LUCILLE LOVE. The Girl of MysW a
SkSoulJhrillinqStorif ofJCove. dganger and Jnfrigue
-By the "MASTERTEJS"
Copyright, 1914. All moving picture rights reserved by the Universal Film Manufacturing Company, who
mrm now exhibiting this production in leading theaters. Infringements will be vigorously prosecuted.
CHAPTER XXXXXIII.
Defeat in the Hour of Victory.
fNCE in the cutter, Lucille for the
first time heaved a huge sigh of
relief as she glanced back toward
the shore, and saw Hugo Loubeque
jump from the car in which he had
been pursuing her and glance hur
riedly up and down the * harbor
She glanced approvingly now at
the broad shoulders of the sailors,
revelled in the long swing of the
oars that took her out. of the spy's reach. Al
ways her hands pressed against, the papers at
her heart. They were in her possession now,
they were hers, and the honor of the ones she
held most dear was in her keeping, neTer to be
lost again.
She clambered over the sides of the waiting
government vessel, being met at the deck by tfhe
Captain himself. His eye-brows rose in surprise
as he regarded the slender slip of a girl facing
him, her eyes wet with tears.
"Ensign Howell informed me that Mr. Lou
beque—" he began when she interrupted.
"The papers are here, Captain. I have them.
They are safe now."
For a moment he studied her meditatively.
She felt an icy chill running up and down her
spine. Would he see the frantic man upon the
phore? Would he hesitate? Would he not be
lieve her when she told him the truth regarding
the documents? Would he turn back and force
her to return the papers? At the very sugges
tion her face flexed in every muscle while her
eyes met his coldly and steadily, a purpose in
their depths which even the officer turned away
from, convinced that all was well.
And now that she was safe, the nervous reac
tion came upon her. In her own tiny cabin, safe
finally from the man she had last seen upon the
shore, it seemed the very air was fraught with
terrors, horrible fears reaching toward her, gib
bering at her with threats of perils greater even
than those she had come through already. A
light tapping on the door brought her to her
feet, heartily ashamed of the false terrors she
tad allowed to unnerve her. She opened the door
and Ensign Howell entered.
Lucille regarded him coldly, in far different
manner from the coquettish young woman who
had put him off at the house of Loubeque. His
eyes were frbwning, at first, then under the ex
quisite beauty of her, they melted and he took
an involuntary step forward.
"Miss —Miss—" he stammered, "why did you
send me away from the appointment? The Cap
tain wishes to speak with you and when you tell
him the truth, it will appear as though I—"
"You need have no fear," she t answered quiet
ly, ignoring the expression of the man which
told her that even his dread of a reprimand
from his superior was of far less consequence
than her opinion of him. "Will you kindly con
duct me to the Captain. I will explain every
thing."
The Captain of the Terror regarded her"
steadily as she was brought before him. Seated
at his desk, in the very throne of his authority,
a power that ruled the depths of the ocean, with
the young Ensign at his side, heels together, toes
and chest out in rigid, stern attention, Lucille
felt him a very much more formidable being
than when she met him on the deck. This man
was her enemy, would be her enemy until the
question of possession of the papers had been
thoroughly threshed out.
"Your name, please?" queried the commander
shortly.
Lucille felt a thrill of pride running through
her, taking possession of every particle of space
within her slender body. Her name —that was
the beginning and end of it all, the weeks of
peril, privation, hardship, danger. Her name—
xhe name of Love, the name that this man and
the great, government, which ruled the flag under
which this boat of the seas sailed, had and was
endeavoring to traduce.
"My name, sir," she said quite simply,' yet
with a tremolo of pride unmistakable, "is Lucille
Love—daughter of General Sumpter Love, United
States Army."
"Impossible!"
As though the two voices had been one, the
Captain and his junior burst forth in the ex
clamation. Lucille merely smiled as she saw the
wondering incredulity upon their faces change
to one of understanding then of resolve for war
fare.
The commander held out his hand.
"I am in receipt of orders from Washing
ton," he said quietly, "to meet Hugo Loubeque,
who would turn over to me certain papers and
orders which he received from Washington while
in command at Manila, and which he sold—"
"It's a lie!" Lucille's voice had no tremolo
now. Instead it rang against the sides of the
cabin with a vibrant force that made the two
men start violently.
