Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 264, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 November 1913 — Page 3

The League of Lost Causes

By H. M. EGBERT

The Moroccan Treaty

§AUL LANE had spent two weeks in Paris, in daily communication with Jean Rosny, secretary to the League Of Lost Causes. But though he had learned many things he had not yet learned the identity of the mysterious woman kt whose bidding he had gone to Europe to

sacrifice his millions for an impracticable ideaL ; i. Of the gigantic scope of the new secret movement he had, however, formed a tolerably clear idea. Working in different countries and under various guises, it aimed always at the various end: the revival of the monarchical idea in Europe, and, in particular, the restoration of the ancient lines of kings. In England its object was to discredit the monarchy by stirring up' social disquietude, with the ultimate end of replacing the Hanoverian dynasty by a representative of the Stuarts. In France, ignoring the Bonapartes, it aimed to revive the glories of the Orleans family. In Sweden it supported the heirs of the Vasa dynasty against the plebeian descendants of Napoleon’s marshal, Bernadotte, of peasant birth, who occupied the throne. It was for Manoel in Portugal, for the Sobieski dynasty in Poland, for the heirs to the old Tuscan and Sicilian kingdoms in Italy. And everywhere it was supported by men of the "highest rank and position, who had turned against democracy and looked back with loving reverence upon the traditions of the past. At the head of this formidable confederacy was believed to be Alfonso of Spain, that irresponsible, boyish ruler whose adventurous, chafing spirit typified the revolt of the old against the new. Himself a- Bourbon and a close friend of the deposed Manoel of Portugal, he led the lesser potentates who were allied with him. Against this league of the "Reds,” as they were contemptuously termed by their opponents, the kings and statesmen of the more powerful countries had allied themselves in a union which, supposed to have its headquarters in Paris, was called the "Black” The struggle was none the less profound because knowledge of it was confined almost entirely to the chancelleries of Europe. On the fifteenth morning after his arrival in Paris Jean Rosny called upon Paul Lane at his hotel. After an informal chat the Frenchman suddenly became very serious. "You were saying to me only yesterday, my friend, that you feared we cared more for your millions than for yourself," he said. “You have begged that you be permitted to display your worth in our movement, to make yourself Invaluable to our cause. The league is in urgent need of one who shall go on a delicate mission. You speak Spanish as well as you do French, I believe?" “Yes,” answered Paul. "I spent two years in Buenos Aires as representative of my father’s firm." "Excellent, my dear Paul. Then let me describe the situation to you. You are aware that events of moment are Impending in Morocco? You have read of them in the newspapers, of course, and have made no sense out of them, as with us all. England, France, Spain, and Germany seem to be striving each to obtain possession of'that unhappy country. The real situation is this: "England and France are united in their opposition to Germany. Each aide i 4. desperately endeavoring to checkmate the other there. Meanwhile Spain—our poor Spain, who alone of all'nations is entitled to the ’-eversion of the Moorish empire—is powerless in the face of her mighty antagonists. Her claims are put forward by Alfonso for a purpose as yet unsuspected: to set Europe by the ears. In others words, if Spain can induce the Sultan to assign to her the protectorate of the country, England and Franco will be at the throat of Germany, whose puppet they believe Spain to be. And so it la necessary to induce the Sultan to sign a protectorate over his country to Spain. You understand, Paul?" “A difficult problem,” answered Paul thoughtfully. “Even the Moorish Sultan is not going to barter away his empire.” “On the contrary,” answered Rosny, “the Sultan dreads and fears France, whose envoys are even now approaching Fes, the capital, with a treaty in their hands. The Sultan and the Moors still hold a more exaggerated idea of the power of Spain than she is entitled, I fear, to expect. If you can forestall the Frenchmen, you will accomplish all that the league asks of you. Of course Spain will gain nothing by it, but at least there will be the chance of a European war and the consequent weakening of the power of England and Germany, our strongest enemies, not to speak of the possibility of a restoration of the Orleans hbuse in France.” Paul Lane was astounded at the scheme. Kingdoms and empires seemed but as checker pieces to the

