6
The Man on J
the Box J
& By HAROLD MacGRATH \
m Author of"The Grey Clorik," "The
Puppet Crgwu."
Li « J
: Cop)light, 1904, The Bobbs-Merrill Company.
CHAPTER XV.—CONTINUKD.
1 low adroitly he had sown the seed! >
At that period he had no positive idea j
upon what kind of ground he had cast |
it. But he took that chance which all |
-far-sighted men take, and then
waited. There was little he had not
learned about this handsome American
with the beautiful daughter. How he
had learned will always remain dark to
nu\ My own opinion is that he had
been studying him during his tenure
of office iu Washington, and, with that
patience which is making Itussia so
formidable, waited for this opportu
nity.
I shall give the Russian all the jus
tice of impartiality. When he saw
the girl, he rather shrank from the
affair. But he had gone too far, he
had promised too much; to withdraw
now meant his own defeat, his gov
ernment's anger, his political oblivion.
And there was a zest in this life of his.
lie could 110 more resist the call of
intrigue than a gambler can resist the
croupier's "Make your game, gentle
men!" I believe that he loved the girl
the moment he set eyes upon her. Her
beauty and bearing distinguished her
from the other women he had met, and
her personality was so engaging that
her conquest of him was complete and
spontaneous. How to win this girl
and at the same time ruin her father
was an embarrassing problem. The
plan which finally came to him he re
■pelled again and again, but at length
'he surrendered. To get the parent in
his power and then to coerce the girl in
case she refused him! To my knowl
edge this affair was the first dishonor
able act of a very honorable man.
,But love makes fools and rogues of us
all.
When the American returned to the
world, his cigar was out and his coffee
was stale and cold.
"A million francs!" he murmured.
'"'Two hundred thousand!"
The seed had fallen on fruitful
ground.
CHAPTER XVI.
THR PREVIOUS AFFAIR.
Mrs. Chad wick had completed her
toilet and now stood smiling in a most
jfriendly fashion at the reflection In
jthe long oval mirror. She addressed
ithis reflection in melodious tones,
j "Madam, you are really handsome:
land let 110 false modesty whisper in
iyour ear that you are not. Few women
in Washington have such clear skir,
such firm flesh, such color. Thirty
eight? It is nothing. It is but the
half-way post: one has left youth be
hind, but one has not reached old age.
Time must bo very tolerant, for he
has given you a careful selection.
There were 110 years of storm and
poverty, of violent passions; and if I
have truly loved, it has been you, only
you. You are too wise and worldly
to love any one but yourself. And yet,
once you stood on the precipice of dark
eyes, pale skin, and melancholy
wrinkles. And even now, if he ware
•to speak . . . Enough! Enough of
this folly. I have something to ac
complish to-night." She glided from
the boudoir into the small but luxuri
ous drawing-room which had often
been graced by the most notable men
and women in the country.
Karloff threw aside the book of
poems by De Banville, rose, and went
forward to meet her.
"Madam,"—bending and brushing
her hand with his lips, "Madam, you
grow handsomer every day. If I were
40, now, I should fear for your single
blessedness."
"Or, if 1 were two-and-twenty, in
stead of eiglit-and-thirty,"—beginning
to draw on her long white gloves.
There was a challenge in her smile.
"Well, yes; if you were two-aml
, twenty."
1 "There was a time not long ago,"
she said, drawing his gaze as a magnet
.draws a needle, "when the disparity
'in years was of no matter."
• The count laughed. "That was three
•years ago; and if my memory serves
.ms, you smiled."
"Perhaps I was first to smile; that
is all."
"I observe a mental reservation," —
owli slily.
"I will put it plainly, then. I pre
ferred to smile over your protestations
rather than see you laugh over the
possibility and the folly of my loving
you."
"Then it was possible?"—with inter
est.
"Everything is possible . . . and
often absurd."
"How do you know that I was not
truly in love with you?"—narrowing
his eyes."
