6
r
The Man on
k the Box d
112 By HAROLD MacGRATH \
Author of"The Grey Cloak," "Tha
Puppet Crowu."
Copyright, 1904, The Bobbs-Merrill Company*
CHAPTER XVIII. —CONTINUED.
During the music Karloff and Col
onel Annesley drifted into the latter's
study. What passed between them I
Rather from bits recently dropped
Warburton.
1 lood God, Karloff, what a net you
have; sprung about me!" said the
colonel, despairingly.
My dear Colonel, you have only to
step out of it. It is the eleventh hour;
it is not too late." But Karloff
wat hed the colonel eagerly.
How in God's name can I step out
of it?"
"Simply reimburse me for that $20,000
I advanced to you in good faith, and
nothing more need be said." The
count's Slavonic eyes were half-lidded.
"To give you back that amount -will
leave me a beggar, an absolute beggar,
without a roof to shelter me. I am too
old for service, and besides, I am
physically incapacitated. If you should
force me, I could not meet my note
save by selling the house my child was
born in. Have you discounted it?"
"No. Why should I present it at the
bank? It does not mature t-11 next
Monday, and I am in no need of
money."
"What a wretch I am!"
Karloff raised his shoulders resign
edly.
"My daughter."
"Or my ducats," whimiscally quoted,
the count. "Come, Colonel: do not
waste time in useless retrospect. He
stumbles who looks back. I have been
thinking of your daughter. I love her,
deeply, eternally."
"You love her?"
' Yes. I love her because she appeals
to all that is young and good in me;
because she represents the highest type
of womanhood. With her as my wife,
why, I should be willing to renounce
my country, and your indebtedness
"would be crossed out of existence with
on<> stroke of the pen."
The colonel's haggard face grew light
ViVu sudden hopefulness.
"I have been,"the count went on,
S'tudying the ash of his cigar, "till
his night what the world and my own
onscience consider an honorable man.
have never wronged a man or woman
lersonally. What I have done on the
irdcr of duty does not agitate my con
science. I am simply a machine. The
moral responsibility rests, with the
czar. When I saw your daughter, I
deeply regretted that you were her
father."
The colonel grew rigid in his chair.
"Do not misunderstand me. Before
1 saw her, you were but the key to
what I desired. As her father the mat
ter took on a personal side. I could
not very conscientiously make love to
your daughter and at the same time —"
Karloff left the sentence incomplete.
"And Betty?"—in half a whisper.
"Has refused me," —quietly. "But I
have not given her up; no, I have not
given her up."
"What do you mean to do?"
Karlojf got up and walked about the
room. "Make her my wife," —simply.
He stooped and studied the titles of
some of the books in the cases. He
turned to find that the colonel had
risen an(d was facing him with flam
ing eyea.
• [ demand to know how you intend
♦o accomplish this end," the colonel
said. "My daughter shall not be
drained into this trap."
"To-morrow night I shall explain ev
erything; to-niglit, nothing."—imper
turbablyj
Karl'®, to-night I stand a ruined
,„d dishonored man. My head, once
hr-id so proudly before my fellow-men,
. bo«'d with shame. The country I
l - ve fought and bled for I have in part
i. trayeda But not for my gain, not for
n, palnj No, no! Thank God that I
, s ay that! Personal greed has not
ta nt< i me - Alone, I should have gone
nely Into some poorhouse and eked
<y , an existence on my half-pay. But
t jchild of mine, whom I love doubly,
for hf" mother's sake and her own, —
I ffO'iW gladly cut off both arms to
ir( !-er a single pain, to keep her
. luxury which she still believes
- .btlully to be hers. When the fever
ng possessed me, I should have
yr. I did not; therein lies my
.v.the mistake which lias
,me to this horrible end. Vir
acrificed his child to save her;
i sacrifice my honor to save mine
~j r; overty. Force her to wed a
e does not love? No. To-mor
ht we shall complete this dis
-1 bargain. The plans are all
but one. Now leave me; I
, be alone."
it is my deep regret- "
there is nothing more to be
ff withdrew. He went soberly
. . /as nothing sneering nor con
>us in his attitude. Indeed,
as frown of pity on his face,
that circumstances had
i down a noble man; that
had tricked l-.irn o* his honor.
hateJ his ov>evil »lan! He
his shO".Ul*ia, determined once
more to put it to the touch to win or '
lose It all.
