Democratic Sentinel, Volume 14, Number 34, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 September 1890 — BERENICE ST. CYR. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

BERENICE ST. CYR.

A Story of Love, Intrigue, and Crime.

BY DWIGHT BALDWIN.

CHAPTER I. LOVE AND PERIL.

Fire!” |[~j ** In startled, terrified ferl tones, the ominous , II | wor’s rang out. < I I “Firel Fire!” Scores, hundreds, of voices caught up and Jrz/i. \ repeated the dreadful |Faja\\ warning, until the vast f. | pome of the great Ex- ~ ; i jposition building a t /Chicago echoed them back, as if in scornful lAjy mockery. ~ A police officer, whose watchful eye had detected a slight /\\ blaze in one of the

magnificent booths, caused ly a spark from the electric lamp, had raised the first cry. Its repetition was the work of the throng of visitors, which, notwithstanding the circumstance that the evening was far advanced, still lingered in the •enticing place. The incipient blaze, fed by laces from far-famed Valenciennes and rich Gobelin tapestries, became almost instantly a mass of seething flame. With fearful rapidity the fire-fiend extended his domain, his voracious appetite increasing as his huge red mouth licked up costly fabr cs and destroyed fittings, until, to the practiced eyes of cool-headed men who had witnessed the great confl it ration wh ch had one time destroyed the Garden City, the enormous structure in which the last of a long series of annual exhibits was being held, appeared doomed to speedy and complete destruction. Confusion reigned supreme; children screamed, women fainted, and men ran wild’y about, seeking an ejre-s, and breaking windows to facilitate their escape from a seeming frightful doom. But high up above the panic, flame and smoke, above the arched roof, above all «ave the clear vaulted heavens, stood three persons who seemed in imminent danger of meeting an awful death. By means of the elevator that pierces the roof of the monster bui.ding they had gained a high position, from which vantage ground the btautiful lake, gleaming beneath the beams of the full effulgent harvest-moon, like a mass of molten silver stretched out before their eyes. “We are lost, father,” and a young lady, in whose form and face nature seemed to have blended in rich profusion her rarest charms, as she clung convulsively to the arm of a gray-haired, rather feeble-look-ing old man. “Lost! No’ no! Berenice!" shouted he. "“The elevator " “Is deserted! The flames surround the shaft. We are left to die here alone ” The old man looked downward and gave utterance to a cry of despair as tne glance verified the words of his daughter. “This way!” shouted he a moment later, and dashed over the railing towards a flight of stairs which descended from the tower to the loof proper. There the old man paused that his daughter might precede him. When well-n’gh down, her dress caught upon a projecting corner, and, with a cry of terror, she fell forward. With a spasm of horror which rendered him incapable alike of speech or motion, the old man saw his daughter sliding down the arched metal loof of the building. Her infancy, prattling childhood, youth, and budding womanhood parsed like a lightning-painted panorama before his eyes, ami he c!o ed them to shut out the seemingly inevitable fate of her he loved next to idolatry. • At that instant a form rushed past him. It was that of a young man who, like his daughter and'himself. had been gaz-, ing upon the beauties of the moonlit lake. "Save her!” pleaded the fond old father, hope restoring hi« power of speech.* Without a word, a look, the young man projected himself forward anddownward toward the place where Berenice was clinging to a small ornamental cupola. She saw him, an I with renewed courage tightened her grasp. But her fingers twitched convulsively, and her face, w hite as the moonlight in ■which it was bathed, told plainer than words that her strength was almost gone. The old man uttered a groan of agony, for to his excite 1 mind her heroic wouldbe rescuer could but join her in a frightful death upon the pavement, far beneath. With rapidly accelerating speed the youth sped downward. With a dexterity which bespoke both agility of muscle and coolness of brain, he caught the small cupola and came to a stop. At the same instant the slender jeweled hand relaxed, and the form of the now unconscious girl began moving onward toward certain death. But fair Berenice St, Cyr had iu store a fate other than destruction; clouds, darkuess, and teors were soon to gather like' the mockery of an aureole around her sunshiny head, yet death was not to be her portion. The young man noted her deadly peril, and seized her wrist. Then, with an almost superhuman effort, in which everv nerve and muscle play&d its part, he drew her upward to a point of temporary •safety. In the meantime, the fire engine and hook-and-ladd*er company, which are housed at the north end of the long building, had arrived and made short work of the fire, but not until the devouring element had wrought damage to 'ths extent of scores of thousands of dollars. Shouts from the throng, which in the briefest possible time had grown to thou-ands, now attracted the attention of the gallant firemen to the imperiled twain above. Ladders, to. whose length there seemed no limit, rose as if through the Dower of magic, and a rescuing party -soon reached the roc '