"It is not explanatory; it can be
given only one came—instinct, which
in women and animals is more fully
developed than in man. Besides, at
that time you had not learned all about
Colonel Annesley, whose guests we are
to be this evening. Whoever would
have imagined a Karloff accepting the
hospitalities of an Annes'.ey? Co..nt
h.iili not t!o l'css a caul.cr. 1 "
"Madam!" Kartell was frowning.
"Count, you look like a paladin when
you scowl; but scowling never induces
anything but wrinkles. That is why
we women frown so seldom. We suiile.
But let us return to your query. Sup
posing I had accepted your declarations
seriously: supposing you had offered 1
me marriage in that buifat of gratitude: 1
supposing I had committed the folly
of becoming a countess, what a posi
tion I should be in to-day!"
"I do not understand,"— perplexedly.
"No?" —shrugging. She held forth a
gloved arm. "Have you forgotten how j
gallantly you used to button my j
gloves?"
"A thousand pardons! My mind was !
occupied with the mystery of your j
long supposition." He took the arm j
gracefully and proceeded to slip the 1
pearl buttons through their holes, j
(Have you ever buttoned the gloves j
of a handsome woman? I have. And
there is a subtile thrill about the pro
ceeding which I can not quite define.
Perhaps It Is the nearness of physical
beauty; perhaps It is the delicate scent
of flowers; perhaps it is the touch
of the cool, firm flesh; perhaps It is
just romance.) The gaze which she
bent upon his dark head was emotion
al; yet there was not the slightest
tremor of arm or fingers. It is possi
ble that she desired him to observe the
steadiness of her nerves. "What did
you mean?" he asked.
"What did I mean?" —vaguely. Her
thought had been elsewhere.
"By that supposition."
"Oh, I mean that my position, had
I married you, would have been rather
anomalous to-day." She extended the
other arm. "You are in love."
"In love?" He looked up quickly
"Decidedly; and I had always
doubted your capacity for that senti
ment."
"And pray tell me, with whom I am
in love?"
"Come, Count, you and I know each
other too well to waste time in beating
about the bushes. Ido not blame you
for loving her; only, I say, it must
not be."
"Must not be?" The count's voice
rose a key.
"Yes, must not be. You must give
them up—the idea and the girl. What!
You, who contrive her father's dishon
or, would aspire to the daughter's
hand? It is not equable. Love her
honorably, or not at all. The course
you are following is base and wholly
unworthy of you."
He dropped the arm abruptly and
strode across the room, stopping by a
window. He did not wish to see her
face at that particular instant. Some
men would have demanded indignant
ly to know how she had learned these
things; not so the count.
"There is time to retrieve. Goto
the colonel frankly, pay his debts out
of your own pockets, then tell the girl
that you love her. Before you tell her,
her father will have acquainted her
with his sin and your generosity. She
will marry you out of gratitude."
Karloff spun on his heels. His ex
pression was wholly new. His eyes
were burning; he stretched and crum
pled his gloves.
"Yes, you are right, you are right! I
have been trying to convince myself
that I was a machine where the father
was concerned and wholly a man in
regard to the girl. You have put it
before me in a bold manner. Good
God, yes! I find that I am wholly a
man. How smoothly all this would
have gone to the end had she not
crossed my path! I am base, I, who
have always considered myself an hon
orable man. And now it is too late,
too late!"
"Too late? What do you mean? Have
you dared to ask her to be your wife?"
Had Karloff held her arm at this mo
ment, he would have comprehended
many things.
"No, no! My word has gone forth
to my government; there is a wall be
hind me, and I can not go back. To
stop means worse than death. My
property will be confiscated and my
name obliterated, my body rot slowly
In the frozen north. Oh, I know my
country: one does not gain her grat
itude by failure. I must have those
plans, and nowhere could I obtain
such perfect ones."
"Then you will give her up?" There
was a brokeu note.
The count smiled. To her it was a
smile scarce less than a snarl.
"Give her up? Yes, as a mother gives
up her child, as a lioness her cub.
She has refused me, but nevertheless
she shall be my wife. Oh, I am well
versed in human nature. She loves
her father and I know what sacrifices
she would make to save his honor.
