LUCILLE LOVE, The Girl of M«sien,
A Soul thrilling Story qfJCove. devotion, ganger and Jntrique
*By the "MASTER TEjsf"
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 same girl, Sumpter Lovo proves Hugo Loubeque
a thief, and Loubeque Is dishonorably 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, steals valuable
papers from the Government safe of General Love.
Loubeque sails with them on the steamship Empress,
and General Love accuses Lieut. Gibson, his aiae ana
the sweetheart of his daughter Lucille, of the crl. e.
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 ana
to erase the stigma from her father's name, Lucille
£revails upon Harley. a government aviator, to take
er out to the ship, in his aeroplane. To foil Lucille,
Loubeque destroys the wireless apparatus on the Em
press and is hurt in the resulting explosion. In her
search for the papers, Lucille becomes 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. Lucille
Is rescued by friendly savages. She Is given an amulet
for curing the chiefs daughter, and It proved potent
against the machinations of Huso Loubeque, who. like
wise cast on the island, plans to get the papers. He
burns Lucille's hut, but she escapes with the precious
papers. He sends a decoy message asking her to co J
to the home of a neighboring chief, whose wife is 111
and In need of nursing. On the way there she rails
Into a covered pit, dug by Loubeque across her pat".
Her guide, an old crone, takes the papers from Lucille,
and gives them to Loubeque. who goes with them to
the Jungle. His guide and servant steals them, but Is
killed by a lion, and Lucille, who had trailed them
three days, recovers them 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
Wotherell 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 Loubeaue. aboard a liner,
and shadows him. She Is discovered during the trip to
San Francisco, 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 to a strange home with movable
floors and mysterious hooded figures and-—and Lou
beque. She steals the papers once more from him and
escapes, but is caught. Loubeque decides to send her
to his ranch In Mexico for safe-keeping.
CHAPTER XXXI.
Thompson Finds an Article of Interest.
A S Thompson, the butler-thief, swift-
A 'JaA ]y descended to the ground-floor
I I and out into the court to secrete
I 1 the °' tlie man wio k ad
■ fEfiami fallen from the roof top, there was
j no trace upon his immobile coun
-1 tenance of the desperate struggle
ill through which he had just been.
IJLf Every movement of the man
seemed timed, perfectly attuned.
As he bent 'over the body, one
leg of which was twisted out at a grotesque
angle, the habit of his life still clung. Kneeling,
his hands fluttered over the man like tiny, white
birds. Through the pockets he went, rifling them
completely and. replacing those things which
could be of no value to him. He stopped as he
unwrapped the note Lucille had written on the
scrap of paper and bound about the ruby.
For just a fractional space of time, incredu
lity, avarice, and puzJled delight fought for
mastery upon his face, in his eyes. Round and
round he turned the great, glowing ruby, his
flaming eyes matching in brilliancy the shafts of
light which the facets cast forth.
But Thompson was perfectly trained. Secret
ing the ruby in his pocket, he carefully lifted his
burden and carried it to the basement of the
house. When he was quite through with his task,
he carefully removed the traces of dust which
his gruesome task had forced upon him. Then
he took one last, loving look at his find and
started in search of his master. Already a plan
had entered his cunning brain to gain the rest
of the necklace, a plan whereby Loubeque was
to be no gainer.
CHAPTER XXXII.
A Thief Is Rudely Foiled.
QUIETLY, Lucille allowed herself to be con
ducted back to the room from which she had
just made her escape. Her heart was so heavy
she did not care what happened. Remembrance
of her mission had faded into a blank before
the omnipresent horror of the grotesque death
of the ship's captain who, out of the chivalry of
his own nature, had volunteered to save her.
Beside the broken window she Bat, plotting 1 ,
planning, scheming, doing anything to drive
away the morbid thoughts "which harried her,
the terrible visions that hovered everywhere
around her. She had tried her best but still fail
ure dogged her footsteps. Her sweetheart had
resigned l from the army under such a cloud as
must have broken his spirit completely. His
heart she knew, was already broken by her
seeming disbelief in him; her father was en
tangled in the same net with his aide. And she
held the key to the situation, a key with no
lock to fit. She alone knew where the papers
that would clear up the entire mystery were lo
cated and she was a prisoner of the man who
had not only woven but had also cast the net
about him.
"Mr. Loubeque's compliments, Miss Lucille,"
murmured the butler, as he noislesslji approached
with a tiny glass of liquor, "and he thought a
tiny sip might prove beneficial to the nerves."
