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the FLOWERS CO!!KTiON
VOLUME XI.IV NUMBER TWENTY-THREE
House of a Thousand Candles
By MEREDITH J\[ICHOLSOJ\[, Author “&/>e Main Chance ” Etc
Copyright, 1SJ05—The Bobbs-.Merrill Co.
CHAPTER XIII.
OF EAVESDROPPERS.
HEIN I came down after
dressing for dinner. Bates
called my attention to a
belated mail. I pounced
eagerly upon a letter in
Eaurance Donovan’s well-
known hand, bearing, to
my surprise, an American
stamp and postmarked
New Orleans. It was
dated, however, at Vera
Cruz. Mexico. December
15. 1901.
“Dear Old Man: I have
had a merry time since 1 saw you in
New York. Couldn't get away for a Eu-
li i: can port as I 'hoped when I left you.
as the authorities seemed to be taking
my rase seriously, and 1 was lucky to
got off as a deck hand on a south-bound
boat. I expected to get a slice of English
prodigal veal at Christmas, but as things
stand now, I am grateful to be loose even
in this godforsaken hole. The British
build g i s eager to insert its teeth in my
trousers, and I wits flattered to see my
picture bulletined In a conspicuous place
the day I struck Vera Cruz. You seo
they're badgering the government at
home because I'm not apprehended, and
they've got to catch and hang me to
show that they've really got their hands
on the Irish situation. I am not afraid
of the greasers—no (people who gorge
themselves with bananas and red peppers
cun be dangerous—but the British consul
here lias a bad eye and oven as I write
I am dimly conscious that a sleek person,
who is ostensibly engaged in literary work
: t I ho next table. .* really kfliing Dine
while lie waits for me to finish this
screed.
“No doubt you are peacefully settled on
your ancestral estate with only a few
months and a little patience between you
and your grandfather's siller. You al
ways were a lucky brute. People die just
to leave you money, whereas I'll have ta
die to get out of jail.
"I ha: o to land under the Stars and
Stripes within a few days, either across
country through El Paso or via New Or
leans—-preferably the former, as a man's
social position is rated high in Texas in
piroportion to the amount of reward that's
out for him. They’d probably give me
the freedom of the state if they knew
my crimes had been the subject of de
bate in the 'house of commons.
"But the man across the table is cas
ually looking over here for a glimpse of
my signature, so 1 much give him a
good one just for fun. With best wishes
always, faithfully yours,
“GEORGE WASHINGTON SMITH."
“P. S.—I shan’t mail this here, hut give
it to a red-haired Irishman on a steamer
that sails north tonight. Pleasant. I
must say. this eternal dodging.' Wish 1
could share your rural paradise for the
length of a pipe and a bottle! Have
forgotten whether you said Indian Terri
tory or Indiana, but will take chances
on the latter as more remotely suggesting
the aborigines."
Bates gave me my coffee in the library,
as I wished to settle down to an evening
of reflection without delay. Harry's re
port of himself was not reassuring. I
knew that if he had any idea of trying
0) reach me he would not mention it
in a lotter which might fall into the hands
of the authorities, and the hope that ho
might join me grew. I was not, perhaps,
entitled to a companion at Glenarm under
the terms oif my exile, but as a matter
of protection in the existing condition of
affairs, there cfuld be no legal or moral
reason why I should not defend myself
against my foes, and Larry was an ally
worth 'having.
In all my hours of questioning and anx
iety at Gienarm. I never doubted the
amiable intentions of my grandfather.
His device for compelling my residence at
his absurd house was in keeping with
his character, and it was ail equitable
enough. But fils dead hand had no con
trol over the strange issue, and I felt
justified in Interpreting the will in the
light of my experiences. I certainly did
not Intend to appeal to the local police
authorities, at least not until the animus
of the attack on me was determined.
My neighbor, the chaplain, had inad
vertently given me a bit of important
news; and my mind kept reverting to
the (fact that Morgan was reporting his
injury to the executor of my grand
father's estate in New York. Everything
else that had happened was tame and
unimportant compared with this. Why
had John Marshall Glenarm made Ar
thur Pickering the executor of his es
tate? He knew that I detested him.
that Pickering's noble arms and 'high
ambitions had been praised by my fam
ily until his very name sickened me; and
yet my own grandfather had thought it
wise to intrust Ills fortune and my for
tune to the man of all men who was
most repugnant to me. I rose and placed
the floor in anger. ,
Instead of accepting Pickering's word
for It that the will was all straight, I
should have employed counsel and taken
legal advice before suffering myself to
ibe rushed away Into a part of the world
I had never visited 'before, and cooped
up in a dreary house under the eye of a
somber scoundrel Who might poison me
any day, if he did not prefer to Shoot
me in my sleep. My rage must fasten
upon some one,and Bates was the near
est target for it. I went to the kitchen,
whero he usually spent his evening, to
vent my feelings upon him, only to find
him gone. I climbed to his room and
found it empty. Very likely 'he was off
condoling with his friends and fellow
conspirator, the caretaker, and I fumed
with rage and disappointment. I was
thoroughly tired, as tired as on days when
I had beaten my way through tropical
jungles without food or water; but I
wished, in my impotent anger against
1 know not wliat agencies, to punish my
self, to induce an utter weariness that
would drag me exhausted to bed.