To-night!—" But his lips suddenly
closed.
"Well, to-night? Why do you not
goon?" Mrs. Chad wick was pale.
Her gloved hands were clenched. A
spasm of some sort seemed to hold her
in its shaking grasp.
"Nothing, nothing! In heaven's
name, why have you stirred me so?"
he cried.
"Supposing, after all, I loved you?"
He retreated. "Madam, your sup
positions are becoming intolerable and
I impossible."
"Nothing is impossible. Supposing
1 I loved you as violently and passion
! ately as yOu love this girl?"
| "Madam," —hastily and with gentle
ness, "do not say anything which may
! cause me to blush for you; say noth-
J ing you may regret to-morrow."
"I am a woman of circumspection.
My suppositions are merely argument
ative. Do you realize, Count, that I
' could force you to marry me?"
Karloff's astonishment could not
be equaled. "Force ne to marry you?"
"Is the thought so distasteful, then?"
"You are mad to-night."
"Not so. In whatever manner you
I have succeeded in this country, your
| debt of gratitude is owing to me. I
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, AUGUST 9, 1906
do not recall this fact as a reproach;
I make the statement to bear me on in
what I have to submit to your dis
cerning intelligence. I doubt if there
is another woman, here or abroad,
who knows you so well as I. Your
personal honor is beyond Impeach
ment but Russia is making vast efforts
to speckle it. She will succeed. Yes,
I could force you to marry me. With
a word 1 could tumble your house of
cards. I am a worldly woman and not
without wit and address. I possess
every one of your letters, most of all
have I treasured the extravagant ones.
To some you have signed your name.
If you have kept mine, jou will ob
serve that my given name might mean
any one of a thousand women who are
named 'Grace.' Shall you marry me?
Shall I tumble your house of cards? j
I could goto Col. Anncsley and say to
him that if lie delivers these plans to
you, I shall denounce him to the secret
service officers. I might cause his ut
ter financial ruin, but his name would
descend to his daughter untarnished."
"You would not dare!" the count
interrupted.
"What? And you know me so well?
I have not given you my word to re
veal nothing. You confided in my rare
quality of silence; you confided in me
because you had proved me. Man is
not infallible, even when he is named
ICarloff." She lifted from a vase her
flowers, from which she shook the
"IT IS WAR. THEN?"
water. "Laws have been passed or an
nulled; laws have died at the executive
desk. Who told you that this was to
be, or that, long before it came to
pass? In all the successful intrigues
of Russia in this country, whom have
you to thank? Me. Ordinarily a wom
an does not do these things as a pas
time. There must be some strong mo
tive behind. You asked me why 1 have
stirred you so. Perhaps it is because
I am neither two-and-twenty nor you
two-score. It is these little barbs that
remain in a woman's heart. Well, I
do not love you well enough to marry
you, but I love you too well to permit
you to marry Miss Annesley."
"That has the sound of war. I did
love you that night,"—not without a
certain nobility.
easily you say 'that night!'
Surely there was wisdom in that smile
of mine. And I nearly tumbled into
the pit! I must have looked exceed
ingly well . . . that night!"—
drily.
"You are very bitter to-night. Had
you taken me at my word, I never
should have looked at Miss Annesley.
And had I ceased to love you, not even
you would have known it."
"Is it possible?"—ironically.
"It is. I have too much pride to
permit a woman to see that I have
made a mistake."
'Then you consider in the present
instance that you have not made a
mistake? You are frank."
"At least I have not made a mistake
which I can not rectify. Madam, let
us not be enemies. As you say, I owe
you too much. What is it you desire?"
—with forced amiability.
"Deprive Col. Annesley of his honor,
that, as you say, is inevitable; but I
love that girl as I would a child of
my own, and I will not see her caught
in a net of this sort, or wedded to a
man whose government robs him of
his manhood and individuality."
"Do not forget that I hold my coun
try first and foremost," —proudly.
"Love has no country, nor laws, nor
galling chains of incertitude. Love is
magnificent only in that it gives all
without question. You love this girl
with reservations. You shall not have
her. You shall not have even me, who
loves you after a fashion, for I could
never look upon you as a husband; in
my eyes you would always be an ac
complice."
