Newspaper Page Text
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Atlanta. Ga., Week Ending August 23. 1902
NUMBER TWENTY-FINE
The Mem-SaHib’s Pearl NecKlace
(Copyright, 1902.)
By A. J. KENEALY.
HE low sandy shore, fringed
to the water's edge by
lofty oocoanut palms; the
blue sea basking glassy in
the heat of the tropical
sun, without a ripple to
disturb its shining surface
save where it broke in sil
very surf on the well-
i leached beach. This was
all that presented itself to
the view of the schooner
Sea Sprite anchored that
morning 1 mile from the
shore off the port of Bimlipitam in the
Bay of Bengal. Bimlipitam is dignified
with the name of port, but it is only
an open roadstead, in which vessels an
chor and take in cargo from surf boats.
An uninteresting spot with a custom
house, a few godowns and bungalows and
a cluster of native houses. But to the
captain of the Sea Sprite, young Jack
Halstead, the r ather desolate looking set
tlement had singular attractions. Per
haps this was because of Miss Minnie
Fothergill, the fair daughter of the Mas
ter Attendant of Bimlipitam—a function
ary who ruled over destinies of the har
bor with despotic power, being the head
of the custom house and controller of the
port. At any rate Captain Halstead never
passed by Bimlipitam without anchoring,
no matter whether the wind blew fair
or foul.
Miss Fothergill was devoted to her old
father, a widower, anil after her educa
tion In England had come out to take
care of him. The Master Attendant could
have retired and passed the rest of his
days In his native land had he so chosen,
being a man of ample means. But he
found it impossible to tear himself away
from the Madras roast in spite of Its
many objectionable features. A year's
leave spent In England had disgusted
him. The climate was not what it used
to be; the cooking was vile; there were
other peculiarities of English life which
he found equally unpleasant. At home
he was a mere cipher among thousands
of other ciphers. In the custom house
at Bimlipitam he was of much import
ance. Everybody salaamed to him.
back he came to his old environment to
tyrannize mildly over the dark boatmen,
the peons in the custom house and the
officers of such vessels is might violate
-he regulations of the port. In his duty
he took a mild delight, nor did Miss Min
nie tind her surroundings uncongenial,
even after the nevolty had worn off. To
help the grave Baptist pastor in his work
of evangelizing the dark, lithe-Iinibed pa
gans who dwelt in picturesque huts some
distance from the beach she learned the
rudiments of the Tamil tongue. She
lured the boys from the false gods of the
temple near the bazaar where the quaint
idols every day received the votive of
ferings of fruit and flowers and taught
them the truth as it seemed to her in a
bungalow built for the purpose at the
back of the Baptist church. This cost
her a goodly share of her monthly allow
ance; for without generous gifts of many
pice and even annas the attendance of
the small heathen was neither large nor
regular.
With the care of Burrn Sahib, her
father, with her evangelizing efforts and
an occasional trip In the F. and O
. 1 — 'X'-V-jr* b>r
V T.
“Ramsami had indeed spoken the truth/*
steamer to Madras, where she had many
friends, the time passed pleasantly enough
in spite of its monotony. \t 'east it did
until the advent of Jack Halstead, the
ardent, the dashing, who made love to her
after the impetuous fashion of half a
gale of wind and haunted the harbor of
Bimlipitam when his schooner should
have been earning rupees, battling
against or scudding with the strong mon
soon of the hay. But as the schooner
was his own, and as he soiled her for
pastime rather than revenue,, there was
nobody who had the right to complain.
Certainly his crew of agile Lascars. who
handled the Sea Sprite with commend
able smartness under the leadership of
the Serang, the graceful and aristocratic
Obdool. did not object to Bimlipitam as
the port of call. The mangoes, the ba
nanas and tbe cocoanuts of that place are
famous, and the fish caught by the crews
of the catamarans arc not excelled by any
on the Coromandel coast for fatness,
juiciness and flavor.
