LUCILLE LOVE. He Girl of Mystery
* A Soul Jhrilling Story of£ove, devotion. Danger and Jntrigue
"By the "MAS TEH PEtf"
Copyright, 1914. All moving picture rights reserved by the Universal Film Manufacturing Company, who
are now exhibiting this production in leading theaters. Infringements will be vigorously prosecuted.
(Synopsis of preceding chapters.)
While students together at West Point, and in love
with the me girl, SumpterLove proves Hugo Loubeque
a thief, and Loubeque is dishonorably discharged. Love
wins the girl. Th<> enmity thus begun flnds outlet in
later years at Manila, when a butler thief in the emplpy
of Loubeque, now an international spy, steals valuable
papers from the Government safe of Uenerol Love.
Loubeque Bails with them on the steamship Emp-ess,
and General Jjove accuses Lieut. Gibson. his aide and
the sweetheart of his daughter Lucille, of the crl. e.
Loubeque sends a wireless message cleverly Insinuating
Hint General Love had sold the papers to a foreign
power. To save the honor of the man she loved and
to eraso the stigma from her father's name, Lucille
prevails upon Harley, a government aviator, to take
her out to tho ship. In his aeroplane. To foil Lucille,
Loubeque destroys tho wireless apparatus on the Em
press und Is hurt in the resulting explosion. In her
search for the papers, Lucille becomes his nurse, and
when the ship takes Are, secures them. The vessel is
burned to the water's edge and Lucille drlfis to a
otrang* island on the oar of a crushed lifeboat. Lucille
Is rescued by fripndly savages. She is given an amulet
for curing the chief's daughter, and it proved potent
figainst the machinations of Hugo Loubeque, who, like
wise cast on the island, plans to get the papers. He
ouins Luetlle's hut, but she escapes with the precious
papers. He sends a decoy message asking her to co j
to :he home of a neighboring chief, whose wife is ill
and In need of nursing. On the way there she falls
into a covered pit, dug by Loubeque across her path.
Her guide, an old crone, takes the papers from Lucille,
and gl W8 them to Loubeque, who goes with them to
the Jungle. His guide ana servant steals them, but is
killed by a lion, and Lucille, who had trailed them
three days, recovers then' from the body. Lucille
meets a strange cave-dwelling people, Is attacked by
monkeys, escapes in a canoe and is carried into an
underground whirlpool. She is rescued by Captain
Wetherell and taken aboard his yacht. There she
meets Loubeque, who is also picked up by the yacht,
which Is carrying contraband arms to Chinese rebels.
When warships pursue, Wetherell seizes the papers and
puts Lucille and Loubeque to sea in an open boat, be
cause they know too much of his plans. Their water
gives out and Lucille nearly dies before they reach
China In safety. Hugo, after nursing Lucille back to
life, goes after Wetherell to get the papers back, and
captures him. Lucille follows Loubeque, aboard a liner,
and shadows him. She is discovered during the trip to
San Franclsoo, In the hold, and on being released,
searches Loubeque's room for the papers. He catches
her, ties her up, convinces the captain that she Is
Insane, and on the vessel's arrival at port has her
whirled away In a taxi.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A House of Mysterious Entrances.
(§ OMETHINO told Lucille as she
k stood at the ship's rail that trou
| ble awaited her once her feet were
| set upon the wharf. She had the
■ captain's reassurance that every
-9 thing' would be all right, knew
* that he had sent a wireless to the
authorities in San Francisco, but,
as she glanced to her right, saw
the sinisterly meaningful gesture
of Hugo Loubeque, every word of
the man came back to lier, every word he had
uttered in his horribly playful mood, regarding
keeping her under his finger, seeing to it that
she could do no more harm to the working 1 out
of his evil plans.
" And her hand closed about, the diary hidden
JTI the bosom of her dress, the diary she had
read so many times she knew it well-nigh by
heart, the diary with its tale of gig-antic power
and unscrupulousnesg in the accomplishment of
one purpose, the destruction of her father. What
chance did the honest, simple minded captain
have, what chance did the officers of a mere
municipality have when they opposed themselves
to one who overthrew nations and their rulers
by the lifting of his hand?