"Yes, a lie," she repeated, quieting the fury
which was racking her. "My father did receive
the papers. There was a military ball in progress
at the time. He gave them to his aide, Lieuten
ant Gibson, my fiancee, to put in the safe. That
night they were stolen by a servant in the em
ploy of Hugo Loubequestolen, I tell you, not
sold."
The Commander nodded coldly.
"Your contention is a matter for the Court,
of Inquiry to thresh out. I am under orders to
receive the packet of papers and take them to
that court, together with the affidavit of Hugo
Loubeque that they were sold to him. If they
are in your possession, I will take them; if not,
I shall bo forced to turn back and find Mr. Lou
beque."
"The papers are in my possession, sir. They
belong to me until I can turn them over to my
father, to whom they were sent. What he wiil
do with them is a matter for the Court of In
quiry to decide."
"That, is quite impossible," the man snapped
sharply. "In the first place, your story is quite
incredible—Lucille Love was drowned when the
impress took fire." )
"Lucille Love is here, sir. Lucille Love was /
aboard the Empress, flew there with Mr. Harley,
the government aviator, because she knew from
a message she cut in on upon the telephone that
Hugo Loubeque was aboard the Empress and
that he had the papers. Ever since, through
jungle, desert, land and water, I have followed
nim. I have seen the spy's diary. It is here with
/the papers—always. That will show his hatred
for my father. That will explain. That will
prove my story."
Even as the Captain nodded, rising to his
feet to eagerly watch the girl's frantic search
through the packet, all a-quiver himself to have
her prove her case, so unmistakably, a little, dry
sob broke from her lips. As the lily droops upon
its stem, BO did the slender figure of the cirl
■lowly sink—sink-r-sink
She recovered herself with an effort, shaking
her head as though to drive away the mists of
faintness which this, the crowning misfortune,
had delivered her. The diary of Hugo Loubeque
was not among the papers she had recovered.
The Captain nodded toward his Ensign, who,
with a glance of sympathy toward the stricken
girl, scooped up the papers and laid them before
his commanding officer.
Lucille turned and slowly left the room. Her
eyes were fastened directly ahead but she walked
as one who journeys in slumber, unseeing, be
numbed. And her lips repeated over and over
again:
"Too cruel! Cruel! Cruel!"
CHAPTER XXXXXIV.
Exit Hugo Loubeque.
OERGEANT DALY, plain clothes man of the San
Francisco police department, showed scarcely
a sign of interest as he was assigned to the mys
terious case at the St. Francis. The meagre de
tails trickled through his ears and were lost
forever. That was a part of the method which
had made him the greatest sleuth of the depart
ment—he always found out for himself and never
trusted to advance information.
Swiftly he took in the salient details of the
house detective, the discovery of a man's dead
body i" the suite of a young woman who had
registered there under the name of Lucille Love.
Then he went immediately to the room and ex
amined the corpse.
Thompson had not been touched. He lay as
he had been when Hugo Loubeque looked back
at him, from the doorway, his body twisted a bit
from the struggle with the spy, his right hand
tightly clenching the revolver in his mouth. Daly
bent over him, uttering a little ejaculation of
surprise which whetted the curiosity of the man
ager instantly. After a long interval he rose to
his feet, holding a soiled linen label in his hand.
"Frank Thompson," he smiled quietly. "Here
is the name of the tailor who made the sviit ho
wears. I wonder ho\y he ever came to go to
Manila."
"Manila?" Frankly curious was the manager.
"Yes—Manila. No wonder that crook hasn't
been active in the States for the last couple of
years. Wonder whatever pulled Chicago Tom
that far away from State Street."
"Then he was a crook?"
"It's my turn to ask questions," the Sergeant
interrupted sharply. "You say this suite was
assigned to Lucille Love—"
"A young woman who was arrested yester
day, Sergeant, when she was caught on the fire
escape outside Mr. Loubeque's suite. She came
here with Mr. Loubeque and he registered her.
Her first night here she created a sensation by
paying one of the cabaret to allow her to dance
in her place. Yesterday a call came to the of
fice from Loubeque's suite that a hotel sneak
thief was in his apartment. When the detectives
arrived the place was vacant but the young
woman was ca'ught on the flre escape and ar
rested, paroled in the custody of Mr. Roller, the
big jeweler. It is a case of suicide, Sergeant?"
Daly shook his head.
