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THE MYSTERY
OF GRASLOV
=== By Axhley Towne
Copyright, ’9CL, hy Charles 71. Ethcrtnotrm
CHAPTER I.
THE FATHER AND THE LOVER OF AN .AMER
ICAN OIRL.
THE great Trausslberian railway
had progressed as far'to the
eastward as the Obi, and
trains carrying soldiers, con
victs, sightseers, railway constructors,
laborers and supplies, with some goods
for trade with Manchuria, ran from
*n ■rr.r-h
’ • -TIV-
The possihiiith-soi this Immense line
of railway made the people of Eu
ropean Russia gasp. It opened up such
a prospect of trade as they had never
dreamed of. It gave them a speedy
entrance into a region of their domain
•the crossing of which had formerly oc
cupied months and involved much
hardship.
What a change there was from the
old sledsros or f ot trains of convicts to
the swiftly moving cars that were
drawn by the puffing, screaming loco
motives, at once a source of delight
and terror to the people whose terri
tory they crossed!
Among those who had made this
change so romarkanle a success was
James Got* ijn. au American engineer,
who La : <■: of ’..ugh of the ad
vance work of the rod.
Goruu.i vv.is a typical American,
xtady to a • my—h >r • to ? i.i; : a rail
way So ! • !-=•'■ pay was sufficient
-to make it ,;n ohject for him to take
I;,;U,g 1 : ic: V. . .....
For Franc -n! ;i -v.-.s her father’s
compau’vi. secretary ami eomfort.
Left Ui-.lhi iie>s ,:i an early age. she
had been ia a...1.t up- !-y strict aunts
■till she revolted For father had been
surveying a r iute a cress New Mexico
for a ut w road. f. tally an 1 longingly
thinking of Ids daughter In her far
away home in New York. when, 10, the
young Indy herself, then aged nineteen,
put in an appearance mounted on a
•broncho and accompanied by a lmlf
breed guide, to whom she spoke in so
authoritative a tone that lie bowed be
fore her slightest wish in abject obedi
ence. Since that day Frances Gordon
was to be found wherever her father
was.
A year and a half after they had
finished the work in Mexico they jour
neyed together to Russia, where Gor
don was to take charge of the impor
tant part of putting through the rail
way that was destined to revolutionize
the trade and commerce of the world.
This great railway had progressed as
far as the Obi river, in the government
of Tomsk, Siberia, when a meeting of
managers, engineers and government
officials was ordered at Moscow. Thith
er from the Obi journeyed James Gor
don and Frances.
Thither also journeyed Nicholas Ne
slerov, prince of the empire and gov
ernor of the province of Tomsk.
Prince Neslerov was one of the
wealthiest nobles ©f the land, was
about thirty-five years of age and had,
besides his exalted position as governor
of Tomsk, estates in various parts of
Russia, particularly a fine one at Gras
lov, in the government of Perm.
It was after the convention, which
had to do with certain concessions and
arrangements that were necessary as
the road drew near the border of Man
churia, the crossing of certain moun
tains, the bridging of certain streams,
that Mr. Gordon was preparing to re
turn to the Obi. where the western end
of his operations was laid, the opera
tions themselves reaching eastward to
Lake Baikal, in Irkutsk.
To him one day as he sat smoking at
his hotel in Moscow came Prince Nesle-
rov.
“Good morning, your excellency,”
said Gordon, who had met the prince
at several conferences and now knew
him because of the fact that the opera
tions had passed almost across his
province. “Glad to see you. When do
you return to Tomsk?"
“1 shall not be long behind you, my
friend,” replied the prince. "It is a
fact, however, that upon your answer
to a certain question which I shall put
to you depends many of my acts in the
immediate future. M. Gordon, you are
an American.”
“So 1 believe; I have beard it hinted
at.” said Mr. Gordon, wondering what
was coming.
“And I am a Russian of the Rus
sians.”
“That, too, I believe, is a well au
thenticated fact.”
