Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 63, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 March 1912 — The Pool of Flame [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Pool of Flame

By LOVIS JOSEPH VANCE

Illustration* by Ellsworth Youg

Copyright. 1809, by LouU Joseph Vance CHAPTER XXXI. Back In his stateroom on the Poonah, O’Rourke threw himself into the lower berth and lay there, a forearm flung across his eyes, thinking excitedly, disturbed by formless forebodings. Beside him Danny was packing industriously, with now and again a pause during which he would stand reflective, his gaze fixed upon his employer’s face, a little puzzled and perplexed. The Poonah was pausing overnight to discharge and take aboard cargo; for this reason O’Rourke in his haste to get ashore had dot delayed to take his luggage with him. . . . On deck, fore and aft donkey engines were puffing and chugging and chain tackles rattling as they lifted .freight to and from the hold and tire lighters alongside. Abruptly, without moving, O’Rourke spoke. “I’ll want evening clothes, Danny,” said he. “’Tls dining I am tonight with Mr. Straker and his niece, Miss Pynsent, who came with us from Diamond Harbor. ’Twill save a bit of bother to dress before I go ashore.” “Aw-w,” said Danny, assimilating. . . . “And the missus?” he said suddenly, some minutes later. “M’anln’ Madam O’Rourke, sor. Did ye get no word from her?” “For what else would I be driving to every hotel In the town after leaving Mr. Sypher, Danny, but to inquire for her? She’s not here; but she’ll come, be sure. She’s still got several days—three or sou which to keep our tryst. ’Tls discontented lam not to find her waiting for me, but I’m satisfied entirely she’ll keep faith.” “And,” insisted Danny eagerly—“beggin’ yer honor’s pardon—blit what will ye have to tell her, sor?” O’Rourke sat up. “Have to tell her? What d’ye mean?” “I mean, sor, I’m dyin’ wld the wish to know’ how ut’s all turned out. Plase, yer honor, won’t ye be tellin’ me? Is ut —is ut all right?” “Bless your heart, Danny!” laughed O’Rourke, “ ’Tls so dazed I’ve been that I never thought to tell ye—thinking all the time that ye knew. ’Tia all right, indeed, me boy. The Pool of Flame’s in Mr. Sypher’s keeping and the money’s in mine—in the bank, Danny, payable to me order. Think of it—-one hundred thousand pounds of real money, and all me own. ’Tls ridiculous, ’tis absurd. ’Tts meself hardly credits the truth of it all; yet I was there —saw the man, gave him the jewel, went to the bank with him and for the space of five minutes sat at a table, with all that money before tountingjlt jgver; bill by bill, .a. square hundred of them, each for a thousand pounds, guaranteed by the Bank of England! . . . Think of that —all that belonging to me—to me, O’Rourke! . . .” “Thank God!" breathed Danny devotedly. “But did ye I’arn nothin’ about the stone T* “Little enough, Danny—only a part of the meaning of the whole dlviUsh business; the rest I’m to know tonight. Mr. Sypher *ll be tellin* me after we’ve dined; he wants to hear me own end of the story, too.” Sypher had very explicitly named his dinner hour, after the formal English fashion, nowhere and by nobody more rigidly observed than by the Englishman in the Orient; “eight for eight-thirty,” he had said. And as O’Rourke, a very dignified and imposing O’Rourke in his evening dress, waited for a sampan on the lower grating of the Poonah’s passenger gangplank he had a round three-quar-ters for an hour for leeway—ample l«deure for an interested Inspection of that part of Rangoon lying between the floating jetty and Sypher’s residence in a suburb near Dalhouste Park. Danny remained aboard ship only temporarily, being instructed to follow with O'Rourke’s belongings to suitable accommodations already engaged at a hotel on the. Strand, overlooking the roadstead; from whose window* O'Rourke was promising himself the pleasure of watching the arrival of the steamship bearing his wife to his arms. “Bless her dear faoe!” said he softly. “ ’Tls meself will be desolated if she’s not aboard that Messageries boat due tomorrow —now that I can go back to her, a man of property, no longer a pauper ne’er-do-well! Think of that, ye lucky dog!” . A sampan slid noiselessly in beside the grating. O’Rourke leLhlmaelf cautiously into it and incontinently collapsed upon the rear seat as the boat slid away toward the shore lights, yielding to the vigorous sweeps of thio ■ingle long oar wielded by the Bun.man in the bows. Ashore, a tikkagharry caught him up and boro him down the silent road anf

