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THE SUNNY SOUTH
I
FIFTH <PAGF.
i
Turnpike House >3*
A HEW
SERIAL
i ® 7
Fergus Hume
The Sunny South presents the first installment of Mr. Hume's latest serial. By those who haTfe been fortunate enough to see the advance
sheets it has been pronounced a story of thrilling interest, unique in conception and strong in realization. Mr. Hume is also the author of
44 The Mystery of a Hansom Cab," 44 The Crimsom Cryptogram," 4 4 The Golden Idol," 4, The DtParf s Chamber," Etc.
(Copyright 1902.)
CHAPTER ONE
SX« Convict’s Return
T stood where four roads
met—a square building of
two stories, with white
washed walls and a hlgn
slate root. The fence, and
the once trim garden, had
vanished with the turn-
plXe gate; and a Jungle
of gooseberry bushes. In
terspersed with brambles,
shut off the house from
the roads. And only by
courtesy could these be
so called, for time and
neglect had almost obliterated them.
On all sides stretched a flat expanse of
reaped fields, bleak-looking and barren
In the waning November twilight. Mists
gathered thickly over ditch and hedge
and ijtubbled furrow; a constant dripping
could be heard in the clumps of trees
looming here and there in the fog.
Through the kitchen garden Jungle a
narrow, crooked path led up to the door
where two rough stones ascended to a
broken threshold. Indeed, the whole
house appeared ragged In Its poverty.
Many of the windows were stuffed up
with rags; walls, cracked and askew,
exuded grren slime; mc»5s, interspersed
with lichen, filled In the crevices of the
slate upon the roof. A dog would scarce
ly have sought such a kennel, yet a dim
light In the left-hand window of the lower
story showed that this kennel was inhab
ited. There sat within—a woman and a
child. -
The outer decay but typified the pover
ty of the interior. Plaster had fallen
from walls and ceiling, and both were
cracked in all directions. No carpet
covered the warped floor, and the pinched
fire in the rusty grate gave but scanty
warmth to the small apartment. A deal
table, without a cloth, two deal chairs,
and a three-legged stool—these formed the
sole furniture. On the blistered black
mantelshelf a few cups and saucers of
thick delft ranged themselves, and their
gay pinks and blues were the only cheer
ful note In the prevailing misery.
The elder of these two outcasts sat by
the bare table: a tallow candle of the
cheapest description stuck in a bottle
shed a feeble light, by which she sewed
furiously at a flannel shirt. Stab, click,
click, stab, she tolled In mad hawte as
though working for a wager. Intent on
her labor she had no looks to spare for
the 10-year-old boy who crouched by the
Are; not that he heeded her neglect, for
a brown toy horse took up all his atten
tion, and he was perfectly happy In man
aging what was, to him, an unruly steed.
From the likeness between these two,.
the most casual observer would have pro
nounced them' mother and son. She had
on cebeen beautiful, this slender woman,
with her fair hair and blue eyes, but
trouble and destitution had robbed her of
a delicate loveliness w'hich could have
thriven only under congenial circum
stances. In those fading eyes, now fever
ishly glittering, there lurked an expression
of dread telling of a mind 111 at ease.
Painty garments would have well become
her fairness, but she was clothed, rather
than dressed, in a black stuff gown with
out even a linen collar to relieve its lus
terless aspect. Poverty had made her
careless of her appearance, heedless of
the respect due to herself, arid her sole
aim, apparently, was the speedy comple
tion of the shirt at which she incessantly
have money agon—plenty of
Gilbert stared at the half forgotten father <who had been so long a stranger. Then the
fierce inherited hatred ’tooke suddlenly Ivithin him
The buy mss a null copy of his mother,
with tho same fab 1 hair and blue eyes;
but his face had mora color, his figure
was mrt rounded, and he was clothed
with a care which showed the forethought
and the love of a mother even in the
direst poverty.
After some twenty minutes of silence,
broken cfily by the clicking of the needle
and the low chatter of the child, signs of
exhaustion began to show themselves Sn
the worker. Before long big, hot tears
fell on the gray flannel, and she opened
her mouth with an hysterical gasp. Slow
ly and more slowly did the seamstress ply
her needle, until at last, wjth a strangled
»ob, she flung back her head. "Oh,
heavens!” was her moan, and it seemed
to be wrung from the very depths of her
suffering heart. The child, with a nervous
cry. looked up, trembling violently.
"What is It, mother? Is father com
ing?"
“No, thank heaven!" said the mother,
fiercely. "Do you want him?”
