REPUBLICAN NEWS-ITEM
Published by C. S. DAUBERMAN, Lessee
LAPORTE PA.
UTILITY OF EXPERIENCE.
Because a man disapproves of new
*ays of doing thlngß, Is no reason
why he should be accounted a "back
number." In many ways the methods
to which he has been accustomed all
his life, and which were Instilled Into
him from boyhood, are the foundation
stones upon which the newer methods
are built. Their basic principle Is the
same, but whereas in former days they
were intended to meet only specific
conditions, in these later days It Is
found necessary to develop them suf
ficiently to cover possibilities which
were undreamed of a generation or so
ago. Experience undoubtedly Is the
best teacher, and fortunate Indeed is
he who can turn the lessons of the
past to good account In the solution
of present-day problems. To do this,
however, he must possess, besides the
advantage his experience brings, suffi
cient Insight and sufficient foresight
to absorb something of the newer and
more "up-to-date" ideas. Otherwise
he will find himself crowded out and
denounced as a "back number." Com
mon sense should teach him that con
ditions are constantly arising which
were never taken Into consideration
before, for the reason that they never
existed, and common sense should
also teach him that the methods for
merly In use cannot always be de
pended upon to reach these conditions.
It is absolutely necessary for a man
to keep up his interest in the world of
affairs and to take part in the activi
ties of life if he wishes to continue to
be a factor in their development.
It isn't a very nice task to punish
pussy if you're fond of her, but. there
aro times when she must be chas
tised. This is how to do It, according
to Louis Wain, the great authority on
the fascinating feline. In the first
place, don't actually strike the cat,
says the London Answers. A blow
merely numbs it. And when the spine,
which is the most sensitive part, is
si ruck—particularly if the cat Is old —
it is likely to spring at the striker.
When pussy does anything wrong,
frighten the wrongdoer by striking a
stick on the ground. A cat is most
sensitive to sounds, and will connect
this new noise with what it has done.
It feels more intensely than most ani
mals; hence its supposed savagery in
cases. Cats are highly electrical, and
it is very good to have one perch on
one's shoulder or knees.
According to the slang published as
used in a noted woman's college, it is
not strange that Its further use has
been prohibited by the college author
ities. Some of the ordinary slang of
the day is picturesque and probably
would be missed, but the habit of
writing and speaking accurate Eng
lish. supposed to be one encouraged in
college training, is not helped by the
silly jargon which is held by silly col
lege boys and girls to be characteris
tic and distinctive. For the good of
the language, it Is to be hoped the
authorities will be successful in their
stand.
With regard to those widely adver
tised rats, of which the meat-eating
one traveled 5,000 miles further than
the vegetarian one, it may cause a re
action toward vegetarianism. For the
bipeds may recall the traditional wis
dom of the South American monkeys
•who can talk but are too wise to do
It lest the white men set them at
"work.
Somebody has found that 25,344,000
bubbles can be produced from one
pound of soap. This fact having been
established, Niagara rapids having
been navigated in a barrel, the Eng
lish channel having been crossed by
a swimmer and both the poles having
been reached, nothing of Importance
seems to be left to be done.
The average man can run a ship
better than any navigator that sails
the seas and can manage a ball team
better than the best in the business.
Criticism is the lot of those In author
ity and generally it is as unwarranted
as it is illogical and absurd.
Astronomers tell us that the Mar
tian year lasts 730 days. When we
reflect on the size of the average
Martian coal bill we are thankful to
be living on this little old earth.
A postman walks about fourteen
miles a day.and then lots of people
who were expecting letters do not get
any.
It is said that women are to sup
plant men as wireless telegraph oper
ators on the north Pacific steamers.
That ought to be more interesting to
them than even a party telephone
line.
The New York police have arrested
Themistocles Pheodosuplialoph for
loitering. They ought to let him go.
Any man who can carry around a
name like that can not be blamed for
being weary.
SYNOPSIS!
