Crawfordsville Weekly Journal, Crawfordsville, Montgomery County, 13 December 1895 — Page 7

MKSTERT

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/AUTHOR OF *TM£ MiONlOMT Sur«,'ETC. (Copyright, 1895, by American Press Association.]

It was pinm rrom crmvn manner that he had solved tho mystery, which Was still hidden from me. I did not wish him to know that, so 1 smiled significantly, as if the whole thing was clear. "Suppose you give me your theory, md I will see whether it agrees with mine." "TheoryI There's no theory about it It's fact Besides you warned me against the theorizing business. Did you hear about Burling?"

I was compelled to shake my head. "Right after that scamp of a Howard Bold me Nana Sahib's ruby he sold another to Burling down the street It was smaller than mine, or, rather, Sandhusen's, but so big that it would excite wonder anywhere. Burling paid him $15,000 for it and without delay sent it to Amsterdam, certain of tripling his money." "How did ho succeed?" "Directly i»fter it should have reached his correspondents Burling received a cablegram saying that it was missing. Evidently they had made an investigation and learned something, for they promised full particulars by mail. "And," added Brown impressively, "the particulars came."

CHAPTER XXI

FBOM TOE DIARY OF DAWAK NARAD A, BENARES, INDIA. The Americans are a delightful people. I love them. They are bright and olever—that is, they think they are, which is tho same thing. They are fond of hoodwinking other people. Therefore

it is a pleasure to hoodwink them. My husba'.id Luchjid thought they were too wiso for us, but I convinced him they were not Now he agrees with me, for we wore so successful.

The father of Luchjid was one of the most learned men in all India. He devoted most of his life to the study of alchemy and chemistry. His dream was to learn how to make gold from the baser elements. He tried it for 12 years, but could not succeed. Then he gave his mental powers to the making ot diamonds, one of the forms of carbon. After five years' Jahor he succeeded. He formed a nmuber of pure diamonds but, alas, tboy were small and .had one defect—*Jvjir raanui'actui-t) cost more than Jfco oi.es were worth.

He had th. aous, who toiled with him. One of them persuaded him to try to make rubies. No jewel is so valuable as a real pigeon blood ruby. He fraotured a number and studied their composition under tho microscope and with the aid of many chemicals known only to himself

By and by he produced a perfect ruby but, alasl that, too, cost more than it was worth. (Jould he have succeeded in framing a large one, like Nana Sahib's ruby, which ho had seen and held in his hand, ho would have been wealthy, for the worth of a stone of thai size is beyond estimate, but when he passed beyond two or threo carats the action of th2chemicals became faulty,and though the gem looked right it would not deceive au expert

But he did not give over the effort. Years were spent beuding over his vessefe in the laboratory and toiling night and day. His sons became discouraged, all but the youngest, Arnik, who assured him that he would succeed.

At last a strange success came to the old man. He made a perfect ruby of 30 oarats. In every respect it was equal to Nana Sahib's ruby, except that it was not so large. It was as hard, as brilliant •nd as luminous. It would preserve all these qualities, but only for a tiina At the end of 20 days—almost to the hour —it would of itself dissolve into gas •nd a few crimson particles.

Having been a ruby for that period, it would cease to exist The great man could do nothing more and was so worn out from his years of thought and labor that one day, while at work in his shop, he was seized with a fatal faintness. My husband was alone with him. Knowing he had but a few minutes to live, he told Luchjid the secret, making him promise to explain it to his brothers, Arnik and Parjee.

Arnik entered a few minutes before his father died. Ho bade his son goodby and told him that Luchjid had the secret, which might be made very valuable, and would let him know all about it So ho diod.

When the body of the old man had been placed away in the tomb and the season of mourning had passed, Arnik and Parjee asked their elder brother for the secret, for they saw the prospect of great gain. My husband felt that to share with them would lessen his profits, and so he wisely refused to enlighten them. He did well. [Note.—Observe the complacency with whioh this perfidy is dismissed by the beautiful woman who called herself Mrs. Howard when in America. 1

The younger brothers were very angry and threatened the life of my good husband. He and I therefore left India secretly. In London Luchjid hired a place and followed the directions his father had left to him His success was complete. He mado threo rubies of ten carats each and sold them for a large sum.

We hastoned from London, for the truth was sure to become known soon. Wfi mount to visit the capitals of EnTopi\ but we thought of dear America. The people there were longing for ns to come to them. The dear people appreciate genius.

