Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 7, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 March 1893 — In Sheep's Clothing. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

In Sheep's Clothing.

By Capl. Or mond Steele

CHAPTER Vll—Continued. They had gone but a few yards from ,the house, when a slender, well-clad' elderly man, with piercing gray eyes, touched his hat and motioned to them to stop. This man had a military bearing,. and was accompanied by a young black man, who carried a large double valise, slung over his shoulders like a pair of huge saddle bags. “Would you please to tell me where one Squire Condit resides?" asked the stranger, in well-bred tones, his keen eyes fixed the while on Balph’s face. The Captain pointed out the house, and said: “You can see the squire from here, working in his garden. ’’ “Many thanks; I see you are both officers in her Majesty’s service. Permit me to introduce myself as Col. Graham of Gen, Churchill's Staff.” The young officers gave their own names and shook hands with the Colonel, who, taking two steps in the direction of Squire Condit’s house, stopped, turned and asked: “Is the Wanderer in port?” “(. apt. Fox’s ship?” “Yes, Colonel.” “There she is,” said Capt. Denham, “and a finer ship never entered this bay. By the way, sir, if you are to make any stay at this end of the island, it will afford me pleasure to receive you on board of the Sea Hawk, a colonial cruiser, which I have the honor to command. ” Col. Graham raised his hat, said he would be honored and delighted to visit the Captain, and then resumed his journey, followed by the sturdy black man.

CHAPTER VIII. COL. GRAHAM VISITS GAPT. FOX. Squire Condit was out in his garden looking over his fine array of roses, now showing their rare colors through the bud tips, and filling the air with their first delicious odor, when he .saw the gray-haired, soldierly looking man upproaching, with his servant just behind him, as was the custom of gentlemen making a journey on foot or horseback in those days. Col. Graham and his servant had come to the place on horseback, and left their horses and all the burden of a pack animal, the big saddle-bags excepted, at the “King’s Arms,” the principal inn of the place. Squire Condit, seeing the stranger entering at the front gate, took off his hat and advanced to meet him. “Does Squire Goodwill Condit live here?” asked Colonel Graham, touching his hat, and letting his hand drop inthe direction of the cosy, rambling old house. “He does, sir,” replied the Squire. “Would you please tell me if he is home?” “He is home, Colonel Graham,” said the squire, his voice tremulous, for he recognized in the stranger the man who, twenty-one years before had brought a little boy to him, and, after giving him into Iris care, suddenly took his departure. “Ha! you recognize me then?” said the Colonel, extending his hand, a motion which the Squire could not have seen, for he made no effort to meet the salutation in like manner. “I do; your hair has become white, but your eyes and voice have not changed. Will you walk to the house and be seated for a bit?” said the Squire, loading the way, like a man who finds duty compelling hin) to a disagreeable task. “I have official business with Captain Fox, of the cruiser Wanderer, now in your harbor, and as my time is limited, I cannot make you a very long visit. Would you do me the favor of a few minutes’ private conversation? I hope to give you more time hereafter.” “Certainly,” replied the Squire, and motioning to the black man to remain seated on the wide porch, he led Colonel Graham to the apartment where he presided as magistrate when the differences of the settlers were submitted to his judgment. “Can we speak here without fear of being overheard?” asked Colonel Graham, glancing about him before taking the chair on which his white right hand rested. “We can, sir,” was the answer. Sitting down, with the air of a man much fatigued. Colonel Graham said: “You have often heard from me, but I presume you never expected to see me again?”

