fepnoiy ■ FXAME'iMjS by LOUIS JOSEPH VANCE.^^^^^9l COFYRICHT LOUI^OSEPH^A^E^^^^^^^L SYNOPSIS. The story opens at Monte Carlo with 'jol. Terence O'Rourke, a military free inco and something of a gambler. In his otel. I.eanlng on the balcony he sees a eautlful girl who suddenly enters the levator and passes from sight. At the imlng table O'Rourke notices two men • inching him. One Is the Hon. Bertie ilynn, while his companion Is Viscount )<■» Trebea, a duelist. The viscount tells Ini the French government has directed Im to O'Rourke as a man who would ndevtake a secret mission. At his apart lent, O'Rourke. who had agreed to un ertake the mission, finds a mysterious •tter The viscount arrives, hands a ealed package to O'Rourke, who Is not o open It until on the ocean. A pair of 'alnty slippers are seen protruding from ■iidcr a doorway curtain. The Irishman Inds the owner of the mysterious feet to le his wife, Beatrix, from whom he had un away a year previous. They are econctled, and opening the letter he finds hat a Rangoon law firm offers him iMi.OOO pounds for a Jewel known as the J oOl of Flame and left to him by a dy ng friend, but now In keeping of one lamed Chambret In Algeria. O'Rourke vorsts the nobleman In a duel. The wife (ids O'Rourke farewell and he promises o soon return with the reward. He dis ■overs both Glynn and the viscount on ioard the ship. As he finds Chambret here Is an attack by bandits and his riend dies telling O'Rourke that he has eft the Pool of Flame with the governor reneral. who at sight of a signet ring Uven the colonel will deliver over the ewel. Arriving at Algeria the Irishman mils the governor general away. Des frebes makes a mysterious appointment, nil tells O'Rourke that he has gained tossesslon of the jewel by stealing It. In duel O'Rourke masters the viscount, secures possession of the Fool of Flame ir.d starts by ship for Rangoon. He finds he captain to be a smuggler who tries to teal the Jewel It Is finally secured by he captain and O'Rourke escapes to and. With the aid of one Danny and ils sweetheart, O'Rourke recovers the of Flame. On board ship once more, jound for Rangoon, a mysterious lady ippears. CHAPTER XIX. The wanderer had come upon Mrs. >rynne but once since he had board ed the Panjnab. That morning, him elf early astir because of his vague nisgivings. he had discovered her on he hurricane deck of the liner; an in conspicuous, slight figure in the shad ow of a life-boat, leaning upon the ail and gazing with (he fancied) roubled eyes, out and across the •vaste below Ismalia. Though she must have been con scious of nearing footsteps, she had not stirred, and he had passed on, gaining but a fugitive glimpse of a profile sweetly serious; nor had she appeared either at breakfast or lunch son. A circumstance which led him to surmise that she did not court ob servation; an idiosyncrasy which seemed passing strange in a woman so fair. He told himself that she wore an air of watchfulness, of vague expec tancy, as though she, like himself, feared some untoward mishap; that she had the manner of one definitely apprehensive, constantly on guard against some unforeseen peril. Now, he asked himself, what could it be? What threatened her? And why? He dimly promised himself the pleasure of her acquaintance, relying in the rapid intimacy that springs up between strangers on a long voyage, with a still more indefinite intention of putting himself at her service in any cause that she might be pleased to name, provisionally: she must not interfere with his plans for reaching Rangoon "in ninety days." That night he was hoping to find the lady at dinner; but though the ship's company was small, he failed to see her in the saloon, at either the captain's, the chief officer's or the doctor's table; nor, so far as he could determine, was she taking the air on deck. Was it possible, then, that he had been right, that she had a reason equally as compelling as his own for sc-cludlng herself? Or, was it simply (and Infinitely more probably) that Mrs. Prynne was indisposed, an ener vated victim of excessive heat? The latter conjecture proved ap parently the right one. Mrs. Prynne faliinfi to appear during the tv/o fol lowing days, while the Panjnab was rocking down the Red Sea channel; and O'Rourke grew interested enough (he had little else to occupy his mind, for a duller voyage he had never known) to give Danny permission to pursue his inquiries: with an injunc