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the flowers rr ,
VOLUME TWENTY.
Atlanta, Ga., Week Ending July 28, 1906.
50c PER YEAR—SINGLE COPY 5c.
*0i
House of a Thousand
* * * * By MEREDITH NICHOLSON, Author “75he
Candles
Main Chance,” Etc
my
Copyright, 1005—Tlio Dobba-Merrill Co.
Synopsis of Previous Chapters.
John Olerarm, aged 27 years, a young
civil engineer of roving disposition,, has
•been loft a farm in Indiana and fortune
by lvis grandfather, .John Marshall Glcn-
arm, on condition th-nt hp occupy the
place uninterruptedly for a year. Should
he fail to do so the estate reverts to a
Miss Marion Dove.roeiux, of Mew York.
Glonarm, who has spent his own for
tune and his life in seeking adventure,
and who has neglected Ills grandfather,
returns from isawopo on receipt of the
news. lie signs an acceptance, drawn
up by Arthur Pickering, the executor,
and a one-time, schoolmate of young
Glenarm. Natural antipathy has always
existed between t h- -se two. Pickering
informs G1 unarm that the fortune is
probably smaller than expected. TVe
evening of his arrival In New York,
Glonarm encounters Ea<wTenc<e Dono
van, a young Irishman Of the same no
madic tendencies as himself, and a for
mer companion of his travels. Dono
van lias fil'd from Europe where he was
mixed in a brawl and is being shadowed
•by detectives. Ido and Glonarm take
dinner at Sherry's' and there Glonarm
sees with Arthur Pickering a woman to
whom he is instantaneously attached.
He arrives In duo cotirse. at the Indi
ana plantation and is taking supper in
the queer h-tiM-finlshed "House of a
Thousand Candles," when the window
glass crashes and a bullet buries itself irr
the wall behind his head.
CHAPTER IV.
A. VOICE FROM THE DA KB.
RAN to the window and
peeped out into the night.
The wood through which
we had approa>e.hed *he
house seemed to encom
pass it. The branches of
a great tree brushed the
pones. I was tugging at
the fastening of the win
dow when I became aware
of Rates at my elbow.
“Did something happen,
sir?’*
Ills unbroken calm an
gered me. Some one had fired at me
through a window, and I had narrowly
escaped lading shot. I resented the un
concern with which this servant accepted
the situation.
“Nothing worth mentioning. Some
body tried to assassinate me. that's all,
I salj, in a voice that failed to oe
calmly ironical. 1 was still fumbling at
the catch of :he window.
"Allow me, sir,"—and he threw up the
sash with an ease that increased
irritation.
I leaned out and tried to find some clew
to mv assailant. Rates opened anoth*v
window and surveyed the dark landscape
with
"It was a shot from without, was It,
sir?’’
"Of course it was; you diln't suppose
I shot at myself, did you?”
Ho examined the broken pane and
picked up the bullet from the table.
"It’s a rifle ball, T should say."
The bullet was half flattened by its
conta# with the wall. It was a car
tridge ball of large caliber, and mignt
have been fired from either rifle or
pistol.
“It’s very unusual, sir!’’ T wheeled
as though anxious to allay my fears,
ling with the bit of metal, a troublad
look in his face. He at once continu' d,
ns though anxious to allay my rears.
“Quite accidental, most likely. Probably
boys on the lake are shooting at ducks."
I laughed out so suddenly that Bates
started bark in alarm.
“You idiot!” I roared, seizing him by
the collar with both hands and shaking
l.im fiercely. “You fool! Do the people
around here shoot ducks at night? Do
they shoot water foiwl with elphnnt guns
and flio at people through windows just
for fun?"
I throw him back against the table so
that ft leaped away from him, and he
fell prone on the floor.
“Get up!" I commanded, "and fetch a
lantern.”
He. said nothing, but did as I bade him.
