Democratic Sentinel, Volume 20, Number 13, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 April 1896 — TUMBLE-DOWN FARM ALAN-MUIR [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

TUMBLE-DOWN FARM ALAN-MUIR

CHAPTER XII. The summer day was drawing to a delightful close when Willie with reluctant feet made his way to the spot where he and Vanity had so often met. At the sight of him Vanity bounded forward, a look of delight crossed her face like one of those sudden sweeps of sunlight you see floating over a landscape when clouds fly fast in a bright sky. Willie drew coldly back. Vanity, whose whole nature was quickened into the utmost sensitiveness, turned as pale as death. “Something has happened,” she gasped, “something wrong—something dreadful! Tell me what it is!”In her pallor and overpowering agitation Willie read guilt. That momeniary warmth of feeling which her sweetness and surpassing beauty r.ad aroused in his heart died out like ineffectual fire. “You are not far astray,” he said, in a caustic way; “something wrong has happened. By the way,”—this was said with marked significance—“am I to address you As Miss Hardware or not?” Vanity responded to the sting of the question as sharply as her accuser could have hoped; she shot a look of undisguised alarm at him, and grew paler than before.

“I see,” continued Willie, “Hardware is not your name. What it may be is now no particular concern of mine. You must have known that under your circumstances, whatever the particulars may be, the very notion of marriage with nifc was wicked.” “Love me still, Willie,” she said, sobbing. “Don’t give me up. It will be death to me if you give me up.” “Let us now part,” he said, wishing to end the scene. “Part!” exclaimed Vanity. She uttered the word in a half scream. “I cannot marry a woman with a secret which she will not or cannot explain.” Willie spoke this with perfect dignity. “Is this generous?” cried Vanity; “is it just? Did you not press me to marry you—did you not press me again and again in the face of my own warnings on this very matter? Did I not tell you of shame and disgrace hanging over me? You persisted in your course until you won my love. Now you cast me off for the misfortunes you knew before—casting me off to die broken-hearted—for I shall die if you leave me.” “What you say is true,” he answered; “I did pervist in loving you in spite of your warning, but I had no idea then of the obstacle that lies in your way. I believed it to be something embarrassing, not disat least I—l meant not—not •o dishonorable as—as ” * ‘‘ As what?” Vanity asked; “what have you discovered?” “You know your own secret; don’t ask me to describe it.” £ £What can you know?” cried Vanity, with symptoms of alarmed curiosity. “My secret—my real secret—you cannot possibly know.” - The WonJs were ill-chosen. Willie detected defiance or audacity in what she said, and grew irritated. “Your secret is ( ” said he, pointing as be spoke in the direction of the farm, “that your father is not your only, companion in that house. A man comes there by night. You sit alone with him. You sing together. You kiss him. And you promised your love to me! Who is that man? He is your secret —your disgrace—your tormentor, I daresay; and you were going to escape from him and bestow the treasure of your love on me, and we were to fly to a foreign country that we might not be pursued by—this man.”

Vanity stood like a statue listening to him, but as he proceeded surprise, not unmixed with relief, took the place of grief and fear in her face. “You have discovered my secret, Willie, she said. “But you don’t understand it. I know how all this reached your ears. That wretched tipsy fellow who watched us through the window told you. But I assure you solemnly that all the suspicions you have founded on it are imaginary. Remember the promise I asked you to give me—that in spite of all appearances of evil you would trust me. Trust me as you promised to trust me Your reward shall be the devotion of my life. But don t cast me off because you suspect me of deceit and selfishness.” “Then explain who your friend is. Tell me his name—tell me his relations with yourself—say how he can be so intimate with you, if you are free—and blameless.” “All that,” replied Vanity slowly, “is my secret” “And you will not disclose it?” “I cannot; I am bound.” “Then we part; we part forever.” Vanity looked at him as a wounded deer might look at a huntsman, her eyes big with an agony she had no speech to explain. “You will not trust me?” she said. “I will not!” cried Willie furiously. “I shall never speak to you again, I will see your face no more.” Without another word he turned away and left her, but stole a backward glance Just as he was leaving the field. She put out her arms imploringly, beseeching him in this silent way to return to her. He answered by a cold shake of the head, and then vanished out of her sight

