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She was sitting astern, in a pretty
frock of blue and white, and a big
hat shading her eyes from the sun.
She was reading a book -while waiting
for the boat to start. The Spray, a
small pleasure steamer, tugged at her
mooring ropes off Brighton pier.
The Honorable Geoffrey Mannering
watched, from the deck of the West
Pier, this fragile figure of a girl. There
was something more than admiration
in his gaze.
"I’ve been caddish enough,” he mut¬
tered. "The girl is scarcely more than
a stranger to me. The loan of an um¬
brella in a soaking downpour made us
acquainted. I should not have presum¬
ed upon such a triviality, hut—but”—
he broke off as the siren of the Spray
shrieked impatiently—“but I fell in
love with her upon the spot,” he added,
“and that’s the plain, sweet, madden¬
ing truth.”
A band commenced to play softly
under the bridge of the boat. Verna
Moore glanced up at the sound, and
Geoffrey turned away swiftly, moving
off with long strides.
“I must not go; I must not, really."
he told himself. Heaven forbid that
I should win her heart!”
Verna had seen Geoffrey as he
turned away. A glow of color swam
into her cheeks, followed by a look of
disappointment.
Verna Moore was a governess. She
had been sent to Brighton to recover
from the effects of an illness. She
had met Geoffrey Mannering there for
the first time.
“Yes, I’m in love; but, having made
the confession to myself, I must forget
it, drop this affair like a hot coal,”
Geoffrey told himself. “It is just mad¬
ness, and Claire coming down to
Brighton to-day!”
Madness, it was. For the Hon. Geof¬
frey Mannering was engaged- to be
married to Claire Ashberry, a baro¬
net’s daughter, and an heiress. It had
been an early' attachment; it had grad¬
ually developed into an engagement,
partly' because everyone expected that
it would, and Society insisted upon it.
yet now, Geoffrey remembered certain
ished. Maunering’s resolution bad
broken down at the last moment. He
would make the trip to Worthing after
all.
• »*•*•*
“Put your hands higher up, Verna,
nearer to my neck. We are safe if
you keep still."
The swimmer rose on the crest of a
long green swell, travelling shoreward.
A terrible explosion had occurred in
the engine room of the Spray. She
had sunk in less than fifteen minutes,
with her return journey but half ac¬
complished. There had been no panic,
but her two boats -were filled to the
very gunwales with their human
freight. Six men were venturing to
sw'im to meet the boats, putting off
from the shore. Geoffrey Mannering
was one of them. He had assured
Verna of his ability to save her if she
would trust herself to him rather than
to the overladen boats.
Verna kept perfectly still. Her feet
trailing in the yvater gave her a terri¬
fying sensation as of floating upon in¬
finite depth.
The strong frame of the swimmer
supporting her moved forward with
its steady strokes. How calm he seem¬
ed; how confident! At that moment she
loved him most; yet at that moment
she knew that she might never be
his.
On the return journey to Brighton,
Geoffrey had told her all; had made
his confession. He had said: “I love
y'ou; loved you from the day that wc
met. “That is all my defence.”
There had been a long and dreadful
pause, yvhile she wrestled with her
paiu, with her temptation. Then she
had answered: “We must say goodbye.
We must never meet again. When we
land, we must shake hands for the last
time. You could not help loving me
any more than I could help loving you.
Yes, I love you; but this is a barrier
which we cannot overcome.”
And then, almost immediately after¬
wards, the accident had occurred. The
sea was very cold; the warm suns of
summer had not yet penetrated its
chilly bosom. He was becoming stiff
‘IT WAS NOT OOOD-BYB — AFTER ALL!”
words which Claire Ashberry once
spoke to him.
“I have always liked you,” she had
said, “and am willing to become your
wife; yet I must tell you that anoth¬
er—you need not know his name—
awoke a feeling deeper than liking, and
claimed my heart. But there were ob¬
stacles in the way; my parents came
between us, and he went abroad, prom¬
ising never to see me again.”