"Thank you, Thompson," she murmured
sweetly. "Tell your present employer I shall
gladly do so. But," she added, her eyes flashing
maliciously, "I forgot Mr. Loubeque has been
your employer right along."
The man showed by no sign that the arrow
had pierced his perfect armor of deference. He
merely bowed.
"Quite so, Miss Lucille. Thank you."
Before his perfect aplomb, Lucille stood un
decided. Her nerves were shattered and the
drink, she knew, would do her good. But there
had been that look in the man's eyes. She could
not be mistaken ini it. Still, how would he dare
attempt anything in the houße of Loubeque? She
touched her tongue to the delicious, fiery stuff
and waited. A sensation of comfort slowly ap
proached her weary spirit, a feeling of lassitude,
delightful after the harrowing thoughts that had
annoyed her. She fought the sensation away,
confident that such a tiny sip would have no
such effect unless it had been doctored.
Pouring out the liquor carefully, she lay
against the pillows in a posture of dreamless
sleep. It was half an hour before her patience was
rewarded. Then Thompson slipped stealthily into
the room, a smile of eager triumph breaking the
mask of his face as he glanced toward her.
Lucille flexed herself, a steel spring wound to its
last notch.
Thompson approached swiftly, silently, with
a surety that she had' always identified with him,
which had made her regard him as a perfect
servant before, but which appalled her now. He
was beside her, leaning- over her, his hand grop
ing at her throat. First she thought he was
about to close his fingers upon her throat, but
they moved, swiftly, delicately, so lightly she
could scarcely feel their weight. A little ex
clamation of triumph as his finger pads touched
the necklace. It was in his hands. And then the
* - . ' '
HARRISBURG TELEGRAPH
steel spring l uncoiled with tremendous suddenness.
Taken by surprise before the vicious fury of
the girl's attack the butler staggered back. Be
fore he could/ recover was upon him, driving
him toward the door. He lifted his hands to
fend his face then stopped abruptly as he stag
gered into his master, just entering the room.
Hugo Loubeque waited, watching the furious
girl and the ruffled butler curiously. A smile
curved his lips as he turned toward her.
"You object to the draught, I presume. I
assure you it has no ill effects and will make
the journey one of pleasure instead of weari
ness." Then he whirled upon the butler, his face
hard as granite, his teeth clipping off each word
like steel particles.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to see if the draught had taken ef
fect," silkily murmured the butler.
"By what authority?"
"Asking your pardon, sir, but I suggested It
and was afraid it might have a bad effect. I
grew to take an interest in Miss Lucille in
Manila, sir, and did not wish—•"
Loubeque frowned heavily but out him short
with an impatient wave of his hand. Lucille felt
a sudden impulse to tell him the truth but con
quered it swiftly. She could fight Thompson
much easier than this man. She must keep her
own council. The spy turned to her again.
"You did not take the draught?"
"No!"
"I assure you on my word as a gentleman
that it will cause you no inconvenience. Further,
I hoped not to be obliged to tell you that if
you do not take it willingly, you will be com
pelled to get it down."
She bent her head docilely. Resistance was
out of the question, and, after all, she must save
her strength to fight the big things. As he turned
to give an orier to the butler she interposed.
"I will (lo as you ask," she said quietly.
"But I would prefer a woman's bringing it to
me. Also I would like your word that I shall
have the constant attendance of a woman whil#
it is effective."
Hugo Loubeque bowed slowly, and, waving
his servant before him left the room. Lucille,
ten minutes later, accepted the fragile glass from
the mysterious woman who had abducted her at
the wharf. After a moment's hesitation, a shud
der at. the enticing colors shed from the stuff,
she drained the glass.
Languor—comfort— peace—. She gave her
self up to the drug with a prayer; a prayer she
felt so certain would be heeded, that, "in her
slumber, a smile parted her lips, played about
her countenance. And when she awoke she was
at Loubeque's Mexican ranch.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
At the Wishing Well.
L° w - rambling houses of Spanish architecture
dotted the great area which the curiously fan
tastic, wholly artistic fence enclosed. The
grounds were laid out in orderly fashion, bloom
ing like the Garden of Eden with a riotous pro
fusion of flowers that rested their heavy per
fumes lazily upon the ether, blending and har
monizing yet never cloying and never oppressive,
Monstrous cacti, tiny hedgerows, minute sword
palms, bayonet trees, everything seemed to have
> sought this soil. Never a suggestion of the lack
of originality which the landscape gardner gives
an estate, but showing a decided character that
would have told the most undiscerning something
of the owner's character.