The snow in the highway was well
beaten down and I swung off country a rd
past St. Agatha's. A gray mist hung
over the fields in whirling clouds, break
ing a way occasionally and showing the
throbbing winter stars. The walk, and
my interest in the alternation of slar-
lightcd and mist-wrapped landscape won
me to a better state of mind, and after
tramping a coupl" of miles, I set out
for home. Several times on my tramp I
lad caught myself whistling the air of
a majestic old hymn, and smiled, remem
bering my young friend Olivia, anil her
playing in the chapel. She was an amus
ing child: the thought of her further
lifted my spirit; anil 1 turned Into the
school park as I passed the outer gate
wt ih a half-recognized wish to pass near
the barracks where she spent her days.
At the school gate the lamps of a car
riage suddenly blurred in the mist. Car
riages were not common in this region,
and I wits not surprised to find that this
was the familiar village hack that met
trains day and night at Glenarm sta
tion. Some parent, I conjectured, paying
a. visit to St. Agatha's; perhaps the
father of Miss Olivia Gladys Armstrong
had come to carry her home for a stricter
discipline than Sister Theresa's school
afforded.
The driver sat asleep on his box, ami
I passed him and went on in»o the
grounds. A whim seized me to visit
the crypt of the chapel examine the
opening to the tunnel. As 1 passed t he
little group of school buildings a man
came hurriedly from one of them and
turned toward the chapel.
I first thought It was Stoddard, but
I could not make him out in the mist
and I waited for him to put twenty paces
'beween us before 1 followed along the
path that led from the school to the
chapel.
He strode into tlhe chapel porch with
an air of assurance, and I heard him ad
dress some one who had been waiting.
The mist was now so heavy that I could
an. sea iny hand before my face, and I
mole forward until I could hear tbs
voices of the two men distinctly.
"Bates!'*
"Yes, sir.”
I 'heard feet scraping on the stone floor
of the porch.
“This is a devil of a place to talk in
bur. it's the best we can do. Did the
young man know I sent for you?"
“No, sir. He was quite 'busy with his
books and papers.’"
“Humph! \Ve can never be sure of
him ”
“I suppose that is correct, sir."
“Weil, you and Morgan are a fine pair,
I must say! 1 thought he had some
sense, and that you'd see to it ilia; he
didn't make a mess of this thing. lie's
in bed now with a hole in his arm and
you've got to go on alone.”
“I'll do my best, Mr. Pickering.”
“Don't call mo ibj’ name, you idiot.
We re no advertising our business from
the housetops.”
"Certainly not,” replied Bates humbly.
The bfood was roaring through my
head, amd my hands were clenched as
I s' ood ti’.ere listening to this colloquy.
Pickering's voice was—-and is—unmis
takable. There was always a purring
softness In it. He used 'to remind me at
school of a sleek, complacent cat. and I
hate cats with particular loathing.
"Is Morgan lying or not when he says
he shot himself accidentally?" demanded
Pickering petulantly.
“I only know what I heard from the
ipardener here at the school. You'll un
derstand, I hope, that I can’t be seen
going to Morgan's house.”
“Of course not. But he says you
haven’t played fair with him, that you
even attacked him a few days after
Glenarm came.”
“Yes, and he hit me over the head with
a club, it was his indiscretion, sir. He
wanted to go through the library in
broad daylight, and it wasn't any use,
anyhow. There's nothing there.”
“But I don't like the looks of this
shooting. Morgan's sick and out of nis
head. But a fellow like Morgan isn’t
likely to shoot himself accidentally, and
now that It's done the work's stopped
and the time is running on. What do
you think Glenarm suspects?"
“I can't tell, sir; but mighty little. I
should say. The shot through the win
dow the first night lie was here seemed
to shake him a trifle, but he's quite set
tled down now, i should say, sir."
“.Me probably doesn't spend much time
on this side of the fence—doesn't haunt
,-ie chapel, I fancy?”
"Lord, no, sir! I hardly suspect the
young gentleman of being a praying
man.”