Minnie was a frank, h arty girl, of no
great pretentions to beauty perhaps, but
with blight, clear blue eyes, a wealth
of sunny hair and a complexion fresh a
a f!i n'-rr. Her girl friends in Madras,
whose skins were sallow, envied her the
secret of her "make up,” l ut the only
secret was the radiant health of the
ycung woman which she brought with
her fr< m England and maintained by
exercise, simple fare and regular “tub
bing" in salt water fresh from the s> t.
She took no ‘‘whisky pegs,” no tonics.
A canter at dawn on tier Australian
mare. Brown Bess, followed by a sea
bath, put her in thorough trim for the
day's work. She. was a living example
of the great truth that Anglo-Indians on
the surf-washed Coromandel coast can
preserve the rosy cheeks and the elastic
vigor of perfect health by plain living
and abstinence from "tonics.”
She wits worshipped by many men,
young and old. who were anxious to an
nex one so bewitching and fair, but, un
til Jack Halstead had happened along,
she had never felt more than a sisterly
regard for any of her admirers.
It was now a year since the saucy S?.i
Sprite, a large topsail schooner of clip
per build and rakish rig. hail first
dropped anchor off the port. Her smart
"ynchty” appearance, the beauty of her
hull as she gracefully swung to In r
jinchor, the man-of-war-like alacrity
with which her numerous crew furled
the creamy sails and spread the snowy
awnings, showed that she was no clumsy
“country-wallah" and atftraetod every
nautical eye in range. A smart looking
whaleboat was lowered from the star
board davits and ftinnned by muscular
Lascars dressed in white smocks and
trorsers. their heads crowned with bright
red turbans, pulled swiftly ashore. The
man at the yoke lines, wearing a suit of
snowy jeans and a big sola topee or pith
helmet, steered the boat with rare skill
through the boiling surf, so maneuvering
that she was borne shoreward on the
crest of the big comber. As soon as
her stern touched the sand out sprang
her crew and, grasping at the gunwales,
they bore her up bodily high and dry on
the beach, the helmsman's white jeans
emerging sprayless from the watery or
deal. The captain hastened to the cus
tom house., transacted his business an 1
at the same time made such a favorable
Impression upon the Master Attendant
that he relaxed a little of t is official digni
ty and invited the commander of the
Sea. Sprite to dine with him that very
evening.
At the hospitable board of Mr. Fother
gill Captain Halstead met his fate in tin
form of the fair Minnie. He had never
met a maiden so fascinating. From that
moment he was her slave, lie invited nor
and her father aboard the Sea Sprite,
and both were astonished at her luxu
rious fittings and perfect accommoda
tions. Halstead had been an officer in
the British navy. Coming into a large
fortune, he was living a life of adventure
afloat on the vessel he had built for the
purpose. Like many Englishmen of fami
ly anu position, he had gone into ''trade,”
but it was of a nature more attractive
to a man of his temperament than the
smelting of iron or the curing of hams.
At the time I write of he was collecting
‘‘curios’’ in the chief ports of the In
dian and China seas, buying them for
cash and intending to either take them
or send them to some port in Europe or
America for a market. This project
furnished amusement as well as occupa
tion. Whotlc r it would be profitable
'/ s a question, that did not trouble the
young fellow much.
On the occasion of this particular visit
of the 3ea. Sprite to Bimlipatam our skip-
tier was anxious to bring his love affair
to a- crisis. Landing early in the morn
ing, he hastened to the bungalow where
his sweetheart and her father lived. He
found tile girl upset, nervous and dis
tressed. She was lamenting the loss of
a valuable pearl necklace, which was un
accountably missing from a little cabi
net in her bedroom, where she kept all
her treasures. There were sentimental
reasons for prizing this string of pearls,
as it had been a present from hrr mother.