The story opens at Monto Carlo with
Col. Terence O'Rourke, a military free
lanoe and something of a gambler. In his
hotel. leaning on the balcony he sees a
beautiful girl who suddenly enters the
elevator and passes from sight. At the
gaming table O'Rourke notices two men
watching him. One Is the Hon. Bertie
Glynn, while his companion Is Viscount
Des Trebes. a duelist. The viscount tells
him the French government has directed
him to O'Rourke as a man who would
undertake a secret mission. At his apart
ment O'Rourke. who had agreed to un
dertake the mission, finds a mysterious
letter. The viscount arrives, hands a
sealed package to O'Rourke, who Is not
to open It until on the ocean. A pair of
dainty slippers are seen protruding from
under a doorway curtain. The Irishman
finds the owner of the mysterious feet to
be his wife, Beatrix, from whom he had
run away a year previous.
CHAPTER IV.—(Continued.)
She shook her head sadly, wistful
ly. "How do I know? How can 1 tell?
Surely, dear, no two people were ever
happier than we —yet within a year
from our wedding you . . . you left
me, ran away from me. . . . Why?"
"Well ye know why, dearest, and
well ye know 'twas love of ye alone
that drove me from ye. Could I let
it be said ye had a husband who was
incapable of supporting ye? Could I
let it be said that your husband lived
like a leech upon your fortunes?
Faith, didn't I have togo for your
sake?"
"No," she dissented with a second
weary shake of her pretty head; "I
think it was love of yourself, a little,
Terence —that and your pride.
. . . Why should any of our world
have guessed you were not the rich
man you fancied yourself when we
were married? Who would have told
them that your landed heritage in
Ireland had turned out profitless? Not
I, my dear."
"I know that," he contended stub
bornly. "but I know, too, sooner or
later it would have come out, and
they would have said: 'There she
goes with her fortune-hunter, the ad
venturer who married her for her
money—'"
"And if so? What earthly differ
ence could it make to us, sweetheart?
What can gossip matter to us —if you
love me?"
"If" he cried, almost angrily. "If!
. . . Ah, but no, darling! 'tis your
self knows there is no 'if' about it, that
I'm sick with love of ye this very
minute —sick and mad for ye . .
"Then," she pleaded, with a desper
ate little break in her incomparable
voice; and again held out her arms
to him —"then have pity on me, oh, my
dearest one—have pity on me if only
for a little while."
And suddenly he had caught her to
him, and she lay In his arms, her
young strong body molded to his, her
lips to his, her eyes half-veiled, the
sweet fragrance of her —too well re
membered —intoxicating him; lay su
pine in his embrace, yet held him
strongly to her, and trembled in sym
pathy with the deep, hurried pounding
of his heart. . . .
In the south the horizon flamed
livid to the zenith, revealing a great,
black wall of cloud that had stolen
up out of Africa; beneath it the sea
shone momentarily with a sickly silk
en luster. Then the dense blackness
of the night reigned again, as pro
found as though impenetrable, eternal.
Later a dull growl of thunder rolled
in across the waste. With it came the
first fitful warnings of the impending
wind storm.
" 'Twas ye who sang to me, dear
est?"
"Who else, you great Billy boy?
. . . And when you followed me to
the door, making as much noise as a
young elephant, Terence—l was mind
ed to punish you a little, a very little,
my dear. So I merely opened mine
and closed it sharply."
"There was a woman in the hall—"
"I saw her, dear, and laughed, think
ing how puzzled you would be. . . .
Was I cruel, my heart? Itut I did not
mean to be. I'd planned this surprise,
you know, from the minute 1 found
our rooms adjoined."
"And this letter" —O'Rourke fumbled
In his pocket and got It out—"ye
brought it to me?"
"It came to me in London, dear, two
weeks ago; we were together—Clara
Plinllmmon and I —at the Carlton,
waiting for her yacht to be put Into
commission. Meanwhile she was mak
ing up the party for this Mediter
ranean trip. ... I had no idea
where to send you the letter. Have
you read It?"
"Have I had time, sweetheart of
mine?"
There was an Interlude.
In the distance the thunder rolled
and rumbled.
liesolutely the young woman dis
engaged herself and withdrew u> m lit-
U9 diauwc*
FLAME^mKI
ran
"Head, monsieur," she insisted, per
emptorily.
"I've better things to do. me dear,"
he retorted with composure.
"You'll find It Interesting."
"I find me wife more Interesting
than — How d'ye know I will?"
"Perhaps I have read it."
