LUCILLE LOVE. The Girl of Mysfery
A Soul Jhrilling Story of£ove. Devotion, jpanger and Jntrigue
Copyright, 1914. All moving picturerrightt t reserved by the Univsrsal Film Manufacturing Company, who are
nou> exhibiting thi* production in hading theater*. Infringement* will be vigorously prosecuted.
SYNOPSIS t}F THE FOREGOING CHAPTERS.
While etudents together at West Point, and
In love with the tame girl, Sumpter Love it die
honorably discharged. Love wins the girl. The
enmity thus begun finds outlet in later years at
Manila, when a butler-thief in the employ of
Loubeque, now an international spy, itealn valu
able papers from the Government safe of Gen
eral Love. Loubeque sails with them on the
steamship Empress and General Love accuses
Lieut, Gibson, his aide and the sweetheart of hit
daughter Lucille, of the crime. Loubeque sends a
wireless message cleverly insinuating that General
Love had sold the papers to a foreign power. To
save the honor of the man she loved and to
arase the stigma from her father's name, Lucille
prevails upon Harley, a Government aviator, to
take her out to the ship, in his aeroplane. To foil
Lucille, Loubeque destroys the wireless apparatus
on the Empress and is hurt in the resulting ex
plosion. In her search for the papers, Lucille be
come< his nurse, and when the ship takes fire,
secures them. The vessel is burned to the water's
edge and Lucille drifts to a strange island on the
oar of a crushed lifeboat.
CHAPTER IX.
A Castaway.
ONSCIOUSNESS lapsed slightly and
| was followed by a state of dull
i apathy. Somb instinct held Lucille's
arms upon the oar that had floated
I to her when the life boat smashed
' itself against the side of the burn
ing Empress. First, tne immensity,
the ridiculousness of expecting to
reach safety from the mighty ocean
impressed her. Only the natural
fight inherent in human flesh in-
if
luced her to continue the effort to float.
Mountains of waves sifted along her path,
bearing 1 her gently to their crests and passing
her through the trough of sea to the next wave
in line. From watching the myriad stars blazing
in the heavens she became interested in trifles,
never thinking of the precious papers she had
rescued at so great effort from the international
epy, forgetting even the ones at Manila on whose
behalf she had taken such risks to get them
back. Came a long interval of restfulness where
everything grew dim and indistinct and the water
in which she was being tossed about seemed like
a fostering mother upon which, in perfect con
fidence, she could rest her weary head and sleep.
The lap-lap of the waves wove itself into a
lullaby and slowly her eyes closed and, dream
ing, she slept.
Little needles continually prickling at her
flesh brought her from slumber so abruptly she
straightened bolt upright, staring about her in
credulously. Before her stretched the giant
ocean, peaceful now save for playful white caps
that rushed ferociously at her from far down a
long sand bar then wore themselves out by the
thsy touched the solea of her feet. Every
nerve and sinew of her body ached terribly,
cramping her so she could barely look about the
long expanse of beach that seemed to stretch
Interminably in every direction. Behind her she
finally managed to clear her eyes enough to
make out a luxurious vegetation, obviously
tropical. The sun, a copper cauldron glared upon
her, almost burning her flesh with the ferocity
with which he applied his heat in an effort to
loosen the joints stiffened by so long cold and
exposure.
Safety meant little to her. Her brain was
In such a state that the providential escape
Beemed natural. That she was alone upon an
Island in the Pacific seemed simple enough.
Nothing mattered. Again she closed her eyes and
gave herself over to slumber which lasted until
nightfall.
Securely hidden by the thick vegetation, she
settled down, taking a firm grip on herself and
trying to reassemble the things that had hap
pened to her in such fashion thut she might
know what was best to be done. And always
primarily did her thoughts revert to the papers
concealed in the bosom of her dress, the papers
and the man who sought them.
Even hero she shuddered at recollecting the
features of the man, so expressive of his char
acter. The premonition came to her that noth
ing could thwart him, that his cold resolve was
BO great as even to force the elements to battle
with him. And yet—what was it all about? Why
should this man so desire to «ruin the ones she
held dear?