So white did the boy’s face become that
his eyes showed black as pitch balls. The
question seemed to strike him like a blow,
ond he hurled himself forward to bury
his head in the woman's lap. “Don't—
den't let him come!" he sobbed, with un-
l retrained passion.
"Why do you speak of^tim, then?" cried
the mother, angrily, just as she might
have addressed a person of her own agd.
"Never mention your father, Gilbert. He
has gone out of your life—out of mini*
He Is dead to you—and to me.”
"I am glad,” sobbed the boy, shaking
with nervous excitement. "Are you sure,
quite sure, mother, he will never come
back again?”
"Wbo is sure of anything?" muttered
the woman, gloomily. “He Is out of
prison now; at any time he may track us
down. But he shall not get you, m.v
bey.” and she strained the child to her
breast. “I would kill him first!”
"I would kill him. too—kill him, too!"
panted Gilbert, brokenly. "Oh, mother,
r.other! I hato him! I hate him!” and
he burst into tears,
"Kush, hush, my baby!” soothed the
mother. "Never think of him. He wil! n I
get you. No. no."
But the boy continued to sob convul
sively, and it required all her arts to
pacifv him. She knew from experience
what the end of this outbreak would be
I Will Cure You of
Rheumatism
NO PAY UNTIL YOU KNOW IT.
After 2,000 experiments. I have learned
hew to cure Rheumatism. Not to turn
bony Joints into flesh again; that is Im
possible. But I can cure the disease al
ways. at any stage, and forever.
I ask for no money. Simply write me
a postal and 1 will send you an order on
vour nearest druggis! for six bottles of
t>r. Shoop's Rheumatic Cure, for every
dtuggist keeps it. Use it for a month,
ana if It does what I claim, pav vour
druggist *5.50 for it. If it doe'sn't. I'will
pav him myself.
l‘ have no samples. Any medicine that
can affect Rheumatism with but a few
doses must be drugged to the verge of
danger. I use no such drugs. It Is follv
to take them. You must get the disease
out of the blocd.
Mv remedy does that, even !n the most
difficult, obstinate cases. No matter how
impossible this seems to you. I know it
and I take this risk. 1 have cured tens
of thousands cf cases in this way, and
my records show that 29 out of 40 wlm
get those six bottles pay. and gladlv. I
have learned that people In general arc
honest with a physician who cures them.
That is all I ask. If I fail I don’t expect
a penny from you.
Pimply write me a postal card or letter.
Let me send you an order for the medi
cine; also a book. Take it for a month,
for it won't harm you anyway, if it
cure:-, pay 95.50. I leave that entirelv to
vou. Address Dr. Shoop. Box 901, Racine.
WIs.
Mild cases, not chronic, are often
cured by one or two bottles. At all drug
gists.
If continued bejlind a point. The Had
was precocious and neurotic, quite un
disciplined. taking color from his sur
roundings, tone from the atmosphere in
which he chanced to be; and as the
lit took him could be angel or demon.
Rut. in ten minutes the mother had suc
ceeded in soothing him sufficiently to
send him back to his play. Then she
recommenced her work, and as the needle
flew through the coarse stuff she thought
of her husband.
"The brute! The hound!” so ran her
thoughts. "It Is his work. If Gilbert
should see him again he would die or
go mad, or fall into one of his trances.
In any case he would be lost to me.
Ah!” she broke out aloud, pushing the
hair from her lined forehead. "How long
will it last?”
There was nq. answer to the despairing
question, and she went on sewing, listen
ing the while to the prattle of her lad.
''Stand still, Brownie!” the child was
saying. “You aren't galloping over the
big green of Bedford-park. Do you re
member your nice stable there, Brownie,
and the pretty rooms? I don't like this
house any more than you do. Mother
was happy In our pretty cottage, so was
I, so was my Brownie."
"Mother will never be happy again.”
murmured the woman, savagely stab
bing the flannel as though she were stab
bing the man of whom she was thinking.
"Ruin and disaster! Disaster and ruin!
Whv are such men created?”
Gilbert took no notice.
"Do vou remember the , red houses.
Brownie, and the railway? I took you
there often for a trot. It was Just tbree
years ago. Trot now!”
"Aye, Just three years!” cried the wom
an. "Yeafs of agony, pain, shame and
disgrace. Why doesn't he die!" and she
bit off the end of a thread viciously.
"Mother,” said the boy, unexpectedly,
"I'm hungry. Give me something to
eat/'
The woman opened a cupboard and
brought out a small loaf, a bundle of
victuals, and a tiny packet of tea, pdr"’-
lous as gold to her poverty. In silence
she boiled the kettle, and brewed a
cup; In silence she set the food before the
hungry child. But when she began to
eat her feelings proved too much for
her. She burst Into fierce words.
