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1 >.r v r 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 "1 /J &■ r . ’"A % /* ,. ' >.Y : *• - 7 f. i.. V “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.