"I have heard from you, and I have at interest every dollar you ever sent to me for the care of the boy, whose name you told me was Balph Denham; but, as to expecting to see you again, I must confess I did not, for we do not voluntarily expect what we do not wish for. ” Without appearing to notice the bluntness of the Squire’s speech, Colonel Graham went on, and there was in his voice and manner something that told he was conscious of his own superiority, and could not permit himself to be annoyed by an inferior. “I do not come to trouble you now; I desire to compensate you further, if what I hav.) given is not enough. ” “ Stop, Colonel Graham; I will return all you have given, and the interest also, if you never show your face here again,” said the Squire, with much spirit. “I can assure you, Mr. Conait, it is her Majesty’s business and not my own inclination that brings me to America. Strangely enough, the arrival of the Wanderer, or rather her being ordered here, is the reason for my coming. My real object is to see Captain Fox and give him further instructions; but, being here, I felt prompted to call on you first, and learned how it fared with the boy I left in your hands twenty-one years ago. ” “And you have learned?” “I heard that he was now capta'n of the volunteer cruiser Sea Hawk, fitted out by the province of New York for the suppression of piracy.” “Ypu were rightly informed; there is not a more able or gallant officer on the ocean than Balph Denham, if I do say it. But do you propose to tell him all about the past?" “What have you told him?” “Nothing?” “Has he never inquired about his parents?” “Never; he seems to dread the subject. If there is anything that you can tell him to increase his happiness, do so; if not, keep away from him,” said the Squire, with mucn force. “I could tell him that that might make him miserable all his life, and if you do not aid me in a certain matter it will be necessary for me to do so,”

What is the certain matter?” asked the Squire, rising from his chair and confronting his visitor. “The certain something which you can do for me, and to save Ealph Denham from a knowledge that may embitter his life, I cannot explain now, but I shall do so before I take my departure,” said Colonel Graham. “Suit yourself about that. Will you answer me one question?” asked Squire Condit. “What is the question?” “Are you Ealph Denham’s father?” The Squire shot this out with a force that nearly upset Col. Graham, for he gasped, turned pale, and for the instant lost his self-control, the very power in which he lelt he was vastly the superior of the more natural man before him “Did I ever say or write aiight that would lead you to —to infer “ stammered the Colonel. “That is the mischief of it; you never said or wrote a word from which I could infer anything,” said the Squire, now master of the situation. “But you have just told me that Ealph cared to know nothing " “So I did, but I am not Ealph Denham; if I were, I might feel just as he does. One more question before you leave,” said the Squire, as C6l. Graham rose to take his departure. “What is it?" “Are the parents of Ealph Denham living?” “One of them is," replied Graham, now on his guard. “Which one?” “I am not at liberty to tell." “Why not?” “I cannot explain.” “Another question," said the Squire, coming between his visitor and the door. “Well?” “Again, are you Ealph Denham’s father?"

“I am not,” with another start. “Are you of his blood?” “N—no." *ls he legitimate?” asked the Squire, bringing down his arm, as if to imply that this was his lact question. “What matters that to you; why should you wish to know?” “For one good reason—the happiness of Ealph may depend on his being of legitimate birth.” “Be good enough to oxplain.” “Ealph Denham loves a beautiful girl, she is of good family, and I feel that if the cloud wore lifted from his antecedents, so far as m show that ho came of honest parents, that his suit would not be rejected." “Is the young lady your daughter, Squire Condit?” asked Col. Graham, with a smile, that had in it something satanic. “I cannot answer that till you havß answered me.” “Then you will never answer, nor shall I suffer anxiety for tho lack of knowing who Ealph Denham’s ladylove is.” Col. Graham took another stride in the direction of the door, and came to a sudden stop. Without looking at the Squire, he continued: “You are a man of sense, and so I need not impress on yqu the importance of keeping our conversation to yourself. If you have Ealph Denham’s happiness at heart, you will not tell him why I called. We shall meet again, and very soon. ” With a frigid bow. Colonel Graham left the room, and, addressing tho negro as “Othello,” bade him follow him Othello threw his burden across his shoulders, with an ease that showed wonderful strength, and followed, with the long, swinging stride that manifested endurance equal to his strength. When Colonel Graham reached the town of Sag Harbor, an hour or two before his appearanoe at Squire Condit’s, he dispatched a messenger to Captain Fox. asking him to send a boat for him. This boat, under the command of Lieutenant Frenauld, was now waiting on the beach. In a minute more, the Colonel and his servant would have been on board, and on their way to the ship, but an incident that astonished the Colonel prevented his progress for some time. Old Dinah, who had been talking, in her disjointed way, to Ellen Condit and Lea Hedges, left the group, with the intention of going to her home, some miles away. ■ She caught sight of Colonel Graham approaching, and she came to a sudden halt, raised her lean, black hands, and shouted:

“Lod Pallton! Lod Paliton, or de dead! Where hev you come from, wanderin’ back en foth ” “Hist, Dinah!” said Colonel Graham, rushing toward the old woman, and speaking in a whisper, indicative of alarm. “Do not speak now; do not know me yet awhile, and you shall have gold ” “Blood-red gold! b’.ood-red gold. But who’s dis? Who am de black boy? She ran at Othello, and took off his cap revealing a circular scar on his forehead. “Hello! hello! de son of my darter!” The old woman caught the young black man in her arms, and kissed him, and oried and laughed alternately, while he, still supporting his burden, asked in a perplexed way: “Is you my granny ez ran away from Bermuda nigh outer twenty yeah agone, and all said was drownded?” “Ize yer granny, ’Thello. Har lis in de flesh, or wat’s left of me. I’m the mudder of yer mudder. But tell me, is you de sarvint of dat man?” she asked, pointing a skinny, black finger at the perplexed Colonel, who was now biting his gray mustache, and looking anxiously from Dinah to the waiting boat. “Ye-yas, he bought me foh foive ’unerd,” replied Othello, his face showing that the unexpected discovery of his grandmother did not afford him any great amonnt of pleasure. “En —en yer both a-gwine to dat ship?” said Dinah, pointing to the Wanderer. “Ye-yas,"responded the still astounded servant. Coming close to Colonel Graham, the old woman whispered: “You’ve got to see me soon agin.” “But where do you live?” asked the Colonel, glad to see his way to getting rid of the crone. “’Mong the Montauks. Ha, ha, ha! I yvas a black woman in Bermooda; hea' Ize a Hinjin priestess-ess.” “I’ll see you again, ’’said the Colonel, motioning for his servant to follow him. “You’ve got to see me agin. Ye’ll be ’bleedged to see me. Now go to see Cap’n AVolf. Good-bye, ’Thello, come en see yer granny, honey. ” Chuckling to herself, as if she thought she had said something humorous, Dinah grasped her stafT aDd hobbled away in the direction of the land of the Montauks. Colonel Graham and Othello hastened on board the boat, where Frenauld, who was in charge, saluted the former with a deference that amounted to obsequiousness. “Tho Captain is anxiously awaiting you,” said Frenauld, as the" oarsmen pulled for the ship. “You have been here eight day’s,”said

the Colonel, as if he were quite indifferent to the reply. “Nine days, my lord ” “You mistake, sir,” said the other In a stern whisper. “I am Colonel Graham." “Beg your pardon, sir; I forgot for the instant,” stammered Frenauld. “Such forgetfulness proves the ruin of many men, ” responded the Colonel, the line between h s eyes deepening, as if Frenauld’s apology had' increased rather than lessened his displeasure. , “It is hard,' sir, for one accustomed to calling another the name by whioh the world knows him, to change to a different name at the order of the individual, and to be censured for a slip of the tongue,” said Frenauld, evidently but little pleased by the Colonel’s manner. “I iully appreciate what you fay,” replied the Co.onel, condescendingly, but still with that -manner of ostentations superiority whioh marked everything, he said or did. “But Graham is my family name, and I hold the commission of colonel in her Majesty's service. You know the rest, and, as I pay you to use this knowledge for my benefit, it holds, sir, that I should not he annoyed at any breach of the contract on your part, or on that of your supperior officer.” This was said in a low lone, but the noise of the oars iu the clumsy rowlocks in use at that time would have prevented the sailors from overhearing, had they been so inclined. |TO BE CONTINUED, |