Again the Spray shrieked for more
passengers for her trip to Worthing.
She would start in five minutes. Geof¬
frey hesitated.
A hand was laid -upon his shoulder,
and a voice said, speaking in a low
tone:
“Why, Mannering, is it you?”
Geoffrey turned. He was face to
face with an exceedingly handsome
man.
“Molyneux—you! ”
“Hush! for heaven’s sane!” expostu¬
lated the other, turning pale.
“Ah! You are watched—as usual?
Still playing your deep and perilous
games? tight
“Yes, yes. I’m in a bad fix, a
corner, I must hide for a spell.”
“What—in England? In Brighton? I
could understand it in Vienna—where
we met last six years back. A political
spy who steals a secret from the Aus¬
trians might as well be in Vesuvius
as on Austrian soil, and-”
“No, you are wrong, I’m wanted in
England. Certain papers I obliged the
German Government with. You under¬
stand?”
Geoffrey drew back, his face flushed
with anger. “What!” he- exclaimed,
you stooped so low as that?”
“A fortune was in it.”
“You traitor!”
"Curse it! Speak quietly, i belong
to no nationality. I serve all who ask
me. You know that. Come, hide me
somewhere! For old times’ sake!”
A hell clanged on hoard the Spray.
Geoffrey snatched at his card case,
scribbling a line. “There,” he said,
"go to the Hotel C—, give my man
that card. He’ll look after you until
X come.”
“A thousand thanks, Geoffrey. If
ever—’* The sentence was left tmfln-
“Again!” growled Molyneus. “I seem
unable to give that brute the slip.”
Through the open window ho heard
the roar of a motor-car. It ceased as
it drew near to the building. Up and
down paced the fugitive, fuming and
fretting.
Suddenly he turned swiftly. The
door was open, and he heard the
voice of Geoffrey’s servant:
“Mo, he will not be long, madam;
and if you will wait—ah. X had for¬
gotten.”
A well-dressed and beautiful figure
entered the room. Seeing Molyueux,
she uttered a sry of astonishment.
Molvneux, whose feelings never be¬
trayed him, turned to the servant and
dismissed him with a couple of words.
Then he faced the newcomer; he took
her hands; he looked tong and ardent
ly into her face, which paled, then
burned with crimson.
“Claire! You here? After all these
years!”
The woman trembled. In a moment
the deeps of a passion she believed she
had scaled forever, broke forth. She
clung, almost fainting, to his broad
shoulders. Richard Molyneux it was
whom she had loved in the fiast. He
exercised au extraordinary fascination
over Claire Ashberry,
“1 came to see Geoffrey,” she ex¬
plained hurriedly. “I am staying at
Hastings. He expected mo at Brigh¬
ton to-day. I came over to tell him
that I must defer my visit. That is
all. And you—you—what are you do¬
ing here, in this room? Geoffrey's
room?”
“Didn’t you know that he was a
friend of mine?”
“A friend—to you?” Claire disengag¬
ed herself from those strong arms.
“I in. t him two hours back. He,
promised to bide me.”
“To hide you?” The voico rang out
in alarm. “True enough.”
Molyneux laughed bitterly. “Come
here,” said be, drawing her to the win¬
dow. “You sco that man—ah, there are
three of them. Trapped!”
Forgetful of everything save his
danger, Claire Ashberry clung to Moly
neux’s arm. “Who are they, Richard?
Who are those men?” she demanded
imperiously.
“Police officers. Let mo go, dear one.
Yes, the old game. State papers; a se¬
cret sold. You’d better let me go. I
must escape.
“You must escape; you shall!” cried
Claire, wildly.
“How?” The thing's impossible. If
I had a fast car—”
ing for me. Come—oh, como quickly!”
she implored.
For an instant Molyneux stood irres
solute; then ho said quite calmly:
“I will. And you?”
“I go with you,” said Claire steadily.
“I shall strike northward into the
Dove r road, if possible, and quit Eng¬
land to-night,” he answered.
