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The Man on
. the Box
I
112 By HAROLD MacGRATH \
Author of " The Grey Cioak," "The '
Puppet Crowu." |
| Copyright, 1904, The Bobbs-Merrill Company.
CHAPTER XXII.
THE DRAMA UNROLLS.
It is half after eight; the curtain
rises; the music of a violin is heard
coming from the music-room: Col. An
nesley is discovered sitting in front of
the wood fire, his chin sunk on his
breast, his hands hanging listlessly on
each side of the chair, his face deeply
lined. From time to time he looks at
the clock. I can imagine no sorrier
picture than that of this loving, ten
der-hearted, wretched old man as he
Bits there, waiting for Karloff and the
ignominious end. Fortune gone with
the winds, poverty leering into his
face, shame drawing her red fingers
across his brow, honor in sackcloth
and ashes!
And but two short years ago there
had not been in all the wide land a
'more contented man than himself, a
1 man with a conscience freer. Clod!
j liven yet he could hear the rolling,
whirring ivory ball as it spun the cir
cle of that fatal night at Monte Carlo.
Man does not recall the intermediate
steps of hia fall, only the first step
and the last. In his waking hours the
colonel always heard the sound of it,
and it rattled through his troubled
dreams. He could not understand Low
everything had pone as it had. It
seemed impossible *1 at in two years
he had dissipated a fortune, sullied
his honor, beggared his child. It was
all so like a horrible dream. If only
In might wake; if culy God would be
so merciful as to permit him to wake!
He hid his face. There is no hell
sine conscience makes it.
The Tnusi<" laughed and sighed ar.d
laughed. It was the music of leve
arid youth; joyous, rollicking, pulsing
music.
The colonel sprang to his feet sud
denly, his hands at his throat. He
vt: s suffocating. The veins gnarled on
his neck and brow. There was In
his heart a pain as of many knives.
His arms fell: of what use was it to
struggle? He was caught, trapped in
a net of his own contriving.
Softly he crossed the room and stood
li> the portiere beyond which was the
music-room. She was happy, happy in
, v * youth and ignorance! she could
.•iA- all those sprightly measures, her
writ as light and conscience-free;
could sing, she could laugh, she
cclild dance. And all the while his
lwlirt was breaking, breaking!
I How shall I face her mother?' he
groaned.
The longing which always seizes
the guilty to confess and relieve the
mind came over him. If only he dared
rush in there, throw himself at her
feet, and stammer forth his wretched
lale! She was of his flesh, of his blood;
when she knew she would not wholly
condemn him . . . No, no! He
could not. She honored and trusted
him now; she had placed him on so
high a pedestal that it was utterly
impossible for him to disillusion her
young mind, to see for ever and ever
the mute reproach in her honest eyes,
to feel that though his arm encircled
her she was beyond his reach .
flod Unew that he could not tell this
child of the black gulf he had digged
for himself and her.
Th<! bell sang its buzzing note; there
was the sound of crunching wheels
on the driveway; the music ceased
abruptly. Silence. A door opened and
closed. A moment or so later Karloff,
preceded by the girl, came into the
study. She was grave because she
remembered Mrs. Chadwick. He was
also; he had various reasons
for being so.
"Father, the count tells me that he
has an engagement with you," she
said. She wondered if this appoint
ment in any way concerned her.
"It is true, my child. Leave us and
give orders that we are not to be dis
turbed."
She scrutinized him sharply. How
strangely hollow his voice sounded!
Was he ill?
"Father, you are not well. Count,
you must promise me not to keep
him long, however important this in
tervit w may be. He is ill and needs
rest," —and her loving eyes caressed
each ine of care in her parent's fur
rowej cheeks.
An esley smiled reassuringly. It
took til the strength of his will, all
that i emained of a high order of cour
age, 10 create this smile. He wanted
to cry out to her that it was a lie, a
tnoekdry. Behind that smile his teeth
grated.
"I sjutll not keep him long, Mademoi
selle,"! said the count. He spoke gent
'y, lmt he studiously avoided her eyes.
She i hesitated for a moment on the
threshold; she knew not why. Her
lips even formed words, but she did not
speak.k What was it? Something op
pressei L her. Her gaze wandered Inde
cisiu-i Vroin her father to the count,
from t i\'ount to her father.
"Wh in you are through," she finally
said, "] >ring your cigars into the music
room."
"Wit |t the greatest pleasure,
Mrulom oisella," replied the count.