CHAPTER XIII. The morning but one after his interview with Vanity he received the following letter: “Dearest Willie: I am grieved—cut to the heart—by what you said to me yesterday, but not angry with you. I know you have reason on your side. What was told you might very well make me seem black in your eyes, and the difficulty even now is that I cannot explain anything. I am bound by the most solemn promise to keep the explanation of the scene which appeared so wicked to you a secret—even from you. The day will come—it is not indeed far off—when you shall know all. In the meantime, will you not accept my solemn assurance that the evil you saw in it is not really there? Meet me this evening at the old place. I can say what I cannot write. When we have talked things over calmly you will see all in a different light Dearest Will, I know how I love you, and I believe your heart is as deep as mine. Ever your loving, \ _ “ s - H." There. Is no need to spin a little incident into a long story. Willie did not go; he spent that evening with Nancy Steele. Three days later he received a second letter, beseeching him to grant another ■Wting. Be made no reply of any sort,

and after that nothing more came from Miss Vanity Hardware. Everybody knew that Willie and Nancy were engaged; the ceremony took place in a month’s time. The wedding was about as cheerful as a well-conducted funeral. The morning was drizzly; the church struck one with damp chill; Willie was depressed. He glanced nervously over his shoulder two or three times, as if fearing an unwelcome hand laid there. The bride alone bore herself spiritedly. | The happy couple took a full measure honeymoon of four weeks. During their absence I heard certain reports bruited in the village about the Hardwares. One story said that on a particular evening a stranger passing by was startled by loud cries coming front the farm house. When he went to the door to listen he heard a man shouting and swearing furiously, and a woman sobbing and crying out as if she were struck. Concluding that it was only an ordinary case of wife-beating, the stranger pursued his way. Another report declared that old Hardware found the climate of the village disagree with his asthma, and that he had bought a house at Burnham. It was soon ascertained to be a fact that they were leaving Hampton, and, indeed, I learned the very day of their intended departure. By an odd coincidence the same day was fixed for Willie’s return.

The day before Willie returned from his wedding trip a strange man walked into my shop. This personage was tall and stout, shabbily dressed, and, indeed, he looked the picture of a bagman. He bought sixpennyworth of black currant lozenges, and putting half a dozen in his mouth at once, seated himself before the counter. “You don't mind my resting awhile,” he said, “while I take this little refreshment?” “Certainly not,” I replied. “As long as you please.” He was an agreeable man, with plenty of well-informed talk. At last—how Ido not now remember—he got to Tumbledown Farm, when, turning to me with a smile, said he: "I have been told that an old oddity named Hardware lives there.” “That is the name,” I replied. “And a young woman, I believe, with him—handsome sort of girl?” ".So people call her.” Let me tell you,” continued the stranger, in an idle kind of tone, “I hear a third party lives 1h that house—a middleaged man, rather good looking, tall, with black hair and dark eyes, very piercing. He has a scar, too—a small one—over the left eye.” \bu describe him as if he was your twin brother,” I answered. The stranger laughed, and soon rose and wished me good morning. That night, while Gracious Me was sitting with a couple of companions over his gin at the Lion, this same stranger stepped in with a friend, and called for two glasses of whisky-and-water. He joined the conversation, and contrived in five minutes’ time to mention Tumbledown Farm. “Any of you know that house?” he inquired.

Gracious, who was pretty far gone, gurgled out a drunken laugh, and encouraged vs the strangers, rambled through the whole narrative of his adventures at the farm. The evening after his return, Willie called to see me. He seemed contented, and spoke of his wife with great admiration. “Your friends up hill have gone away,” I said, after awhile. "What a relief!” cried Willie. “What a wonderful relief!” Now, this little bit of talk had a singu- I lar result. Willie, hearing that the Hardwares had gone away, was seized with a fancy of seeing the old house again. It turned out, however, that the departure had been postponed for.two days; and it thus came about that as Willie strolled up the road near to Tumbledown Farm, a bend of the way brought him face to face with Vanity, who was walking slowly in the opposite direction. At the sight of her Willie was thunderstruck. She looked pale and hopeless. At first he made a movement to raise his hat, but changing his mind, prepared to walk past her without any sign of recognition. “Stop!” cried Vanity. Her voice was calm and authoritative. Willie, looking round with a haughty air, replied: “You must excuse me.” “I shall not excuse you,” nnswered Vanity boldly. “You shall stop. You have to hear something from me.” “Vanity,” he said, stammering, and looking everywhere except at her, “I—l —am sorry—but—you see ” “Listen to me,” she said, putting his commencing apologies aside with a slow gesture expressive of disdain. You asked me to marry you. I refused. You pressed yourself upon me again. Then I told you —I need not have told you, remember—that there was a blot upon my life which could be endured only by one who loved me more than name or fame or the good opinion of the world. Still you declared you would marry me, if I would have you. Still you persisted in asking me to be your wife. Is this true?” • “Of course it is,” said Willie, ki a tone half sulky and half petulant. “You broke your promise!” cried Vanity. “Have the courage to say so. You are brave enough to be perfidious, but not brave enough to admit that you are so. Admit that you had not the courage to marry me. And let me tell you this: had you met me the second time when I asked you, I would have satisfied all your doubts. I shall not give you any explanations now. Your good or bad opinion is nothing to me. Go back to your wife, and be as happy as you can; the happier you are the less you are worthy of happiness. You have blackened my life. Go, and make what you can of your own!” Willie listened to her fiery outburst with a stricken look. He felt that she had justice in some shape on her side. Instead of making any reply, he looked uji at Vanity, with eyes full of tears. “Willie—my dear Willie,” she said brokenly, “I have been wild and wrong, but only because under all my agony and anger love for you is burning still. I didn’t mean all I said. I forgive you. I will pray for your happiness.” Perhaps had events run what seemed their ordinary course before the second hand of Willie’s watch had described another half circle, he might have forgotten for the time there was such a lady as Mrs. Snow. And what prevented ? It was my black currant lozenge friend, who.