In whose family it had long been an
heirloom. And now it was gone, with
|,iio clue as to the nature of its disappear
ance. She did not wish to worry her
father by telling him. although she felt
that it was her duty to inform him im
mediately. The necklace had been miss
ing since dinnertime the previous even
ing. Minnie had passed a sleepless night,
disturbed by her loss and trying to mus
ter up sufficient courage to break the
news to her father, whose temper, though
usually serene, was of the kind to be
come furious on great occasions such as
this.
In the early morning when her ayah re
ported that her bath was ready she also
informed her that the “Kuptan Halsy
Sahib's” ship had anchored in the roads
during the night, and might be plainly
seen from the window. Peering through
the wooden slats of the Jalousies, she
look'd seaward and there at anchor she
beheld her lover's handsome vessel. There
was no mistake. It was really the Sea
Sprite. A great weight seemed to lift
itself from the girl’s heart. Tn her joy
she blew a kiss to the beautiful schoon
er. She thought that Jack, in whose ca
pacity she had boundless faith, would
surely devise some positive method of re
covering her lost necklace. At any rate,
she decided not to breathe a word to her
father until she had consulted her ''Kup
tan Sahib."
In high spirits she plunged Into her
bath and bestowing more than usual at
tention on her morning toilet, sent or
ders to her syce that she would not need
the mare that morning. Then she look
ed after the modest wants of her father,
gave him liis early breakfast of fruit and
coffee, picked out from the box a particu
larly well made Lunkah cheroot, petted
the old chap offer her own delightful
way and sent him off to his custom house
in a charming temper. As h< departed
he happened to glance out to sea and rec
ognizing the newly arrived Sea Sprite,
turned round, and shook his finger with
a gesture of mock menace at his blushing
daughter, remarking:
“Now, i know what's the matter with
you'. There's that scamp, Captain Hal
stead, here again. It si ms to me that
he sailed away only last week!”
“Last week, papal No, he has been gone
a fortnight, next Tuesday. Really, papa,
dear, a whole fortnight! May I ask him
to stay to tiffin'/”
Mr. Fothergill chuckled, gave a smiling
assent and walked away, sprinting along
with remarkable vigor for an Anglo-Indian
of his age a.nd standing. About the time
of li is arrival at his deck Captain Jack
Halstead was paying his respects to the
Master Attendant's daughter, who told
him of her grievous loss as they sat close
together in the shady veranda enjoying
the cool, sweet sea breeze, which had just
set in.
CHAPTER TWO.
“You arc sure you have given me full
particulars, and that your ayah is not
to blame?”
"I think so, Jack,” replied Minnie. "My
maid is quite trustworthy, and she is the
only servant who has access to my room.”
"You saw the necklace in the cabinet
when you dressed for dinner last night.
Of this you are certain. When you re
tired it was gone. You questioned the
ayah and she denied all knowledge of the
necklace, which was the only article
that had disappeared. This is all the
light you have on the subject?”
Jack’s tone was very businesslike. He
had subjected his sweetheart to a keen
cross-examination and the result had been
worthless. His suspicions had naturally
fallen on the ayah, who was the only per
son whose routine of duty brought her
within thieving distance ot Minnie's jewel
case. He was perplexed and puzzled.
Suddenly a happy thought struck him.
"This is a. problem for Abdool. my
serang, to solve. I will consult him at
once.” said the "Kuptan Sahib."
Bidding Minnie a fond farewell, warning
her to say nothing and do nothing in the
matter of the lost necklace, and promising
to return in time l'or tiffin. Captain Hal
stead launched his boat and was pulled
aboard the Sea Sprite, leaving Minnie
quite bewildered at her sweetheart’s
strange behavior, and marveling at the
calling in of the Lascer serang to unravel
the mystery which had caused her so
much misery.