"Suicide! I should rather guess not. Look
at the man's gums. The. gun was forced into his
mouth and the gums badly bruised in the doing
of it. Where can I find this Lucille Love or Lou
beque?"
Before the manager could answer the tele
phone bell tinkled. He turned to the detective
excitedly, his hand pressed over the 'phone
mouthpiece.
"A Lieutenant Gibson calling on Miss Love,"
he explained.
"Tell him to wait."
Richard Gibson was little inclined for cross
examination when first the. two men approached
him. Shamed of his unreasoning jealousy of the
girl he loved, aghast at his conduct in turning
away from the woman who had left him so un
ceremoniously in order to prove his innocence
of stealing the papers from General Love's safe,
he had fought the battle out with himself, com
ing to the conclusion that there must be a rea
sonable explanation for her conduct. Sergeant
Daly regarded him steadily a moment, then told
him the reason for his wishing to know every--
thing. Gibson whirled upon the manager, his
face livid with rage, fists clenched.
"And you had her arrested —you had her—"
Daly held the arm that was about to strike,
soothing him with quieting words.
"Evidently he can tell us nothing," Daly mut
tered to the manager. "He didn't even know
about the arrest and bailment until I told him."
Gibson flung upon his heel and left the ho
tel, black hatred, suspicion, fear, a thousand and
one emotions in his heart. At the jeweler's his
tale caused the proprietor to almost have a
stroke of apoplexy.
"A murdered man in her suite while she was
in the station house," he gasped. "Then she
won't—" He fairly wept in the depths of his
emotions. "Then the necklace must have been
stolen," he finally cried, his eyes flashing vindic
tively. "But she shan't have the money for it.
I'il keep that until the rightful owner comes
along. Perhaps I may get back the ten thousand
dollars T paid her for an option on it."
"Sold—this necklace sold—who bought it?"
The jeweler agitatedly sought the memoran
dum of the purchase.
"A Mister Hugo Loubeque—never heard of a
millionaire by such a name but he had the two
hundred thousand to buy it and I let it go."
"Hugo Loubeque!" Gibson grasped the
amazed man by the shoulders and fairly shook
answers from him. at the re-mention of this
name that kept continually cropping up before
him.
Dick Gibson rushed from the establishment
finally, an idea in his head which he cursed him
self for not having thought, of before. The house
where he had last seen Lucille! The house from
the second story window of which she had
looked down at him with the light of a great
fear and love and pleading and a call for assist
ance in her eyes! The house he had caused to
be raided and in which there was nothing to be
found, not even a sign of life! Might not, was
not this mysterious Loubeque the one whose hand
he had seen dragging her from the window?
Breathlessly he darted up to the door and,
finding the lock still unrepaired, dashed inside
and up the stairs. He did not expect to find
Lucille there, did not know exactly what he
would find, but there was surcease from torture
in action, and his brain had been fanned into
flame by the mysterious tales he had heard re
garding his sweetheart and the strange crimes
which seemed to link her name so inextricably
with them. 4
Suddenly he stopped, halted abruptly. He
could hear no sound yet was positive someone,
was close to him, that he was being watched.
For a full five minutes he waited, there upon the
stairs. The silence of the place was oppressive,
deadly.
"You wished to see me, sir?"
Smiling and suave, his great, brooding eyes
holding a light of melancholy and sorrow such
as the young officer had never witnessed before,
appearing as if by magic, and now facing him
was Hugo Loubeque. He knew it was the man he
sought yet the compelling personality of the spy
abashed him, drove the blind rage from his heart
almcMt instantly and made him feel like a fool-
HARRISBURG TELEGRAPH
ish child who has asked a primer question of a
very wise man.
"Loubeque—" he stammered.
The international spy bowed gravely, his
eyes still fastened upon the young man before
him, inscrutable eyes that seematl to search to
the very depths of the soul.
And, as his eyes sought the carpet, away
from the magnetic power of the man, all the
rage returned to the young officer. This man was
the one who had taken his sweetheart from him,
who had tangled her up in such base affairs as
those he had just heard of. His eyes roved the
room, lighting upon a pair of broadswords,
crossed upon the wall. He caught the smile on
The Three Were Silent. There Was No Room for Words in This Great Happiness.
the spy's face when he looked again at him and
knew hie thoughts had been read.
"What have you done with Lucille Love?" he
cried.