"Eat the bread of charity. Gilbert!"
she said, In a loud, hard voice, and still
speaking as though to a person of her
own age. "The loaf only Is paid for by
our own money. I got the bones and the
meat from Miss Cass at the Hall. She
took me for a beggar In spite of the
work I have done for her. And she is
right. I am a beggar—so are you—and
your father— There, there! Don't look
so scared. We will not speak of him."
Then the boy did a strange thing.
With a sudden pounce he seized a sharp-
pointed, buck-handled knife used for cut
ting the bread, and, raising it in the
air, looked at his mother with fierce
eyes.
"If my father takes me away from
you," he said, shrilly, “I’ll stick this Into
him. I will, mother!"
With an ejaculation of terror she
snatched the knife out of his small handl,
clenched now so wickedly. "Heaven for
give me,” she thought, laying it down
on the table. "My hatred comes out in
him. I may lead him into danger.
Heaven keep his father out of his way. I
should see a doctor." She glanced round
the room and laughed bitterly. "Oh,
heavens!” she broke cut aloud. "See a
doctor. I can't pay, and ask him In this
hovel! Charity? No, no. I'll earn my
bread. If I die in the earning.” And she
fell as fiercely as before to her sewing.
Gilbert, now himself again, ate slowly
and with much enjoyment. At intervals
he fed the horse which he had brought
to the table with him. His mother
watched him. pondering over his late out
burst so terribly suggestive of the latent
instincts In the child. She knew well the
reason of it. though she would not ac
knowledge so much even to herself. Her
husband had treated her brutally, and the
high-spirited creature had resented his
behavior with passionate hatred. She
had taught her child to detest his father.
It was a wild night. The wind beat
against the crazy building till it creaked
in all its loosened joints. Still the woman
went on sewing, and the boy continued
to eat. A miserable si’.ence settled down
upon them.
Suddenly the mother raised her hand and
the child stopped eating with an expres
sion of terror on his white face.
The woman listened, wide-eyed—not in
vain. From some distarce came the
sound of a dragging footstep.' There was
a drag, a halt, and then again a drag, as
though some wounded animal were writh
ing its way to a place of safety. The out
cast kr.ew the sourd of that halting gait
only too well. So did the boy.
"It's father!” he cried, shrilly. A look
of mingled terror, repulsion, hatred, took
possession of his white face.
"Hush!” said th? woman. Imperatively,
and left the lodm. For a moment Gilbert
sat quietly listening; then his small hand
slipped along the table to grasp the buck-
handled knife. Trembling with excite-/
ment. he watched the door: he could hear
without his mother's taunting voice.
"Come in. Mark Jenner. I know you
are standing there In the darkness. En
ter, and see the state to which vour wick
edness nas reduced your wife and child.
Come In, you lying scoundrel, you brute,
you thief!”
In answer to this invitation came a
growl as of an ar%Ty animal. Then the
footsteps dragged themselves nearer and
halted at the door. Then ensued the
sound of taunts and curses. Aria almost
immediately after this exchange of cour
tesies between husband and wife, who
had been parted for three years, the door
opened to admit a thick-set man, whose
lace, in spite of its cunning, was not de
void of refinement, l^e was In rags and
soaking with the wet.
Gilbert stared at this half-forgotten fa
ther who had been so long a stranger.
Then the fierce Inherited hatred woke
suddenly within him. In deadly silence
he launched himself forward, knife In
hand, and struck at his father. Though
taken by surprise the man had about him
some of the swiftness of the wild beast
which is always prepared for danger, and
he warded off the blow with one hand.
But the keen blade had cut him across
the knuckles, and as the blood spurted
he uttered an oath of terror and pain.
For a moment he made as If to fling
himself on his small assailant; then he
paused, with a look of fear. For the
child, passing suddenly from motion to
, stillness, stood, apparently In a catelyp-
tic trance, with rigid limbs and eyes
widely staring. His mother swept down
on him with the swoop of a striking fal
con, and had him in her arms before her
husband could recover himself.
"You have seen him like this before,"
she said, quietly, "so you know he will
remain in the trance for some time. I
will take him to bed.”
“It Is you who have put him up to this.”
cried the naan In a shaking voice.
Mrs. Jenner laughed. "Heaven put him
up to it," she said, hysterically. "1 his
hatred of you dates too far back. You
had better ask a doctor to explain. I
cannot; but f know what 1 know. Wait
till 1 have put him to bed, then I will
come back to hear how you have hunted
me down, and why. I thought I was
free from gaol-biras,” she finished, bit
terly, and passed out of tne room and up
the stairs.