"I am wealthy, a governor of a prov
ince and shall scon be promoted to a
better station. Since you entered the
rude territory in the southern part of
my government we have met frequent
ly; we have been friends.”
“Yes.” replied Gordon, rather dubi
ously. stroking his chin.
“When you needed protection, my
power protected you."
“I believe you,” said Gordon, failing
to remember the time when he needed
the protection of the prince.
“I merely express myself thus to re
call to you my friendship.” said the
prince. “Now I come to the real er
rand that brought me here. I love
your daughter.”
*“Eh!” exclaimed Gordon, rousing
himself and stiffening perceptibly.
“I repeat, sir, that I love your daugh
ter. I want her for my wife, my prin
cess.”
A cloud of smoke came from Gor
don’s lips. He was looking at a distant
church tower with eyes that saw no
church.
“You seem surprised.” said the prince.
‘‘ls it a matter of surprise that a man
should love so noble and beautiful a
young woman a.-# our daughter?”
“No,” said Gordon slowly, “and If it
were I would be used to it by this
t;U}e. Y’ou are not the first.”
A slight pallor appeared on the
cheeks of Neslerov. ’ ..
“You do not mean U*it she —your
daughter Frances—4s already promis
ed:”.
“No,** answered Gordon. “I don’t
know that she is, but I do know that
you are not the first who has asked for
her. Even now you may be too late.”
“Impossible! I have seen no one of
my—of her own—station near her.”
“We In America,” said Gordon, “look
uj>on this question of station or rank
with different eyes than you do. If n
man suited Frances, all the rank, titles
and wealth In the world would make
no difference.”
“She is different from girls In Eu
rope,” said the prince, biting bis lip.
Gordon let out a Joyous guffaw.
“I should say she was!” he said.
“Different! Why, she is a real, whole,
healthy woman. She doesn't smoke
“/ love your daughter .”
cigarettes, gamble at cards and race
after titles and wealth. Not my girl,
prince. Frances has a healthy mind
and is as noble as she is good looking.
Rut she has a mind of her own, if it is
healthy, and—well, she is my boss, I
can tell you!”
“You charm me. I am more In love
than ever.”
“Won’t do a bit of good, I tell you.
If I thought you were the finest man on
earth, my wishes would not prevail
upon Frances to marry you. She will
make her own choice, when it is made,
and it will stand,”
“Y'ou lead me to believe this choice
has already been made.”
“No, I did not mean that, prince. It
might be so, for all 1 know to the con
trary. Frances might lftve a man and
not yet be ready to tell me, although
there is nothing secretive about her.
We have each other's confidence.”
“Still it could not be possible that
she would be in love and you not know
it.”
“It might, and I will tell you why.
She has refused to marry the man 1
chose for her, the finest young man, in
my estimation, on earth.”
“Then you have already given your
allegiance to a lover.”
“1 gave it to the lover, but Frances
would not marry him. I have no ob
jection to your knowing who it is. It
is Denton, the bridge builder. Jack
Denton w as the son of one of my oldest
friends. Old Denton was at one time
worth a lot of money, but lost it
through the rascality of a man he trust
ed. Jack was a sort of geniufc and ask
ed me what profession to take up. I
told him bridge engineering. He is
one of the best at the business now
and is only twenty-five. He is out near
the Obi. The big iron bridge we are
to put across the Obi will be his work.”
“It is a fascinating profession. And
your daughter refused him?”
“Yes, and it was a great disappoint
ment to me. Jack and she have been
friends since they first went to school.
He loves her, and his love is the kind
that a father likes to see his girl get
But she won’t have him for some rea
son. Said they could never be roman
tic lovers or some such argument.
Couldn't love him because she had
known him all her life. Thought it
was easier to love a stranger, I sup
pose. who could bamboozle her.”
“And so it was broken off?”
“There was nothing to break off.
They were never engaged. She sim
ply refused him. They are friendly
when they meet —coolly so. What could
1 do? She had to have her own way.”
“A prosaic friendship such as that is
not dangerous,” said the prince. “Have
1 your permission to enter the list?”