The lifting of his hand, just such lifting as
the one he had just made to some unseen power
upon the wharf, a giant power probably, yet
bent, readily to do his will. She turned her eyes
toward him, eyes that were filled with a mute
appeal, then turned them away again, sick at
heart as she caught the triumphant smile behind
the cruel steel of his own. Still, strain though
she would toward that crowd upon the landing,
she could make out nothing suspicious. She could
even see the squad of policemen marching to
ward the crowd, officers of the law she knew
were sent to protect her from any possible vio
lence.
Reassuring though the sight was, her steps
were laggard as she marched down the plank.
Almost immediately she felt a pressing forward
in the fore ranks of the crowd, a pressing for
ward that tended in her direction. She looked
about her and found a man's face staring into
hers from every direction. There was no enmity
on those faces. They were not brutal, not even
evil. But there was a fixed purposefulness .about
them, a grim regard of her that told her in
stinctively they were the minions of Hugo Lou
beque. She had marked that same expression 6%
his own face as many times, that set, iron de
termination to work out his purpose at any and
all costs. Yet not a hand was laid upon her, not
a voice lifted. She tried to force her way for
ward, but a steady resistance met her. She at
tempted to go to the side. Again that impalpable
power held her in the center of the crowd. In
an agony of despair she raised her eyes in mute
appeal to the rail where she had last seen the
captain. He would understand her distress,
would help her. But, to her dismay, she found
that the jam was so close, the heads of the men
so towering, that even sight of the vessel was
cut off from her. Then, just as a heavily veiled
woman pressed toward her, with eyes that glit
tered a menace matching poorly the affectionate
pose of her form, Lucille lifted her voice, only
to have her appeal smothered by the fierce em
brace of the woman, who continually referred to
Lucille as "her poor sister."
She did not know how it was worked, but
the crowd of men opened readily for the escort
and herself, not only opened but assisted them
along their way. The door of a great limousine
stood open before her. She drew away, tried to
fight against the strength of «tlie mysterious
woman, only to find the arm that held hers with
such an appearance of affection to be made of
bands of steel. Swiftly she was hustled into the
rar and before her companion had closed tha
floor, the car shot forward, gaining speed with
"very rod. The thunder of planks ceased as the
machine struck the asphalt.
The futility of further resistance made her
Hnlc back against the cushions, sick with ap
prehension of what was to come, a dull apathy
gradually closing about her and soothing her
tired eyes, all, she had known that Hugo
Loubeque would be able to do as he said, .that
there could be no adequate assistance against
him, so long as she knew nothing of his plans.
She recalled all that happened before in her
warfare to regain possession of the stolen pap
ers, seeing the hand of a guiding Providence in
her every successful effort and the 'many escapes
she had made from what appeared certain death.
The car leaped like a living thing through
the streets of the city and then doubled upon
its tracks so that she might have no chance to
place certain sites and gain some idea thereby
where her ultimate destination was. Lucills
studied her captor from under cover of her
heavy lashes. She could see but little of the face
for the heavy mourning veil swathing it. She
only made out that she appeared apathetic, dis
interested, now her portion of the. work assigned
to her bad been carried through. It seemed a
characteristic attitude of all who worked for the
man. They were but cogs in a vast machine, re
sponsive to the master's touch, obedient, but
never working through any motive save his own
impetus. A kind face, the woman had, yet the
possible outcome of the weak, unhappy girl she
had captured so boldly seemed to make not the
slightest impression upon her. Only at the end
of their drive, when the chauffeur opened the
door did she speak.
"Any attempt to escape would be quite use
less," she said in a dull, mechanical tone of
voice. "If you are wise you will not make the
situation any more difficult for yourself by being
foolish."
As the motor car ceased purring at the curb,
the woman pressed the door bell. Came a scuf
fling along the hall, a shadow fluttered there a
second, then the door swung open. Lucille
stepped across the threshold with her captor,
surprised, to see no one in sight. Apparently the
door had opened of its own volition. Before her
was a straight stairway, appearing to end at the
second flight. To her left was a living room
into which she was ushered. Again the woman
pressed a bell.