Abdool, the serang, was a remarkable
man in many ways—in fact, quite superior
to the ordinary run of Lascar boatswains
you see engaged in their calling on the
regular Indian liners. He was not only
a, splendid seaman, but a man of rare
intelligence. Halstead had many reasons
for properly appreciating the serang’s fi
delity to himself, ns well as his subtle
insight into the psychological mysteries of
CONTI NEED CN FOURTH PAGE.
The Hound of the BasRervilles
By A. Conan Doyle, Author of “The Great Boer War/' "The Green Flag." "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes“A Study in Scarlet, etc., etc.
CHAPTER NINE CONCLUDED.
i blood ran cold in my
veins, for there was a
break in his voice which
toid of the sudden horror
which had seized him.
What do they call this
sound?” he asked.
"Who?”
"The folk on the country
ski"?”
“Oh, they are ignorant
people. Why should you
mind what they call it?"
"Tell me, Watson. What
<1 ’ they say it Is?”
I hesitated, but could not escape the
question.
"They say it is the cry of the Hound
of the Baskervtlles."
He groaned, and was silent for a few
moments.
"A hound It was,” he said, at last,
"hut it seemed to come from miles away
over yonder. I think."
"It was hard to say whence it came."
"It rose and fell with the wind. Isn't
that the direction of the great Grimpen
Mire?"
“Yes. it is.”
“Well, it was up there. Come now,
Watson, didn't you think yourself that it
was the cry of a hound? I am not a
child. You need not fear to speak the
truth.”
“Stapleton was with me when 1 heard
it last. He said that it might be the
calling of a strange bird.”
"No, no, it was a hound. My God, can
there be some truth in all these stories?
is it possible that I am really in danger
from so dark a cause? You don't believe
it, do you. Watson?”
"No, no."
"And yet it was one thing to laugh
about it in London, and it is another to
stand out here in the darkness of the
inner and to hear such a cry as that.
And my uncle! There was the footprint
of the hound beside him as be lay. It
all fits together. I don't think that I
am a coward, Watson, but that sound
seemed to freeze my very blood. Feel
my hand!"
It was as cold as a block of marble.
"You’ll lje all right tomorrow.”
' I don't think I'll get that cry out of
my head. What do you advise that we do
now?"
"Shall we turn back?”
•'No, by thunder; we have conic out to
get our man, and we will do it. We after
the convict, and a hell-hound, as likely as
not, after us. Come on! We'll see it
through if all the fiends of the pit were
loose upon the moor.”
We stumbled slowly along In the dark
ness, with the black loom of the craggy
hills around us. and the yellow speck
of light burning steadily in front. There
is nothing so deceptive as the distance
of a light upon a pitch-dark night, and
sometimes the glimmer seemed fo he far
away upon the horizon and sometimes it
might have been within a few yards of
us. But at last we could see whence it
came, and then we knew we were indeed
very close. A guttering candle was stuck
in a crevice of the rocks which flanker
it on each side so as to keep the wind
from it. and also to prevent It from be
ing visible, save in the direction of Bas-
kerville Hall. A boulder of granite con
cealed our approach, and crouching be
hind it we gazed over it at the signal
light. It was strange to see this single
candle burning there in the middle of the,
moor, with no sign of life near it—just
the one straight yellow flame and the
gleam of the rock on each side of it.
"What shall we do now?” whispered
Sir Henry.
"Wait hero. He must lie near his light.
Let us see if we can get a glimpse of
him.”
The words were hardly out of my
mouth when we both saw him. Over the
rocks, in the crevice of which the candle
burned, there was thrust out an evil yel
low face, all seamed and scored with
vile passions. Foul with mire, with a
bristling heard, and hung with matted
ihair, it might well have belonged to one
of those old savages who dwelt in the
burrows on tbe hillsides. The light be
neath him was reflected in his small, cun
ning eyes which peered fiercely to right
and left through the darkness, like a
crafty and savage animal who has heard
the steps of the hunters.