Mr. Jenner gave a savage ejaculation.
Then he shuicled forward to the fire,
warmed himself and proceeded to attack
the food, in an Incredibly short space of
time there was not a crumb left on the
table, and he was still hungry.
“If I oniy had a smoke!” he growled,
squeezing his hands together. "But I
have nothing, not even a welcome. Ah,
well, there axe those who will pay for
' He took a well-worn pocketbook
out pf his breast pocket. “My fortune
lies In here: but It is not safe while he is
about.”
The reflection seemed to make him un
easy, and he glanced round the poor room
looking for a place where he might hide
his treasure. His eyes fell on the brown
horse, and he chuckled;
“She’ll always keep that for Gilbert”
he salu, "and it's not likely to be lost.
I’ll put it In there.”
Having assured himself that his wife
was upstairs, he proceeded to carry out
his plan. The toy was made of rags,
painted and molded to the 3hape of a
horse. So. he made an incision In tho
belly, and, thrusting in his finger, formed
a hole. Then, with a hasty glance round,
lie opened the red pocketbook and pro
duced therefrom a bill of exchange which
he folded up infc a compass as small as
possible. This he thrust into the hole,
pulled the interior stuffing over It. and,
using his wile’s needle, sewed up the hole
with considerable despatch and dexter
ity. A few white threads were still suf
ficiently noticeable to arouse suspicion,
so he rubbed his hand on the sooty grate
and blackened the rent. So neatly was
all this done that no one would have
guessed that the toy had been opened.
Jenner laughed and tossed the horse on
to the table where the child had left it.
"That's all right." he said. ‘‘She'll never
part with anything belonging to the boy.”
He looked over the table to see If any
food remained. Finding nolle, he swore a
little and sat down by the fire, upon which
he had heaped all the fuel he could find.
There he brooded, chin In hand, think
ing of his past, dreading the days to
come.
CHAPTER TWO
Si* Still Torm in the H erase
In a quarter of an hour Mrs. Jenner
returned. She looked at the empty table,
at the heaped up fuel In the grate, and
finally her gaze of loathing and of scorn
fell upon the figure by the fire.
“Still the same selfish brute,” she said,
resuming her seat and her work. “My
child and I are almost starving, almost
without a fire; yet you devour our small
portion and bum our sticks. And why
not? What do our pains matter to you,
so long as you are comfortable?"
"I have llad more discomfort than you,”
grumbled her husband, avoiding her con
temptuous eyes. "Had you been in pris
on—”
“I would never have come near those
whom I had disgraced,” she finished
swiftly, and went on with her stitching.
The culprit writhed.
"Lizzie,” he said, “do not be too hard
on me. I have sinned, but I have been
punished. You might forgive me now.”
“Never!” said the wife, curtly, and the
expression of her eyes told him that she
fuljy meant what she said.
“How hard women can be.”
'•Women,” remarked Mrs. Jenner. shift
ing the work on her knee, "are what men
make them. You behaved to me like the
brute that you are; you cannot blame me,
then, if I treat you according to your na
ture. I live for our child—to make
amends for what you have done. There
fore, I have an object In life. Had I not,
I would gladly die; and I would gain
death—a shameful death—by killing you.”
The terrible intensity of her gaze made
the guilty wretch shiver. "I will make
it up to you," he said, feebly.
“Not you. You will go on just the same
—that is. if I will let you—and that I*
don’t intend to do/’'
I "I shall
money.”
“What! Are you going to steal again?
I want none of your Ill-gotten gains. This
house Is poor, but it is honest. I earn
the food my child and I eat, or I beg It;
but stealing? No, I leave that to you.
Why have you come here?”
”1 thought we might come together
again and live a new life.”
Mrs. Jenner threw aside her work and
sprang up. “I would rather die,” she
said. In a voice of Intense hatred. “You
treated me like a dog; you struck me;
you starved me; you were unfaithful to
me. I would rather die.”
“It was the drink.” Jenner pleaded. “I
was ail right when I was sober."
“And were vou ever sober”” demanded
the woman, bitterly. “Not you. In spite
of all my care, you lay in the mire and
wallowed like the pig you are.”
‘ This Is a nice welcome.” grumbled the
n-an, beginning to lose his temper.
“What did you expect? Tears and
kisses, and the killing of the fatted calf?
No. my man; I have been a fool' too long.
I am no foci now. You have hunted me
down: how, I know not. But you don't
stay here. You go. And this time you gj
—forever.”