"You will want some tea and cakes," she
said quietly.
Lucille nodded, studying her surroundings
keenly. What a change from the place she would
have expected and yet how natural that the in
ternational spy should choose just such an un
pretentious place from which to pull his wires,
play upon the strings of the world! How typical
of Hugo Loubeque was every detail!
She turned at a suggestive clink of china.
She had heard no one enter the room, yet, in
the shadows, she saw an attentive butler hold
ing the tea tray while the mysterious veiled
woman poured. The man moved toward her,
moved silently, srwiftly, surely. There was some
thing about his manner, his perfection, strik
ingly reminiscent of some one she had seen be
fore. He stood before her and, even as he bent
his head murmuring a query as to her prefer
ence regarding sugar or lemon, she recognized
him.
"Thompson!" she gasped. "Thompson! You
here! What are you doing here?"
"Yes, Miss Love! Thank you, Miss! I am
employed by Mr. Loubeque, Miss Love! Thank
you!"
She stared at him incredulously, at the
mask of a face, upon which not the* flicker of
expression was stamped. And then gradually she
understood, knew who had stolen the papers from
her father's safe, realized how completely they
had all been fooled by this cunning servant.
She shrank away from him as though from the
plague, but still he showed no sign of anger or
chagrin.
"Go away!" she muttered brokenly. "Go
sway! I can't bear to look at you."
"Yes, Miss. Thank you!"
When she looked up he had disappeared.
Swiftly she gathered herself together. Such
childish tricks must not be permitted to shatter
her courage for even an instant. She must strike
while her capture was new to them all, before
a system of surveillance had been thoroughly
established. She slipped stealthily to the door
through which she had entered the house. In
the hall she looked cautiously about, then put
her foot upon the stairs and proceeded to move
to the first flight. Midway, she was paralyzed
into inactivity by finding the stairs to be in
motion.
Horror seized her. Then once more she
braced herself. Only another trick of Loubeque's
it was. The stairs seemed to fold up within
themselves like a miniature escalader. They
grey steady once more and the girl looked about
an unfurnished room of stone wall. But she did
not see this wall, did not mark the lack of dec
orations or furniture in the room, for a com
pany of men formed a crescent facing her, one
tall figure standing apart from the rest, immov
able, silent.»
The solitary figure lifted his, hand. Then,
frozen with terror though she was, Lucille saw
that each figure was swathed in a black robe
and that, a plain, silk mask of black covered
every face. Masks through which threatening
eyes glared out upon her, masks so light they
flattened against, the wearer's features with
hideous significance.
Slowly the company passed her, pausing be
fore her to peer narrowly into her face, as
though impressing her every feature indelibly
upon their minds. When she regained her pow
ers of observation the line had passed, had
paused and disappeared. She looked about her.
She was alone.
CHAPTER XXIX.
Correspondence Under Difficulties.
fWO days and never a sign of Loubeque.
Lucille had feared and dreaded that first
meeting. She was positive the solitary figure
apart from the masked company had been the
spy. But the formality had been so silent, so
ominous she had thrust it from her because of
the terror its recollection never failed to induce
within her heart. The band, of evil-doers cer
tainly could make no mistake regarding her
identity after that close scrutiny.
The room assigned her was, to all outward
seeming, a daintily furnished bed chamber, but,
trying the large windows, she found they only
could be let down from the top and were there
covered by a thin netting of a metal that re
sisted every attempt at prying apart. Looking
more carefully she saw this same filament of
wire was interwoven with the glass so they
could not be completely smashed. The only
means of escape lay by the door and, to get out
that way, involved a flight of steps which passed
many rooms.
But she must escape. The thought of what
Loubeque might be doing unimpeded drove her
brain tyrannically against a worn-out body. She
had the man's diary, wherein was evidence
against him of such crimes as would have
appalled the most hardened courts, would have
set nations at one another's throats, entailed
countless deaths. The thing was so deadly that,
zealous though she was in her object of saving
her sweetheart, Lucille knew she could never
bring herself to the point of making public such
a document. She had the rubies from the throat
of the hideous idol in the subterranean cave.