The papers—Undoubtedly there was some
thing in them which would afford the clue. She
stared at the oiled belt thoughtfully, fighting
down the instinct which repelled her touching
the secrets of another. There was something in
(lie very care with which the oiled belt had been
wrapped about its contents that told her how
imperative it was she should have no scruples in
fighting one so versed in warfare as Hugo Lou
deque.
The bulky envelope from Washington vo her
father which the butler had stolen from the safe
was still unbroken. She placed the packet to one
side, knowing that if the spy did not care to
investigate the contents there could be nothing
in them which would ussist her. The diary she
investigated next, reading there until the shafts
of moonlight which penetrated the thick foliage
wandered away, leaving but a pale, silver shadow.
But Lucille paid no attention to the lack of
light, wa» not even thinking of her predicament.
Thoughtfully she sat there, the diary in her lap,
the picture of her mother in her hands. She
Vuew the life of Hugo Loubeque now, knew the
dominating hatred of his life, the love of his life,
the gigantic efforts of the man, involving na
tions and humanity, the thousand tentacles of
the man, stretching to every quarter of the globe.
But as she looked at the faded picture the
npy had cherished through all the years, tears of
pity filmed her eyes, pity for the man who could
«Ulow love to associate itself inseparably with
hatred.
The unselfish love for a wrongly accused
man was the motive that impelled her every
«nove, had led her to take such great risks, would
Sad; her to take any that might be even {greater,
ate, misshapen offspring of a wrongly founded
iove, dominated the international spy. She real
ized now that Destiny itself was fighting in her
behalf; that, giant intellect though he was, Hugo
Loubeque had more than herself to contend with
because of the unnatural baseness of his motives.
.But it was a fight, would be a fight to the
bitter end. She must find out where she was,
what nature of place this might be, what chance
for rescue there was. She must get back to
Manila, for the papers were no better than rags
here. She must start immediately.
A long shadow suddenly reached out before
her, a very different shadow from the grotesque
ones thrown by the stately palms, the gnarled
and twisted Jumbo trees. First she could not
make out what it was, though a premonition of
disaster chilled her. Motionless she stood and
stared at it. From another direction came tho
crackling report of a broken twig. In every di
rection. a» though the sound had been n signal.
littered. Tho nonifffs were louder now.
'By the "MAS TEH
more frequent. Then, with a rush, Lucille saw
the shadows resolve themselves into figures of
men.
She had but time to make out their brown
color, fear blinding 1 her. She closed her eyes
fearfully, knowing she was surrounded. A hand
touched her forearm timidly. Something in the
touch was reassuring. She looked about upon a
solid ring of scantily clad natives who stared at
her in bewildered amazement. Again the hand
touched her arm.
The native stood beside her, evidently much
bolder than his fellows. Lucille could scarcely
repress a smile as she caught the incredulity on
the man's face as he looked at his hand, evi
dently expecting the white of her flesh to rub off.
Already her brain was working at lightuing
speed. The reason for the fear and astonishment
that possessed her captors was obvious. They
had never before seen a white woman. And the
girl was thinking how she might use this thing
which must appear a miracle to them.
CHAPTER X.
A Chiefs Daughter.
CHE was white.
Lucille found time even in her strange
predicament to wonder at the way the most
natural thing could turn itself to her advantage.
She could feel the hesitation of the natives who
had come upon her so unexpectedly, knew that
they were prepared to regard this phenomenon
from any angle, that they might fear her, rever
ence her, hate her, love her. So ahe stayed close
to the chief; the one who had touched her arm.
An old man he was from the heavy wrinkles
that criss-crossed his face, but his naked torso
was magnificently muscular, his carriage that of
a man to whom obedience always comes. There
was something very splendid about his steady,
black eyes—narrowed a bit as though to hint of
Mongolian origin—about the thin nostrilled nose,
the full lips.
All through the night the march continued.
Lucille shuddered as, from the black fastnesses
of the semi-jungle that hedged them in the glow
of yellow eyes gleamed. Fire balls they might
have been, so steady and silent were the animals
who watched the procession, but the pat of
stealthy feet, the crunch of broken twigs, an
occasional growl or cry told her what they were.