“My rights as a husband and a
father—”
“A criminal has no rights,” Interrupted
his wife. "Think of the past.” she went
cn in a loud, hard voice.' "nilnk of it.
and then wonder at your audacity in
coming here to face me—me whom you
lave ruined.”
"I don’t want to think of the past—and
I won’t. Leave it alone; it ,1s dead and
done with.”
"Yes. fcut the consequences remain.
Look at this house—your work. See. my
withered looks—your work. Think of the
child and of his mysterious illness—your
work. Ycu ferget all that you have done.
I do notr”and I Intend to refresh your
memory.”
Jenner turned sullen. There was no
chance of escaping from this, save by
going out again Into the storm, and he
was much too comfortable where he was.
So of the' two evils he chose the lesser:
and even In this his selfish regard for his
own comfort showed Itself. "Go on,
then,” he growled, sullenly.
The woman returned to her seat, and
averting her eyes she began speaking In
a low, monotonous voice, rising ever and
growing more excited as she went through
the story of shame and sorrow.
"Let me begin at the beginning, when
I was governess to Mr. Cass's little girl;
then I was happy and respected. I was
pretty, too. and admired. Mr. Cass was
a merchant in the city, trading in Span
ish wires—”
"What's the use of telling me all this?”
broke in Jenner, impatiently. "It is all
stale. I was a clerk in Cass's office; I
met ycu at his house when I was there
cn business, and I married you—”
"Yes. you married me." she cried,
fiercely. “The more fool I was for being
taken by your good looks and your plau
sible tongue. For my sake It was that
Mr. Cass raised you to a higher position
and gave you a larger salary. We lived
!n Bloomsbury, and there, ten years ago,
Gilbert was born; but not until you had
broken my heart, and ruined my life.”
“Come now, I was kind to you when
I was sober.”
“And were yguever^sober? No; yop
poor, weak BOMBse you had
good volco-qjjfi you were
led away by pleasure, and for months
before Gilbert was born you behaved to
ward me. in a way no woman could for
give. I was high-spirited, and I resented
your conduct—your dissipation and your
unfaithfulness.”
“You were always on your high horse.
If that is what you mean.”
“I had every reason to be on my high
horse, you brute. Remember the birth of
Gilbert—how I suffered—how you were
drunk the whole time. And when I got
better I found that Mr. Cass had dis
missed you for appropriating money.”
Jenner sneered. “Cass made a great
fuss about nothing.”
"You know'as well as I do what Mr.
Cass is. His mother was Spanish, and
he had a fiery temper. He had treated
you well, and you repaid him by taking
what belonged to him. He dismissed you.
but for my sake, because I had been his
child's governess, he did not prosecute
you." •
"Ah! I always thought you and Mr.
Cass were great friends."
"That was your own foul'mind,” cried
the woman, contemptuously. ."Mr. Cass
was an honorable man. If it had been
Ills partner, Marshall, now, then perhaps
—yes.”
”1 know all about Marshall, thank you,
Lizzie,” he said, chuckling, and his eyes
wandered to the brown horse on thq tabic.
“Thinking of your association with
him, I suppose?” she sneered. “He took
you up simply on account of your voice,
and then dropped you when he found out
what a drunkard you were.”
“Yes, he did,” said Jenner, between his
teeth. "And I swore to be revenged on
him: and some day I will. If you care to
listen. Til tell—”
“I wish to Hear nothing,” she Inter
rupted. “Mr. Marshall Is r.ot a man I ad
mire—a dissipated rake, that’s what he is.
Still, he Is Mr. Cass’ partner, and for the
sake of Mr. Cass I wish to hear nothing
against him. Besides, he Is going to
marry Miss Cass.”
“What—Inez Cass—the sister of my old
master?” cried Jenner, looking up/
“Yes. Do you know of any reason why
he should not?”
“No," said the man, slowly; “but I wish
I had known that two hours ago."
“Why two hours?”
“Oh, you don’t want to" hear anything
against Marshall, s) I won't tell.”
His wife glanced contemptuously at
him. “I suppose you mean blackmail."
she said. “Blackmail Miss Cass and Mr.
Marshall If you like. go back to gaol
If It pleases you. I n^e done with you
and with your wickedness."
“We'll see about that.” he cried.
"Don't Interrupt me, please,” his wife
said, with an Imperative wave of her
hand. T want fi; go t*t with my story.”
”1 don't want to hear cny more."
“But you shall hear to the end. Listen.
