Democratic Sentinel, Volume 14, Number 39, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 October 1890 — BERENICE ST. CYR. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

BERENICE ST. CYR.

A Story l of Love, Intrigue, and Grime.

BY DWIGHT BALDWIN.

CHAPTER XII. IN A NEW BOLE.

HE two officers i did not st once in- * vade the cellar bnt waited for the arrival of reinforcements, which came soon in the form of half a score of excited policemen. From tLeir conversation Cole gathered that the I detective's statement to the vilI liana, that the '.house wa* surrounded by officers, had boen uttered with a view of malting terms for himself, and had no foundation

411 fict. The two who had arrived first on the scene had been passing the house and heard the shot which laid Hyland low. As for the latter, he was found to be alive, but unconscious. His brother officers, who, from the nature of their c 11ing, had had a good opportunity to observe gun-shot wounds and their final results, were of one mind, and that was that his wound would prove fatal. He was at once sent to the hospital in a patrol wagon. In the meantime a sqnad of men, armed to the teeth, had entered the cellar, and the one who had fired upon Cole Winters now returned. ‘"Didn’t you find him?" asked the sergeant in charge, who had been superintending the removal of poor Hayland. “They’ve escaped,” replied the officer. “Then there were two?” “At least.” “How do you know that?” ‘We found this hat in the cellar.” . The officer held up the hat that had been worn by Bloom. “How does that prove there were two?” “The man I shot at was bareheaded, and, besides, this hat is much too large for him.” “How did they escape?” “By wav of a tunnel th< t’s been dug through the ground to the vacant builuing on the comer." “Why didn’t you follow them?” “The rest are on the trail, and will catch’em sure. I came back to report. ” "Hal What is this?” The sergeant had observed the gold watch with its old-fashioned chain and seals, which lay upon the table. “Some of the plunder they were dividing when Hyland came in on them, I suppose.” “What? Here's the name of Paul St. Cyr!”

“And the fellow I shot at was his murderer, Cole Winters! He tallied exactly with the description!” “Good! This will complete the proof of his guilt. Make haste, Gogin. Run to the nearest box and telephone to the Central Station. We’ll have him before morning!” Gog n rushed away, and the sergeant soon followed him. For the moment the place was deserted. The hiding-place of our hero was anything but secure. That he had not been already discovered was due to the fact that everybody had been looking for him below, where he was supposed to have made his escape. Soon, however, the house would swurm with officers, a minute search of the premises would be male, and the hiding place of our hero quickly discovred. None think more rapidly than those exposed to great and unusual periL The door of the house had not closed behind the sergeant, who had gone to see that the place was being properly guarded without, before Cole Winter-i had thought of all this, and determined upon a plan of action.

In an instant he had emerged from the cubby-hole that had servde him so good a turn, and lowered himself to the landing, from which he stepped into the now deterted room. He had l arelv done this when he hea:d a voice in the cellar. “ Some of them are returning through the p<ssage," decided he. Then he closed the door and turned the key in the lock, which was still ini act. Another moment and he was on his knees before the large dressing-case. As he opened one es the unwers an exclamation of satisfaction swept his lips. His expectations had been fulfilled to the utmost. He had expected to find clothing with which to disguise himself. Instead of loose gsrments, which was the most he had hoped for, he saw before him three bundles, neatly tied up in yellow wrapping paper. Upon each was pinned a card. One bore the legend “Tramp;” another," Plas*terer, Dark;” and the thiid, “Young Gent. Blonde." It was evident, at a glance, that they were sets of disguises to be used by Sears, as be required them in the regular course of his nefarious business, or as sudden exigencies might demand. Without a moment’s hesitation, Cole selected the last one described. By this time the man in the cellar was beating npon the door and hallooing lustily. Cole waited only long enough to close the door, then, with the bundle under his arm he .darted from the room. , , As he gained the top of the uncarpeted stairs, be he»rd the front door below open, and some one, the sergent he concluded, entering the hall.