"It is war, then?"—curtly.
"War? Oh, no; we merely sever
our diplomatic relations," she purred.
"Madam, listen to me. I shall make
one more attempt to win this girl hon
orably. For you are right; love to
be love must be magnificent. If she
accepts me, for her sake I will become
I an outcast, a man without a country,
j If she refuses me. I shall goon to the
end. Speak to the colonel, madam; it
is too late. Like myself, he has gone
! too far. Why did you open the way
j for me as you did? I should have been
satisfied with a discontented clerk.
I You threw this girl across my path,
indirectly, it is true; but nevertheless
j the fault is yours."
"I recognize it. At that time I did
not realize how much you were to
1 ine."
"You are a strange woman. I do
not understand you."
"Incompatibility. Come, the car
riage is wailing. Let us be gone."
"You have spoilt the evening for
me," said the count, as he threw her
; cloak across her shoulders.
1"On the contrary, I have added a
peculiar zesf. No, let us go and ap
pear before the world, and smile, and
laugh, and eat, and gossip. I,et the
heart throb with a dull pain, if it will;
the mask id ours to do with as we
may."
They were. In my opinion, two xery
unusual persons.
CHAPTER XVII.
DINNKit IS SISUVED.
"Hal-
Monsieur Pierre, having uttered this
ejaculation, stepped back and rested
his fat hands on his fat hips. As he
surveyed the impromptu butler, a
shade of perplexity spread over TTis oily
face. He smoothed his imperial and
frowned. This groom certainly looked
right, hilt there was something lacking
in his make-up, that indefinable some
thing which is always found in the
true servant—servility. There was no
humility here, no hypocritical meek
ness, no suavity; there was nothing
smug or self-satisfied. In truth, there
was something grimly earnest, which
was not to be understood readily.
Monsieur Pierre, having always busied
himself with soups and curries anil
roasts and sauces, was not a profound
analyst; yet his instinctive shrewd
ness at once told him that this fellow
was no servant, nor could he ever be
made into one. Though voluble enough
in his kitchen, Monsieur Pierre lacked
expression when confronted by any
problem outside of it. Here was the
regulation swallow-tail coat and
trousers of green, the striped red vest,
and the polished brass buttons: but
the man inside was too much for him.
"Diable! You luke right. But no,
I can not explain. Eet ees on zee
tongue, but eet rayfuse. Ha! I haf eet!
You lack vot zay call zeo real. You
make me t'ink uf zee sairvant 011 zee
stage, somet'ing bettair off: eh?"
This was as near as monsieur ever got
to the truth of things.
[To Be Continued.]
SOME QUEER WEDDINGS.
Humorous I ueiilen ts of .Nuptials
Performed liy :i Voted
Cleric.
"It is hard to look over my record
of marriage services without continoua
merriment," wrote the Rev. John Hen
ry Barrows, president of Oberlin Col
lege. In a memoir of her father's life
Miss Barrows gives some of his ex
perience in his own words.
"I recall the marriage where the
awkward father of the bride, who was
himself nearly seven feet tall, tried
to knell when his daughter knelt and
who required help to bring him to his
feet again.
"I remember the loving groom who
had come to my house to be wed, and
who, after the ceremony, tenderly re
marked :
"Jennie has no friends here, doctor.
I should be so glad if you would kiss
her!'
"I think of the young man in church
who walked with five other young
men up one aisle, while the bride and
five other young ladies walked up the
other aisle, the two forming a straight
military line before the altar, and who,
when I whisperingly asked him his
first name, replied in loud tones, 'I do,"
and who, at the close of the service
took out a ten-dollar bill and presented
it in the presence of the entire congre
gation.
"I think of the couple whom I called
by wrong names, saying, 'Do you,
George?' 'Do you, Martha?' when I
was really addressing John and Jane.
In hurriedly glancing over the license,
I had read the names of the bride's
father and mother instead of those of
the bride and groom."