O'Rourke turned the letter over In
his hand and noted what had thereto
fore escaped his attention —the fact
that the envelope, badly frayed on the
edges through much handling, was
open at the top.
"So ye may," he admitted.
"It was that way when I received It.
And I have read It How could I help
It?"
"Then ye've saved me the bother."
He prepared to rise and capture her.
She retreated briskly. "Read!"
she commanded. "Read about the
Pool of Flame!"
He stopped short, thunderstruck.
"The Pool of Flame?" he reiterated
slowly. "What d'ye know about that?"
"What the letter tells me —no more.
What has become of it?"
But he had already withdrawn the
enclosure and tossed the envelope
aside, and was reading—absorbed, ex
cited, oblivious to all save that con
veyed to his Intelligence by the writ
ing beneath his eyes.
It was a singularly curt, dry and
business-like document for one that
was destined to mold the romance of
his life —strangely terse and tritely
phrased for one that was to exert so
far-reaching an Influence over the lives
of so many men and women. Upon a
single sheet of paper bearing their let
terhead, Messrs. Secretan and Svpher,
solicitors, of Rangoon, Burmah, hnd
caused to be typed a communication
to Colonel Terence O'Rourke, lnform
lnp: him that on behalf of a client who
preferred to preserve his incognito
they were prepared to offer a reward
of one hundred thousand pounds ster
ling for the return. Intact and un
marred, of the ruby known as the
Pool of Flame. The said ruby was,
when last heard of, in the possession
of the said Colonel O'Rourke. who
would receive the reward upon the
delivery of the said stone to the un
dersigned at their offices In Rangoon
She Flung Herself Upon Him, Sobbing.
within six months from date. Said
delivery might be made either In per
son or by proxy. With which Messrs.
Secretan and Sypher begged to re
main respectfully his.
The Irishman read it once and again,
memorizing Its Import; then deliber
ately shredded It Into minute parti
cles.
"So It's come," he said heavily, "just
as the O'Mahoney foretold it would!"
He sank back in his chair, and his
wife went to him and perched herself
upon the arm of it, imprisoning his
head with her arms and laying her
cheek against his.
"What ha* come, my heart T"
"One hundred thousand pounds,"
he said. . . . "Treble Its worth.
double what the O'Mahoney expect
ed. . .
"Who Is the O'Mahoney, dear?"
He roused. "An old friend, Beatrix
—an old comrade. He died some years
back, on the banks of the Tugela,
fighting with a Boer commando. He
was a lonely man, without kith or kin
or many friends beside meself. That,
I presume, is how he came to leave
the Pool of Flame with me." He
wound an arm round her and held her
close. "Hearken, dear, and I'll be
telling ye the story of It."
Behind them the infernal glare lit
up the portentous skies. Thunder
echoed between clouds and sea like
heavy cannoning. The wife shrank
close to her beloved. "I am not at all
afraid," she declared, when her voice
could bo heard —"with you. . . .
Tell me about the Pool of Flame."
"The O'Mahoney left it with me
when he went to South Africa," ex
plained O'Rourke. " 'Twas a paste
board box the. size of me fist, wrapped
in brown paper and tied with a bit of
string, that he brought me one even
ing, saying he was about to leave, and
would I care for It In his absence. 1
knew no more of it than that 'twas
something he valued highly, but I put
it away In a safe-deposit vault —which
he mlght've done if he hadn't been a
scatterbrain—an Irishman. . . .
"Then he wrote me a letter—l got
It weeks after his death —saying he
felt he was about togo out. and that
the Pool of Flame was mine. He
went onto explain that the box con
tained a monstrous big ruby and gave
me its history, as far as he knew it.
"It seems that there's a certain
highly respectable temple In one of
the Shan States of Burmah ('tis me
self forgets the name of It) and In
that temple there's an Idol, a Buddha
of pure gold, 'tis said. It would be a
perfectly good Buddha, only that It
lacks an eye; there's an empty socket
In its forehead, and 'tis there the
Pool of Flame belongs—or come from.
In the old days the natives called this
6tone the Luck of the State, and
maybe they were right; for when It
disappeared the state became a Brit
ish possession.