Times without number she regarded the glowing
stones, shuddered at the blood-red rays that
mocked her from each facet, imagining the heart
of each to have borrowed some of its luster from
the rivers of blood that had been shed through
Ithe lure of its mocking light. A king's ransom,
each one; the ransom of many nations, was the
strand. Lucille allowed the jewels to run through
her slender fingers idly, unthinkingly, even con
temptuously. For of what avail was all this
when she was a prisoner in the house of one
who hated so soundly that he would willingly
sacrifice his very soul for revenge! A man to
whom life, death, honor, fame, family, father
land, all, everything meant naught but' revenge?
Idle, worthless stones, no better than pebbles
upon a sandy shore they were to the girl whose
heart and soul and body were inextricably inter
woven with love. The amulet which the savag#
chief had given her for saving his daughter's
HARRISBURG TELEGRAPH
life—that was her only other possession, and of
what use was such a thing in this city of super
civilization?
Apparently she was free to come and go
about the place as she pleased, but the very
mockery of such a freedom made her real situa
tion pall the more. Absorbed in the hopeless
task of finding some means of escape she took
to having her meals served in her room, eating
scarcely anything so engrossed was she with her
thoughts. •
On the fourth day, as she sat beside the
window, dejectedly looking out upon the well
nigh deserted street, she was suddenly aware of
a shadow falling upon the glass. She sprang to
her feet, turned to face Loubeque. The spy was
not smiling now. Instead there was a tender ex
pression on his face, a look of sympathy such as
she dimly recalled having seen while she was
racked with delirium of fever in the open boat,
out there upon the seemingly spanless ocean. In
his hands he held a newspaper and instantly she
divined it held something that would hurt her.
She nodded slowly, catching her breath with an
~u +: „ ~ u -i ,
effort, fighting back her nameless terror. slowly returning.
Frozen With Terror, Lucille Fount/ Herself Surrounded Threatening Masked Figures.
"Yes," she muttered faintly. "You have
news. Tell me —I am quite strong to bear any
thing after —this." Her eyes swept him with a
brief contempt, then flashed about her prison.
But the feeling was merely momentary, swal
lowed up In the great fear for those she loved.
"Lucille —" The spy's eyes fell before the
fear in the steady ones that met his own.
"Lucille, you are too young yet to know that in
the completion of any great work, always there
are those who must suffer. I do not attempt to
defend myself before you. I do not attempt to
boast, but you know that the enterprise of my
life has been the greatest mortal victory just as
the construction of a man is the most marvelous
Divine achievement." He stopped, evidently find
ing it hard to continue.
"I would not harm you, Lucille; would not
cause you one moment's grief or misery, phy
sical or mental, for anything in the world. But
I would allow not even the—yes, the love I bear
you because of your likeness to your mother to
stand in the .way of destroying you utterly
should you attempt to get in my path. And so I
am very happy today, very happy for myself
while I am, at the same time,.very unhappy be
cause of your distress. I know you cannot un
derstand my feeling. I only wish you to know
that you have stolen the fruits, the sweets of
my victory because knowing you has made it
pain for me to even so much as see your lips a
tremble."
"Victory?" She whispered the word aloud.
It dinned in her ears with maddening insistence,
drowning his tones completely. "Victory? You
mean ?"
Silently he put the newspaper in her out
stretched hand. She took it numbly, staring at the
black, leaded type heading the column, staring
at the familiar, the beloved name of her sweet
heart there. When she looked up Hugo Loubeque
was gone, had disappeared. But that did not
matter to her now. The nature of his disappear
ance did not even impress her. Nothing mat
tered The spy's victory was approaching com
pletion. One link in his plot had been welded,
making the remainder of the work simple. But
it was not complete. It was not yet finished.