Mr. Cass dismissed you for dishonesty,
and vou took to the stage on the
strength of your voice. You know the
life you led me. I forgave you over and
over again, for the child's sake. But
it wa? all of no use. Then at last
drink spoilt your voice, and you could
get no engagements; and Mr. Marshall,
although you did not deserve It. got you
a situation In that money lender's of
fice—I forget the name—the—”
"Old Julian Rooer.”
"Yes; Jullaq Roper. You got the situa
tion four <years ago, and for a time
things went well; then you broke out
.again and stole money from your new
employer. He was not so lenient as
Mr. Cass, and he had you put in jail
for three vears.”
"Well; I'm out now.”
"You are," said his wife, and there
was intense hatred in her voice. "Out to
see how low I have sunk. After your
Imprisonment your creditors sold up the
house and furniture In Bedford-park; I
was turned out on the streets with my
child. Mr. CaSs got me a place as gov
erness: then It came out that I was the
wife of a convict, and I lost the situation.
I was driven from one engagement to an
other. Finally I came dof n here to
ask charity from Mr~ Cass. He would
have done much for me but for his
sdster. Inez is one of your cold, cruel
women who kick the fallen. She blamed me
for being your wife, and she set her
brother against me. All I could get was
this tumble-down hovel, where I live
rent free. I earn my bread by sewing for
the DeoDle in the village 2 miles off.
Sometimes Miss Cass Insults me by send
ing me broken victuals—you have Just
eaten some—and I am so poor that I
accept the scraps. Such Is my life, but I
would rather live it than go with you."
“I don't want you to go with me.”
said the man, rising. "I want to make
you happy by giving you money.”
"Have you any? "And, If so, where did
you get It?” .
“I have none just yet. but I soon
shall have. At .the present moment I
am the possessor of two coppers.” He
produced them. “But in a week I shall
have hundreds.”
"And then you will go to jail again,”
said his wife. "No, thank you. I don’t
want to have anything to do with you.
I have suffered quite enough at your
hands. How could I live with you when
the child hates you so?”
“That’s all your fault.”
“Not altogether.- as I said before His
hatred of you is prenatal; but I have
fostered that hatred until—well, you saw
how he received you tonight.”
“You are pitiless,” he said, hoarsely.
“I am—what you have made me. Do
you think I would allow my child to
love you who have treated his mother
so 111? He will never look upon you,
save with loathing and hate. I would
die for the boy; it is the strongest pas
sion of my nature, this love for him.
Do you think I would share that love
with you? No; Gilbert hates you—he
always will—and as I said before I have
done my utmost to foster his hate. Oh;
I thought I was safe from you here.
Who told you of my hiding place?”
"Marshall.” said Jenner, sulkily.
"Ah! you have seen him. And did
he speak to you—a Jail-bird?"
/'Yes, he did. I made him speak to me.”
His wife looked curiously at him and
laughed significantly. "It Is as I
thought,” she said. "You know something
about him, and you have come down to
blackmail him or Miss Cass. Well, go and
do it, and get back Into gaol if you can.
I should be g!a.d to see you In prison
again. As It Is. out you go—now!”
"I have no money—no shelter.”
“I will give you five shillings,'’ she said.
"With that you can'go to tne village Inn—
it Is only 2 miles away.”
Jenner took out his red pocketbook and
laid It on the table near the window. "I
have a pencil and paper in this,” he said.
“What you lend me I wjlll give you an
I. O. U. for. I don’t want your money.”
"I decline,” said his wife, turning from
the open window, out of which she had
been leaning. "Once the money passes
Into your hands it becomes too vile for
me to touch again. Walt here, and I will
get you the 5 shillings.”
He sprang forward, almost beside him
self, and seized her wrist. "You wretch—
I’ll give you a thrashing for this.”
Mrs. Jenner shook off his hand, flew to
the-fireplace and snatched up the poker.
"You lay a finger on me, and I’ll kill
ycu,’’ she cried, wildly. "You foul beast—
your very touch is poison. I am ret cne
woman I was to put up with your bru
tality. Stand back, you gaol-bird.”
He backed toward the open window and
began to whimper. “Don't be such a
virago,” he said. "I don’t want to touch
you. If you will give me the money I
wil go away. But you have lost the
chance of a fortune," he boasted, shaking
the red pocketbook. “I aan get hun
dreds—hundreds. "
"In the usual way," she said, and laid
Sewn the poker. "Then you will be lock
ed up again. I hope you will.”
"Can 1 not take leave of the child?”
"No. unless j'ou want him to try and
kill you again. Besides, he Js in a trance:
he will waken as suddenly as-he fell into
it. But I hope, for vour sake, that you
will be out of the house before he re
covers his senses.”