"In the war of 'eighty-five, says the
O'Mahoney, a small detachment of
British troops out of touch with their
command, happened upon this temple
we're speaking of and took It, dispos
sessing priests and populace without
so much as a day's notice. The officer
in command happened to see this eye
In the Buddha's forehead, pried it out
and put it In his pocket. In less than
an hour the natives surrounded the
temple and attacked in force. The
British stood them off for three days
and then were relieved; but In the
meantime the officer had been killed
and the Pool of Flame had vanished.
. . . For several years it stayed
quiet, so far as is known. Then the
curse of the thing began to work, and
it came to the surface In a drunken
brawl In the slums of Port Said. The
police, breaking Into some dive to
stop a row, found nobody in the place
but a dead Greek; they say 'twas a
shambles. One of the police found the
big ruby in the dead man's fist and
before his companions guessed what
was up slipped away with the stone.
. . He was murdered some months
later in a Genoese bagnio, by a French
girl, who got away with it somehow.
. . . The O'Mahoney came across
the thing in Algeria, when he was
serving with the Foreign Legion. He
was in Sidi Bel Abbas one night, off
duty, and wandering about, when he
heard a man cry out for help in one
of the narrow black alleys of the
place. He thought he recognized a
comrade's voice, and surely enough,
when he ran down to aid him, he
found a Dutchman, a man of his own
regiment, fighting with half a dozen
natives. He was about done for, the
Dutchman, when the O'Mahoney came
up, and so were three of the Arabs.
The O'Mahoney took care of the rest
of them, and left seven dead men be
hind him when he went away—the
six natives and the Dutchman, who
had died in his arms and given him
the Pool of Flame with his last whis
per. . . .
"That's how It came to me," said
O'Rourke.
"And where Is It now?"
"Back In Algeria, If I'm not mistak
en. ... Ye remember Chambret
—he was with us In the desert and
wanted ye to marry him afterwards?
He has it —the dear man; I love him
like a brother. . . . He sickened of
Europe when he found his case with
you was hopeless, and went to Al
giers, joining the Foreign Legion."
"But how—?"
"Well, we were fond of each other,
Chambret and I. I helped him out
of some tight corners and he helped
me along when me money ran short
—as It always did, and will, I'm
thinking. After a while I got to won
dering how much I owed the man
and figured It up; the sum total
frightened the life out of me. and I
made him take the ruby by way of se
curity—and never was able to redeem
It, for 'twas only a little after that
that 1 came into me enormous patri
mony and squandered It riotously get
ting married to the most beautiful
woman living.
"He warned me to hold the stone,
the O'Mahoney did, saying that the
time would come when some native
prince would ofTer to redeem the Luck
of the State as an act of piety and pa
triotism. He prophesied a reward of
at least fifty thousand pounds. And
now it's come —twice over!"
"And now what can you do?"
"Do?" cried O'Hourke. "Faith,
what would 1 be doing? D'ye realize
what this means to me, dear heart?
It means you—independence, a little
fortune, the right to claim my wife!"
He drew her to him. "Do? Sure, and
by the first train and boat I'll goto
Algeria, find Chambret, get him to
give me the stone, take it to Rangoon,
claim the reward, repay Chambret
and —"
"And what, my paladin?"
"Dare ye ask me that, madame?
. . . Say, will ye wait for me?"
She laughed softly. "Have I not
waited, Ulysses?"
"Tell me," he demanded, "have ye
talked with anyone about this letter?"
"Only to Clara Plinliinmon!"
"Good Lord!" groaned the Irishman.
"Only to her! Could ye not have
printed broadsides, the better to make
the matter public?"
"Did I do wrong?"
" 'Twas indiscreet —and that's put
ting it mildly, me dear. D'ye know
the woman's a walking newspaper?
How much did ye tell her? Did ye
show her the letter?"
"No." She answered his last ques
tion first "And I told her very little
—only about this reward for a ruby
1 didn't know you owned. We were
wondering where to find you."
"And she told no one—or who do
you think?"
The woman looked a little fright
ened. "She told —she must have told
that man —Monsieur des Trebes."
"That blackguard!"
"He was with us on the yacht, one
of Clara's guests."
"She has a pretty taste for com
pany—my word! How d'ye know she
told him? He asked you about it?"