This new Loubeque! Always had she asso
ciated him with the manner of her knowing him.
Times he had been tender, other times he had
been cruel, always was he crafty, cunning, cour
ageous, a one-ideal man. But now he seemed all
poet, painter. She could hear the softened tones
of his voice as, with some of his companions, he
wandered about the grounds, tenderly explain
ing to them the history, the beauty of the flow
ers, the rare species he had imported for the
place. Always would he show a tender regard
for the beauty of Nature which struck Lucille
as almost feminine. She feared this man more
than she did the one of the diary, feared him
because she was learning that the warm climate
was sapping her of her purpose, forcing lethargy
upon her more powerful than bands of iron.
It was after one. of these rambles that she
noticed signs of some impending change about
the menage. It was while she watched the spy
wandering about the gardens of a morning, won
dering at the tenderness with which he would
bend, to the flowers, inhaling the fragrance, ex
amining their buds and blossoms, that he sud
denly walked toward her, entering the house to
shortly enter her room.
"1 am leaving today," he began abruptly, all
the nature-lover gone from his cold, stern man
ner. "Again I ask you to tell me where you put
the papers."
"Then they haven't been found—" She
stopped abruptly, realizing that her delight had
revealed quite as much as his demand.
Loubeque shook his head, studying her face
keenly, evidently recognizing the steel of an un
breakable nature. He held out his hand and
clasped her own, his eyes steadily fastened upon
her face.
"I am sorry, Lucille, that you cannot see the
folly of this. It is your last chance to tell mo.
It is your last chance to count me a friend. I
am waiting."
She did not answer. Their eyes met and
held, both filled with an unaltered purpose. Then
Loubeque, without a word, left the room.
Nor did she see him again. That he had
gone she knew from the laxness about the
household, among his servants. It gave her food
for hope. She must escape. She must. She must
escape before the iron grip of dreamy languor
about the place became unbreakable.
She had to fight against losing thought of
everything in this bower of content. Human
emotions seemed so far away from the spiritual
ones which reached out and grasped at her with
greedy fingers. She could close her eyes and.
lulled by the intoxicating perfumes, wander off
into day dreams of fancy rarer even than those
which had come to her maiden soul in the hours
when her sweetheart was by her side and per
fect happiness dwelt in her heart and shadows
dared not intrude.
But always when she wandered thus, always
when her feet moved with her spirit, she would
encounter one of Loubeque's aides, always
masked, always casually surprised at coming
upon her, always urbane and polite yet insistent
upon turning her in an opposite direction. The
surveillance was of such a nature as never to be
obtrusive and never to be out of her mind. It
seemed so incongruous in this place, just as the
appearance of a horde of wild beasts might have
appeared incongruous.
It got upon her nerves to such an extent
that she finally took to the house and remained
there. She felt the prison atmosphere here and
there was no auch startling contrast between the
dream and the reality to bring her from out the
clouds of her dream spirit. Every room was
grated and, though she knew they were not here
for the purpose, they served it admirably.
From here her resolution was always clear
before her, her purpose indomitable. Looking out
upon the courtyard from her grated window,
there was something ominous about the striped
Spanish sword grass, the giant cacti with its
huge fingers pointing heavenward, the stone
patio that suited the mood of resolution into
which she had forced herself and 1 against which
the heavy odors of the flowers, the blossoming
citrus and orange trees made but scant headway.
Idling here, yet always, plotting the first
move to be made when she escaped, she noticed
the slightest trifle, grew acutely sensitive ,to
every incident.
Thompson seemed upon his master's depart
ure to have lost poise as thoughts of the ruby
necklace his fingers had touched seared itself
upon his brain.
She recalled how he had served in her
father's house so long with never a suspicion
from anyone that he was other than the perfect
butler with a thought outside of his work. And
then she recalled the incident of the necklace,
the manner of his entering the room when he
thought her tinder the influence of the drug, the
nimble fingers that caressed her throat without
touching it— Always would she shudder at the
recollection, then deliberately drive it from her
mind.
It was the fourth day since the departure
The Turned to Her Again. "You Did /Vot Take the Draught ?" Hm Said.
of the master of the place, that, standing beside
her iron barred window, she saw the figure of a
man topping a rise in the distance and drawing
swiftly nearer. There was something strangely
familiar about him, something she seemed to re
call. About fifteen yards away he' held a short
conversation with a sentry who sprang out be
fore him. The man nodded, satisfied, and moved
away. In slashed bolero, tight trousers and gold
braided sombrero of straw, his long black hair
waving gracefully to his shoulders, the man
made an impressive figure as he fastened steady,
undeviating eyes upon her window until she was
positive he was looking at her for a purpose.