"Miss Love," murmured Loubeque, his voice
taking on a sighing note that fairly tortured the
listener's ears. "Miss Love is on a war ship
bound for Washington, I believe."
"You know a man was murdered in her
suite—that she was arrested as a hotel sneak
theif?" Not so much a question as an accusation
was it.
"Miss Love has been through many more
trying situations than that," answered Loubeque
slowly, "since she pitted herself against me."
"Pitted herself against you!" The light of a
great understanding gleamed in Gibson's eyes,
mingled with the murderous hatred there. "Then
it was you who stole the papers "
"Quite so." Hugo Loubeque turned upon his
heel, but the iron grip of (he officer was upon his
whirling him about so that their faces
met. Gibson's words came in a sibilant hiss.
"You—you coward! So T owe you my dis
grace—my enforced resignation from the army.
So General Love owes his trial and disgrace to
you. So you have kept. Lucille from us, knowing
.nothing of her, thinking her dead " Words
came so fast they choked him. Only his rolling
eyes testified to the full extent of his' fury. Again
they lighted upon the broad swords. Like a
panther he leaped across the floo'r. seizing them
and slapping them away from the fastening.
Loubeque gravely, quietly, without change of ex
pression accepted the one that was hurled at his
feet, placing himself on guard, easily turning the
insane slashes of the officer, who hurled hiins'elf
upon him.
Easily, by wrist alone, Loubeque played with
the man. His eye held no expression save that
of one looking very far away. sad. mournful,
distant. That look of indifference only served to
madden Gibson doubly. He pressed the attack
but could force no recognition from his adver
sary. He was panting, breathing, and the spy, de
spite his years, showed never a sign of fatigue.
Furiously he lunged when suddenly, the blade of
his adversary whirled, sending o'ut scores of
scintillating lights as it danced in the air above
his head. He could hear it whistling aliout his
ears', singing sinister songs of Death. Yet he was
unable to pierce that guard and make an im
pression. Summoning every last ounce of
strength against his tormentor, he swept the.
great blade high behind his back. Then ho
brought it forward in one swoop that wo'uld have
severed the spy.
He fell back as from a blow, his wrist
mimbed and deadened by the wrench that had
carried the handle of the heavy sword from his
grasp. Hugo Loubeque had dropped his own hlade
to the floor and was studying him quietly, no'
glimmer in his eyes. Gibson glared over his head.
The sword was still swaying from side to side
from the fury with which it had been driven into
the low hanging wooden beam overhead. Instinc'
tively his hand reached to recover his weapon
when Loubeque laid a hand of iron upon his
shoulder.
"That will do," he cried sternly. "Be a man,
sir." Again that mellowed light drove the light
of anger from his eyes'. His lips opened and the
voice of him was little more than a sigh; "such
a man as Miss Lucille Love deserves."
Gibson looked at him. startled, aghast. Once
more Loubeque would have spoken when, from
below stairs, came the shrill screech of a po
liceman's whistle, followed almost instantly by
a rush of feet upon the stairs.
The spy seemed in no wise perturbed, eren
though the sounds were growing louder and
louder each fraction of a second. His right hand
moved along the desk, picking up a small ivory
box, exquisitely carved, which he handed to the
man who had so lately lusted for his blood.
"You will kindly give this to—Lucille—with
my compliments and felicitations," he murmured,
bowing again in the grave, Continental fashion
which had so impressed the other.
Gibson stared at him, wondering at the lack
of emotion on I face in this moment of peril.
Slowly, steadily Loubeque stepped backward. Then
suddenly a yawning panel stood beside him. He
stood in the cavity a second, smiling as the door
burst open and Sergeant Daly, followed by a
squad of uniformed officers lurched into the
room.
"That's him!" Daly's shout turned into a wild
yelp of terror, as the room shot from under the
feet of the occupants and they found themselves
precipitated into the very bowels of the house.
It was half an hour before they managed to
find their way out; half an hour which swallowed
up the international spy completely as though it
had been the grave.
CHAPTER XXXXXV.
An Appeal and an Interruption.