He found her at the bow-window,
staring up at the moon. As 1 remarked
this room was dark, and she did not
instantly recognize him.
"I am moon-gazing," she said.
"Let me sigh for it with you. Per
haps together we may bring it down."
There wag something very pleasing in |
the quality of his tone.
"Ah, it is you. Count? I could not |
see. But let us not sigh for the moon; j
it would be useless. Does any one get
his own wish-moon? Does it not al
ways hang so high, so far away?"
"The music has affected you?"
"As it always does. When I hear a
voice like madam's, I grow sad, and a
pity for the great world surges over
me." ,
"Pity is the invisible embrace which
enfolds all animate things. There is
pity for the wretched, for the fool, for
the innocent knave, for those who are
criminals by their own folly; pity for
those who love without reward; pity
that embraces . . . even me."
Silence. ,
"Has it ever occurred to you that
there are two beings in each of us;
that between these two there is a con
tinual conflict, and that the victor
finally prints the victory on the face?
For what lines and haggards a man's
face but the victory of the evil that
is in him? For what makes aged rud
dy and smooth of face and clear of
eye but the victory of the good that
is in him? It is so. I still love you;
I still have the courage to ask you to
be my wife. Shall there be faces hag
gard or ruddy, lined or smooth?"
She stepped inside. She did not com
prehend all he said, and his face was
in the shadow —that is to say, unread
able.
"I am sorry, very, very sorry."
"How easily you say that!"
"No, not easily; if only you know
how hard it comes, for I know that it
TW
"WM 1
STARING AT THE MOON.
inflicts a hurt," —gently. "Ah, Count,
why indeed do I not love you?"—im
pulsively, for at that time she held
him in genuine regard. "You repre
sent all that a woman could desire in a
man."
"You could learn," —with an eager
step toward her.
"You do not believe that; you know
that you do not. Love has nothing to
learn; the heart speaks, and that is
all. My heart does not speak when I
see you, and I shall never marry a
man to whom it does not. You ask
for something which I can not give,
and each time you ask only adds to the
pain."
"This is finality?"
"It is."
"Eh, well; then I must continue on
to the end."
She Interprafed this as a plaint of
his coming loneliness.
"Here!" she said. She held in her
hands two red roses. She thrust one
toward him. "That is all I may give
you."
For a moment he hesitated. There
were thorns, invisible and stinging.
"Take it!"
He accepted it, kissed it gravely, and
hid It.
"This is the bitterest moment in my
life, and doubly because I love you."
When the portiere fell behind him,
she locked her hands, grieving that all
she could give him was an ephemeral
flower. How many men had turned
from her in this wise, even as she be
gan to depend upon them for their
friendships! The dark room oppressed
her and she stepped out once more in
to the silver of moonshine. Have you
ever beheld a lovely woman fondle a
lovely rose? She drew it, pendent on
its slender stem, slowly across her lips,
her eyes shining mistily with waking
dreams. She breathed in the perfume,
then cupped the flower in the palin of
her hand and pressed it again and
again to her lips. A long white arm
stretched forward and upward toward
the moon, and when it withdrew the
hand was empty.
Warburton, hidden behind the vines,
waited until she was gone, and then
hunted in the grass for the precious
flower. On his hands and knees he
groped. The dew did not matter. And
when at last he found it, not all the
treasures of the fabled Ophir would
have tempted him to part with it.it
would be a souvenir for his later days.
As he rose from his knees he was
confronted by a broad-shouldered,
elderly man in evening clothes. Th«
end of a cigar burned brightly between
his teeth.
"I'll take that flower, young man,
if you please."
Warburton's surprise was too great
for sudden recovery.
"It is mine, Colonel," he stammered.
The colonel filliped away his cigar
and caught my butler roughly by the
arm.
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, AUGUST 23, 1906.
"Warburton, what the devil does
this moan—a lieutenant of mine ped
dling soup around a gentleman a
table?"