Her feeling that this forced march might
have some other object than merely getting back
to a village was made doubly strong by noticing
the masterful manner in which the leader com
bated any desire for rest on the part of the
natives. He himself led tlie way, finding hidden
paths as though by intuition, forcing his way
through creepers that grew so thickly at times
they seemed to form a solid wall.
It was well into the day when their party
was met by a native coming from the opposite
direction. Lucille was attracted by the rapid
conversation he held with the Chief, noticing tlie
perturbation which showed .so strongly on the
old man's face when he turned away and re
doubled his pace. It was well nigh impossible
for her to keep up now. Worn out by exposure
and this tramp through the jungle there seemed
times when she could not drag herself along,
when the tired muscles kinked and refused to
work.
Then quite unexpectedly, through a wall of
vegetation, the party emerged into a great clear
ing upon which the sun beat fiercely. A few old
men squatted before the openings to the hun
dred or more huts that filled the open space, set
down here in the midst of the jungle. Many
children played about, dressed only in the gar
ments of their birth. Here and there dogs
prowled, silently nosing into the huts, slinking
furtively about the edge of the clearing. The
leader of the party lifted his hand in signal for
a halt, his splendid body flexed.
From a hut, many times the size of any other
and set at the extreme head of the clearing fac
ing down the double row as would an officer
wan his files of men, came a droning sound, the
low pitched wailing of many women's voices,
never varying in its dreary monotone. A ter
rible sound it was, sorrowful, dirgelike. In
stinctively Lucille lifted her eyes to Oiose of the
Chief, her finger tips brushing against his bare
forearm sympathetically.
A swift gleam crossed his l stern face. At a
few sharp words the party disbanded, disappear
ing in the huts. At his nod she followed his
swift stride toward the great hut from which the
sound came.
Even as she followed the man, she marvelled
at the implicit confidence that seemed to have
become a part of her since trusting 1 herself to
his escort. In one of her own race she would
have known it for instinctive liking. The in
terior of the hut was crowded with women, the
atmosphere so close as to fairly drive her back
toward the tiny door through which she had en
tered. Above the squatting, wailing women tow
ered the splendid figure of the old chief. There
was a slight, droop to his shoulders now, a fall
iug away about the muscles of his face. And to
the ears of the girl, dominating the dirge-like
wail, came a simple note that told her the story
in its entirety, even as it struck to her woman's
heart, arousing every atom of tenderness there—
the crying of a child.
Impulsively she brushed through the women,
stooping over the pallet of rushes where the
patient lay. Even with the emaciation which her
illness had caused, despite the blaze of delirium
in the widened eyes, the black splotches of fever
in the cheeks, Lucille would have known the girl
for the daughter of the old man. As she turned
to look at the Chief the pity of ignorance rushed
upon her, and she rose and grasped both his
hands in heT own, unconscious of the horrified
looks bestowed upon her by the women.
By signs she made it clear to the old man
that the hut must be cleared' before anything
could be done to assist his daughter. It was
difficult, communicating with him, but her obvi
ous sympathy and understanding seemed to
make the task easier. Gradually it dawned upon
her that this was a custom of his people which
required vast faith to go against. She watched
him eagerly, her very heart crying out for the
sick child whose last chance for recovery was
bedng stolen by this crowd of women, using up
all the oxygen in the room when it was> the
most necessary thing for her recovery.
The Chief made his decision quickly. With
a little cry of delight, quickly supressed, she
realized that the mystery of her coloring had
made such an impression upon him that he was
willing to follow her instructions to the letter.
With the same dignity he had used in forcing his
men to double their pace through the jungle he ob
served the women's protests and drove them from
the hut, leaving the opening wide.
Lucille opened her mouth, laving her throat
with the intoxicating air that drove out the
odors the congestion had left behind. Then she
turned her attention to the child.
There is a certain quality in the natural
woman which gives her Intuition when it come*
to the nursing of an invalid or the caring for a
baby, a quality which makes a cry coherent, a
moan intelligible. Lucille, restricted though her
"N'tierienee had been, had sensed the proper
HARRISBTJRG TEUOGRA.PH
thing to do for the girl, giving her lungs a
chance to feed the body properly.