“You haven’t seen him prowling about
analyzing the architecture—"
"Not a bit if It, sir. He hasn't. I
should say. what his revered fothe'
called the analytical mind.”
Hearing yourself discussed in this
frank fashion by your own servant Is, l
suppose, a wholesome tilling for the
spirit. The man who stands behind your
chair may acquire, in time. *io:ue spe
cial knowledge of your me;,ml processes
by a diligent study of the back of your
head. But 1 was not half si angry with
these conspirators as with mysolf for
ever having entertained a single generous
thought toward Bates. It was. however,
consoling; to know that Morgan was ly
ing to Pickering, ard that my own ex-
plu'ts in the house were unknown to 'iho
executor.
Pickering stamped his feet upon the
paved porch floor in a way that I re
membered of old. It marked a conclu
sion, and preluded serious statements.
“New, Bate-,’’ ho said, with a ring of
authority and speaking in a louder key
than lie had yet used, “it's your duty
under all the circumstances to lielip dis
cover the hidden assets of the estate.
We've got to pluck the mystery from
that architectural monster over there,
and the time for doing it Is short enough.
Mr. Gler.irm v.-as a rich man. To my
own knowledge he had a couple of mil
lions, and he couldn't have -spent It all
on that house. He reduced his bank ac-"
count to a few thousand dollars and
swept out his safety-vault boxes with a
broom before his le.’t trip into Vermont,
lie didn't die with tne stuff in ills
clothes, did lie?"
“Lord bless me. no, sir! There was
little enough cash to bury him, witn
you out of the country and me alone
w.'» him."
He was a crank and I .suppose he got
a lot of satisfaction out of concealing h's
m ney. But this hurt for it isn't furt.v.
i supposed, of course, we'd dtr it up be
fore Glenarm got here or I shouldn’t
have been in such a hurry to send for
him. But it's over there somewhere, or
in the grounds. There must be a plan
• if the house that would help. I'll give
you a thousand dollar’ the day you wire
me you have found any sort of clue."
"Thank you. sir."
“[ don't want thanks, I want the
money or scar ties or whatever it is.
* ve .got to go bank to niy car now. and
you'd better skip home. You needn't
tell your young master that I’ve been
here."
I w.vs trying hard to believe, as I stood
there with clenched hands outside the
cliapel porch. that Arthur Bickering's
name was written in the list of direc
tors of one of the greatest trust compa
nies in Amerita, and that he belonged
to the most exclusive cluhs in New York.
1 had run out for a walk with only an
Inverness over my dinner jacket, and I
was thoroughly chilled by tiie cold mist,
i was experiencing,, too. an inner cold as
I reflected upon the greed and perfidy
of man.
“Keep an eye on Morgan,” said Pick
ering.
ertainly, sir."
"And be careful what you write or
wire."
"I'll mind those points, s ; r _ But r-^
suggest. If you please, sir—”
• Well'/" demanded Pickering, impa
tiently.
“That you should call at the house. It
would look rather strange to the young
gentleman if you'd come here and not
see him."
“I haven't the slightest errand with
him. And besides, I haven't time. If
he learns that I've been here you may
say that my business was with Sister
Theresa and that i regretted very much
not having an opportunity to call on
him.”
The irony of this was not lost on
Bates, who chuckled softly. He came
out into the open and turned away to
ward the Glenarm gate. Pickering passed
me, so near that I might have put out
my hand and touched him, and in a mo
ment I heard the carriage drive off rap
idly toward the village.
I heard Bates running home over the
snow and listened to the clatter of the
village hack as It bore Pickering back
to Annandale.
Then out of the depths of the chapel
porch—out of the depths of time and
space, it seemed, so dazed I stood—some
one came swiftly toward me, some one,
light of foot like a woman, ran down
the walk a little way into the fog and
paused.
An exclamation broke from me.
"Eavesdropping for two!"—it was the
voice of Olivia. “I'd take pretty good
care of myself If I were you. Squire
Glenarm. Good night!”
"Good-by!" I faltered, as she sped away
into the mist toward the school.
My first thought was to find the crypt
door and return through the tunnel be
fore Bates reached the house. The chapel
was open, and by lighting matches I
found my way to the map and panel.
I slipped through and closed the opening;
then ran through the passage with grati
tude for the generous builder who had
given it a clear floor and an ample rooif.
In my haste I miscalculated its length
and pitched into the steps under the
trap at a speed that sent tne sprawling.
In a moment more I had jammed the
trap into place and was running up the
cellar steps 'breathless, with my cap
smashed down over my eyes.