“My permission is worthless. You
can ask Frances if you like, but it
won't do a bit of good. Y'ou are too
rich, and Frances has peculiar notions.”
“There is some one in whom your
daughter is much interested, and per
haps you have not heard. It is my duty
to inform you, although I myself do
not attach much importance to the
thing. There is a blacksmith”—
“Oh, the blacksmith of Perm!” ex
plaimed -Gordon, with a slight coldness
in his voice, as though he did not relish
having the story told him by tije prince.
"I aia fully aware of all that.”
“Does Frances—does your daughter
love that man?”
“Goodness, no! She is Interested, she
likes him and Is trying to help him.”
“Through pity, I suppose, and pity
S m leads to love.”
“Well,” said Gordon, laughing, “if it
does in this case neither you nor I can
prevent it. 1 am sure, however, the
girl is fancy free, and. as for him, he
is too simple and sensible to look upon
their friendship ns more than ordinary.
They met in this way: When the road
was crossing into Tobolsk, I wanted
some peculiar ironwork done, and she
went with me. The stature and strength
and the handsome face of the young
Ironworker phased her; and she talked
with him. She saw that he was a
magnificent specimen of a man and fit
ted by nature to adorn a higher station.
She is trying to assist him in improv
ing himself.” - t f
“You tatce tiffs very coolly,” said the
prince. Russian, perhaps
our customs are Mm d'fl'erch! that tiffs
free intercourse/ between a girl like
your daughter and a mere ironworker
seems more to me than to you. Then
you assure me there is rtothing more
than mere friendship between these
two.”
“No, 1 do not assure you of anything
of the kind. I do not know. I think,
though, if there* was Frances would tell
me. If there is, she will have her way;
if there is not. the same.”
“But if this blacksmith asked her to
marry him would yon consent?”
"I’d have to.”
“Do you consider such a thing prob
able?”
“Prince, I know as little about it as
you do. There was only one man—Jack
Denton—that I wanted for a son-in
law, and she won’t have him. Now, I
know little about her plans, if she has
any. She might flhll in love with you,
in which case I not prevent her
marrying you. If she does not fall in
love with you. I could not compel her
to marry you if I would.”
“I am pleased at your candor,” re
plied the prince. “I shall soon have an
opportunity to speak to her myself. I
trust that this conversation will not in
ternipt our friendship.”
“Nonsense! I appreciate the honor
you have done my girl. But unless she
loves you your case is hopeless.”
The prince bowed and took his depar
ture, and Gordon, laughing, turned' into
the hotel.
“I’ll have to tell her,” he said. Then,
with a sudden resolve: “No, I won’t
either.' I need the friendship of the
prince, and if she knows he wants to
marry her who can tell what trouble it
may cause?”
As Neslerov was leaving - the hotel he
met Frances returning from a drive.
“I am pleased to see you, Prince
Neslerov,” she said, offering her hand.
“And I am always glad to meet you.
Mile. Gordon,” lie replied. “Did you
enjoy your drive?”
“Yes, but I did not go far. I visited
several bazaars where books are sold.
See, I have quite a number of pur
chases.”
“You love books as well as action.”
“I love them—yes. But these are for
a friend, a young man fitted by nature
to adorn a higher statitm than the one
to which he was born. I send him
books, and he studies. Y'ou could help
him, prince. With your power, your
influence, you could do much for him.
I refer to Vladimir Paulpoff, the black
smith of Perm.”
“Y’ou are very kind to my poor coun
tryman.” said the prince, with a smile.
“To please you I will make it my busi
ness to see this blacksmith, and if
there is any way in which I may be of
use in assisting him along the lines
you suggest I shall be pleased to do
so.”
She thanked him and passed on Into
the hotel.
CHAPTER 11.
THE BLACKSMITH AXD THE PICTURE.
ON a road leading from the city
of Perm toward the forest on
the south there stood a rude
cluster of buildings, all of
them old and in a poor state of repair.
This collection of huts was the home
and forge of the Paulpoffs, ironwork
ers.
