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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. ifei