That it was a fever was all she knew, the
type was beyond her. She knew that some cus
tom of the people hod been violated by sending
forth the women. She could feel it in the atti
tude of the natives when she emerged at short
intervals to take a bit of exercise. But she was
playing a lone game and the stakes were huge.
Day and night she ministered to the girl,
v ?'encouraged at a diminution of the fever, now
downcast at discouraging symptoms. All she had
to work with were the natural weapons which Na
ture leaves to the hands' of the sensible nurse.
Where the patient had been fed • meat, Lucille
made a broth; witch doctors had stimu
lated a weakened heart and system, she soothed.
And so much depended upon the little brown girl.
If she recovered then Lucille knew she would
have made no mean friend in the grim chief who
called daily to watch his daughter for a few mo
ments then, without a word, would disappear
And friends meant so much to her now. It wa;
such a task she had laid out for herself, the way
■was so stormy and beset with thorns. But she
could not lose. She must get back to Manila and
clear her sweetheart of the charge against him.
At times the task seemed impossible and there
was no language for her misery save a moan.
Then she would take a fresh brace as the picture
of Lieutenant Gibson rose before her, stern, mas
terful, every inch a man even while her father
was accusing him of betraying his country for
money.
It was on the eighth day she was awakened
from one of the naps she had accustomed herself
to taking by the girl's turning on her pallet and
regarding her out of eyes that held the light of
sanity in lieu of the delirium it had seemed so
impossible to combat. .Lucille rose quickly, her
hand feeling the steadying pulse, smoothing the
forehead that had been so feverish before.
Slowly, very slowly, under the abrupt relaxa
tion of the strain under which she had been, her
knees sank from under her and beside the bed of
rushes she knelt, shaking with incoherent sobs,
filled with a joy so great the tears refused to flow.
How long she knelt she did not know, was
never to know. But merciful slumber came to her
and she was awakened by the tender touch of a
calloused hand upon her shoulder. Startled she
sprang to her feet, then laughed at her alarm as
she looked at the Chief and saw from the expres
sion upon his face that he knew his child was' out
of danger.
She turned to the patient, still sleeping. Yes,
no one could fail to see that the crisis was reach
ed and passed. The girl's emaciated bosom was
rising and falling evenly, the breath comiftg with
none of the effort that had racked the fragile
frame before. And the black fever spots upon the
brown cheeks had disappeared.
From outside came a sydden clash of sound,
a rippling, drumming sound that diminished to
almost an echo only to rise slowly, gradually into
a perfect thunderous wave. There was something
musically triumphant about it which seemed to
her to gibe with the majestic tones of a huge
organ. Fascinated Lucille listened to the barbaric
music, suddenly becoming aware that the old
Chief was standing motionless beside the hut
opening, his face emotionless save for the gleam
of gratitude that suffused his eyes.
Slowly his right hand reached out, his head
■lowly bending in obedience. Lucille wonderingly
placed her Angers upon the forearm of the man
and emerged into the open, her eyes rounded in
wonderment at the sight that greeted her.
Gorgeously caparisoned in scarlet and gold, a
wonderful throne of the same colors upon his
back, a bronzed native astride his head, knelt a
milk white elephant almost at her feet. Before
the huts stood the natives, their wide shields held
across the forearms of their right hands while
they drummed out the chorus she had observed
before by slapping their spears against the tightly
drawn surfaces. The old Chief stood motionless
besides the elephant and she realized slowly that
he meant for her to take the scat.
She shook her head in negation. She was too
utterly tired and worn out to do anything. Be
fore she had time to regret her decision, the old
man stepped toward her, unwinding a curiously
shaped amulet from about his neck. Came a
crowding forward of the natives from every di
rection, the men in the forefront, the women and
children in the rear. Something in the silence
that succeeded the drumming noise, in the sober
faces of the orderly thronjj surrounding her made
her turn toward the chief rather expectantly.
Gravely as any king bestowing an order upon
a loyal subject, the old man lifted the amulet
by its two golden threads and dropped it about
her neck, an amulet of a curious milky stone
carved into the semblance of an elephant and glit
tering with tiny precious stones, so set as to spell
out certain native words.