“Where you go, I go also,” said
Claire.
They ran from the room. -Tlio car
waited at the rear of the hotel. A
minute later they were flying like a
gale down the King’s Road.
“You mean to tell me, Clarkson, se¬
riously, that I have been in bed three
days?” 4
“Three days, sir,” answered Gooi
frey’s servant.
“A queer yarn, this, that you tell me
about those two visitors,” went on
Geoffrey, thoughtfully. “They went off
together, you say? Geoffrey broke the
seal of the letter which had just ar¬
rived, and which bore a foreign post¬
mark. He sat as if stunned, while bis
eyes read again and again one jiassago
in the communicaUon:
"Call my conduct madness, or by
whatever term you will. I cannot fight
against fate. 1 have married Richard
Molyneux. Wo shall live abroad, lie
has promised me many things. Forgive
me, Goeffroy; or if you cannot forgive,
forget me.”
Geoffrey rose after a long silence.
He turned his steps toward the Old
Steyne, but he had not covered a hun¬
dred yards before he saw her—Verna—
sitting on a chair oil the Brunswick
lawns. She was looking out to sea. A
gorgeous sunset had purpled the wa¬
ters of the channel.
Geoffrey went up to her, softly, slow¬
ly, so that she did not hear his ap¬
proach. And, leaning over her chair,
suddenly, he whispered in her ear:
“Verna, it was not
with cold. The girl’s weight, which
had felt so light at first, now pressed
him lower and lower . The sea kept
washing over his face. Onward he
swam, though drawing now upon that
strength which despair will give. At
a furlong from the shore he was seen.
A boat turned his way. Then came
a final struggle to keep afloat. He was
dragged on board with his burden
when at the point of utter exhaustion.
The journey shoreward gave him
time to recover strength. With his
own hands he lifted Verna into a cab.
They were driven to 'ncr lodgings in
Old Steyne. He took her in his arms
and gave her one long, passionate kiss.
Then, with a repressed sob, he left
her. He was never to meet Verna
again. She had pointed his way of
duty, and he must follow it.
Geoffrey turned his steps toward his
hotel.
It was afternoon. A procession of
every conceivable kind of carriage
rolled along the King’s Road. By the
Brunswick lawns, tearing along the
front at a mad speed, came a powerful
motor car. The driver was a man, and
at his side, closely veiled, sat a lady.
Scarcely perceiving the rushing car
Geoffrey crossed in front of it. A loud
shout and a furious bellow from a horn
made him look up as he dashed for¬
ward.
Surely he knew the driver? And that
veiled lady? Something in the poise of
her body suggested a name—but no,
he tohl himself that, he was half silly,
nearly dropping with fatigue.
Geoffrey staggered into his rooms
His valet met him just, in time to save
him from falling. For at that mo¬
ment his senses left him, and he lost
consciousness.
**•••••
It was an hour before the accident
which sank the Spray In six fathoms
off Brighton beach.
Richard Molyneux, ex-army officer,
gamester, spy, duellist, waited in much
perturbation in Geoffrey’s private sit¬
ting room at the Hotel C-.
Molyneux noticed that the space be¬
tween the portico grounds and the
distant sea was patrolled by a gen¬
tlemanly-looking fellow.
of nn Old-Timer in
the Wilds of Idaho.
“In the winter of ' 07 ,” said an old
now in Uncle Sam’s service,
Washington, “ 1 was living in a
by myself in the mountains of
Idaho, about seven miles from Idaho
City, my nearest and only neighbor
the postmaster, an Irishman and
bachelor, who kept the toil house be¬
tween Idaho City and the adjoining
mountain towns.
“My cabin was about two miles
to the East, directly among the
mountains. The snow which had
been falling at intervals for several
months, lay about 10 feet on a level
around my cabin, and my only
method of travel was by snow shoes.