stealing np unseen, came between the two. “Miss,” said he, “you have got some one hid in yonder house who is wanted.” “Wanted? For what?” Erect, haughty, brushing her tears off, but no more afraid than if he had been a beggar asking for a penny. “Burglary, miss.” Not the quiver of an eyelash, not a change of color from red to white or from white to red, not the slightest tremor in her voice; only a kind of interest, as if the man, in doing his duty, had made an amusing mistake. “Anything besides burglary, sir?” “Murder.” Miss Hardware became serious in a moment, but not the least sign of agitation appeared. “You are making a great mistake,” she said; “but you had better come in and see for yourself. I am sorry you have been misinformed. This way.” “Thank ye, Miss Barnitt.” “I see,” she said, with the most easy air, “you are altogether mistaken. My name is Hardware.” “It was Barnitt, however,” retorted the detective coolly, “and is so entered in the books of Mrs. Luck, dressmaker, Carlisle, Silk frocks and trimmings, ten pounds ten; discount for cash. No, Miss Barnitt; this won’t do. Ul* is the word, I tell you. All UP!” “Come, come,” Vanity suid haughtily, “you must do what you consider your duty. This way.” And actually, with an air at once composed and indignant, and with rapid steps, she led the way to the old farm.

Meanwhile Willie Snow had been hanging awkwardly in the rear, not decided whether to return to Hampton or stay and *ee the affair out. He walked a few paces downhill, and all at once encountered Gracious Me. Willie felt as if some gigantic toad stood face to face with him. “She ain’t much, sir,” he said, indicating Vanity with his thumb. “Your good lady and me’s been instrumental in finding of her out.” There he stood, with his swollen face and yellow eyes and greasy attire, touching his cap for reward, and looking such a model of shambling infamy that Willie’s face turned crimson with shame. “Look here!” Willie cried furiously, “if you ever dare to speak to me again- -I'll —l’ll—d’ye bear?” Gracious Me made no reply, for, reading the wrath in Willie Snow’s countenance, he hastily concluded that his time was at haatd and disappeared round the corner with remarkable rapidity, looking more like a f®a*3 than ever. Now, for the first time, Willie observed that a stranger was loitering about with an air something like his own—as of a man undecided whether to go or stay. As this man eyed Willie curiously and seemed anxious to speak, Willie, who, above all things, wished to avoid Vanity, turned about to the stranger: “Do yon know anything «f this extraordinary affair?” “My firm has reason to know a good deal,” the man answered. “We have lost property to the value of five thousand three hundred pounds in connection with it.” “Five thousand three hundred!” Willie ochoed, aghast. “What a sum of money, to be sure! Tell me, how is this young—person connected with it? She is not the thief?” “There, sir,” the small man answered, speaking, it seemed, for the detective police force and the plundered firm, “you have us. Up to last week we knew very little. At this present moment we are practically in the dark. If it had.not been tfor a cat’s-eye we should have had no light on the subject at alii” Willie Snow was quite staggered at "this. “I see that cat’s eye,” continued the man, dropping his voice to an awful whisper, “see it in a shop window near College Green, Bristol, set in diamonds.” Light broke upon Willie. The cat’s-eye was a precious stone, but as we are not great people for jewelry near Hampton, he had never heard the -gem 'mentioned before. “Near College Green, Bristol, sir. I was looking in at the window, as you might be, thinking of nothing at all, and I saw a stone which I-seemed to recognize. I looked at it, and as sure as I am standing in my shoes that eye seemed to wink at me. I looked deeper; there was the identical flaw far down. Then, say I, 'Land at last.’ We followed it up, and here we are.” “But surely,” Willie said, wondering what the answer would be, “you do not connect the —the young lady with that?” “That is the mystery, sir. This young lady and her father have been for some time traveling about, or, rather, going from place to place. The father, so far as can be discovered, is a quiet, good old man—fond of his church, they say, when* he can get there; and he has been known to ask if such and such a ministry was improving. (Steady, respectable old gentleman. And his daughter seems fond of him, too.” “Well,” Willie said impatiently, “what next?” “Why, sir, Wherever these two go—at least, wherever they have gone up to this time —a man has been observed to be connected with them, coming to their house at night—never seen by day—but evidently upon most intimate terms. This man -has been at last identified as a burglar and worse than a burglar; and the police believe that they are an the eve of one of the most important discoveries that have been made for years. In fact, England ■will ring with it —at least so they say.” “Look here,” said Willie, seeing that the detective moved forward; “they are going into the farm. I must see this matter out.” And in a strange sort of way, much like a walking funeral, the party moved on toward Tumbledown Farm.