There was but one cause of trouble. Luchjid's brothers seemed to grow angrier and followed us everywhera They were wicked enough tojwish to do my good husband harm merely because he ohose to keep a valuable seoret to him-

seit. We first intended to hirg rooms in New York where my husband could toil alone with his chemicals, but he waa wise. Then Arnik and Parjee might hire skillful mon who would trace him and compel him to give up his secret, or they would find it out for themselves.

In making the rubies the chemicals give off an overpowering odor, to whioh my husband and I had become accustomed. The odor was so strange that it would be sure to attract attention in a great city. Officers of the law might make inquiries, thinking we were making money unlawfully, and so discover tho truth.

I said we must find a secluded place in the country among the simple folk, who bad no curiosity, and where wo could be on our guard against approach from any direction. We found such a place and removed thither.

But we were greatly in fear of thoso bad men, who wero somewhere in New York. They wero evil enough to hire others to watch and follow us. So we took all precautions wo could, my husband and 1 not recognizing each other In leaving the city until we reached the eouutry town near whioh we made our tome a part of the. una.

My husband s.-'.d at the Astor Hons# when in New York because it was convenient to Mriidon lane, the home of most of the great, jewelers. I went to a hotel farther up town, both of us using our American names, because we were not afraid to appear oponly and honestly before the public.

Luchjid succeeded in making the finest ruby of all in the workshop at our country home. It was at my suggestion that ho called it Nana Sahib's ruby, for nearly every one knows that that is the greatest ruby in the world. He placed it in tho hands of a jeweler named Brown to sell for him.

On tho little box in which the ruby was placed my husband always put a mark which told him the exact ago of the stone. Knowing that at the end of 20 days it would decay, vanish, turn to nothingness,, he must of necessity complete its sale within that period, orhe would have nothing to sell.

After he had left the Nana Sahib ruby with Mr. Brown my husband became very much frightened, believing he had made a mistake as to itsaga He bad given Mr Brown a week in which to sell it, but Luchjid fu»red it would not live that long. lie sent me to call on Mr Brown and learn the truth. 1 did so. When I admired the jpwpj and turned it over in my hr.art and looked at the box, I mado tbf, dreadful discovery that within 12 houvs the ruby would pass out of existence. It payment was not secured within that time or a littla more, all our calculations would go amiss.

Mr Brown is a very kind hearted man I purchased a small ruby of him to keep in Ins good graces, but there was no need of that, for lie was so impressed with my appearance tbst he acted very foolishly and showed that ho had fallen in lovo with me.

Note hy Mr. Brown.—A base libel. There's not a word of truth in what she writes.

When the morrow would arrive and the gentleman who had purchased the great ruby found that he had nothing of the kind in his possession, he would be sure that he had been robbed. Suspicion would unjustly point to us, so my husband and myself left New York that night and staid in our country home. That was sufficient to prove our innocence if any one should be base enough to make a charge against us.

I learned that the buyer was Mr Sandhusen, who, like myself, was staying at the Windsor hotel. Although we had never spoken, 1 knew he was very wealthy, and therefore it would not harm him to lose the sum he paid for the ruby.

When this gentleman opened the box in his desk the next morning, tho gem was gone. In his excitement he took no note of the little grains left behind, nor did he notice tho slight odor of the released gas, which should have attracted his attention.

The smaller ruby which was sont to Amsterdam crumbled and dissolved on the way, but the jewelers who received it were wise, because they were not Americans They noticed the odor, they detected the tiny grains and suspected the truth. They examined more closely, and the ingenious scheme was comprehended. They wrote to the jewoier in Maiden lane who had forwarded it to them, and then an investigation was made, which caused everything to become clear.

Before that was done, however, my good husband and I had left America. We had some droadi'ul experiences ere we got away on the steamer Knowing that nothing could be proved against us, wo wero nor, afraid and would hv.-e remained longer in America but for 'lie persecution of those wicked brothers of Luchjid. They followed us out to our country home and hired a man to hilp them. They got into a quarrel, and one of them was shot, though, sad to say not killed.

The man whom they paid forced his way into our workshop, but misfortune came again, for the simple old woman with whom we lived restored him to life when I had arranged everything so as to punisn mm lor neiping to perse onto us.