Immediately the cCremofiy had been per
formed, every native lifted his shield and brought
his spear against it with all his strength. The
sound grew to such a volume she thought it would
deafen her. Bewildered, she looked about, smil
ing at what she knew to be a sign of these peo
ple's belief in her. And then the smile died upon
her lips, faded from her eyes and was succeeded
by one of fear.
For, behind the throng, arms folded, his satur
nine face impassive, cold, determined stood Hugo
Loubeque, his eyes fastened undeviatingly upon
her.
CHAPTER XI.
The Power of an Amulet.
IXfHAT followed the ceremonial attendant up
on the presentation of the White Elephant
to Lucille was all a blur to her. She remembered
being taken to some temple, the triumphant re
turn in the chair upon the back of the sacred
beast but always before her eyes had loomed the
figure of Hugo Loubeque. This afternoon, when
she had come back to the hut which the Chief
assigned to her, she felt a certain relief at know
ing the man was about.
Vaguely she had dreaded his coming before
but always had she thought it inevitable that
he would come upon her. She knew him too well
to imagine he could have survived the ship's fire
and still lose track of the papers for which he
had fought so hard. And the diary with his life's
story, his mapped out. scheme of revenge; the pic
ture of the woman he loved which he had 'kept
so many years No, she had always felt that
the man was far from defeated even though the
belt had been thrown away long since and tho
contents transferred to a bag she carried next
her heart.
Times there were when she would have fled
from the place in a sudden fit of hysteria induced
by thinking 1 of the urgency for the information
in her possession being in Manila. Cooler thought
always made her grapple with the impulse for
haste and place herself in the hands of this
superior power which had looked over her through
such startling happenings.
If the international spy was at work—and at
work she knew lie nssuredly was, now he had
located her—why did he not strike? That was
the hardest part of her stay in the village—the
constant strain of waiting for the inevitable.
The thought grew to be an obsession. She
longed for something to do, something to occupy
her mind that she might get the nervous terror
out of her waking moments. She tried to think
of the place in which she lived, what it was, who
these people were, whether there might not be
come chance of getting back to civilization, but
Hugo Loubeque was too dominant a figure in the
working out of her ambition to allow of anything
else coming in.
It was the fourth day that her attention was
irresistibly drawn to a native whose facial traits
differed so materially from that of any of the
men she had seen about the village that ahe
studied him more closely. Everything and every
body drew her scrutiny now. In every nook and
corner she looked, suspecting something, she' had
no idea what, to happen that would be engineered
by Loubeque. She had read the man's diary so
constantly in her effort to study out the possible
limitations of the man that it had become an
obsession with her.
The man was seated, cross legged, upon a
fallen log just a little ways beyond the village.
His eyes were narrow slits that emitted sharp
slants of evil light when they fell upon her, a
light that frightened her and made her turn
hurriedly back toward her hut.
She had not made over twenty ateps before an
unseen menace cast its shadow upon her heart.
Though she could hear nothing, she knew un
consciously that the man was following her at
such a pace he was obviou&'ly doing so for a pur
pose. She knew to run would make the man more
confident. By an effort she conquered the impulse,
trying to bring her pace to a slow walk. Then
she realized the futility of such a method.
Slowly, relentlessly, the pat pat of the na
tive's feet came to her. She halted and whirled
upon him. The slits of eyes met her own and
she read there the light of an unconquerable pur
pose. Her lips opened but no words would come.
She had not especially feared the Chief of the
village and his followers, but this man was dif
ferent, different in every way.
Cautiously, stealthily he advanced upon her.
There was a deathlike coldness about him that
reminded her of the one she knew to be hia mas
ter, the man under whose orders he was doing
this thing. Her breath was coming fast but she
knew she could do nothing unless the Providence
that had looked over her up to now -should ln
tervent once more. She could feel the glitter of
his eyes, could read the meaning In the terrible
hands which were outstretched toward her.