An'l r lay. if you so ri'dre: our busi
ness is su'h that your music will be as
a pleas ire added."
Her father nodded; but he could
not force another smile to his Hps.
The brass rings of the portiere rattled,
and she was gone. But she left be
hind a peculiar tableau, a tableau such
as is formed by those who staud upon
iea which U about to sink and engulf
them.
The two men stood perfectly still. I
doubt not that each experianced the
same sensation, that the same thought
occurred to each mind, though it came
from different avenues: love and
shame. The heart of the little clock on
the mantel beat tlck-tock, tick-tock; a
log crackled and fell between the irons
sending up a shower of evanescent
sparks; one of the long windows giv
ing out upon the veranda creaked mys
teriously.
Karloff was first to break the spell.
He made a gesture which was eloquent
of his distaste of the situation.
"Let us terminate this as quickly
as possible," he said.
"Yes, let us have done with it before
I lose my courage," replied the colo
nel, his voice thin and quavering.
He wiped his forehead with his hand
kerchief. His hand shone white and
his nails darkly blue.
The count stepped over to the table,
reached into the inner pocket of his
coat, and extracted a packet. In this
packet was the enormous sum of SIBO,-
000 in notes of SI,OOO denomination:
that is to say, 180 slips of paper re
deemable in gold by the government
which had issued them. On top of this
packet lay the colonel's note for $20,000.
(It is true that Karloff never ac
cepted money from his government in
payment for his services; but it is
equally true that for every penny he
laid out he was reimbursed by Russia.)
Karloff placed the packet on the
table, first taking off the note, which
he carelessly tossed beside the bank
notes.
"You will observe thai I have not
bothered with having your note dis
counted. I have fulfilled my part of
the bargain: fulfill yours." The
count thrust his trembling hands in
to his trousers pockets. He desired to
hide this embarrassing sign from his
accomplice. Annesley went to a small
safe which stood at the left of the fire
place and returned with a packet some
what bulkier than the count's. Ho
dropped it beside the money, shudder
ingly, as though he had touched a
poisonous viper.
"My honor," he said simply. "I
had never expected to sell it so cheap."
There was a pause, during which
neither man's gaze swerved from the
other's. There was not the slightest,
not even the remotest, fear of treach
ery; each man knew with whom he
was dealing; yet there they stood, as
if fascinated. One would have thought
that the colonel would have counted
his money, or Karloff his plans; they
did neither. Perhaps the colonel
wanted Karloff to touch the plans first,
before he touched the money; per
haps Karloff had the same desire, only
the other way around.
The colonel spoke.
"I believe that is all," he said quiet
ly. The knowledge that the deed was
done and that there was no retreat
gave back to him a particle of hl3
former coolness and strength of mind.
It had been the thought of committing
the crime that had unnerved him.
Now that his bridges were burned, a
strange, unnatural calm settled over
him.
The count evidently was not done.
He moistened his lips. There was a
dryness in his throat.
"It is not too late,"he said; "I have
not yet touched them."
"We shall not indulge in moralizing,
if you please," interrupted the colonel,
with savage irony. "The moment for
that has gone by."
"Very well." Karloff's shoulders set
tled; his jaws became aggressively an
gular; some spirit of. his predatory
forbears touched his face here and
there, hardening it."l wish to speak
in regard to your daughter."
"Enough! Take my honor and be
gone!" The colonel's voice was loud
and rasping.
Karloff rested his hands on the table
and inclined his body toward the colo
nel.
"Listen to me," he began. "There
is in every man the making and the
capacity of a great rascal. Time and
opportunity alone are needed—and a
motive. The other night I told you
that I could not give up your daughter.
Well, I have not given her up. She
must be my wife."
"Must?" The colonel clenched his
hands.
"Must. To-night I am going to prove
myself a great rascal—with a great mo
tive. What is Russia to me? Nothing.
What is your dishonor or my own?
Less than nothing. There is only one
thing, and that is my love for your
daughter." He struck the table and
the flame of the student-lamp rose vio
lently. "She must be mine, mine! I
have tried to win her as'an honorable
man tries to win the woman he loves;
now she must be won by an act of ras
cality. Heaven nor hell shall force me
to give her up. Yes, I love her; aud
1 lower myself to your level to gain
her."
"To my level! Take care, lam still
a man with a man's strength," cried
the colonel.