We aro back in India at last in our clear old home. The only fear 1 have is ot Arnik and Parjee, who must still bv very angry, but I pray that thev msiv eee the error of their ways aud leave u:» alone Bismallah!

THK KNlJ.

Illg Pour Holiday Kxcurfclniix!

For Christinas, 1895. and N."v Year, 1S0I5, the Big Four route will mII tickets at one and one-third fare for the round trip. Tickets w!l be sold between all points on the Hig- Four route, good going December 24, 25 and 31, 1895, and Kanuary 1, 18i)3. good returning until Jan. a, 1S0G, inclusive.

W. B. PATTERSON, Agent, Crawfordsville, Ind.

fRANK BARRETT

oorrniQHT, ta«a. »r oabsiu Co. and fuau»HiD •v 8PKCIAL ARRANOIMaNT

CHAPTER I.

AT TIIE MARINER'S JOT.

I was lazing on the rotten balcony before the busy front of the Mariner's Joy when I first saw Taras. lie

CM

me from Ferryboat

alley, the passage running between the Joy and Baxter's wharf and leading to the steps where the old ferry used to ply, between that part of Shadwell aud Rotberhithe, and another man was with him named Drigo. Taras was a fine, big man, fair, with a long tawny mustache and a short beard. He was dressed like a workman in a dark gray suit, a flannel shirt aud a blue handkerchief for a tie, but he didn't look like a workman for all that—at any rate not such as you see down Shadwell way. He was too clean and active for that. Drigo was not a bit like him. being middle aged, meager, with a stoop in his shoulders, and having a yellow face, with high cheek bones, a sparse black beard and slanting eyes. Men like him are common enough about Wapping and the Highway.

They walked down to the stairs, and Drigo pointed across toward the Comme-vjial docks, but I could not make out what ue said. Taras nodded, aud they turned round and looked attentively at the Mariner's Joy and then at Baxter's wharf on the right and .Johnson's yard at the left, Drigo talking with great earnestness in a low voice all the while and Taras listening gravely as he smoked his pipe and replying only with a word or a nod of his head from time to time. 1 couldn't make out what they found to interest them, for Baxter's wharf was shut up—and had been shut up for years—anl there was nothing in Johnson's yard but a great heap of rusting boilers and old iron. As for the Mariner's Joy, with its broken windows, the gaping planks of its bay front and the rotten balcony projecting over the muddy foreshore, there was nothing in that to attract attention. They saw me, and Drigo made a joke at my expense, I believe, for he chuckled as he stared at me, but Tar is smoked on gravely and never smiled.

At length they quitted the steps and came up Ferryboat alley, and a'minute or two afterward I heard their, open the door in Sweet Apple lane and enter the sanded bar. I went in through the bar parlor to serve them. "Give us some gin, miss," said Drigo, speaking with an odd accent. ,•

"Otvc its some gin, miss," said Drigo. "We ain't got no gin. We're lost our license," I answered. "That's a good sign," said Drigo in a low tone, nudging Taras. "What do you people drink here?" Taras asked. "Pongelo—four half gen'ily."

They decided to have some "four half," and while 1 was drawing it Taras said: "Can we have a room here for a few days?" 'Tain't likely. None of the rooms ain't furnished, 'ceptin the parlor, and the bloke sleeps in that." "Where is the bloke?" "Gorned out." "When will he be in?" "Don't know. Preaps five minutes, preaps not afore shuttin up time."

All that 1 know now has been acquired since that time. Then I spoke like a savage and was little better than a savage in any way, having lived from my earliest dayo friendless and utterly neglected.

Taras and Drigo spoke together in a tongue unknown to me, and that gave me an opportunity of looking at them more closely. Taras was about 32 then, and as I have said a fine, large man. There were resolution and strength in his chin and nose, but great kindness in his mouth and clear, deep blue eyes. I could see then that he was to be loved and feared as well. Not so Drigo. There was nothing to love in his face. His deep sunk black eyes were crafty his mouth was brutal his mustache was clipped, and bristling out added to the ferocity of the lower part of his face. Two front teeth were missing, aud the rcjfi were black. His face was deeply market! by the smallpox. That type of man wiu not unknown to me. "I suppose we may wait here till the—thy bloke returns?" Taras said. ,' "You ken if you like." "Is he your father?" asked Drigo, st riiiift himself on the bench facing the bar. "No." "Your husband?" "No." "What then?" "What's that to you?" I replied. "WThat is it to any one?" I asked mynelf as I made my way through the bar parlor to my former place on the balcony. "What does it matter to any one who 1 am or what I am? A homeless dog would find more friends than I a drowning cat would get more pity. What good am 1 to any one? What good is life to me?"