Suddenly, his right hand shot up and remained
there in an obvious signal. After a moment he
spurred his horse to the court yard and stamped
inside. Low voices hummed in conversation, then
the man appeared before her, offering his arm.
"Senor Loubeque sent me that I might es
cort you about the grounds, might place myself
at your disposal," he murmured.
Lucille drew away from him at mention of
his master, but something in the meaning eyes
behind the mask reassured her and she moved
out into the patio. Here they passed Thompson,
whose eyes darted a message of suspicion at
them, whose body seemed intent upon following.
She felt the biceps of her escort flexing even
after they were out of sight.
"He thinks all is not right," said the man
quietly. "Well," he added with a low sigh, "he
is right in his suspicion. I could not hope to
fool that man. Only a little less wise is he than
Hugo himself."
"Not right!" Exclamation and' question it
was. She drew away, clasping her hands delight
edly. "Then you have come to help me—"
"I have come," he answered quietly, "be
cause I could not help coming. I have come be
cause since first I looked upon you—you will for
give me—there in the city home of Hugo, when
I looked upon your face I have seen no other. I
have come because I could not stay away. I have
come against the will of the man to whom I
owe everything, the man I love, because you
called me, because—"
She touched his arm lightly with her fingers
in mute appeal. Her woman's instinct told her
that such a love as this might be turned to ac
count, and, though she hated herself for the
self-divination, she knew the woman in her
would urge along anything to save her sweet
heart. The blood of the leopard is that of the
purring house-cat.
Slowly they wandered through the beautiful
gardens, speaking of what they saw, yet never
touching upon the subject nearest both their
hearts. Suddenly the man seemed unable to
stand the strain longer and she touched his arm
sympathetically, but he drew away with a little
cry of near-pain.
"Come with me to the crystal ball," • he
cried, "and see the vision that has haunted my
eyes so long a time. Come with me to the
crystal and see the face that has made me for
get my vows, forget the one I love and fear, for
get everything save the desire for life that I
may lay down to bring a smile to it. Come with
me to the crystal and see the face that, close
my eyes tightly as I may, will always stand in
that narrow slit between the lid and retina; see
the face that has made me cry through the
night, cry to the moon and to the . stars, to every
thing in Nature for aid in gaining it; see the
face that peeps at me from the heart of the rose
and makes the rose blush for its own tawdriness.
Come with me, lady of my heart."
Before the tempestuousness of his voice,
Lucille followed his lead. Gone from her was
every thought of immediate escape. She saw
that the man could not be handled easily, that
she could not escape from him any more than
ohe could from the other minions of the spy
without the use of craft. And yet she felt a
curious sympathy for him, pain that she must
harm him.
Before the great crystal ball that was
upon the flagging beside the patio fountain, be
side which stood the monstrous, hoary, grfy
palm tree, he halted, staring through the slits of
his mask into its clear depths. She trembled an
she looked' upon the flaming eyes so close to the
reflection of her own face. Suddenly he tore the
mask from him and tossed it to one side, closing
his arm fiercely about her waist and drawing her
soft cheek against his swarthy one. Together they
stared into the ball, his eyes lumiilous with a
wild love, hers moist with mingled sympathy and
fear. Gently she disentangled bis fingers, sur
prised at the numbness of them, the ease with
which they responded to her will.
"You must go back," he murmured hoarsely,
"I was mad to think of such a plan."
She did not answer for a moment. Two
great tears slowly welled to her eyes, rested on
the fringe of lashes a moment then splashed
upon his hand. He stared at them stupidly, rev
erently. «
"I see a face," she murmured softly, her
voice very low and far away. "I see a face and a
scene that is different from the one you see. I
see Manila —home—loved ones—loved ones griev
ing for a girl they think is lost to them for
ever. I see a man, the handsomest, bravest,
truest man in the world—the man I love. He is
disgraced. He is heart broken. He is giving up
the sword he loved, the sword he swore to never
lift save in defense of his country's honor and
the honor of a woman. He is giving up all that
life holds dear to him, just as he has long since
been bereft of all he cared to have from life,
because I am imprisoned here."
She stopped, her eyes large and luminous
and far away as though the scene was actually
mirrored in the ball. Slowly she continued.
"And I—do not care for anything except his
happiness. I do not care for freedom, I do not
care for anything except his happiness. He is all
I have to love. He is my whole world. I would
sacrifice everything for him and for his honor."
She turned swiftly, her hands reaching toward
her neck and unfastening the ruby necklace.
"Here, my friend, take this. It is all I have to
give except my gratitude. Take it and help me
to the man I love."
He took the necklace, turning it idly about
in his hands,- then hungrily lifted his eyes to her
face, as though inanimate beauty was a thing
of no account in comparison. He took her arm
again and thoughtfully led her, round devious
paths, to a deep, sunken well, before which ho
paused, a curious smile upon his lips.
"It is the Wishing Well," he murmured, "the
Wishing Well before which all who have looked
into the crystal ball and seen that their heart
most desires must kneel and make request. It is
the legend, but, ah! —" He turned away to hide
the swift contortion of jealousy and pain that
suffusedi his face. "But I," he continued quietly,
"I cannot wish, my lady, for all that life holds
/"dear, all that life might promise has gone from
out my heart and left me nothing but ashes. '
Look into the Wishing Well, my lady, and make
request."
She knelt beside the well obediently, almost
fearful of the magic powers he ascribed 1 to it,
knelt while he stood over her, staring longingly
at her exquisite figure, the beautiful face mir
rored so plainly back at him by the hushed wa
ters. She clasped, her hands.
"Oh, Wishing Well, let me but hold in my
hands the honor of my sweetheart that I may
give it back to him; let me but serve his hap
piness and I shall ask for nothing more. Do
with me as you desire but grant my only wish."
He touched her lightly upon the arm and
she rose obediently, her eyes glowing like jewels
at the privilege of baring all the emotion that
had been locked within her heart, with never a
chance for expression. Lightly he tossed the *
ruby necklace up and down, in his palm, then
placed it gently about her neck.'
"One look in your eyes," he said softly, his
mellow voice breaking under the tormefit of
what he knew to be a hopeless love, "is more
beautiful, more rare, more precious to me than
any jewel. And I shall treasure each look in the
hours when my soul suffers because I have been
faithless to the man I reverence and love. Come."
Lucille stooped swiftly, plucking a rose from
the bush beside her and Impulsively lifting it to
her lips and crushing them against the petals.
Blushing with confusion, she offered it to him.
He took it reverently, staring at the dew drop
upon one of its petals. A miraculous dew drop,
for the grass was dry and no other liquid dia
mond sparkled anywhere about." <
Slowly, silently, yet in perfect understand-
Ing, they moved back to the house.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Thompson's Plans Qo Wrong.
JT was the following day that, leaning against
the window grating of iron, she was aston
ished to find it bending before her. She looked
more closely and was astonished to find that one
bar had been cut cleanly through. She
the remainder of the bars. They appeared ab
solutely untouched but when she pulled harshly
at them, every one gave way. For half an hour
she did not realize what had happened. Then •
thrill of thanlregiving went throbbing through
her heart. Ready-made was her means of escape.
Almost simultaneously with the though*
oame another and more terrifying one. This was
probably not a means of escape so much as •
means of entrance. Instantly her mind flashed
a picture of the silent Thompson. First she was
tempted to call for help and expose the man,
Second thought advised against this. No on*
must know about the rubies, no one must know
about priceless stones. But what could she do?
She was still pondering the problem thai
night when still fully dressed she stood beside
the window looking out over the moon-splashed
patio. A furtive figure detached Itself from the
shadow* and crept toward her. Strangely enough
cV nofc fri ß*te* her to recognize the butler.
She had tried her strength against the man onoa
and knew that she could call for assistance
should ha enter the room.
She crouched in the opposite side of the *
room, listening to the faint tinkle of snapping
iron bars as the man detached the ends from
their sockets. His head and shoulders appeared
in the opening. Longer and longer grew his
shadow in the room, then the faintest pat as he
slipped to the floor.
Breathlessly she watched his aproach. There
was nothing undecided about his movements. He
was Bwift; he wad* certain; he was sure. Not a
motion, not a step was wasted. His whole body
was colled like a spring, ready to leap in any di
rection, yet there was no fear or indecision about
It. He was almost over the bed, when Lucillo
sprang from her hiding place behind the door.
Instantly he turned, his head darting 1 from
side to side like that of a giant reptile, his beady
eyes holding her own and striking terror into
the very soul of her. She realized in a flash what
It meant to stop a desperate thief in the midst
of his marauding, realized that the man she al
ways thought of as a servant was now a hunted
beast, cornered and at bay. Icy fingers clutched
at her spine, while little ants* nests of nerves
tingled at the back .of her neck. Thompson did
not speak. Slowly his hands opened and closed,
while a grin crossed his face, widened his mouth,
a hideously inhuman grin. She tried to cry out
but her lips were frozen shut. The capable
hands, the hands she recalled as always being so
competent to handle anything', were opening and
closing as he advanced upon her, with swiftness,
with certainty and with sureness, as though al
ready they felt in their strong yet delicate pads,
the feel of her throat.
He had almost reached her side when he
stopped suddenly, whirling toward the window.
Lucille unconsciously followed the direction of
his gaze. A long arm, the jacket sleeve of which
was slashed and pieced out with gold-trimmed
doe-skin was being extended into the room. Just
an arm it was, yet the hand that tipped It ex
tended still further within the room by reason
of a long revolver it held. From the darkness
outside came a hissing sound, an angry, snake
like sound. Then, simultaneously,' with the drop
ping of Thompson to the floor, an orange spurt
of fire leaped into the room, the whine of a bul
let struck against her ears. But no report.
Lucille staggered back as her defender, the
lover who had promised his assistance, leaped
lightly into the room. His hand was upon her
arm, his lips at her ear. Beading his thoughts,
yet hearing nothing, she moved toward the win
dow and lifted her tiny foot as though to mount
a horse. His hands cupped about it. She vaulted
to the casement and, in a second, had scrambled
through. The breath of the open, redolent with
all the perfumes of the night, assailed her nos
trils and she opened her mouth, laving her throat
with them. £
By her side stood the man. For a moment
he waited, then urged her forward. She was
free, free, free! Of course there were pickets to
be passed, but she had made one providential
escape tonight, why not another.
Out of sight of the building she paused and
looked about her. How calm and peaceful and
friendly appeared the night. On such a night
Leander swam the Hellespont and here, beside
her, stood another Leander who would brave as
much, had already braved more than ever did
fabled hero. The moon was full, rolling lazily
about atop a mountain peak as though shaking
his jolly sides with laughter at this triumph of
one he loved. The stars winked merrily at her,
urging her on her way. Looking back at the
building from which she had come it appeared
made of silver and all the windows were dia
monds crusted there, the rigid leaves of the
bayonet trees stretched upward as though guard
ing it, sentinel-like, against intrusion from the
outside. The touch of a timid finger upon her
arm brought her from her reveries.
* "The horses wait, my lady."
Came a swift flashing of lights from the
house they had left behind, a scurry of feet, the
sound of voices, loud, shrill, insistent. The Mexi
can seized her arm fiercely and half dragged her
from off the oourt to a clump of bushes where
two horses stood, saddled and bridled. In a sec
ond was in the saddle, the man beside her.
The clatter of hoofs rang out upon the sil
ence. Looking back she caught glimpses of dark
figures silhouetted against the tropical vegeta
tion in the patio. A spurt of fire leaped out at
them like a living thing. The Mexican muttered
a guttural oath and urged his horse to more
speed. Lucille bent over her horse's head, bent
low, for the whine of bullets was in the air
about them.
Suddenly the Mexican grunted loudly. His
hands shot high in the air, then the horse fairly
ran from under him. Upon the ground he
swayed a second then leaped against the shadow
of a giant fingered cactus plant. Lucille sprang
from her saddle and sought his side.
Red, warm blood gushed l from the wound In
his chest. But not more red it was than the
rose his tightening fingers clasped unto his
heart, a rose fromi which the dew drop of the
day betfore had disappeared. His eyes were glaz
ing when she stooped and brushed her lips across
his forehead. A shadowy smile crossed his face
as he opened his eyes once more, eyes that were
soft and tender before they glazed.
"Go!" he muttered. "Go!" Then his voice
took on the resonant tone of a scant day or less
before. "It is the ripple of the Wishing Well,
my lady. Go! the one—your —heart—<
desires."
He stiffened suddenly and a spurt of tear*
came from her eyes. Louder grew the shouts,
the voices. The sir was alive with long, darting
flames. Loubeque's hive was swarming.
She leaped into the saddle once more and
dug her heels into the horse's sides. Through the
night she rode with all the Devils of Hell behind
her and all the fear of a thousand times as
many demons In her heart, but with the ripple
of the Wishing Well in her ears.
{Continued Next Week.)
. * '
♦