As noiselessly as possible be pajeei on. groping his way. Then he struck s match to get an idea of his surround ngs. The snapping sound alarmed him, but a moment’s reflection convinced him that there was no danger of its being heard below. He saw before him a small side bedroom which he at once entered. Unlike the other rooms he had noticed, it was furnished to the extent of a small bed and a wash-stand. ‘Here is whera Bloom sleeps,” thought he. The room had but one window, and that was obscuied by closely drawn inside blinds. Our observing hero noted all these things by the last flickerings of the expiring match. Then he closed the door, locked it, and proceeded to light the gas. That done, he tore open the handle. He found it to contain a suit, complete from hat to shoes. Sears was of about his size, and the clothing would fit him nicely. The principal thing, however, was a blonde wig and a false mustache, each of the finest workmanship, well calculated to deceive, unless, indeed, a close scrutiny was made. Cole carried an nnusually sharp pocketknife, and with this he cut oil' his mustache, the operation taking hut a moment. Then he adjusted the blonde substitute. His own glossy hair was quite closely cropped, so that the wig fitted him exceedingly well. When he had lightened his face with the contents of a box of cosmetics, he found from the glass that he had undergone a metamorphosis so complete that his detection seemed impossible. Suddenly a difficulty occnired to him. What would be do with the bond and set of jewelry which still remained in his pocket where the dastardly villain had placed them? If he left them in his clothing, they would furnish damning exidence against him if he was ever msde a prisoner, which was by no means a remote contingency. On the other hund, to take them with him seemed still more hazardous. As he stood irresolute, debating the point in his mind, the problem was solved for him. The noise and trampling of feet below had been increasing for some minutes. In his busy excitement our hero had not noticed this, but now he heard the sound of footsteps ascending the stairs. There was but one thing to do. Cole glided forward an 1 unlocked the door. Then he threw back the bed-clothes, made an incision in the mattress with his knife, and began groping with his hand among the hair wi.h which it was filled. “Hello!” called a voice from the door, which was just then thrown open with considerable violence. “Hello yourself!” responded Cole, as he turned and saw an officer in uniform, and a young man with a note-book in his hind. Then he turned and coolly continued his feigned search. “What are you doin’ here?" gtowled the officer in a tone of suspicion. "I’m working to get the best reports for my paper, ” responded Cole. “Well, I’ll be blowed! You reporters bang the Jews! I thought this one had cheek to beg me to let him come np here, but hang me if you haven t pre-empted the premises without saying by your leave. How did you come here? “I was down this way on an assignment, heard of the row, and walked in. ” “What have you found?” asked the man with the note-hook very eagerly. “Will you trade points?” “Of course." , “Well, one of them must have left here in a hurry. ” “How so?” “There’s some of his clothes. ”

Cole pointed to the floor where he had thrown his discarded garments, upon which the officer and reporter immediately pounced. “Must have took ’em off to put on a disguise,” (.aid the former. “Ha! what have we here?” He had drawn forth the set of jewelry so racentlv presented to our fair heroine by her now lifeless father. “The St. Gyr necklace and brooch!" almost gasped the repoiter. “But look at this!” “It’s one of the stolen bonds,” cried the officer, as he snatched the object fiom the other’s hand. The pencil of the reporter fairly flew. To his joy, our hero found a small block of paper and a pencil in one of the pockets of his coat, and was soon imitating his example. In the meantime several others had entered, and Cole drew the “knight of the pencil” aside. He asked him a few questions, and made a pretense of writing down ths information obtained. “What are you going to do?" asked the reporter, as t ole thrust the block of paper into his pocket. “I intend to write up and turn in what I’ve got." “But there’ll be lots more.” “Perhaps; but I want to be the first to briflg in copy. It will be a scoop on the other bo>B. See?” Cole Winters had done a little reportorial work for a paper in the town where he had been at college, and was conversant with the terms used by the craft. “What paper are you on?” asked the other. “I’m doing hock writing at present. The paper that pays the best will get my reports. That’s why I’m in a hurry to write it up. It’ll stan 1 two columns, I reckon?" “I should hop* so. I intend to make three of it, at least. ” “You reporters, and everybody not connected with the force must leave the premises," announced the sergeant, in stentorian tones. “I don’t s.-e how you managed to get in, anyway, ”he added, petul >ntly. This was our hero’s opportunity, and a moment later he was in the street, a free man. CHAPTER XIII. REPORTING HIS OWN CASE. For some minutes Cole Winters walked aimlessly along. He knew not where to go, and was incapable of formula; ing a plan of act on. His first idea had been to repair to the St. Cyr residence in Calumet avenue, and learn if Berenice had returned home. But he abandoned this plan before it was fully formed. In all probability it would lead to his detection and arrest, and besides he felt satisfied that she was still in the power of his enemies. “I will effect her rescue,” decided he as he hurried along. Suddenly the ringing of a tell and a loud cry attracted his attention. Cole looked quickly, saw a flaming light bearing down uron him and leaped nimbly forward, just in time to nvoid a cable grip-car in the path of whicn he had heedlessly stepped. “Wan’tto get run down?" snarled the driver, as he brought the train to a stop. Small occurrences oftentimes exert a great influence on onr immediate aotions, and change cad control our entire after