We traversed the long cheerless hall ,o
the front door, and I sent him before mo
into the woodland. My notions of tr.o
geography of the rtgion were tie
vaguest, but I wished to examine for my
self the premises that evidently contained
a dangerous prowler. I was very angry
and my rage increased as I follower
Rates, who had sudd*nly retired within
himself. We stood soon beneath the
lights of the refectory window.
The ground was covered with leaves
which broke crisply under our feet.
“What lies beyond there?” I demanded.
"About a quarter of mile of woods, sir,
and then the lake."
“Go ahead," I ordered, “straight to the
lake.”
I was soon stumbling through rough
underbrush similar to that through which
wo had approached the house. Rates
swung along confidently enough ahead
of me. pausing Occasionally to hold back
the branches. i began to feel, as my
rage abated, that I had set out on a
foolish undertaking. I was utterly at sea
as :o til" character of the grounds; I
was following a man whom 1 had not
seen until two hours before, and whom
I began to suspect of all man
ner of designs upon mo. It was wholly
unlikely that the person who had fired
Into the windows would lurk about, and,
moreover, ihe light of the lantern, the
crack of the leaves and the breaking of
the boughs advertised our approach
loudly. I am, however, a person given
to steadfastness in error, if nothing else,
and 1 plunged along behind my guide
with a grim determination to reach the
margin of the lake, if for no other rea
son than to exercise my authority over
the custodian of this strange estate.
A hush slapped me sharply, and I
stopped to rub the sting from my face.
“Are you hurt, sir?" asked Bates solic
itously. turning with the lantern.
“Of course not." I snapped. “I'm hav
ing the time of my life. Are there no
paths in tills jungle?"
“Not through here. sir. It was Mr.
Glenarm’s idea not to disturb the wood
at all. He was very fond of walking
through the timber.”
"Not at night. I hope! Where are we
now?"
“Quite near the lake, sir."
“Then go on."
I was out of patience with Bates, with
the pathless woodland, and. I must con
fess, with the spirit of John Marshall
Glenann, my grandfather.
We came out presently upon a grav
elly beach, and Bates stamped suddenly
on planking.
"This is the Glenann dock, sir; and
that's the boathouse.”
die waved his lantern toward a low
structure that rose dark beside us. As
we stood silent, peering out into the
starlight, I heard distinctly the dip of
a paddle and the soft gliding motion
of a canoe.
1 "It's a boat, sir," whispered Bates,
hiding' the lantern under his coat.
I brushed past hint, and crept to the
end of the dock. The paddle dipped on
silently and evenly in the still water,
but the sound grew .fainter. A canoe
is the most graceful, the most sensi
tive. the most Inexplicable contrivance
of man. With Its paddle you may dip
up stars along quiet shores or steal
into the very harbor of dreams. I knew
that furtive splash instantly, and knew
that a trained hand wielded the paddle.
My boyhood summers In the Maine
weeds were not, I frequently find, whol
ly wasted.
The owner of the canoe had evidently
stolen close to the Glenann dock apd
had made off when alarmed by the
noise of our approach through the wcod.
“Have you a boat here?”
“The boat-house is locked and I
haven’t the key with me, sir," he re
plied without excitement.
’’Of course you haven't it,” l snapped,
full of anger at his tone of irreproach
able reaped, and at my own helpless
ness. ] had not even seen the place
by daylight, and the woodland behind
me and the lake at my feet were things
of shadow mystery. In my rage I
stamped my foot.
“Bead the way back," I roared.
I had turned toward the woodland
when suddenly there stole across the
water a voice,—a woman's voice, deep,
musical an ddeliberate.
"Really I shouldn't lie so angry If I
were you!” it said, with a lingering note
on ttie word angry.
“Who are you? What are you doing
there?" I bawled.
"Just enjoying a little tranquil
thought!" was the drawling, mocking
reply.
Par out upon the water I heard the
dip and glide of the tunoe, and saw
faintly its outline for a moment; then
it was gone. The lake, the surround
ing wood, were an unknown world,—the
canoe, a boat of dreams. Then again
came the voice:
"Good night, merry gentlemen!"