Something had evidently aroused his
suspicions. It may have been that Bar
rymore had some private signal which
we had neglected to give, or the fellow
mav have had some other reason for
thinking tin t ail was not well, but I
could read his fears upon his wicked
face. Any instant he might dash out
the light and vanish in the darkness. I
sprang forward, therefore, and Sir Henry
did the same. At the same moment the
convict screamed out a curse at us and
hurled a rook which splintered up against
the boulder which had sheltered us. I
caught one glimpse of his short, squat,
strongly-built figure as he sprang to his
feet and turned to rt:n. At the same
moment by a lucky chance the moon
broke through the clouds. Ve rushed
over the brow of the hill, and there was
our man running with great speed down
the other side, springing over the stones
in his way with the activity of a moun
tain goat. A lucky long shot of my re
volver might have crippled him, but I
had brought it only to defend myself if
attacked, and not to shoot an unarmed
man who was running away.
We were both swift runners, and in
fairly good training, but we soon found
that we had no chance of overtaking
him. Wo saw him for a long time in the
moonlight until lie was only a small
speck moving swiftly among the boulders
upon the side of a distant hill. We ran
and ran until we were completely blown,
but the space between us grew ever
wider. Finally we stopped and sat pant
ing on two rocks, while we watched him
disapearing in the distance.
And it was at this moment that there
occurred a most strange and unexpected
thing. Wo had risen from our rocks and
were turning to go home, having aban
doned tile hopeless chase. The moon was
low upon the right, and the jagged pin
nacle of a granite tor stood up against
the lower curve of its silver disc. There,
outlined as 1 lack as an ebony statue on
that shining background, I saw the fig
ure of a man upon the tor. 1 >o not Uiink
that it was a delusion. Holmes. I assure
you that I have never in my life seen
anything more clearly. As far as t could
judge, the figure was that of a tall, thin
man. He. stood with his legs a little
separated, his arms folded, his head bow
ed, as if he were brooding over that
enormous wilderness of peat and granite
which lay before him. He might have
been the very spirit of that terrible place.
It was not the convict. This man was
far front the place where the latter had
disappeared. Besides, he was a much
taller man. With a cry of sur
prise I pointed him out to the baronet,
but in the instant during which I had
turned to grasp his arm the man was
gone. There, was the sharp pinnacle of
granite still cutting the lower edge of tile
moon, but its peak bore no trace of that
silent and motionless figure.
I wished to go in that direction and to
search the tor. hut it was some distance
away. The baronet’s nerves were still
quivering from that cry. which recalled
the dark story of his family, and lie was
not in the mood for fresh adventures.
He had not seen this lonely man upon the
tor and could not fee! the thrill which
his strange presence and his command
ing attitude had given to me. “A warder,
no doubt," said be. “The moor has been
thick with them since this fellow escap
ed.” Well, perhaps his explanation may
lie the. right one, but 1 should like to
have some further proof of it. Today we
mean to communicate to the Princetown
people where they should look for their
missing man, but it is hard lines that we
have not actually had the triumph of
bringing him back as our own prisoner,
finch are the adventures of last night,
and you must acknowledge, my dear
Holmes, that I have done you very well
in the matter of a report. Much of what
I toll you is no doubt quite irrelevant,
but still 1 feel that it is best that l Should
let you have till the facts and leave you
to select, for yourself those which will bo
of most service to you in helping you to
your conclusions. We are certainly mak
ing some progress. So far as the Barry
mores go w'e have found the motive of
their actions, and that lias cleared up the
situation very much. But the moor with
its mysteries and its strange inhabitants
remains as inscrutable as ever. Perhaps
in my next I may he able to throw some
light upon this also. Best of all would it
be if you could come down to us. In any
case you will hear from me again in the
course of the next few days.
CHAPTER TEN.
EXTRACT FROM THE DIARY' OF DIt.
WATSON.
So far I have been able to quote fniaj
the reports which I have forwarded dur
ing these early days of Sherlock Holmes.