This incident an*?hi* fortunate escape from what might have been a serious it not fatal catastrophe decided our hero, and he at once boarded the rear car. Having paid his fare, he took ont the block of paper with the few memotanda he had made. Then, actuated by a sudden impulse, he feegan writing an account of the recent occurrences of the evening. Cole was quick with a pencil, and by the time the train had reached the portion of the city generally called “down town," had his'article well under way. Alighting from the car he hastened to one of the large newspaper buildings, with the location of which he wt. familiar, and was soon toding up the stairs to the editorial rooms. “I’ve got an item of a sensational character,” said he when he had gained aceess to the city editor. “What about?" “The bt. Cyr murder and robberv.” And in a few words Cole gave him an outline of such of the facts as could have been learned by the most diligent inquiry on the part of a reporter. “What do you want?" queried the editor. “To write it up and sell it to you." “All right. I’ll take it, provided I find that it’s not a fake. You'll find a plaoe to write in the next room.” Under this condit on 1 order Cole took a seat and applied himself to his task. Just as he had completed it a reporter bustled in with a meager report of the tragio and sensational events of the night. A moment later our hero was called in and the report he had written quiokly b ut critically read by the editor. “Capital!" cried he. “Haven’t had any better work handed in here in a mouth. There’s an order for ten dollars. You can get it cashed in the morning.” “Thank you.” “Are you working regularly?” “No, sir,” “Want a position?” “Nothing would p ease me better.” “What’s your name?” “Milton Moore.” This combination of the names of two great poets was the first that occurred to our hero, and he announced it without the least sigu of hesitation. “I've not had very much experience,” said he. “Don’t say that or 11l think you laok the confidence—cheek, some people call it—to do good work. You're all right. I’m a judge of thpse things and know. I’ll employ you, and I want you to work exclusively on the St. Cyr case. I’ve had several men on it, but they haven’t done much. It promises to be a celebrated case. I look for lots of developments, and want the first and best reports of everything. ’’ “I’ll do my best." “There’s one of our stars. Pin it on your vest; it will serve as a voucher for you. And here’s a oard that will, under ordinary circumstances, protect you from arrest should you, in the discharge of your duty, fall under the suspicion of the police. Have you money?’’ “Very little. 15 The editor produced a roll of hills and handed his new reporter two ten-dollar notes. “You’ve got the right stuff in you,” said he, encouragingly, “and will get to the bottom es this case quicker thau the deteotives. Don’t spare expense, work hard, and report as you are able. If you get into trouble, remember that the most enterprising paper in the West is back of you. Do your duty, Moore, and I’ll see that you are well rewarded." Cole thanked the editor, and turned from the office. He wondered at his rare stood fortune, and why he, a straeger, had been given employment and an assignment of such great importance. Ho did not then know that the editors of great newspapers, these who control the collection of news of the day, are very astute men, well able to judge of the character and ability of others. He had, both by the account he had handed in and his general demeanor, made a most favorable impression, and was scarcely more elated than was the man who had jnst handed him the badge of his position. “I’m in luck,” murmured he, as be hastily descended the stairs. “I have Vouchers that will permit me to go atmo-t any p’ace I please, and protect me when there. I’ll work faithfully for this paper, and at the same time secure evidence that will clear me of the awful charge now so confidently laid upon me. At present I must look for Berenice. Her peril is now much greater than miue." He had traversed hut two blocks, when a street car, bound for the North Division of the oity, and propelled by a cable, passed him. It was almost empty, but on one of the seats in the open compartment near which the gripman, or driver, stands to control, by levers, the movements of the car, a gentleman was seated smoking a cigar. “I’ll bo on the North Side myself," decided the reporter, as he boar .ied the rear platform of the moving car. He had recognized the smoker as the arch-conspirator in the murderous plot for tbe possession of the St. Cyr fortune, Almon Sears. [TO BE CONTINUED. I