Such thoughts as these were passing through my mind as I lolled upon the sodden handrail of the platform, looking oat at the thick, dun water that sluggit'.!! lapped the slimy shore, when feeling I Le presence of some oue I turned my head and perceived Taras standing near with a notebook and a pencil in his hands. He had found his way out there by the pas sage and was amusing himself by sketching mo, leaning against the wall, with 1 is pipe In his mouth. I thought he was taking n:e oil." finding something in my face to ridicule like every one else, and 1 turned my back on him. Not that I minded whether he made sport of me or not—I wai too accustomed to serve as the butt a' courso jcat ana nearness sarcasm co neea another shaft, more or less, even from one who seemed less brutal than the restbut I had no desire to add to the amusement of my natural enemies. "Do you mind standing* as you stood just

now?- lie asKcu. "Garn aw'y," I repljed, turning on him spitefully. "Who d'ye think y're a-gettin at? D'ye think I don't know yergame? D'ye think I'm going to stand for you to make fun of me? I'm as ugly ns sin and not so pleasant—there y'ure. I know what I am." "Uglyl" ho said, with an accent of astonishment. "Yes, ugly. Else why do they call me the kipper?" "Tho kipper? That is the fish with warm, reddish brown color the color of your hair." "No, it ain't. They call mo 'goldin surrup' and 'treacle' when they're gcttin at the color of my hair, and they call me 'kipper' because I'm so skinny and flat. They can call me anything they likes to lay their tongue to—I don't mind, but 1 ain't goin to be drawed and stuck up for all the lotto laugh at—not me!"

Just then I heard the front door open, and going into the bar I met the blokePutty was his name—who had returned. He was all right—quite sober—for a wonder. I gave him the money I had taken, and nodding nt Drigo said: "These parties is a-waitin to see you."

Pie had not yet noticed Drigo, who sat up in a dark corner watching him as if to find out what f^rt of a man they had to deal with. Puti now examined him in the same way, anO then turning to Taras, who had entered from the passage, treated him to along stare. we want to know if you can let us have the use ot a room tor a rew nignts," saia Taras. "For a private purpose," added Drigo, ri-ing, and dropping his voice as became eioser said, with a wink, "unbeknown to outsiders, you understand."

Putty nodded, and addressing me said, "Hook it," as ho took down a pot and drew himself some beer. Taras gave me a pleasant nod as I slunk out by the front door. That altered my destiny. It was not an uncommon thing for me to be sent out of the way when Putty had business affairs to talk about with his customers across the bar of the Joy, and 1 never troubled myself even to wonder what his secret dealings were, but that kindly look in the face of Taras excited a strange feeling of interest in my mind, which made me curious to know what business he had to transact with such a rascal as the bloke.

I slipped down Ferryboat alley to the shore, climbed up the rotten timbers on to the balcony and edged myself into the bar parlor, where I could hear pretty distinctly all that was said in the bar.

Drigo was speaking, but his broken English and the low., crafty tone of his voice made what he said unintelligible to me. It seemed to perplex Putty also, for presently interrupting him he said with irritation: "Here! It's no manner of use your being so cussed sly over this here business. I must know all theparticlers straightforard afore I go into it. Here, 1 likes your looks better 'an what I do your parduer's, mate. Lemme hear what you've got to say." "The matter's simple enough," replied Taras. "Three friends have left their country for certain reasons. To do so they engaged themselves as sailors on board a vessel bound for London. Their contract