Here worked old Michael Paulpoff
and ids son Vladimir, and it had been
to this uninviting place that Frances
Gordon had come to make the chance
acquaintance of the young giant.
The huts and the surroundings were
rapidly growing even less inviting, for
nothing was being done now to keep
anything in repair.
A collection of household goods, over
which old Mamma Paulpoff watched
carefully, gave evidence that the fam
ily were about to remove themselves
and their belongings to another place.
But still the old man and the young
one were at work. The blows that
Vladimir struck were tremendous. The
iron under his hammer bent and flat
tened as the sparks shot like fireworks
to the far corners of the place. There
was a gay laugh on his handsome face
—a face that was almost childlike in
its simplicity and guilelessness.
“Oh, that will be a happy day. Papa
Paulpoff!” the young man said glee
fully, plunging his tongs into the white
fire and withdrawing a bar of iron.
“What will?” asked the old man,
looking sidewise at his son, but contin
uing his work.
“The day I can take you and the lit
tle mother to a better home.”
“We have Leon happy here.” replied
old Papa Faulpoff, looking round at the
dingy interior.
‘‘Y'es, we have been happy—we shall
always he happy, for we are simple
and require little. But with greater
comfort and more money greater hap
piness ought to come. It is flue to feel
yourself growing to be somebody in the
world —to feel yourself expand, broad-
en. It is study that does it, and work.
I think the gives die more
pleasure than the wealth. But we also
need the wealth.”
The old man sighed.
“Yes, that is good, that knowledge.
But you will grow away from us. You
will perhaps marry that American girl,
and she would not like our simple
ways.”
The hammer in Vladimir’s hand
came down with redoubled force.
“What is that you say—our Vladimir
talking of marrying?” asked the trem
ulous voice of Mrs. Paulpoff. “I came
to say that the meal is ready, and I
find—what do I find?’
“Oh, Papa Paulpoff is dreaming one
of his dreamy,” said Vladimir, with a
gay laugh.
“But Is it not so. old woman?” asked
Papa Paulpoff. “Is it not quite possi
ble that our Vladimir may marry that
handsome American girl?”
“I have seen it so,” answered the old
woman. “It seems that no voyng wom
an would take this tnterest if she did
not>v-' : - g . ...
“Oh, nonsense!” cried Vladimir. “We
are friends, She is good. 1 admire.
Why, I could almost worship her, but
I am a peasant She Ls”—
There'cani(2tlie sound of cursing out
side and the Mil of a horse's hoofs. A
shout Took ttfe old man to the door.
“Curses upon this boast!” came an
angry voice as a man about thirty-five,
clad in a nc-at riding suit, entered the
room striking his high boottops with
his whip. “I have just been thrown.
In some mysterious manner my horse,
who never stumbles, caught his foot iu
something, tore loose his shoe and hurl
ed me to the ground. The horse is un
injured, but he has lost the shoe. I
heard the sound of a smith came
to you for assistance. I ‘imist reach
Graslov tonight, and the delay is seri
ous.”
“It is long since we were mere horse
shoers,” said the old man. “The rail
road”—
“But surely you can make a shoe and
put it on. I must go forward, and Ido
not wish to lame this valuable horse.”
“Certainly, we will shoe the horse,”
put in Vladimir, wliose kind heart
could never refuse any request that
was reasonable and proper. “I will at
tend to it at once.”
“But the meal Is waiting,” said the
old woman.
“The meal is but a short distance,
and Graslov is far,” said Vladimir. “I
will shoe the horse and permit the
prince to proceed.”
“How did you know that 1 was a
prince 7” asked the stranger, looking
about him with a keen eye fhat was
full of inquiry. •'
“The horse is of the herd at Graslov,
the seat of the Neslerovs,” was the
answer. “I know the herd and think I
have shod this very horse before.”
“Good! That is better than putting
him into the hands of a stranger,” said
the rider. “Is your name Paulpoff?”