Lucille looked about her wildly. She was a
prisoner, but before this she had been an apa
thetic prisoner, content to accept her solitary
confinement. Now, she was a wild woman. Now
everything that life held dear to her was being
taken away. She beat her tiny fists against the
window, then stopped at the utter futility of it.
She looked down and her eyes stared wide into
those of a pedestrian upon the sidewalk. It was
the captain of the ship who had been her friend.
She waved her hand, knowing from his expres
sion that he recognized her, that he had been
hunting her. He made a motion as of writing
and she nodded swiftly, then darted toward the
little dressing table.
And there she sat, dumb with misery. In
the delight of seeing a friend's face at the psy
chological moment, when her despair, her misery,
her desperation* was at- its height she had not
thought a simple thing like a pencil, a pen, ink,
paper might be necessary. They had always
seemed so inevitably close at hand she naturally
expected them. Again the realization of the care
with which she was entombed here came upon
her. She darted back to the window. The cap
tain had disappeared. Hopelessly, breathlessly,
she waited. It was half an hour before he re
turned and shot a swift glance toward her. Then
she realized that he was wise enough to make
his appearance on the street seem natural,
casual, .by not passing the place often. He
frowiHsd impatiently as she shook her head,
frowned and passed on with a significant glance
toward the house.
In despair Lucille looked about her. Paper
she had. She store the blank strip off the top of
the newspaper page, tore it so that the headline
regarding Lieutenant Gibson appeared beneath
it. She stared helplessly in the mirror, her teeth
fastened viciously in her lower lip, so viciously
that when she withdrew them a tiny drop of red
blood appeared upon the delicate skin. If only
she had a pencil or pen, something to writa
with—
The blood drop fell upon the paper, carmin
ing it. Lucille gasped delightedly. Her hand
seized a pin from the writing table and dabbled
at the blot. It had dried up. Nerving herself
she lightly jabbed the pin into the ball of her
thumb, ferverishly writing upon the blank paper.
How painful it .was I How swiftly the blood
dried ! But she must—she must—
"Prisoner of Loubeque—Here—Help—Read
head—"
She swayed slightly. She could endure the
torture no longer. It was sufficient. He could
piece together what he read, what she had told
him aboard the ship. But how to reach him
with the fragmentary strip of paper. She braeed
herself against the dizziness which the writing
had caused. Her heart was fluttering wildly. As
she rested her hand upon her bosom, the feel of
the ruby necklace met her fingers. The contact
telegraphed a message to her brain, a message
which caused her to tear the necklace from
about her throat, detaching a jewel swiftly and
wrapping the strip of paper about it. In one
leap she had reached the window. The captain
For a moment Lucille hesitated. She must
break the window pane and even then the wire
netting might be so close she could not toss the
notebound pellet of such priceless value to the
street. Swiftly she took a slipper from her foot,
drew back and brought the tiny heel crashing
against the glass. It was tough but her third
stroke opened it. At the sound of smashing glass
she heard a rustling without her door. The cap
tain looked up at her and, simultaneously she
filluped the round missile toward him, watched
him eagerly as he stooped to pick it up and then
thrust it hurriedly in his pocket, passing on
without so much as a nod, watched him with a
feeling of terror in her heart as she saw
Thompson, the butler, slip hurriedly out of the
door and take after him. There was something
pantherish, something of swiftness, of certainty,
of surety about the man that awed her. Then a
slight creaking, as of rusty hinges and she
stared about her in mute horror. She was mov
ing down and walls were advancing forward. She
was moving down and the room was moving with
her.
CHAPTER XXX.
On the Roof Tops.
PAJIE a little groan, a tremor running through
the walls of the room. Looking up she could
see solid steel walls passing into place where
the room she was in had been. Merely a cage,
an elevator had been the boudoir where she was
a captive. The machinery stopped working
abruptly. She felt a sudden terror of what could
happen next in this mysterious house of in
stantaneous entrances and exits. She peered over
the edge of the room, for she was merely
standing on a flat surface so far as one side was
concerned. To her ears came the insistent ring
ing of a bell. A huddled, black mass showed al
most beneath her. Crouching upon the floor she
leaned over and gingerly groped at it with her
fingers, drawing them sharply back as they en
countered human flesh.