Why the Actor Smileil.
The late Joseph Jefferson used to
enjoy telling, in his quaint way, of the
sad case of a player in the old days
A company had been sent out f;om
New Orleans to visit the towns along
the Mississippi river up to St. Louis.
Business had been anything but good,
and the meager receipts at the box
office had resulted in a heavy reduc
tion of salaries before the oompany
had been out for many weeks. 0110
night, after the performance, the
stage manager, who also was the
leading man, took exception to the
manner in which one of the players
had interpreted a certain "death
scene." "Why," exclaimed the stage
manager, indignantly, "you actually
smiled in that scene!" "Yes," re
plied the player who had been re
buked, "in view of the salary that
you now pay me, death seems a pleas
ant relief."—Success Magazine.
French "Bull."
The following Verbal "bull" is cred
ited to u Frenchman who. while prom
enading with a friend, noticed a pass
ing cab drawn by a pair of horses,
one black and the other white.
"Look," said one; "you don't often see
a pure white horse and a pure black
one harnessed together."
"That's so," was the response. "Do
you know why the black horse is on
the near side?"
"No."
"Why, they always put the horse
that isn't the same color as the other
on the near side."
Proprietary VtfKlitn.
"My stars!" exclaimed a sympathetic
old lady who had seen a man fall on
the icy pavement.
"You are mistaken, madam," re
sponded the man, sitting up and blink
ing; "they're mine."
Rising stiffly to his feet he went his
way.—Philadelphia Ledger.
SiKiiiilonnt.
"Well. Borrouglis has moved to Lex
ington."
"Yes, and I miss him. too."
"For how much?"— Louisville Cour
ier- Jo urual.
JOHN HENRY
ON COURTING.
By HUGH McHUGH
[GEORGE Y. rSOBART]
M? ilk
"In the Days of Old."
Are you wise to the fact that every
thing is changing in this old world of
ours, and that since the advent of fuss
wagons even the old-fashioned idea of
courtship has been chased to the woods?
It used to be that on a Saturday even
ing the young gent would draw down
his six dollars' worth of salary and chase
himself to the barber shop, where the
Dago lawn trimmer would put a crimp
in his mustache and plaster his fore
head with three cents' worth of hair
and a dollar's worth of axle-grease.
Then the young gent would go out
and spread 40 cents around among the
tradesmen for a mess of water-lilies
and a bag of peanut brittle.
The lilies of the valley were to put
on the dining-rom table so mother
would be pleased, and with the peanut
brittle he intended to fill in the weary
moments when he and his little geisha
girl were not making goo-goo eyes at
each other.
But nowadays it is different, and
Dan Cupid spends most of his time on
| the hot foot between the coroner's of
| flee and the divorce court,
I've got a hunch that young people
; these days are more emotional and
| like to see their pictures in the news
papers.
Nowadays when a clever young man
goes to visit his sweetheart he hikes
over the streets in a benzine buggy,
and when he pulls the bell-rope at the
front door he has a rapid-fire revolver
in one pocket and a bottle of carbolic
acid in the other.
His intentions are honorable and he
wishes to prove them so by shooting
his lady love if she renigs when he
makes a play for her hand.
I think the old style was the best,
because when young people quarreled
they didn't need an ambulance and a
hospital surgeon to help them
make up.
In the old days Oscar Dobson would
draw the stove brush cheerfully across
his dogskin shoes and rush with eager
feet to see Lena Jones, the girl he
wished to make the wife of his bosom.
"Darling!" Oscar would say, "I am
sure to the bad for love of you. Pipe
the downcast drop In this eye of mine
and notice the way my heart is bub
bling over like a bottle of sarsaparil
la on a hot day! Be mine, Lena! be
mine!"
Then Lena would giggle. Not once,
but seven giggles, something like those
used in a spasm.
Then she would reply: "No, Oscar;
it cannot be. Fate wills it otherwise."
Then Oscar would bite his finger
nails, pick his hat up out of the coal
scuttle and say to Lena: "False one!