tion, however, prohibiting too lavish an expenditure of the boy's wealth of affection. Whereupon Danny return ed with the information that the mis tress of Cecile, the maid, was suffer ing from heat exhaustion. This was entirely reasonable. O'Rourke accepted the demolition of his airy castles of Romance, laughed at himself, in part was successful In putting the woman out of mind; doubtless. In time, he would have done 60 altogether, had not the lady chosen to take the air the night that the Panjnab negotiated the Straits of Bab-el-Mandeb. For on that same night, O'Rourke. himself wakeful, was minded to ait up and watch the lights at Perim Island heave Into view. Q'itourfc*. Ui a deck-chair on to* starboard side, well cloaked In the shadow of the deck above, watch ed the other passengers, one by one, quiet their chatter, yawn, stretch and slip below to stuffy staterooms. He suffered a dreamy eye to rove where It would, greedy of the night's superb illusion. Pour bells —two o'clock —chimed upon his consciousness like a physical shock. He verified the hour by his watch and, reluctantly enough, agreed that it was time he got himself to bed. He half rose from his chair, then sank back with an inaudible catch of his breath. Without warning the ap parition of a white-clad woman had Invaded the promenade deck. For an instant he hardly credited his eyes, then, with n nod of recognition, he Identified Mrs. Prynne. Unquestionably unconscious of his presence in the shadow, she fell to pacing to and fro. Now and again, she stopped, and with chin cradled in her small hands, elbows on the rail, watched the approaching cliffs of Arabia; then, with perhaps a sigh, re turned to her untimely constitutional. Partly because he had no wish to startle her, partly because he was glad to watch unobserved (he had a rare eye for beauty, the O'Rourke), the wanderer sat on without moving, stirred only by active curiosity. The strangeness of her appearance upon deck at such an hour fascinated his imagination no less than her person held his eye. He gave himself over to vain and profitless speculation. . . . Why, he wondered, should she keep to her cabin t,he greater part of the evening, only to take the air when none might ba supposed to observe her? Why, if not to escape such observa tion? Then, he to!d himself, he must be right in his supposition that she had something to fear, someone to avoid. What or whom? What was it all, what the mystery that, as ho watched her, seemed to grow, to cling about her like some formless, im palpable garment? Events conspired to weave the man into the warp and woof of her affairs; more quickly than he could grasp the reason for his sudden action, he found himself a-foot and dashing aft at top speed. But an instant gone Mrs Prynne had passed him, unmolested and wrapped in her splendid isola tion; and then from the after part of the deck he had heard a slight and guarded cry of distress, and a small scuffling sound. In two breaths he was by her side and found her struggling desperately in the arms of a lascar—a deck-hand on the steamer. At first the strangeness of the busi ness so amazed O'Rourke that ha paused and held his hand, briefly rooted In action. For although It was apparent that she had been caught oft her guard, wholly unprepared against assault, and while she struggled fierce ly to break the lascar's hold, the wom an still uttered no cry. A single scream would have brought her aid; yet she held her tongue. The two, the woman's slight, white figure and the lascar's gaunt and sin ewy one, strained and fought, swaying silently in the shadows, tensely, with the effect of a fragment of some dis ordered nightmare. But then, as the lascar seemed about to overpower his victim, O'Rourke, electrified, sprang upon the man's back. With one strong arm deftly he embraced the fellow, an elbow beneath his chin forcing his head up and back. With the other hand O'Rourke none too gently tore away an arm encircling the woman. Then wrenching the two apart, he sent a knee crashing into the small of the lascar's back, all but breaking him in two, and so flung him sprawling Into the scuppers. Without a word the man slid upon his shoulders a full half-dozen feet, while O'Uourke had a momentary glimpse of his face in the moonlight —dark-skinned and sinister of expres sion with its white, glaring eyeballs. Then, In one bound, he was on hia feet again and springing lithely back to the attack: and