biDds

them to return with the ship to their /untry, and they cannot openly break the tontract without rendering themselves liable to be taken back by force. But they intend to desert, and our object is to provide a place of refuge to which we may convey them by night from their ship as soon as it arrives, and where they may change their seagoing clothes for the dress we shall have in readiness for them. We chose this inn for that purpose because it is conveniently near the dock and is not open to observation. If you do not choose to let us use your house, we must find another. That is the whole matter." "Now I tumble to it right enough," said Putty. "I see you're a gen'leman, sir, and I allers likes to deal with gen'lemen. But you will understand, sir, that all this here is agen the law, and I lay myself open to lose my license aud get a month or two of hard even for lettin of parties into the house after closin hours." "I will pay you for your risk. How much do you want?" "It's more risky than what you think. It looks a dead and alive hole, as no one comes anigh once in a blue moon, but the coppers keep a bloomiu sharp eye on us all the same. When do you expect this here ves sel?" "Tomorrow. But it might be delayed till Saturday." "That means a sittin up on the lookout two or three nights. Of course the job would be pulled off when nobody much ain't about?" "Between 2 and 8 in the morning, if possi ble." "That'd do." Then after a little cousid eration Putty said: "Here, I'll tell yon what I'll do with you. You shall have the use of my room for a dollar a night while you're on the lookout, and you shall hand over five quid the night the job is pulled off and your mates get clear. Now I can't, say fairer than that, can I?"

Taras accepted these terms, and after some further discussion he and Drigo left the Joy, saying they would return the fol lowing afternoon. 1 slipped out of the Joy hy the way 1 had entered it and hurried round to the front. Impelled, I think, by some unrecognized' hope that Inras would nod to tne again. 1 know that I sank down on the steps of Baxter's wharf disconsolate when 1 saw him in the distance turn the corner of I'\t ryboat alley and disappear without looking back. 1 had been sitting there in dull apathy siy elbows on my knees and my chin [n aiy palms, a quarter of an hour or -JO min at.es, when I heard a step in the alley ami turning my eyes saw Drigo coming back Just before he reached the Mariner's Joy he stopped and facingabout waited a couple of minutes or so, looking up the alley as if make sure that he was not followed Then he dived quickly down the two steps ind entered the house. I had taken a dis like to the man from the first. There was

in e»il, wicked look in his face. There was treachery in his furtive glances, in the very stoop of his shoulders. Why had he come back alone? What further business had he with the bloke which he could not have done when Taras was with him? These questions aroused my faculties into un wonted energy. Once more I slipped round to the back of the house and up the balcony into the room behind the bar.

Drigo was talking to Putty, but in such a low key that I could make nothing of the sounds that reached me. I caught a glimpse of them through the crack of tindoor—their two villainous heads close together over the bar—and drew as near as I dared, yet still I could distinguish no words. "But what are you going to do with him then?" Putty asked, and his voice,'though low, was distinct enough—perhaps because I was more used to it. "I could not gather the reply but, raising his voice to give emphasis to the offer, I heard this clearly: "Ho offered .you £5^ I'll give you double,

1

and you run hetray us to tne police tr we don't pay up." "And a tenner won't pay me to be a haccessory to murder".

Diigo silenced him with a long "hist," and stepping sideways to cast a glance into the parlor he caught sight of me. He gave the alarm to Put ty in a hurried tone of terror, and the next moment a pewter pot flew at my head. I was quick enough to duck and avoid the missile, but I only escaped falling into the savage hands of the bloke by flinging myself over the balcony and falling into the mud below. "Don't let me get nigh you this sido of next month, you or I'll pull tho weazand out of you," he cried, shaking his fist down at me as I slunk off around a stranded barge. .......

CHAPTER II. A MYSTERY.

I lodged in Baxter's wharf. There was a hole in the side of tho wall, under the stairs, for ventilating the cellars, closed with an iron grating. One of tho bars was gone, and through the narrow opening I could just manage to squeeze—thanks to being a kipper. Once inside I had the whole run of the warehouse. It was quite empty, but on tho top floor some old sacking had been left, and this served me for a bed. It was dry and good enough for an outcast like me, who knew nothing of comfort and still less of luxury. I slept there that uight, and the next morning I was lucky enough to get work (sail mending) at a ship chandler's in Cable street, for which he gave mo my dinner and tea and paid me sevenpence halfpenny into tho bargain.

It was dark when I left there between 7 and'S, and feeling safe witji regard to Putty I hurried down to Ferryboat stairs as quickly as I could—running pnrt of the way. 1 was anxious to know what was going on at the Mariner's Joy. I had been thinking about it all day long—feeling a strange emotion within me such its I had never felt before, accompanied with a yearning to see Taras again—to get another kind look from him. I resolved if I could to tell him tf Drigo's second visit to the Joy and all 1 had overheard, that he might be warned against the treachery which it seemed pretty clear his companion intended.

