he fancies him
self. lam of the same opinion still, only
I would now add —If not a good deal
worse.
"I suppose you don't mind my asking
you something about your antecedents,
just enough to guile me in my choice of
ways and means of helping you.” 1 said
as I pushed the second tumbler of piping
hot tea toward him, the delicious fra
grance of which he speedily dispelled
with a thin slice of lemon, and was about
to annihilate utterly by adding a suspicion
of rum—a very heavy suspicion it seemed
to me at the time.
“Ah, batyaoshka” (little father), he ex
riaimed, waiving his hand despairingly,
“the mere thought of disturbing the
ghosts of the past makes my flesh creep.
They seem to stare at me like deserted
images of myself, and they often haunt
and mock me till death would seem a re
lief if I was sure of not /meeting them as
torturing fiends down there. ‘The moth
eats stuffs, and sorrow gnaws the heart
of man,’ says the proverb, and some men’s
hearts were made only to be gnawed per
petually, like Prometheus’ liver. Mine is
one of the number. I never had what's
known as luck, but an invisible luck-con
ductor instead. The pleasant thing that
I saw only in dreams happened every day
to other people when they were awake.”
And having emptied his glass he pushed
the saucer on which it stood so violenty
toward me and the samovar that the
tumbler fell out and stained the
white tablecloth. I cut short his
apologies by ignoring the incident al
together and returning to the previous
question. “You are a pessimist, Nikolai
Stepanovitch,” I exclaimed, “and —”
.“Believe me,” he broke in, “I'd gladly
win the game, but have neither trumps
nor a long suit, as the saying is, and must
needs let things slide. ‘When the lemon’s
squeezed dry it’s high time the peel be
flung away.’ and that’s my case.”
“Well, tell me how it all came about,
anyway. You say you were at the uni
versity. Did you take your degree!”
“Not I. I never took anythink worth
having. My lot has been that of the Tar
tar in the story. When he saw the de
licious kissell (a kind of of Jelly) in his
dream he had no spoon to eat it with, and
when he went to bed with a spoon he saw
no kissell. I left the university when my
father lost his fortune, of which we were
ignorant until he lost his life, too. My
sister and myself were then for turning
our hands to some lucrative work so as to
keep the mill turning. But my mother
would not hear of it. She adpred me as ;iq,
ieon, and she wanted a golden frame to
put me in. I was to enter high society
and play a lion’s part therein. The short
est cut in the saloons being through tho
officers’ messroom of a cracking regiment,
I entered the Preobrashensky regiment as
a volunteer, and in fourteen months had
passed my examinations and won my
epaulets. Life there is an expensive lux
ury ; one’s pay falls short of ten pounds a
year, and money must never seem a con
sideration to an officer. My mother had a
little annuity of her own, not enough to
support me alone, and how she managed
to scrape together the money I squandered
was a mystery which I did not seek to
clear up. Her life, I could see, was a tis
sue of physical privations; my sister also
hinted it was also a series of moral tor
tures. Of that, however, I never saw any
signs. But it was balm to her heart to
know that I was invited to every big
function in the city, beginning with the
court ball in the Winter Palace and end
ing with the private theatricals at Prin
cess X.’s. Being an untiring dancer and
a fair talker I was in great demand every
where. That was the first point in the
programme drawn up by my mother, who
lived on the tales of my success.
“In time I was booked through for the
haven of matrimony to take in a precious
cargo there, and that was my mother's
second and last point. The girl? Line most
girls of her age and position, only not
quite so fresh, perhaps, not quite so cul
tured, and not quite so highly connected.
One evening shortly before the day fixed
for our wedding, while petty annoyances
were making my life a misery, I received
a letter from my sister, asking me to
call an her at ouoe. I seated myself in a
sleigh and glided noiselessly away to my
mother’s, full of a presentiment that a
fresh stroke of misfortune was about to
fail. One trouble breeds another, tra the
saying goes, but every sorrow bears seven!
Leepotshka, my sister, made no attempt
to break the news. The preestav, she
said, was coming to seal up everything we
possessed for the creditors. If we would
raise the amount in time, the calamity
might be averted. It was a large sum,
but I got it that night from the father of
one. of my comrades in return for a receipt.
My promise to pay by a certain date .was
verbal.
“Then I made some attempts to tap va
rious sources of honest income compatible
with an officer’s dignity. I might as well
have tried to press oil from a rock. I
called on editors of newspapers and re
views. They received me with smiles,but
as soon as they 1 knew what I wanted
seemed to feel on pins and needles till the
thickness of the door was between them
and me. This drove me into the clutches
of a swindling money-lender. A Jew ! No.