CHAPTER XIX.
"OH. MISTER BUTLER."
Warburton had never lacked that
rare and peculiar gift of Immediately
adapting himself to circumstances. To
lie now would be folly, worse than
useless. He had addressed this man
at his side by his military title. He
stood committed. He saw that he must
throw himself wholly on the colonel's
mercy and his sense of the humorous.
He pointed toward the stables and drew
the colonel after him; but the colonel
held back.
"That rose first - I insist upon hav
ing that rose till you have given me
a satisfactory account of yourself."
Warburton reluctantly surrendered
his treasure. Force of habit is a pecu
liar one. The colonel had no real
authority to demand the rose; but
Warburton would no more have
thought of disobeying than of running
away.
"You will give it back to me?"
"That remains to be seen. Goon;
lam ready to follow you. And I do not
want any dragging story, either." The
colonel spoke impatiently.
Warburton led him into his room
and turned on the light. The colonel
seated himself on the edge of the cot
and lighted a fresh cigar.
"Well, sir, out with it. lam wait
ing."
Warburton took several turns about
the room. "I don't know how the deuce
to begin, Colonel. It began with a
joke that turned out wrong."
"Indeed?" —sarcastically. "Let me
hear about this joke."
M'sieu Zhames dallied no longer,
but plunged boldly into his narrative.
Sometimes the colonel stared at him as
if he beheld a species of lunatic abso
lutely new to him, sometimes he
laughed silently, sometimes he frowned.
"That's all," said Zhames; and he
stood watching the colonel with dread
\n his eyes.
"Well, of all the damn fools!"
"Sir?"
"Of all the jackasses!"
Warburton bit his lip angrily.
The colonel swung the rose to and
fro. "Yes, sir, a damn fool!"
"I dare say that I.am, sir. But I
have gone too far to back out now.
Will you give me back that rose, Colo
nel?"
"What do you mean by her?" —
coldly.
"I love her with all my heart," —
hotly. "I want her for my comrade,
my wife, my companion, my partner
in all I have to do. I love her, and
I don't care a hang who knows it."
"Not so loud, my friend; not so
loud."
"Oh, I don't care who hears," —dis-
couraged) y.
"That beats the very devil! You've
got me all balled up. Is Betty Annes
ley a girl of the kind we read about
in the papers as eloping with her
groom. What earthly chance had you
in this guise, I should like to know?"
"I only wanted to be near her; I
did not look ahead."
"Well, I should say not! How long
were you behind that trellis?"
"A year, so it seemed to me."
"Any lunatics among your ances
tors?"
Warburton shook his head, smiling
wanly.
"I can't make it out," declared the
colonel. "A graduate of West Point,
the fop of Troop A, the hero of a hun
dred ball-rooms, disguised as a hostler
and serving soup!"
"Always keep the motive in mind,
Colonel; you were young yourself
once."
I
"SHALL YOU EXPOSE ME?"
The colonel thought of the girl's
mother. Yes he had been young once,
but not quite so young as this cub of
his.
"What chance do you suppose you
have against the handsome Russian?"
"She has rejected him," —thought-
lessly.
"Ha!" —frowning. "So you were
eavesdropping?"
"Wait a moment, Colonel. You know
that I am very fond of music. I was
listening to the music. It had ceased
and I was wailing for it to begin again,
when I heard voices."
•'Why did you not leave then?"
"And be observed? I dared not!"
The colonel chewed the end of his
cigar in silence.
"And now may I have that rose,
sir?"—quietly.
The colonel observed him warily. He
knew that quiet tone. It said lhat if
he refused to give up the rose he would
have to fight for it, and probably get
licked iuiu the bargain.
"I've ft notion you might attempt
to take it by force in case I refused.'"
"I surrendered it peacefully enough,
sir."
"So you did. Here." The colonel
tossed the flower across the room and
Warburton caught it.
"I should like to know, sir, i* you
are going to expose me. It's 110 more
than I deserve."
The colonel studied the lithographs
on the walls. "Your selection?"—with
a wave of the hand.