Karloff swept his hands across his
forehead. "I have lied to myself long
enough, and to you. I can see now
that I have been working solely to
ward one end. My country is not to
be considered, neither is yours. Do you
realize that you stand wholly and com
pletely in my power?" He ran iiis
tongue across his lips, which burned
with fever.
"What do you mean?"—hoarsely.
"I mean that your daughter must, be
come my wife, or I shall notify your
government that you have attempted
to betray it."
"You dishonorable wretch!' The
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 13, 1906.
colonel balled his fists and protruded
his nether lip. Only the table stood
between them.
"That term or another, it does not
matter. The fact remains that you I
have sold to me the fortification plans J
of your country; and though it be in !
times of peace, you are none the less |
guilty and culpable. Your daughter
shall be my wife."
"I had rather strangle her with these
hands!"—passionately.
"Well, why should I not have her
for my wife? Who loves her more
than I? I am rich; from hour to hour,
from day today, what shall I not plan
to make her happy? I love her with
all the fire and violence of my race and
blood. I can not help it. I will not,
can not live without her! Good God,
yes! I recognize the villiany of my ac
tion. But I am mad to-night."
"So I perceive." The colonel gazed
wildly about the walls for a weapon.
There was not even the usual orna
mental dagger.
A window again stirred mysteriously.
A few drops of rain splashed on the
glass and zigzagged down to the sash.
"Sooner or later your daughter must
know. Request her presence. It rests
with her, not with you, as to what
course I must follow." Karloff was ex
traordinarily r»ile. and his dark eyes
reflecting the dancing flames, sparkled
like rubies.
He saw the birth of horror in the
elder's eyes, saw it grow and grow.
He saw the colonel's lips move spas
modically, but utter no sound. What
was it he saw over his (the count's)
shoulders and beyond? Instinctively he
turned, and what he saw chilled the
heat of his blood.
There stood the girl, her white dress
marble-white against the dark wine
of the portiere, an edgp of which one
hand clutched convulsively. Was it
Medusa's beauty or her magic that
turned men into stone? My recollec
tion is at fault. At any rate, so long
as she remained motionless, neither
man had the power to stir. She held
herself perfectly erect; every fiber in
her young body was tense. Her beauty
became weirdly powerful, masked as it
was with horror, doubt, shame, and re
proach. She had heard; little or much
was of no consequence. In the heat
of their variant passions, the men's
voices had risen to a pitch that pene
trated beyond the room.
Karloff was the first to recover, and
he took an involuntary step toward
her; but she waved him back disdain
fully.
"Do not come near me. I loathe
you!" The voice was low, but every
note was strained and unmusical.
He winced. His face could not have
stung or burned more hrttly had she
struck him with her hand.
"Mademoiselle!"
She ignored him. "Father, what
does this mean?"
"Agony!" The colonel fell back into
his chair, pressing his hands over his
eyes.
"I will tell you what it means!"
cried Karloff, a rage possessing him.
He had made a mistake. He had mis
judged both the father and the child.
He could force her into his arms, but
he would always carry a burden of
hate. "It means that this night you
stand in the presence of a dishonored
parent, a man who has squandered
your inheritance over gambling tables,
and who, to" recover these misused
sums, lias sold to me the principal for
tificaton plans of his country. That is
what it means. Mademoiselle."
She grasped the pOrtiere for support.
"Father, is this thing true?" Her
voice fell to a terror-stricken whisper.
"Oh, it is true enough," said Karloff.
"God knows that it is true enough.
But it rests with you to save him.
Become my wife, and yonder fire shall
swallow his dishonor —and mine. Re
fuse, and I shall expose him. After
all, love is a primitive state, and with
it we go back to the beginning; before
it honor or dishonor is nothing. To
night there is nothing, nothing in the
world save my love for you, and the
chance that has given me the power to
force you to be mine. What a fury
and a tempest love produces! It makes
an honorable man of the knave, a
rascal of the man of honor; It has top
pled thrones, destroyed nations, oblit
erated races . . . Well, I have become
a rascal. Mademoiselle, you must be
come my wife." He lifted his hand
some head resolutely.
Without giving him so much as a
glance, she swept past him and sank
on her knees at her father's side, tak
ing his hands by the wrists and press
ing them down from his face.
"Father, tell him he lies. Tell him
he lies!" Ah, the entreaty, the love,
the anxiety, the terror that blended
her tones!
He strove to look away.