Lucille finished her dressing
and turned to look out the hotel window
over Pennsylvania Avenue. Far in the distance
she could see the stately head of the Capitol
building. L'pon the street she could make out
from the very manner of the pedestrians just
who was of importance in managing the ma
chinery of the great nation, citizenship in which
had always been her proudest boast. She re
called the short year that had elapsed since last
she was in Washington, just before sailing for
Manila to join her father, happy and care-freg
and ignorant of life's struggle as ever a girl could
be. But now she was alone in this magnificent
city of distances', a girl seeking to save the
father to whom all men had done deference on
that former visit from disgrace at the hands of
the country he had been so proud to serve.
When the Captain of the Terror had spoken
of the Court of Inquiry before which Gen
eral Sumpter Love was being tried for selling
the papers he had received from Washington,
she had conjured up visions of him behind bars,
dreamed horrible dreams of a disgrace that was
being heaped upon him physically as well as men
tally. Rut when she realized 011 reaching the city
that he was at a hotel, living quite the same as
she herself was allowed to live; her joy bad sub
merged almost every other feeling. It had been
four days now, however, and still she had not
called up sufficient courage to see him.
All night she had been awake trying to
scheme up some method of aiding him. The papers
she had recovered and it seemed that instead of
helping she had. placed in the hands of the gov
ernment pxaetly what they wanted to convict.
She dared not nieet the old rfian and tell him that
she had done this thing. And now, it, seemed to
her she could stand the strain no longer. Surely,
there must be a justice in Washington, a some
body big enough to help her father.
All the day before she had sat in Lafayette
Park before the White House, seeing the Presi
/ dent of the United States come out for his walk,
return and leave once more. She had thought
his- face kindly, had even started impulsively to
ward him to make a plea for just a few moments
of his time to tell him why she was there. And
then—just at the supreme moment her courage
had failed. Kindly, his face was but, she saw also
eolld reason there and knew that everything
looked to be against General Sumpter Love. Then,
too, she realized that clemency would scarcely
be forthcoming in the era of war which was
upon the nation, with this patient, calm Presi
dent fighting against the inevitable from his
country's Southern neighbor.
But there was the Secretary of War! Surely,
there might be some chance in an appeal to him.
She had managed to gain her way with other
men when sorely pressed. Why was it not worth
the trial. And so, this morning, after a long
timorous glance up and down the long avenue,
■he had started for the Army and Navy Building
with steps that were fighting against her own
will all the way.
"Miss Lueilie Love—Lucille Love " The
Secretary turned the card over and over in his
hands while regarding her narrowly the while.
"I have heard of you. Miss Love, and of the
papers. You may reßt assured your story will re
ceive every attention in the conduct of the trial
of your father. Certainly, you know the nation
can ill afford to lose such a man just at this
time." He sighed heavily, foT the trial wm a
weight upon his own shoulders even aa It waa
upon the shoulders of the entire army.
"But you can investigate — my story la
Btrange, unbelievable," she pled impulsively
reaching out her hands in a wide gesture of ap>
peal toward him. "I know that. But if yog
would only investigate. You would find that I
told the truth when I said I caught the Princesa
on an aeroplane. I left word that I had received
information that led me to believe the papers wera
in the possession of someone aboard that boat.
You know I did that. I found the papers and re
covered thein. I was shipwrecked with them upon
a savage island. Hugo Loubeque was also saved
and got the papers away once more. And then
he got them again in China —look into the record*.
Ask the Chinese Ambassador to investigate a
death "
"All details of yotir story have been proven,
Miss Love," gravely, sadly answered the cabinet
minister, "but there is no evidence in your- fath
er's favor. What would be the motive for Hugo
Loubeque "
"Revenge," she answered quickly. "Cant you
see—"
"If it co'uld be proven "
He was interrupted by the entrance of a clerk
with a card. The Secretary frowned, then list
ened to the whispered explanation of the man, a
slight smile upon his face. He nodded that admit
tance was' to be granted, then turned again to
Lucille.
"Mr. Gibson—formerly Lieutenant Gibson—"
Lucille sprang to her feet, all confusion. She
strained toward the door but a great fear was
holding her back. The last time she had seen her
sweetheart he had repulsed her, had turned away
from her, end now
Gibson entered quickly, halted abruptly at
sight of the woman he loved standing there, with
the gentle love light in her eyes and the reproach
of a maid offended in her form. Slowly, very
6lowly, as one who would be forgiven yet cannot
hope for that forgiveness, he placed the little,
ivory box in her hands, the box which Hugo Lou
beque had given to him. She looked at him in
quiringly and his lips parted:
"From Hugo Loubeque with hopes for for
giveness and felicitation."