“It is. I am Vladimir Paulpoff. The
little father here is NlichaeL”
“Ah, I have heard of you. Y’ou have
guessed correctly. I am a prince. My
steward, who has charge of my estate
while I am away in Siberia, has told
me of the giant who is growing rich
working for the railroad. It is said
that you can bend an iron bar with
your hands.”
“Vladimir in response picked up an
iron bar about four feet long and an
Inch thick and bent it double with no
apparent effort.
“Good God!” exclaimed the prince.
“Are you that powerful?”
“We acquire muscle in this work,”
Y’ladimir answered, “and I was bom
powerful."
A look of wonder had spread over the
face of the prince. He sat upon a rude
stool while the other two began to pre-
“IFhat is it that you say—our Vladimir
talking of marrying?”
pare for shoeing the horse. The fine
animal was brought inside, and he,
like his noble master, seemed surprised
at his surroundings.
The old woman, patient now under
the rebuke of Vladimir, stood waiting.
“This is not much of a place for suc
cessful men,” said Neslerov, looking
around him.
“Ho!” chuckled the old man. “You
have come too soou. See, nothing is
being done. We are about to leave this
place for a spot nearer the railway.”
“Business is not good, then?”
“Oh. is it not?” said Vladimir. “When
one has a powerful friend to send the
ironwork to him, it is easy to get along.
We shall have a fine shop and ten men
employed in the work. Instead of this
hovel my father and mother shall live
in a fine house, and my father shall
work no more. I shall make money for
all.”
“Ah! Then I suppose you will be get
ting married?”
“That is f something I have not thought
of. I do not know.”
“Somebody else knows,” chuckled the
doting Papa raulpoff. “There is an
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American girl who thinks well of
our”—
“Hush!” exclaimed Vladimir impa
tiently. "You are speaking of some
one whose name must be sacred.”
His face was flushed, and Neslerov
looked at it searchingly.
“You are very fortunate,” said Nesle
rov jokingly. “I can get no one to mar- (
ry me.” t
“You but jest. Any one would be'
pleased to marry one of Russia’s
wealthiest princes.”
“But such a one!” continued the in
discreet old man. “She is beautiful,
she is rich, and she sends him^ooks.”
“Good! She is educating you. She
must love you,” said Neslerov.
“Oh. as to love, that is different. Her
acts are kind, and I feel grateful. But
for marrying —it will require a fine
man to make her happy.”
“He will make any one happy,” put
in the old woman, with a glance of
pride at the young giant. “Any girl,
even though she might be a princess,
would get no better for a husband.
Look at those arms! Can they not pro
tect ?”
“They could fell a bull!” said Nesle
rov. “How do you pass the time here?
Do you go to the nearest village or to
Perm and play?”
“Not he!” said the old man, pausing
long enough in his work to add his
tribute to this son they loved so well.
“That young man spending his time at
a village! I think not, your excellency.
With his books he spends his nights.
He studies or be paints.”
“What’s that? Paints!”
“Aye, indeed yes. He is a born paint-'
er.”
“And shoeing horses?”
“One gets a kopeck or two for shoe
ing horses. One must paint for the
pleasure of it, unless one is well known.
It will come in time,” said Vladimir.
“See, he is not so simple as he looks,”
said Papa raulpoff, nodding his head
toward the big boy.
“Very far from simple, I should say,”
answered Neslerov.
“Old woman!” shouted Papa Paul
poff suddenly, so suddenly that she
jumped in alarm. “Go get the picture.
Let the prince see the face of her who
is so kind to Vladimir.”
The old woman obeyed and ran -out.
“Her picture! You have her picture
painted!” stammered Neslerov.
“Y'es. I, and the good part of it is
that she knows nothing of it. I shall
give it to her when she comes again to
see us.” said Vladimir.
“But Ido not understand. How could
you draw a face without having it be
fore you ?” asked the prince.
“Ha! It is never from my sight. The
most beautiful face! A face that one
could not forget. I drew it—l painted
it —two —three and four times from
memory, and always alike.”