- But not even to the powerful arufs of the skilled und intrepid “fire laddies” djd the joung man consign his precious burden. Instead, he bore her away himself, and, amid the enthusiastic plaudits of the va«t omwd which tilled Michigan avenue, carried her s»fely down the tall ladder. “God bless you!” cried Mr. St. Cyr, in fervent tones, as ho joined our hero a moment later. “You hive saved my child, my all. This way, John. ” In response to the direction, a handsome carriage was driven through the curious, pressing people, to the curbstone. “Lift her in, please," continued the old gentleman, as he snuug open the door. The other complied, and a moment later, clear of the crowd, the tr.o so strangely united in one party, were being whirled rapidly away to the southward. Before an elegant mans on in Calumet avenue the vehicle came to a stop. But little had been said during the short drive. Fnl’y restored to consciousness, but nervous froip her recent shock and peril, Berenice had lain in the arms of her trembling but joyous parent. “Come,” said the latter, as he led the wav toward the broad threshold. “Please excuse me," returned the young man. lifting his hat. “The lady is happily restored, I can do " “Nothing!” interrupted Mr. St. Cyr; “but you can give us an opportunity to express onr thanks for the inestimable service you have rendeied us. Come!" Ou the point of rereating his declination, our hero turned his eyes upon the fair girl whose life he had so recently saved at the peril of his own. A strange thrill pervaded his frame as his glauce rested opon her face, halt shy, pleading, but wholly beautiful, and fascinating beyond all he had been fated to look upon. A momentary glance into the dark tube of a camera obscura, and one’s features, to the smallest detail, are fixed for all time. The convex glasses of the photographer, are not truer or clearer than the thoughts and purposes of a right-minded young man, nnd the delicate chemical plate no more sensitive to impressions than is the sympathetic, grateful heart of u girl. What marvel, then, that one exchange of gl nces g tve a new direction to the impulses of loth? The young man bowed, and followed his fair though silent persuader up the marble steps. CHAPTER 11. AN AWFUL AWAKENING. “This is our home,” sud Mr. St. Cyr. is with a hospitable wave of the hand I e ushered his guest into the drawing-room. And such a home’ The young man had expected to see elegance, but the richness of the scene quite aston stud him, and bespoke a wealth with which he had never before been brought in contact. “Let us go to the library, father,” suggested Berenice. “It’s far cozier there.” Straws are said to show from which direction the wind is blowing, and the alacrity with which the father acquiesced was sufficient to convince the young man that the daughter was the ruler of the mansion. Assuming the office of guide, the beautiful girl led the way through a number of large apartments luxur.antlv furnished, nnd glowing with the richest hues of art, to the apartment she had suggested. It was indeed a cozy place. Two sides of the room were covered with books, and on the third an open fira burned brightly. “This is father's den,” announced Berenice, as she pointed to a revolving desk nnd a steel safe, which stood beside it. “I can’t make him •.ive up business.” “Now, daughter,” s.id the old gentleman reproachfully. “At least not qu te," corrected she. "You shall decide the matter, Mr. " “Winters,” spoke up the young man as the other paused; “Cole Winters. I should have mentioned my name before.” “No, you shouldn't,” declared pretty Berenice. “The fault was ours—we never gave iou a chance.” “It’s not yet too late to be polite,” said the host, smiling. “Be seated, plea e, and favor us with a more complete introduction. Mr. Winters." “I can add but litt'e to what I have said,” remarked the young man, as he accepted the proffered easy-chair. “My life has beenuneventful. I have nothing besides my name.” “A name—that is, a good name—is a fortune in itself," said the old man, encouragingly. ” “I was bom in Central Illinois, and am just twen y-two,” Cole went on. “My parents both died wnen I was quite joung, leaving me some litile property as an inheritance. All of this w»b expended on my education. About three mot ths ago I completed my college course, and Cimeto Chicago to seek an opening in life.” “And have been successful?" queried Mr. St. Cyr. “On the contrary, I have failed at every turn. I had contemplated following the law, and sought a place in the office of an attorney. This I could have readily secured, but no one would pay me any salary with which to support myself. Then I sought a mercantile position, but whs unable to secure one, as I had ha 1 no experience as a clerk. After this I aspired to no particular line, but sought anv kind of honorable employment.” “And failed at all points?” ‘’Something worse. A private banker hired me for aye tr. I grew suspicious of him and his methods; and discovering him to be engaged iu a dishonorable business, quitted h m after working a month, for which I received no compensation." “And besides losing your salary you have made an enemv?” “Exactly." “What is his name?” “Max Morris.” “Ha!” ejaculated Mr. St. Cyr. "The friend and former partner of Almon Sears!” “The same. I’ve often seen Mr. Sears in his private office. ” “This Almon Sears is the son of an old and valued friend, who died years ago, leaving him penniless. I loved him for his father, gave him every educational advantage, started him iu business, and, had he proved in all respects worthy, I had even designed " The speaker paused as he caught a glimpse of his daughter’s pale face. “He contemplated marrying him to his , liughtsr," was Cole’s ment 1 comment. “Enough of him!” said the old man, with a slight show of petulance. “Pardon the interruption.” “I have uo more to tell. My stock of money being exhausted, I supported myself by doing copying at a beggarly price. To-night I visited the Exposition, in the hope of securing a place. Falling in that, I ascended to the observatory, where I had the good fortune to be of some small service. ” “A service which nothing can repay!” cried the old m>n with a tond look at his rescued child. “I like you, Mr. Winters—like your honest face and the integrity of your heart and mind, as revealed in your frank, open story.” “You flatter me, sir,” faltered Cole, his embarrassment heightened by the look of