Being the Romantic Adventures of Paul Lane, American Millionaire

(Copyright. 1913, by W. G. Chapman.)

daring minds behind the conspiracy. He faltered as he asked: * “One moment, Rosny. Is —does Mademoiselle know of my projected mission?” “It is at her own suggestion,” Rosny answered. “And by your successful accomplishment of it, my friend, you will undoubtedly win favor with her and hasten the day when her identity will be revealed to you and you will acquire high rank in our councils.” Jean Rosny had shrewdly guessed Paul Lane’s secret.. The ’American blushed like a schoolboy; then, rising, he answered: “I shall be ready to start when you instruct me.” , “Good,” answered the other. “Now, Paul, you will have cause to exercise diplomacy, for the Frenchmen are utilizing the services of a very nbtorious character —none less than Mademoiselle Guepin.” “Of the Moulin Rouge?” cried Paul in surprise. , "Precisely. It will not be the first time that France will have made use of her women for the accomplishment of her purposes. The Sultaf. is notoriously susceptible to the charms of the other sex, and it is said that Mademoiselle Guepin has already reached Fez, Installed herself in the household of the Shereefa, the Sultan’s principal wife, and begun to acquire an unbounded influence over her and him. So you see, Paul, that you have a hard problem to solve. Waste, no timer then, but take the next steamship from Marseilles to Tangiers, and then—good luck to you!” Two days later Paul Lane t sailed for Morocco. In his pocket he carried bills and gold coin to the value of $20,000. It was a case in which, as it seemed to him, the possession of money would play a considerable part. He longed to acquit himself well of his mission. All the way across the Mediterranean he dreamed of the beautiful unknown Austrian whom he had met only to lose so swiftly upon the shores of Long Island. That was two months ago. Then he had been nothing but a glorified clerk in the huge industrial mill of New York—now he was playing a man’s part in the world, as he had always longed to do. At Twigiers he kpent several days, famillanzing himself with the conditions of the country. Then, purchasing camels and the necessary outfit, he joined a caravan which was proceeding into the interior under the protection of a bodyguard of French troops. He was amazed to find that the presence of the Guepin woman was already known to the men, and even the purpose of her mission. Her life had been an adventurous one. Born on the road, into a company of strolling players, she had acquired a reputation second to none among the adventuresses of olden times. Ministers of state, publicists, leaders of France had fallen victims to her before it occurred to-some high dignitary of France to utilize her for the conquest of the Moorish Sultan. She Lad arrived in Tangiers a month or two before, and had gone into the interior with a circus company, then parading throughout Morocco with its trained lions and performing elephants, to the intense delight of the natives. After a week In the capital the circus manager bad withdrawn toward the coast, loaded with honors — but Guepin had remained, the protegee of the Sultan’B principal lady in her magnificent house in Fez. So much Lane learned; further details came to him unexpectedly on the tenth morning, when there came straggling along the road the remnants of the very circus which had taken Guepin to Fez. “Never again do I enter Africa, monsieur,” said the proprietor to Paul as they sat that night over the campfire. “Had I not gone to Fez I should now be in possession of my animals —the finest lot that ever left France, and all imported by me from Monsieur Hagenbeck’s menagerie at Hamburg and of my own training. Now —see what is left! Assuredly France must recompense me for my losses.” "But his majesty’s presents—” interrupted Paul. “Gone, all gone, monsieur,” cried the owner, wringing his hands. “Stolen by the accursed Moors. And the star of my collection, the beautiful and unrivalled Mademoiselle Guepin —even she is lost to me. Ah, monsieur, I worshipped that woman with < blind devotion. And she left me for what? For a Moor, monsieur, a negro—for what else are these Arabs but negroes masquerading as a branch of the white race? For a black man and a handful of jewels! It is a treasure house, that palace in Fez, such as might turn the head of any woman. The marvels, monsieur! There are moving picture displays, the crowns of gold, rubips and sapphires and pearls as large as eggs; mechanical toys and guns of gold and silver —it is the wonder of the world' O, for an hour inside and a stout wagon in which to pack my choice of