I wish he had been. He was what a Chi
naman would caliaChristian devil.Helent
me money readily more than omie. Then
he assailed my ears with unceasing talk
about bills of exchange, imitating hand
writing. acquiring untold wealth, etc. I
didn’t know’ exactly what he was driving
at; but 1 was satisfied that the public
prosecutor would know, and his vocabu
lary afforded a very ugly word for it.
That alone should have mado
me cautious, but it didn’t.
Anyhow, it’s silly to fight against
fate. As the proverb has it, ‘Moveslowly
and you will not elude sorrow ; quickly
and you will overtake, misfortune.’ A bird
is caught bv food and a man by precious
words. I yielded, and wrote a name which
belonged to an absent milliouaire, who
was not even my friend. Next momingl
awoke to the fact that I was a criminal.
“Then the scoundrel rubbed his hands
and smiled and wiped his greafly forehead
with a greasy handkerchief, and said he
would never tell. He would not even use
the document. He would sacrifice his
own money for my sake; but. on my mar
riage, I must undertake to give him
100,000 roubles in installments. One
moraine, after he had been running oil
like this for an hour, I got up and knocked
him down; then I shook him till he was
black in the face, and I dragged him to
the door to fling him out when lie called
me a dashed forger and threatened to
send me along the Vladeemeer road (a
syuonim for exile to Siberia). I then
pushed him violently into the anteroom,
where two comrades of tne regiment
stood looking in speechless horror at the
scene.
“I was allowed to send in my resigna
tion. Otherwise I should have been a
pariah from the beginning instead of a
slow process of evolution. For a man
who quits the army, as I did, the only
branch of public service open is the po
lice. I applied for a pmAl ion in the gen
darmerie. and obtained it. The letter
which brought that welcome news was
put into my hands on my return from my
mother’s funeral. How she died? For
heaven's sake don’t ask me. Even now
1 cannot trust myself to talk of that. My
bride! She is now the wife of Count Y',
and one of the leaders of fashion.”
“I have put the iron bedstead in the
kitchen, master, and they (tne Russian
way of speaking politely of a third jierson
who fs present) can go to bed when they
like,” said my servant girl, eyeing fur
tively my guest as she entered and left
the room.
“I have little more to add,” concluded
Nicolay Stepanovitch. “For a time ,
dazed and mold'd about. Then 1 trie l .
realize my poaitiou by considering f* *
every conceivable point of view th., T
that I was a criminal, a forger the „
derorof my ixior old mother, who idnr 1 )
me. the destroyer of my sister s ham i
ness, a human devil, in a word •i> 1
seemed to me to be a mysterv as to howl!
had all come about. ] felt like Acihi ’
ami so many of his countrymen 'JV?
drifted into crime in spite of themscK °
as it were, and I loathed my surro '• 1’
mgs, scorned ray coarse companions t
cursed my fate. Then, little by little r
grew accustomed to everything
and forgave myself, ami f,„
my crime in the end— assent
lated it. in fact. After this i
took to cards, drinking and kindred r
times.' and I might be playing a gau'.'ot
■vmt’ at this very moment had 1 not taken
pity on a day-dreamer who was in danger
of transportation. He was a crack
brained literary man who believed in ( o <i
and tho power of ideas, cared aliout
every one but himself and had an excuse
for the worst criminal. ‘Spit in his eves’
as the proverb says, ‘and he’ll call it
God's dew.’ His lodgings were to b
searched for compromising papers nex ,
night, and one of my chums was told 0 !t
to do the work. I was sorry for the poor
fellow, for he had done more to give me a
little peace of mind than any priest 1 ever
met. I dropped him a line—' anonymously
of course—and next day I was* dropped
by the service.”
“Surely the man was not a spy’” j
asked. “Heavens, no! As true as gold
He was that sort of a man that would
let himsQlf be roasted over a slow fi ra
just to save a perfect stranger from a
flogging. I afterward found out that he
had been arrested before I even posted
the note of warning. A trap? Maybe
They Ure not all asleep who snore, even
among the Russian police. Or a curious
coincidence? The devil knows. I mother
knew nor eared. To me it spelled the
same word both ways, and that was ruin 11
“Ruin!” *
“Aye, ruin. A dismissed gendarme is
worse than a convict. Every door is shut
to him. He is shunned even by the con
victs who return from Siberia. For him
and therefore for me, there is but one is-’
sue—death.”
PLAYING AT POVERTY.
A Millibnaire Turns Tramp for the
Furr orthe Thing.
David H. Lichtenstein, of the firm o!