“'It was a lady, sir," remarked Bates,
after we had waited silently for a full
minute.
“How clever you are!" I sneered. "I
suppose ladies prowl about here at
night, shooting ducks or into people's
houses."
"It would seem quite likely, sir.”
I should have liked to cast ‘bin) Into
the lake, but he was already moving
away, the lantern swinging at his side,
1 followed 'him, back through the wood
land to the house.
My spirits qulcklv responded to the
cheering influence of the great library.
. I stirred the fire on the hearta into
life and sat down before it, tired from
my tramp. I was mystified and per
plexed by the incident that had already
marked my coming. It was possible to
be sure, that the bullet which narrowly
missed my head In the little dining
room had been a wild shot that carried
no evil Intent. I dismissed at once the
id*a that it might have been fired from
the lake; it had crashed througn the
glass with too much force to come so
far; and, moreover. I could hardly im
agine even a rifle ball's finding an un
impeded right of way through so dense
a strip of wood. I found it difficult
to get rid of the idea that some one
had taken a shot at me.
The woman’s mocking voice from the
lake added to my perplexity. it was
not. l reflected, such a voice as one
might expect to hear from a country
girl; nor could I Imagine any errand
that would excuse a woman'** presence
abroad on an October night whose cool
a!r inspired first confidences with fire
and lamp. There was something haunt
ing in that, last cry acroos the water;
It kept repeating itself over and over
in my ears. It was a voice of quality,
of breeding! and charm.
“Good night, merry gentlemen!"
In Indiana, I reflected, rustics, young
or old, men or women, were probably
not greatly given to salutations of just
this temper.
Bates now appeared.
“Beg pardon «'r; but your room's
ready whenever you wish to retire.”
I looked about in search of a clock.
"There are no timepieces in the house
Mr. Glenann. Your grandfather was
quite opposed 'to them. He had a teo-
ry, sir, that they were conducive, as
he said, to Idleness. He considered that
a man should work by his conscience,
sir, and not by the clock—the one being
more exacting than the other."
Ismiled as 1 drew out my watch,—
as much at Bates' solemn tones and grim
loan visage as at his quotation from
my grandsire. But the fellow puzzled
and annoyed me. His unobtrusive black
clothes, his smoothly-brushed hair, his
shaven face, awakened an antagonism in
me.
"Bates, if you didn't fire that shot
through the window, wtio did—will you
answer me that?”
“Yes, sir; If 1 didn’t do it, it's quite
a large question who did. I'll grant you
that, sir."
I stared at him. He met my gaze di
rectly without flinching; r.or was there
anything Insolent In his tone or attitude.
He continued:
“I didn't do it. sir. I was in the pantry
when I heard the crash in the refectory
window. The bullet came from out
of doors as I should Judge, sir."
The facts and conclusions were un
doubtedly with Bates, and I felt that I
had not acquitted myself creditably in
my effort to fix .lie crime on him. My
abuse of him had been tactless, to say
the least, and I now tried another line of
attack.
"Of course. Bates, I was merely joking.
What's your own theory cif the matter?"
“I have no theory, sir. Mr. Glenarm al
ways warned me against theories. ilo
said—if you pardon me—there Wa greet
danger in the speculative mind."
The man spoke with a slight Irish ac
cent. which in itself puzzled me. I have
always been attentive to the peculiar
ities of speech, and his was not the
brogue of the Irish servant class. Barry
Donovan, who was English-born, used
on occasions an exaggerated Irish dia
lect that was wholly different from the
smooth liquid tones of Bates. But more
things . than speech were to puzzle me
in tilts man. .
“The person in the canoe? How do you
account for her?" I asked.
"I haven't accounted foor her, sir.
There’s no women on these grounds, or
any sort of jorson except ourselves.”
“But there are neighbors,—farmers,
people of some kind must live along tho
lake.”