I heard Bates at the rear of the house
and knew I had won the race by a
scratch. There was but a moment in
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“She was not my Olivia of the Tam O’Shanter.’’
which to throw my coat and cap under
the divan, slap the dust from my clothes
and seat myself at the groat table, where
the candles blazed tranquilly.
Bates' step was as steady as ever—there
was not the slightest hint of excitement
in it—as lie came and stood within the
door.
“Beg pardon, Mr. Glenarm, did you
wish anything, sir?”
“Oh, no, thank you, Bates.”
“I had steepped down to the village,
sir, to speak to the grocer. The eggs he
sent this morning were not quite up to
the mark. I have warned him not to
send any of the storage article to this
house.”
“That's right. Bates." I folded my
arms to hide my hands, which were
black from contact witli the passage, and
faced my man servant. My respect for
his rascally powers had increased im
mensely since he gave me my coffee. A
contest with so clever a rogue was worth
while.
“I'm grateful ifor your gold care of
me. Bates. I had expected to perish of
discomfort out here, but you are treating
me like a lord.”
"Thank you. Mr. Glenarm. I do what
I can, sir.”
He brought fresh candles for the table
candelabra., going about with his ac
customed noiseless step. I felt a ccld
chill creep down my spine as he passed
behind me on these errands. His transi
tion from the roll of conspirator to that
of mj- flawless servant was almost too
abrupt.
1 dismissed him as quickly as possible,
and listened to his step through the
halls as he went about locking the doors.
This was a regular incident, but I was
aware tonight that he exercised what
seemed to me a particular care in set
tling the bolts. The locking-up process
had rather #ored me '»efore; tonight the
snapping cif bolts was particularly try
ing.
When I heard Bates climbing to his
own quarters I quietly went the rounds
on my own account and found every
thing as tight as a drum.
In the cellar I took occasion to roll
some barrels of cement into the end
of the corridor, to cover and block the
trap door. Bates had no manner of bus
iness in that part of the house, as the
heating apparatus was under the kitchen
and accessible by art independent stair
way. I had no immediate use for the
hidden passage to the chapel—and I did
not intend that my enemies should avail
themselves of it. Morgan, at least, knew
of it and. while he was not likely to
trouble me at once. I had resolved to
guard every point in our pleasant game.
I was tired enough to sleep when I
went to my room, and after an eventless
night, woke to a clear day and keener
air.
I m going to take a little run into the
village. Bates," I remarked at break
fast.
“Very good, sir. The weather’s quite
cleared."
“If any one should call I'll be back in
an hour or so.”
“Yes, sir."
He turned his impenetrable face to
ward me as I rose. There was, of course,
no chance whatever that any one would
call to see me; the Reverend Paul Stod
dard was the only human being, except
Bates. Morgan and the man who brought
up m.v baggage, who had crossed the
threshold since my arrival-
I really had an errand in the villae.
I wished to visit the hardware store and
buy some cartridges. but Pickering's
presence in the community was a dis
turbing factor io my mind. I wished to
get sight of him—to meet him, if possi
ble, and see how a man, whose schemes
were so deep, looked in the light of day.
As 1 left the grounds and gained the
highway Stoddard fell in with me.
“Well. Mr. Glenarm, I'm glad to see
you abroad so early. With that library
of yours the temptation must be strong
to stay within doors. But a man’s got
to subject himself to the sun and wind.
Even a good wetting now and then is
salutary.”
“I try to get out every day." I answer
ed. "But I’ve chiefly limited myself to
the grounds.”
“Well, it’s a fine estate. The lake is
altogether charming in summer. I quite
envy you your fortune.”
He walked with a long swinging stride,
his hands thrust deep into his overcoat
pockets. It was difficult to accept the
idea of so much physical strength being
wasted in the mere business of saying
prayers in a girl s school. Here was a
fellow who should have been captain of
a ship or a soldier, a lender of forlorn
hopes. I felt sure there must be a weak
ness of some sort in him. Quite possi
bly it would prove to be a mild estheti-
cism that delighted in the savor of in
cense and the mournful cadence of choral
vespers. He declined a cigar and this
rather increased my suspicions.
The village hack, filled with young
women, passed at a gallop, bound for
the station, and we took off our hats.
“Christmas holidays,” explained the
chaplain. “Practically all the students
go home.”
“Lucky kids, to have a Christmas to
go home to!"
“I suppose Mr. Pickering got away
last night?" he observed, and my pulse
quickened at the name.
“I haven’t seen him yet." I answered
guardedly.
“Then, of course, he hasn't gone!” and
these words, uttered in the big clergy
man's deep tones, seemed wholly plausi
ble. There was. to be sure, nothing so
unlikely as that Arthur Pickering, execu-
Contiuued on Fourth Page.