She felt a curious construction at her throat
from the terror inspired within her by the ap
palling figure of the man. Her fingers clutched
there for relief, pressing, pressing at the skin to
lossen it sufficiently for the breath to come. And
always the terrible figure of the native moved
toward her, hands outstretched, the narrow slit*
of eyes' growing more narrow until they were bvf
a glitter from out the pasty brown of the lids.
There seemed nothing to do, no way out of
his clutches. She tried to shriek but felt the
sounds strangling in her throat. Her fingers en
countered the slender golden threads that wound
the amulet about her neck. She ripped at thest
as though they had caused her fright. And then
everything became more distinct, more astonish*
lug.
For, with a little gasp of fright, the men&O*
ing figure dropped flat upon the ground, dropped
before her. For a second she thought the nutO
was dead, then her eyes widened with astonish*
ment as slowly, with face turned always down,
the man crawled in a wriggling motion suggestive
of a snake, back, back, back, until his body was
lost in the tangle of shrubbery where she had
come across him first, only a swaying of the
leaves' there, an occasional crackling of twigs
traying the fact that such a one had ever existed.
Lucille stared straight ahead of her. The ter
ror that had fallen upon her was too great for
immediate relief. Again her fingers sought the
tortured throat, falling upon the amulet which
the grateful chief had presented to her and im
mediately she realized what had saved her from
the man.
She took the amulet from her neck end
looked at it more thoughtfully than she had
done before. Then she went swiftly baok to
hut in the village. But her mind was revolYing
the incongruity of the ways in which Fate as«
fisted her in her purpose, a contrast extending
from the aeroplane of Harley to the mystic effigy
of the sacred white elephant.
Incongruous truly, yet both were equally ef«
fective in blocking the fertile brain of a maq
who, with far less effort, had brought nation* t«
war, had changed the map of continents.
CHAPTER XII.
Loubeque Tfarrows Doitm Bit Search.
pERHAPS it was the shock from her encountw
with the strange native that made her slum
ber light, for the sound was very faint that
wakened Lucille from the doze into which she
finally had fallen. Like the rippling of a breeze
through the leaves it was and yet something omi
nous about it brought her bolt upright in bed,
her every faculty alert.
Like no other sound she had ever heard it
grew more and more distinct as wakefulness
claimed her fully. Gradually she made out that it
came from immediately over her head. Her ears
and eyes worked together and she followed the
motion of sound until it ceased and was fol
lowed by another and more ominous' one, suoh a
sound as a rat makes gnawing at a hole. And yet
it was not at all like such a sound.
The noise ceased abruptly. Startled at tli«
suddenness of it she looked at the spot from
which the last noise had come, then, with a shriek
of horror, her eyes followed the stealthy, grace
ful reptile that seemed to grow from out the rery
roof of the thatched hut, its spineless body wat
ering longer and longer betore ner horror stricken
eyes, its flat head moving in all directions, two
little threads continually flickering from out it#
hideous mouth.
With a wild scream of terror she darted
through the hut opening, heaving a nigh of re
lief at feeling the warm, clean air of the open
window upon her cheek after the fetid atmos
phere which the snake-intruder had seemed to
bring with him. After a long effort she con
quered the chill of icy terror which the ser
pent had thrown upon her. Her heart was very
heavy for it was the first time anything had hap
pened to her which seemed apart from human
agency.
There at the outskirts of the village she
fought against her terror, fought down the hor
ror of the apparition which had wakened her
from slumber and driven her forth into the night.
And then she steeled herself against the fear, the
cowardice. About her neck was the little bag
with the papers and diary of Hugo Loubeque, the
papers that meant so much to the man to whom
she was engaged.
Fighting against herself, against everything
feminine in her nature, she forced herself back to
the hut. And then a great feeling of relief en
gulfed her. For the snake was gone. Listen
closely as she would, no sound came to her ear*
save the myriad noises of the surrounding country,
the jungle. But the hut was in wild disorder.
Everything inside it had been torn apart. Not an
inch of its surface but had been eovered ovt>
fully in the disruption. No snake had brought
about this confusion.
Lucille smiled to herself. Hugo Loubeqne ml
the man who had frightened her so artfully.
Brit she still had the papers.
|