For just a second she faltered before inves
tigating her discovery. Loubeque must have
come from her room in this fashion. It might be
that, in some way, Loubeque had fallen and in
jured the machinery. She peered more narrowly
at the man, and, her eyes growing accustomed
to the thick blackness, she made out the grim
features of the spy. To stoop down, take the
papers from his pocket, and hide them between
the crack of the floor of the room and the bot
tom of the elevator, was the work of an instant.
As the room glided gently into place with
out so much as a tremor, she leaped down and
lifted the groaning man's head to her lap. She
had come barely in time for the spy was strug
gling feebly to get to his feet. He smiled rue
fully as he lighted a match and scanned the fea
tures of his companion. For a second he ap
peared dazed, then swift consternation crossed
his face as his hand shot toward the place where
he had placed the stolen papers. Almost simul
taneously hia left hand closed about her wrist,
gripping it so tightly she kept from screaming
only by the sturdiest effort.
"Where did you put them—the packet?" ho
demanded.
Her mocking laugh answered him. The grip
tightened.
"Answer!" His voice was hoarse with sup
pressed passion. "Tell me the truth or—"
"You will break my wrist, I presume. That
seems quite in your line, sir." The gibing note
in her voice made him relax his grip with a lit
tle cry of mingled apology and chagrin.
"Come," he said quietly, his tones silky yet
dry and cold and hard. "Come, young lady. Of
course you understand the papers will be found
and this is merely delaying the inevitable."
He did not wait for her to speak, merely
touched her arm and assisted her to the platr
form. He stirred slightly. Came the whir of
machinery, almost immediately shut out. Once
more the room was in motion, going upward
this time. She closed her eyes instinctively be
fore the mystery of it all. When she opened
them once more she was in the place she had
left. Everything was as it had been save for a
broken window pane and the presence of Lon
beqne.
He regarded her narrowly, still smoking sil
ently. There was a glint of admiration in his
eyes, mingled with the. steady determination to
secure what he desired. His face, was smeared
with blood but, despite that, he retained the
same commanding, grim dignity and assurance.
He opened his lips as though to speak, then
closed them sharply and. stepped to the door,
listening a moment, then ringing a bell which
was almost immediately answered by the butler
and the woman who had first captured the girl.
Hurriedly Thompson explained what had
happened, the pebble-wrapped strip of white pap
er which the man outside had picked up, the
manner in which he had mysteriously disap
peared, eluding the butler's pursuit, the admis
sion of policemen to the house and the throwing
of the spring that lowered the girl's room to tho
basement.
"And he got out of the way, eh?" Loubeque
frowned thoughtfully, then laughed a dry, bark
ing laugh as he turned to the girl. "And with
all this luck working for you, Miss Lucille, you
see now how impossible it Is to escape. Now, I
shall leave you alone to reflect upon the advis
ability of restoring the packet to me. Until then
you will not be disturbed even by a servant.
You may recall, my child, that thirst is a very
unpleasant torture."
He closed the door behind him, very softly.
Not a sound came from without. Hunger—thirst
—solitude— All three in this prison, this prison
so much unlike a prison that it was rendered
only the more hideous thereby. And even though
outsiders knew she was being detained here,
they could not find her, could not even secure
adequate evidence that she was here did they
make an examination. True, Loubeque did not
have the papers and could do nothing until they
were found, but neither could she do anything
with them, did not even know how to go about
finding them She flung herself upon the
bed, burying her face in her hands and giving
way to sobs. Everything was so hopeless, the
way had been so long, and still stretched so in
definitely before her, the road that had no turn
ing, the road that seemed but to lead her further
and further from the ones she heJd so dear—
She straightened, startled by a faint tinkle
against the window pane. Swiftly she ap
proached the window. Upon the street no one
was in sight. She looked up and espied the face
of tlhe captain peering cautiously from over the
briclc wall above her.
Feverishly she ripped at the netting which
had been within the glass before she broke it.