Putty was lounging against tho doorpost of the front door of tho Joy, in Sweet Apple lane, under the Dickering light of the gas lamp at the corner of Ferryboat alley. lie had along clay pipe in his mouth, and 1 judged he was looking out for Taras and Drigo, who had not yet arrived. I waited in the shadow of an archway until he knocked the ashes out of his pipe and turned into the house, yawning aud scratching the back of his head. Then I slipped down the alley to the stairs.

There was no iignc to oe seen at tne oacR of tho house. The passage door was shut, and the rickety shutters of the bay window were closed also for the first time in my remembrance. Under the stairs I found a dry timber where I could sit secure from observation, and there I waited for Taras. He was not likely to come for five or six hours, having fixed the hour for the escape of his friends at 2, but I didn't mind that. It was a mild, still night. I had nothing else to do after dark but to thiuk, and 1 might just as well sit there and dream as anywhere else. I heard Putty put up the shutters about 11, and when I went up the alley an hour later I saw by tho glimmer of light through the dirty fanlight over the side door that he was still sitting up.

A little after the clock had struck 2 1 caught, sight of a boat coming across the river from the Rotherhitheside. As it drew in to the steps 1 made out one man at the oars and two men in the stern seat. Then my heart beat quicker, for I felt that Taras was there before I heard his voice. "We shan't want you any more tonight," he said as the boat ran ashore, "but you will be at the same place tomorrow at the same time." "I'll be there master, no fear. Good night, gentlemen." "Good night."

The boatman pushed off, while Taras aud Drigo groped their way up the dark and slippery steps over my head. I knew the other was Drigo by the sound of his harsh, guttural voice cursing as he stumbled.

As soon as I dared I slipped from my hiding place and ran up the stairs like a cat. When I reached the top, I saw their figures standing up sharp and black against the light farther up tho alley—Taras, square and erect Drigo, with his head buried in his shoulders. They stopped at the side door of the Joy and rapped lightly. The light from within fell upon Taras- fair beard as the door opened. A few words were interchanged iu a low tone, the door closed, and the two men went on, turning the corner under the gas lamp into Sweet Apple lane. I did not attempt to follow them, dreading to pass the door where Putty might still he standing, but stood there with a feeling like the

craving

for

food iu my breast until the impulse to overtake Taras and speak to hi in. even though Drigo were still with him, overcame my fear. Then 1 ran swiftly up the alley and along the lane, straining my eyes with mad desire t.o see him again.

Ihey were gone the lane ts empty. When 1 reached High street and stopped there, panting for breath, not a soul was to be seen to the right or left not a sound broke the dead silence. 1 gave up the pur suit in despair anil returned slowly in dejection. The light was out in the Joy when 1 passed. 1 crept into the cellar, felt my way through the storerooms tc my eor ner in the loft and lay down to sleep, corn Porting myself with the rellection that 1 diould certainly see Taras again the next light.

When I looked out in the morning, I saw Drigo aud Putty on the balcony, giving directions to a carpenter who was patching up the window shutters. When that job was done, the man put some screws in the bolt of the passage door, Drigo and Putty looking on all the while. Taras was not with them, nor did 1 see 'anything of him all day, though I only left the spot once to buy some food with the money I had earned -he day before, creeping under the stairs Mid behind the barge and so round by Johnson's yard iuto Sweet Appld lane tha* I might not be seen from the Joy. When the carpenter had done his work, they all went in by tho passage, bolting the door after, and 1 saw no more of them.

As soon as it wus dark I went to my hiding place under the stairs, but I wus less patient than I had been the night before, and I could not control my agitation as the time drew near for Taras to come again. My teeth chattered, my body and limbs trembled and shook with feverish excitement, yet I knew not why. As the clock struck 2 the police boat passed by. About five minutes later another boat came out of the murky distance and drew toward the stairs. As it pulled into tho stairs I counted five men packed in* the stern, and I knew by then umber that Taras had found his friends. My heart sank in bitter disappointment, for I had made up my mind to speak to him if hecamo alone with Drigo. Now, there was no pretext for speaking to him—he was not in danger. With his three friends he was more than a match for Drigo and Putty, supposing they had evil intentions toward him.