Hugo Loubeque!
With trembling fingers she pried open the
delicate lid, then gave a sharp cry of disappoints
ment that was echoed by one of«mute admiration
and amaze from the others as, turning the box up
side down, the wonderful ruby necklace fell upon
the floor, every blood red facet darting a thou
sand threats at them. But Lucille's eyes paid the
necklace no heed. Instead they fastened upon a
little slip of paper in the bottom of the box, dirty
and torn, but which she dragged forth with a cry
of unutterable joy, pressing it to her heart in an
ecstasy of delight, fairly babbling over it:
Page from Diary of Hugo Loubeque.
In account with General Sumpter Love for .
dismissal from West Point and robbing ma of *
Lucille— —
Theft committed
She read no farther but, sobbing l with the
abandonment of a child, placed the page from the
diary in the hands of the Secretary of War. He
turned it over and over in his hands, a light of
understanding growing in his eyes, a light which
softened as he looked upon the girl who watched
him.
"I see," he murmured quietly. "You say, Mr.
Gibson, Hugo Loubeque gave this to you to hand
to Miss Love?"
"Yes sir."
"Tf you do not object, Miss Love," he said to
the girl, with a little knowing smile in the direc
tion of her sweetheart, "I shall take this immedi
ately before the Board of Inquiry. I think, with
your story and the verifications I have gathered
of its details it will not only clear your father
but also return to the Army a young Lieutenant
who had been named Captain at the time this* un
fortunate incident occurred."
"Mr. Secretary "
He still smiled, as, embarrassed, she halted
midway toward him, her arms outstretched a«
though to throw them about his neck.
"Then I shall return it to you," he said
quietly. "It reads: 'Account finally cancelled by
Loubeque because no hate is' strong enough but
would wither and die in him who knows Lu
cille?' "
"You will excuse me," he added, after a long
pause.
Evidently, important cabinet officer though
he was, the Secretary expected no answer for
he did not even glance back at the couple, who
were so forgetful of eitquette as to ignore his
question. But Lucille had her arms close, close
about the neck of Richard Gibson, and that young
man was only mindful of his burden at the mo
ment.
CHAPTER XXXXXVI.
Concerning Ghosts.
At his desk, General Sumpter Love smiled as
the murmur of two voices came to him. His eyes
closed wearily and his head sank forward upon
his chest, a victim of dreams —dreams of the
long ago. It had been hard, giving up to an
other this daughter whom he had only just re
gained. And yet—and yet—there was another Lu
cille- r
"Lucille!"
His arms were outstretched toward the vision
of his dead wife and the cry of her name from
his lips, from his overburdened heart, wakened
him with a start. .
"You called. Father?" ,
Lucille's arms were about his neck, just as they
had been about his neck that other time in Ma
nila when she coaxed his consent to her marriage
to Gibson. And (Jibson, with the straps of a
Captain, was standing once more in the doorway.
His' hand rose to pat the rase petal cheek of
her. Then his fingers encountered the necklace
about her throat, the necklace of rubies' which
the Washington papers had decanted upon so
voluminously in their accounts of the romantio
postponed wedding. As though he had Btruck a
snake, his hand recoiled.
"Loubeque's necklace!" he muttered.
The arms about his neck tightened. The
cheek was pressed against his own.
"Poor, poor Hugo," she murmured. "Poor,
poor man who did not know there was no room
for hate in a world that might be filled with
love. Poor, poor man."
"I think, sometimes," she murmured dream
ily, "I hear his voice as I heard it when he suf
fered gladly for me —when he nursed me—out
there in the open boat —without water —food—
anything—and always is it kind and gentle —"
General Sumpter Love turned away. His eyes
had suddenly become moist. Captain Gibson put
his hand gently upon the shaking shoulder of his
wife.
The three were silent. There was no room
for words. Ghosts were all about—whispering,
soothing ghosts that would not be allayed—
ghosth that danced merrily through the leaping
flames of the grate fire, that winked from the
ashes on the hearth, ghosts that murmured over
and over again—
"Lucille —Lucille "
Ghosts that had an echo from the lips of a
world-weary man directly under the earth from
them —Hugo Loubeque, alone with his ghosta that
murmured always v.
"Lucille—Lucille n