as he came on a jag ged gleam of moonlight ran like light ning down the sinuous and formidable length of a kris, most deadly of knives. O'Rourke fell back a pace or two. His own hands were empty; he had nothing but naked fists and high cour age to pit against the lascar and his kris. Keenly alert, he threw himself Into a pose of defence. nut O'Uourke had forgotten the woman; it was enough that he had made possible her escape, and he had no thought other than she had fled. It was. therefore, with as much surprise as relief that he caught the glimmer of her white figure as she thrust her self before him and saw the lascar bring up in the middle of a leap, his nose not an Inch from the muxzla of an army Webley of respect-compelling caliber. Simultaneously, he heard her voice, clear and incisive If low of tone: "Drop that knife!" The kris shivered upon the deck. "Faith!" murmured tho Irishman, "and what manner of woman is this, now?" The lascar stood as rigid as though carven out of stone, long, gaunt legs shining softly brown beneath his cool, dazzling white cummerbund, the up per half of his body lost in the shadow of the deck, a gray blur standing for his turban. O'Rourke stepped forward, with a quick movement kicking the kris over board, and would have seized the fel low but that the woman intervened. She said decisively: "If you please —no." Bewildered, O'Rourke hesitated. "I beg your pardon—" he said in con fusion. She did not reply directly; her at tention was all for the lascar, whom her revolver still covered. To him, "Go!" she said sharply, with a signifi cant motion of the weapon. The lascar stepped back, with a sin gle wriggle losing himself In the dense shadows. O'Rourke fairly gasped amazement at the woman, who, on her part, re treated slowly until her back touched the railing. She remained very quiet and thoroughly mistress of herself, be traying agitation only by slightly quickened breathing and cold pallor. Her eyes racked the deck on either hand: it was plain that she had no faith in the lascar, perhaps apprehend ed his return; yet her splendid con trol of her nerves evoked the Irish man open admiration. "Faith!" he cried, breaking the tense silence, " 'tis yourself shames me, madam, with the courage of ye!" She flashed him a glance, and laughed slightly. "Thank you," she returned. "I'm sure I don't know where I should be now but for you." " 'Twas nothing at all. Hut ye'll Found Her Struggling Desperately in the Armi of a Lascar. pardon me for suggesting that ye have made a mistake, madam." "A mistake?" she echoed; and then, thoughtfully: "No, 1 shouldn't call it that." "Letting him go, I mean. Neither of us, 1 believe, could well Identity him. When ye report this outrage to the captain, whom will ye accuse?" "I shall accuse no one," she said quietly, "for 1 shan't report the af fair." "Ye will not —" he cried, astounded. "Indeed, 1 am quite sincere: I shall do nothing whatever about It. It Is. moreover, a favor which I shall ask of you. to say nothing of the matter to anyone." O'Rourke hesitated, unwilling to be lieve that he had heard aright "Believe me." ihe was sarin* earn «Oy. "I have good reason for Bak ing s request so unaccountable to you." "But—but—Mrs. Prynne—!" "Oh, you know me then?" she inter rupted sharply. And her look was curioua and intent. "I—"-'Us —faith!" O'Rourke stammer ed. Me felt his face burn. "Me valet told me," he confessed miserably. " 'Ti* a bit of flirtation he's been hav ing M'llh your maid, Cecile, I believe, madam." "Ah, yes." She seemed unaccount abf relieved. "You, then, are Colonel O'Rourke?" He bowed. "Terence O'Rourke, Diadam, and at your service, believe uae." "I am very glad," she said slowly, eyeing him deliberately, "that, since I had to be aided, it came through one of whom I have heard BO much —" "Faith, Mrs. Prynne—!" "And I thank you a second time, very heartily!" She offered him her hand, and smiled bewitchingly. " 'Tis embarrassing me ye are." he protested. "Faith, to be thanked twice for so slight a service! 