Lichtenstein Bros., dry goods merchants
Nos. 273 to 285 Grand street, is a million
aire, He has been stopping for the sum
mer in Wave Crest, L. 1., where he owns
a fine cottage. At Wave Crest other
ealthy men, most of them members ol
the Progress Club, of which Mr. Lichten
stein is vice president, have cottages
With plenty' of money , commodious and
lavishly furnished houses, and nothing to
do through the summer but to enjoy life,
the summer colony at Wave Crest has
had an easy time of it.
One day, shortly before leaving for the
summer, Mr. Lichenstein happened to see
an Italian organ-grinder. It set him so
liloquizing over his own happy lot and
over the miserable one of the poor Italian.
An idea occurred to Mr. Lichtenstein.
He would borrow thehandorgan. disguise
himself, and try to imagine himself an
organ-grinder for half an hour. He
hunted up the Italian and paid him $lO
for the loan of his organ. Then he went
to his room and donned an old suit n(
clothes and a dilapidated hat. He smiied
to himself as he removed the diamond
from his shirt front and the brilliant rings
from his fingers.
He sallied forth with his organ and be
gan play ing in front of the residences ol
his friends, one after another. At the
first place lie went through the whole re
portoire, but without receiving any con
tribution. Then lie started “After the
Ball,” and played it three times in suc
cession. which brought out the servant
girl in a hurry. She threw a
penny 7 in the box and begged him to go
away,
Mr. Lichenstein stopped in front of the
next housci, but they had heard all they
wanted and gave him a cent before ho
could grind out the first selection. At his
next stop he played until he thought his
arm would fall off, but got nothing.
He skipped a whole block and had just
got ready to turn the crank at another
corner when a party of four ladies cauia
along, with each of whom Mr. Lichten
stein was intimately acquainted. His
heart sank into his silk stockings and he
was fearful of being recognized. It was
too late to run, so he put on a bold front,
and, after rendering “Marguerite,” ha
held his hat out so prominently as to al
most obstruct their progress.
“Gracious, how persistent!” exclaimed
one of the ladies. “Poor fellow, I sup
pose he's hungry,” and she dropped a
cents in the tin cup.
Mr. Lichtenstein was about to congrat
ulate himself'on his escape when, to his
horror, a fat dog which belonged to the
party, and which he had fed with many a
lump of sugar, rushed up to him and
wagged his tail in joyful recognition,
showing that dogs are wiser than man
kind in that they do not judge people bv
the clothes they wear. Mr. Lichtenstein
scowled and the dog looked surprised and
ran away.
Mr. Lichtenstein played in front of four
other houses without getting a cent and
was twice insulted. As he was crossing
over to another street he tan plump into
little Lawyer Abe Hummel. The meet
ing was so sudden that he could not
smother an exclamation. Here was the
man wityi whom he had played pinochle
night after night at the Progress Club,
with whom he had gone to theaters, and
with whom only the day before he had
engaged in a confidential chat. Mr. Hum
me! was quick-witted enough to observe
that there was something odd about the
organ grinder’s behavior and he kept his
eye on him until he was lost around the
corner.
Mr. Lichtenstein was now getting
bolder. He planted himself in front of
his own house. Heated in front of the
cottage were two ladies of the house and
several little children. The children
were delighted to seo him, and enjoyed
his selections more than the old folks did.
When he played "On the Bowery" one or
the little girls clapped her hands with de
light, and running into the house, cried,
“Uncle Dave, Uncle Dave! tho mans
play ing ‘On the Bowery.’ ”
This is one of Mr. Lichtenstein’s favor
ite airs, and the child was disappointed
on not finding him in the house.
That was glory enough, and Mr. Lichten
stein shouldered his organ and stole away
to a photograph gallery, where he had
his picture taken. He said nothing of h *
venture to any one just then, but he in
vited a party of friends to dinner "
him that evening, and at the table he let
the cat out of the bag. At first they re
fused to believe him, but he produced
his photograph, and with the corroy'ra
tion of Abe Hummel’s undefined suspicion
and the strange behavior of the h>-
which the women had noticed, the case
> was (omplete.
Among the guests at the dinner " :l *
Mr. Hummel. “I thought it was you
said- the little lawyer. “I thought it "■'
you—that is—l thought something-- 111111 ®
it all, I don’t know what I thought.’
Courted Six Women in a Day.
From the Philadelphia Press.
Richmond, Va., Sept. 13. —William H-
Weaver, a widower, over 00 years ■
living in Northumberland county. 11 ‘
state, has beaten tho record iu, , n
making. He buried his second wife i
Sept. 1. Seven days later he started o
in search of his third partner and court'
six women on that day, five of whom
jected his offer of marriage. The a**,
one accepted and the wedding
place immediately.