“A ifew, sir; arid then there's the school
quite a bit 'beyond your own west wall."
His slight reference to my proprie
torship, my own wall, as he put it,
pleased me.
“Oh, yes; there Is a school—girls?—
yes; Mr. Pickering mentioned it. But
the girls hardly paddle on the lake at
night, at this season—hunting ducks—
should you say, Bates?”
"1 don't believe they do any shooting,
Mr. Glenarm. It's a pretty strict school.
I judge, sir. from all accounts."
"And the teachers—they are all wo
men?"
"They’re the Sisters of St. Agatha, I
believe they call them. I sometimes
see them walking abroad. They're very
i^ilet neighbors, anil they go away in the
summer usually, except Sister Theresa.
The school's her regular home, sir.
And there's the little chapel quite near
the wall; the young minister lives there;
and the gardener's the only other man
on the grounds.”
So my immediate neighbors were Pro
testant nuns and school girls, with a
chaplain and gardener thrown in for
variety. Still, the chaplain might he a
social resource. There was nothing in
the terms of my grandfather’s will to pre
vent my cultivating; the acojiaintance of
a clergyman. It even occurred to me
that thi s might be a part of the game:
mv soul was to be watched over by a
rural priest, while, there being nothing
else to do. I was to give my attention
to the study of architecture. Rates, my
guard and 'housekeeper, was brushing the
nearth with deliberate care.
"Show me my cell.” I said, rising, "and
1 11 go- to bed."
He brought from somewhere a great
brass candelabrum that held a dozen
lights, and explained:
"This was Mr. Glenarrn's habit. He al
ways used this one to go to bed with.
I'm sure he’d wish you to have it, sir."
I thought I detected something like a
quaver in the man's voice. My gjand-
•lather's memory wr s dear to him, I re
flected, and I was moved to compassion
for him.
“How long were you with Mr. Glen
arm, Bates?" I Inquired, as I followed
tim Into the hall.
"Five years, sir. He employed me the
year you went abroad. I remember very
well his speaking of it. He greatly ad
mired you, sir."
He lea the way, holding the cluster of
lights high for my guidance up tha
broad stairway.
The hall above shared the generous
lines of the whole house, but the walls
were white and 'hard to the eye. Rough
planks had been laid down for a floor,
and beyond the light of the candles lay
a dark region that gave out ghostly
cch'ces as the loose boards rattled under
our feet.
“I hope you’ll not be too much dlsup-
V,
pointed, sir.” said Bates, pausing a mo
ment before opening a door. “It's all
quite unfinished, but o mfortabie, I should
ray. quite comfortable."
Open the door!"
He was not my host and I did not rel
ish his apology. I walked past him into
a small sitting room that was. In a way.
a miniature of the great library below.
Open shelves filled with books lined the
apartment to the ceiling on every hand,
save where a small fireplace, a cabinet
and table were built into the walls. In
the center of the room was a long table
with writing materials set in nice order.
I openrq a handsome case and found
that it contained a set of draftsman's
instruments.
I groaned alou*>. *
“Mr.' Glenarm preferred this room for
working. The tools were his very own,
sir."
“The devil they were!” I exclaimed
irascibly. I snatched a book from the
nearest shelf and threw it open on the
table. It was "The Tower: Its Early l*se
for Purposes of Defense." Eondon: 1816.
I closed It with a slam.
“The sleeping room is beyond, sir. I
•hope—"
"Don't you hope any more!” I growled;
“and it doesn't make any difference
whether I am disappointed or not."
“Certainly not. sir!” he replied In a
tone that made me ashamed of myself.
The adjoining bed roorr. was small and
meagerly furnished. The walls were un
tinted and were relieved only by prints
of English cathedrals, French chateaux,
and like suggestions of the best things
known to architecture. The bod was the
commonest iron type; and the other arti
cles of furniture wqre chosen with a strict
regard for utility. My trunks and bags
had been carried 1 in, and Bates asked
from the door for my commands.