CHAPTER XV. It was now plain that the detectives had taken such precautions that the escape of any one from the farm was an impossibility. Another officer in plain clothes had joined my friend, and two men were to be seen approaching the farm, carelessly as it seemed, but they, too, were there on business. All this time Vanity showed no agitation. She led the way with her swift, fearless step, and the detective looked at her with an admiration he could not conceal. The more sure he was that his man lay- in the house, the more he admired the girl’s daring. More like a walking funeral than ever, the party stopped as they got up to the door. Somehow Willie Snow felt a sickening at heart as he saw how the officers had hemmed the place in, and how serious and determined they seemed, as if the business might be death to one or other of the party. “Andrew,” the stout man said to the companion at his side, “you and I walk in. Now, miss, Igo first; you second, if you please; and this gentleman third.” Easy he and easy she. If the pair had been footmen with Silk legs and powdered hair, and she my lady, Miss Vanity could not have treated them with a more haughty indifference. And so they walked into the parlor, Willie following, like e man in a dream. There sat the old gentleman, with a tumbler of water beside him, and a newspaper spread open on the table, and he groping out the words and pronouncing them to himself, as I have noticed deaf people sometimes do. lie looked up at the party with great curiosity, and he called out: “Who are these people?” Vanity went to his side, and replied, in that high-low voice in,which we speak to the deaf: “No one of consequence, father; it is only the landlord ” The old man scrutinized the party with a penetrating air. “He must be a good landlord, if he comes to see about repairs before he is asked to.” The detective passed out of the room, pad Andrew with him. . Now, for the first time, Vanity seemed

to observe that Willie Snow was in the room, and she dealt him rather an imperious look, which made him very uncomfortable. “Why you come in here, I don’t know,” she said. “As you are here now, you must stay till these men have gone.” Willie stood feeling as he had never felt in his life before; but he could not utter a word, and Vanity returned to her father’s side. The Trampling of feet was heard overhead, as of men going from room to room, and two or three times there was a heavy sound of furniture being dragged over the floor. In a few minutes the heavy downward tread of the detectives was heard on the stairs, and the two men re-entered the rooifi, the chief looking puzzled aud disappointed. “I have made a mistake, miss,” he said to Vanity. “Fact is, I have been misinformed. I hope .you will admit that I have tried to make the job as pleasant as I could.” The detective, after one more moment of troubled irresolution, was about to leave, when his eyes were arrested by something which caused his whole face to light up. The room was papered, and right behind the chair in which the old Hardware sat was what seemed, at the first glance, to ! be a door, so neatly arranged amidst a flowery pattern that it was almost invisible. In an instant the detective guessed that there was a closet in the wall. Ho walked straight up to old Hardware. “Now, old gentleman, ‘found out’ is the word. Get up, if you please.” All the officer meant was that the old man should make way for him to examine the closet. But in this he made a fatal mistake. The closet, after all, existed only in his own imagination, and the clumsy wooden partition, which suggested the idea, was a partition, and nothing more. But he whom the officer addressed misunderstood the words, and in an instant the mystery was revealed indeed. Suddenly the aged, decrepit figure sprung up with the energy of a lion. He tore off his cap, and with that his spectacles and a wig and beard artfully made in one piece. There stood before the astounded group Vanity’s father, indeed, but not the tottering gray-beard that Vanity’s father was supposed to be. A man of forty-five or fifty, tali and handsome, of powerful build, whose face glared with rage and defiance, Such was the transformed figure which leaped out of the disguise. And Willie could seo even in this face, whose every feature was tense with defiance and animosity, a fierce outline of the irresistible beauty which, in the daughter, had taken a shape so entrancing. Father and daughter, they stood face to face, and the other figures for the moment seemed to sink into the background. Hardware concentrated all the rage of his expression upon his daughter, who seemed ready to swoon with terror. In her pallor he read the proof of his own furious conjecture, that his own daughter had betrayed hi™ Drawing a revolver from his breast, he pointed it at Vanity, and, with a terrible cry, discharged it into her side. The poor young woman stood erect one moment, gazing at him with a fixity almost as dreadful as his own; and he, as if he would answer the look, called out: “You have not deceived me with all your pretense! You sold me, you sold me! Take your reward!” And as she sunk down upon the ground, he leaped across her body, and dashed to the door which led upstairs.