"Father, you are all I have," she
cried brokenly. "Look at me! Look
at me and tell him that he lies! . . .
You will not look at me? God have
mercy on me, it is true then!" She
rose and spread her arms toward
heaven to entreat God to witness her
despair. "I did not think or know that
such base things were done . . .That
these loving hands should have helped
to encompass my father's dishonor,
his degradation! . . . For money!
What is money? You knew, father,
that what was mine was likewise
yours. Why did you not tell me? I
should have laughed; we should have
begun all over again; I could have
earned a living with my music; we
should have been honest and happy.
And now! . . . And I drew those
plans with a heart, full of love and hap
piness. Oh, it is not that you gambled,
that you have foolishly wasted a
fortune; it is not these that hurt
here," —pressing her heart. "It is tho
knowledge that you, my father, should
let me draw those horrible things. It
hurts! Ah, how it hurts!" A sob
choked her. She knelt again at her
parent's side and flung her arms around
the unhappy, wretched man. "Father,
you have committed * wtme to shield
a foolish act. 1 know, I know! What
you have done you did for my sake,
to give me back what you thought
was my own. Oh, how well I know
that you had no thought of yourself;
it was all for me, and I thank God for
that. But something has died here,
something here in my heart. I have
been so happy! . . . too happy! My
poor father!" She laid her head
against his breast.
"My heart is broken! Would to
Hod that I might die!" Annesley
threw one arm across the back of the
chair and turned his face to his sleeve.
Karloff, a thousand arrows of regret
and shame and pity quivering in his
heart, viewed the scene moodily, dog
gedly. No, he could not go back; there
was Indeed a wall behind him: pride.
"Well. Mademoiselle?"
She turned, still on her knees.
"You say that if I do not marry you,
you will ruin my father, expose him?"
"Yes,"—thinly.
"Listen. I am a proud woman, yet
will I beg you not to do this horrible
thing—force me into your arms. Take
everything, take all that is left; you
can not be so utterly base as to
threaten such a wrong. See!"—ex
tending her lovely arms, "I am on
my knees to you!"
"My daughter!" cried the father.
"Do not interrupt me, father; he
will relent; he is not wholly without
pity."
"No, no! No, no!" Karloff ex
claimed, turning his head aside and
repelling with his hands, as if he would
stamp out the fires of pity which, at
the sound of her voice, had burst
anew in his heart. "I will not give
you up!"
She drew her sleeves across her eyes
and stood up. All at once she wheeled
upon him like a lioness protecting its
young. In her wrath she was as
magnificent as the wife of Aeneas at
the funeral pyre of that great captain.
[To Be Continued.]
AN OLD TIME SEXTON.
Church Servitor Who WIIM l'lillo-
Hopliic mill Itvady for Ally
ISiuerfgenc}'.
Old "Jeems" was the doorkeeper in
Broughton Place Church, Edinburgh,
when Dr. John Brown's father was
pastor there. Doctor Brown, it is
scarcely necessary to add, was the
author of "Majorie Fleming" and "Itab
and His Friends," the best child story
and the best dog story ever written,
says Youth's Companion.
Jeems was a genuine Cliristain, but
"like all complete men" he had a
gift of humor, kindly although un
couth.
One day two strangers in the
Broughton Place Church made them
selves over to Jeems to be furnished
with seats. Motioning them to follow
he walked majestically to the farthest
corner, where he had decreed that they
should sit.
The couple, meantime, had found
seats near the door, and stepped into
them, leaving Jeems to march ahead
alone, while the whole congregation
watched him with some relish and
alarm. He got to his destination,
opened the pew door and stood aside;
nobody appeared.
He looked sharply round, and then
gave a look of general wrath "at
lairge." No one doubted his victory.
His keen, deep-set gray eyes fell, or
seemed to fall, on the two culprit.-?,
pulled them out instantly, and hurried
them to their appointed place. Jeems
showed them slowly in and gave them
a parting look they were not likely to
misunderstand or forget.
On another occasion a parishoner
put a crown piece into the plate in
stead of a penny, and starting at its
white and precious face, asked to have
it back; but was refused.
"In once, in forever," said Jeems. -
"Aweel, aweel," grunted the parish
oner, "I'll get credit for It in heaven!"
Na. na," said Jeems, "you'll get
credit only for the penny!"