“1 had made my tri weekly run to
see if tlie stage had brought any let¬
ters to the toll house for me; and
while adjusting m.v snow shoes, pre¬
paratory to starting hack, I heard a
bellowing and pawing. A Texas
steer, which had separated himself
from the herd which had lately
passed toward the town, was angrily
shaking his bead at me about 100
feet distant, lie had run past the
house from the road up the little
straight path which Pat had kept
open to his spring, and after drink¬
ing and turning around, had become
bewildered, the enow being at least
eight feet deep on either side of the
path.
“This was my direct route home,and
although, if I had kept on top of the
snow, lie could not have pursued me,
the spirit of my scln>ol-lx>y days re¬
vived, and I removed my snow shoes
and immediately made two little ley
snow halls. At right angles with
the path to the spring another and a
similar path laid been cleared to a
cabin about the. same distance from
the toll house. As 1 fired tlio two
.
MALL A LASH FOR TUL CABIN
halls In rapid succession, striking
him with one in his eye, and with
on the
ugain bellowed with rage, and lower¬
ing his read, made a rush for me.
Of course I could have simply turned
and gone in the toll Ihouse, but I
thought to prolong the excitement,
and so made a dash for the cabin.
As. 1 neared it, 1 saw with dismay
that: it was unoccupied and fastened
with chain and padlock on tlio out¬
side. The path ended at the cabin
with ten feet of snow piled at my
left and in front, tlio walls as smooth
anil perpendicular as a house.
“One thinks quickly at such mo¬
ments, and (lie ridge pole which usu
ally extends from miners’ cabins a
foot or more beyond the main build¬
ing on which to bang meat and game
proved my salvation, 1 do not know
bow high a jump I made to grasp it,
but Y am sure that I never equaled it
before or since.
As 1 swung my beefy over the pole
the horns of the infuriated animal
ripped off tile lower part of mv out
w °" ll( ' n shirt, end wliilo 1
umi smiled 7 down 1 serenely from
of vantage, I most: devoutly mv point
the good Lord that He thanked
1 WUtcb never fails to
and fools!” ovor dru,,k ’’ u men
WHEN LOST IX THE WOODS.
If You Have an Axe, You May Not
Have a Bad Time.
To gi-t lost in the woods 1 s not an
uncommon occurrence, and what to do
under the clri umstaneos is so well told
by Horace ICephurt in “Field and
Stream” that readers fonil of camping
anil woodcraft will tie Interested:
“The first tiling that one should do
when he realizes that he has lost his
bearings in a wild country Is to stop
and sit down. Don’t take one more
step until you have recovered your wits
so that you can trace on the ground
with a stick your probable course
since leaving the camp, and mark on It
the estimated location of such water¬
courses and
have passed. Then make up your mind
that if you must stuy out all night,
alone In the woods, it is no killing
matter, but likely an Interesting ad¬
venture. Having recovered your men¬
tal balance, take note of the lay of the
land around you, the direction of its
drainage, the character of its vegeta¬
tion, and the hospitalities that It offers
to a night-bound traveler, in the way
of drinking-water, sound down wood,
natural shelter and browse. Then
blaze a tree on four sides—-make big
blazes that can be seen from any di¬
rection. Do this even though there be
several hours of daylight ahead, and al¬
though you have no present intention
of staying here; for you do know that
this spot is only so many hours from
camp by buck trail, and that you may
have good reason to return to It.
“Now try to get an outlook over the
surrounding country. In flat woods
this will be difficult. If you can risk
climbing a tall tree do so. Select one
that you ean climb, and having gained
your outlook, note the compass direc¬
tion of watercourses and other land¬
marks, mapping them on a hit of
paper, for a lost man’s memory Is
treacherous. The courses of small
streams show where the main valley
lies. Decide where to go, take the com¬
pass direction, note how the sun strikes
it, and descend.
“Now, as you travel, make bush
marks by making blazes on trees fir
breaking a shrub here and there along
the trail, so you will easily follow your
way baek should you have to pass the
night la the woods.”
Americans Going to Mexico.