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

plunder, drawn by Mahmud, my old elephant” , “But why the elephant?” asked PauL c “Because, Monsieur, Mahmud would pull a load equivalent to that'of a dozen horses,” ' answered the circus man. " * i “And this Mahmud of yourst” “Alas, he too is in Fez. He would not leave Mademoiselle Guepin, for she had acquired a wonderful power over him. It was a strange contrast, that frail, delicate, woman, and the great beast. A rogue elephant he was, monsieur, a furious monster of whom all stood in dread. Even j could hardly manage him. But Mademoiselle Guepin could make him heed her lightest word, and by reason of her power over him she has acquired the reputation of a prophetess among the superstitious Moors. They say,” he continued, “that she is a secret agent of France. Of that I know nothing, except that all women love to intrigue. At any rate, if France does not make use of that admirable woman she will not bit the France I know and love, for with her aid Morocco is already hers.” Paul was greatly impressed by the circus owner’s naive confidences. Here was a problem requiring all the strength of his courage and the resources of his brain. A treacherous ruler, a beautiful, unscrupulous woman, and a rogue elephant. * it was in the guise of a concession

hunter that he went to the Sultan’s palace Immediately ‘ after his arrival, leaving his equipment in the French camp outside the walls. French troops were in possession of the citadel, the city was French—but Morocco was not yet French, and technically France was merely his majesty’s ally against the rebellious tribes. Paul found everything in confusion at the palace. The Sultan, morose and despondent, had shut himself up in his palace with his favorite wife, the Shereefa. He had executed two of his ministers as traitors and had dismissed the remainder, had cut off all relations with the French garrison, and alternately planned war upon them and sent presents to Commander Calllard, in token of fealty. Under plea of indisposition the Sultan refused to see them. France was growing impatient; the treaty must be signed acknowledging the French protectorate. If Paul could present his credentials and obtain his majesty's signature the French would be checkmated and the struggle would be transferred to the chancellories of Madrid and Paris, while England and Germany would instantaneously mobilize their war-fleets. ‘Tell him,” said Paul to his interpreter, a shrewd old Moor whom he had engaged at a lavish wage and pledged to silence, “tell him that I wish to speak with him upon a matter concerning the Khallfate.” Much mystified, Paul entered the palace courtyard, passed through a number of rooms, richly adorned with arabesques and hung with carpets of brilliant hues, and emerged into a small open space with high

Wfdls of solid masonry, through a bronze door which the minister opened and Immediately closed behind him. Paul found himself alone, completely shut oft from access to the other portions of the palace—no, not alone, for there, 4n the center of the court, confronting him with raised trunk and gleaming tusks, was a huge bull elephant. As Paul stared at this apparition the monster trumpeted shrilly and rushed toward him, swinging its trunk like an enormous flail. There existed no doubt whatever as to its intentions, Paul dodged agilely and ran past the beast, which, too bulky to turn swiftly, butted its massive forehead against the masonry immediately behind the place which Paul had occupied. \ . “The passage to the halls of paradise is always a difficult one, monsieur,” exclaimed a charming female voice. “Walk through! Mahmud will not longer desire to hurt you. In front of you is a door in the masonry." Stumbling forward, humiliated and chagrined, Paul found the entrance, so cunningly set in the wall that it had escaped his notice. He entered an apartment decorated sumptuously in the French style, to find himself confronting a woman of about thirty years, attractive of face, but somewhat bold of aspect, and di;edsed in the latest Parisian fashion. “So you are the gentleman who