At that time the crowds and the
poor ventilation made fainting a com
mon occurrence in Broughton Place,
especially among the young servant
girls. The young doctor had taught
Jeems the philosophy of fainting fits,
and had instructed him especially as
to the propriety of laying the sufferers
quite flat on the floor of the lobby,
with the 1 head as low as the rest of
the body. As many of these cases
were owing to what Jeems called "that
bitter yerkin* " of their bodices —in
other words, tight lacing—he and the
doctor lost no time in relieving the vic
tims by cutting their staylaces, which
ran before the knife, and "cracked like
a bow string," as Jeems said.
One day a young woman who had
fainted was slowly coming to. Jeems
came round to the doctor with his
open gully (knife) in hand.
"Wull I rip 'er up noo?" he whis
pered.
It happened not to be a case for "rip
ping up"; and thanks to an increasing
knowledge of physiology, every year
there were fewer opportunities of ad •
ministering the wholesome lesson.
Shrewd Olal Redskin.
At a recent convention of librarians,
says the New York Tribune, the fol
lowing story was told of Geronimo, the
most celebrated Indian prisoner ward
the federal government has ever had:
"Do not tho poducts of civilized life
astonish you?" Geronimo was asked b>
his keeper, "Most of them do not, for
I see-how they come about," said the
aged Indian. "But," he added, "they
took me once to New Orleans ant:
showed me where they made Jce. At
one end of a building I saw wood
thrown into furnaces and out of fix
other end came blocks of ice. Man did
not do that; only the Great Spirit ca:
make ice from flro."
i Balcom & Lloyd, i
1
I I
L fi
| WE have the best stocked p
B general store in the county jj;
ij and if you are looking for re- B>
A liable goods at reasonable jj
B prices, we are ready to serve
| you with the best to be found. |
0 Our reputation for trust- fg
U worthy goods and fair dealing }i
is too well known to sell any 1
I but high grade goods. |j
Our stock of Queensware and J|
Chinaware is selected with B
great care and we have some
of the most handsome dishes ffl
ever shown in this section, m
both in imported and domestic p
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1
I S
Mi 112
I Balcom & Lloyd. |
yjESSKSSSSSSSXSSSSXSSSSSSSSJJ
LOOK ELSEWHERE BUT DON'T FORGET Ij
|| THESE PRICES AND FACTS AT
! || LaBAITS II I
M " II M
II »i
if We carry in stock i#
§2 the largest line of Car- _ 1 £ J
|| pets, Linoleums and fi/, pKSIQ 1 fHllTlTf fffl S % i
E2 Mattings of all kinds ; \?lj
P* ever brought to this BrTTTTTTTTTTjJJ M
Pf town. Also a big line '*»■ ffsssss?—sjE IM
11 A very large line of FOR THE N
£3 Lace Curtains that can- If
m x r e e for n .t h P c Hce a 15 COItfORTABLE LODGING II
I ? Art Squares and of fine books In a choice library M
■ Rugs of all sizes and select the Ideal pattern of Globe- If
if kind, from the cheap- Wernicke "Elastic" Bookcase. |£
est to the best. Furnished with bevel French |f
|f plate or leaded glass doors. |jg
M Dining Chairs, I »«" »* I
|| Rockers and GEO. J. LaBAR, £4
High Chairs. Sole Agent for Cameron County. fcjl
12 A large and elegant I——————-———__J
line of Tufted and
H Drop-head Couches. Beauties and at bargain prices. | j
If li
|i |3O Bedroom Suits, COC f4O Sideboard, quar- ffOrt
J' solid oak at 4)/3 tered cak 4)wU Pf
|2B Bedroom Suits, COJ f32 Sideboard, qnar- C nr N
PI solid oak at 4>Z! tered oak 4>ZO |f
f* $25 Bed room Suits, COH f 22 Sideboard, quar- tflP H
|f solid oak at tered oak, W M
14 A large line of Dressers from I Ch ffonierß of all kinds and If
M |8 up. I all prices. |#
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kg The finest line of Sewing Machines on the market, ft*
J! the "DOMESTIC" and "ELDRIEGE.' All drop-
Ej heads and warranted. £3.
N" A fine line of Dishes, common grade and China, in 112 2
sets and by the piece. If
•' As I keep a full line of everything that goes to If
If make up a good Furniture store, it is useless to enum- M
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Please call and see for yourself that I am telling
|| you the truth, and if you don't buy, there is 110 harm g|
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| GEO. J .LaBAR. i|
UNDEJR.TAK.IKTO. H
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