CHAPTER XVI. What followed was dreadful Indeed. Hardware flung off the detectives with a fury which caused these two strong men to fall back like weakly boys. A narrow twisted flight of stairs led to the rooms above, and these stairs were shut off from the room by a wooden door. The fugitive opened this door, sprang through, and shut it upon himself with a crash; and they heard a bolt drawn. The chief ran outside, and shouted to the watchers that they must look after this windows, and then both set themselves to break open the staircase door. The big man hurled himself at it, and the old wood gave way with a crash, and through the splintered panels the way upstairs lay open. Above stood Hardware, holding in one hand a lighted candjp and a revolver, and in the other a hgge drinking glass. ‘‘Come down here!” the detective shouted. “If you were fifty men you can’t escape. Drop the pistol, and don’t put a rape round your neck for the sake of another quarter-hour by yourself in that room.” Hardware answered with a roar of laughter. “Come down!” he cried. “No, thank you; I am master here. Come up, you. The way is narrow, and you are broad enough. Still, if I take care, I may miss you; I may not make your wife a widow; come along and try.” The detective was meditating how he could break his way through, or whether he could coax his man down, when Hardware, having drained his tumbler, hurled it savagely at the offioer. Quick as the detective was, he saved himself only by a hair’s breadth as it shivered upon the floor. 'Tour health for forty years!” roared Hardware, with his diabolical laugh, “and after that your lifetime! Walk upstairs and have a chat with the old man!” In the moment while the officer drew back Hardware must have carried out his awful scheme, for when the detective looked up the stairs again all was raging flame. Hardware had deluged the place with paraffin, or some other inflammable liquid of the sort, and had set the whole on fire. At the top he stood as before, looking now like some gigantic fiend. “Come up to the madman’s room!” he yelled again. “Hot flame, cold lead! all ready! Up to the madman’s room!’* Another roar of laughter came from above, and then they heard another loud crash, the meaning of which was evident the next instant. Hardware must have thrown a great glass vessel down the stairs, filled with paraffin, for immediately after the crash a stream of liquid flame ran out into the room. Another crash followed, and another, and now the room began to swim in fire. Until this moment, no one thought of wounded Vanity; and there she lay on the ground. But now the flame, running across the floor, had just set fire to her dress, when the detective caught her up in his arms and dragged her out of the honor

And M sooner were thy In tfc* JTtTH garden, than Hardware .long open the window and glared out Bpoi the group with a face from which every expreonion except triumph, defiance and hatred had vanished. He held his revolver in his hand. “Fire chambers!” he shouted out, “and only one wanted within door. Which shall I have first?” He glared round wildly, and saw Gracious Me, and his face lit up with a diabolical recognition. “Ah, my friend! my little friend Peeping Tom! Why not begin «ith Peeping Tom? Let the ugliest in the company be helped first.” He pointed his revolver at wretched Gracious Me, who was too frightened to ran away, and fell on his knees pleading for life with fearful energy. Crack went the pistol, and down, without a sound, dropped little Gracious Me; and then, from the angle of the house, they heard a yell of rage from Hardware, for, in that instant, his other victims had got out of reach; and the smoke began to roll out in volumes, and in less time than it takes to pen these lines the whole of old Tumbledown Farm was in flames. Hardware’s plans were all laid long before. It was plain that the man was resolved never to be taken alive. Within the most profound silence prevailed. None was able to tell whether or not Hardware had fire’d another shot. He may have done so, but the last that was ever seen or known of him was when he discharged his revolver at Gracious Me. The detectives made some pretense of trying to enter the burning house, but they soon abandoned the attempt. Willie Snow dashed down the hill to Hampton for assistance, but what was assistance good for? Why, in ten minutes somebody whispered with ashen lips that the fire was going out! (To be continued.)