"The letter? Yes. He wanted to
know the name of the solicitors and
their address. I wouldn't tell him. I
—disliked him."
"Had ye told Lady Plinlimmon?"
"No . .
"Praises be for thatl"
"WhyT"
"Because . . O'Rourke paaused,
vague suspicions taking shape in Qis
mind. "Why did he ask about Cham
bret?" he demanded. "How could he
have learned that the jewel was with
him?"
He Jumped up and began to pace
the floor.
His wife rose, grave with conster
nation. "What," she faltered —"what
makes you think, suspect—?"
"Because the fellow lied to me about
you this very night. Ye were with
Lady Plinlimmon in the Casino, were
ye not? Faith, and didn't I see ye? I
was in chase of ye when the man
stopped me with his rigmarole about
representing the French government
and having a secret commission tor
me. Ye heard him just now. . . .
And when 1 asked him was he of your
party, he denied knowing Lady Plin
limmon. . . . He made a later ap
pointment with me here, to taik
things over. I'm thinking he only
wanted time to think up a scheme for'
getting me out of the way. Also, he
wanted to find out where Chambret
was. D'ye not see through his little
game? To get me away from Monte
Carlo by the first morning train, that
we might not meet; to get me on the
first Atlantic liner, that 1 might not
interfere with his plot against Cham
bret. For what other reason would he
give me sealed orders? Sealed or
ders!" O'Rourke laughed curtly, tak
ing the long envelope from his pocket
and tearing it open. "Behold his
sealed orders, if ye please!"
He shuffled rapidly through his fin
gers six sheets of folded letter paper,
guiltless of a single pen-scratch,
crumpled them Into a wad aud threw
it from him.
"What more do I need to prove that
he's conspiring to steal the Pool of
Flame and claim for himself the re
ward? ... A bankrupt, discred
ited, with nothing but his title and
his fame as a duelist to give him
standing; is It wonderful that he's
grasping at any chance to recoup his
fortunes?" He took a swift stride to
ward the door, halted, turned. "And
young Glynn?" he demanded. "Was
he with you. and was he thick with
this precious-rogue of a vicomte?"
"They were much together."
"Faith, then it's clear as window -
glass that the two of them, bo»:h
broke, have figured out this thing, "be
tween them. . . . Well and gcitod!
I want no more than a hint of warn
ing. . . ."
He was interrupted by a knocking.
With a start and a muttered exclama
tion he remembered Van Einem, and
stepped to the door and out into a cor
ridor, shutting the woman In.
She remained where he had left,
her. her pretty brows knitted with
thought, for a time abstractedly con
scious of a murmur of voices in the
hallway. These presently ceased as
the speakers moved away. She turned
to one of the windows, leaning against
its frame and staring at the ominous
flicker and flare of sheet-lightning
which lent the night a ghastly lumin
osity.
A cool breeze sprang up. bellying
the curtains. The woman expanded to
it, reviving In its fresh breath from
the enervating influence of the even
ing's still heat. Her intuitive facul
ties began to work more vivaciously;
she began to divine that which had
been mysterious to her ere now.
The lightning grew more intense
and incessant, the thunder beating the
long roll of the charge. A heavy
gust of air chill as death made her
shiver. She shrank away from the
windows, a little awed, wishing for
O'Rourke's return, wondering what
had made him leave her so abruptly.
Then suddenly she knew. . . .
She could have screamed with hor
ror.
Almost simultaneously the door
slammed; her husband had returned.
With a little cry she flung herself
upon him, clinging to him, panting,
sobbing.
"Tell me," she demanded, "what you
intend to do? Do you mean to fight
him—Des Trebes?"
"In the morning," he answered
lightly, holding her tight and comfort
ing her. "'Tjs unavoidable; 1 pro
voked his challenge. He was obliged
to fight. But don't let that worry
ye—"
"Oh. my dear, my dear!" She
sobbed convulsively upon his breast.
"'Twill be nothing—hardly that; an
annoyance—no more. Believe me,
dear."
"What can you mean—?"
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Getting Back at Her.
She—l wouldn't marry you If you
were the only man on earth.
He —Well, considering that in such
a case I would have a large number
of stunners to select ttoax, 1 don'*
I «h*nfc you wouidL