During the last two years over 1.500
Immigrants from Oklahoma and other
parts of the Southwest have located
In the single .State of Tamatilipas,
Mexico. They have made a settlement
known as the Blaylock Colony, Just
west of Escandon on the Gulf Rail¬
way, and have built churches, school
houses and stores, and enjoy the
fullest liberty of action. Ho It seems
that Americans are crossing tho
southern boundary as they axe the
northern one to Canada.
LION AGAINST TIGER.
Greater* Bravery Shown By the
Smalle-r Animal.
The owner of a one-ring circus trav¬
eling through the West this summer
found himself in sore straits through
the death of a much advertised iipn
which was the star attraction of Vie
show. With a fertility born of ne¬
cessity he advertised in the nearby
papers for a “brave man.” A good,
strapping Irlsnman applied for the po¬
sition.
“My pet lion has just died,” said the
showman, “and I will give you
a day if you will robe yourself In his
skin and go through his tricks. All
you have is two performances a day;
cash money.” The Irishman readily
assented to the proposition and being
of bright wit and intelligence soon
learned all that was required of him.
The first afternoon of the show he
went through the paces well, enclosed
in a large iron cage and occasionally
emitting a roar to startle the guileless
countrymen. In the evening the man¬
ager thought he would cap the climax
by announcing to the audience that be
would place the lion in the tiger’s
cage. On hearing this the son of Erin
was terrified beyond comprehension.
However, with trembling steps he went
into the tiger’s cage, hut at once crept
up into a corner, praying to himself.
“Faith, God help me in this terrible
trouble,” he moaned. “Kape away
from me the scratches of the big cat.”
“G’wan,” snaking replied the tiger, “phwat
yer up there like that, ain’t
meself too a wearer of the green?”
Flight of Balloons.
On his recent visit at, Ostend, the
Shah of Persia had a whole lot of fnn
when he cut a string holding 100 toy
balloons which a woman was offering
for sale. He laughed heartily at her
distress, but later paid her amply for
'As joke.
COFFEE
DOES
HURT
Make the trial yourself—leave off
Coffee 10 days and use
POSTUM
FOOD COFFEE
in its place.
That's the only way to find out.
Postum is a sure rebuildcr and when you cut out the
.coffee and use Postum instead, you get a taste of
.health, for the aches and ails begin to leave.
You may THINK you know, but you don’t/'
■until after the trial. Remember-^
’There’s a Reason.’*
[Cot Ilia Milo book. •■This Roxd to Wensvlllo, 1 ’ In ouch pic®.
THE RACYCLE SPROCKETS
Lika No. 2 Grindstone are Hung Between the Bearings
A* 1 ( J yic/cki) /I?2
1 Which Stone will Turn Easier'?
Tho Racycle Rides Fur ther with one-quarter less work
MIAMI CYCLE & MFC. CO.
MIDDLETOWN, OHIO.
OLDSMOBILES THE CAR
for 1905 THAT GOES
Highest Workmanship. Lowest Prices*
Cars for Immediate Delivery.
01ds Motor Works
DETROIT, IVIICH.
international Harvester Co.
GASOLINE ENGINES
When equipped with an I. II.C. gasoline engine, tho farm, the dairy, tho
mill, tlio threshing machine, or the busker and shredder can bo operated more
economically tlmu’with any other power. Farmers who this have work water minimum to pump,
wood to saw, fee l to grind or com_to.8h.cU, can do at a,
tost with X. II. U. engines.'-'...
I. H. C. HORIZONTAL ENGINE
I, H. C. gasoline engines are made in the following sizes : 2, 3 and 5 It
P., vertical type, stationary; 0 , 8, io, 12 and 15 H. P., horizontal type. Stat¬
ionary; and 0, 8, 10, 12 and 15 II. P., horizontal type, portable.
WRITE FOR GASOLINE ENGINE BOOKLET.
International Harvester Co. of America
UncorporiteU;
7 Monroe Street Chicago, 111.. U. S. A.