the river’s edge, then whipped into Mogul street, where the fluent tide of life ran broad and deep beneath a glare of light All too quickly the tikka whisked out of the main channel of the city’s life, out beyond the Mohammedan mosque and the Chetti’a hall and the Christian chapel, and into the soft dense night of the countryside—a world of darkness sparsely studded with dim, glowing windows; and all too eoon, again, it swung off from the highway into a private drive, crunched over grayel and stopped before the illuminated veranda of a native bungalow. O’Rourke got down, discharged the driver and ascended the steps, a little puzzled to find no one waiting to welcome him, whether Sypher, Miss Pynsent, or at worst a servant. Surely he was expected. . . . But nobody appeared. The grating tires of the departing tikkagharry had made noise enough to apprise the household of the arrival of a guest, one would think. Nevertheless O'Rourke remained ungreeted. He stroked his cbm, perplexed, wondering if by, mischance the native driver had brought him to the wrong bungalow. But it was now too late to call him back and make sure. And this verandah, still and empty as it was, softly lighted by lanterns dependent from its roof, was to him a small oasis in a world of darkness. Without advice he was lost, could find his way no other where. He would have simply to wait until the household came to life, or until by his own efforts he succeeded in quickening it. He tried to do this latter to the best of his ability by tapping a summons on the door-jamb. Through the wire insect-screens a broad hallway and a staircase rising to the upper floor were visible. Limp, cool-looking rugs conceived in pleasing colorschemes protected the hardwood flooring. To the right a door stood ajar and permitted a broad shaft of light to escape from the room beyond. On the other hand a similar door, likewise open, showed a dimmer glow. Two other doors Were closed; O’Rourke assumed that they led to the kitchen offices. Having waited a few moments without event, the Irishman knocked a second time, and would have knocked a third when he thought better of it and glanced at his watch. It was only a matter of ten minutes after eight; strictly interpreting the intent of Sypher’s invitation, he was a trifle

early. Presumably the servants were all out of earshot preoccupied with preparations for the meal; while Sypher and his niece were most probably still dressing. With an impatient air O’Rourke’ turned back to the veranda. A hammock in one corner was swinging idly in the breeze. A number of wicker armchairs stood about invitingly furnished with cushions. O’Rourke selected one and disposed himself to wait After five minutes he frowned thoughtfully and lit a cigarette. “Faith, ’tls a fine surprise he’s giren me,” he said, irresolute. “But'it can’t be premeditated insult Why should it he? And they can’t all be out 'Tls sorry lam I let that driver go; more than likely thia will be the wrong house entirely. That must be the trouble. I'll just go, quietly fold up me tent and decamp before the inhabitants, If any there be, discover me and run me off the premises." But at the head of the steps, with foot poised to descend, something restrained him; it would be difficult to say what, unless it were the unbroken, steadfast, uncanny quiet: “I’ll have A look,” Jie determined suddenly; “perhaps t— r He turned to the right and stopped before a long, open window, looking into what seemed to be a music room and library combined. Brilliantly illuminated by hanging lamps of unusual brilliancy, the Interior was clearly revealed. And with an abrupt exclamation the adventurer entered, feeling for the revolver, to carry which had of late become habitual with him. The room was simply furnished, if tastefully. There was a grand piano near the veranda windows with a music rack and cabinet near by. Dispersed about the floor were a few comfortable chairs, a rug of rare Oriental texture, two consoles adorned with valuable porcelains. In the middle of the room stood a draped center-table littered with books and magazines; toward the back a long, flat-topped desk. And against the rear wall, ordinarily hidden by . a folding screen of Japanese manufacture, now swept aside, was a small-steel safe. Upon this O’Rourke’s attention was centered.

very strong; it was open, disclosing a variety of pigeonholes more or less occupied by docketed documents, and a smaller interior strong-box. Between the desk and the safe a man lay prone and quite motionless. He Was dressed for a ceremonious dinner, and apparently had been struck down in the act of stepping from his desk to the safe. For beyond all doubt he had been murdered. The haft of a knife protruded from his back, burled to its hilt just beneath his left shoul-der-blade. O’Rourke moved over to the body and lifted it by the shoulders, turning the face to the light Then, with a low oath, he dropped it A small sound, so slight as to bo all but' indistinguishable, penetrated O’Rourke’s stupefaction. Ho stood erect, booking about, telling himself that the noise resembled as much as anything the hushed cry of a child sobbing in sleep, soft and infinitely pathetic. Unable to assign its source elsewhere, he attributed *it to the stricken man at his feet; and in a desperate - hope that the pulse of life might still linger in Sypher’s body, he knelt, withdrew the knife, turned the corpse upon its back, and laid his ear to its breast, above the heart. Beyond dispute, Sypher was dead. “Poor diwle!” muttered the Irishman. ... “The Pool of name! . (To be continued

Beyond All Doubt, He Had Been Murdered.