You love Conrad, the floorwalker in the
butcher shop. Curses on Conrad, and
gee what you have missed, Lena. I
"To Prove His Intentions Were Hon
orable."
have tickets for a swell chowder party
next Tuesday. Ah! farewell forever!"
Then Oscar would walk out and
hunt up one of those places that Car
rie Nation missed in the shuffle and
there, with one arm glued tight
around the bar rail, he would fasten
his system to a jag which would last
for a week.
Despair would grab him and he'd
be Oscar with the aouse thing for
mure. 1
MEDIUM-SIZED SHIPS IN FAVOR.
Liite shipping returns compiled bv j
Lloyd's prove quite conclusively that j
the great carg j carrier of the world is
Eti:i the medium-sized tramp steafnar
which can get iu and out of all ports
of consequence in the known world
end on a draft of from 22 to 25 feet
ca»Ty from 6.000 to 10,000 tons of car
£T>. The ex'ent to which vessels of j
tills type predominate over all others j
bus neen frequently shown in Lloyd's
Ktg J ter, and, despite the fact that j
When he would recover strength
enough to walk down town without at
tracting attention of the other side
of the street, he would call on Lena
anil nay: "Lena, forgive me for what
1 done, but love is blind —and, be
sides, 1 mixed my drinks. Lena, I
was on the downward path and I near
| ly went to hell."
Then Lena would say: "Why,
Oscar, I saw you and your bundle
when you fell in the well, but I didn't
: know it was as deep as you mention."
Then tliey would kiss and make
up, and the wedding bells would ring
just as soon as Oscar's salary grew
j large enough to tea.-e a pocketbook.
I But these days the idea is altogether
! different.
Children are hardly out of the cradla
| before they are arrested for butting
, into the speed limit with a smoke
! wagon.
Even when they go courting Ihey
| have to play to the gallery. •
Nowadays Gonsalvo H, Ptiffenlotz
l '
"She Thinks She Is a Sibson Girl."
walks into the parlor to see Miss Imo
gene Cordelia Hoffbrew.
"Wie gehts. Imogene!" says Gon
salvo.
"Simlich!" says Imogene, standing
at right angles near the piano because
she thinks she is a Gibson girl.
"Imogene, dearest," Gonsalvo con
tinues; "I called on your papa in Wall
street yesterday to find out how much
money you have, but he refused to
name the sum, therefore you have un
told wealth!"
Gonsalvo pauses to let the Parisiaa
clock on the mantel tick, tick, tick!
He is making the bluff of his life
you see, and he has to do even that on
tick.
Besides, this furnishes the local
color. •'
Then Gonsalvo bursts forth again:
"Imogene! Oh! Imogene! will you be
mine and I will be thine without
money and without the price."
Gonsalvo pauses to let this idea
get noised about a little.
Then he goes on: "Be mine, Imo
gene! You will be minus the money
while I will have the price!"
Gonsalvo trembles with the passioa
which is consuming his pocketbook.
and then Imogene turns languidly
from a right angle triangle into more
of a straight front, and hands Gon
salvo a bitter look of scorn.
Then Gonsalvo grabs his revolver
and, aiming it at her marble brow,
exclaims: "Marry me this minute or
I will shoot you in the topknot, be
cause I love you."
Then papa rushes into the room and
Gonsalvo politely requests the old gen
tleman to hold two or three bullets
for him for a few moments.
Gonsalvo then bites deeply into a
bottle of carbolic acid, and just as the
coroner climbs into the bouse the pic
tures of the modern lover and lover
ess appear in the newspapers, and
fashionable society receives a jolt.
This is the new and up-to-date way
of making love.
However, I think the old style of
courting is the best, because you can
generally stop a jag before it gets to
the undertaker.
What do you think?
(Copyright, 1901, by G. W. Dllllnsham C<x)
I there has beea n increase in the num
i ber of large ships, the increase in the
! number of smaller ones is fully aa
pronounced.
Exercise.
"You consider walking the best ex
ercise?"
"It used to be," answered the phy
sician, "until the necessity of dodg
ing street cars and automobiles niad«
it so violent." —Washington Star.