wishes to see the Sultan,” said the young woman. “You may state your wants to me. What nation do you represent?" “I am the secretary of a syndicate 4n Brussels, madam,” said Paul glibly. “We desire a land concession for the discovery of rubber, which is believed to grow profusely near Cape Juba. If his majesty will see me—” She looked at him and laughed impudently. “There Is no rbbber near Cape Juba,” sne answered. “Rubber is associated with moist climates and tropical verdure, my dear Paul Lane.” Paul started up in confusion. “No, but you must assuredly see his majesty after having gone through such perils,” said the young woman. “As a representative of the Interests of —Spain, is it not? Pardon me *f I am forgetful, for we have so many applicants, seeking to wring something from poor Morocco —as a representative of Spain you must not be allowed to return without having accomplished something. Besides,” she added, “Mahmud is very angry about something this morning, and, hard as the journey was, the return from the palace will perhaps prove still more arduous,” She ushered him into a large anteroom. “If you will wait here I will summon his majesty and your interpreter,” she said and the door clicked behind her. Paul tried it It was locked. At that moment, in the clutches of •his enemy, who had evidently obtained secret information of his arrival, trapped in the gin into which be had so foolishly stepped. Paul would have

given much to have the freedom of the French camp again. After waiting for half an hour in dire perplexity he began to examine his surroundings. There was a. large hall adjoining the room in which he sat, and Paul strolled into it. It was a small, narrow chamber without outlet, and evidently formed the inmost portion of the palace, for it was heaped with an astonishing display of treasures. A sound at the outside door distracted him from his speculations and he passed back hastily into the anteroom. just in time to give the impression of having been waiting there to a short, fat, black-bearded man of middle age, attired in an immaculate white robe and turban, who' strode fiercely in, accompanied by the cringing Interpreter whom Paul had left at the palace gates. Behind them appeared the Frenchwoman. She smiled at Paul no longer but ranged herself at the side of the Sultan and began spqaking in passionate tones. He listened and nodded, then spoke curtly to the interpreter. “What do you want?” asked the latter briskly of Paul. “Tell him,” said Paul slowly, “that I will speak with him in the presence of his council.” The. woman interpreted, and the Sultan’s brovf darkened. He scowled savagely at Paul. “His majesty says that he will speak with you in the presence of his

council, as you have requested, tomorrow morning,” said the interpreter. “Will you have the goodness to come this way?” At the door half a dozen soldiers sprang from the ground, where they had been squatting in the Moorish fashion. Without violence, but. imperatively, they compelled Paul to accompany them through numerous corridors and rooms, each of which was concealed by a heavy curtain, until they arrived at a small cell, plainly furnished in the European fashion. Paul spent the rest of the day there and the night that came after, not tasting the food which was brought to him for fear of poison. When the first shafts of the rising sun struck through his window his captors unlocked the door and ushered him into a closed carriage, drawn by two Arab stallions, which waited outside in the courtyard. One of the men entered with him; the blinds were drawn across the carriage windows,' and they drove for an interminable period. When at last the carriage halted and Paul descended he was almost blinded by the blaze of fierce, tropical sunlight which beat upon him, so that for some time he could hardly grasp his relationship to the outside world. He was in the palace no longer but in the great market-place of the city of Fez. He stood before a sort of raised dais, on which squatted the Moorish Sultan, close beside him. Mademoiselle Guepin, resting upon a pile of cushions, while ranged around him were his councillors and bodyguard. Extending thence in the form of a large circle, completely