"Do you think—"
"I don't think—I know. All his life
Gilbert will Hate you. He is highly neu
rotic, and when he gets beside himself
he will do things as mad as would an
hysterical woman. He is not to be trust
ed—no more am I—so beware of us both,
and place the sea between yourself and
us.” "
"A very good Idea,” he said coolly.
"I’ll emigrate.”
“Do. Go to Sydney—which was formerly
Botany Bay. That ought to suit you,"
she taunted. “Stop there," she snatched
up the poker again, "or I, will not answer
fer myself.”
Her husband laid down the buck-han
dled knife and placed it on r the table be
side the pocket book. He had taken It up
with an oath when his wife goaded him
SAVES LIFE
Blaxd, ni„ Augusts, 190(1
t this spring and could nc
-weeks. Whsnlwaseoa
When I began to sit up I
I such terrible wki in my
t kidney trouble and fau-
rieelspella. I
received your
read Mm ad-
Wfllaxd, ni„ August-1,190(1
I was in —
•it up in l
fined my child died. When 11
felt so weak and had such ten
back and kips. I had kidney troubl
ing of the womb. I also had hysteric
was in n bad condition when I reoei*
"Ladies' Birthday Almanac" and
rent of Wine
of Caidai and Tfcedfoid’s
!Wel
Black-Draught. Since Aj
lour bottles of Wine of C
ages of ThedloTd’s Black-Draught. 18—1
April JOth.l
lour bottles of Wine of Oardui aod three pack-
1 like a
walk out to see any of my neighbors.
I would have been in the grave had it not been
r Win* of Cardui. IT SAVED MY LIFE
Mrs. ALICE DAVIS.
It Is trail that women arc more patient Him
men. Few men could bear the bitter pang*,
the agony and Astros that women endure.
Thousands of women have come to look upon
auditing as a doty of their sex. But there are
many instances of this he nib fortitude which
WINEwCARlNJI
Woman used no longer suffer for modesty's
_ i relief to modest women in di
Many of the best homes hi this city are never t
e. It cures whites and failing of the womb and
» nwsMuee sememe saw iweijoi otniw
, sake. Wine of Cardul brings relief to modest women in the privacy of their
without this great
homes.
medicine. It cures whites and lolling of the womb and completely eradi
cates these dragging periodical paint. Mrs. Davis’ cure shows you conclu
sively what you may expect If you follow her example and take Wine of
CarduL Thedford’s Black-Draught aids Wine of Cardui by regulating tho
stomach and bowels. When you ask your druggist lor these medicines, bo
sure you get them. K was Wine of Cardui and Thedford’s Black Draught
that saved Mrs. Davis’ life. Never take a substitute.
Ihe
rata—, address, siring symptoms, “The ladles' Advisory
Clrartsnooga Modlrfns Company, Chattanooga. Turn.
$12.00 to $99.00 Per Week.
Is lest week’s reports from agents wbo are now at work sell
ing our complete Lesal Adviser. A complete Lightning Calcu
lator and Farmer’s Ready lleckoner. Complete set of ootton.
grain, lumber and other valuable tables. How to measure cis
terns, lumber, logs, bins of grain. It tells all about bow to
w rite contracts mortgages, wills, liens, notes, drafts, leases,
etc. A book of 470 pages, 250 illustrations, bound.In.hall Moroc
co. Selling price, 91.50; liberal discount to agents.
Boys, an agency for this nook Is worth -more to jrou than a
good farm. Send25c for canvassing outfit. Satisfaction guar
anteed, or money refunded. Circulars and all particulars free
J. F. NICHOLS & CO., Atlanta, Ga.
—= _ ■ i-1 ii i j «m -
WHAT,THE PEOPLE BAY.
The "Busin.— Quid.” cantatas all that is
practical and useful in Gaakell’* Compendium
and other book# of like character. It ought
to be In the hands of every teacher and every
young man of anfAoIent aga to understand
bumta—» transactions; „ every farmer should
posse— a cosy. A. A. SMITH,
President Northwestern College.
8ANDBMVILLB. QA.-I have worked three
months; have orders (or over 1.500 Quid—; all
but M in best binding. _ I will clear 91H.M
per month. uvf* W. B. CAMP.
WILMINGTON, N. - C.—I bars averaged
over M orders for the Guide per day—all best
binding; have M0 ordere. B. T. OORB.
SHSFnELD. ALA—Ship me 100 half mo
rocco Guides. I have sold over 1.000 copies.
W..L- SHELTON.