plea. «re beaming ee Berenice’s admirini face. “Not a particle. You have told your story; let me rec procate in kind, Fo? ha'f my life I have been an active business man of Chicago. This is my daughter's eighteenth birthday. Some time ago I promised her that when this day came I would abandon nil business and devote the remaining years of my widowed life to her, my only child. “This I have onl. been able to accomplish in part. I have withdrawn from two Arms in which I whs interested, and the proceeds. srSOJ.OOO in bonds, are now in that safe.” Ihe enormous snm mentioned, together with its unexpec ed prox.mity io him, caused Cole Winters a sudden start of surpr se. In this action he was not alone. The curious glance he cast at the cube of polished steel, which held secure behind its bo ts and bars and massive locks more than a king’s ransom, was duplicated bv a pair of dark sinister eyes which gleamed at the lower part of one of the windows behind the backs of the interested trio. “I have fully twice as much more safely invested in ;ood paying real estate," Mr. St. Cyr went on. “These bonds driw onlr a very low rate of interest, and I am desirous of changing them to bouses and other rentable property. This, my contract w th my daughter, prevents me from attending to in person.” “I’m glad you remember your obligations, father," smiled Berenice. “In a week we are to ’eave for New York, from where we will soon sail for a tour of Europe. I hive as yet no agent to reinvest my money and care for my property during my absence. You seek employment. I will pay you $3,000 a year. Is it a bargain?" “My dear sir—what can I say? I have had uo experience ” “Experience an honest man can easily acquire, while experienced men seldom turn honest. You are bright, energetic, sincere.. Is it a bargain?” Besides the father and daughter, ths person at ths window the response. “If you think me competent, sir, I will not otherwise disappoint you ” “Enough!” cried Mr. St. Cyr, extending his hand. “We will settle the details to-morrow. In tho meantime accept and promi e to wear this as a memento of this day. It belonged to my only son, long since deceased.” Thi speaker removed and handed our hero a curiously wrought old-fashioned ring, richly set with diamonds i-nd rubies. “What is it, sir?” asked a servant who had entered the apartment in response to »n electrical bell which his master had touched. “Some refreshments, John. Serve them here, and ns quickly a-i possible.” The man looked curiously at the ring which Cole was in the act of placing upon his finger, and withdrew. Half an hour later the little company separated for the night. a Master must think a power of that young man to give him that ring,” mused John, as he went sleepily down the stairs i-fter having shown Cole Winters to the most sumptuous guest-chamber in the whole mansion. It was long before sleep visited the eyelids of our heroine, whose happy, innocent heart kept beating time to a new and glorious measure—first love. When, »t last, slumber locked fast her outer senses, the new-lorn sentiment controlled her half formed thoughts, anrt dreams of Cole Winters floated through her brain. Again she heard the startling cry of fire, and with fast failing strength saw our hero—her hero, as well—risking his life to snve her. “He'p! Help! Murder!” From a vision at once awful and fascinating. she was awakened by these dreadful words. They proceeded, as she thought, from the library, where she had so recently spent one of the pleasantest hours of her brief life. In an instant; almost, she was there. Day had broken, and objects were distinctly visible. The outcry had emanated from the servant. John Kedzie. wbo stood in the doorway, a look of horror depicted on his face. Bushing past him, Berenice saw chairs overturned, the safe open, and papers scattered about. she gasped. “Worse!” said John Kedzie, in a hoarse whisper. She followed with her eyes the direction indicated by his trembling finger, and saw a sight that fairly froze her young blood, and deprived her of the use of her faculties. Before her upon the floor, a frightful wound in his throat, lay the lifeless body of her beloved father, Paul St. Cyr. [TO BE CONTINUED.]