Tliey landed, and "having discharged the waterman groped their way up tho dark stairs to the landing above, where they stopped, talking together in & low voice and in their own tongue. Eventually Drigo left them and went up to the Joy to see that the road was clear. Meanwhile, mado reckless by my unsatisfied yearnings, I had left my place, and following them noiselessly up the steps stood now almost within arm's reach of Taras. I distinguished the profile of his face quite clearly against the faint light beyond as he turned to speak a few cheering words to oue of his friends— the bold, handsome outline of his aquiline nose, the curve of his mustache and his short, pointed beard. Almost I fancied I could see in his face the expression of happiness in having rescued his friends. I was envious of that kindly regard bestowed upon another, and drawing a step nearer, by an instinctive impulse, raised my hand and laid it timidly on his arm. The act was not intentional. 1 could not help doing it.

The movement wus seen by his companion, who started with a stifled cry of alarm, Taras, seeing me, spoko a few low words of remonstrance to his friend that seemed to say: "What aro you afraid of? It's only a poor, miserable waif." Then, recognizing me at a second glance, ho exclaimed softly iu English: "Ah, it is you!" "Yes, me—the kipper," I tried to say, but my voice was thick with feverish agitation and my words unintelligible. "You have covne to tell us that it is all right," ho said, adding, after he had given this explanation to his friends, "it's very good of you," and he nodded at me again with that kind smile that had wrought such a mysterious effect upon my nature.

Just then .Drii/D whistled aoftLv from the side door of the Joy, and Taras hurried his friends forward, leaving mo there with more happiness in my heart than I had felt in tho whole of my life.

I waited ou tho lauding until they had all filed into the Joy. Then I slipped past the closed door and ran across to the archway in. Sweet Apple lane opposite the house. I knew that thero was no accommodation for the party in the Joy, aud that as soon as the escaped men ha4 changed their clothcs they would come away. As there was no other way but through Sweet Apple lano they must pass me, and I should see Taras once more.

I had stood there not many minutes when 1 heard a glass crash iu the Joy, and the next moment thero was a deep thud as if some one had thrown himself against the door then thero followed a stifled cry, the shuflling of feet aud the sound of heavy blows. These sounds left me in no doubt as to what was going on in the bar of the Joy. In Shadwell one hears the noise of fighting every night. But I could hardly believe that Drigo and Putty were the attacking party. The latter I knew to be a coward and feeble as well, being sodden with drink. Taras, I felt sure, could defend himself against half a dozen such men as he, and timid as his friends might be it was not likely that they would stand aside and make no effort to aid him. 1 had no fenr for him, but rather a savage exultation in the belief that he would thrash his enemies and punish them according to their deserts. Is occurred to me that he had discovered Drigo's treachery and was now giving him a lesson not to be forgotten, and with a burning desire to hear him howling for mercy I ran across the road and put my ear to the door.

rnnnrvosK thr. rn:xt and jmf my car to Liu: tliior. The fight was over already. I could hear no sound save a faint whispering and occasionally the shulllingof feet, aud even these indications of movement within ceased after awhile, leading me to ttelieve that the whole party had retired into the room behind the bar. 1 could not make it out. There was no swearing, no altercation, nothing but silence. It was the strangest way of concluding a fight or a quarrel that I had ever heard. What did it mean* Had Taras killed Drigo by some terrible blow of that strong arm aud were they all silenced by the fear of alarming the police? That seemed to me the most plausible explanation.

I betook myself hurriedly to the dark archway a* I heard a grating of the lock in the side door of the Joy, aud almost immediately afterward I saw the three escaped friends of Taras come up from Kerryboat lane. 1 recognized all t! ri-e as they passed the archway. They walked in haste. I thought then that they might be in search of a doctor, but they never returned. After a time I ventured down the alley. There was no light to be seen through the fanlight of the side door, and all was silent as the night. I hung about the place in vague perplexity, unable to leave it, expeciing every miuute some further development ot the mystery.

At 7 o'clock, when it was broad daylight,the front door of the Mariner's Joy opened, and Putty c^me out and took down the shutters. HE had not a twratch ou his face. While he was thus engaged Drigo appeared, and he also showed no sign of having been in the fight. He spoke to Putty and then walked off along Sweet Apple lane. Putty went in anil reappeared, sweeping away the fragments of broken glass.Then for the first time a terrible fear that Taras hiul been killed in the fight took hold of me and shook me like an ague. But I did not know what to do. 1 was like one paralyzed—incapable of action. 1 never thought of going to the police. What use if Taras was dead? Besides, from the earliest days of my recollection, I bad regarded the police as my natural enemy—the enemy of all outcasts aud homeless wretches like me

""To'ins CONTINUED.

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