At this juncture the old woman re
turned with a picture in a frame. Si
lently she handed it to Neslerov. He
sat with it in his hands, gazing down
hungrily upon the features he knew so
well. It showed two things—first,
that there was. undeveloped in the
young man, a talent that would make
him famous if it ever got a chance; sec
ond, that he must have the picture of
the girl indelibly in his mind to paint
so true a picture from memory. And,
knowing Frances Gordon, Neslerov
knew that this man was a most dan
gerous rival for her hand.
“But that is not all he has done,” said
the old woman exuftingly.
“Pshaw!” exclaimed Papa Paulpoff.
“He has done nothing else worth men
tioning.”
Vladimir looked up in surprise and
caught 8 swift look of warning flashed
from Michael’s eyes to those of his
wife. The warning flash was also seen
by Neslerov, and his curiosity was
whettvd.
“Surely this cannot be all,” he said.
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“Such a talent must have an outlet.
There must be something else. Come!
I will look at all you have and buy
what I want”
“But not that.” replied Vladimir. “I
could not sell that”
“But another of the same face?”
“No, I could not sell that face.”
“Then let me see something else—
something as good as this-—and I will
buy It.”
“There is another woman’s face”—,
began Mamma Paulpoff.
“Y’es, and as beautiful a fa-ee as this,
but a Russian,” added Vladimir. “It
was a picture. Tapa Paulpoff had it
I found it one day and painted one
from it.” •
“Show it to me,” said Neslerov.
His eyes were fixed on the face of
Vladimir with something like fear in
them now. He glanced from one to
another of the group.
Papa Paulpoff showed evidences of
nervousness, but Vladimir was eager
to satisfy the prince. He sent the old
woman for the other portrait.
She brought it and placed it in the
hands of the prince. At the first glance
his face went white to the very lips.
His hands shook. His fra me .trembled.
“Good heavens!” was breathed under
his mustache. The words were not
heard, but the manner of the man did
not escape Tapa Paulpoff.
“Who is this—it is a beautiful wom
an—but her name?” asked Neslerov,
and his voice had turned suddenly
hoarse in spite of the effort to control
himself.
“I found a small picture one day aft
er a party of nobles passed by,” an
swered Papa Paulpoff.
A swift glance of suspicion shot from
the eyes of Neslerov to the face of Papa
Paulpoff. But the old man’s face was
perfectly impassive.
“I will buy this. Name your price,”
said the prince. “And I will buy the
other, the one you found.”
“Alas, it is lost!” exclaimed Papa
Paulpoff. “It was in a small house we
had years ago, and it burned down.”
“And the picture destroyed?”
“Alas, yes. It was so pretty, a noble
woman, perhaps even a princess,” said
Papa Tnulpoff. “I wept like a child
when it was lost”
Tears came into his eyes now at the
remembrance of it.
“I will buy this. How much do you
ask for it?” he asked of Vladimir.
“On second thoughts, it is not for
sale,” Vladimir answered.
“I do not wonder,” he said. “It is a
beautiful face. We do not have them
in this part of Russia. In St. Peters
burg, perhaps.”
He shot a glance at Papa Paulpoff
as he spoke, but the old man was bend
ing down putting the hot shoe on the
horse’s hoof.
The job finished, there remained
nothing but to pay the Paulpoffs and
depart The prince did this, bade them
a pleasant farewell, mounted his steed
and rode away.
“Explain the mystery!" cried Vladi
mir. “You have not lost the picture!
You' commanded me never to lose it!
Why the lie about the fire?”
“The picture,” replied Papa Paulpoff,
turning white under his thick beard,
“is that of a noble lady who was a
friend of my family and whom we as
children worshiped as a saint. I dc
not want to lose it That prince seem
ed to know who she was, and I did not
want him to get the picture, so I Med.
Old woman, what about that dinner?
“It awaits,” said Mamma raulpoff.
“Then come. I am famished. If one
speaks to me to disturb me eating, I
will use my foot.”
Once at the table, Papa Faulpoff at
tacked the meal with the rude manners
of the uneducated Russian, and the old
[CONCLUDED ON SEVENTH PAGE.-.: