LUCILLE LOVE, The Girl of Mystery
ASoulJhriUing Story of&ove,
'By ihe "MAS TEH TEJV"
Copyright, 1914. All moving picture right a reserved by the Universal Film Manufacturing Company, who
are now exhibiting this production in leading theaters. Infringements will be vigorously prosecuted.
CHAPTER XXXX.
An Interrupted Appeal.
fOR a long 1 time, Lucille Hid not
trust herself to speak. Her eyes
fearfully sought the room which
had started to press down upon
her and was still suspended mid
way of ceiling and basement floor.
Then she looked at the outstretched
palm of the man who stood, so
coolly smoking there in the door
way. She clasped the packet of
papers to her breast, her eyes dart
ing a defiance to him, a defiance which he af
fected to ignore entirely.
"The papers, Miss Lucille, if you please."
Again that insistent, mildness of tone which she
knew there was no successful resisting.
For the fleeting second she wondered what
■would happen did she refuse, wondered what
diabolical thing might enter his brain when he
found himself defied. A glance at the room
■which had started to descend upon her drove
the thought away as quickly as it brought a
shudder through her slender frame. Slowly, re
luctantly, she held out the packet to him, watch
ing him furtively as, with the utmost courtesy,
he bowed and placed it in his breast pocket.
Slowly he conducted her up the stairs. Tn
his private room he motioned her to a chair,
seating himself at the desk.
"I am not going to threaten you again." he
said quietly. "I wish you to know that this is
the last time you can interfere with my plans.
Also I wish to congratulate you on your perse
verance and cleverness in the art of disguise.
You have," ha added with a smile, "made it
necessary for the servants to place the sign re
garding agents and beggars over the back en
trance. But, Miss Lucille, I stood and watched
you from this very window, hoping that you
would gain access to the house because I knew
exactly what has happened would inevitably oc
cur did you succeed. Child, can you not be made
to see what folly it is—this fight against me?"
"Mr. Loubeque," she said softly, "have you
never grieved that it is impossible for the finer
feelings you are continually suppressing to be re
turned because your ambitions are cruel and
base? I do not like to wage this constant war
with you; I do not like to battle with the man
■who has been so kind to mc, in his own way,
that I could love him as another father. But you
would take from me; for whom you were will
ing to give up life itself to spare me one pang
of physical anguish, everything that life holds
dear. You would ruin my father; you would
wreck my sweetheart's life. You would keep me
* apart from perfect happiness, after I have mere
ly peeked through the door of that happiness
only to have it slammed shut in my face. Can't
you see that it is you who must go down to de
feat? Can't you see that Love such as supports
a frail girl to battle with you as I have done
will not be downed by the most powerful man?
Can't you see that I cannot stop even if I do
sometimes grow very tired and sick at heart
and pray to this soul of mine to let me lie down
for a little while and rest? Rest—Rest—" She
broke off with a sob of the most acute distress.
"There is no such' word as rest for me. Always
it is go on—go on—constantly go on until it
seems T must fall along the wayside. But I do
' not fall, I have never fallen and, if you will
honestly retrace the path of our conflicts sincef
, first they started, you will find, will see that
what. I have said is true because—though the
papers are in your possession now—l have won
from you constantly. I have always won and I
shall always continue TO win. And you know it,
Mr. LOubeque, for I can see it on your face—
now."
Like one inspired she was as the halting
tones of her plea changed to those of passionate
conviction, a certainty that expressed itself in
words tumbling from the tongue with' utter
abandon, words that seemed to come from other
Jjps than her own. And as Loubeque looked
back at the beautiful figure of the girl, he was
surprised to see that suddenly ■ she seemed to
have changed, that the slip of'a child who had
come on board the Empress from the hydroplane
of the army aviator and whom he had always
recalled as the veriest child, whom he disliked
to war with, felt ridiculous allowing her to ob
trude upon his plans for one instant, had sud
denly become a woman of such capacity for love
and hate as even he himself did not have. He
read it in the gorgeously glowing eyes, the
mantling cheeks, the quivering lines of her
countenance as well as her form.
As swiftly she changed, the mood melting
back to the one he had always associated with
the memory of her mother, the girl he had loved
and whom he still loved as fondlv as in the old
days of Flirtation Walk al the Point from which
he had been expelled. Swiftly she came to his
side, placing her hand upon his shoulder, her
voice low and tender again, like the sighing of
an April breeze through the greening baby
leaves.
"You think you are working for Hate and
all the time you are working for the same rea
son that I am -you are working because of Love.
You cannot deny it even to yourself. You know
it. You are working to revenge your-elf upon
the one who won the woman you loved from you.
You know love and still you wAuld take it tmt
of the heart of the child of that woman. Can
you not, see what a frightful wrong you are do
ing. (an you not see what a perversion of love
is this thing you constantly seek to do? Can you
not —"
Lucille could feel the man's shoulders tremb
ling, could mark the tremendous effort he made
at self control. She was almost ready to plead
with him for a return .of the papers, to give up
his entire life work and count it failure, con
fident that he was well along the road to doing
so, when a rap sounded on the. door.
) For some reason which she could not define,
a shudder ran through her at the sound. She '
seemed to recognize a sinister presence close by
There was something individual about the light
tapping sound that she could almost identify.
She glanced at Loubeque. and her heart sank as
she saw the wave of emotion she had bred with
in him had passed, that he was again the icy
indefatigable international spy.
"Come in," he called briskly.
CHAPTER XXXXI.
Loubeque Loses Bit Temper.
gLOWL?, cautiously, yet with not the slightest
uncertainty the door pushed open. Before the
visitor appeared on the threshold, Lucille knew
who it would be. Thompson's face was grave,
emotionless, impassive, that of the perfect serv
ant in every colorless detail as he entered the
room, standing before his master attentively,
with a deferential bow to the girl.
For a moment she was taken aback by his
perfect aplomb. She knew he had been the one
who robbed her of her necklace, that he had
sprayed her with ether and taken it from about
her throat while she slept. And yet not so much
as by the quiver of aa eye lash did he show any
sign of surprise or fear.
"I was delayed, sir," the butler began apol
ogetically, when Loubeque lifted his hand im
peratively.
"You were delayed," coldly repeated the spy,
separating every syllable and meting it out as
though it wcv> a death judgment. "It is per
haps better (hat you Were delayed, Thompson, t
have just received a letter from a man with
whom you are acquainted. Tn this letter, Thomp
son, he informs me he intends turning traitor
to my interests, that he intends assisting Miss
Love to make her escape."
"Quite so, sir," murmured the butler-thief.
"There arc reasons he mentions for inducing
him to turn traitor to me which I will not dis
cuss. However," he thumped his clenched fist
harshly upon the table, "there is one paragraph
which will be of absorbing interest to you. I am
informed by him that he spied upon you while
you cut through the bars of Miss Love'in window."
Thompson did not stir. His face retained its
expression of dignified calm. But Lucille saw
the scar go a sickly white.
"The man lied, sir."
"Men do not lie at such moments."
For just a moment Thompson was silent.
The hush upon the room was so profound as to
make the ticking of Loubeque's watch strike
upon the ears like mallej; (Strokes. Slowly the
butler's index finger moved to the scar upon his
cheek. There was a dignity about the gesture,
about his manner which made the girl hold her
breath, so convincing it was.
"The man you speak of evidently did the
work in the hope of releasing Miss Love. He suc
ceeded in that design. I do not wish to speak
of it, sir, but this sear upon my face is a fresh
scar. I would not have mentioned such a trifle
had it not been for the subject's -.being brought
up. I gained this scar while trying to prevent
the flight, sir."
"It's a lie," Lucille burst forth passionately,
meeting the steady calm stare of the butler with
eyes that carried such flame he averted his own.
Loubeque looked up sharply. For some rea
son he had felt that the excuse, plausible thotigh
it was, carried no truth. He knew the man for
a thief and had always mistrusted him. even
though he had found him remarkably efficient
and capable of great things. He looked curiously
at the girl.
"A lie?" he murmured.
"A lie," she repeated. "That man tried to rob
me here in this very house. That was why I in
sisted upon a maid to serve me when I took the
drug you put in the drink."
"Why did you not mention it at that time?"
The spy's tones were dubious.
"Because I did not wish you to know I had
anything of such value about me."
"Value? You had no money when you left
Manila."
"No. But I obtained possession of a won
derful ruby necklace in the cavern of the jungle,
just before I was rescued by "the filibuster. But
that has nothing to do with it. Thompson did
saw through the bars of my window and would
have succeeded in stealing the necklace a sec
ond time had it not been for the brave man who
appeared in the nick of time and Shot him. He
helped me to escape because he knew I was not
safe there."
"A ruby necklace—" Still Loubeque was in
credulous.
"Three nights ago when I boarded the train
for here, that man drugged me while I slept and
stole the necklace from about my throat. Then
he dropped out the window of his compartment.
That is why he w-as detained."
Loubeque fastened his cold eyes upon the
butler. The man had nerves steady as a rock.
Only a faint smile of pity for the girl who made
this charge played about the corners of his
mouth. Lucille studied the judge and culprit
earnestly. She could see that Thompson was
beating down the spy's belief in her story. After
all, it did sound ludicrous, unbelievable that she
should have such treasure upon her person.
Finally she saw that, the butler had almost suc
ceeded by his very silence, his physical attitude,
in convincing his master of his innocence. Swift
as a flash, without a second thought, she darted
toward the thief. She had noticed his fingers
involuntarily seek the right hand breast poeket
of his coat when she made her charge. In one
swift movement she had ripped open the coat.
With (he other hand she plunged toward the
place she knew the necklace to be.
At first Thompson was taken off guard. Then
he sprang back with a hoarse erv of rage and
alarm, forgetful of everything. The girl clung
to her hold like a tigress. He grasped her wrist
roughly and thrust her reeling across the room,
his eyes glaring as, with clenched fists he stared
at her while, dazed though she was bv the vio
lence of him. she held triumphantly in' her hand
the gorgeously dazzling ruby necklace.
Hugo Loubeque did not utter a sound, did
not change expressions for one instant. Slowly,
with all the leisurely grace of some giant animal
he rose and stepped toward his minion. The fel
low crouched away from him, his eyes darting
furtively hither and thither about' the room,
seeking some means of escape. The hands of
Loubeque opened and closed. Closer, closer he
came.
The cold expression in his eyes had turned
to one of grim ferocity, such an expression as
made Lucille shudder. Her rage against the
cringing thief disappeared in the desire she felt
to save him from those terribly hungry hands,
Thompson seemed hypnotized, fascinated, unable
to lift his hands for defense, to open his lips for
pleading. The fingers reached out and gripped
him about the throat, pressing—pressing—
Not hurriedly but with cold, definite, mur
derous purpose the spy slowly forced the strug
gling figure into limpness then cast him from
him without apparently making the slightest ef
fort, rubbing his palms slowly together as though
the touch had defiled them.
Lucille was chilled with horror as she
watched the spy reseat himself, his face calm
and emotionless. Apparently he had quite for
gotten the huddled, silent figure upon the floor,
whose blackened face was slowly regaining Its
color. Apparently it was one of the methods he
used to inspire confidence in the men under him
who possessed uncontrollable traits such as the
butler's zest for thieving, which came in useful
to his master at times. Thompson was groaning
when Loubeque impatiently pressed a button and
waited for an answer.
It came even before he expected. A loud
clanging of bells through the house punctuated
the silence, a clanging that pierced through the
treble sound of the door bell. Hugo Loubeque
sprang to his feet swiftly, the mask of his face
dropped and showing that face keen, eager, a bit
perturbed.
He sprang to the window, crouching behind
the curtains and peerinar down, his expression
that of hawk-like eagerness, measuring the plum
met that,_ will land most securely upon the vic
tim. Lucille stood at the opposite window, her
heart thudding violently.
The clanging sound was augmented by the
rushiag of feet. She had lumsr dreamed there
IJP • •
HARRISBURG TELEGRAPH
could be so many in the house. More like a
warren it was than anythiog else. Whispers
sounded from the halls. But she g'ave them all
no heed. She was swaying gently to and fro,
her body fighting 1 against the faintness that was
causing her knees to refuse support, her eyes
wide with delighted recognition nnd love and
dishelief. And then she opened her lips trying
to cry out aloud the name of the man she loved,
the man she had woi*ked so hard for, the man
who stood in the street below, staring up at the
very window at, which she stood. But all that
came from her lips was the faintest, sound,
tremulous, pitiful; the whisper of his name.
Before she could regain control of herself,
even realize that she really was seeing her
The Fingers Reached Out and Gripped Him About the Throat, Pressing— Pressing.
sweetheart here, in flesh and blood, the hand of
Loubeque was about her waist, drawing her gent
ly but firmly away from the window. Instinctive
ly her eyes flashed a last look down, all the
frailty of her woman's nature reaching out in
that glance to the masculine sweetheart, beg
ging for his strong arm to aid and assist her.
Gone from her was all the strength and initia
tive and courage that had enabled her to brave
the dangers she had been through for his sake,
gone was everything save her desire for him to
save her. And, even as the casement shut out
her view of him, she caught the lightning flash
of recognition as her appeal drew his own eyes
to that window. And she knew he had seen her.
Loubeque restrained her firmly. He did not
speak but as she flashed a triumphant glance at
him, a laughing look that defied him to do his
worst, his face was seamed with sorrowful
thought. The clanging of the bells throughout
the house ceased instantly, just as a loud ham
mering on the door below rose. Came a flying
rush of men within the room, filling it complete
ly. Loubeque swiftly glanced about at the anx
ious faces, then nodded.
"The tunnel," he cried sharply.
Lucille sprang once more to the window as
his grasp upon her was removed. From below she
heard the hammering upon the door but could
not see the rescuing party. Suddenly she came
aware that the room was shooting downward,
like a giant, elevator. She glanced about her,
sick with apprehension, upon the faces so close
to her own in the narrow confines. A breath of
rank, cool air fanned her cheek from out the
darkness. Loubeque's hand was upon her wrist,
his voice softly advising her to follow him. Far
in the distance a little speck of light reached
out toward them.
For what seemed an endlfess distance she
was led by the spy,, with always that rush of
feet behind. The light was growing broader,
brighter. Loubeque released his hold upon her.
could see him reach and press harshly
against something, a door evidently, for the
light slowly lengthened and broadened. Day
light and a foreign street.
A strange street, from the one upon which
she had seen the man for whose sake she was
here; a strange street yet close to that man.
Close?
A bitter sob broke from her lips as she
looked at Loubeque and realized how infinitely
far away she was from him.
CHAPTER XX XXII.
"At thie Third Hoot of the Owl, Leave!"
D AYS upon the desert—blistering days with
merciless sunlight pouring from the molten
kettle overhead, burning savagely at the im
pervious sand and cacti that alone had resisted
the fire so many ages. Days where the frightful
monotony of scene, the brutish stupidity of the
humans who lived in the atmosphere of it but
made a telescopio lens through which the world
was shut out that the memory-picture of home
so ever-present with Lucille might be intensified.
Nights of cold, unwinking stars; stars piti
less in their steady undeviating scrutiny as the
glower of sun. Nights where the desert breeze
searched out fhe marrow of the bones. Nights
surrounded by the minions of Loubeque, by
Loubeque himself. Nights of sleeplessness for
herself but nights filled with the sounds of the
slumbers of her captors. "
Save Hugo Loubeque. Loubeque never slept.
Tireless, indomitable, a figure apart from
everything, intent upon one object and that one
hidden from all save Lucille, she saw he had
steeled himself against her now, that never again
would she be able to penetrate his pitilessness
in the pursuit of his previous revenge.
(.lose at hand was the hour for him to
strike; ready at hand were the means. What
was his object in seeking Mexico and the con
stitutionalist leader she had no means of know
ing. That there was a great object, one which
she must defeat at any and all costs, she knew.
Tt was the eighth day he ran into a foraging
party sent out by Villa in advance of his main
army. Much as she knew of the mysterious spy,
Lucille was still surprised to mark the respect
and deference paid him by the dark-skinned
rebels. Consequently, several days later, days of
tireless travel, she was not surprised, on coming
with the main body of the army, to find herself
being treated with the greatest respect, while
Loubeque was in constant consultation with the
rebel leader.
Day after dayshe felt the growing helpless
ness of her position. Loubeque seemed omnipo
tent in the opinion of these men upon whom he
seemed to hftve stumbled. And yet she knew
there had been nothing accidental about it. It
was only another exhibition of the marvelously
far reaching power of the man against whom she
had arrogantly aligned herself.
Still she would not permit hope to die. The
justice of her cause, the growing humanity of
the international spy, her very youth and the
power of her love forbade this. And Hope is a
mightier telescopic lens than even man-created
science has been able to invent.
Through the very eagerness and desperation
of this feeling she slowly became aware of the
attitude toward his master of Thompson. Per
haps it was a recollection of the way the native
servant had turned against, the spy caused her
to look for some such change in t{ie butler-thief
after the choking he had received. At any rate,
she was aware of the subtle atmosphere of
hatred which the slick scoundrel's mask of servi
tude concealed so well. In lieu of anything to
do on her own account she took to watching the
man, following his every move, his every change
of expression.
Enmity toward the master he had served so
well and who had mistreated him mingled with
hatred for the girl he had so bitterly wronged
and who had brought his punishment about
seemed mingled equally in the butler's mind.
Consequently Lucille was surprised to come
across a briefly scribbled note on a bit of rice
paper such as she had often noticed the butler
using in rolling cigarettes. It was pressed tightly
against one of the partially cut slices of bread
which Thompson served his master and Lucille
with their dinner.
Even as she took up the long, thin loaf she
felt the gimlet of the butler upon her, be
seaching her to be careful, transfixing her with
his telepathic warning. Her fingers trembled as
she held unsteadily to the loaf. She caught Lou
beque's all-seeing eyes fastened curiously upon
her and a nervous little laugh trilled from her
lips. The eyes were averted and in that brief sec
ond she detached the precious fragment of
bread, dropping it to the floor and securing the
fragment of paper as she picked it up, conceal
ing it in the palm of her hand, bravely answer
ing the spy's look of suspicious inquiry with one
of embarrassed laughter at her own awkward
ness.
For what seemed countless hours she bravely
attempted to ent the food before her, tried to
endure the heart-breaking period during which
Lonbeque smoked silently at his cigar. It was
with a sigh of relief so obvious the spy was
obliged to smile that she made half hearted pro
test at his retirement. No sooner had his figure
ceased to darken the doorway than she started
to eagerly examine the message. A little hiss of
warning from Thompson made her conceal it
barely in time to escape observation from the
spy who swiftly flung open the door and
stepped inside, his eyes darting from the butler
to Lucille, eyes full of menace and suspicion.
Not a word of apology did he offer for the
abrupt intrusion as he turned away. Lucille felt
a shudder of terror rim along her spine as she
realized the tremendous sensitiveness to impres
sion of a mind that could conjure up suspicion
so true from the mere letting fall of a bit of
bread. But the terror gave way to hope as she
noticed the utter indifference of expression upon
the face of Thompson, the disregard of the in
trusion, the imperturbability of his servant's
manner as he continued his work of clearing the
table.
Not a glance did either man give her. The
eyes of the spy fastened like points of steely fire
upon the back of his butler. Thompson did not
appear to notice. Within six inches of his master
passed the man with the soiled plates yet not a
quiver of alarm passed through him as he noted
the gripping of those iron hands whose power
he knew so well. With a short grunt, Loubeque
turned and left the room as abruptly as he had
returned. Lucille felt a great wave of hope surir
ing within her.
Enemy though he was. Thompson was a man
of Iron. Since to gain his revenge against the .
greater enemy he was obliged to help her she
cared not what his feeling toward her and her
cause might be. He was to prove an ally and
that was all that counted. She .started to speak
with him but his fishy indifferent eyes forbade.
"Read," he whispered.
She wondered at the clearness of the com
mand, wondered because steadily though her
eyes were fastened upon him his lips had made
no move. Again she felt a glow of confidence.
As the door closed behind his servile back she
eagerly unfolded the crumpled bit of rice paper.
"At the third hoot of the owl, leave."
Merely that—but the delphic words 6eemed
pregnant with wondrous meaningfulness.
CHAPTER XXXXIII.
When the Owl Hooted Twice.
JJOTTRS trod upon one another's heels, so fast
they moved under the tension of her wait
ing. Vague forebodings which she could not ana
lyze oppressed her despite the fires of hope that
had been kindled within her drooping spirit.
Ihare had been something deadly about Thorny-
•on s manner under the scrutiny of the sh<
knew he hated so venomously which made het
shudder and form a half resolution to acquaint
Loubeque with his servant's treachery. She had
half risen to her feet, still fighting against the
ludicrous impulse when the shrill hoot of an ow!
reached from out the mighty distances of tha
far reaching desert waves. She reseated herself,
cold with a feeling of omnipresent evil. It wa»
not alone her impression of the butler-thief but
there was something deadly and surcharged with
violence in the artificial owl's call.
And now the very seconds lagged. Every
nerve, every muscle flexed for she knew not
what, Lucille waited, her ear against the wall,
her eyes pools of mirrored terror.
After what seemed an interminable age, cam*
again the sound. .Unable, this time to endure thi
long intermission she was charged to undergo t
she softly opened the door, peering out over the
sleeping city that the rebel chieftain had flung
up at a mere command. Immediately before her
own abode she made out the less pretentious
shack of the international spy. A dim light from
the partially opened door cut a segment from
the darkness. Far more significant of slumber
than complete darkness was that light.
A tiny droning sound reached her ears. By
main force piercing the thick veil of night,
Lucille made out the shadowy outlines of a lean
motor car, dimly silhouetted against a pile of
lava dust. Something shapeless and dark and
furtive of movement crept across the space that
intervened between it and the light-cleavage of
Loubeque's quarters. Lucille could not resist the
impulse that forced her from the door into the
open.
Times she paused, fearful that her chatter
ing teeth spell out a warning to the marauder
to whom she knew she should feel grateful yet
for whom nothing but hatred and fear would
enter her heart. So silently the man moved it
seemed at tines the earth must have opened and
•wallowed him up.
Something tugged at her feet, fairly draw
ing her away from the scene. Then a strange
wave ef pity for the unsuspecting one against
whom this furtive attack was being made urged
her forward. As the dark figure slipped through
the door, Lucille thrust her head cautiously with
in. Upon the cot lay the long figure of the in
ternational spy, his face turned toward the sil
ent, motionless figure that stood in the center
of the room, staring at him. The eyes were
tightly closed but the girl knew that the man
merely feigned slumber.
_ Thompson turned toward the table upon
■which the lamp dimly burned. Lucille allowed
her eyes to wander for a second in that direc
tion, her heart thudding so violently at sight of
, the diary and papers there that she was fearful
she would be heard. Alongside the papers, its
facets sending out a million flashes of reddest
blood lay the strand of rubies. She marked the
involuntary flexing of the thief's hands as ha
tiptoed toward them.
Not a sound disturbed the silence. But some
thing caused her to dart a swift glance at the
sleeper. His eyes were narrowed but open, lights
of amused malice in them she had never sus
pected could show in mortal eyes, lights so
malignant she shuddered even as she would have
opened her lips to cry a warning. The butler
thief drew closer to the prize he had worked so
hard to gain. His thief's fingers were out
stretched to grasp the necklace, when, with a
crash, the lamp darted toward him, smashing
upon the floor and leaving utter blackness in its
wake.
Upon the h'»fls of his startled alarm came a
chuckling laugh from Loubeque, a laugh that
matched the evil that had glowed from his eyes
so scant before. Came a gurgled oath, the heavy
breathing of strong men in combat.
Lucille turned as though to run. Came a
swift vision before her, one that made her step
swiftly within the wall of mantled darkness. She
could hear the silent struggle of her enemies
mingled with crashes of sound. Some instinct
held her silent, motionless. The papers and the
necklace had been upon the table, directly before
her.
Between her and that table threshed the
two men. She dared not take the chance. Other
chances hJid been as nothing compared to this.
This was so deadly, so full of cool thought. She
could not—could not do it.
Eyes met her own, eyes that seemed to
force their way through the dark interior and
cause her to forget everything that had inter
vened, eyes that mirrored a message of love and
faith and hope to her as she looked down from
the window of the mysterious house in San
Francisco into the eyes of her lover, the man
whose happiness could not be insured without
those papers so short a space before her.
With the thought she sprang into the room.
Her toe met something soft, soft and wriggling
and silent. She bounded high, clearing the bodies
of the two men and landing squarely against
the table. Her hands groped even as she knew
her presence had penetrated the consciousness of
the combatants, lost as they were to outside
things by the fury of their hate. Groping, grop
ing, her hands encountered the cold rubies. She
thrust them swiftly into her bodice, her left hand
continuing the search. Papers rustled under heT
fingers. An iron hand was upon her shoulder but
she wrenched herself loose and leaped back.
Heavy breathing sounded, heavy breathing
and the catlike tread of the one who groped for
her elusive figure. Along the wall she moved un
til her body encountered the swaying door. A
faint light trickled through at her and in that
flash she made out the tall figure of Loubeque.
Even as he sprang at her she slapped the
door shut. Came a cry of pain and rage, the
stumble of feet backwards.
Lucille fled through the night, fled towards
where she had seen the motor car from which
Thompson had come to this place. It was a
chance, no odds what orders the man had been
given.
What commands he had been given? She
stopped a second. She had been warned to wait
for three hoots of the owl and but two had been
given. Impulse directing her, she lifted her hands
to her mouth. First no sound came. A second
time she made the attempt. Feeble it was at
( best, but the startled silence took it up and
hurled back this offender against restfulness.
To her right came the purr of the motor.
From behind sounded a shot. She lunged toward
the first sound. A dark figure leaned from the
seat and drew her beside him. Lucille clung to
the man, sobbing from nervous reaction even as
the car shot through the night.
The whine of a bullet sounded overhead—an
other and yet again another. She dared not
look back. The white road stretched like a
glistening, gorged serpent before them. Silence
save for the music of the engine. The wind
slapped her cheeks but she. did not heed. She did
not even notice the dark, heavy figure beside her,
The papers warmed through the flesh against
which they pressed, warmed through her body
and to her very heart itself, Betting her pulses
throbbing a -hallelula more glorious than the
humming motor that had helped so greatly.
And still 6be pressed her clenched fists
against the precious packet. For Hugo Loubeque
knew the method of her departure, knew what
she carried with her. And already she knew
Hugo Loubeque was working to overtake her.
ICoaiiaued Next Weelc.l