Now, however, I have arrived at a point
in my narrative where I am compelled
to abandon this method and to trust once
more to my recollection, aided by the
diary which I kept at the time. A few
extracts from the latter will carry me on
to those scenes which are indelibly fixed
in every detail upon my memory. I pro
ceed. then, from the morning which fol
lowed our abortive chase of the convict
and our other strange experiences upon
the moor.
October 16—A dull and foggy day with
a drizzle of rain. The house is banked
in with rolling clouds, which rise now
and then to show the dreary curves of
the moor, with thin, silver veins upon
the sides of the hills, and the distant
boulders gleaming where the light stnkis
upon their wet faces. It is melancholy
outside and in. The baronet is in a black
reaction after the excitement of the
night. 1 am conscious myself of a weight
at my heart and a feeling of impending
danger—ever present danger, which is the
more terrible because I am unable to do-
line it.
And have I not cause for such a fool
ing? Consider the long sequence of inci
dents which have all pointed to some sin
ister influence which is at work around
us. There is the death of the last occu
pant of the hall, fulfilling so exactly the
conditions of the family legend, and thero
are the repeated reports from peasants of
the appearance of a strange creature
upon the moor. Twice I have with my
own ears heard the sound which resembled
the distant baying of a hound. It Is in
credible, impossible, that it should really
lie outside the ordinary laws of nature. A
spectral hound which leaves material
footmarks and fills the air with its howl
ing is surely not to he thought of. Staple-
ton may fall in with such a superstition,
and Mortimer also; but if 1 have one
quality upon earth it is common sense,
and nothing will persuade me to believe
in such a thing. To do so would he to de
scend to the level of these poor peasants,
who are not content with a mere fiend
dog, but must needs describe hint with
hell fire shooting from his mouth and
eyes. Holmes would not listen to such
fancies, and I am his agent. But facts
are facts, and I have twice heard this
crying upon the moor. Suppose that there
were really some huge liounfi loose upon
it that would go far to explain every
thing. But where could such a hound lie
concealed, where did it get its food,
where did it come from, how was it that
no one saw it by day? It must be con
fessed that the natural explanation off ,-s
almost as many difficulties as the other.
And always, apart from the hound, there
is the fact of the human agency in I, l»,
don. the man in the cab. and the letter
which warned Sir Henry against the.
moor. This at least was real, but it
might have been the work of a protecting
friend :ls easily as of an enemy. Where
is that friend or enemy now? Has he re
mained in London, or has he followed us
down here? Could he—could he be the
strangers whom I saw upon the tor?
It is true that I have had only the one
glance at him, and yet there are some
things to which I am ready to swear. ! L-
is no one whom I have seen down her",
and I have now met all the neighbors.
The figure was far taller than that of
Stapleton, far thinner than that of Frank-
hind. Barrymore it might possibly have
been, but we had left him behind us. and
I am certain that he could not have fol
lowed us. A stranger then is still dog
ging us, just as a stranger dogged us in
London. We have never shaken him off.
It I could lay my hands upon that man,
then at last we might find ourselves at
the end of all our difficulties. To this
one purpose I must now devote ill my
energies.
My first impulse was to tell Sir Henry
all my plans. My second and wisest one
is to play my own game and speak as
little as possible to anyone. He is silent
and distant. His nerves have been
strangely shaken by that sound upon the
moor. 1 will say nothing to add to his
anxieties, but I will take my own steps
to attain my own end.
We had a small scene this mornig after
breakfast. Barrymore uskf-d leave to
speak with Sir Henry, end they were
closet*-,i in his study some little time.
Sitting in the billiard room I more than
once heard the sound of voices raised, and
1 had a pretty good idea what the point
was which was under discussion. After
a time the baronet opened his door and
called for me.
"Barrymore considers that he has a
grievance,” he said. "He thinks that it
u
p
M
CONTIN'I'EID ON TTITRD PAGE