Te eujeMy tutreduee Into every home enr Electric Hahn
™ exion, Toilet A Beth Soap, we offer sjm extra lares
B silk remnants ab—I—ciy free to every one inwer-
Tklnk rf It each & every one can bet 1800 extra large
remnant* from the choicest A moet expensive silks, selling
high a. $2.50a yard, the ricbeet variety of brilliant colons
exqnlstte patterns ever offered free, every piece large enough
t° be cut or worked into —lid block, of Ito • Inches square
on stand cove—, art squares, sofa Pillows, tidies, curtains.
the roval A magnificent effect so much i
gter 6v art stores, fairs A others, some selling high a.
*5?-°0 ‘ nr a single article. This ts no catch penny scheme but
a straight offer to advert!— an hone— bnsSnc.a It la a rate
opportunity A will not appear again. If you wish to take
advantage of It write at once for a package of Soap which
cleanses A beautifies tbs akin, feeds the tlsmea giving
tbe moat (allow complexion a clear youthful appearance.
isement A promptly accept the propoataon a
cksgeof Roan A write at once to toe
SOAP WORKS, It Y. City. ST Third A'
tkm you moat L ,
nn to your name A address A
It to usatonceA you will receive
ee a package of the celebrated
Electric BafinToUet A Bath Soap
_ -Which beautifies the complexion,
ear— pimples, blotches, freckles A
all facial eruptions exactly as described above, sent
. for you to try knowing yon will api
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DO YOU WANT A WATCH
Do vou want a Watch that runs and kse— good Umef This watch b—a Solid
Gold laid rasa, handsome dial, dmt proof, adjutedto position, patsot —emmem,
and highly finished. This Is a remarkable wetek. We rnsraotse It, aod with prop-
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Solid Gold one. Tbs watch is accompanied with a SO Year Gnarantoe. Tbs
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lean Style, expansion balance, quick train, and yon can rely upon It that when you
own one of these truly band—me watch— you will at all times have tbs correct Urns
in your possession. Just tbs watch for railroad men, or tho— wbo need a very do—
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one. We give it free as a premium to anyone for selling 18 pieces of oar handsome
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and we win send yon the handsome Solid Gold laid watch. We trust you and will
take back all you cannot sell. We propose to give away tbe— watches simply ts ad
vertise onr business. No catch-words in this advertisement. We mean first what wo
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for—. Address. SAFE WATCH CO., F, O. Box «80. Mew York City.
with her tongue. “Get the five shillings,”
he said, sulkily.
“It Is upstairs.” Still carrying the
poker, Mrs. Jenner moved toward the
inner door. "I can tell you so much, for
you will never find my hiding place. Walt
here.” '
When she had gone her husband re
mained by the table with his hand on the
red pocketbook. HIs eyes sought the
brown horse. "I must take you with me.
too.” he muttered. "I shall never see
her or the child again. It is better so; I
hope she won’t be long.” And he waited
In sulky silence.
Suddenly there was the cry of a human
being in pain. The light was extinguish
ed. and the mistts closed thicker round the
ruined building; it might be to hide the
sight within the room. Could the walls
only have spoken they would have shout
ed “Murder!” with most miraculous voice.
But the age of miracles being past, the
walls were dumb, and there was np
clamor to greet the horror of this deed
done In darkness. But the mists wrapped
themselves round the place of death, and
profound silence shut down on the
desolate country.
It was broken at laist by the sound of
light footsteps. Along the disused road
woman carrying a child In her arms
tore along at a furious rate- She did not
know where she was going; she had no
goal. All that she desired was to get
away from the thing which lay In the
darkness of that poor'room. Horror was
behind her; danger before. And she ran
on, on through the mists and the gloom,
pursued by the Furies. Like hounds on
the track, they drove her along the lonely
roads until the mists swallowed her up;
and thesei growing ever more dense, blot
ted out the woman, blotted out
tbe country, blotted out the Turn
pike House. But what they could not
blot out was that silent room where a
dead man lay. Better had ,they done so;
Setter had they obliterated that evidence
of evil from the face of’ the earth. But
what had been done In.the darkness had
yet to be shown In the light; and then—
but the woman fled on wearied feet. fled,
ever fled through the gloom, and the
friendly mists covered her escape.
And so did the ruined Turnpike House
become possessed of Its legend. For
many a long year the horror of It was
d'seussed beside the winter fires. The
place was haunted, and the ghost had
walked first upon that verv night when
the woman, bearing the child, had fled
away Into the darknefis.
(To Be Continued.)
- The above fim are sole owners of Kegtstered Distillery No. 22 oi the sixth District of Missouri, when writing please mention Sonsy floors.