surrounding the market 71*23, were! thousands of Mdors, and they xizvc\ all uttering exultant cries and point-1 ing at the prisoner. And ip the cen-f ter of the court, a writhing blur of bl&ck against the white pavement flags, was the rogue elephant, struggling in the chains which 50 men held in their iron sockets fixed taj the' ground, and trumpeting earth-i shaking blasts. Muley Abdul stood up and a sudden! hush fell upon the assemblage, so< that his thin tones were clearly &udi-> ble on all sides of the market place.; He spoke, and cackles and shouts of| derision punctuated his sentences.! When he had concluded his speech! the interpreter rose and addressed* Paul Lane. “His majesty says,” he began, "that; you are a Spaniard who has comet here to steal away this country.. •Therefore, you shall test your strength against France in the market place. If you conquer, them Morocco will place herself under the protection of your country, but if yooi lose you will be torn to pieces by the wild elephant. Let Allah decide!” Paul did not wholly understand, but he was not long in doubt when, with a bound that would have done credit to any acrobat. Mademoiselle Guepin flung aside her cloak and sprang into the market place, displaying herself, a commanding figure in tights and spangles, while a long Spanish cloak, such as matadors wear, dropped from her shoulders and fluttered in tho wind at every motion. As she advanced, the Moors, at her shouted command, released the chains which held the elephant, and the great beast leaped to its feet and stood unsteadily in the center of the open space, trumpeting shrilly, while hanging from its neck and legs the stout chains clanked at every movement. With its angry little eyes peering out on either side of its enormous trunk, its curved tusks, sharp an scimitars, menacingly thrust forward, it was a spectacle to appall the stoutest heart. Yet, when Mademoiselle Guepin approached it dropped its trunk, quivered, and sank on its knees before her. Thus, with head humbly lowered, it received her caresses. Mademoiselle Guepin arose and leaped aside.' She whispered in the elephant’s ear and motioned to it to, rise. Then, standing some distance away, with .folded arms she quietly surveyed Paul as he stood waiting the jouset of the great lumbering beast. The elephant stood watching him. Another word from the woman and it broke into a shrill scream of fury, raised its trunk, and bore down upon the American. He stood, appalled by the terror of the spectacle, until it was within five yards of him; then he Sprang to one side and let tho monster careen past him. A shout of delight went up from the throat* of the encircling Multitude. This wait the finest man-baiting sport that they had seen. The qlephant turned and charged down upon Paul again. Again ho sprang to one side, but this time tho beast was warier. It turned also, missed him, but the sweep of ita trunk was so near that Paul felt a thrill of terror go through him. The stoutest nerves could not endure that long. It was a question of momenta only. He looked up; in front of bins the guards had ranged themselves, with drawn swords, before their sovereign; a hostile wall of Moors ringed him; in the center of the marketplace Mademoiselle Guepin stood watching, smiling, anfleipating her triumph. Paul turned and ran blindly, panting, his lingers clenched at his sides. They closed on something in his hip pocket and, as be ran, he drew it forth. He stared at it without comprehension. The monster was dose behind. He turned; the qlephant turned too, and there ensued again that hideous flight and that pursuit. But Paul was staring at the thing ift his hand now, and beginning to remember how it had come there. He had absent-mindedly pocketed it while in the apartments of the Sultan. It was a clockwork mouse. Again the swish of that flail at a trunk went through the air. Paul turned. This time the elephant waa prepared for his manoeuvre, but it did not know which way he would turn. It stopped still, swinging ita trunk and watching him with its little evil eyes. Paul dodged backward, gained twenty yards—and set down the mouse upon the ground. It whirred and rushed straight toward the monster. The trunk went down. The beast stood stilL A shrill scream broke from it—and suddenly it turned tall and bolted away, terror-stricken, across the market-place. Its bulk between Paul and Mademoiselle Guepin, she had not seen the cause of it* confusion. But as it rushed toward her she looked and saw; and with piercing shrieks, the Honeycomb of Paradise and Footstool of Gabriel cast her cloak over her head and ran also-ran through the clusters of laughing, howling Moors out at the market place and up the long street toward the palace of tbb Sultan, crying for aid. her skirts drawn taut. But far in front of her, roaring with fear and dismay, lumbered the bulky form of Mahmud, the rogue elephant, seeking the safety of its cemented, walled, mouse-props enclosure. Paul Lane drew from his pocket the draft of the treaty of protectorate and went up to the place where the Suitan sat “Allah has decided,” he said to the interpreter, and held out the document. And in big, painted Arable letters the Shadow of Allah affixed his signature.