"No, sir. I should like to know what
you are going to do. It would relieve
my mind. As a matter of fact., I con
fess that I am growing weary of the
mask." Warburton waited.
"You make a very respectable but
ler, though,"—musingly.
"Shall you expose me, sir?" —per-
sistently.
"No lad. I should not want it to
get about that a former officer of
mine could possibly make such an ass
of himself. You have slept all night in
jail, you have groomed horses, you
have worn a livery which 110 gentle
man with any self-respect would wear,
and all to no purpose whatever. Why,
in the name of the infernal regions,
didn't you meet her in a formal way?
There would have been plenty of op
portunities."
Warburton shrugged; so did thecolo
nel, who stood up and shook the
wrinkles from his trousers.
"Shall you be long in Washington,
sir?" asked Warburton, politely.
"In a hurry to get rid of me, eh?"
—with a grim smile. "Well, perhaps
in a few days."
"Good night."
The colonel stopped at the threshold,
and his face melted suddenly into a
warm, humorous smile. He stretched
out a hand which Warburton grasped
most gratefully. His colonel had been
playing with him.
[To Be Continued.]
TALE OF "HANS BRINKER."
Work of Famon* Author That Went
HcKtfing, J)ut Achieved
Sncce«M.
The fact that many a popular work
has passed through more than one pub
lishing house before finding one cour
ageous enough to issue it is one of the
commonplaces of the history of litera
ture. Among the classics of juvenile
literature no story lias a more cher
ished place than "Hans Drinker,"
written by Mrs. Mary Mapes Dodge,
whose recent death has deprived the
young people of many countries of a
sympathetic friend. The Book Buyer
gives a little account of the growth of
the "Silver Skates."
In the early days of her authorship
Mrs. Dodge received a request for a
short story from the editor of the
Independent. Holland, with its quaint
customs and picturesque background,
had always fascinated the writer, and
she chose that country for the scene
of her tale.
Skating was the favorite pastime of
her two boys, who liked nothing better
than the skating stories told by their
mother before the open fire. These
two factors decided the motive of the
tale.
But "Hans Brinker" rapidly outgrew
the limits of the Independent. Tha
publication in a weekly journal was out
of the question. So Mrs. Dodge of
fered the story to a publisher, who re
fused it. Again she tried. This timi
the manuscript was returned with the
verdict that, no Holland story could be
popular. Finally the first publisher
very reluctantly consented to take the
book, and he put it upon the market
with great misgivings.
To the publisher's suprise, the book
instantly won its popularity, which
has in 40 years shown no sign of dimin
ishing. The yearly sales amount to
over 3,000 copies in this country. In
Great Britain more copies are sold thau
of any other juvenile book.
It has been translated into Dutch,
German, French, Italian and Russian,
and like its hero, has won the race.
The French Academy presented its
author with a prize, but its greatest
triumph is the place it holds in the
hearts of the young people.
An "Arte" to Di(geMtion.
Among the many attempts to play
upon George Ade's surname, the one
here given is perhaps, one of the best.
A man from northern Wisconsin, who
met the humorist some time ago, told
lrini how his writings had made exis
tence more tolerable for him in his
lonely country home.
"I was a terrible sufferer from dys
pepsy," said he, "but I read that
laughing was helpful to the digestive
organs, so when I went to the city
next time I stepped into a book store
and told them I wanted somethin'
amuzin.' They give me some of your
book-s, and after meals I had my ole
woman read to me from 'em. And, I
say, it don't make no difference how
much they criticise your books, you're
an aid to digestion, anyway."—Success
Magazine.
AKslatt'd.
"Reggie, how did you ever summon
courage to propose to Miss Wclla
long?"
"I —I didn't propose to her. She—er
—just took it for granted!"— Chicago
Tribune.
A Sj»ec*inlty.
"Some men," said Uncle Eben, "is
not only willin' to confess deir faults,
but dey goes to de extreme of actin'
like dey was proud of 'em." —Washing-
ton Star.
Failed in (lie 4'liune.
"You do wrong to suspect that maa.
He always pursued an upright life."
"Then I'm sure he never overtook 1
It." —LialUwura American.
| Balcom & Lloyd, 112
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