1 can only wish that I might do more —" "It Is possible." she said, apparent ly not In the least displeased by his presumption— "It is possible that I may take you at your word, Colonel O'Rourke." In her eyes, intent upon Ills, he fancied that ho recognized an amused flicker, with, perhaps, a trace of deep er emotion: the kindling Interest of a woman in a strong man, with whose signals he was not unfamiliar. Pride and his conceit stirred in his breast. " 'Twould be the delight of me life," he told her In an ecstasy. "Don't be too sure, I warn you, colonel." Her manner was now arch, her smile entirely charming. "It might be no light service I should require of you." "Ye couldn't ask one too hpavy. . . . But 'tis weary ye are. Mrs. Prynne?" he inquired, solicitous. "Very." There was in fact an In definite modulation of weariness in her voice. "I'm only a woman." she said faintly, with a little gesture of deprecation; "and my ways are hedged about with grave perils—" "'TIs the O'Rourke would gladly brave them all for ye. madam," he de clared gallantly. "Command me— what ye will." She lifted her gaze to his. coloring divinely there in the moon-glamor. He looked Into her curiously bewitching eyes and saw there an appeal and a strange little tender smile. Her head was so near his shoulder that he was aware of the vague, alluring perfume of her hair. Her scarlet lips parted . . And he became suddenly aware that it behooved him to hold himself well In hand. It were an easy mat ter to imagine himself swept off his feet. Into a whirl of infatuation, with a little encouragement. And he was not unsophisticated enough to fail to see that encouragement would not be lacking If he chose to recognize It. "Faith," he told himself, "I'm think ing 'twould be wiser for me to take to me heels and run before . . ." He was spared the Ignominious ne cessity of flight. In two breaths they showed two very different pictures. Now they stood alone on the dead white deck, alone with the ntght, the sea, the stars, the silence and the moonlight: O'Rourke a bit dismayed and wary, but as curious as any man in »uch a case; the woman apparent ly yielding to a sudden fascination for him, swaying a little toward him as if Inviting th« refu£*< of his arms. . . . And now she started away, clutching at her heart, with a little choking cry of alarm; while beneath them the vessel was still quivering with a harsh yet deadened detonation like an explosion, togeOer with a grinding crash and shriek of riven! steel somewhere deep In the hold. Inexpressibly dismayed, they stared with wide und questioning eyes at one another, through a long minute filled with an indescribable uproar: a succes sion of shocks and thumps In the in terior of the vessel gradually dimin ishing in severity while, in a pande monium of clamorous voices, the liner, like a stricken thing, hesitated in its southward surge, then slowly limped into a dead halt on the (ace of the waters. . . . CHAPTER XX. O'Rourke's first fears were for the woman, his first words a lie designed to reassure her. "What —what does it mean?" she gasped faintly, her face as white as marble, her eyes wide and terrified. "Sure, I'm thinking 'tis nothing at all." he answered readily, with a smile amending, "nothing of any great con sequence, that is to say. Permit me to escort ye to your cabin." "I'm not afraid." Mrs. Prynne Inter jected. "Faith, I see that, madam. But your maid, now—? Would it not be well to return to your stateroom and quiet her. whilst I'm ascertaining the cause of this trouble? I promise to advise ye Instantly, whether there's danger or not." "You're very thoughtful," she re turned. "I'm sure you're right. Thank you." He escorted her to her stateroom and left her at the door, remarking Its number and renewing his pledge to return In ten minutes —more speedily if possible, lie was back In five, with a long face. Mrs. Prynne answered Instantly his double-knocked summons and, step ping out quickly, closed the door tight. In the fraction of a second that It was wide, however. O'Rourke saw one side of the stateroom warm and bright with electric light, and sitting there, Cecile the maid, completely dressed, wide awake and vigilant. The girl was French and sullenly handsome after her kind. O'Rourke got an Impression of a resolute chin and resolute eyes under level brows; and he did not in the least doubt that she was quite pre pared to make good and effectual use of the revolver which she held pointed directly at the opening. Why? From her mistress' poise, too—one arm rigid at her side, the hand con cealed In the folds of her gown— O'Rourke divined that she was alert, armed, on her guard no less than the maid. Rut she left him no time to puzzle over the mystery. "Well?" she demanded breathlessly. " 'Tis as I thought, Mrs. Prynne A cylinder-head has blown off and done no end of damage. We're