‘‘Mr. Glenarm always breakfasted at
7.30. sir. as near as he could nit it with
out a timepiece, and he was quite punc
tual. His ways were a little odd, sir.
He used to prowl about at night a good
deal, and there was no following him.”
"I fancy I shan't do much prowling,"
I declared. ' T And my grandfather's
“The Girl Was Clearly Making a Plea of Some Sort.’
hour will suit me exactly,
bn alt fast
Bates.”
"If there.'s nothing further, sir—"
“That's all;—and Bates—”
“Of course, you understand that T didn't
mean to imply t)hat you had fired that
shot at me?"
“Yes, Mr. Glenarm."
“I beg you not to mention it. Mr. Glen
arm.''
“But it was a little queer. If you should
gain any light on the subject, let me
know.”
"Certainly, sir.’’
"But I believe. Bates, that we'd better
keep the shades down at night. These
duck hunters hereabouts are apparently
reckless. And you might attend to these
now—and every evening hereafter.”
I wound my watch as he obeyed. I ad
mit that in my heart I still half suspect
ed the fellow of complicity with the per
son who had fired at me through the
dining room window. I; was rather odd,
1 reflected, that the shades should have
been open, though I might account for
tills by the fact that this curious unfin
ished establishment was not subjecc to
;he usual laws governing orderly house
keeping. Bates was evidently aware of
my suspicions, and he remarked, draw
ing down nhe last of the plain green
shades:
"Mr. Glenarm never drew them, sir.
It was a saying of his, if I may repeat
liis words, that he liked the open. These
are eastern windows, and he took a quiet
pleasure in letting the ltght waken him.
I- was one of jiis oddities, sir.”
“To be sure. That's arr. Bates."
He gravely bade me good ntgot, and
I followed him to the outer door and
watched his departing figure, lighted by.
a single candle that lie had produced
from his pocket.
I stood for several minutes listening
to his step, tracing it through the hall
below—as far as my Knowledge of the
house would permit. Then, in unknown
regions, I could hear the closing of doors
and drawing of bolts. Verily, my Jailer
was a person of painstaking habits.
I opened my traveling case and dis
tributed Its contents on the dressing ta
ble. I had carried through all my ad
ventures a folding leather photograph
holder, containing p .Craits of my father
and mother and o' John Marshall Glen
arm, my grandt’atner, and tills 1 set tip
on the mantel in the little sitting room.
I felt tonight as never before how alone
I was in the world, and a need for
companionship and sympathy stirred in
mo. It was with a new and curious
interest that I peered Into my grand
father's shrewd old eyes. He used to
come and go fitfully at my father's
house; but my fsT'r had displeased him
in various ways that I need not recite,
and my father's death had left me with
an estrangement which I had widened
by my own acts.
Now that I had reached Glenarm, my
mind reverted to Pickering’s estimate
of the value of my grandfuther’s estate.
Although John Marshall Glenarm was
an eccentric man, he had been able to
accumulate a large fortune; and yet I
had allowed the executor to tell me that
he had died comparatively poor. in so
readily accepting the terms of the will
and burying myself in a region of which
1 knew noticing, I had cut myself ott
from the usual channels of counsel. If i
left the place to return to New York i
should simply disinherit myself. At
Glenarm I was, and there must remain
to the end of the year; I grew bitter
against Pickering as I reflected upon
the case with which he had got rid of
me. I had always satisfied myself that
my wits were as keen as his, but I won
dered now whether I had not stupidly
put myself in his power.
CHAPTER V.
A RED TAM-O'-SHANTER.
I looked out on the bright October
morning with a renewed sense of isola
tion. Trees crowded about my windows,
many of them still wearing their festal
colors, scarlot and brown and gold, with
the bright green of some sulking com
panion standing out here and there with
startling vividness. 1 put on an old cor-
Continued on Fourth Page.
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