Carefully she drew the glass inside and laid it
upon the floor. Tlhe netting gave slightly. She
tore her hands opening the space until she could
get. her shoulders through. Slowly, round and
round she worked the opening. It was finally
wide enough. She looked up. The captain nodded
briefly then disappeared.
In a moment he reappeared, slowly dangling
a heavy rope which he had made a looped chair
from. Lucille edged her way slowly through the
opening. She stood upon the heavy sill outside,
hanging to the netting with one hand the while
she readhed' for the rope with the other. The
second time her fingers closed about it. Swiftly
she tucked it about her skirts, then drew taut.
Her feet swung clear of the ledge. Back and
forth she gently swayed a second, fending her
self from the house with her right hand. Then
she felt herself being slowly lifted, lifted in lit
tle spasmodic jerks.
Strong tugs at the rope drew her closer and
closer to the brick cemented fringe that separ-*
ated the house from its neighbors. Her finger
tips brushed the top of these. Another pull and
she had a firm hold and was drawing herself
over. Powerful hands closed about her wrists,
when from belbw came a shout that told she had
been discovered.
With an oath the captain yanked her to tin
roof, jerked her there sp violently she toppled
and fell against him, straightened and caught
his arm to support herself.
From beneath them came sounds of pursuit,
hurrying footsteps upon stairs, loud voices.
Lucille seemed to have all the initiative now.
She grasped the man'si arm and hurried him to
ward the closest chimney just as a sky-light door
flung open where they had stood.
He drew a revolver and held it steadily
pointing toward the place. A chip of plaster
crackled at their feet. Lucille looked down at a
flattened/ lead bullet. Yet there had been no shot
fired. She stared incredulously at the man.
"A silencer—Maxim silencerj" he whispered.
She nodded understanding. Together thej
cVept in the shadow of the chimney toward th«
thin brick dividing wall, the sanded root scratch*
ing their hands terribly. Again that flutter ol
chips. The captain turned and fairly hurled a
shot from his revolver at the figures so cautious
ly approaching. A cry of pain followed the re
port and in the confusion, the pair made a short
rush.
The pursuit grew bold now. Rose the voice
of Loubeque, cold, steady, terrible.
"Don't waste shots. Get the man with lead.
Catch the girl."
The captain's grip tightened reassuringly on
her wrist. .
"If they <get me," he 6aid quietly, "take th«
gun and make them work."
She nodded, pressing his hand. Like fright
ened children they scurried from chimney ta
chimney, that silent pursuit always drawing
closer, the captain now and then turning td
throw a shot back at the common enemy. In the
excitement he became separated from Lucille.
She looked about, then uttered a cry of warn
ing. He took a step backward, then instinctively
lifted his elbow as though to avert a bullet. The
movement overbalanced him and he disappeared
over the edge, a groping, tumbling thing.
From every direction came the pursuit.
Lucille suddenly noticed there was no attempt
made to close in upon her but that she was be
ing driven in a certain direction. She stopped
fearfully, vaguely afraid of that which she could
not fathom. A bullet dashed a spray of sand
into her face and she darted aside —darted into
a yawning blackness.
When she opened her eyes, she was sur
prised to find that there had been no fall worth
mentioning, that she had merely been driven to
ward a trap door and caught as she toppled
down. Loubeque was watching her, a curiously
twisted smile playing about the corners of his
mouth.
"You have too many friends, Lucille," he
murmured, a hint of the same admiration in hia
voice that she had caught earlier in his eyes.
"Yes," he murmured, after a moment's sil
ence, "you are altogether too slippery, too nerve*
racking a prisoner. I think, while the search for
the packet ia going on, it would save wear and
tear on our constitutions to move you to my
ranch—my ranch in Mexico. A beautiful spot,
he smiled. "I trust you will enjoy it a 9 much as
I have."
Lucille looked at him steadily. In the eyes
of both glowed an indomitable purpose, a hard
resolve, a mutual admiration. Loubeque smiled
once more, this time grimly.
"Honors have been too even till now. I fancy
the ranch will settle the rubber satisfactorily—
at any rate, satisfactorily to me."
(Continued Next Week.),