crippled, if in no danger. The other screw will take us far as Aden, but there we'll have to wait for the next boat." Mrs. Prynne's face clouded with dis may. "How long—a day or two?" she demanded. "Mayhap," he replied, no less dis consolate; "mayhap 3.3 much as a week. Faith, 'tis meself that would It were otherwise, but I fear there's no mending matters." She regarded him thoughtfully for an Instant. "Then you, too, travel in haste, colo nel?" "Indeed I do so, madam. Me for tune hangs upon me haste. If I get — there"—he checked himself in time, the word Rangoon upon his lips—"too late, 'twill be all up. I'm heavy with an urgent enterprise, madam." And he smiled. The woman looked past him, down the dusk of the gangway, apparently pondering her dilemma. "What will you do?" she inquired at length. "Faith!" he said, disturbed, "that's hard to say." She flashed him an Ironic look. "You mean you ai'e resigned to the in evitable?" "Be the powers!" he cried in re sentment, "I'm resigned to nothing that doesn't please me. Is it that ye ask me aid? Sure, if ye do. neither the inevitable nor the impossible shall keep ye from arriving at Bombay, and on time!" (TO BE CONTINUED.) Polyglot Chicago. The introduction of Polish as a course in the public schools of Chi cago, by Superintendent Ella Flagg Young, is an Interesting experiment, though some may regard it as a rash one. There is a tendency among chil dren of foreign parentage to drop their native language, while it would no doubt add to the general culture of tlie rising generation in our large cities if they would retain it along with the prescribed studies. If the ex periment is successful. Mrs. Young proposes to follow it up with other languages. There are perhaps 150,000 Poles in the city, but there are 14 tongues, each of which is spoken by more thaa 10,000 persons. Newspa pers appear in ten languages and church services are neld in twenty. In all there are forty different lan guares of dialects employed to express the thoughts, needs and emotions oi the population. Chicago Is the second largest Bohemian city In the world, the third Swedish, the fourth Norwe gian, the fifth Polish and the flftb German. If all these are to be in structed in their national language and literature the city will eventually need an Elihu Burritt or a George F. Marnh to direct Its educational ao tivities. —Boston Transcript. Don't Forget the Walter. "Well, our vacation la over. W« leave for home todtty." [ "I see the waiter has decorated oui j table with rosemary." I "Rosemary, eh? Ah. ye»; that's tf ' remembrance." by's There isn't an other sliced dried beef like it. Good ? It's the inside cut of the finest beef sliced to wafer thin ness. I < #^sL Dried Beef stands supreme. The tasty dishes one can make with it are almost numberless. Let's see ! There's creamed dried beef, and—but just try it. Then you'll know ! Always Insist on Libby's Don't accept "ajust as good." From relish to roast, from condiment to conserve, the quality of Libby's Ready-to-Serve Poods is always Superior. And they don't cost one whit more than the ordinary kinds. Put up in tttrilixej glata or tin containera At Every Grocer* Libby, McNeill & Libby Chicago The average man makes the mis take of overestimating his greatness. olrn. Winslow's Soothing Syrup for Children teething, softeus the gums, reduces inMainma tiou, allays pain, cures wind colic, 25c a bottle. Out of Reach. Townley—How's the new cook get ting on? Subbubs—l don't know. She didn't leave her address. —Boston Transcript. Show Devotion to Queen. Queen Alexandra was very much touched by the devotion of the wom en of every station of life who sold floweis on Alexandra day for one of her pet charities, the hospitals of London. More than $150,000 was col lected, and next year it is said that all of England will celebrate the queen mother's day in the same way. NATURALLY. Hi* —Wigson looks so sheepish lately. Dix —No wonder. He's raising mut* tonchop whiskers. 112 > A Triumph Of Cookery— Post Toasties Many delicious dishes have been made from Indian Com by the skill and ingenuity of the ex pert cook. But none of these crea tions excels Post Toast ies in tempting the palate. "Toasties" are a lux ury that make a delight ful hot - weather economy. The first package tells its own story. "The Memory Lingers" Sold by Grocers. Poatum Canal Compur. United. Bud* Cr«k. Mick, U, S. A.
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